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Casca. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 Pleb. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

Casca. What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow?

2 Pleb. Why, sir, cobble you.

Casca. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

2 Pleb. Truly, sir, all that I live by is the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor woman's matters; but withal 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 handy work.

Casca. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

2 Pleb. 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. Casca. Wherefore rejoice?--what conquests brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless
things!

O, you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome!
Knew you not Pompey? many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,
To tow'rs and windows, yea, to chimney tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat,
The live long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome :
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath his banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shore?

And do you now put on your best attire,

And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Begone-

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague,
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Dec. B. Go, go, good countrymen.

[Exeunt PLEBeians. Go you down that way towards the capitol, This will I; disrobe the images,

way If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.

These growing feathers, pluck'd from Cæsar's wing, Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men,

And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

[Exeunt severally.

Enter CESAR, ANTONY for the Course, CALPHURNIA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CASSIUS, CASCA, a SooTHSAYER, TREBONIUS, &c.

Cæs. Calphurnia

Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.

Cæs. Calphurnia

Calp. Here, my lord.

Cas. Stand you directly in Antonius'

When he doth run his course

Ant. Cæsar, my lord.

way,

Antonius

Caes. Forget not in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calphurnia; for our elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their sterile curse.

Ant. I shall remember.

When Cæsar says "Do this," it is perform'd.
Cæs. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæsar!

Cæs. Ha! who calls?

Casca. Bid every noise be still; peace yet again.

Cæs. Who is it in the press, that calls on me? I hear a tongue shriller than all the music, Cry, "Cæsar!" Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cæs. What man is that?

Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of
March.

Cas. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Cas. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon
Cæsar.

Cæs. What say'st thou to me now, speak once

again.

Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cæs. He is a dreamer, let us leave him; pass.
[Exeunt CESAR and TRAIN.
Cas. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.

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;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love, as I was wont to have:
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand,
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,

Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself;

Which gives some foil, perhaps, to my behaviour:
But let not therefore my good friends be grieved,
Among which number, Cassius, be you one;
Nor construe any farther 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?
Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,
But by reflection from some other thing.
Cas. "Tis just,

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirror as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæsar) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
That you would have me seek into myself,
For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear;
And since you know you cannot see yourself,
So well as by reflection; I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself,

That of yourself, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protestor; if you know
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish and Shouts.

Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Chuse Cæsar for their king.

Cas. Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so. Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well. But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honour in one eye, and death i' th' other, And I will look on both indifferently: For let the gods so speed me, as I love The name of honour, more than I fear death. Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the subject of my story: I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but for my single self, I had as lief not be, as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself, I was born free as Cæsar, so were you; We both have fed as well; and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he. For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores, Cæsar says to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now, Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point??--Upon Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow: so indeed he did: The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it, With lusty sinews, throwing it aside, And stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink." I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

the word,

Did from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder, The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber, Did I the tired Cæsar: and this man

now become a god; and Cassius is

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