The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: kk1r - Tragedies, p. 109

Left Column


THE TRAGEDIE OF IVLIVS CæSAR
Actus Primus. Scœna Prima. [Act 1, Scene 1] Enter Flauius, Murellus, and certaine Commoners ouer the Stage. Flauius. HEnce: home you idle Creatures, get you home: Is this a Holiday? What, know you not (Being Mechanicall) you ought not walke Vpon a labouring day, without the signe
[5]
Of your Profession? Speake, what Trade art thou?
Car. Why Sir, a Carpenter. Mur. Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule? What dost thou with thy best Apparrell on? You sir, what Trade are you? Cobl.
[10]

Truely Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am

but as you would say, a Cobler.

Mur. But what Trade art thou? Answer me directly. Cob.

A Trade Sir, that I hope I may vse, with a safe

Conscience, which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad soules.

Fla.
[15]

What Trade thou knaue? Thou naughty knaue,

what Trade?

Cobl.

Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with me: yet

if you be out Sir, I can mend you.

Mur.

What mean'st thou by that? Mend mee, thou

[20]

sawcy Fellow?

Cob.

Why sir, Cobble you.

Fla.

Thou art a Cobler, art thou?

Cob.

Truly sir, all that I liue by, is with the Aule: I

meddle with no Tradesmans matters, nor womens mat­

[25]

ters; but withal I am indeed Sir, a Surgeon to old shooes:

when they are in great danger, I recouer them. As pro­

per men as euer trod vpon Neats Leather, haue gone vp­

on my handy‑worke.

Fla. But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day?
[30]
Why do'st thou leade these men about the streets?
Cob.

Truly sir, to weare out their shooes, to get my

selfe into more worke. But indeede sir, we make Holy­

day to see Cæsar, and to reioyce in his Triumph.

Mur. Wherefore reioyce?
[35]
What Conquest brings he home? What Tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in Captiue bonds his Chariot Wheeles? You Blockes, you stones, you worse then senslesse things: O you hard hearts, you cruell men of Rome,
[40]
Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft? Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements, To Towres and Windowes? Yea, to Chimney tops, Your Infants in your Armes, and there haue sate The liue‑long day, with patient expectation,

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Right Column


[45]
To see great Pompey passe the streets of Rome: And when you saw his Chariot but appeare, Haue you not made an Vniuersall shout, That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes To heare the replication of your sounds,
[50]
Made in her Concaue Shores? And do you now put on your best attyre? And do you now cull out a Holyday? And do you now strew Flowers in his way, That comes in Triumph ouer Pompeyes blood?
[55]
Be gone, Runne to your houses, fall vpon your knees, Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this Ingratitude.
Fla. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault
[60]
Assemble all the poore men of your sort; Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares Into the Channell, till the lowest streame Do kisse the most exalted Shores of all. Exeunt all the Commoners. See where their basest mettle be not mou'd,
[65]
They vanish tongue‑tyed in their guiltinesse: Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll, This way will I: Disrobe the Images, If you do finde them deckt with Ceremonies.
Mur. May we do so?
[70]
You know it is the Feast of Lupercall.
Fla. It is no matter, let no Images Be hung with Cæsars T ophees: Ile about, And driue away the Vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke.
[75]
These growing Feathers, pluckt from Cæsars wing, Will make him flye an ordinary pitch, Who else would soare aboue the view of men, And keepe vs all in seruile fearefulnesse.
Exeunt.
[Act 1, Scene 2] Enter Cæsar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, De­ cius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer: af­ ter them Murellus and Flauius. Cæs. Calphurnia. Cask.
[80]
Peace ho, Cæsar speakes.
Cæs. Calphurnia. Calp. Heere my Lord. Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonio's way, When he doth run his course. Antonio. Ant.
[85]
Cæsar, my Lord.
Cæs. Forget not in your speed Antonio, To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders say, kk The

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Actus Primus. Scœna Prima. [Act 1, Scene 1] Enter Flauius, Murellus, and certaine Commoners ouer the Stage. Flauius. HEnce: home you idle Creatures, get you home: Is this a Holiday? What, know you not (Being Mechanicall) you ought not walke Vpon a labouring day, without the signe
[5]
Of your Profession? Speake, what Trade art thou?
Car. Why Sir, a Carpenter. Mur. Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule? What dost thou with thy best Apparrell on? You sir, what Trade are you? Cobl.
[10]

Truely Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am

but as you would say, a Cobler.

Mur. But what Trade art thou? Answer me directly. Cob.

A Trade Sir, that I hope I may vse, with a safe

Conscience, which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad soules.

Fla.
[15]

What Trade thou knaue? Thou naughty knaue,

what Trade?

Cobl.

Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with me: yet

if you be out Sir, I can mend you.

Mur.

What mean'st thou by that? Mend mee, thou

[20]

sawcy Fellow?

Cob.

Why sir, Cobble you.

Fla.

Thou art a Cobler, art thou?

Cob.

Truly sir, all that I liue by, is with the Aule: I

meddle with no Tradesmans matters, nor womens mat­

[25]

ters; but withal I am indeed Sir, a Surgeon to old shooes:

when they are in great danger, I recouer them. As pro­

per men as euer trod vpon Neats Leather, haue gone vp­

on my handy‑worke.

Fla. But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day?
[30]
Why do'st thou leade these men about the streets?
Cob.

Truly sir, to weare out their shooes, to get my

selfe into more worke. But indeede sir, we make Holy­

day to see Cæsar, and to reioyce in his Triumph.

Mur. Wherefore reioyce?
[35]
What Conquest brings he home? What Tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in Captiue bonds his Chariot Wheeles? You Blockes, you stones, you worse then senslesse things: O you hard hearts, you cruell men of Rome,
[40]
Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft? Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements, To Towres and Windowes? Yea, to Chimney tops, Your Infants in your Armes, and there haue sate The liue‑long day, with patient expectation,
[45]
To see great Pompey passe the streets of Rome: And when you saw his Chariot but appeare, Haue you not made an Vniuersall shout, That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes To heare the replication of your sounds,
[50]
Made in her Concaue Shores? And do you now put on your best attyre? And do you now cull out a Holyday? And do you now strew Flowers in his way, That comes in Triumph ouer Pompeyes blood?
[55]
Be gone, Runne to your houses, fall vpon your knees, Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this Ingratitude.
Fla. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault
[60]
Assemble all the poore men of your sort; Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares Into the Channell, till the lowest streame Do kisse the most exalted Shores of all. Exeunt all the Commoners. See where their basest mettle be not mou'd,
[65]
They vanish tongue‑tyed in their guiltinesse: Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll, This way will I: Disrobe the Images, If you do finde them deckt with Ceremonies.
Mur. May we do so?
[70]
You know it is the Feast of Lupercall.
Fla. It is no matter, let no Images Be hung with Cæsars T ophees: Ile about, And driue away the Vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke.
[75]
These growing Feathers, pluckt from Cæsars wing, Will make him flye an ordinary pitch, Who else would soare aboue the view of men, And keepe vs all in seruile fearefulnesse.
Exeunt.
 

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   <head rend="italic center">Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.</head>
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   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Flauius, Murellus, and certaine Commoners
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         <c rend="droppedCapital">H</c>Ence: home you idle Creatures, get you home:</l>
      <l n="2">Is this a Holiday? What, know you not</l>
      <l n="3">(Being Mechanicall) you ought not walke</l>
      <l n="4">Vpon a labouring day, without the signe</l>
      <l n="5">Of your Profession? Speake, what Trade art thou?</l>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Mur.</speaker>
      <l n="7">Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule?</l>
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      <l n="9">You sir, what Trade are you?</l>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Cobl.</speaker>
      <p n="10">Truely Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am
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      <speaker rend="italic">Mur.</speaker>
      <l n="12">But what Trade art thou? Answer me directly.</l>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Cob.</speaker>
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      <lb n="14"/>Conscience, which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad soules.</p>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Fla.</speaker>
      <p n="15">What Trade thou knaue? Thou naughty knaue,
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      <speaker rend="italic">Cobl.</speaker>
      <p n="17">Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with me: yet
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   <sp who="#F-jc-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mur.</speaker>
      <p n="19">What mean'st thou by that? Mend mee, thou
      <lb n="20"/>sawcy Fellow?</p>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-cob">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cob.</speaker>
      <p n="21">Why sir, Cobble you.</p>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-fla">
      <speaker rend="italic">Fla.</speaker>
      <p n="22">Thou art a Cobler, art thou?</p>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-cob">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cob.</speaker>
      <p n="23">Truly sir, all that I liue by, is with the Aule: I
      <lb n="24"/>meddle with no Tradesmans matters, nor womens mat­
      <lb n="25"/>ters; but withal I am indeed Sir, a Surgeon to old shooes:
      <lb n="26"/>when they are in great danger, I recouer them. As pro­
      <lb n="27"/>per men as euer trod vpon Neats Leather, haue gone vp­
      <lb n="28"/>on my handy‑worke.</p>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-fla">
      <speaker rend="italic">Fla.</speaker>
      <l n="29">But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day?</l>
      <l n="30">Why do'st thou leade these men about the streets?</l>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-cob">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cob.</speaker>
      <p n="31">Truly sir, to weare out their shooes, to get my
      <lb n="32"/>selfe into more worke. But indeede sir, we make Holy­
      <lb n="33"/>day to see Cæsar, and to reioyce in his Triumph.</p>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mur.</speaker>
      <l n="34">Wherefore reioyce?</l>
      <l n="35">What Conquest brings he home?</l>
      <l n="36">What Tributaries follow him to Rome,</l>
      <l n="37">To grace in Captiue bonds his Chariot Wheeles?</l>
      <l n="38">You Blockes, you stones, you worse then senslesse things:</l>
      <l n="39">O you hard hearts, you cruell men of Rome,</l>
      <l n="40">Knew you not<hi rend="italic">Pompey</hi>many a time and oft?</l>
      <l n="41">Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements,</l>
      <l n="42">To Towres and Windowes? Yea, to Chimney tops,</l>
      <l n="43">Your Infants in your Armes, and there haue sate</l>
      <l n="44">The liue‑long day, with patient expectation,</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="45">To see great<hi rend="italic">Pompey</hi>passe the streets of Rome:</l>
      <l n="46">And when you saw his Chariot but appeare,</l>
      <l n="47">Haue you not made an Vniuersall shout,</l>
      <l n="48">That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes</l>
      <l n="49">To heare the replication of your sounds,</l>
      <l n="50">Made in her Concaue Shores?</l>
      <l n="51">And do you now put on your best attyre?</l>
      <l n="52">And do you now cull out a Holyday?</l>
      <l n="53">And do you now strew Flowers in his way,</l>
      <l n="54">That comes in Triumph ouer<hi rend="italic">Pompeyes</hi>blood?</l>
      <l n="55">Be gone,</l>
      <l n="56">Runne to your houses, fall vpon your knees,</l>
      <l n="57">Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague</l>
      <l n="58">That needs must light on this Ingratitude.</l>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-fla">
      <speaker rend="italic">Fla.</speaker>
      <l n="59">Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault</l>
      <l n="60">Assemble all the poore men of your sort;</l>
      <l n="61">Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares</l>
      <l n="62">Into the Channell, till the lowest streame</l>
      <l n="63">Do kisse the most exalted Shores of all.</l>
      <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt all the Commoners.</stage>
      <l n="64">See where their basest mettle be not mou'd,</l>
      <l n="65">They vanish tongue‑tyed in their guiltinesse:</l>
      <l n="66">Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll,</l>
      <l n="67">This way will I: Disrobe the Images,</l>
      <l n="68">If you do finde them deckt with Ceremonies.</l>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mur.</speaker>
      <l n="69">May we do so?</l>
      <l n="70">You know it is the Feast of Lupercall.</l>
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   <sp who="#F-jc-fla">
      <speaker rend="italic">Fla.</speaker>
      <l n="71">It is no matter, let no Images</l>
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      <l n="73">And driue away the Vulgar from the streets;</l>
      <l n="74">So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke.</l>
      <l n="75">These growing Feathers, pluckt from<hi rend="italic">Cæsars</hi>wing,</l>
      <l n="76">Will make him flye an ordinary pitch,</l>
      <l n="77">Who else would soare aboue the view of men,</l>
      <l n="78">And keepe vs all in seruile fearefulnesse.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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