 | The Tragedy of Julius Caesar |  |
ACT I.
SCENE I.
That part of Rome near the Tiber.Enter Flavius and Caska, on one Side, and Carpenter, Cobler, and Mob shouting on the other.
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?
Why Sir, a Carpenter.
Cas.
Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule?
What dost thou with thy best Apparel on?
You Sir! What Trade are you?
Cobl.
Truly Sir, in respect of a fine Workman,
I am but as you would say, a Cobler.
Cas.
But what Trade art thou? Answer me
directly.
Cobl.
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?
Cobl.
Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with
me: Yet if you be out Sir, I can mend you.
Cas.
What mean'st thou by that? Mend me,
thou sawcy Fellow!
Cobl.
Why Sir, Cobble you.
Flav.
Thou art a Cobler, art thou?
Cobl.
Truly Sir, all that I live by is with the
Awl: I meddle with no Tradesmans Matters, nor
Womens 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 Neats-Leather, have gone upon my
Handy-work.
Flav.
But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day?
Why do'st thou lead these Men about the Streets?
Cobl.
Truly Sir, to wear out their Shoes, to get
my self into more Work. But indeed Sir, we
make Holiday to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his
Triumph.
Cas.
Wherefore Rejoice?
What Conquests brings he Home?
What Tributaries follow him to Rome?
To grace in Captive bonds his Chariot Wheels?
O you hard hearts! you cruel Men of Rome!
Knew you not Pompey? many a time and oft,
Have you climb'd up to Walls and Battlements,
To Tow'rs and Windows? Yea, to Chimney tops,
Your Infants in your Arms, and there have sate
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 Tyber 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 Tyber banks, and weep your Tears
Into the Channel, till the lowest Stream
Do kiss the most exalted Shores of all.
[Exeunt Mob.
See where their basest mettle be not mov'd,
They vanish Tongue-ty'd 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.
Cas.
May we do so?
You know it is the Feast of Lupercal.
It is no matter, let no Images
Be hung with Cæsars Trophies: I'll about,
And drive away the Vulgar from the Streets;
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing Feathers, pluck'd from Cæsars wing,
Will make him flie an ordinary pitch,
Who else would soar above the view of Men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.
[Exeunt, Severally.
Enter Cæsar, Anthony, Calphurnia, Decius, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer: Merellus, Trebonius, Flavius, and Lictors.
Cæs.
Calphurnia.
Cask.
Peace ho, Cæsar speaks.
Cæs.
Calphurnia!
Calph.
Here, my Lord.
Cæs.
Stand you directly in Anthony's way,
When he doth run his Course. Anthony
Ant.
Cæsar, my Lord.
Cæs.
Forget not in your speed Anthony,
To touch Calphurnia; for our Elders say,
The Barren touched in this holy Chace,
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?
Cask.
Bid every noise be still; Peace yet again.
Cæs.
Who is it in the Press that calls on me?
I hear a Tongue shriller then all the Rest
Cry, Cæsar: Speak, Cæsar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth.
Beware the Ides of March.
Cæs.
What Man is that?
A Sooth-sayer bids you beware the Ides of March
Cæ.
Set him before me, let me see his face.
Cassi.
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. Manet. Brut. and Cassi.
Cassi.
Will you go see the Order of the Course?
Brut.
Not I.
Cassi.
I pray you do.
Brut.
I am not Gamesome: I do lack some part
Of that quick Spirit that is in Anthony:
Let me not hinder Cassius your desires;
I'll leave you.
Cassi.
Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from your Eyes, that gentleness
And shew of Love, as I was wont to have:
You bear too stubborn, and too strange a hand
Over your Friend, that Loves you.
Brut.
Cassius,
Be not deceiv'd: If I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my Countenance
Meerly upon my self. Vexed I am
Of late, with Passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to my self,
But let not therefore my good Friends be griev'd
(Among which number Cassius be you one)
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Then that poor Brutus with himself at War,
Forgets the shews of Love to other Men.
Cassi.
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?
Brut.
No Cassius.
By some other things.
Cassi.
'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 Ages yoak,
Have wish'd, that Noble Brutus had his Eyes.
Brut.
Into what Dangers, would you
Lead me Cassius?
That you would have me seek into my self,
For that which is not in me?
Cassi.
Therefore good Brutus be prepar'd to hear:
And since you know, you cannot see your self
So well as by Reflection; I your Glass,
Will modestly discover to your self
That of your self, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of 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 hugg them hard,
And after Scandal them: Or if you know,
That I profess my self in Banquetting
To all the Rout, then hold me dangerous.
[a Shout within.
Brut.
What means this Shouting?
I do fear, the People choose Cæsar
For their King.
Cassi.
Ay, do you fear it?
Then must I think you would not have it so.
Brut.
I would not Cassius, yet I love him well:
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
If it be ought toward the general good,
Set Honour in one Eye, and Death i'th'other,
And I will look on both indifferent:
For let the Gods so speed me, as I love
The name of Honour, more then I fear Death.
Cassi.
I know that Vertue 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 my self.
I was born free as Cæsar, so were you,
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the Winters cold, as well as he.
For once upon a Raw and Gusty Day,
The troubled Tyber, chafing with her Shores,
Cæsar said to me, dar'st thou Cassius now
Leap in with me into this angry Flood,
And swim to yonder Point? Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bad 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 Controversie.
But e're we could arrive the Point propos'd,
Cæsar cry'd, Help me Cassius, or I sink.
I (as Æneas, our great Ancestor,
Did from the Flames of Troy, upon his Shoulder
The old Anchises bear) so, from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tyred Cæsar: And this Man,
Is now become a God, and Cassius is
A wretched Creature, and must bend his Body,
If Cæsar carelesly but nod on him.
He had a Feaver when he was in Spain,
How he did shake: 'Tis true, this God did shake,
His Coward lips did from their colour flie,
And that same Eye, whose Bend doth awe the World
Did lose his Lustre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that Tongue of his, that bad the Romans
Mark him, and write his Speeches in their Books,
Alas, it cryed, Give me some drink Titinius,
As a sick Girl: Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A Man of such a feeble Temper should
So get the start of the Majestick World,
And bear the Palm alone.
[Shout agen.
Brut.
Another general Shout!
I do believe, that these Applauses are
For some new Honours, that are heap'd on Cæsar.
Cassi.
Why Man, he doth bestride the narrow World!
Like a Colossus, and we petty Men
Walk under his huge Legs, and peep about
To find our selves dishonourable Graves.
Men at some time, are Masters of their Fates.
The fault (dear Brutus) is not in our Stars,
But in our selves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Cæsar: What should be in that Cæsar?
Why should that name be sounded more then yours?
Write them together: Yours, is as fair a Name:
Sound them, it doth become the Mouth as well.
Weigh them it is as heavy: Conjure with 'em,
Brutus will start a Spirit as soon as Cæsar.
Now in the Names of all the Gods at once,
Upon what Meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great! Age, thou art sham'd.
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of Noble Bloods.
When went there by an Age, since the great Flood,
But it was fam'd with more then with one Man?
When could they say (till now) that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide Walks incompast but one Man?
There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd
Th'eternal Devil to keep his State in Rome,
As easily as a King.
Bru.
That you do love me, I am nothing jealous:
What you would work me too, I have some aim:
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter. For the present,
I would not so (with love I might intreat you)
Be any further mov'd: What you have said,
I will consider: What you have to say
I will with patience hear, and find a time
Both meet to hear, and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble Friend, depend on this:
Brutus had rather be a Villager,
Then to repute himself a Son of Rome
Under these hard Conditions, as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
Cassi.
I am glad that my weak words
Have struck but thus much shew of fire from Brutus.
[Shout and Flourish here.
Brut.
The Games are done,
And Cæsar is returning.
Cassi.
As they pass by,
Pluck Caska by the Sleeve,
And he will (after his sour fashion) tell you
What hath proceeded worthy note to Day.
Enter Cæsar and Train as before.
Brut.
I will do so: But look you Cassius,
The angry spot doth glow on Cæsars brow,
And all the rest, look like a chidden Train;
Calphurnia's Cheek is pale.
Cassi.
Caska will tell us what the Matter is.
Cæs.
Anthony.
Ant.
Cæsar.
Let me have Men about me, that are Fat,
Sleek-headed Men, and such as sleep a Nights;
Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look,
He thinks too much: Such Men are dangerous.
Ant.
Fear him not Cæsar, he's not dangerous,
He is a Noble Roman, and well given.
Cassi.
Would he were fatter: But I fear him not:
Yet if my Name were liable to fear,
I do not know the Man I should avoid
So soon as yon spare Cassius. He reads much,
He is a great Observer, and he looks
Quite thro' the Deeds of Men. He loves no Plays,
As thou dost Anthony: He hears no Musick;
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his Spirit
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.
Such Men as he be never at Hearts ease,
Whilst they behold a greater then themselves,
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,
Then what I fear: For always I am Cæsar.
Come on my right Hand, for this Ear is deaf,
And tell me truly, what thou think'st of him.
[Exeunt Cæsar and Train.
Cask.
You pull'd me by the Cloak, would you
speak with me?
Bru.
Ay, Caska, tell us what hath chanc'd to day
That Cæsar looks so sad.
Cask.
Why you were with him, were you not?
Bru.
I should not then ask Caska what had
chanc'd.
Cask.
Why, there was a Crown offer'd him;
and being offer'd him, he put it by with the back
of his Hand thus, and then the People fell a Shouting.
Bru.
What was the second Shout for?
Cask.
Why, for that too
They Shouted thrice, what was the last
Cry for?
Cask.
Why for that too.
Bru.
Was the Crown offer'd him thrice?
Cask.
Ay, marry was't, and he put it by thrice,
every time gentler than other; and at every putting
by, mine honest Neighbours shouted.
Cassi.
Who offer'd him the Crown?
Cask.
Why, Anthony.
Brut.
Tell us the manner of it, gentle Caska.
Caska.
I can as well be hang'd as tell the manner
of it: It was meer Foolery, I did not mark
it. I saw Mark Anthony offer him a Crown, and
as I told you he put it by once: but for all that,
to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then
he offered it to him again: then he put it by again:
But to my thinking, he was very loath to
lay his Fingers off it. And then he offered it the
third time; he put it the third time by, and still
as he refus'd it, the Rabble houted, and clapp'd
their chop'd Hands, and threw up their sweaty
Night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking
Breath, because Cæsar refus'd the Crown, that it
had (almost) choak'd Cæsar: For he swoun'd, and
fell down at it: And for my own part, I durst
not laugh, for fear of opening my Lips, and receiving
the bad Air.
Cassi.
But soft I pray you: What, did Cæsar
swound?
Cask.
He fell down in the Market-place, and
foam'd at Mouth, and was speechless.
Brut.
'Tis very like he hath the Falling-sickness.
Cassi.
No, Cæsar has it not: but you, and I,
And honest Caska, we have the Falling-sickness.
Cask.
I know not what you mean by that, but I
am sure Cæsar fell down. If the tag-rag People
pleas'd and displeas'd them, as they used to do the
Players in the Theatre, I am no true Man.
Brut.
What said he, when he came unto himself?
Cask.
Marry, before he fell down, when he
perceiv'd the Common Herd was glad he refus'd
the Crown, he pluck'd me ope his Doublet, and
offer'd them his Throat to cut; and had I been a
Man of any Occupation, if I would not have taken
him at his Word, I would I might go to
Hell among the Rogues; and so he fell. When
he came to himself again, he said, if he had
done, or said any thing amiss, he desir'd their
Worships to think it was his Infirmity. Three
or Four Wenches where I stood, cried, Alas
good Soul! and forgave him with all their
Hearts: But there's no heed to be taken of them:
If Cæsar had stab'd their Mothers, they would
have done no less.
Brut.
And after that, he came thus sad away?
Cask.
Ay.
Cassi.
Did Cicero say any thing?
Cask.
Ay, he spoke Greek.
Cassi.
To what effect?
Cask.
Nay, and I tell you that, I'll ne're look
you i'th'Face again. But those that understood
him, smil'd at one another, and shook their
Heads: but for mine own part, it was Greek to
me. I could tell you more News too: Merellus
and Flavius, for pulling Scarfs off Cæsar's Images,
are put to silence. Fare you well. There was
more Foolery yet, if I could remember it.
Cassi.
Will you sup with me to Night, Caska?
Cask.
No, I am promis'd forth.
Cassi.
Will you dine with me to Morrow?
Ay, if I be alive, and your Mind hold,
and your Dinner worth the eating.
Cassi.
Good, I will expect you.
Cask.
Do so: farewell both.
[Exit.
Brut.
What a blunt Fellow is this grown to be?
He was quick Mettle when he went to School.
Cassi.
So he is now, in execution
Of any bold, or noble Enterprize,
However he puts on this tardy Form:
This Rudeness is a Sawce to his good Wit,
Which gives Men Stomach to disgest his Words
With better Appetite.
Brut.
And so it is.
For this time I will leave you.
To Morrow if you please to speak with me,
I will come to you: or if you will
Come home to me, I will wait for you.
Cassi.
I will do so: till then, think of the World.
[Exit. Brutus.
Well Brutus, thou art Noble: yet I see
Thy Honourable Mettle may be wrought
From that it is dispos'd; therefore it is meet,
That noble Minds keep ever with their Like:
For who so firm, that cannot be seduc'd?
Cæsar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus.
If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius,
He should not humour me. I will this Night,
In several Hands, in at his Windows throw,
As if they came from the several Citizens
Writings, all tending to the great Opinion
That Rome holds of his Name: wherein obscurely
Cæsar's Ambition shall be glanced at.
And after this, let Cæsar seat him sure,
For we will shake him, or worse Days endure.
[Exit.
| The Tragedy of Julius Caesar | |