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.
What dost thou with thy best apparel on? —You, sir, what trade are you?
I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
I meddle with no tradesman’s matters nor women’s matters, but withal I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes.
But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plagueThat needs must light on this ingratitude.
Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia, for our elders say
Calphurnia! Stand you directly in Antonius' way When he doth run his course.—Antonius!
Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Caesar, my lord.
I shall remember. When Caesar says, “do this,” it is performed.
Ha! Who calls?
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.
Bid every noise be still. Peace yet again.
Beware the ides of March
A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass!
What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.
Will you go see the order of the course?
Fellow, come from the throng. Look upon Caesar.
Beware the ides of March.
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires. I’ll leave you.
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.
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. You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you