Having a *great* day @caesar-the-maggot - Tumblr Blog

I'm volunteering for a literary journal right now and there's two things I think you all should know.

1. Most people that submit to literary journals are cis white men. We know this because our journal has an anonymous survey about demographics for people that submit.

2. Most things that get submitted to the creative non fiction section are on the level of middle school "What I did over the summer" essays.

I cannot see the demographics of the people whose essays I'm reading, but guys, if you are wondering if you should submit your work to a literary journal or not, I promise you that just in terms of statistics there are a lot of mediocre cis white men and people in general confidently submitting weird crap that isn't literature to literature magazines. Do it. Submit your work. Please. If you want there to be more diversity in literature, be the diversity. Do it. Do it do it do it.

In general literary magazines want to include more diversity, but if poc, queer people, disabled people, etc. don't submit their work then they aren't gonna get more diverse because we just won't have the material necessary to get more diverse. Submit your work. Do it. Do it. Do it do it do it.

Here's a list of university run literary journals. Do it. Get published.

wilthered-dreams

Many indie lit mags also welcome works from BIPOC and LGBTQIA creatives because the editorial staff themselves are in that demographic. Quarantine brought on the start of the SO many indie lit mags - it’s almost a golden age. Don’t be afraid to submit — there will always be so many niches and aesthetics that one will bound to be the one that fits your style.

There is so much work from marginalized narratives in litmags these days — people lament there is no representation in media, but that disregards the progress and diversity of the works of editors and writers who help make these litmags possible.

There is representation, and it is flourishing. They are waiting to be read.

The Lumiere Review compiles a list of submission opportunities every month, and it are always very useful:

https://lumierereview.com/sub-sep-oct-2021

List of Litmags that Specifically Look for Work from Marginalized Creators or is Run by Marginalized Creators:

Warning Lines: https://warninglines.com/

With Confetti: https://with-confetti.com/

Giving Room Magazine: http://www.givingroommag.com/

The Bitchin’ Kitsch: https://www.talbot-heindl.com/

Tealight Press: https://www.tealightpress.com/

Tipping the Scales: https://www.tippingthescalesjournal.co.uk/

The Winnow Magazine: https://www.thewinnowmagazine.com/

perhappened: https://www.perhappened.com/

AZE Journal: https://azejournal.com/

Honeyfire Lit: https://honeyfirelit.com/

and so much more!!

(And even if some litmags’ mission statement isn’t specifically for marginalized creators, they will always welcome these narratives.)

So please, please submit!

Independent magazines are great too! I’m more familiar with the university journal scene so I appreciate this addition.

martabat

hello, this is a list of asian literary journals!! it emphasizes south-east asian journals, but there’s a few from other regions as well

taigacryptid

decentralize and clean up your life!!!

use overdrive, libby, hoopla, cloudlibrary, and kanopy instead of amazon and audible.

use firefox instead of chrome or opera (both are made with chromium, which blocks functionality for ad-blockers. firefox isn't based on chromium).

use mega or proton drive instead of google drive.

get rid of bloatware

use libreoffice instead of microsoft office suite

use vetted sites on r/FREEMEDIAHECKYEAH for free movies, books, games, etc.

use trakt or letterboxd instead of imdb.

use storygraph instead of goodreads.

use darkpatterns to find mobile game with no ads or microtransactions

use ground news to read unbiased news and find blind spots in news stories.

use mediahuman or cobalt to download music, or support your favorite artists directly through bandcamp

make youtube bearable by using mtube, newpipe, or the unhook extension on chrome, firefox, or microsoft edge

use search for a cause or ecosia to support the environment instead of google

use thriftbooks to buy new or used books (they also have manga, textbooks, home goods, CDs, DVDs, and blurays)

use flashpoint to play archived online flash games

find books, movies, games, etc. on the internet archive! for starters, here's a bunch of David Attenborough documentaries and all of the Animorphs books

burn your music onto cds

use pdf24 (available online or as a desktop app) instead of adobe

use unroll.me to clean your email inboxes

use thunderbird, mailfence, countermail, edison mail, tuta, or proton mail instead of gmail

remove bloatware on windows PC, macOS, and iOS X

remove bloatware on samsung X

use pixelfed instead of instagram or meta

use NCH suite for free software like a file converter, image editor, video editors, pdf editor, etc.

feel free to add more alternatives, resources or advice in the reblogs or replies, and i'll add them to the main post <3

last updated: march 18th 2025

void-botanist

My biggest recommendations are these 3 browser extensions:

uBlock Origin blocks trackers and almost every ad on almost every site (Facebook is the only exception I can think of). It blocks YouTube ads too. It also has a "zapper" mode that lets you get rid of elements on the page, like annoying sidebar videos (it's not AI btw. it's just a little bit of developer tools CSS magic).

uBlacklist lets you block results on search engine pages. You can block them manually or by using lists such as the Huge AI Blocklist. (If you're interested in blocking AI sites specifically I also maintain a list of sites that are partnered with OpenAI. You can add it as a subscription with the raw text URL.)

Indie Wiki Buddy redirects you to either a non-Fandom wiki for a piece of media or serves you a version of the Fandom wiki that is just the content with no ads.

For PDF readers:

Firefox has a built-in pdf reader! It's good for filling in PDF fields, but for more complex edits, pdf24 looks a lot more powerful.

On Windows I used SumatraPDF.

On Linux Mint Cinnamon, I use qpdfview (also available in Software Manager) because it doesn't reset the zoom level when jumping between sections using the navigation. Just be aware it handles copying text a little differently than other readers (though it works great!).

For ebooks:

Project Gutenberg has public domain books in multiple languages and formats.

Anna's Archive is similar to the Internet Archive - a lifesaver for books that are hard to get your hands on, like the books I've used for my historical research.

For art (all of these are available on Windows, Mac, and Linux):

Photopea is an in-browser recreation of Photoshop.

Krita and FireAlpaca are drawing tools - I prefer Krita but FireAlpaca is more similar to Clip Studio Paint. You do have to pay for the enhanced version of FA to get darkmode though.

LibreSprite is a pixel sprite software.

For email addresses, I use both Tuta and Proton Mail, and I like them both. I pay for Tuta to get unlimited tags and calendars, and I use Tuta Calendar as my primary calendar. The two features I miss over Google Calendar are not being able to import public calendars and not being able to type a time in the event name and have the calendar parse that into the event time. Otherwise it's been great and I appreciate being able to easily assign custom hex colors to each calendar. One thing to note about having multiple addresses in one Tuta account is that they all go into the same inbox, which might be a dealbreaker for some folks. I'm not sure if it works the same way for Proton because I don't pay for Proton.

For more alternative suggestions, take a peek at switching.software.

zootycoon-archive

i got these knockoff boots online and instead of the brand name on the tag they have the name of an apparently nonexistent martin scorsese movie??? what the fuck

loseremo

I'm gonna reblog with some videos of people speaking various American Indian/indigenous American languages, because I think most people don't even know what they sound like. Not to be judgement of that—just, you know, I think people who want to be informed should know what they sound like!

Former president of the Navajo Nation, Joe Shirley, giving an address in Navajo.

Nora Marks Dauenhauer telling a story, "Raven and Deer", in Tlingit.

Albert White Hat, a well known Lakota teacher, translator, and activist, speaking Lakota.

This YouTube user, Grahm Wiley-Camacho, has uploaded a bunch of videos in Colville Okanagan Salish, but I'm not sure who all the speakers are.

Multiple people speaking Cherokee and talking about revitalization of the language.

This guy speaking Yucatec Maya (guest starring: adorable small child).

There's a ton of material in Greenlandic on YouTube, but it's hard for me to find, because the titles and other metadata are also in Greenlandic! Of course, this represents a huge win for the language, since this is a biproduct of being in vibrant use by a community of speakers. Greenlandic has been an official language of the territory of Greenland since 1979, and the sole official language since 2009.

Here are some proceedings of the Greenlandic parliament, the Inatsisartut, which are conducted in Greenlandic.

Here is a radio show in Greenlandic, from Kalaallit Nunaata Radioa.

And here is a video of Aki-Matilda Høegh-Dam, Greenlandic MP in the Danish parliament (Folketing), causing some upset by speaking in Greenlandic instead of Danish.

Conversation between Loran Thompson and Francis Boots in Mohawk.

Interview with Yup'ik elder Raphael Jimmy about qaneryaraq "words of wisdom/right living".

maykitz

can anyone tell me the watch order for every movie ever so i can understand all references and homages

caucasianbuttslut

@dionrevel PLEASE share the link.

dionrevel

Lol sure!!

For movies, here is the beginner's list:

Beginner's guide for getting in the loop.

And the more advanced list:

Advanced guide to getting in the loop. Supplementary to "Civilization Essentials." If a movie is on this list, then it has one of these: -Po

Not all these movies are necessarily good, but the ones that gave me small pop culture epiphanies. It made me realize that 30%-40% of the jokes from modern sitcoms are references/parodies- and these movies are their source material.

^^ This is also true for socializing. So many people I thought were naturally funny were just doing movie bits.

[I actually do have a job, I am just a big fan of lists and graphs and flow charts etc.]

felixer-of-life

Oh I adore this. As someone who missed a bunch of stuff by way of chaos and poverty. This is a nice tool.

mortimermcmirestinks

always remember, friend,

now go in peace

This meme was inspired by the piece "Lucky 10,000" by Randall Monroe.

cipher-fresh

[ID: “One man’s [“Yeah, the Time Knife, we’ve all seen it” meme] is another man’s [“Was anyone going to tell me?” meme] /End ID]

ceekari

internet heiroglyphics

queer-here-and-in-fear

shorthands for dumbassery that i have grown to love deeply

"how dare you say we piss on the poor" in response to someone misinterpreting your post

"_ isnt gonna fuck you" for suck up behavior

"woah. should we tell everyone? should we throw a party?" for who the fuck cares

"and what if the world was made of pudding" for when would this ever matter.

"and sharks are smooth both ways" for a group of people heatedly arguing with 1 guy who is fucking with them all

".. but its about a witch in the alps finding her lost cat" for someone trying to sanitize something to the point of absurdity

queer-here-and-in-fear

this is prime proof that this ENTIRE WEBSITE is autistic because nowhere else would a no tags post that's just an informative list about slang get this much traction.

queer-here-and-in-fear

anyway more addittions

“30-50 wild hogs” for someone making ABSURD excuses for violence.

“what were YOU doing at the devils sacrament” for how do you know that without being a part of it.

“anyone in this thread smoke weed” for the shit you people are saying is so off topic this might as well be a general discussion forum

“dogs are boys and cats are girls” for ooh ur mindset did not grow past 4th grade, huh

“color theory in a childrens hospital” for bending over backwards to not agree that YEA, that thing Came Off Weird

“you are a tar pit” for someone finding any reason to respond with outrage.

“is the __ in the room with us right now?” for I Don’t Think That’s Real.

“bean soup? im allergic to beans!” for ik this doesn’t work for you, but that’s not a flaw. not everything can be for you.

“people irl: hey man hows it going” for this will Never Matter irl

drakensberg-blog

The reading comprehension and overall common sense on this website is piss poor.

poupon

how dare you say we piss on the poor

pnkrathian

i feel like the knowledge that there are some medical databases with free-to-use 3D scans of various human organs available for 3D printing would have drastically reduced tumblrs amount of bone stealing scandals. plus you can make ones that glow in the dark.

look at my glow in the dark humerus boy

pnkrathian

hey. if anyone wants em:

NIH 3D Library (Free)

Embodi3D (Free and Paid)

MorphoSource (Free, database of fossils)

Scans can also be found by searching on general-purpose 3D sites like Thingiverse, Cults3D, MakerWorld, Sketchfab

The glow in the dark filament I used

If you don’t have a 3D printer, check the website of your local library to see if they do! If you’re in college, your university’s libraries could have one too! They’ll likely have info on how to submit a print to their services and how/where you could find them.

dragon-in-a-fez

hey can we. can we rewind to the part where tumblr has a regular problem with bone stealing scandals

that-aster

Friends! Romans! Countrymen!

Enemies! Nestene Duplicates! Foreigners!

Welcome to The Maggot Globe Theatre’s inaugural production of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare! Should the need arise you’ll find your emergency exit at #honorablemaggots. Please refrain from excessive photography, GIFs, or perishable produce emojis as they may distract our actors from their performances. Now-sit back, relax, and sharpen your knives. We hope you enjoy the assassination of a tyrannical emperor.

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners, ⌜including a Carpenter and a Cobbler,⌝ over the stage.

Hence! Home, you idle creatures, get you home! Is this a holiday? What, know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a laboring day without the sign Of your profession?—Speak, what trade art thou?

Why, sir, a carpenter.

Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?— You, sir, what trade are you?

Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

Why, sir, cobble you.

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

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 man as ever trop upon neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork.

But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

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.

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 climbed 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.

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.

All the Commoners exit.

See whe’er their basest mettle be not moved. 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 decked with ceremonies.

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 plucked 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.

They exit in different directions.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.

Calphurnia.

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

Calphurnia.

Here, my lord.

Stand you directly in Antonius’ way

When he doth run his course.—Antonius.

Caesar, my lord.

Forget not in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calphurnia, for our elders say

The barren, touchèd in this holy chase,

Shake off their sterile curse.

I shall remember.

When Caesar says “Do this,” it is performed.

Set on and leave no ceremony out.

Sennet.

Caesar.

Ha! Who calls?

Bid every noise be still. Peace, yet again!

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue shriller than all the music

Cry “Caesar.” Speak. Caesar is turned to hear.

Beware the ides of March.

What man is that?

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Set him before me. Let me see his face.

Fellow, come from the throng.

The Soothsayer comes forward.

Look upon Caesar.

What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.

Beware the ides of March.

He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass.

Sennet. All but Brutus and Cassius exit.

Will you go see the order of the course?

Not I.

I pray you, do.

I am not gamesome. I do lack some part

Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires.

I’ll leave you.

Brutus, I do observe you now of late.

I have not from your eyes that gentleness

And show of love as I was wont to have.

40 You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

Over your friend that loves you.

Cassius,

Be not deceived. If I have veiled my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance

Merely upon myself. Vexèd I am

Of late with passions of some difference,

Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved

(Among which number, Cassius, be you one)

Nor construe any further my neglect

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shows of love to other men.

Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself

But by reflection, by some other things.

Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard

Where many of the best respect in Rome,

Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus

And groaning underneath this age’s yoke,

Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear.

And since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus.

Were I a common laughter, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester; if you know

That I do fawn on men and hug them hard

And after scandal them, or if you know

That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish and shout.

What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Caesar for their king.

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honor in one eye and death i’ th’ other

And I will look on both indifferently;

For let the gods so speed me as I love

The name of honor more than I fear death.

I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

As well as I do know your outward favor.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

I cannot tell what you and other men

Think of this life; but, for my single self,

I had as lief not be as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Caesar; so were you;

We both have fed as well, and we can both

Endure the winter’s cold as well as he.

For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

Caesar said to me “Dar’st thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood

And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,

Accoutered as I was, I plungèd in

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.

The torrent roared, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside

And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

Caesar cried “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!”

I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Caesar. And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature and must bend his body

If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake. ’Tis true, this god did shake.

His coward lips did from their color fly,

And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world

Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan.

Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans

Mark him and write his speeches in their books,

“Alas,” it cried “Give me some drink, Titinius”

As a sick girl. You gods, it doth amaze me

A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the majestic world

And bear the palm alone.

Shout. Flourish.

Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

“Brutus” and “Caesar”—what should be in that

“Caesar”?

Why should that name be sounded more than

yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with ’em,

“Brutus” will start a spirit as soon as “Caesar.”

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,

But it was famed with more than with one man?

When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,

That her wide walks encompassed but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough

When there is in it but one only man.

O, you and I have heard our fathers say

There was a Brutus once that would have brooked

Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

As easily as a king.

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous.

What you would work me to, I have some aim.

How I have thought of this, and of these times,

I shall recount hereafter. For this present,

I would not, so with love I might entreat you,

Be any further moved. What you have said

I will consider; what you have to say

I will with patience hear, and find a time

Both meet to hear and answer such high things.

Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:

Brutus had rather be a villager

Than to repute himself a son of Rome

Under these hard conditions as this time

Is like to lay upon us.

I am glad that my weak words

Have struck but thus much show of fire from

Brutus.

Enter Caesar and his train.

The games are done, and Caesar is returning.

As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve,

And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you

What hath proceeded worthy note today.

I will do so. But look you, Cassius,

The angry spot doth glow on Caesar’s brow,

And all the rest look like a chidden train.

Calphurnia’s cheek is pale, and Cicero

Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes

As we have seen him in the Capitol,

Being crossed in conference by some senators.

Casca will tell us what the matter is.

Antonius.

Caesar.

Let me have men about me that are fat,

Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights.

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.

He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

Fear him not, Caesar; he’s not dangerous.

He is a noble Roman, and well given.

Would he were fatter! But I fear him not.

Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid

So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much,

He is a great observer, and he looks

Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays,

As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music;

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort

As if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit

That could be moved to smile at anything.

Such men as he be never at heart’s ease

Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,

And therefore are they very dangerous.

I rather tell thee what is to be feared

Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.

Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,

And tell me truly what thou think’st of him.

Friends! Romans! Countrymen!

Enemies! Nestene Duplicates! Foreigners!

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners, ⌜including a Carpenter and a Cobbler,⌝ over the stage.

Why, sir, a carpenter.

Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?— You, sir, what trade are you?

Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

Why, sir, cobble you.

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

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.

All the Commoners exit.

They exit in different directions.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.

Calphurnia.

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

Calphurnia.

Here, my lord.

Stand you directly in Antonius’ way

When he doth run his course.—Antonius.

Caesar, my lord.

Forget not in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calphurnia, for our elders say

The barren, touchèd in this holy chase,

Shake off their sterile curse.

I shall remember.

When Caesar says “Do this,” it is performed.

Set on and leave no ceremony out.

Sennet.

Caesar.

Ha! Who calls?

Bid every noise be still. Peace, yet again!

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue shriller than all the music

Cry “Caesar.” Speak. Caesar is turned to hear.

Beware the ides of March.

What man is that?

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Set him before me. Let me see his face.

Fellow, come from the throng.

The Soothsayer comes forward.

Look upon Caesar.

What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.

Beware the ides of March.

He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass.

Sennet. All but Brutus and Cassius exit.

Will you go see the order of the course?

Not I.

I pray you, do.

I am not gamesome. I do lack some part

Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires.

I’ll leave you.

Brutus, I do observe you now of late.

I have not from your eyes that gentleness

And show of love as I was wont to have.

40 You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

Over your friend that loves you.

Cassius,

Be not deceived. If I have veiled my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance

Merely upon myself. Vexèd I am

Of late with passions of some difference,

Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved

(Among which number, Cassius, be you one)

Nor construe any further my neglect

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shows of love to other men.

Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself

But by reflection, by some other things.

Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard

Where many of the best respect in Rome,

Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus

And groaning underneath this age’s yoke,

Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear.

And since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus.

Were I a common laughter, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester; if you know

That I do fawn on men and hug them hard

And after scandal them, or if you know

That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish and shout.

What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Caesar for their king.

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honor in one eye and death i’ th’ other

And I will look on both indifferently;

For let the gods so speed me as I love

The name of honor more than I fear death.

I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

As well as I do know your outward favor.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

I cannot tell what you and other men

Think of this life; but, for my single self,

I had as lief not be as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Caesar; so were you;

We both have fed as well, and we can both

Endure the winter’s cold as well as he.

For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

Caesar said to me “Dar’st thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood

And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,

Accoutered as I was, I plungèd in

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.

The torrent roared, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside

And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

Caesar cried “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!”

I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Caesar. And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature and must bend his body

If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake. ’Tis true, this god did shake.

His coward lips did from their color fly,

And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world

Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan.

Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans

Mark him and write his speeches in their books,

“Alas,” it cried “Give me some drink, Titinius”

As a sick girl. You gods, it doth amaze me

A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the majestic world

And bear the palm alone.

Shout. Flourish.

Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

“Brutus” and “Caesar”—what should be in that

“Caesar”?

Why should that name be sounded more than

yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with ’em,

“Brutus” will start a spirit as soon as “Caesar.”

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,

But it was famed with more than with one man?

When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,

That her wide walks encompassed but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough

When there is in it but one only man.

O, you and I have heard our fathers say

There was a Brutus once that would have brooked

Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

As easily as a king.

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous.

What you would work me to, I have some aim.

How I have thought of this, and of these times,

I shall recount hereafter. For this present,

I would not, so with love I might entreat you,

Be any further moved. What you have said

I will consider; what you have to say

I will with patience hear, and find a time

Both meet to hear and answer such high things.

Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:

Brutus had rather be a villager

Than to repute himself a son of Rome

Under these hard conditions as this time

Is like to lay upon us.

I am glad that my weak words

Have struck but thus much show of fire from

Brutus.

Enter Caesar and his train.

The games are done, and Caesar is returning.

As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve,

And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you

What hath proceeded worthy note today.

I will do so. But look you, Cassius,

The angry spot doth glow on Caesar’s brow,

And all the rest look like a chidden train.

Calphurnia’s cheek is pale, and Cicero

Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes

As we have seen him in the Capitol,

Being crossed in conference by some senators.

Casca will tell us what the matter is.

Antonius.

Caesar.

Let me have men about me that are fat,

Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights.

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.

He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

Friends! Romans! Countrymen!

Enemies! Nestene Duplicates! Foreigners!

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners, ⌜including a Carpenter and a Cobbler,⌝ over the stage.

Why, sir, a carpenter.

Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?— You, sir, what trade are you?

Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

Why, sir, cobble you.

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

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.

All the Commoners exit.

They exit in different directions.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.

Calphurnia.

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

Calphurnia.

Here, my lord.

Stand you directly in Antonius’ way

When he doth run his course.—Antonius.

Caesar, my lord.

Forget not in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calphurnia, for our elders say

The barren, touchèd in this holy chase,

Shake off their sterile curse.

I shall remember.

When Caesar says “Do this,” it is performed.

Set on and leave no ceremony out.

Sennet.

Caesar.

Ha! Who calls?

Bid every noise be still. Peace, yet again!

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue shriller than all the music

Cry “Caesar.” Speak. Caesar is turned to hear.

Beware the ides of March.

What man is that?

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Set him before me. Let me see his face.

Fellow, come from the throng.

The Soothsayer comes forward.

Look upon Caesar.

What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.

Beware the ides of March.

He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass.

Sennet. All but Brutus and Cassius exit.

Will you go see the order of the course?

Not I.

I pray you, do.

I am not gamesome. I do lack some part

Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires.

I’ll leave you.

Brutus, I do observe you now of late.

I have not from your eyes that gentleness

And show of love as I was wont to have.

40 You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

Over your friend that loves you.

Cassius,

Be not deceived. If I have veiled my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance

Merely upon myself. Vexèd I am

Of late with passions of some difference,

Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved

(Among which number, Cassius, be you one)

Nor construe any further my neglect

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shows of love to other men.

Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself

But by reflection, by some other things.

Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard

Where many of the best respect in Rome,

Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus

And groaning underneath this age’s yoke,

Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear.

And since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus.

Were I a common laughter, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester; if you know

That I do fawn on men and hug them hard

And after scandal them, or if you know

That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish and shout.

What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Caesar for their king.

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honor in one eye and death i’ th’ other

And I will look on both indifferently;

For let the gods so speed me as I love

The name of honor more than I fear death.

I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

As well as I do know your outward favor.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

I cannot tell what you and other men

Think of this life; but, for my single self,

I had as lief not be as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Caesar; so were you;

We both have fed as well, and we can both

Endure the winter’s cold as well as he.

For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

Caesar said to me “Dar’st thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood

And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,

Accoutered as I was, I plungèd in

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.

The torrent roared, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside

And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

Caesar cried “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!”

I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Caesar. And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature and must bend his body

If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake. ’Tis true, this god did shake.

His coward lips did from their color fly,

And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world

Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan.

Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans

Mark him and write his speeches in their books,

“Alas,” it cried “Give me some drink, Titinius”

As a sick girl. You gods, it doth amaze me

A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the majestic world

And bear the palm alone.

Shout. Flourish.

Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

“Brutus” and “Caesar”—what should be in that

“Caesar”?

Why should that name be sounded more than

yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with ’em,

“Brutus” will start a spirit as soon as “Caesar.”

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,

But it was famed with more than with one man?

When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,

That her wide walks encompassed but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough

When there is in it but one only man.

O, you and I have heard our fathers say

There was a Brutus once that would have brooked

Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

As easily as a king.

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous.

What you would work me to, I have some aim.

How I have thought of this, and of these times,

I shall recount hereafter. For this present,

I would not, so with love I might entreat you,

Be any further moved. What you have said

I will consider; what you have to say

I will with patience hear, and find a time

Both meet to hear and answer such high things.

Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:

Brutus had rather be a villager

Than to repute himself a son of Rome

Under these hard conditions as this time

Is like to lay upon us.

I am glad that my weak words

Have struck but thus much show of fire from

Brutus.

Enter Caesar and his train.

The games are done, and Caesar is returning.

As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve,

And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you

What hath proceeded worthy note today.

I will do so. But look you, Cassius,

The angry spot doth glow on Caesar’s brow,

And all the rest look like a chidden train.

Calphurnia’s cheek is pale, and Cicero

Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes

As we have seen him in the Capitol,

Being crossed in conference by some senators.

Casca will tell us what the matter is.

Antonius.

Caesar.

Let me have men about me that are fat,

Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights.

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.

He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

Friends! Romans! Countrymen!

Enemies! Nestene Duplicates! Foreigners!

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners, ⌜including a Carpenter and a Cobbler,⌝ over the stage.

Why, sir, a carpenter.

Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?— You, sir, what trade are you?

Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

Why, sir, cobble you.

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

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.

All the Commoners exit.

They exit in different directions.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.

Calphurnia.

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

Calphurnia.

Here, my lord.

Stand you directly in Antonius’ way

When he doth run his course.—Antonius.

Caesar, my lord.

Forget not in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calphurnia, for our elders say

The barren, touchèd in this holy chase,

Shake off their sterile curse.

I shall remember.

When Caesar says “Do this,” it is performed.

Set on and leave no ceremony out.

Sennet.

Caesar.

Ha! Who calls?

Bid every noise be still. Peace, yet again!

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue shriller than all the music

Cry “Caesar.” Speak. Caesar is turned to hear.

Beware the ides of March.

What man is that?

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Set him before me. Let me see his face.

Fellow, come from the throng.

The Soothsayer comes forward.

Look upon Caesar.

What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.

Beware the ides of March.

He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass.

Sennet. All but Brutus and Cassius exit.

Will you go see the order of the course?

Not I.

I pray you, do.

I am not gamesome. I do lack some part

Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires.

I’ll leave you.

Brutus, I do observe you now of late.

I have not from your eyes that gentleness

And show of love as I was wont to have.

40 You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

Over your friend that loves you.

Cassius,

Be not deceived. If I have veiled my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance

Merely upon myself. Vexèd I am

Of late with passions of some difference,

Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved

(Among which number, Cassius, be you one)

Nor construe any further my neglect

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shows of love to other men.

Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself

But by reflection, by some other things.

Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard

Where many of the best respect in Rome,

Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus

And groaning underneath this age’s yoke,

Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear.

And since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus.

Were I a common laughter, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester; if you know

That I do fawn on men and hug them hard

And after scandal them, or if you know

That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish and shout.

What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Caesar for their king.

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honor in one eye and death i’ th’ other

And I will look on both indifferently;

For let the gods so speed me as I love

The name of honor more than I fear death.

I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

As well as I do know your outward favor.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

I cannot tell what you and other men

Think of this life; but, for my single self,

I had as lief not be as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Caesar; so were you;

We both have fed as well, and we can both

Endure the winter’s cold as well as he.

For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

Caesar said to me “Dar’st thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood

And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,

Accoutered as I was, I plungèd in

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.

The torrent roared, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside

And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

Caesar cried “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!”

I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Caesar. And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature and must bend his body

If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake. ’Tis true, this god did shake.

His coward lips did from their color fly,

And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world

Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan.

Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans

Mark him and write his speeches in their books,

“Alas,” it cried “Give me some drink, Titinius”

As a sick girl. You gods, it doth amaze me

A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the majestic world

And bear the palm alone.

Shout. Flourish.

Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

“Brutus” and “Caesar”—what should be in that

“Caesar”?

Why should that name be sounded more than

yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with ’em,

“Brutus” will start a spirit as soon as “Caesar.”

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,

But it was famed with more than with one man?

When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,

That her wide walks encompassed but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough

When there is in it but one only man.

O, you and I have heard our fathers say

There was a Brutus once that would have brooked

Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

As easily as a king.

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous.

What you would work me to, I have some aim.

How I have thought of this, and of these times,

I shall recount hereafter. For this present,

I would not, so with love I might entreat you,

Be any further moved. What you have said

I will consider; what you have to say

I will with patience hear, and find a time

Both meet to hear and answer such high things.

Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:

Brutus had rather be a villager

Than to repute himself a son of Rome

Under these hard conditions as this time

Is like to lay upon us.

I am glad that my weak words

Have struck but thus much show of fire from

Brutus.

Enter Caesar and his train.

The games are done, and Caesar is returning.

As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve,

And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you

What hath proceeded worthy note today.

I will do so. But look you, Cassius,

The angry spot doth glow on Caesar’s brow,

And all the rest look like a chidden train.

Calphurnia’s cheek is pale, and Cicero

Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes

As we have seen him in the Capitol,

Being crossed in conference by some senators.

Casca will tell us what the matter is.

Antonius.

Friends! Romans! Countrymen!

Enemies! Nestene Duplicates! Foreigners!

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners, ⌜including a Carpenter and a Cobbler,⌝ over the stage.

Why, sir, a carpenter.

Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?— You, sir, what trade are you?

Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

Why, sir, cobble you.

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

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.

All the Commoners exit.

They exit in different directions.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.

Calphurnia.

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

Calphurnia.

Here, my lord.

Stand you directly in Antonius’ way

When he doth run his course.—Antonius.

Caesar, my lord.

Forget not in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calphurnia, for our elders say

The barren, touchèd in this holy chase,

Shake off their sterile curse.

I shall remember.

When Caesar says “Do this,” it is performed.

Set on and leave no ceremony out.

Sennet.

Caesar.

Ha! Who calls?

Bid every noise be still. Peace, yet again!

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue shriller than all the music

Cry “Caesar.” Speak. Caesar is turned to hear.

Beware the ides of March.

What man is that?

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Set him before me. Let me see his face.

Fellow, come from the throng.

The Soothsayer comes forward.

Look upon Caesar.

What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.

Beware the ides of March.

He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass.

Friends! Romans! Countrymen!

Enemies! Nestene Duplicates! Foreigners!

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners, ⌜including a Carpenter and a Cobbler,⌝ over the stage.

Why, sir, a carpenter.

Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?— You, sir, what trade are you?

Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

Why, sir, cobble you.

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

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.

All the Commoners exit.

They exit in different directions.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.

Calphurnia.

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

Calphurnia.

Here, my lord.

Stand you directly in Antonius’ way

When he doth run his course.—Antonius.