Julius Caesar

Act 1 Scene 1 running scene 1

Enter Flavius, Murellus and certain Commoners over the stage

FLAVIUS 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?

CARPENTER Why, sir, a carpenter.

MURELLUS Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?

What dost thou with thy best apparel on?-

You, sir, what trade are you?

COBBLER Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but as you would say, a cobbler.

MURELLUS But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

COBBLER A trade, sir, that I hope, I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

FLAVIUS What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

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

MURELLUS What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

COBBLER Why sir, cobble you.

FLAVIUS Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

COBBLER Truly sir, all that I live by is with the awl. I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women'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 handiwork.

FLAVIUS But wherefore art not in thy shop today?

Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

COBBLER Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph.

MURELLUS 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 Tiber 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.

FLAVIUS 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.-

Exeunt all the Commoners

See where their basest mettle be not moved:

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 decked with ceremonies.

MURELLUS May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

FLAVIUS It is no matter. Let no images

Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about

And drive away the vulgar from the streets;

So do you too, where you perceive them thick.

These growing feathers plucked from Caesar'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

[Act 1 Scene 2] running scene 1 continues

Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calpurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer, after them Murellus and Flavius

CAESAR Calpurnia.

CASCA Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

CAESAR Calpurnia.

CALPURNIA Here, my lord.

CAESAR Stand you directly in Antonio's way

When he doth run his course. Antonio!

ANTONY Caesar, my lord.

CAESAR Forget not in your speed, Antonio,

To touch Calpurnia, for our elders say,

The barren touchèd in this holy chase

Shake off their sterile curse.

ANTONY I shall remember.

When Caesar says 'Do this' it is performed.

CAESAR Set on, and leave no ceremony out. Music

SOOTHSAYER Caesar!

CAESAR Ha? Who calls?

CASCA Bid every noise be still: peace yet again! Music stops

CAESAR Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue shriller than all the music,

Cry 'Caesar!' Speak, Caesar is turned to hear.

SOOTHSAYER Beware the Ides of March.

CAESAR What man is that?

BRUTUS A soothsayer bids you beware the Ides of March.

CAESAR Set him before me: let me see his face.

CASSIUS Fellow, come from the throng: look upon Caesar. Soothsayer comes forward

CAESAR What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again.

SOOTHSAYER Beware the Ides of March.

CAESAR He is a dreamer. Let us leave him: pass.

Sennet. Exeunt. Brutus and Cassius remain

CASSIUS Will you go see the order of the course?

BRUTUS Not I.

CASSIUS I pray you do.

BRUTUS 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.

CASSIUS 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.

BRUTUS Cassius,

Be not deceived: if I have veiled 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 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.

CASSIUS 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?

BRUTUS No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself

But by reflection, by some other things.

CASSIUS 'Tis just,

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors 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 Caesar - speaking of Brutus,

And groaning underneath this age's yoke,

Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.

BRUTUS Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

CASSIUS 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 you yet know not of.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:

Were I a common laughter, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester, 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,...