5HEnce: home you idle Creatures, get you home:

6Is this a Holiday? What, know you not

7(Being Mechanicall) you ought not walke

8Vpon a labouring day, without the signe

9Of your Profession? Speake, what Trade art thou?

10Car. Why Sir, a Carpenter.

11Mur. Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule?

12What dost thou with thy best Apparrell on?

13You sir, what Trade are you?

14Cobl. Truely Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am

15but as you would say, a Cobler.

16Mur. But what Trade art thou? Answer me directly.

17Cob. A Trade Sir, that I hope I may vse, with a safe

18Conscience, which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad soules.

19Fla. What Trade thou knaue? Thou naughty knaue,

20what Trade?

21Cobl. Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with me: yet

22if you be out Sir, I can mend you.

23Mur. What mean st thou by that? Mend mee, thou

24sawcy Fellow?

25Cob. Why sir, Cobble you.

26Fla. Thou art a Cobler, art thou?

27Cob. Truly sir, all that I liue by, is with the Aule: I

28meddle with no Tradesmans matters, nor womens mat-

29ters; but withal I am indeed Sir, a Surgeon to old shooes:

30when they are in great danger, I recouer them. As pro-

31per men as euer trod vpon Neats Leather, haue gone vp-

32on my handy-worke.

33Fla. But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day?

34Why do'st thou leade these men about the streets?

35Cob. Truly sir, to weare out their shooes, to get my

36selfe into more worke. But indeede sir, we make Holy-

37day to see Caesar, and to reioyce in his Triumph.

38Mur. Wherefore reioyce?

39What Conquest brings he home?

40What Tributaries follow him to Rome,

41To grace in Captiue bonds his Chariot Wheeles?

42You Blockes, you stones, you worse then senslesse things:

43O you hard hearts, you cruell men of Rome,

44Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft?

45Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements,

46To Towres and Windowes? Yea, to Chimney tops,

47Your Infants in your Armes, and there haue sate

48The liue-long day, with patient expectation,

49To see great Pompey passe the streets of Rome:

50And when you saw his Chariot but appeare,

51Haue you not made an Vniuersall shout,

52That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes

53To heare the replication of your sounds,

54Made in her Concaue Shores?

55And do you now put on your best attyre?

56And do you now cull out a Holyday?

57And do you now strew Flowers in his way,

58That comes in Triumph ouer Pompeyes blood?

59Be gone,

60Runne to your houses, fall vpon your knees,

61Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague

62That needs must light on this Ingratitude.

63Fla. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault

64Assemble all the poore men of your sort;

65Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares

66Into the Channell, till the lowest streame

67Do kisse the most exalted Shores of all.

69See where their basest mettle be not mou'd,

70They vanish tongue-tyed in their guiltinesse:

71Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll,

72This way will I: Disrobe the Images,

73If you do finde them deckt with Ceremonies.

74Mur. May we do so?

75You know it is the Feast of Lupercall.

76Fla. It is no matter, let no Images

77Be hung with Caesars Trophees: Ile about,

78And driue away the Vulgar from the streets;

79So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke.

80These growing Feathers, pluckt from Caesars wing,

81Will make him flye an ordinary pitch,

82Who else would soare aboue the view of men,

83And keepe vs all in seruile fearefulnesse. Exeunt

87Caes. Calphurnia.

88Cask. Peace ho, Caesar speakes.

89Caes. Calphurnia.

90Calp. Heere my Lord.

91Caes. Stand you directly in Antonio's way,

92When he doth run his course. Antonio.

93Ant. Caesar, my Lord.

94Caes. Forget not in your speed Antonio,

95To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders say,