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diff --git a/1520-0.txt b/1520-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5078e00 --- /dev/null +++ b/1520-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4679 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1520 *** + +******************************************************************* +THIS EBOOK WAS ONE OF PROJECT GUTENBERG'S EARLY FILES PRODUCED AT A +TIME WHEN PROOFING METHODS AND TOOLS WERE NOT WELL DEVELOPED. THERE +IS AN IMPROVED EDITION OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY BE VIEWED AS EBOOK +(#1519) at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1519 +******************************************************************* + + + + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + +by William Shakspere + + + + +Persons Represented. + +Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon. +Don John, his bastard brother. +Claudio, a young lord of Florence, favourite of Don Pedro. +Benedick, a young lord of Padua, favourite likewise of Don Pedro. +Leonato, governor of Messina. +Antonio, his brother. +Balthazar, servant to Don Pedro. +Borachio, follower of Don John. +Conrade, follower of Don John. +Dogberry, a city-officer. +Verges, a city-officer. +A Sexton. +A Friar. +A Boy. + +Hero, daughter to Leonato. +Beatrice, niece to Leonato. +Margaret, gentlewoman attending on Hero. +Ursula, gentlewoman attending on Hero. + +Messengers, Watch, and Attendants. + + +SCENE,--Messina. + + + +ACT 1. + +Scene I. Street in Messina. + +[Enter Leonato, Hero, Beatrice, and others, with a Messenger.] + +Leon. +I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this +night to Messina. + +Mess. +He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I +left him. + +Leon. +How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? + +Mess. +But few of any sort, and none of name. + +Leon. +A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full +numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on +a young Florentine, called Claudio. + +Mess. +Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro: +He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age; doing, +in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, +better bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell +you how. + +Leon. +He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. + +Mess. +I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much +joy in him; even so much that joy could not show itself modest +enough without a badge of bitterness. + +Leon. +Did he break out into tears? + +Mess. +In great measure. + +Leon. +A kind overflow of kindness: There are no faces truer than +those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy, +than to joy at weeping! + +Beat. +I pray you, is Signior Montanto returned from the wars or no? + +Mess. +I know none of that name, lady; there was none such in the +army of any sort. + +Leon. +What is he that you ask for, niece? + +Hero. +My cousin means signior Benedick of Padua. + +Mess. +O, he is returned, and as pleasant as ever he was. + +Beat. +He set up his bills here in Messina, and challenged Cupid at +the flight: and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, +subscribed for Cupid and challenged him at the bird-bolt. I pray +you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how +many hath he killed? for indeed I promised to eat all of his +killing. + +Leon. +Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll +be meet with you, I doubt it not. + +Mess. +He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. + +Beat. +You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it: he is a +very valiant trencherman, he hath an excellent stomach. + +Mess. +And a good soldier too, lady. + +Beat. +And a good soldier to a lady:--But what is he to a lord? + +Mess. +A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honourable +virtues. + +Beat. +It is so indeed: he is no less than a stuffed man: but for +the stuffing,--Well, we are all mortal. + +Leon. +You must not, sir, mistake my niece: there is a kind of merry +war betwixt signior Benedick and her: they never meet but there +is a skirmish of wit between them. + +Beat. +Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of +his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed +with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let +him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for +it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable +creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new +sworn brother. + +Mess. +Is it possible? + +Beat. +Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as the fashion +of his hat; it ever changes with the next block. + +Mess. +I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. + +Beat. +No: an he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is +his companion? Is there no young squarer now, that will make a +voyage with him to the devil? + +Mess. +He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. + +Beat. +O Lord! he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner +caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. +God help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it +will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. + +Mess. +I will hold friends with you, lady. + +Beat. +Do, good friend. + +Leon. +You will ne'er run mad, niece. + +Beat. +No, not till a hot January. + +Mess. +Don Pedro is approached. + +[Enter Don Pedro, attended by Balthazar and others, Don John, +Claudio, and Benedick.] + +D. Pedro. +Good signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the +fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. + +Leon. +Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your grace; +for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you +depart from me sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. + +D. Pedro. +You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is your +daughter. + +Leon. +Her mother hath many times told me so. + +Bene. +Were you in doubt that you asked her? + +Leon. +Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child. + +D. Pedro. +You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this what you +are, being a man. Truly the lady fathers herself:--Be happy, +lady! for you are like an honourable father. + +Bene. +If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head +on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. + +Beat. +I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedick; +nobody marks you. + +Bene. +What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? + +Beat. +Is it possible Disdain should die, while she hath such meet +food to feed it as signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must +convert to disdain if you come in her presence. + +Bene. +Then is courtesy a turncoat:--But it is certain I am loved of +all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my +heart that I had not a hard heart: for, truly, I love none. + +Beat. +A dear happiness to women; they would else have been troubled +with a pernicious suitor. I thank God, and my cold blood, I am +of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, +than a man swear he loves me. + +Bene. +God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman +or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face. + +Beat. +Scratching could not make it worse, an 't were such a face as +yours were. + +Bene. +Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. + +Beat. +A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. + +Bene. +I would my horse had the speed of your tongue; and so good a +continuer: But keep your way o' God's name; I have done. + +Beat. +You always end with a jade's trick; I know you of old. + +D. Pedro. +That is the sum of all, Leonato.--Signior Claudio, and signior +Benedick,--my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell +him we shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartly +prays some occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear he is +no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. + +Leon. +If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn.-- +Let me bid you welcome, my lord: being reconciled +to the prince your brother, I owe you all duty. + +D. John. +I thank you. I am not of many words, but I thank you. + +Leon. +Please it your grace lead on? + +D. Pedro. +Your hand, Leonato; we will go together. + +[Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio.] + +Claud. +Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of signior Leonato? + +Bene. +I noted her not: but I looked on her. + +Claud. +Is she not a modest young lady? + +Bene. +Do you question me as an honest man should do, for my simple +true judgment; or would you have me speak after my custom, as +being a professed tyrant to their sex? + +Claud. +No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. +Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, +too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; +only this commendation I can afford her: that were she other +than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she +is, I do not like her. + +Claud. +Thou thinkest I am in sport; I pray thee tell me truly how +thou likest her. + +Bene. +Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? + +Claud. +Can the world buy such a jewel? + +Bene. +Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad +brow? or do you play the flouting Jack; to tell us Cupid is a +good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key +shall a man take you, to go in the song? + +Claud. +In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on. + +Bene. +I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: +there's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, +exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the +last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn +husband; have you? + +Claud. +I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the +contrary, if Hero would be my wife. + +Bene. +Is't come to this, i' faith? Hath not the world one man but +he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a +bachelor of three-score again? Go to, i' faith: an thou wilt +needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and +sigh away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is returned to seek you. + +[Re-enter Don Pedro.] + +D. Pedro. +What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to +Leonato's? + +Bene. +I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. + +D. Pedro. +I charge thee on thy allegiance. + +Bene. +You hear, count Claudio: I can be secret as a dumb man, I +would have you think so; but on my allegiance,--mark you this, on +my allegiance:--He is in love. With who?--now that is your +Grace's part.--Mark how short his answer is:--With Hero, +Leonato's short daughter. + +Claud. +If this were so, so were it uttered. + +Bene. +Like the old tale, my lord: 'it is not so, nor 't was not so; +but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.' + +Claud. +If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be +otherwise. + +D. Pedro. +Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy. + +Claud. +You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. + +D. Pedro. +By my troth I speak my thought. + +Claud. +And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. + +Bene. +And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. + +Claud. +That I love her, I feel. + +D. Pedro. +That she is worthy, I know. + +Bene. +That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she +should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me: +I will die in it at the stake. + +D. Pedro. +Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. + +Claud. +And never could maintain his part but in the force of his +will. + +Bene. +That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, +I likewise give her most humble thanks: but that I will have +a recheat winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible +baldrick, all women shall pardon me: Because, I will not do them +the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust +none; and the fine is (for the which I may go the finer,) I will +live a bachelor. + +D. Pedro. +I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. + +Bene. +With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with +love: prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get +again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's +pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of +blind Cupid. + +D. Pedro. +Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith thou wilt +prove a notable argument. + +Bene. +If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me; and +he that hits me let him be clapped on the shoulder and called +Adam. + +D. Pedro. +Well, as time shall try: +'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.' + +Bene. +The savage bull may; but if ever this sensible Benedick bear +it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead: and +let me be vilely painted; and in such great letters as they write +'Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign, +'Here you may see Benedick the married man.' + +Claud. +If this should ever happen thou wouldst be horn-mad. + +D. Pedro. +Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou +wilt quake for this shortly. + +Bene. +I look for an earthquake too then. + +D. Pedro. +Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime, +good signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's: commend me to him, +and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed, he +hath made great preparation. + +Bene. +I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and +so I commit you-- + +Claud. +To the tuition of God: From my house (if I had it)-- + +D. Pedro. +The sixth of July: Your loving friend, Benedick. + +Bene. +Nay, mock not, mock not: The body of your discourse is +sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly +basted on neither: ere you flout old ends any further, examine +your conscience; and so I leave you. + +[Exit Benedick.] + +Claud. +My liege, your highness now may do me good. + +D. Pedro. +My love is thine to teach; teach it but how, +And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn +Any hard lesson that may do thee good. + +Claud. +Hath Leonato any son, my lord? + +D. Pedro. +No child but Hero, she's his only heir: +Dost thou affect her, Claudio? + +Claud. +O my lord, +When you went onward on this ended action, +I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, +That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand +Than to drive liking to the name of love: +But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts +Have left their places vacant, in their rooms +Come thronging soft and delicate desires, +All prompting me how fair young Hero is, +Saying I lik'd her ere I went to wars. + +D. Pedro. +Thou wilt be like a lover presently, +And tire the hearer with a book of words: +If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it; +And I will break with her; [and with her father, +And thou shalt have her:] Was't not to this end, +That thou begann'st to twist so fine a story? + +Claud. +How sweetly do you minister to love, +That know love's grief by his complexion! +But lest my liking might too sudden seem, +I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. + +D. Pedro. +What need the bridge much broader than the flood? +The fairest grant is the necessity: +Look, what will serve is fit: 't is once, thou lovest; +And I will fit thee with the remedy. +I know we shall have revelling to-night; +I will assume thy part in some disguise, +And tell fair Hero I am Claudio; +And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart, +And take her hearing prisoner with the force +And strong encounter of my amorous tale: +Then, after, to her father will I break; +And the conclusion is, she shall be thine: +In practice let us put it presently. + +[Exeunt.] + + + +Scene II.--A Room in Leonato's House. + +[Enter Leonato and Antonio.] + +Leon. +How now, brother? Where is my cousin, your son? Hath he +provided this music? + +Ant. +He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you +news that you yet dream not of. + +Leon. +Are they good? + +Ant. +As the event stamps them; but they have a good cover, they +show well outward. The prince and count Claudio, walking in a +thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus overheard by +a man of mine: The prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my +niece, your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a +dance; and, if he found her accordant, he meant to take the +present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it. + +Leon. +Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? + +Ant. +A good sharp fellow; I will send for him, and question him +yourself. + +Leon. +No, no; we will hold it as a dream, till it appear itself:--but +I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better +prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and +tell her of it. + +[Several persons cross the stage.] + +Cousins, you know what you have to do.--O, I cry you mercy, +friend: go you with me, and I will use your skill:-- +Good cousins, have a care this busy time. + +[Exeunt.] + + + +Scene III.--Another room in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Don John and Conrade.] + +Con. +What the good year, my lord! why are you thus out of measure +sad? + +D. John. +There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore +the sadness is without limit. + +Con. +You should hear reason. + +D. John. +And when I have heard it, what blessing bringeth it? + +Con. +If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. + +D. John. +I wonder that thou, being (as thou say'st thou art), born +under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral medicine to a +mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when +I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have +stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, +and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no +man in his humour. + +Con. +Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, till you may +do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against +your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace; where +it is impossible you should take root, but by the fair +weather that you make yourself: it is needful that you frame the +season for your own harvest. + +D. John. +had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace; +and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all than to +fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this, though I cannot +be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but +I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle, and +enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in +my cage: If I had my mouth I would bite; if I had my liberty, I +would do my liking: in the meantime, let me be that I am, and +seek not to alter me. + +Con. +Can you make no use of your discontent? + +D. John. +I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? +What news, Borachio? + +[Enter Borachio.] + +Bora. +I came yonder from a great supper; the prince, your brother, is +royally entertained by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence +of an intended marriage. + +D. John. +Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? +What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? + +Bora. +Marry, it is your brother's right hand. + +D. John. +Who? the most exquisite Claudio? + +Bora. +Even he. + +D. John. +A proper squire! And who? and who? which way looks he? + +Bora. +Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. + +D. John. +A very forward March-chick! How came you to this? + +Bora. +Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty +room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad +conference: I whipt me behind the arras; and there heard it +agreed upon, that the prince should woo Hero for himself, +and having obtained her give her to Count Claudio. + +D. John. +Come, come, let us thither; this may prove food to my +displeasure: that young start-up hath all the glory of my +overthrow; if I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way: +You are both sure, and will assist me? + +Con. +To the death, my lord. + +D. John. +Let us to the great supper: their cheer is the greater that +I am subdued: 'Would the cook were of my mind! Shall we go prove +what's to be done? + +Bora. +We'll wait upon your lordship. + +[Exeunt.] + + + + +ACT 2. + +Scene I.--A hall in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, and others.] + +Leon. +Was not Count John here at supper? + +Ant. +I saw him not. + +Beat. +How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am +heart-burned an hour after. + +Hero. +He is of a very melancholy disposition. + +Beat. +He were an excellent man that were made just in the mid-way +between him and Benedick; the one is too like an image, and says +nothing; and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore +tattling. + +Leon. +Then half signior Benedick's tongue in count John's mouth, +and half count John's melancholy in signior Benedick's face,-- + +Beat. +With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in +his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world,-- if he +could get her good will. + +Leon. +By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if +thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. + +Ant. +In faith, she is too curst. + +Beat. +Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God's sending +that way: for it is said, 'God sends a curst cow short horns;' +but to a cow too curst he sends none. + +Leon. +So, by being too curst God will send you no horns. + +Beat. +Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am +at him upon my knees every morning and evening: Lord! I could not +endure a husband with a beard on his face: I had rather lie +inwoollen! + +Leon. +You may light upon a husband that hath no beard. + +Beat. +What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel and make +him my waiting gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a +youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man: and he that +is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a +man I am not for him: Therefore I will even take sixpence in +earnest of the bearward, and lead his apes into hell. + +Leon. +Well then, go you into hell? + +Beat. +No; but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an +old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say, 'Get you to heaven, +Beatrice, get you to heaven; here's no place for you maids:' So +deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter: for the heavens, +he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry +as the day is long. + +Ant. +Well, niece, [to Hero] I trust you will be ruled by your +father. + +Beat. +Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make courtesy, and say, +'Father, as it please you:' but yet for all that, cousin, let him +be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say, +'Father, as it please me.' + +Leon. +Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. + +Beat. +Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would +it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant +dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? +No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I +hold it a sin to match in my kindred. + +Leon. +Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince do solicit +you in that kind, you know your answer. + +Beat. +The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed +in good time: if the prince be too important, tell him there is +measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For, hear +me, Hero: Wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a +measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like +a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, +mannerly-modest, as a measure full of state and ancientry; and +then comes repentance, and, with his bad legs falls into the +cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. + +Leon. +Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. + +Beat. +have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. + +Leon. +The revellers are entering, brother. Make good room. + +[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar; +Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others, masked.] + +D. Pedro. +Lady, will you walk about with your friend? + +Hero. +So you walk softly, and look sweetly and say nothing, +I am yours for the walk; and, especially, when I walk away. + +D. Pedro. +With me in your company? + +Hero. +I may say so when I please. + +D. Pedro. +And when please you to say so? + +Hero. +When I like your favour; for God defend the lute should be +like the case! + +D. Pedro. +My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. + +Hero. +Why, then your visor should be thatch'd. + +D. Pedro. +Speak low if you speak love. + +[Takes her aside.] + +Balth. +Well, I would you did like me. + +Marg. +So would not I, for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities. + +Balth. +Which is one? + +Marg. +I say my prayers aloud. + +Balth. +I love you the better; the hearers may cry, Amen. + +Marg. +God match me with a good dancer! + +Balth. +Amen. + +Marg. +And God keep him out of my sight, when the dance is done! +--Answer, clerk. + +Balth. +No more words; the clerk is answered. + +Urs. +I know you well enough. You are signior Antonio. + +Ant. +At a word, I am not. + +Urs. +I know you by the waggling of your head. + +Ant. +To tell you true, I counterfeit him. + +Urs. +You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were the very +man. Here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he. + +Ant. +At a word, I am not. + +Urs. +Come, come; do you think I do not know you by your excellent +wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he: graces +will appear, and there's an end. + +Beat. +Will you not tell me who told you so? + +Bene. +No, you shall pardon me. + +Beat. +Nor will you not tell me who you are? + +Bene. +Not now. + +Beat. +That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the +'Hundred merry Tales;'--Well, this was signior Benedick that said +so. + +Bene. +What's he? + +Beat. +I am sure you know him well enough. + +Bene. +Not I, believe me. + +Beat. +Did he never make you laugh? + +Bene. +I pray you, what is he? + +Beat. +Why, he is the Prince's jester: a very dull fool; only his +gift is in devising impossible slanders; none but libertines +delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit but in +his villany; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then +they laugh at him and beat him: I am sure he is in the fleet; +I would he had boarded me. + +Bene. +When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. + +Beat. +Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, +peradventure, not marked, or not laughed at, strikes him into +melancholy; and then there's a partridge' wing saved, for the +fool will eat no supper that night. [Music within.] We must +follow the leaders. + +Bene. +In every good thing. + +Beat. +Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next +turning. + +[Dance. Then exeunt all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio]. + +D. John. +Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her +father to break with him about it: The ladies follow her, and but +one visor remains. + +Bora. +And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing. + +D. John. +Are you not signior Benedick? + +Claud. +You know me well; I am he. + +D. John. +Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is +enamour'd on Hero; I pray you dissuade him from her, she is no +equal for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it. + +Claud. +How know you he loves her? + +D. John. +I heard him swear his affection. + +Bora. +So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night. + +D. John. +Come, let us to the banquet. + +[Exeunt Don John and Borachio.] + +Claud. +Thus answer I in name of Benedick, +But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. +'T is certain so;--the prince woos for himself. +Friendship is constant in all other things, +Save in the office and affairs of love: +Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; +Let every eye negociate for itself, +And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch, +Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. +This is an accident of hourly proof +Which I mistrusted not: Farewell, therefore, Hero! + +[Re-enter Benedick.] + +Bene. +Count Claudio? + +Claud. +Yea, the same. + +Bene. +Come, will you go with me? + +Claud. +Whither? + +Bene. +Even to the next willow, about your own business, count. What +fashion will you wear the garland of? About your neck, like an +usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? +You must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. + +Claud. +I wish him joy of her. + +Bene. +Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so they sell +bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you +thus? + +Claud. +I pray you, leave me. + +Bene. +Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 't was the boy that +stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. + +Claud. +If it will not be, I'll leave you. + +[Exit.] + +Bene. +Alas! poor hurt fowl! Now will he creep into sedges. But +that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The +prince's fool!--Ha, it may be I go under that title because I am +merry.--Yea; but so; I am apt to do myself wrong: I am not so +reputed: it is the base though bitter disposition of Beatrice, +that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out. Well, +I'll be revenged as I may. + +[Re-enter Don Pedro.] + +D. Pedro. +Now, signior, where's the count; Did you see him? + +Bene. +Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. I found +him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren; I told him, and I +think I told him true, that your grace had got the will of +this young lady; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree, +either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him +a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. + +D. Pedro. +To be whipped! What's his fault? + +Bene. +The flat transgression of a schoolboy; who, being overjoy'd with +finding a bird's nest shows it his companion, and he steals it. + +D. Pedro. +Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? the transgression is +in the stealer. + +Bene. +Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the +garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself; and the +rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen +his bird's nest. + +D. Pedro. +I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. + +Bene. +If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say +honestly. + +D. Pedro. +The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman that +danced with her told her she is much wrong'd by you. + +Bene. +O, she misused me past the endurance of a block: an oak, but +with one green leaf on it, would have answered her; my very visor +began to assume life and scold with her: She told me, not +thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince's jester, and +that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest, with +such impossible conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, +with a whole army shooting at me: She speaks poniards, and every +word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, +there were no living near her; she would infect to the North +Star. I would not marry her though she were endowed with all +that Adam had left him before he transgressed: she would have made +Hercules have turned spit; yea, and have cleft his club to make +the fire too. Come, talk not of her: you shall find her the +infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would +conjure her; for, certainly, while she is here, a man may live as +quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose +because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, +and perturbation follows her. + +[Re-enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato, and Hero.] + +D. Pedro. +Look, here she comes. + +Bene. +Will your grace command me any service to the world's end? I +will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you +can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from +the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's +foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any +embassage to the Pygmies,--rather than hold three words' +conference with this harpy: You have no employment for me? + +D. Pedro. +None, but to desire your good company. + +Bene. +O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my Lady +Tongue. + +[Exit.] + +D. Pedro. +Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of signior Benedick. + +Beat. +Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I gave him use for +it--a double heart for a single one: marry, once before he won +it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I +have lost it. + +D. Pedro. +You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. + +Beat. +So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove +the mother of fools. I have brought count Claudio, whom you sent +me to seek. + +D. Pedro. +Why, how now, count? wherefore are you sad? + +Claud. +Not sad, my lord. + +D. Pedro. +How then? sick? + +Claud. +Neither, my lord. + +Beat. +The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well: but +civil, count; civil as an orange, and something of that jealous +complexion. + +D. Pedro. +I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll +be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I +have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with +her father, and his good will obtained: name the day of marriage, +and God give thee joy! + +Leon. +Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes; his +grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it! + +Beat. +Speak, Count, 'tis your cue. + +Claud. +Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little +happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am +yours: I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange. + +Beat. +Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, +and let not him speak neither. + +D. Pedro. +In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. + +Beat. +Yea, my lord, I thank it; poor fool, it keeps on the windy +side of care:--My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her +heart. + +Claud. +And so she doth, cousin. + +Beat. +Good Lord, for alliance!--Thus goes every one to the world but +I, and I am sunburned; I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh-ho +for a husband! + +D. Pedro. +Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. + +Beat. +I would rather have one of your father's getting: Hath your +grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent +husbands, if a maid could come by them. + +D. Pedro. +Will you have me, lady? + +Beat. +No, my lord, unless I might have another for working-days; +your grace is too costly to wear every day: But, I beseech your +grace pardon me. I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter. + +D. Pedro. +Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes +you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. + +Beat. +No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star +danced, and under that was I born.--Cousins, God give you joy! + +Leon. +Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? + +Beat. +I cry you mercy, uncle.--By your grace's pardon. + +[Exit Beatrice.] + +D. Pedro. +By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. + +Leon. +There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she +is never sad, but when she sleeps; and not ever sad then; for I +have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness, +and waked herself with laughing. + +D. Pedro. +She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. + +Leon. +O, by no means; she mocks all her wooers out of suit. + +D. Pedro. +She were an excellent wife for Benedick. + +Leon. +O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married they would +talk themselves mad. + +D. Pedro. +Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? + +Claud. +To-morrow, my lord: Time goes on crutches till love have all +his rites. + +Leon. +Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night; +and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. + +D. Pedro. +Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing;I warrant thee, +Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; +I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours; which +is, to bring signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a +mountain of affection, the one with the other. I would fain have +it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will +but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. + +Leon. +My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' +watchings. + +Claud. +And I, my lord. + +D. Pedro. +And you too, gentle Hero? + +Hero. +I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a +good husband. + +D. Pedro. +And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: +thus far can I praise him: he is of a noble strain, of approved +valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour +your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick:--and I, +with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in +despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall +in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer +an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. +Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. + +[Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene II.--Another Room in Leonato's House. + +[Enter Don John and Borachio.] + +D. John. +It is so; the count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. + +Bora. +Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. + +D. John. +Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: +I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his +affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this +marriage? + +Bora. +Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no dishonesty +shall appear in me. + +D. John. +Show me briefly how. + +Bora. +I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in +the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. + +D. John. +I remember. + +Bora. +I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her +to look out at her lady's chamber-window. + +D. John. +What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage? + +Bora. +The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the +prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged +his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do +you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as +Hero. + +D. John. +What proof shall I make of that? + +Bora. +Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo +Hero, and kill Leonato: look you for any other issue? + +D. John. +Only to despite them, I will endeavour anything. + +Bora. +Go then, find me a meet hour to draw don Pedro and the count +Claudio, alone: tell them that you know that Hero loves me; +intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as--in a +love of your brother's honour, who hath made this match; and his +friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the +semblance of a maid,--that you have discovered thus. They will +scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances; which +shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; +hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudio; and +bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding: +for, in the mean time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero +shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of +Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance, and all +the preparation overthrown. + +D. John. +Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in +practice: Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a +thousand ducats. + +Bora. +Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not +shame me. + +D. John. +I will presently go learn their day of marriage. + +[Exeunt.] + + + +Scene III.--Leonato's Garden. + +[Enter Benedick and a Boy.] + +Bene. +Boy! + +Boy. +Signior. + +Bene. +In my chamber-window lies a book; bring it hither to me in +the orchard. + +Boy. +I am here already, sir. + +Bene. +I know that;--but I would have thee hence, and here again. +[Exit Boy.]--I do much wonder that one man seeing how much +another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, +will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, +become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love: And +such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with +him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor +and the pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile +afoot to see a good armour: and now will he lie ten nights awake, +carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, +and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is +he turned orthographer; his words are a very fantastical banquet, +just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with +these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn but +love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, +till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a +fool. One woman is fair; yet I am well: another is wise; yet I am +well: another virtuous; yet I am well: but till all graces be in +one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall +be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never +cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not +near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an +excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it +please God. Ha, the prince and monsieur Love! I will hide me in +the arbour. + +[Withdraws.] + +[Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio.] + +D. Pedro. +Come, shall we hear this music? + +Claud. +Yea, my good lord:--How still the evening is, +As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! + +D. Pedro. +See you where Benedick hath hid himself? + +Claud. +O, very well, my lord: the music ended, +We'll fit the kid fox with a pennyworth. + +[Enter Balthazar, with music.] + +D. Pedro. +Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. + +Balth. +O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice +To slander music any more than once. + +D. Pedro. +It is the witness still of excellency, +To put a strange face on his own perfection:-- +I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. + +Balth. +Because you talk of wooing, I will sing: +Since many a wooer doth commence his suit +To her he thinks not worthy; yet he woos; +Yet will he swear, he loves. + +D. Pedro. +Nay, pray thee, come: +Or if thou wilt hold longer argument +Do it in notes. + +Balth. +Note this before my notes, +There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. + +D. Pedro. +Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks; +Note, notes, forsooth, and noting! + +[Music.] + +Bene. +Now, 'Divine air!' now is his soul ravished!--Is it not +strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? +--Well, a horn for my money, when all's done. + +[Balthazar sings.] + + I. + + Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more; + Men were deceivers ever; + One foot in sea, and one on shore; + To one thing constant never: + Then sigh not so, + But let them go, + And be you blithe and bonny; + Converting all your sounds of woe + Into, Hey nonny, nonny. + + + II. + + Sing no more ditties, sing no mo, + Of dumps so dull and heavy; + The fraud of men was ever so, + Since summer first was leavy. + Then sigh not so, &c. + + + +D. Pedro. +By my troth, a good song. + +Balth. +And an ill singer, my lord. + +D. Pedro. +Ha? no; no, faith; thou sing'st well enough for a shift. + +Bene. +[Aside.] An he had been a dog that should have howled thus +they would have hanged him: and I pray God, his bad voice bode no +mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what +plague could have come after it. + +D. Pedro. +Yea, marry; [to Claudio.]--Dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray +thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would +have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window. + +Balth. +The best I can, my lord. + +D. Pedro. +Do so: farewell. [Exeunt Balthazar.] Come hither, Leonato: What +was it you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in +love with signior Benedick? + +Claud. +O, ay:-Stalk on, stalk on: the fowl sits. [Aside to Pedro] I did +never think that lady would have loved any man. + +Leon. +No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote +on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours +seemed ever to abhor. + +Bene. +Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? [Aside.] + +Leon. +By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but +that she loves him with an enraged affection,--it is past the +infinite of thought. + +D. Pedro. +May be, she doth but counterfeit. + +Claud. +'Faith, like enough. + +Leon. +O God! counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion +came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it. + +D. Pedro. +Why, what effects of passion shows she? + +Claud. +Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. [Aside.] + +Leon. +What effects, my lord! She will sit you,--You heard my +daughter tell you how. + +Claud. +She did, indeed. + +D. Pedro. +How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her +spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. + +Leon. +I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against +Benedick. + +Bene. +[Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded +fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such +reverence. + +Claud. +He hath ta'en the infection; Hold it up. [Aside.] + +D. Pedro. +Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? + +Leon. +No; and swears she never will: that's her torment. + +Claud. +'T is true, indeed; so your daughter says: 'Shall I,' says +she, 'that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him +that I love him?' + +Leon. +This says she now when she is beginning to write to him: for +she'll be up twenty times a night: and there will she sit in her +smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper:--my daughter tells us +all. + +Claud. +Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest +your daughter told us of. + +Leon. +O!--When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found +Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet? + +Claud. +That. + +Leon. +O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at +herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she +knew would flout her: 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own +spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I +love him, I should.' + +Claud. +Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her +heart, tears her hair, prays, curses: 'O sweet Benedick! God +give me patience!' + +Leon. +She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so +much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard she will +do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true. + +D. Pedro. +It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she +will not discover it. + +Claud. +To what end? He would make but a sport of it, and torment the +poor lady worse. + +D. Pedro. +An he should, it were an alms to hang him: She's an +excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. + +Claud. +And she is exceeding wise. + +D. Pedro. +In everything, but in loving Benedick. + +Leon. +O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, +we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am +sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her +guardian. + +D. Pedro. +I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have +daff'd all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you +tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. + +Leon. +Were it good, think you? + +Claud. +Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die +if he love her not; and she will die ere she make her love known: +and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one +breath of her accustomed crossness. + +D. Pedro. +She doth well: if she should make tender of her love 't is +very possible he'll scorn it: for the man, as you know all, hath +a contemptible spirit. + +Claud. +He is a very proper man. + +D. Pedro. +He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. + +Claud. +'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. + +D. Pedro. +He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are like wit. + +Leon. +And I take him to be valiant. + +D. Pedro. +As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you +may see he is wise; for either he avoids them with great +discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear. + +Leon. +If he do fear God he must necessarily keep peace; if he +break the peace he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and +trembling. + +D. Pedro. +And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it +seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am +sorry for your niece: Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of +her love? + +Claud. +Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. + +Leon. +Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first. + +D. Pedro. +Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter. Let it +cool the while. I love Benedick well: and I could wish he would +modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy to have +so good a lady. + +Leon. +My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. + +Claud. +If he dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. +[Aside.] + +D. Pedro. +Let there be the same net spread for her: and that must your +daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they +hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter; +that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb +show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Aside.] + +[Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato.] + +[Benedick advances from the arbour.] + +Bene. +This can be no trick: The conference was sadly borne.--They +have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; +it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it +must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear +myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say +too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.--I +did never think to marry--I must not seem proud:--Happy are they +that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They +say the lady is fair; 't is a truth, I can bear them witness: and +virtuous--'t is so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving +me:--By my troth, it is no addition to her wit;--nor no great +argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her.-- +I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on +me, because I have railed so long against marriage: But doth not +the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he +cannot endure in his age: Shall quips, and sentences, and these +paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his +humour? No: The world must be peopled. When I said I would die +a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.-- +Here comes Beatrice: By this day, she's a fair lady: I do spy +some marks of love in her. + +[Enter Beatrice.] + +Beat. +Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. + +Bene. +Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. + +Beat. +I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to +thank me; if it had been painful I would not have come. + +Bene. +You take pleasure, then, in the message? + +Beat. +Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and +choke a daw withal:--You have no stomach, signior; fare you well. + +[Exit.] + +Bene. +Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner'-- +there's a double meaning in that. 'I took no more pains for +those thanks, than you took pains to thank me'--that's as much +as to say Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks:-- +If I do not take pity of her I am a villain; if I do not love +her I am a Jew: I will go get her picture. + +[Exit.] + + + +ACT III. + +Scene I.--Leonardo's Garden. + +[Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula.] + +Hero. +Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour; +There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice +Proposing with the Prince and Claudio: +Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula +Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse +Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us; +And bid her steal into the pleached bower, +Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, +Forbid the sun to enter;--like favourites, +Made proud by princes, that advance their pride +Against that power that bred it:--there will she hide her +To listen our propose: This is thy office, +Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. + +Marg. +I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. + +[Exit.] + +Hero. +Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, +As we do trace this alley up and down, +Our talk must only be of Benedick: +When I do name him, let it be thy part +To praise him more than ever man did merit: +My talk to thee must be, how Benedick +Is sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter +Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, +That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin; + +[Enter Beatrice, behind.] + +For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs +Close by the ground to hear our conference. + +Urs. +The pleasantest angling is to see the fish +Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, +And greedily devour the treacherous bait: +So angle we for Beatrice; who even now +Is couched in the woodbine coverture: +Fear you not my part of the dialogue. + +Hero. +Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing +Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.-- + +[They advance to the bower.] + +No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful. +I know her spirits are as coy and wild +As haggards of the rock. + +Urs. +But are you sure, +That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? + +Hero. +So says the prince, and my new-trothed lord. + +Urs. +And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? + +Hero. +They did entreat me to acquaint her of it: +But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, +To wish him wrestle with affection, +And never to let Beatrice know of it. + +Urs. +Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman +Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, +As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? + +Hero. +O God of love! I know he doth deserve +As much as may be yielded to a man: +But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart +Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. +Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, +Misprizing what they look on; and her wit +Values itself so highly, that to her +All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, +Nor take no shape nor project of affection, +She is so self-endeared. + +Urs. +Sure, I think so; +And therefore, certainly, it were not good +She knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it. + +Hero. +Why, you speak truth: I never yet saw man, +How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, +But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd, +She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; +If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic, +Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed; +If low, an agate very vilely cut; +If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; +If silent, why, a block moved with none. +So turns she every man the wrong side out; +And never gives to truth and virtue that +Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. + +Urs. +Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. + +Hero. +No, not; to be so odd, and from all fashions, +As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: +But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, +She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me +Out of myself, press me to death with wit. +Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, +Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: +It were a better death than die with mocks; +Which is as bad as die with tickling. + +Urs. +Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say. + +Hero. +No; rather I will go to Benedick, +And counsel him to fight against his passion: +And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders +To stain my cousin with: One doth not know +How much an ill word may empoison liking. + +Urs. +O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. +She cannot be so much without true judgment, +(Having so swift and excellent a wit +As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse +So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick. + +Hero. +He is the only man of Italy, +Always excepted my dear Claudio. + +Urs. +I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, +Speaking my fancy; signior Benedick, +For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, +Goes foremost in report through Italy. + +Hero. +Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. + +Urs. +His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. +When are you married, madam? + +Hero. +Why, every day;--to-morrow: Come, go in; +I'll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel, +Which is the best to furnish me to morrow. + +Urs. +She's ta'en, I warrant you; we have caught her, madam. + +Hero. +If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: +Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. + +[Exeunt Hero and Ursula.] + +[Beatrice advances.] + +Beat. +What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? +Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? +Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! +No glory lives behind the back of such. +And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee; +Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; +If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee +To bind our loves up in a holy band: +For others say thou dost deserve; and I +Believe it better than reportingly. + +[Exit.] + + + +Scene II.--A Room in Leonato's House. + +[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.] + +D. Pedro. +I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go +I toward Arragon. + +Claud. +I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. + +D. Pedro. +Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your +marriage, as to show a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear +it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from +the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; +he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the little +hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart as sound as a +bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks +his tongue speaks. + +Bene. +Gallants, I am not as I have been. + +Leon. +So say I; methinks you are sadder. + +Claud. +I hope he be in love. + +D. Pedro. +Hang him, truant; there's no true drop of blood in him, to be +truly touch'd with love: if he be sad, he wants money. + +Bene. +I have the tooth-ach. + +D. Pedro. +Draw it. + +Bene. +Hang it! + +Claud. +You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. + +D. Pedro. +What? sigh for the tooth-ach? + +Leon. +Where is but a humour, or a worm! + +Bene. +Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + +Claud. +Yet, say I, he is in love. + +D. Pedro. +There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy +that he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day; a +Frenchman to-morrow; [or in the shape of two countries at once, +as, a German from the waist downward, all slops; and a Spaniard +from the hip upward, no doublet:] Unless he have a fancy to this +foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you +would have it appear he is. + +Claud. +If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing +old signs: he brushes his hat o' mornings: What should that bode? + +D. Pedro. +Hath any man seen him at the barber's? + +Claud. +No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the +old ornament of his cheek hath already stuff'd tennis-balls. + +Leon. +Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard. + +D. Pedro. +Nay, he rubs himself with civet: Can you smell him out by +that? + +Claud. +That's as much as to say, The sweet youth's in love. + +D. Pedro. +The greatest note of it is his melancholy. + +Claud. +And when was he wont to wash his face? + +D. Pedro. +Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say +of him. + +Claud. +Nay, but his jesting spirit;, which is now crept into a +lutestring, and now governed by stops. + +D. Pedro. +Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: Conclude he is in love. + +Claud. +Nay, but I know who loves him. + +D. Pedro. +That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not. + +Claud. +Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for +him. + +D. Pedro. +She shall be buried with her face upwards. + +Bene. +Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach.--Old signior, walk +aside with me; I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak +to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear. + +[Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.] + +D. Pedro. +For my life, to break with him about Beatrice! + +Claud. +'T is even so: Hero and Margaret have by this played their +parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one +another when they meet. + +[Enter Don John.] + +D. John. +My lord and brother, God save you. + +D. Pedro. +Good den, brother. + +D. John. +If your leisure served, I would speak with you. + +D. Pedro. +In private? + +D. John. +If it please you;--yet count Claudio may hear; for what I +would speak of concerns him. + +D. Pedro. +What's the matter? + +D. John. +Means your lordship to be married to-morrow? [to Claudio] + +D. Pedro. +You know he does. + +D. John. +I know not that, when he knows what I know. + +Claud. +If there be any impediment, I pray you, discover it. + +D. John. +You may think I love you not; let that appear hereafter, and +aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I +think, he holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp to +effect your ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill spent, and labour +ill bestowed! + +D. Pedro. +Why, what's the matter? + +D. John. +I came hither to tell you: and, circumstances shortened (for +she has been too long a talking of,) the lady is disloyal. + +Claud. +Who? Hero? + +D. John. +Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. + +Claud. +Disloyal? + +D. John. +The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say +she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her +to. Wonder not till further warrant: go but with me to-night, +you shall see her chamber-window entered; even the night before +her wedding day: if you love her then, to-morrow wed her; but +it would better fit your honour to change your mind. + +Claud. +May this be so? + +D. Pedro. +I will not think it. + +D. John. +If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you +know: if you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you +have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly. + +Claud. +If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her +to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I +shame her. + +D. Pedro. +And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with +thee to disgrace her. + +D. John. +I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses: +bear it coldly but till night, and let the issue show itself. + +D. Pedro. +O day untowardly turned! + +Claud. +O mischief strangely thwarting! + +D. John. +O plague right well prevented! +So will you say when you have seen the sequel. + +[Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene III.--A Street. + +[Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch.] + +Dogb. +Are you good men and true? + +Verg. +Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, +body and soul. + +Dogb. +Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should +have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince's watch. + +Verg. +Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. + +Dogb. +First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? + +1. Watch. +Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for they can write +and read. + +Dogb. +Come hither, neighbour Seacoal: God hath blessed you with a +good name: to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but +to write and read comes by nature. + +2. Watch. +Both which, Master Constable,-- + +Dogb. +You have; I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your +favour, sir, why, give God thanks and make no boast of it; and +for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no +need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most +senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore +bear you the lantern. This is your charge: You shall comprehend +all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's +name. + +2. Watch. +How if a will not stand? + +Dogb. +Why then, take no note of him, but let him go; and presently +call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of +a knave. + +Verg. +If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the +prince's subjects. + +Dogb. +True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's +subjects:--You shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for +the watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable and not to be +endured. + +2. Watch. +We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to +a watch. + +Dogb. +Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman; for I +cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that +your bills be not stolen:--Well, you are to call at all the +ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. + +2. Watch. +How if they will not? + +Dogb. +Why then, let them alone till they are sober; if they make you +not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you +took them for. + +2. Watch. +Well, sir. + +Dogb. +If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your +office, to be no true man; and, for such kind of men, the less +you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. + +2. Watch. +If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on +him? + +Dogb. +Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they that touch +pitch will be defiled: The most peaceable way for you, if you do +take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and steal +out of your company. + +Verg. +You have been always called a merciful man, partner. + +Dogb. +Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; much more a man who +hath any honesty in him. + +Verg. +If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the +nurse, and bid her still it. + +2. Watch. +How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? + +Dogb. +Why then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with +crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will +never answer a calf when he bleats. + +Verg. +'T is very true. + +Dogb. +This is the end of the charge. You, constable, are to present +the prince's own person; if you meet the prince in the night, +you may stay him. + +Verg. +Nay, by'r lady, that, I think, a cannot. + +Dogb. +Five shillings to one on't, with any man that knows the +statutes, he may stay him! marry, not without the prince be +willing: for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man; and it +is an offence to stay a man against his will. + +Verg. +By'r lady, I think it be so. + +Dogb. +Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night an there be any matter +of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows' counsels and +your own, and good night.--Come, neighbour. + +2. Watch. +Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here +upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed. + +Dogb. +One word more, honest neighbours: I pray you, watch about +signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there to-morrow, +there is a great coil to-night: Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech +you. + +[Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.] + +[Enter Borachio and Conrade.] + +Bora. +What! Conrade,-- + +Watch. +Peace! stir not. [Aside.] + +Bora. +Conrade, I say! + +Con. +Here, man, I am at thy elbow. + +Bora. +Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow. + +Con. +I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy +tale. + +Bora. +Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles +rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. + +Watch. +[aside.] Some treason, masters; yet stand close. + +Bora. +Therefore know, I have earned of don John a thousand ducats. + +Con. +Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? + +Bora. +Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were possible any villany +should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, +poor ones may make what price they will. + +Con. +I wonder at it. + +Bora. +That shows thou art unconfirmed: Thou knowest, that the +fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. + +Con. +Yes, it is apparel. + +Bora. +I mean, the fashion. + +Con. +Yes, the fashion is the fashion. + +Bora. +Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. But seest thou +not what a deformed thief this fashion is? + +Watch. +I know that Deformed; a has been a vile thief +this seven year; a goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember +his name. + +Bora. +Didst thou not hear somebody? + +Con. +No; 't was the vane on the house. + +Bora. +Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? +how giddily he turns about all the hot-bloods, between fourteen +and five-and-thirty? sometime, fashioning them like Pharaoh's +soldiers in the reechy painting; sometime, like god Bel's priests +in the old church window; sometime, like the shaven Hercules in +the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as +massy as his club? + +Con. +All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more +apparel than the man: But art not thou thyself giddy with the +fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling +me of the fashion? + +Bora. +Not so neither: but know, that I have to-night wooed Margaret, +the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me +out at her mistress' chamber-window, bids me a thousand times +good night,--I tell this tale vilely:--I should first tell thee +how +the prince, Claudio, and my master, planted, and placed, and +possessed by my master don John, saw afar off in the orchard this +amiable encounter. + +Con. +And thought they Margaret was Hero? + +Bora. +Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but the devil my +master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which +first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive +them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander +that don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would +meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and +there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw +o'er-night and send her home again without a husband. + +1 Watch. +We charge you in the prince's name, stand. + +2 Watch. +Call up the right master constable: we have here recovered the +most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the +commonwealth. + +1 Watch. +And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, a wears a +lock. + +Con. +Masters, masters. + +2 Watch. +You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. + +Con. +Masters,-- + +1 Watch. +Never speak; we charge you, let us obey you to go with +us. + +Bora. +We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of +these men's bills. + +Con. +A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you. + + + +Scene IV.--A Room in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Ursula.] + +Hero. +Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. + +Urs. +I will, lady. + +Hero. +And bid her come hither. + +Urs. +Well. + +[Exit Ursula.] + +Marg. +Troth, I think your other rebato were better. + +Hero. +No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. + +Marg. +By my troth, it's not so good; and I warrant your cousin will +say so. + +Hero. +My cousin's a fool, and thou art another; I'll wear none but +this. + +Marg. +I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a +thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion, i' faith. +I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so. + +Hero. +O, that exceeds, they say. + +Marg. +By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours: +Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls +down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with +a blueish tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent +fashion, yours is worth ten on't. + +Hero. +God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy! + +Marg. +'T will be heavier soon, by the weight of a man. + +Hero. +Fie upon thee! art not ashamed? + +Marg. +Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage +honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without +marriage? I think, you would have me say,--saving your +reverence,--'a husband:' an bad thinking do not wrest true +speaking, I'll offend nobody: Is there any harm in, 'the +heavier for a husband'? None, I think, an it be the right +husband, and the right wife; otherwise 't is light, and not +heavy: Ask my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes. + +[Enter Beatrice.] + +Hero. +Good morrow, coz. + +Beat. +Good morrow, sweet Hero. + +Hero. +Why, how now? do you speak in the sick tune? + +Beat. +I am out of all other tune, methinks. + +Marg. +Clap's into--'Light o' love;' that goes without a burden; do +you sing it, and I'll dance it. + +Beat. +Yea, 'Light o' love,' with your heels!--then, if your husband +have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns. + +Marg. +O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. + +Beat. +'T is almost five o'clock, cousin; 't is time you were ready. +By my troth, I am exceeding ill: hey-ho! + +Marg. +For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? + +Beat. +For the letter that begins them all, H. + +Marg. +Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by +the star. + +Beat. +What means the fool, trow? + +Marg. +Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire! + +Hero. +These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent +perfume. + +Beat. +I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. + +Marg. +A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold. + +Beat. +O, God help me! God help me! how long have you profess'd +apprehension? + +Marg. +Ever since you left it: doth not my wit become me rarely? + +Beat. +It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap.--By my +troth, I am sick. + +Marg. +Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus and lay it +to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm. + +Hero. +There thou prick'st her with a thistle. + +Beat. +Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this +Benedictus. + +Marg. +Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain +holy-thistle. You may think, perchance, that I think you are +in love: nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I +list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot +think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in +love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: +yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he +swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, +he eats his meat without grudging: and how you may be converted, +I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do. + +Beat. +What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? + +Marg. +Not a false gallop. + +[Re-enter Ursula.] + +Urs. +Madam, withdraw; the prince, the count, signior Benedick, Don +John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to +church. + +Hero. +Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. + +[Exeunt.] + + + +Scene V.--Another Room in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.] + +Leon. +What would you with me, honest neighbour? + +Dogb. +Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns +you nearly. + +Leon. +Brief, I pray you; for, you see, 't is a busy time with me. + +Dogb. +Marry, this it is, sir. + +Verg. +Yes, in truth it is, sir. + +Leon. +What is it, my good friends? + +Dogb. +Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter: an old +man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would +desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his +brows. + +Verg. +Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an +old man, and no honester than I. + +Dogb. +Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges. + +Leon. +Neighbours, you are tedious. + +Dogb. +It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's +officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as +a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. + +Leon. +All thy tediousness on me! ah? + +Dogb. +Yea, an't were a thousand times more than 't is; for I hear as +good exclamation on your worship, as of any man in the city; and +though I be but a poor man I am glad to hear it. + +Verg. +And so am I. + +Leon. +I would fain know what you have to say. + +Verg. +Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's +presence, have ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in +Messina. + +Dogb. +A good old man, sir; he will be talking; as they say, When +the age is in, the wit is out; God help us! it is a world to +see!--Well said, i' faith, neighbour Verges:--well, God's a good +man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind:--An honest +soul, i' faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but +God is to be worshipped: All men are not alike; alas, good +neighbour! + +Leon. +Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. + +Dogb. +Gifts, that God gives. + +Leon. +I must leave you. + +Dogb. +One word, sir: our watch, sir, have, indeed, comprehended two +aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined +before your worship. + +Leon. +Take their examination yourself, and bring it to me; I am now in +great haste, as it may appear unto you. + +Dogb. +It shall be suffigance. + +Leon. +Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. + +[Enter a Messenger.] + +Mess. +My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her +husband. + +Leon. +I'll wait upon them; I am ready. + +[Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.] + +Dogb. +Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoal; bid him bring +his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now to examination these +men. + +Verg. +And we must do it wisely. + +Dogb. +We will spare for no wit, I warrant you here's that [touching his +forhead] shall drive some of them to a non-come: only get the +learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at +the gaol. + +[Exeunt.] + + + +ACT IV. + +Scene I.--The inside of a Church. + +[Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, +Hero, and Beatrice, &c.] + +Leon. +Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of +marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties +afterwards. + +Friar. +You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? + +Claud. +No. + +Leon. +To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her. + +Friar. +Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? + +Hero. +I do. + +Friar. +If either of you know any inward impediment why you should +not be conjoined, I charge you on your souls, to utter it. + +Claud. +Know you any, Hero? + +Hero. +None, my lord. + +Friar. +Know you any, count? + +Leon. +I dare make his answer, none. + +Claud. +O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! +[not knowing what they do!] + +Bene. +How now! Interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as, +ha! ha! he! + +Claud. +Stand thee by, friar:--Father, by your leave; +Will you with free and unconstrained soul +Give me this maid, your daughter? + +Leon. +As freely, son, as God did give her me. + +Claud. +And what have I to give you back, whose worth +May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? + +D. Pedro. +Nothing, unless you render her again. + +Claud. +Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. +There, Leonato, take her back again; +Give not this rotten orange to your friend; +She's but the sign and semblance of her honour: +Behold, how like a maid she blushes here: +O, what authority and show of truth +Can cunning sin cover itself withal! +Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, +To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, +All you that see her, that she were a maid, +By these exterior shows? But she is none: +She knows the heat of a luxurious bed: +Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. + +Leon. +What do you mean, my lord? + +Claud. +Not to be married, +Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. + +Leon. +Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, +Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, +And made defeat of her virginity,-- + +Claud. +I know what you would say; If I have known her, +You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, +And so extenuate the 'forehand sin: +No, Leonato, +I never tempted her with word too large; +But, as a brother to his sister, show'd +Bashful sincerity, and comely love. + +Hero. +And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? + +Claud. +Out on the seeming! I will write against it, +You seem to me as Dian in her orb; +As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; +But you are more intemperate in your blood +Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals +That rage in savage sensuality. + +Hero. +Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? + +Leon. +Sweet prince, why speak not you? + +D. Pedro. +What should I speak? +I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about +To link my dear friend to a common stale. + +Leon. +Are these things spoken? or do I but dream? + +D. John. +Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. + +Bene. +This looks not like a nuptial. + +Hero. +True? O God! + +Claud. +Leonato, stand I here? +Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother? +Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own? + +Leon. +All this is so: But what of this, my lord? + +Claud. +Let me but move one question to your daughter; +And, by that fatherly and kindly power +That you have in her, bid her answer truly. + +Leon. +I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. + +Hero. +O, God defend me! how am I beset!-- +What kind of catechising call you this? + +Claud. +To make you answer truly to your name. + +Hero. +Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name +With any just reproach? + +Claud. +Marry, that can Hero; +Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. +What man was he talk'd with you yesternight +Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one? +Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. + +Hero. +I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. + +D. Pedro. +Why, then are you no maiden.--Leonato, +I am sorry you must hear: Upon my honour, +Myself, my brother, and this grieved count, +Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night, +Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window; +Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, +Confess'd the vile encounters they have had +A thousand times in secret. + +D. John. +Fie, fie! they are +Not to be nam'd my lord, not to be spoke of; +There is not chastity enough in language +Without offence, to utter them: Thus, pretty lady, +I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. + +Claud. +O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, +If half thy outward graces had been placed +About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart! +But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, +Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! +For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, +And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, +To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, +And never shall it more be gracious. + +Leon. +Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? + +[Hero swoons.] + +Beat. +Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink you down? + +D. John. +Come, let us go: these things, come thus to light, +Smother her spirits up. + +[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don Juan, and Claudio.] + +Bene. +How doth the lady? + +Beat. +Dead, I think;--help, uncle;-- +Hero! why, Hero!--Uncle!--Signior Benedick!--friar! + +Leon. +O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand! +Death is the fairest cover for her shame +That may be wish'd for. + +Beat. +How now, cousin Hero? + +Friar. +Have comfort, lady. + +Leon. +Dost thou look up? + +Friar. +Yea; Wherefore should she not? + +Leon. +Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing +Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny +The story that is printed in her blood? +Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes: +For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, +Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, +Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches +Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? +Child I for that at frugal nature's frame? +O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? +Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? +Why had I not, with charitable hand, +Took up a beggar's issue at my gates; +Who, smirched thus, and mired with infamy, +I might have said, 'No part of it is mine, +This shame derives itself from unknown loins?' +But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, +And mine that I was proud on; mine so much, +That I myself was to myself not mine, +Valuing of her; why, she--O, she is fallen +Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea +Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; +And salt too little, which may season give +To her foul tainted flesh! + +Bene. +Sir, sir, be patient: +For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, +I know not what to say. + +Beat. +O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! + +Bene. +Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? + +Beat. +No, truly not; although until last night, +I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow + +Leon. +Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made +Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! +Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie, +Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness, +Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her; let her die. + +Friar. +Hear me a little; +For I have only been silent so long, +And given way unto this course of fortune, +By noting of the lady; I have mark'd +A thousand blushing apparitions start +Into her face; a thousand innocent shames +In angel whiteness beat away those blushes; +And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, +To burn the errors that these princes hold +Against her maiden truth:--Call me a fool; +Trust not my reading, nor my observations, +Which with experimental seal doth warrant +The tenour of my book; trust not my age, +My reverence, calling, nor divinity, +If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here +Under some biting error. + +Leon. +Friar, it cannot be: +Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left +Is, that she will not add to her damnation +A sin of perjury; she not denies it: +Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse +That which appears in proper nakedness? + +Friar. +Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? + +Hero. +They know that do accuse me; I know none: +If I know more of any man alive +Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, +Let all my sins lack mercy!--O my father, +Prove you that any man with me convers'd +At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight +Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, +Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. + +Friar. +There is some strange misprision in the princes. + +Bene. +Two of them have the very bent of honour; +And if their wisdoms be misled in this, +The practice of it lives in John the bastard, +Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. + +Leon. +I know not: If they speak but truth of her, +These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, +The proudest of them shall well hear of it. +Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, +Nor age so eat up my invention, +Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, +Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, +But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind, +Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, +Ability in means, and choice of friends, +To quit me of them throughly. + +Friar. +Pause awhile, +And let my counsel sway you in this case. +Your daughter here the princes left for dead; +Let her awhile be secretly kept in, +And publish it that she is dead indeed: +Maintain a mourning ostentation; +And on your family's old monument +Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites +That appertain unto a burial. + +Leon. +What shall become of this? What will this do? + +Friar. +Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf +Change slander to remorse; that is some good: +But not for that dream I on this strange course, +But on this travail look for greater birth. +She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, +Upon the instant that she was accus'd, +Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd +Of every hearer: For it so falls out, +That what we have we prize not to the worth +Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, +Why then we rack the value, then we find +The virtue that possession would not show us +Whiles it was ours: So will it fare with Claudio: +When he shall hear she died upon his words, +The idea of her life shall sweetly creep +Into his study of imagination; +And every lovely organ of her life +Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, +More moving-delicate, and full of life, +Into the eye and prospect of his soul, +Than when she liv'd indeed:--then shall he mourn +(If ever love had interest in his liver,) +And wish he had not so accused her; +No, though he thought his accusation true. +Let this be so, and doubt not but success +Will fashion the event in better shape +Than I can lay it down in likelihood. +But if all aim but this be levell'd false, +The supposition of the lady's death +Will quench the wonder of her infamy. +And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her, +(As best befits her wounded reputation,) +In some reclusive and religious life, +Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. + +Bene. +Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you; +And though, you know, my inwardness and love +Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, +Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this +As secretly and justly as your soul +Should with your body. + +Leon. +Being that I flow in grief, +The smallest twine may lead me. + +Friar. +'T is well consented; presently away; +For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.-- +Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day, +Perhaps, is but prolong'd; have patience and endure. + +[Exeunt Friar, Hero, and Leonato.] + +Bene. +Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? + +Beat. +Yea, and I will weep a while longer. + +Bene. +I will not desire that. + +Beat. +You have no reason, I do it freely. + +Bene. +Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. + +Beat. +Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! + +Bene. +Is there any way to show such friendship? + +Beat. +A very even way, but no such friend. + +Bene. +May a man do it? + +Beat. +It is a man's office, but not yours. + +Bene. +I do love nothing in the world so well as you: Is not that +strange? + +Beat. +As strange as the thing I know not: It were as possible for +me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and +yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing:--I am sorry +for my cousin. + +Bene. +By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. + +Beat. +Do not swear by it, and eat it. + +Bene. +I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat +it that says I love not you. + +Beat. +Will you not eat your word? + +Bene. +With no sauce that can be devised to it: I protest I love +thee. + +Beat. +Why then, God forgive me! + +Bene. +What offence, sweet Beatrice? + +Beat. +You have stayed me in a happy hour; I was about to protest I +loved you. + +Bene. +And do it with all thy heart. + +Beat. +I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to +protest. + +Bene. +Come, bid me do anything for thee. + +Beat. +Kill Claudio. + +Bene. +Ha! not for the wide world. + +Beat. +You kill me to deny it: Farewell. + +Bene. +Tarry, sweet Beatrice. + +Beat. +I am gone, though I am here:--There is no love in you:--Nay, I +pray you, let me go. + +Bene. +Beatrice,-- + +Beat. +In faith, I will go. + +Bene. +We'll be friends first. + +Beat. +You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy. + +Bene. +Is Claudio thine enemy? + +Beat. +Is 'a not approved in the height a villain, that hath +slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman?--O that I were a +man!--What! bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and +then with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated +rancour,--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the +market-place. + +Bene. +Hear me, Beatrice;-- + +Beat. +Talk with a man out at a window?--a proper saying. + +Bene. +Nay but, Beatrice;-- + +Beat. +Sweet Hero!--she is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. + +Bene. +Beat-- + +Beat. +Princes, and Counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly +count-confect: a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man +for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my +sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into +compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones +too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie, +and swears it:--I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I +will die a woman with grieving. + +Bene. +Tarry, good Beatrice: By this hand, I love thee. + +Beat. +Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. + +Bene. +Think you in your soul the count Claudio hath wronged Hero? + +Beat. +Yea, as sure is I have a thought, or a soul. + +Bene. +Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge him; I will kiss your +hand, and so I leave you: By this hand, Claudio shall render me a +dear account: As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort +your cousin: I must say she is dead; and so, farewell. + +[Exeunt.] + + + +Scene II.--A prison. + +[Enter Dogberry, Verges, Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, +with Conrade and Borachio.] + +Dogb. +Is our whole dissembly appeared? + +Verg. +O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton! + +Sexton. +Which be the malefactors? + +Dogb. +Marry, that am I and my partner. + +Verg. +Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibition to examine. + +Sexton. +But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them +come before master constable. + +Dogb. +Yea, marry, let them come before me.--What is your name, +friend? + +Bor. +Borachio. + +Dogb. +Pray write down, Borachio.--Yours, sirrah? + +Con. +I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. + +Dogb. +Write down, master gentleman Conrade.--Masters, do you serve +God? + +[Con Bora. +Yea, sir, we hope. + +Dogb. +Write down that they hope they serve God:--and write God first; +for God defend but God should go before such villains!--]Masters, +it is proved already that you are little better than false +knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer +you for yourselves? + +Con. +Marry, sir, we say we are none. + +Dogb. +A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about +with him.--Come you hither, sirrah; a word in your ear, sir; I +say to you, it is thought you are false knaves. + +Bora. +Sir, I say to you, we are none. + +Dogb. +Well, stand aside.--Fore God, they are both in a tale: +Have you writ down, that they are none? + +Sexton. +Master constable, you go not the way to examine; you must call +forth the watch that are their accusers. + +Dogb. +Yea, marry, that's the eftest way:--Let the watch come forth:-- +Masters, I charge you, in the Prince's name, accuse these men. + +1. Watch. +This man said, sir, that don John the prince's brother, was a +villain. + +Dogb. +Write down, prince John a villain:--Why, this is flat perjury, +to call a prince's brother villain. + +Bora. +Master Constable,-- + +Dogb. +Pray thee, fellow, peace; I do not like thy look, I promise +thee. + +Sexton. +What heard you him say else? + +2. Watch. +Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of don John, +for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. + +Dogb. +Flat burglary, as ever was committed. + +Verg. +Yea, by the mass, that it is. + +Sexton. +What else, fellow? + +1. Watch. +And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace +Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. + +Dogb. +O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption +for this. + +Sexton. +What else? + +2. Watch +This is all. + +Sexton. +And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is +this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner +accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this +suddenly died.--Master constable, let these men be bound, and +brought to Leonato; I will go before, and show him their +examination. + +[Exit.] + +Dogb. +Come, let them be opinioned. + +Verg. +Let them be in the hands-- + +Con. +Off, coxcomb! + +Dogb. +God's my life! where's the sexton? let him write down the +prince's officer, coxcomb. Come, bind them:--Thou naughty +varlet! + +Con. +Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. + +Dogb. +Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my +years?--O that he were here to write me down, an ass! but, +masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written +down, yet forget not that I am an ass:--No, thou villain, thou +art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. +I am a wise fellow; and which is more, an officer; and, which is +more, a householder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of +flesh as any in Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; and +a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; +and one that hath two gowns and everything handsome about him:-- +Bring him away. O, that I had been writ down, an ass! + +[Exeunt.] + + + +ACT V. + +Scene I.--Before Leonato's House. + +[Enter Leonato and Antonio.] + +Ant. +If you go on thus, you will kill yourself; +And 't is not wisdom thus to second grief +Against yourself. + +Leon. +I pray thee, cease thy counsel, +Which falls into mine ears as profitless +As water in a sieve: give not me counsel; +Nor let no comforter delight mine ear, +But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. +Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, +Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, +And bid him speak to me of patience; +Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, +And let it answer every strain for strain; +As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, +In every lineament, branch, shape, and form: +If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard; +And, 'sorrow wag,' cry; hem, when he should groan; +Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk +With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, +And I of him will gather patience. +But there is no such man: For, brother, men +Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief +Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, +Their counsel turns to passion, which before +Would give preceptial medicine to rage, +Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, +Charm ach with air, and agony with words: +No, no; 't is all men's office to speak patience +To those that wring under the load of sorrow; +But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency +To be so moral, when he shall endure +The like himself: therefore give me no counsel: +My griefs cry louder than advertisement. + +Ant. +Therein do men from children nothing differ. + +Leon. +I pray thee, peace; I will be flesh and blood; +For there was never yet philosopher +That could endure the tooth-ach patiently; +However they have writ the style of gods. +And made a push at chance and sufferance. + +Ant. +Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; +Make those that do offend you suffer too. + +Leon. +There thou speak'st reason; nay, I will do so: +My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; +And that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince, +And all of them, that thus dishonour her. + +[Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.] + +Ant. +Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily. + +D. Pedro. +Good den, good den. + +Claud. +Good day to both of you. + +Leon. +Hear you, my lords,-- + +D. Pedro. +We have some haste, Leonato. + +Leon. +Some haste, my lord!--well, fare you well, my lord: +Are you so hasty now?--well, all is one. + +D. Pedro. +Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. + +Ant. +If he could right himself with quarrelling, +Some of us would lie low. + +Claud. +Who wrongs him? + +Leon. +Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou:-- +Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, +I fear thee not. + +Claud. +Mary, beshrew my hand +If it should give your age such cause of fear: +In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. + +Leon. +Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me: +I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool; +As, under privilege of age, to brag +What I have done being young, or what would do, +Were I not old: Know, Claudio, to thy head, +Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me, +That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by; +And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days, +Do challenge thee to trial of a man. +I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child; +Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, +And she lies buried with her ancestors: +O! in a tomb where never scandal slept, +Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany. + +Claud. +My villany! + +Leon. +Thine, Claudio; thine I say. + +D. Pedro. +You say not right, old man. + +Leon. +My lord, my lord, +I'll prove it on his body, if he dare; +Despite his nice fence and his active practice, +His May of youth and bloom of lustihood. + +Claud. +Away, I will not have to do with you. + +Leon. +Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill'd my child; +If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. + +Ant. +He shall kill two of us, and men indeed; +But that's no matter; let him kill one first;-- +Win me and wear me,--let him answer me,-- +Come, follow me, boy; come sir boy, come follow me: +Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; +Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. + +Leon. +Brother,-- + +Ant. +Content yourself: God knows, I lov'd my niece; +And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains; +That dare as well answer a man indeed, +As I dare take a serpent by the tongue: +Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops!-- + +Leon. +Brother Antony,-- + +Ant. +Hold your content: What, man! I know them, yea, +And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple: +Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys, +That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander, +Go anticly, show outward hideousness, +And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, +How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, +And this is all. + +Leon. +But, brother Antony ,-- + +Ant. +Come, 't is no matter; +Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. + +D. Pedro. +Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. +My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; +But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing +But what was true, and very full of proof. + +Leon. +My lord, my lord,-- + +D. Pedro. +I will not hear you. + +Leon. +No? +Come, brother, away:--I will be heard;-- + +Ant. +And shall, +Or some of us will smart for it. + +[Exeunt Leonato and Antonio.] + +[Enter Benedick.] + +D. Pedro. +See, see; here comes the man we went to seek. + +Claud. +Now, signior! what news? + +Bene. +Good day, my lord. + +D. Pedro. +Welcome, signior: You are almost come to part almost a fray. + +Claud. +We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two +old men without teeth. + +D. Pedro. +Leonato and his brother: What think'st thou? Had we fought, +I doubt we should have been too young for them. + +Bene. +In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I came to seek +you both. + +Claud. +We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high proof +melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away: Wilt thou use thy +wit? + +Bene. +It is in my scabbard: Shall I draw it? + +D. Pedro. +Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? + +Claud. +Never any did so, though very many have been beside their +wit.--I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to +pleasure us. + +D. Pedro. +As I am an honest man, he looks pale:--Art thou sick, or +angry? + +Claud. +What! courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast +mettle enough in thee to kill care. + +Bene. +Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it +against me. I pray you:--choose another subject. + +Claud. +Nay then, give him another staff; this last was broke cross. + +D. Pedro. +By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry +indeed. + +Claud. +If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. + +Bene. +Shall I speak a word in your ear? + +Claud. +God bless me from a challenge! + +Bene. +You are a villain;--I jest not--I will make +it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare:--Do +me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a +sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you: Let me hear +from you. + +Claud. +Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. + +D. Pedro. +What, a feast? a feast? + +Claud. +I' faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf's head and +a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my +knife's naught.--Shall I not find a woodcock too? + +Bene. +Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. + +D. Pedro. +I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I +said, thou hadst a fine wit; 'True,' says she, 'a fine little +one:' 'No,' said I, 'a great wit;' 'Right,' says she, 'a great +gross one:' 'Nay,' said I, 'a good wit;' 'Just,' said she, 'it +hurts nobody:' 'Nay,' said I, 'the gentleman is wise;' 'Certain,' +said she, 'a wise gentleman:' 'Nay,' said I, 'he hath the +tongues;' 'That I believe,' said she, 'for he swore a thing to me +on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a +double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus did she, an hour +together, transshape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she +concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. + +Claud. +For the which she wept heartily, and said, she cared not. + +D. Pedro. +Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not +hate him deadly, she would love him dearly: the old man's +daughter told us all. + +Claud. +All, all; and moreover, 'God saw him when he was hid in the +garden.' + +D. Pedro. +But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the +sensible Benedick's head? + +Claud. +Yea, and text underneath, 'Here dwells Benedick the married +man?' + +Bene. +Fare you well, boy! you know my mind; I will leave you now to +your gossip-like humour: you break jests as braggarts do their +blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not.--My lord, for your many +courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company: your +brother, the bastard, is fled from Messina: you have, among you +killed a sweet and innocent lady: For my Lord Lack-beard there, +he and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him. + +[Exit Benedick.] + +D. Pedro. +He is in earnest. + +Claud. +In most profound earnest; and I'll warrant you for the +love of Beatrice. + +D. Pedro. +And hath challenged thee? + +Claud. +Most sincerely. + +D. Pedro. +What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and +hose, and leaves off his wit! + +Claud. +He is then a giant to an ape: but then is an ape a doctor to +such a man. + +D. Pedro. +But, soft you, let me be; pluck up, my heart, and be sad! +Did he not say my brother was fled? + +[Enter Dogberry, and Verges, and the Watch, with Conrade +and Borachio.] + +Dogb. +Come, you, sir; if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er +weigh more reasons in her balance: nay, an you be a cursing +hypocrite once, you must be looked to. + +D. Pedro. +How now? two of my brother's men bound! Borachio one! + +Claud. +Hearken after their offence, my lord! + +D. Pedro. +Officers, what offence have these men done? + +Dogb. +Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they +have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and +lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified +unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves. + +D. Pedro. +First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee +what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; +and to conclude, what you lay to their charge? + +Claud. +Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and by my troth +there's one meaning well suited. + +D. Pedro. +Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to +your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be +understood: What's your offence? + +Bora. +Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine answer; do you +hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your +very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover these shallow +fools have brought to light; who, in the night overheard me +confessing to this man, how Don John your brother insensed me to +slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and +saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgraced her, +when you should marry her: my villany they have upon record; +which I had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my +shame: the lady is dead upon mine and my master's false +accusation: and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a +villain. + +D. Pedro. +Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? + +Claud. +I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it. + +D. Pedro. +But did my brother set thee on to this? + +Bora. +Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. + +D. Pedro. +He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery:-- +And fled he is upon this villany. + +Claud. +Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear +In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. + +Dogb. +Come, bring away the plaintiffs; By this time our sexton hath +reformed signior Leonato of the matter: And, masters, do not +forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an +ass. + +Verg. +Here, here comes master signior Leonato, and the sexton too. + +[Re-enter Leonato and Antonio with the Sexton.] + +Leon. +Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes; +That when I note another man like him +I may avoid him: Which of these is he? + +Bora. +If you would know your wronger, look on me. + +Leon. +Art thou--thou--the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd +Mine innocent child? + +Bora. +Yea, even I alone. + +Leon. +No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself; +Here stand a pair of honourable men, +A third is fled, that had a hand in it: +I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death; +Record it with your high and worthy deeds; +'T was bravely done, if you bethink you of it. + +Claud. +I know not how to pray your patience, +Yet I must speak: Choose your revenge yourself; +Impose me to what penance your invention +Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not, +But in mistaking. + +D. Pedro. +By my soul, nor I; +And yet, to satisfy this good old man, +I would bend under any heavy weight +That he'll enjoin me to. + +Leon. +I cannot bid you bid my daughter live, +That were impossible; but I pray you both, +Possess the people in Messina here +How innocent she died: and, if your love +Can labour aught in sad invention, +Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, +And sing it to her bones; sing it to-night:-- +To-morrow morning come you to my house; +And since you could not be my son-in-law, +Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter, +Almost the copy of my child that's dead, +And she alone is heir to both of us; +Give her the right you should have given her cousin, +And so dies my revenge. + +Claud. +O noble sir, +Your over kindness doth wring tears from me! +I do embrace your offer; and dispose +For henceforth of poor Claudio. + +Leon. +To-morrow then I will expect your coming; +To-night I take my leave.--This naughty man +Shall fact to face be brought to Margaret, +Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, +Hir'd to it by your brother. + +Bora. +No, by my soul, she was not; +Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me; +But always hath been just and virtuous, +In anything that I do know by her. + +Dogb. +Moreover, sir, (which indeed is not under white and black,) this +plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let +it be remembered in his punishment: And also the watch heard them +talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his ear, and a +lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name, the which he +hath used so long and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, +and will lend nothing for God's sake: Pray you, examine him upon +that point. + +Leon. +I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. + +Dogb. +Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth; +and I praise God for you. + +Leon. +There's for thy pains. + +Dogb. +God save the foundation! + +Leon. +Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. + +Dogb. +I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which, I beseech +your worship, to correct yourself, for the example of others. +God keep your worship; I wish your worship well; God restore you +to health: I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry +meeting may be wished, God prohibit it.--Come, neighbour. + +[Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch.] + +Leon. +Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. + +Ant. +Farewell, my lords; we look for you to-morrow. + +D. Pedro. +We will not fall. + +Claud. +To night I'll mourn with Hero. + +[Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio.] + +Leon. +Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with Margaret, +How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. + +[Exeunt.] + + + +Scene II.--Leonato's Garden. + +[Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting.] + +Bene. +Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, +by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. + +Marg. +Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? + +Bene. +In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come +over it; for in most comely truth, thou deservest it. + +Marg. +To have no man come over me? why, shall I always keep below +stairs? + +Bene. +Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. + +Marg. +And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt +not. + +Bene. +A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; +and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give thee the bucklers. + +Marg. +Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own. + +Bene. +If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a +vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. + +Marg. +Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. + +[Exit Margaret.] + +Bene. +And therefore will come. + + The god of love, [Singing.] + That sits above, + And knows me, and knows me, + How pitiful I deserve,-- + +I mean, in singing; but in loving.--Leander the good swimmer, +Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book full of +these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the +even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned +over and over as my poor self in love: Marry, I cannot show it in +rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhyme to 'lady' but +'baby,' an innocent rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn,' a hard rhyme: for +'school', 'fool,' a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: No, I +was not born under a rhyming planet, nor cannot woo in festival +terms. + +[Enter Beatrice.] + +Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? + +Beat. +Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. + +Bene. +O, stay but till then! + +Beat. +Then, is spoken: fare you well now:--and yet, ere I go, let +me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath +passed between you and Claudio. + +Bene. +Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee. + +Beat. +Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul +breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart +unkissed. + +Bene. +Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so +forcible is thy wit: But, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio +undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, +or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me, +for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? + +Beat. +For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of +evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with +them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love +for me? + +Bene. +'Suffer love;' a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I +love thee against my will. + +Beat. +In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart! If you +spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never +love that which my friend hates. + +Bene. +Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. + +Beat. +It appears not in this confession; there's not one wise man +among twenty that will praise himself. + +Bene. +An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of +good neighbours: if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb +ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bells +ring, and the widow weeps. + +Beat. +And how long is that, think you? + +Bene. +Question?--Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum: +Therefore is it most expedient for the wise, (if don Worm, his +conscience, find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the +trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself: So much for +praising myself, (who, I myself will bear witness, is +praiseworthy,) and now tell me, How doth your cousin? + +Beat. +Very ill. + +Bene. +And how do you? + +Beat. +Very ill too. + +Bene. +Serve God, love me, and mend: there will I leave you too, for +here comes one in haste. + +[Enter Ursula.] + +Urs. +Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home: +it is proved, my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused; the prince +and Claudio mightily abused; and don John is the author of all, +who is fled and gone: will you come presently? + +Beat. +Will you go hear this news, signior? + +Bene. +I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy +eyes; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. + +[Exeunt.] + + + +Scene III.--The Inside of a Church. + +[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants, with music and +tapers.] + +Claud. +Is this the monument of Leonato? + +Atten. +It is, my lord. + +Claud. +[reads from a scroll] + + 'Done to death by slanderous tongues + Was the Hero that here lies: + Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, + Gives her fame which never dies: + So the life that died with shame + Lives in death with glorious fame. + + Hang thou there upon the tomb, + Praising her when I am dumb.' + +Now, music sound, and sing your solemn hymn. + +[Song.] + + 'Pardon, Goddess of the night, + Those that slew thy virgin knight; + For the which, with songs of woe, + Round about her tomb they go. + Midnight, assist our moan; + Help us to sigh and groan, + Heavily, heavily: + Graves, yawn, and yield your dead, + Till death be uttered, + Heavenly, heavenly.' + +Claud. +Now unto thy bones good night! +Yearly will I do this rite. + +D. Pedro. +Good morrow, masters; put your torches out: +The wolves have prey'd: and look, the gentle day, +Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about +Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey: +Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. + +Claud. +Good morrow, masters; each his several way. + +D. Pedro. +Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; +And then to Leonato's we will go. + +Claud. +And, Hymen, now with luckier issue speeds +Than this, for whom we rend'red up this woe! + +[Exeunt.] + + + +Scene IV.--A Room in Leonato's House + +[Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Ursula, Friar, +and Hero.] + +Friar. +Did I not tell you she was innocent? + +Leon. +So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her, +Upon the error that you heard debated: +But Margaret was in some fault for this; +Although against her will, as it appears +In the true course of all the question. + +Ant. +Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. + +Bene. +And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd +To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. + +Leon. +Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, +Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; +And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd: +The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour +To visit me:--You know your office, brother: +You must be father to your brother's daughter, +And give her to young Claudio. + +[Exeunt Ladies.] + +Ant. +Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. + +Bene. +Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. + +Friar. +To do what, signior? + +Bene. +To bind me, or undo me, one of them. +Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, +Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. + +Leon. +That eye my daughter lent her: 'T is most true. + +Bene. +And I do with an eye of love requite her. + +Leon. +The sight whereof, I think, you had from me, +>From Claudio, and the prince. But what's your will? + +Bene. +Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: +But, for my will, my will is, your good will +May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd +In the estate of honourable marriage; +In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. + +Leon. +My heart is with your liking. + +Friar. +And my help. +(Here comes the Prince and Claudio.) + +[Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with Attendants. ] + +D. Pedro. +Good morrow to this fair assembly. + +Leon. +Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio; +We here attend you. Are you yet determin'd +To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? + +Claud. +I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. + +Leon. +Call her forth, brother, here's the friar ready. + +[Exit Antonio.] + +D. Pedro. +Good morrow, Benedick: Why, what's the matter, +That you have such a February face, +So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? + +Claud. +I think he thinks upon the savage bull:-- +Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, +And all Europa shall rejoice at thee; +As once Europa did at lusty Jove, +When he would play the noble beast in love. + +Bene. +Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; +And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow, +And got a calf in that same noble feat, +Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. + +[Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies masked.] + +Claud. +For this I owe you: Here comes other reckonings. +Which is the lady I must seize upon? + +Ant. +This same is she, and I do give you her. + +Claud. +Why, then she's mine: Sweet, let me see your face. + +Leon. +No, that you shall not, till you take her hand +Before this friar, and swear to marry her. + +Claud. +Give me your hand before this holy friar; +I am your husband, if you like of me. + +Hero. +And when I liv'd I was your other wife: +[Unmasking.] +And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. + +Claud. +Another Hero? + +Hero. +Nothing certainer; +One Hero died (defil'd;) but I do live, +And surely as I live, I am a maid. + +D. Pedro. +The former Hero! Hero that is dead! + +Leon. +She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. + +Friar. +All this amazement can I qualify; +When, after that the holy rites are ended, +I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: +Meantime, let wonder seem familiar, +And to the chapel let us presently. + +Bene. +Soft and fair, friar.--Which is Beatrice? + +Beat. +I answer to that name; [Unmasking] what is your will? + +Bene. +Do not you love me? + +Beat. +Why no, no more than reason. + +Bene. +Why then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio, +Have been deceived; for they swore you did. + +Beat. +Do not you love me? + +Bene. +Troth no, no more than reason. + +Beat. +Why then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, +Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. + +Bene. +They swore that you were almost sick for me. + +Beat. +They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. + +Bene. +'T is no such matter:--Then you do not love me? + +Beat. +No, truly, but in friendly recompense. + +Leon. +Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. + +Claud. +And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; +For here's a paper, written in his hand, +A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, +Fashion'd to Beatrice. + +Hero. +And here's another, +Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, +Containing her affection unto Benedick. + +Bene. +A miracle; here's our own hands against our hearts!--Come, +I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. + +Beat. +I would not deny you;--but, by this good day, I yield upon +great persuasion; and partly, to save your life, for I was told +you were in a consumption. + +Bene. +Peace, I will stop your mouth. + +[Kissing her.] + +D. Pedro. +How dost thou, Benedick the married man? + +Beat. +I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers cannot +flout me out of my humour: Dost thou think I care for a satire, +or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall +wear nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do purpose to +marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say +against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said +against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my +conclusion.--For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten +thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, +and love my cousin. + +Claud. +I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I +might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a +double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be if my cousin +do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. + +Bene. +Come, come, we are friends:--let's have a dance ere we are +married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' +heels. + +Leon. +We'll have dancing afterwards. + +Bene. +First, o' my word; therefore, play music.-- +Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is +no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn. + +[Enter a Messenger.] + +Mess. +My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, +And brought with armed men back to Messina. + +Bene. +Think not on him till to-morrow; I'll devise thee brave +punishments for him.--Strike up, pipers. + +[Dance.] + +[Exeunt.] + +THE END + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1520 *** |