Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a rabble of Citizens. FLAV. Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you home; Being mechanical, you ought not walk, Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art thou? 1 CIT. Why, sir, a carpenter. MAR. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? You, sir; what trade are you? 2 CIT. 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. 2 CIT. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. FLAV. a What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? 2 CIT. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you. a The modern editors give this speech to Marullus; and they propose other changes in the allotment of the speeches to the tribunes. They assume that only one should take the lead; whereas it is clear that the dialogue is more natural, certainly more dramatic, according to the original arrangement, where Flavius and Marullus alternately rate the people, like two smiths smiting on the same anvil. MAR. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow? 2 CIT. Why, sir, cobble you. FLAV. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? 2 CIT. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with all. 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? 2 CIT. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. 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? 0, You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! Have you climb'd up And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now strew flowers in his way, Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd; you down that way towards the Capitol; But, [Exeunt Citizens. a With all. The original has withal. The modern editors write with awl, offering an equivoque to the eye which is somewhat too palpable. This way will I: Disrobe the images, If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. MAR. May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal. Be hung with Cæsar's trophies. I'll about, Who else would soar above the view of men, And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A public Place. Enter, in procession, with music, CESAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA, a great crowd following; among them a Soothsayer. CASCA. Bid every noise be still:-Peace yet again. I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, CES. CAS. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæsar. [Music. [Music ceases. Be not deceiv'd: If I have veil'd my look, Of late, with passions of some difference, Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours: Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, CAS. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; CAS. "T is just: And it is very much lamented, Brutus, Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow. I have heard, CAS. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear: That of yourself which you yet know not of. To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. BRU. What means this shouting? I do fear the people CAS. Ay, do you fear it? The name of honour more than I fear death. As well as I do know your outward favour. In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Cæsar; so were you: For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, And swim to yonder point?"-Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it [Flourish and shout. On me. So the original. We do not change this idiomatic language of Shakspere's time into the of me of the modern. |