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Guards and Attendants.

SCENE, for the three firft Alts, at Rome: afterwards at an Isle near Mutina; at Sardis; and Philippi.




A C T I.

SCENE, a Street in Rome.

Enter Flavius, (1) Marullus, and certain Commoners.



ENCE; 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 fign
Of your profeffion? speak, what trade
art thou?

Car. Why, Sir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What doft thou with thy beft apparel on ?
You, Sir, What trade are you?

Cob. Truly, Sir, in refpect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobler.

Mar. But what trade art thou? answer me directly. Cob. A trade, Sir, that, I hope, I may use with a fafe confcience; which is, indeed, Sir, a mender of bad foals.

(1) Murellus.] I have, upon the Authority of Plutarch, &c. given to this Tribune, his right Name, Marullus.


A 3

Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

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

(2) Flav. What mean'ft thou by that? mend me, thou fawcy fellow ?

Cob. Why, Sir, cobble you.

Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

Cob. Truly, Sir, all, that I live by, is the awl: I meddle with no tradefman's matters, nor woman's matters; but with-all, I am, indeed, Sir, a furgeon to old fhoes; 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 doft thou lead these men about the streets?

Cob. Truly, Sir, to wear out their fhoes, to get my felf into more work. But, indeed, Sir, we make holiday to fee Cafar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice! what conqueft brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels ?
You blocks, you ftones, you worse than fenfeless 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 fate
The live-long day with patient expectation,
To fee great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
And when you faw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your founds,
Made in his concave shores ?

(2) Mar. What mean'st thou by that?] As the Cobler, in the preceeding Speech, replies to Flavius, not to Marullus; 'tis plain, I think, this Speech must be given to Flavius.


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