Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

Cob. Truly, fir, all that I five by is, with the aw I meddle with no trade,-man's matters, nor woman's matters, but with awl. I am indeed, fir, a furgeon to old fhoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neatsleather, have gone upon my handy-work.

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy fhop to-day? Why doft thou lead thefe men about the streets?

[home?

Cob. Truly, fir, to wear out their fhoes, to get
myself into more work. But, indeed, fir, we make
holiday, to fee Cæfar, and to rejoice in his triumph.
Mar. Wherefore rejoice? what conqueft brings he
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you ftones, you worse than fenfelefs things!
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 towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have fat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To fee great Pompey pafs the streets of Rome:
And when you faw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an univerfal fhout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks,
To hear the replication of your founds
Made in his concave fhores?

And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now ftrew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?

Be

gone;

Run to your houfes, fall upon your knees,

Pray

Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs muft light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Affemble all the poor men of your fort;

Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, 'till the lowest stream

Do kifs the most exalted shores of all.

J

[Exeunt Commoners.
See, whe'r their baseft metal be not mov'd,
They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltinefs.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I: Difrobe the images,

If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
Mar. May we do fo?

You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.
Flav. It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Cæfar's trophies. I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
Thefe growing feathers, pluck'd from Cæfar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;

Who elfe would foar above the view of man,

And keep us all in fervile fearfulness.

SCENE II. The fame.

[Exeunt.

Enter CESAR, ANTONY, for the Course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, CASCA, a Soothsayer, &c.

Caf. Calphurnia,

Cafca. Peace, ho! Cæfar speaks.
Caf. Calphurnia,-

Calph. Here, my lord.

A 3

Caf.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his courfe.- -Antonius.

Ant. Cæfar, my lord.

Caf. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our elders fay, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their steril curfe.

Ant. I fhall remember:

When Cæfar fays, Do this, it is perform❜d.
Caf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæfar.

Caf. Ha! who calls?

Cafea. Bid every noife be ftill:-Peace yet again. Caf. Who is it in the prefs, that calls on me? I heard a tongue, fhriller than all the mufic, Cry, Cæfar: Speak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Caf. What man is that?

Bru. A foothfayer, bids you beware of the ides of March.

Caf. Set him before me, let me fee his face.

Caf. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæfar.

Caf. What fay'ft thou to me now? Speak once again.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Caf. He is a dreamer; let us leave him :—pass.
[Sennet. Exeunt CÆSAR, and Train.
Caf. Will you go fee the order of the course?

Bru. Not I.

Caf. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamefome; I do lack fome part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires;

I'll leave you.

Caf

Caf. Brutus, I do obferve you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness, And fhew of love, as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Caffius,

Be not deceiv'd: If I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with paffions of fome difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd
(Among which number, Caffius, be you one);
Nor conftrue any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the fhews of love to other men.

Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paflion;

By means whereof, this breast of mine hath bury'd Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you

fee your face? Bru. No, Caffius: for the eye fees not itself,

But by reflection, by fome other things.

Caf. 'Tis juft:

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no fuch mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That
you might fee your fhadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome
(Except immortal Cæfar), fpeaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have with'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,

That

That you would have me feek into myself
For that which is not in me?

Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear =
And, fince you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glafs,

Will modeftly discover to yourself

That of yourfelf which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To ftale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester; if you know
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after fcandal them; or if you know
That I profefs myfelf in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish, and fbout.

Bru. What means this fhouting? I do fear, the

Choose Cæfar for their king.

Caf. Ay, do thou fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

[people

Bru. I would not, Caffius; yet I love him well:But wherefore do you hold me here fo long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be ought toward the general good, Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently: For, let the gods fo fpeed me, as I love The name of honour more than I fear death. Caf. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the fubject of my story.I cannot tell, what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my fingle self, I had as lief not be, as live to be

« AnteriorContinuar »