The spirit with which the poet has entered at once into the manners of the common people, and the jealousies and heart-burnings of the different factions, is shown in the first scene, where Flavius and Marullus, tribunes of the people, and some citizens of Rome, appear upon the stage. ‘_Flavius._ Thou art a cobler, art thou? _Cobler._ Truly, Sir, _all_ that I live by, is the _awl_. I meddle with no tradesman’s matters, nor woman’s matters, but _with-al_, I am indeed, Sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. _Flavius._ But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? _Cobler._ Truly, Sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But indeed, Sir, we make holiday to see Cæsar, and rejoice in his triumph.’ To this specimen of quaint low humour immediately follows that unexpected and animated burst of indignant eloquence, put into the mouth of one of the angry tribunes. ‘_Marullus._ Wherefore rejoice!—What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive-bonds his chariot-wheels? Oh 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 live-long 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 Tyber trembled underneath his banks To hear the replication of your sounds, Made in his concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out an holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood? Begone—— Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague, That needs must light on this ingratitude.’ The well-known dialogue between Brutus and Cassius, in which the latter breaks the design of the conspiracy to the former, and partly gains him over to it, is a noble piece of high-minded declamation. Cassius’s insisting on the pretended effeminacy of Cæsar’s character, and his description of their swimming across the Tiber together, ‘once upon a raw and gusty day,’ are among the finest strokes in it. But perhaps the whole is not equal to the short scene which follows, when Cæsar enters with his train:— ‘_Brutus._ The games are done, and Cæsar is returning. _Cassius._ As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve, And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What has proceeded worthy note to day.