Act 1 — I. 1 Scene I. Rome. A street[7]
Reading edition
I. 1 Scene I. Rome. A street[7]
Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners over the stage[8]
Flavius. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home: Is this a holiday? what! know you not, Being mechanical,[9] you ought not walk[10] Upon a labouring day without the sign 5Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?[11]
Carpenter.[12] Why, sir, a carpenter.
Marullus. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? 10You, sir, what trade are you?[13]
Cobbler.[14] Truly, sir, in respect of[15] a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.[16]
Marullus. But what trade art thou? answer me directly.[17]
Cobbler. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.15[18][19]
Flavius.[20][21] What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?
Cobbler. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out[22] with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
Marullus.[23] What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow?20
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 25 matters, but withal I[24][25] am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper[26] men as ever trod upon neat's-leather[27] have gone upon my handiwork.
Flavius. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? 30Why 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 Cæsar and to rejoice in his triumph.
Marullus. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? [28] 35What 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[29] 40Have[30] you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows,[31] yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The live-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:[32] 45And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That[33] Tiber trembled underneath her[34][35] banks To hear[36] the replication[37] of your sounds Made in her[34] concave shores? 50And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday?[38] And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?[39] Be gone! 55Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.[40]
Flavius. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort; 60Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.[41] [Exeunt[42] all the Commoners] See, where[43][44] their basest metal[45] be not mov'd! They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. 65Go you down that way towards the Capitol; This way will I: disrobe the images,[46] If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.[47]
Marullus. May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal.[48]
70Flavius. It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Cæsar's trophies.[49] I'll about, And drive away the vulgar[50] from the streets: So do you too, where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's wing 75Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,[51] Who else would soar above the view of men, And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [Exeunt]