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Julius Caesar

Act I, Scene 1

Rome. A street.
 
[Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners]
 
FLAVIUS
       ___      ,        ,        ,            2      ,
      Hence:| home you | idle | creatures,| get^you home:
           ,       ,    ,           ,         ,
      Is this | a ho|liday?| What know | you not
        ,         ,     ,          ,           ,
      (Being | mecha|nical)| you ought | not walk
        ,       ,   2     ,         ,          ,
      Upon | a la|boring day,| without | the sign
           ,        ,           ,           ,           ,
5     Of your | profes|sion? Speak,| what trade | art thou?
 
FIRST COMMONER
Why, sir, a carpenter.
 
MARULLUS
        ,             ,       ,        ,          ,
      Where is | thy lea|ther a|pron, and | thy rule?
             ,           ,          ,       ,      ,
      What dost | thou with | thy best | appa|rel on?
       ,               ,           ,
      You sir,| what trade | are you?  \\
 
SECOND COMMONER
Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
 
MARULLUS
But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
 
SECOND COMMONER
A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
 
MARULLUS
What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?
 
SECOND COMMONER
Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
 
MARULLUS
What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow!
 
SECOND COMMONER
Why, sir, cobble you.
 
FLAVIUS
Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
 
SECOND COMMONER
Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's 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 neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork.
 
FLAVIUS
            ,         ,         ,         ,       ,
      But where|fore art | not in | thy shop | today?
            ,           ,           ,       ,           ,
10    Why dost | thou lead | these men | about | the streets?
 
SECOND COMMONER
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.
 
MARULLUS
        ,             ,           ,           ,          ,
      Wherefore | rejoice?| What con|quest brings | he home?
            ,     ,       ,       ,         ,
      What tri|buta|ries fol|low him | to Rome,
           ,         ,         ,          ,   2      ,
      To grace | in cap|tive bonds | his cha|riot wheels?
             ,            ,           ,            ,           ,
      You blocks,| you stones,| you worse | than sense|less things:
                ,     ,          ,      ,         ,
15    O you / hard hearts,| you cru|el men | of Rome,
        ,             ,       ,   2    ,         ,
      Knew you | not Pom|pey ma|ny a time | and oft?
                    ,     ,        ,          ,       ,
      Have you / climbed up | to walls | and bat|tlements,
            ,          ,         ,         ,        ,
      To towers | and win|dows? Yea,| to chim|ney tops,
            ,        ,          ,          ,           ,
      Your in|fants in | your arms,| and there | have sat
       .    T   T   T          ,        ,     ,       2->
20    The livelong day,| with pa|tient ex|pecta||tion,
          ,           ,        ,           ,           ,
      To see | great^Pom|pey pass | the streets | of Rome:
            ,         ,         ,    2   ,        ,
      And when | you saw | his cha|riot but | appear,
            ,          ,      ,    ,        ,
      Have you | not made | a u|niver|sal shout,
            ,       ,        ,      ,           ,
      That Ti|ber trem|bled un|derneath | her banks,
           ,         ,     ,       ,           ,
25    To hear | the re|plica|tion of | your sounds
        ,    2       T   T     T
      Made in her | concave shores?  (pickup)
           ,        ,         ,          ,        ,
      And do | you now | put on | your best | attire?
           ,        ,          ,       ,    ,
      And do | you now | cull^out | a ho|liday?
           ,        ,      ,    ,                 ,
      And do | you now | strew flo/wers in | his way
             ,         ,       ,      ,          ,           ,
30    That comes | in tri|umph o|ver Pom|pey's blood?|| Be gone,
       ,    2        ,         ,     ,            ,
      Run to your | houses,| fall u|pon your || knees,
        ,               ,         2   ,           ,
      Pray / to the | gods to | intermit | the plague
             ,            ,          ,       ,      ,
      That needs | must light | on this | ingra|titude.
 
FLAVIUS
       T   T    T      ,    2          ,           ,
      Go, go, good | countrymen,| and for | this fault,
         ,       ,          ,     ,              ,
35    Assem|ble all | the poor | men of | your sort;
        ,             ,       ,           ,           ,
      Draw them | to Ti|ber banks,| and weep | your tears
       ,           ,         ,         ,         ,
      Into | the chan|nel, till | the lo|west stream
           ,          ,       ,        ,         ,
      Do kiss | the most | exal|ted shores | of all.
 
[Exeunt all the Commoners]
       ,     2             ,       ,      ,         ,
      See whether | their bas|est me|tal be | not moved;
            ,         ,      ,               ,      ,
40    They va|nish tongue-|tied in | their guil|tiness.
       ,         T    T   T       ,           ,  2
      Go you | down that way | towards the | Capitol;
        ,             ,        ,         ,   ,
      This way | will I | disrobe | the im|ages,
       ,    2       ,            ,           ,    ,
      If you do | find them | decked with | cere|monies.
 
MARULLUS
       ,        ,
      May we | do so?  (picked up)
            ,        ,         ,         ,     ,
45    You know | it is | the feast | of Lu|percal.
 
FLAVIUS
               ,  ,        ,        ,   ,
      It is / no mat|ter; let | no im|ages
           ,          ,         ,           ,       ,
      Be hung | with Cae|sar's tro|phies. I'll | about,
            ,       ,         ,        ,           ,
      And drive | away | the vul|gar from | the streets:
          ,        ,           ,         ,            ,
      So do | you too,| where you | perceive | them thick.
             ,        ,           ,            ,          ,
50    These gro|wing fea|thers plucked | from Cae|sar's wing
             ,         ,        ,    ,      ,
      Will make | him fly | an or|dina|ry pitch,
            ,            ,       ,          ,        ,
      Who else | would soar | above | the view | of men
            ,        ,        ,         ,       ,
      And keep | us all | in ser|vile fear|fulness.

[Exeunt]

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