« 前へ次へ »
servants to BRUTUS.
CALPHURNIA, wife to CÆSAR.
Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a rabble of
Citizens. 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 ?
i 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. 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.
Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?
2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you.
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. 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? 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 towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong 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 liber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds, Made in her concave shores ? 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 ? Be gone ! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this
fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort; Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
[Exit Citizens. See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd; They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol ; This way will I : Disrobe the images, If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
Mar. May.we do so ?
Flav. It is no matter ; let no images
SCENE II.-The same. A public Place. Enter, in procession, with music, CÆSAR; ANTONY,
for the course ; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS,
Peace, ho ! Cæsar speaks.
(Music ceases. Cæs.
Calphurnia, Cal. Here, my lord.
Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course. --Antonius,
Ant. Cæsar, iny lord.
Cæs. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,
I shall remember :
Ha! Who calls ?
Sooth, Beware the ides of March,
What man is that?
Cæs. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once
again. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Ces. He is a dreamer ; let us leave him ;-pass.
(Sennet. Exeunt all but BRU, and Cas. 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
Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late :
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, by some other things.
Cas. 'T is just :