Flavius speaks in controlled, measured verse — the voice of institutional authority trying to hold the line. Watch for how quickly his rhetoric turns from order to fear: he ends the scene talking about Caesar soaring above 'the view of men.'
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?
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 are you?
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 are you?
hence
Why, sir, a carpenter.
Why, sir, a carpenter.
Why, sir, a carpenter.
why, sir, a carpenter
Marullus speaks in sweeping, emotional oratory — he can't help himself, he genuinely cares. His long speech to the crowd is the play's first piece of political speechmaking, and it fails completely. Watch how easily Antony will do to the crowd what Marullus cannot.
Where is thy leather apron and thy rule?
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
You, sir, what trade are you?
Where is your leather apron and your rule? What do you with your best apparel on? You, sir, what trade are you?
Where is your leather apron and your rule? What do you with your best apparel on? You, sir, what trade are you?
where is thy leather apron and thy rule
Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a
cobbler.
Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I'm but, as you would say, a cobbler.
truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, i am but, as you would say, a cobbler
The scene opens on the feast of Lupercalia (February 15), one of Rome's oldest and strangest festivals. Priests called Luperci ran nearly naked through the streets of Rome, striking women with strips of goatskin called 'februa' — women who wanted children would line the streets hoping to be struck, believing it would increase their fertility. The festival was ancient even in Caesar's time, possibly pre-Roman in origin. Shakespeare uses it because it's the setting for the crown-offering that Casca describes in 1-2: Antony offered Caesar the crown three times during this frenzied public ritual. The choice of this particular festival isn't accidental — there's something about primal power, fertility, the stripping away of normal social order, that Shakespeare wants in the air. The whole scene is about Caesar as a force of nature that the tribunes are trying to contain. The Lupercalia is when Rome's old restraints come off.
But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
But what trade are you? Answer me directly.
But what trade are you? Answer me directly.
but what trade art thou
A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is
indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
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?
What trade, you knave? you naughty knave, what trade?
What trade, you knave? you naughty knave, what trade?
what trade, thou knave
Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I
can mend you.
no, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
no, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
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!
What mean’st you by that? Mend me, you saucy fellow!
What mean’st you by that? Mend me, you saucy fellow!
what mean’st thou by that
The scene opens with what looks like comedy — a cobbler running rings around two pompous officials with puns. But Shakespeare is doing something more precise than comic relief. The cobbler is genuinely clever, genuinely self-possessed, and completely unintimidated by the tribunes' authority. His puns aren't just jokes: they're a form of resistance. When Marullus finally delivers his great speech about Pompey, the crowd silently disperses — not converted, not shamed, just gone. The cobbler, who has been the crowd's spokesperson, simply melts away. The tribunes have said everything right and accomplished nothing. This failure is the opening beat of the play's real argument: rhetoric that doesn't connect to what an audience actually wants is useless. Antony will figure out what the crowd wants. Brutus, like Marullus, will not.
Why, sir, cobble you.
Why, sir, cobble you.
Why, sir, cobble you.
why, sir, cobble you
Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
you are a cobbler, are you?
you're a cobbler, are 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 men as ever trod upon neat’s leather have gone upon my
handiwork.
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.
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'm 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.
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...
But wherefore art not in thy shop today?
Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
But wherefore are not in your shop today? Why do you lead these men about the streets?
But wherefore are not in your shop today? Why do you lead these men about the streets?
but wherefore art not in thy shop today
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.
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.
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.
truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work
Marullus's speech invokes Pompey the Great — Caesar's rival, who was murdered in Egypt after losing the civil war at Pharsalus in 48 BC. The Roman civil war between Caesar and Pompey tore the Republic apart; it was the defining political catastrophe of the previous generation. When Caesar triumphed over Pompey's surviving sons in Spain (the battle that this triumph celebrates), it was the final chapter of that war. But it was also a triumph over other Romans — and technically, Roman law prohibited triumphs over Roman citizens, only over foreign enemies. Marullus is pointing at something real: Caesar is bending the rules of the Republic even in how he celebrates his victories. The crowd who once cheered Pompey now cheers Caesar not because they're evil but because they genuinely don't know what to think — their world has been remade and they're following whoever seems to be in charge. This is the crowd Antony will understand completely.
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.
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.
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.
wherefore rejoice
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.
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.
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.
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...
Notice that Flavius and Marullus speak in blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter) while the Cobbler speaks in prose. This is Shakespeare's consistent social-register system: educated, upper-class characters speak verse; working-class characters speak prose. Except the cobbler is sharper than the tribunes — his prose runs circles around their verse. Shakespeare is already undermining his own class hierarchy from scene one. The verse-speakers have all the authority and none of the wit; the prose-speaker has no authority and all the wit. This will matter enormously in 3-2, when Brutus (verse/prose, carefully calibrated) addresses the crowd versus Antony (prose that sounds like verse, verse that hits like prose). The question of who gets to speak which way, and what that means, is threaded through the whole play.
May we do so?
You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
may we do so
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.
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.
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.
it is no matter; let no images be hung with caesar’s trophies
The Reckoning
Shakespeare opens not with Caesar but with the people — and immediately shows us that the people are unreliable. They cheered Pompey once; now they cheer his conqueror. Marullus's rage at their ingratitude is genuine and moving. But we are left uneasy: if the crowd is this fickle, what does that mean for whatever comes next?
If this happened today…
Imagine a city's biggest sports team just lost the championship — the beloved coach was fired, the owner is the new hero. Fans who had 'RIP Coach' posts on Instagram six months ago are now wearing the owner's merchandise and lining the streets for a victory parade. Two old-school journalists refuse to cover it, corner some fans outside, and lecture them about loyalty. The fans just shrug and walk away. The journalists file a sharply-worded op-ed and go tear down some sponsored banners.