Shall make their harbour in our town, till we Alcib. Both. 'Tis most nobly spoken. Alcib. Descend, and keep your words. 60 [The Senators descend, and open the gates. Enter Soldier. Sold. My noble general, Timon is dead; Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea; And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which Alcib. [Reads the epitaph] "Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft: 70 Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked caitiffs left! Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate: Pass by and curse thy fill, but pass and stay not here thy gait." These well express in thee thy latter spirits: Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs, Scorn'dst our brain's flow and those our droplets which From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye Is noble Timon: of whose memory Hereafter more. Bring me into your city, 80 Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each [Exeunt. SCENE: Rome: the neighbourhood of Sardis: the neighbourhood of Philippi. ACT I. SCENE I. Rome. A street. Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners. Flav. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home: Is this a holiday? what! know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a labouring day without the sign Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? Mar. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? You, sir, what trade are you? Sec. Com. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Mar. But what trade art thou? answer me directly. 11 Sec. Com. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? Sec. Com. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow! Sec. Com. Why, sir, cobble you. Flat. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? 21 Sec. Com. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? 30 Sec. Com. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? 41 You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! And do you now put on your best attire? 50 50 142 knees, Run to your houses, fall upon your Flav. Go, go, good conntrymen, and, for this fault, Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears 60 [Exeunt all the Commoners. If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. You know it is the feast of Lupercal. Flav. It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about, So do you too, where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's wing Who else would soar above the view of men SCENE II. A public place. ΤΟ [Exeunt. 80 Flourish. Enter CÆSAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPUR NIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer. Ces. Calpurnia! Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks. Cæs. Cal. Here, my lord. Cas. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course. Ant. Cæsar, my lord? Antonius! Cæs. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, Shake off their sterile curse. Ant. Calpurnia! I shall remember: Ces. Ha! who calls? 10 [Flourish. Casca. Bid every noise be still: peace yet again! Cas. Cas. He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass. 20 [Sennet. Exeunt all except Brutus and Cassius. Cas. Will you go see the order of the course? Cas. I pray you, do. Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; I'll leave you. Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: Bru. Cassius, Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look, Merely upon myself. Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, 30 40 Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviours; But let not therefore my good friends be grieved— Among which number, Cassius, be you one Nor construe any further my neglect, Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men. Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? And it is very much lamented, Brutus, 50 |