Page 1
Scene: Rome, the conspirators’ camp near Sardis, and the plains of Philippi.
Act One
Scene One. Rome. A street.
Enter Flavius, Marullus and a throng of Citizens.
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?
Carpenter:
Why, sir, a carpenter.
Marullus:
Where is thy leather apron and thy rule?
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
You, sir, what trade are you?
Cobbler:
Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
Marullus:
But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
Cobbler:
A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
Marullus:
What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?
Cobbler:
Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
Marullus:
What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow!
Cobbler:
Why, sir, cobble you.
Flavius:
Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
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.
Flavius:
But wherefore art not in thy shop today?
Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
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.