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I. Rome. A street.
I. ROMAe _Via quaedam._
Enter Flavius, Marullus and a throng of Citizens.
FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, CIVIUM TURBA.
FLAVIUS. Hence! 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 sign Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?
_Flav._--Hinc, domum, ignavi; apagite, domum; num hodie ferias agitis? Quid? Nescitisne nefas esse cuivis artifici die profesto deambulare, nisi insignibus artis suae induto? Heus tu! Cujusnam artis tu artifex?
CARPENTER. Why, sir, a carpenter.
_Civis 1._--Ego, domine, faber lignarius.
MARULLUS. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? You, sir, what trade are you?
_Mar._--Ubi ergo vestis coriacea? ubi regula? quid vult vestitus iste nitidior? Heus et tu; quamnam et tu artem?
COBBLER. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
_Civis 2._--Nullam sane artem ego, domine; opifex sum inops, non artifex.
MARULLUS. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
_Mar._--Qualis ergo opifex? Statim dicas.
COBBLER. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
_Civis 2._--Honestus, spero, neque infimus; quamvis inter ima hominum versor.
MARULLUS. What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?
_Mar._--Quale opus, impudens? quale opus tuum?
COBBLER. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
_Civis 2._--Ne, domine, rumparis. Sin te ruperis, ego te consuere possum.
MARULLUS. What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow!
_Mar._--Mene consuere? quid vis, procax?
COBBLER. Why, sir, cobble you.
_Civis 2._--Calceos nempe tuos, domine.
FLAVIUS. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
_Mar._--Ergone sutor es?
COBBLER. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl; I meddle with no tradesman’s matters, nor women’s matters, but withal 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.
_Civis 2._--Immo, sutor, et totus in subula: nil ego ultra crepidam. Calceorum veterum chirurgus sum; illos, quantumvis aegros, redintegro. Eorum qui bovino corio insistunt, nulli decentiores quam qui operi meo innituntur.
FLAVIUS. But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
_Mar._--Quare autem hodie foris? Quid est quod hosce tecum circa vias ducis?
COBBLER. 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.
_Civis 2._--Quid? nisi ut calceos terant, quos ad me reparandos ferant. Sed tamen, ut verum dicam, domine, ferias agimus, ut Caesarem spectemus, et in ejus triumpho laetemur.
MARULLUS. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What 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 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 sat The livelong day with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome. And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.
_Mar._--Et quapropter "laetemur?" Quam victoriae mercedem secum iste retulit? Quot captos duces, qui devincti currum ejus triumphalem exornent? O vos stipites, O lapides, O si quid sit istis magis iners stupidumque; O dura ilia; O Romani excordes; nonne Pompeium meministis? Quoties in muros et crepidines, in turres fenestrasque, immo atque in summa tectorum culmina scandebatis, infantibus vobiscum adductis, et diem totum ibi insidebatis, quam patienter expectantes dum Magnus per Romae vias pompam duceret: curruque ejus vixdum viso, nonne vos tantum clamorem tollebatis, ut ipse contremeret Tiberis, strepitu per concavas ripas replicato? Iidemque nunc induitisne vestitum lautiorem, ferias injussi agitis, et flores coram illo ipso spargitis, qui super Pompeii cadaver triumphans incedit? Abite! domos festinate, flexisque genibus Deos supplicate, ut stragem ingratis animis summo jure debitam avertant.
FLAVIUS. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault Assemble all the poor men of your sort, Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
_Fla._--Ite, redite, mi boni; et, ut culpam eluatis, vos, et vestrum consimilis turba, ad Tiberim adstantes, lacrymas in alveum instillate, donec, amnis, modo tenuis, exundans summam ripam supersiliat.
[_Exeunt Citizens._]
[_Exeunt_ CIVES.
See whether their basest metal be not mov’d; They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol; This way will I. Disrobe the images, If you do find them deck’d with ceremonies.
Viden' ut vilis ista faex plebis movetur! taciti consciique dilabuntur. Tu illac ad Capitolium; ego hac: statuas, si quas exornatas inveneris, denuda.
MARULLUS. May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
_Mar._--Nonne nefas? Lupercalia agimus.
FLAVIUS. It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Caesar’s trophies. I’ll about And drive away the vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers pluck’d from Caesar’s wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men, And keep us all in servile fearfulness.
_Fla._--Quid ad rem? Nullam statuam Caesaris tropaeis exornari decet. Ego circumibo, vulgusque de viis compellam; idem fac et tu, sicubi confertos videas. Plumis hisce nascentibus de ala avulsis, altius Caesar se levare non poterit, qui harum ope trans oculos volitaret, nos omnes, utpote servos, de caelo territurus.