ACT I.
SCENE I. 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 laboring day without the sign
Of your profession? — Speak, what trade art thou?
FIRST CITIZEN.
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?
SECOND CITIZEN.
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.
SECOND CITIZEN.
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?
SECOND CITIZEN.
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!
SECOND CITIZEN.
Why, sir, cobble you.
FLAVIUS.
Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
