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Much Ado About Nothing | |
by William Shakespeare | |
Characters in the Play | |
====================== | |
LEONATO, Governor of Messina | |
HERO, his daughter | |
BEATRICE, his niece | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Waiting gentlewomen to Hero: | |
MARGARET | |
URSULA | |
DON PEDRO, Prince of Aragon | |
COUNT CLAUDIO, a young lord from Florence | |
SIGNIOR BENEDICK, a gentleman from Padua | |
BALTHASAR | |
SIGNIOR ANTONIO | |
DON JOHN, Don Pedro's brother | |
Don John's followers: | |
BORACHIO | |
CONRADE | |
DOGBERRY, Master Constable in Messina | |
VERGES, Dogberry's partner | |
GEORGE SEACOAL, leader of the Watch | |
FIRST WATCHMAN | |
SECOND WATCHMAN | |
SEXTON | |
FRIAR FRANCIS | |
MESSENGER to Leonato | |
MESSENGER to Don Pedro | |
BOY | |
Musicians, Lords, Attendants, Son to Leonato's brother | |
ACT 1 | |
===== | |
Scene 1 | |
======= | |
[Enter Leonato, Governor of Messina, Hero his daughter, | |
and Beatrice his niece, with a Messenger.] | |
LEONATO, [with a letter] I learn in this letter that Don | |
Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina. | |
MESSENGER He is very near by this. He was not three | |
leagues off when I left him. | |
LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this | |
action? | |
MESSENGER But few of any sort, and none of name. | |
LEONATO A victory is twice itself when the achiever | |
brings home full numbers. I find here that Don | |
Pedro hath bestowed much honor on a young | |
Florentine called Claudio. | |
MESSENGER 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. | |
LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be | |
very much glad of it. | |
MESSENGER 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. | |
LEONATO Did he break out into tears? | |
MESSENGER In great measure. | |
LEONATO 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! | |
BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned | |
from the wars or no? | |
MESSENGER I know none of that name, lady. There | |
was none such in the army of any sort. | |
LEONATO What is he that you ask for, niece? | |
HERO My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. | |
MESSENGER O, he's returned, and as pleasant as ever | |
he was. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
LEONATO Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too | |
much, but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. | |
MESSENGER He hath done good service, lady, in these | |
wars. | |
BEATRICE You had musty victual, and he hath holp to | |
eat it. He is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an | |
excellent stomach. | |
MESSENGER And a good soldier too, lady. | |
BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady, but what is he | |
to a lord? | |
MESSENGER A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed | |
with all honorable virtues. | |
BEATRICE It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuffed | |
man, but for the stuffing--well, we are all mortal. | |
LEONATO You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is | |
a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and | |
her. They never meet but there's a skirmish of wit | |
between them. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
MESSENGER Is 't possible? | |
BEATRICE Very easily possible. He wears his faith but | |
as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the | |
next block. | |
MESSENGER I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your | |
books. | |
BEATRICE 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? | |
MESSENGER He is most in the company of the right | |
noble Claudio. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
MESSENGER I will hold friends with you, lady. | |
BEATRICE Do, good friend. | |
LEONATO You will never run mad, niece. | |
BEATRICE No, not till a hot January. | |
MESSENGER Don Pedro is approached. | |
[Enter Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon, with Claudio, | |
Benedick, Balthasar, and John the Bastard.] | |
PRINCE Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet | |
your trouble? The fashion of the world is to avoid | |
cost, and you encounter it. | |
LEONATO 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. | |
PRINCE You embrace your charge too willingly. [Turning | |
to Hero.] I think this is your daughter. | |
LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so. | |
BENEDICK Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? | |
LEONATO Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a | |
child. | |
PRINCE 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 honorable father. | |
[Leonato and the Prince move aside.] | |
BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, she would | |
not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, | |
as like him as she is. | |
BEATRICE I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior | |
Benedick, nobody marks you. | |
BENEDICK What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet | |
living? | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
BEATRICE 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 humor | |
for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow | |
than a man swear he loves me. | |
BENEDICK God keep your Ladyship still in that mind, | |
so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate | |
scratched face. | |
BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse an | |
'twere such a face as yours were. | |
BENEDICK Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. | |
BEATRICE A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of | |
yours. | |
BENEDICK I would my horse had the speed of your | |
tongue and so good a continuer, but keep your | |
way, i' God's name, I have done. | |
BEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick. I know | |
you of old. | |
[Leonato and the Prince come forward.] | |
PRINCE 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 heartily prays | |
some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear | |
he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. | |
LEONATO If you swear, my lord, you shall not be | |
forsworn. [To Don John.] Let me bid you welcome, | |
my lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother, | |
I owe you all duty. | |
DON JOHN I thank you. I am not of many words, but I | |
thank you. | |
LEONATO Please it your Grace lead on? | |
PRINCE Your hand, Leonato. We will go together. | |
[All exit except Benedick and Claudio.] | |
CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of | |
Signior Leonato? | |
BENEDICK I noted her not, but I looked on her. | |
CLAUDIO Is she not a modest young lady? | |
BENEDICK 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? | |
CLAUDIO No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
CLAUDIO Thou thinkest I am in sport. I pray thee tell | |
me truly how thou lik'st her. | |
BENEDICK Would you buy her that you enquire after | |
her? | |
CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel? | |
BENEDICK 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? | |
CLAUDIO In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever | |
I looked on. | |
BENEDICK 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? | |
CLAUDIO I would scarce trust myself, though I had | |
sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. | |
BENEDICK Is 't come to this? In faith, hath not the | |
world one man but he will wear his cap with | |
suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore | |
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. | |
[Enter Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon.] | |
PRINCE What secret hath held you here that you followed | |
not to Leonato's? | |
BENEDICK I would your Grace would constrain me to | |
tell. | |
PRINCE I charge thee on thy allegiance. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered. | |
BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord: "It is not so, nor | |
'twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be | |
so." | |
CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid | |
it should be otherwise. | |
PRINCE Amen, if you love her, for the lady is very well | |
worthy. | |
CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. | |
PRINCE By my troth, I speak my thought. | |
CLAUDIO And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. | |
BENEDICK And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I | |
spoke mine. | |
CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel. | |
PRINCE That she is worthy, I know. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
PRINCE Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the | |
despite of beauty. | |
CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part but in the | |
force of his will. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
PRINCE I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
PRINCE Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou | |
wilt prove a notable argument. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
PRINCE Well, as time shall try. | |
In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. | |
BENEDICK The savage bull may, but if ever the 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." | |
CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be | |
horn-mad. | |
PRINCE Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in | |
Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. | |
BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too, then. | |
PRINCE 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. | |
BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such | |
an embassage, and so I commit you-- | |
CLAUDIO To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had | |
it-- | |
PRINCE The sixth of July. Your loving friend, | |
Benedick. | |
BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your | |
discourse is sometimes 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. [He exits.] | |
CLAUDIO | |
My liege, your Highness now may do me good. | |
PRINCE | |
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. | |
CLAUDIO | |
Hath Leonato any son, my lord? | |
PRINCE | |
No child but Hero; she's his only heir. | |
Dost thou affect her, Claudio? | |
CLAUDIO O, my lord, | |
When you went onward on this ended action, | |
I looked upon her with a soldier's eye, | |
That liked, but had a rougher task in hand | |
Than to drive liking to the name of love. | |
But now I am returned 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 liked her ere I went to wars. | |
PRINCE | |
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 began'st to twist so fine a story? | |
CLAUDIO | |
How sweetly you do minister to love, | |
That know love's grief by his complexion! | |
But lest my liking might too sudden seem, | |
I would have salved it with a longer treatise. | |
PRINCE | |
What need the bridge much broader than the flood? | |
The fairest grant is the necessity. | |
Look what will serve is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest, | |
And I will fit thee with the remedy. | |
I know we shall have reveling tonight. | |
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. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 2 | |
======= | |
[Enter Leonato, meeting an old man, brother to | |
Leonato.] | |
LEONATO How now, brother, where is my cousin, your | |
son? Hath he provided this music? | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER He is very busy about it. But, | |
brother, I can tell you strange news that you yet | |
dreamt not of. | |
LEONATO Are they good? | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER As the events 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 much | |
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. | |
LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER A good sharp fellow. I will send | |
for him, and question him yourself. | |
LEONATO 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. | |
[Enter Antonio's son, with a Musician and Attendants.] | |
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 cousin, have a care this busy | |
time. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 3 | |
======= | |
[Enter Sir John the Bastard, and Conrade, his | |
companion.] | |
CONRADE What the goodyear, my lord, why are you | |
thus out of measure sad? | |
DON JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that | |
breeds. Therefore the sadness is without limit. | |
CONRADE You should hear reason. | |
DON JOHN And when I have heard it, what blessing | |
brings it? | |
CONRADE If not a present remedy, at least a patient | |
sufferance. | |
DON JOHN I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayst 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 humor. | |
CONRADE 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 true root but by the fair | |
weather that you make yourself. It is needful that | |
you frame the season for your own harvest. | |
DON JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a | |
rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be | |
disdained 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. | |
CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent? | |
DON JOHN I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who | |
comes here? | |
[Enter Borachio.] | |
What news, Borachio? | |
BORACHIO 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. | |
DON JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief | |
on? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to | |
unquietness? | |
BORACHIO Marry, it is your brother's right hand. | |
DON JOHN Who, the most exquisite Claudio? | |
BORACHIO Even he. | |
DON JOHN A proper squire. And who, and who? Which | |
way looks he? | |
BORACHIO Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of | |
Leonato. | |
DON JOHN A very forward March chick! How came you | |
to this? | |
BORACHIO 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 | |
whipped 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. | |
DON 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? | |
CONRADE To the death, my lord. | |
DON JOHN Let us to the great supper. Their cheer is the | |
greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were o' | |
my mind! Shall we go prove what's to be done? | |
BORACHIO We'll wait upon your Lordship. | |
[They exit.] | |
ACT 2 | |
===== | |
Scene 1 | |
======= | |
[Enter Leonato, his brother, Hero his daughter, and | |
Beatrice his niece, with Ursula and Margaret.] | |
LEONATO Was not Count John here at supper? | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER I saw him not. | |
BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I never | |
can see him but I am heartburned an hour after. | |
HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition. | |
BEATRICE He were an excellent man that were made | |
just in the midway 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. | |
LEONATO Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in | |
Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy | |
in Signior Benedick's face-- | |
BEATRICE 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 | |
goodwill. | |
LEONATO By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a | |
husband if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER In faith, she's too curst. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
LEONATO So, by being too curst, God will send you no | |
horns. | |
BEATRICE 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 in | |
the woolen! | |
LEONATO You may light on a husband that hath no | |
beard. | |
BEATRICE 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 bearherd, and lead | |
his apes into hell. | |
LEONATO Well then, go you into hell? | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER, [to Hero] Well, niece, I trust you | |
will be ruled by your father. | |
BEATRICE Yes, faith, it is my cousin's duty to make | |
curtsy and say "Father, as it please you." But yet for | |
all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or | |
else make another curtsy and say "Father, as it | |
please me." | |
LEONATO Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted | |
with a husband. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
LEONATO, [to Hero] Daughter, remember what I told | |
you. If the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you | |
know your answer. | |
BEATRICE 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 cinquepace. 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 cinquepace faster | |
and faster till he sink into his grave. | |
LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. | |
BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church | |
by daylight. | |
LEONATO The revelers are entering, brother. Make | |
good room. [Leonato and his brother step aside.] | |
[Enter, with a Drum, Prince Pedro, Claudio, and | |
Benedick, Signior Antonio, and Balthasar, all in | |
masks, with Borachio and Don John.] | |
PRINCE, [to Hero] Lady, will you walk a bout with your | |
friend? [They begin to dance.] | |
HERO So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say | |
nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially | |
when I walk away. | |
PRINCE With me in your company? | |
HERO I may say so when I please. | |
PRINCE And when please you to say so? | |
HERO When I like your favor, for God defend the lute | |
should be like the case. | |
PRINCE My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house | |
is Jove. | |
HERO Why, then, your visor should be thatched. | |
PRINCE Speak low if you speak love. | |
[They move aside; | |
Benedick and Margaret move forward.] | |
BENEDICK, [to Margaret] Well, I would you did like me. | |
MARGARET So would not I for your own sake, for I have | |
many ill qualities. | |
BENEDICK Which is one? | |
MARGARET I say my prayers aloud. | |
BENEDICK I love you the better; the hearers may cry | |
"Amen." | |
MARGARET God match me with a good dancer. | |
[They separate; Benedick moves aside; | |
Balthasar moves forward.] | |
BALTHASAR Amen. | |
MARGARET And God keep him out of my sight when the | |
dance is done. Answer, clerk. | |
BALTHASAR No more words. The clerk is answered. | |
[They move aside; | |
Ursula and Antonio move forward.] | |
URSULA I know you well enough. You are Signior | |
Antonio. | |
ANTONIO At a word, I am not. | |
URSULA I know you by the waggling of your head. | |
ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him. | |
URSULA 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. | |
ANTONIO At a word, I am not. | |
URSULA 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. | |
[They move aside; | |
Benedick and Beatrice move forward.] | |
BEATRICE Will you not tell me who told you so? | |
BENEDICK No, you shall pardon me. | |
BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me who you are? | |
BENEDICK Not now. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
BENEDICK What's he? | |
BEATRICE I am sure you know him well enough. | |
BENEDICK Not I, believe me. | |
BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh? | |
BENEDICK I pray you, what is he? | |
BEATRICE 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 villainy, for he | |
both pleases 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. | |
BENEDICK When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him | |
what you say. | |
BEATRICE 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 for the dance.] We must | |
follow the leaders. | |
BENEDICK In every good thing. | |
BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them | |
at the next turning. | |
[Dance. Then exit all except | |
Don John, Borachio, and Claudio.] | |
DON JOHN, [to Borachio] 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. | |
BORACHIO And that is Claudio. I know him by his | |
bearing. | |
DON JOHN, [to Claudio] Are not you Signior Benedick? | |
CLAUDIO You know me well. I am he. | |
DON JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in his | |
love. He is enamored 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. | |
CLAUDIO How know you he loves her? | |
DON JOHN I heard him swear his affection. | |
BORACHIO So did I too, and he swore he would marry | |
her tonight. | |
DON JOHN Come, let us to the banquet. | |
[They exit. Claudio remains.] | |
CLAUDIO, [unmasking] | |
Thus answer I in name of Benedick, | |
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. | |
'Tis 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 negotiate 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. | |
[Enter Benedick.] | |
BENEDICK Count Claudio? | |
CLAUDIO Yea, the same. | |
BENEDICK Come, will you go with me? | |
CLAUDIO Whither? | |
BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own | |
business, county. 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. | |
CLAUDIO I wish him joy of her. | |
BENEDICK Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so | |
they sell bullocks. But did you think the Prince | |
would have served you thus? | |
CLAUDIO I pray you, leave me. | |
BENEDICK Ho, now you strike like the blind man. | |
'Twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat | |
the post. | |
CLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you. [He exits.] | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
[Enter the Prince, Hero, and Leonato.] | |
PRINCE Now, signior, where's the Count? Did you see | |
him? | |
BENEDICK 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 goodwill 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 up a rod, as being worthy to | |
be whipped. | |
PRINCE To be whipped? What's his fault? | |
BENEDICK The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, | |
being overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it | |
his companion, and he steals it. | |
PRINCE Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The | |
transgression is in the stealer. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
PRINCE I will but teach them to sing and restore them | |
to the owner. | |
BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my | |
faith, you say honestly. | |
PRINCE The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The | |
gentleman that danced with her told her she is | |
much wronged by you. | |
BENEDICK 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, 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. | |
[Enter Claudio and Beatrice.] | |
PRINCE Look, here she comes. | |
BENEDICK 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 | |
furthest 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? | |
PRINCE None but to desire your good company. | |
BENEDICK O God, sir, here's a dish I love not! I cannot | |
endure my Lady Tongue. [He exits.] | |
PRINCE, [to Beatrice] Come, lady, come, you have lost | |
the heart of Signior Benedick. | |
BEATRICE Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I | |
gave him use for it, a double heart for his single | |
one. Marry, once before he won it of me with false | |
dice. Therefore your Grace may well say I have lost | |
it. | |
PRINCE You have put him down, lady, you have put | |
him down. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
PRINCE Why, how now, count, wherefore are you sad? | |
CLAUDIO Not sad, my lord. | |
PRINCE How then, sick? | |
CLAUDIO Neither, my lord. | |
BEATRICE The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, | |
nor well, but civil count, civil as an orange, and | |
something of that jealous complexion. | |
PRINCE 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 goodwill obtained. Name the day of marriage, | |
and God give thee joy. | |
LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her | |
my fortunes. His Grace hath made the match, and | |
all grace say "Amen" to it. | |
BEATRICE Speak, count, 'tis your cue. | |
CLAUDIO 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. | |
BEATRICE Speak, cousin, or, if you cannot, stop his | |
mouth with a kiss and let not him speak neither. | |
PRINCE In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin. | |
BEATRICE Good Lord for alliance! Thus goes everyone | |
to the world but I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a | |
corner and cry "Heigh-ho for a husband!" | |
PRINCE Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
PRINCE Will you have me, lady? | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
PRINCE Your silence most offends me, and to be merry | |
best becomes you, for out o' question you were | |
born in a merry hour. | |
BEATRICE 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! | |
LEONATO Niece, will you look to those things I told | |
you of? | |
BEATRICE I cry you mercy, uncle.--By your Grace's | |
pardon. [Beatrice exits.] | |
PRINCE By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. | |
LEONATO 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. | |
PRINCE She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. | |
LEONATO O, by no means. She mocks all her wooers | |
out of suit. | |
PRINCE She were an excellent wife for Benedick. | |
LEONATO O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week | |
married, they would talk themselves mad. | |
PRINCE County Claudio, when mean you to go to | |
church? | |
CLAUDIO Tomorrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches | |
till love have all his rites. | |
LEONATO Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence | |
a just sevennight, and a time too brief, too, to have | |
all things answer my mind. | |
PRINCE, [to Claudio] Come, you shake the head at so | |
long a breathing, but I warrant thee, Claudio, the | |
time shall not go dully by us. I will in the interim | |
undertake one of Hercules' labors, which is to bring | |
Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a | |
mountain of affection, th' one with th' 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. | |
LEONATO My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten | |
nights' watchings. | |
CLAUDIO And I, my lord. | |
PRINCE And you too, gentle Hero? | |
HERO I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my | |
cousin to a good husband. | |
PRINCE And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband | |
that I know. Thus far can I praise him: he is of | |
a noble strain, of approved valor, and confirmed | |
honesty. I will teach you how to humor your | |
cousin that she shall fall in love with Benedick.-- | |
And I, with your two helps, will so practice 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. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 2 | |
======= | |
[Enter Don John and Borachio.] | |
DON JOHN It is so. The Count Claudio shall marry the | |
daughter of Leonato. | |
BORACHIO Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. | |
DON JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be | |
med'cinable 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? | |
BORACHIO Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that | |
no dishonesty shall appear in me. | |
DON JOHN Show me briefly how. | |
BORACHIO I think I told your Lordship a year since, | |
how much I am in the favor of Margaret, the | |
waiting gentlewoman to Hero. | |
DON JOHN I remember. | |
BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the | |
night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber | |
window. | |
DON JOHN What life is in that to be the death of this | |
marriage? | |
BORACHIO 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 honor in marrying | |
the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you | |
mightily hold up, to a contaminated stale, such a | |
one as Hero. | |
DON JOHN What proof shall I make of that? | |
BORACHIO Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex | |
Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you | |
for any other issue? | |
DON JOHN Only to despite them I will endeavor | |
anything. | |
BORACHIO 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 love of your | |
brother's honor, 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 meantime | |
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. | |
DON 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. | |
BORACHIO Be you constant in the accusation, and my | |
cunning shall not shame me. | |
DON JOHN I will presently go learn their day of | |
marriage. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 3 | |
======= | |
[Enter Benedick alone.] | |
BENEDICK Boy! | |
[Enter Boy.] | |
BOY Signior? | |
BENEDICK In my chamber window lies a book. Bring it | |
hither to me in the orchard. | |
BOY I am here already, sir. | |
BENEDICK I know that, but I would have thee hence | |
and here again. [Boy exits.] | |
I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much | |
another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors | |
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 armor, 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 orthography; | |
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 color it please God. Ha! The Prince and | |
Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbor. | |
[He hides.] | |
[Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthasar | |
with music.] | |
PRINCE Come, shall we hear this music? | |
CLAUDIO | |
Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, | |
As hushed on purpose to grace harmony! | |
PRINCE, [aside to Claudio] | |
See you where Benedick hath hid himself? | |
CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince] | |
O, very well my lord. The music ended, | |
We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth. | |
PRINCE | |
Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again. | |
BALTHASAR | |
O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice | |
To slander music any more than once. | |
PRINCE | |
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. | |
BALTHASAR | |
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. | |
PRINCE Nay, pray thee, come, | |
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, | |
Do it in notes. | |
BALTHASAR Note this before my notes: | |
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. | |
PRINCE | |
Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks! | |
Note notes, forsooth, and nothing. [Music plays.] | |
BENEDICK, [aside] Now, divine air! Now is his soul | |
ravished. Is it not strange that sheeps' guts should | |
hale souls out of men's bodies? Well, a horn for my | |
money, when all's done. | |
BALTHASAR [sings] | |
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. | |
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, but let them go, | |
And be you blithe and bonny, | |
Converting all your sounds of woe | |
Into Hey, nonny nonny. | |
PRINCE By my troth, a good song. | |
BALTHASAR And an ill singer, my lord. | |
PRINCE Ha, no, no, faith, thou sing'st well enough for a | |
shift. | |
BENEDICK, [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. | |
PRINCE Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray | |
thee get us some excellent music, for tomorrow | |
night we would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber | |
window. | |
BALTHASAR The best I can, my lord. | |
PRINCE Do so. Farewell. [Balthasar exits.] | |
Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of | |
today, that your niece Beatrice was in love with | |
Signior Benedick? | |
CLAUDIO O, ay. [Aside to Prince.] Stalk on, stalk on; the | |
fowl sits.--I did never think that lady would have | |
loved any man. | |
LEONATO No, nor I neither, but most wonderful that | |
she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she | |
hath in all outward behaviors seemed ever to | |
abhor. | |
BENEDICK, [aside] Is 't possible? Sits the wind in that | |
corner? | |
LEONATO 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. | |
PRINCE Maybe she doth but counterfeit. | |
CLAUDIO Faith, like enough. | |
LEONATO O God! Counterfeit? There was never counterfeit | |
of passion came so near the life of passion as | |
she discovers it. | |
PRINCE Why, what effects of passion shows she? | |
CLAUDIO, [aside to Leonato] Bait the hook well; this fish | |
will bite. | |
LEONATO What effects, my lord? She will sit you--you | |
heard my daughter tell you how. | |
CLAUDIO She did indeed. | |
PRINCE How, how I pray you? You amaze me. I would | |
have thought her spirit had been invincible against | |
all assaults of affection. | |
LEONATO I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially | |
against Benedick. | |
BENEDICK, [aside] I should think this a gull but that the | |
white-bearded fellow speaks it. Knavery cannot, | |
sure, hide himself in such reverence. | |
CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince] He hath ta'en th' infection. | |
Hold it up. | |
PRINCE Hath she made her affection known to | |
Benedick? | |
LEONATO No, and swears she never will. That's her | |
torment. | |
CLAUDIO 'Tis 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?" | |
LEONATO 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. | |
CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember | |
a pretty jest your daughter told us of. | |
LEONATO O, when she had writ it and was reading it | |
over, she found "Benedick" and "Beatrice" between | |
the sheet? | |
CLAUDIO That. | |
LEONATO 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." | |
CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, | |
sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses: | |
"O sweet Benedick, God give me patience!" | |
LEONATO She doth indeed, my daughter says so, and | |
the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my | |
daughter is sometimes afeared she will do a desperate | |
outrage to herself. It is very true. | |
PRINCE It were good that Benedick knew of it by some | |
other, if she will not discover it. | |
CLAUDIO To what end? He would make but a sport of it | |
and torment the poor lady worse. | |
PRINCE An he should, it were an alms to hang him. | |
She's an excellent sweet lady, and, out of all suspicion, | |
she is virtuous. | |
CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise. | |
PRINCE In everything but in loving Benedick. | |
LEONATO 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. | |
PRINCE I would she had bestowed this dotage on me. I | |
would have daffed all other respects and made her | |
half myself. I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear | |
what he will say. | |
LEONATO Were it good, think you? | |
CLAUDIO 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. | |
PRINCE She doth well. If she should make tender of | |
her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it, for the man, | |
as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. | |
CLAUDIO He is a very proper man. | |
PRINCE He hath indeed a good outward happiness. | |
CLAUDIO Before God, and in my mind, very wise. | |
PRINCE He doth indeed show some sparks that are like | |
wit. | |
CLAUDIO And I take him to be valiant. | |
PRINCE As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing | |
of quarrels you may say he is wise, for either he | |
avoids them with great discretion or undertakes | |
them with a most Christianlike fear. | |
LEONATO 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. | |
PRINCE 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? | |
CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord, let her wear it out | |
with good counsel. | |
LEONATO Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her | |
heart out first. | |
PRINCE 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 so good a lady. | |
LEONATO My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready. | |
[Leonato, Prince, and Claudio begin to exit.] | |
CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince and Leonato] If he do not | |
dote on her upon this, I will never trust my | |
expectation. | |
PRINCE, [aside to Leonato] Let there be the same net | |
spread for her, and that must your daughter and her | |
gentlewomen 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. | |
[Prince, Leonato, and Claudio exit.] | |
BENEDICK, [coming forward] 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; 'tis a truth, I can | |
bear them witness. And virtuous; 'tis 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 humor? 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.] | |
BEATRICE Against my will, I am sent to bid you come | |
in to dinner. | |
BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message? | |
BEATRICE 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. [She exits.] | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
[He exits.] | |
ACT 3 | |
===== | |
Scene 1 | |
======= | |
[Enter Hero and two gentlewomen, Margaret and Ursula.] | |
HERO | |
Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor. | |
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 overheardst us, | |
And bid her steal into the pleached bower | |
Where honeysuckles ripened by the sun | |
Forbid the sun to enter, like favorites, | |
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. | |
MARGARET | |
I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. | |
[She exits.] | |
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, | |
For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs | |
Close by the ground, to hear our conference. | |
[Enter Beatrice, who hides in the bower.] | |
URSULA, [aside to Hero] | |
The pleasant'st 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, [aside to Ursula] | |
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing | |
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.-- | |
[They walk near the bower.] | |
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful. | |
I know her spirits are as coy and wild | |
As haggards of the rock. | |
URSULA But are you sure | |
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? | |
HERO | |
So says the Prince and my new-trothed lord. | |
URSULA | |
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 loved Benedick, | |
To wish him wrestle with affection | |
And never to let Beatrice know of it. | |
URSULA | |
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 framed 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. | |
URSULA 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 featured, | |
But she would spell him backward. If fair-faced, | |
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. | |
URSULA | |
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 covered fire, | |
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly. | |
It were a better death than die with mocks, | |
Which is as bad as die with tickling. | |
URSULA | |
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. | |
URSULA | |
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 prized 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. | |
URSULA | |
I pray you be not angry with me, madam, | |
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, | |
For shape, for bearing, argument, and valor, | |
Goes foremost in report through Italy. | |
HERO | |
Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. | |
URSULA | |
His excellence did earn it ere he had it. | |
When are you married, madam? | |
HERO | |
Why, every day, tomorrow. Come, go in. | |
I'll show thee some attires and have thy counsel | |
Which is the best to furnish me tomorrow. | |
[They move away from the bower.] | |
URSULA, [aside to Hero] | |
She's limed, I warrant you. We have caught her, | |
madam. | |
HERO, [aside to Ursula] | |
If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; | |
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. | |
[Hero and Ursula exit.] | |
BEATRICE, [coming forward] | |
What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? | |
Stand I condemned 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. | |
[She exits.] | |
Scene 2 | |
======= | |
[Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.] | |
PRINCE I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, | |
and then go I toward Aragon. | |
CLAUDIO I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe | |
me. | |
PRINCE 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. | |
BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been. | |
LEONATO So say I. Methinks you are sadder. | |
CLAUDIO I hope he be in love. | |
PRINCE Hang him, truant! There's no true drop of | |
blood in him to be truly touched with love. If he be | |
sad, he wants money. | |
BENEDICK I have the toothache. | |
PRINCE Draw it. | |
BENEDICK Hang it! | |
CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. | |
PRINCE What, sigh for the toothache? | |
LEONATO Where is but a humor or a worm. | |
BENEDICK Well, everyone can master a grief but he | |
that has it. | |
CLAUDIO Yet say I, he is in love. | |
PRINCE There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless | |
it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to | |
be a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow, 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. | |
CLAUDIO 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? | |
PRINCE Hath any man seen him at the barber's? | |
CLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen | |
with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath | |
already stuffed tennis balls. | |
LEONATO Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the | |
loss of a beard. | |
PRINCE Nay, he rubs himself with civet. Can you smell | |
him out by that? | |
CLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in | |
love. | |
PRINCE The greatest note of it is his melancholy. | |
CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face? | |
PRINCE Yea, or to paint himself? For the which I hear | |
what they say of him. | |
CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept | |
into a lute string and now governed by stops-- | |
PRINCE Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, | |
conclude, he is in love. | |
CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him. | |
PRINCE That would I know, too. I warrant, one that | |
knows him not. | |
CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of | |
all, dies for him. | |
PRINCE She shall be buried with her face upwards. | |
BENEDICK Yet is this no charm for the toothache.-- | |
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. | |
[Benedick and Leonato exit.] | |
PRINCE For my life, to break with him about Beatrice! | |
CLAUDIO 'Tis 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 John the Bastard.] | |
DON JOHN My lord and brother, God save you. | |
PRINCE Good e'en, brother. | |
DON JOHN If your leisure served, I would speak with | |
you. | |
PRINCE In private? | |
DON JOHN If it please you. Yet Count Claudio may | |
hear, for what I would speak of concerns him. | |
PRINCE What's the matter? | |
DON JOHN, [to Claudio] Means your Lordship to be | |
married tomorrow? | |
PRINCE You know he does. | |
DON JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I | |
know. | |
CLAUDIO If there be any impediment, I pray you discover | |
it. | |
DON 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 | |
labor ill bestowed. | |
PRINCE Why, what's the matter? | |
DON JOHN I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances | |
shortened, for she has been too long | |
a-talking of, the lady is disloyal. | |
CLAUDIO Who, Hero? | |
DON JOHN Even she: Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every | |
man's Hero. | |
CLAUDIO Disloyal? | |
DON 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 it. Wonder not | |
till further warrant. Go but with me tonight, you | |
shall see her chamber window entered, even the | |
night before her wedding day. If you love her then, | |
tomorrow wed her. But it would better fit your | |
honor to change your mind. | |
CLAUDIO, [to Prince] May this be so? | |
PRINCE I will not think it. | |
DON 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. | |
CLAUDIO If I see anything tonight why I should not | |
marry her, tomorrow in the congregation, where I | |
should wed, there will I shame her. | |
PRINCE And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will | |
join with thee to disgrace her. | |
DON JOHN I will disparage her no farther till you are | |
my witnesses. Bear it coldly but till midnight, and | |
let the issue show itself. | |
PRINCE O day untowardly turned! | |
CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting! | |
DON JOHN O plague right well prevented! So will you | |
say when you have seen the sequel. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 3 | |
======= | |
[Enter Dogberry and his compartner Verges | |
with the Watch.] | |
DOGBERRY Are you good men and true? | |
VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer | |
salvation, body and soul. | |
DOGBERRY Nay, that were a punishment too good for | |
them if they should have any allegiance in them, | |
being chosen for the Prince's watch. | |
VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbor | |
Dogberry. | |
DOGBERRY First, who think you the most desartless | |
man to be constable? | |
FIRST WATCHMAN Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal, | |
for they can write and read. | |
DOGBERRY Come hither, neighbor Seacoal. [Seacoal | |
steps forward.] God hath blessed you with a good | |
name. To be a well-favored man is the gift of | |
fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. | |
SEACOAL Both which, master constable-- | |
DOGBERRY You have. I knew it would be your answer. | |
Well, for your favor, 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. | |
SEACOAL How if he will not stand? | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
VERGES If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is | |
none of the Prince's subjects. | |
DOGBERRY 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 | |
to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured. | |
SECOND WATCHMAN We will rather sleep than talk. | |
We know what belongs to a watch. | |
DOGBERRY 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 alehouses and | |
bid those that are drunk get them to bed. | |
SEACOAL How if they will not? | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
SEACOAL Well, sir. | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
SEACOAL If we know him to be a thief, shall we not | |
lay hands on him? | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
VERGES You have been always called a merciful man, | |
partner. | |
DOGBERRY Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, | |
much more a man who hath any honesty in him. | |
VERGES, [to the Watch] If you hear a child cry in the | |
night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. | |
SECOND WATCHMAN How if the nurse be asleep and | |
will not hear us? | |
DOGBERRY Why, then depart in peace, and let the | |
child wake her with crying, for the ewe that will | |
not hear her lamb when it baas will never answer a | |
calf when he bleats. | |
VERGES 'Tis very true. | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
VERGES Nay, by 'r Lady, that I think he cannot. | |
DOGBERRY 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 offense to stay a | |
man against his will. | |
VERGES By 'r Lady, I think it be so. | |
DOGBERRY Ha, ah ha!--Well, masters, goodnight. An | |
there be any matter of weight chances, call up me. | |
Keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and | |
goodnight.--Come, neighbor. | |
[Dogberry and Verges begin to exit.] | |
SEACOAL Well, masters, we hear our charge. Let us go | |
sit here upon the church bench till two, and then all | |
to bed. | |
DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbors. I pray | |
you watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the | |
wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil | |
tonight. Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you. | |
[Dogberry and Verges exit.] | |
[Enter Borachio and Conrade.] | |
BORACHIO What, Conrade! | |
SEACOAL, [aside] Peace, stir not. | |
BORACHIO Conrade, I say! | |
CONRADE Here, man, I am at thy elbow. | |
BORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itched, I thought there | |
would a scab follow. | |
CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that. And now | |
forward with thy tale. | |
BORACHIO Stand thee close, then, under this penthouse, | |
for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true | |
drunkard, utter all to thee. | |
SEACOAL, [aside] Some treason, masters. Yet stand | |
close. | |
BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don | |
John a thousand ducats. | |
CONRADE Is it possible that any villainy should be so | |
dear? | |
BORACHIO Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible | |
any villainy should be so rich. For when rich | |
villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may | |
make what price they will. | |
CONRADE I wonder at it. | |
BORACHIO That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou | |
knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a | |
cloak, is nothing to a man. | |
CONRADE Yes, it is apparel. | |
BORACHIO I mean the fashion. | |
CONRADE Yes, the fashion is the fashion. | |
BORACHIO Tush, I may as well say the fool's the fool. | |
But seest thou not what a deformed thief this | |
fashion is? | |
FIRST WATCHMAN, [aside] I know that Deformed. He | |
has been a vile thief this seven year. He goes up and | |
down like a gentleman. I remember his name. | |
BORACHIO Didst thou not hear somebody? | |
CONRADE No, 'twas the vane on the house. | |
BORACHIO 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, | |
sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers | |
in the reechy painting, sometimes like god Bel's | |
priests in the old church window, sometimes like | |
the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten | |
tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his | |
club? | |
CONRADE 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? | |
BORACHIO Not so, neither. But know that I have tonight | |
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 goodnight. 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 | |
amiable encounter. | |
CONRADE And thought they Margaret was Hero? | |
BORACHIO 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 villainy, 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'ernight and send her home again | |
without a husband. | |
FIRST WATCHMAN We charge you in the Prince's name | |
stand! | |
SEACOAL Call up the right Master Constable. [Second | |
Watchman exits.] We have here recovered the most | |
dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in | |
the commonwealth. | |
FIRST WATCHMAN And one Deformed is one of them. I | |
know him; he wears a lock. | |
[Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Second Watchman.] | |
DOGBERRY Masters, masters-- | |
FIRST WATCHMAN, [to Borachio] You'll be made bring | |
Deformed forth, I warrant you. | |
DOGBERRY, [to Borachio and Conrade] Masters, never | |
speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. | |
BORACHIO, [to Conrade] We are like to prove a goodly | |
commodity, being taken up of these men's bills. | |
CONRADE A commodity in question, I warrant you.-- | |
Come, we'll obey you. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 4 | |
======= | |
[Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Ursula.] | |
HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and | |
desire her to rise. | |
URSULA I will, lady. | |
HERO And bid her come hither. | |
URSULA Well. [Ursula exits.] | |
MARGARET Troth, I think your other rebato were | |
better. | |
HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. | |
MARGARET By my troth, '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. | |
MARGARET 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. | |
MARGARET By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect | |
of yours--cloth o' gold, and cuts, and laced with | |
silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, | |
and skirts round underborne with a bluish 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. | |
MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a | |
man. | |
HERO Fie upon thee! Art not ashamed? | |
MARGARET Of what, lady? Of speaking honorably? Is | |
not marriage honorable in a beggar? Is not your | |
lord honorable 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, 'tis light and | |
not heavy. Ask my lady Beatrice else. Here she | |
comes. | |
[Enter Beatrice.] | |
HERO Good morrow, coz. | |
BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. | |
HERO Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune? | |
BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. | |
MARGARET Clap 's into "Light o' love." That goes | |
without a burden. Do you sing it, and I'll dance it. | |
BEATRICE You light o' love with your heels! Then, if | |
your husband have stables enough, you'll see he | |
shall lack no barns. | |
MARGARET O, illegitimate construction! I scorn that | |
with my heels. | |
BEATRICE 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin. 'Tis time | |
you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill. | |
Heigh-ho! | |
MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? | |
BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H. | |
MARGARET Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no | |
more sailing by the star. | |
BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? | |
MARGARET Nothing, I; but God send everyone their | |
heart's desire. | |
HERO These gloves the Count sent me, they are an | |
excellent perfume. | |
BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin. I cannot smell. | |
MARGARET A maid, and stuffed! There's goodly catching | |
of cold. | |
BEATRICE O, God help me, God help me! How long | |
have you professed apprehension? | |
MARGARET Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit | |
become me rarely? | |
BEATRICE It is not seen enough; you should wear it in | |
your cap. By my troth, I am sick. | |
MARGARET 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. | |
BEATRICE Benedictus! Why benedictus? You have some | |
moral in this benedictus? | |
MARGARET 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. | |
BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? | |
MARGARET Not a false gallop. | |
[Enter Ursula.] | |
URSULA 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. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 5 | |
======= | |
[Enter Leonato, and Dogberry, the Constable, and | |
Verges, the Headborough.] | |
LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbor? | |
DOGBERRY Marry, sir, I would have some confidence | |
with you that decerns you nearly. | |
LEONATO Brief, I pray you, for you see it is a busy time | |
with me. | |
DOGBERRY Marry, this it is, sir. | |
VERGES Yes, in truth, it is, sir. | |
LEONATO What is it, my good friends? | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
VERGES Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man | |
living that is an old man and no honester than I. | |
DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbor | |
Verges. | |
LEONATO Neighbors, you are tedious. | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ah? | |
DOGBERRY Yea, an 'twere a thousand pound more | |
than 'tis, 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. | |
VERGES And so am I. | |
LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. | |
VERGES Marry, sir, our watch tonight, excepting your | |
Worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant | |
knaves as any in Messina. | |
DOGBERRY 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, | |
neighbor 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 worshiped, all men | |
are not alike, alas, good neighbor. | |
LEONATO Indeed, neighbor, he comes too short of you. | |
DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives. | |
LEONATO I must leave you. | |
DOGBERRY One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have indeed | |
comprehended two aspicious persons, and we | |
would have them this morning examined before | |
your Worship. | |
LEONATO Take their examination yourself and bring it | |
me. I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto | |
you. | |
DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. | |
LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well. | |
[Enter a Messenger.] | |
MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your | |
daughter to her husband. | |
LEONATO I'll wait upon them. I am ready. | |
[He exits, with the Messenger.] | |
DOGBERRY Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis | |
Seacoal. Bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the | |
jail. We are now to examination these men. | |
VERGES And we must do it wisely. | |
DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. | |
Here's that shall drive some of them to a noncome. | |
Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication | |
and meet me at the jail. | |
[They exit.] | |
ACT 4 | |
===== | |
Scene 1 | |
======= | |
[Enter Prince, John the Bastard, Leonato, Friar, | |
Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, with | |
Attendants.] | |
LEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief, only to the | |
plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their | |
particular duties afterwards. | |
FRIAR, [to Claudio] You come hither, my lord, to marry | |
this lady? | |
CLAUDIO No. | |
LEONATO 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. | |
CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? | |
HERO None, my lord. | |
FRIAR Know you any, count? | |
LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. | |
CLAUDIO O, what men dare do! What men may do! | |
What men daily do, not knowing what they do! | |
BENEDICK How now, interjections? Why, then, some | |
be of laughing, as ah, ha, he! | |
CLAUDIO | |
Stand thee by, friar.--Father, by your leave, | |
Will you with free and unconstrained soul | |
Give me this maid, your daughter? | |
LEONATO | |
As freely, son, as God did give her me. | |
CLAUDIO | |
And what have I to give you back whose worth | |
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? | |
PRINCE | |
Nothing, unless you render her again. | |
CLAUDIO | |
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 honor. | |
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. | |
LEONATO | |
What do you mean, my lord? | |
CLAUDIO Not to be married, | |
Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. | |
LEONATO | |
Dear my lord, if you in your own proof | |
Have vanquished the resistance of her youth, | |
And made defeat of her virginity-- | |
CLAUDIO | |
I know what you would say: if I have known her, | |
You will 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, showed | |
Bashful sincerity and comely love. | |
HERO | |
And seemed I ever otherwise to you? | |
CLAUDIO | |
Out on thee, 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 pampered animals | |
That rage in savage sensuality. | |
HERO | |
Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide? | |
LEONATO | |
Sweet prince, why speak not you? | |
PRINCE What should I | |
speak? | |
I stand dishonored that have gone about | |
To link my dear friend to a common stale. | |
LEONATO | |
Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? | |
DON JOHN | |
Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. | |
BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial. | |
HERO True! O God! | |
CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? | |
Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother? | |
Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own? | |
LEONATO | |
All this is so, but what of this, my lord? | |
CLAUDIO | |
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. | |
LEONATO | |
I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. | |
HERO | |
O, God defend me, how am I beset!-- | |
What kind of catechizing call you this? | |
CLAUDIO | |
To make you answer truly to your name. | |
HERO | |
Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name | |
With any just reproach? | |
CLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero! | |
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. | |
What man was he talked with you yesternight | |
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? | |
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. | |
HERO | |
I talked with no man at that hour, my lord. | |
PRINCE | |
Why, then, are you no maiden.--Leonato, | |
I am sorry you must hear. Upon mine honor, | |
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, | |
Confessed the vile encounters they have had | |
A thousand times in secret. | |
DON JOHN | |
Fie, fie, they are not to be named, my lord, | |
Not to be spoke of! | |
There is not chastity enough in language, | |
Without offense, to utter them.--Thus, pretty lady, | |
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. | |
CLAUDIO | |
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. | |
LEONATO | |
Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? | |
[Hero falls.] | |
BEATRICE | |
Why, how now, cousin, wherefore sink you down? | |
DON JOHN | |
Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, | |
Smother her spirits up. | |
[Claudio, Prince, and Don John exit.] | |
BENEDICK | |
How doth the lady? | |
BEATRICE Dead, I think.--Help, uncle!-- | |
Hero, why Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! | |
LEONATO | |
O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand! | |
Death is the fairest cover for her shame | |
That may be wished for. | |
BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero? [Hero stirs.] | |
FRIAR, [to Hero] Have comfort, lady. | |
LEONATO, [to Hero] | |
Dost thou look up? | |
FRIAR Yea, wherefore should she not? | |
LEONATO | |
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. Grieved I I had but one? | |
Chid 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 loved, and mine I praised, | |
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 fall'n | |
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! | |
BENEDICK Sir, sir, be patient. | |
For my part, I am so attired in wonder | |
I know not what to say. | |
BEATRICE | |
O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! | |
BENEDICK | |
Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? | |
BEATRICE | |
No, truly not, although until last night | |
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. | |
LEONATO | |
Confirmed, confirmed! O, that is stronger made | |
Which was before barred up with ribs of iron! | |
Would the two princes lie and Claudio lie, | |
Who loved her so that, speaking of her foulness, | |
Washed it with tears? Hence from her. Let her die! | |
FRIAR Hear me a little, | |
For I have only silent been so long, | |
And given way unto this course of fortune, | |
By noting of the lady. I have marked | |
A thousand blushing apparitions | |
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames | |
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes, | |
And in her eye there hath appeared 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 tenor of my book; trust not my age, | |
My reverence, calling, nor divinity, | |
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here | |
Under some biting error. | |
LEONATO 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 accused 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 conversed | |
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight | |
Maintained the change of words with any creature, | |
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death! | |
FRIAR | |
There is some strange misprision in the princes. | |
BENEDICK | |
Two of them have the very bent of honor, | |
And if their wisdoms be misled in this, | |
The practice of it lives in John the Bastard, | |
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies. | |
LEONATO | |
I know not. If they speak but truth of her, | |
These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honor, | |
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, awaked 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. | |
LEONATO | |
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 maintained, | |
Upon the instant that she was accused, | |
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused | |
Of every hearer. For it so falls out | |
That what we have we prize not to the worth | |
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked 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, | |
Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep | |
Into his study of imagination, | |
And every lovely organ of her life | |
Shall come appareled in more precious habit, | |
More moving, delicate, and full of life, | |
Into the eye and prospect of his soul, | |
Than when she lived 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 leveled 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. | |
BENEDICK | |
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 honor, I will deal in this | |
As secretly and justly as your soul | |
Should with your body. | |
LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, | |
The smallest twine may lead me. | |
FRIAR | |
'Tis well consented. Presently away, | |
For to strange sores strangely they strain the | |
cure.-- | |
Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day | |
Perhaps is but prolonged. Have patience and | |
endure. | |
[All but Beatrice and Benedick exit.] | |
BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? | |
BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. | |
BENEDICK I will not desire that. | |
BEATRICE You have no reason. I do it freely. | |
BENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is | |
wronged. | |
BEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me | |
that would right her! | |
BENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship? | |
BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. | |
BENEDICK May a man do it? | |
BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours. | |
BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as | |
you. Is not that strange? | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me! | |
BEATRICE Do not swear and eat it. | |
BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me, and I will | |
make him eat it that says I love not you. | |
BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? | |
BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devised to it. I | |
protest I love thee. | |
BEATRICE Why then, God forgive me. | |
BENEDICK What offense, sweet Beatrice? | |
BEATRICE You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was | |
about to protest I loved you. | |
BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. | |
BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart that | |
none is left to protest. | |
BENEDICK Come, bid me do anything for thee. | |
BEATRICE Kill Claudio. | |
BENEDICK Ha! Not for the wide world. | |
BEATRICE You kill me to deny it. Farewell. | |
[She begins to exit.] | |
BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. | |
BEATRICE I am gone, though I am here. There is no | |
love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go. | |
BENEDICK Beatrice-- | |
BEATRICE In faith, I will go. | |
BENEDICK We'll be friends first. | |
BEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me than | |
fight with mine enemy. | |
BENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy? | |
BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain | |
that hath slandered, scorned, dishonored 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 | |
rancor--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his | |
heart in the marketplace. | |
BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice-- | |
BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window! A proper | |
saying. | |
BENEDICK Nay, but Beatrice-- | |
BEATRICE Sweet Hero, she is wronged, she is slandered, | |
she is undone. | |
BENEDICK Beat-- | |
BEATRICE Princes and counties! Surely a princely testimony, | |
a goodly count, Count Comfect, 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 curtsies, valor 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. | |
BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love | |
thee. | |
BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than | |
swearing by it. | |
BENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio | |
hath wronged Hero? | |
BEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 2 | |
======= | |
[Enter the Constables Dogberry and Verges, and the | |
Town Clerk, or Sexton, in gowns, with the Watch, | |
Conrade, and Borachio.] | |
DOGBERRY Is our whole dissembly appeared? | |
VERGES O, a stool and a cushion for the Sexton. | |
[A stool is brought in; the Sexton sits.] | |
SEXTON Which be the malefactors? | |
DOGBERRY Marry, that am I, and my partner. | |
VERGES 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. | |
DOGBERRY Yea, marry, let them come before me. | |
[Conrade and Borachio are brought forward.] | |
What is your name, friend? | |
BORACHIO Borachio. | |
DOGBERRY Pray, write down "Borachio."--Yours, | |
sirrah? | |
CONRADE I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is | |
Conrade. | |
DOGBERRY Write down "Master Gentleman Conrade."-- | |
Masters, do you serve God? | |
BORACHIO/CONRADE Yea, sir, we hope. | |
DOGBERRY 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? | |
CONRADE Marry, sir, we say we are none. | |
DOGBERRY A marvelous 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. | |
BORACHIO Sir, I say to you we are none. | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
DOGBERRY Yea, marry, that's the eftest way.--Let | |
the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you in the | |
Prince's name, accuse these men. | |
FIRST WATCHMAN This man said, sir, that Don John, the | |
Prince's brother, was a villain. | |
DOGBERRY Write down Prince John a villain. Why, | |
this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain! | |
BORACHIO Master constable-- | |
DOGBERRY Pray thee, fellow, peace. I do not like thy | |
look, I promise thee. | |
SEXTON, [to Watch] What heard you him say else? | |
SEACOAL Marry, that he had received a thousand | |
ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero | |
wrongfully. | |
DOGBERRY Flat burglary as ever was committed. | |
VERGES Yea, by Mass, that it is. | |
SEXTON What else, fellow? | |
FIRST WATCHMAN And that Count Claudio did mean, | |
upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole | |
assembly, and not marry her. | |
DOGBERRY, [to Borachio] O, villain! Thou wilt be condemned | |
into everlasting redemption for this! | |
SEXTON What else? | |
SEACOAL 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's. I will go before and show | |
him their examination. [He exits.] | |
DOGBERRY Come, let them be opinioned. | |
VERGES Let them be in the hands-- | |
CONRADE Off, coxcomb! | |
DOGBERRY God's my life, where's the Sexton? Let | |
him write down the Prince's officer "coxcomb." | |
Come, bind them.--Thou naughty varlet! | |
CONRADE Away! You are an ass, you are an ass! | |
DOGBERRY 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 is 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! | |
[They exit.] | |
ACT 5 | |
===== | |
Scene 1 | |
======= | |
[Enter Leonato and his brother.] | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself, | |
And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief | |
Against yourself. | |
LEONATO 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 loved his child, | |
Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, | |
And bid him speak 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, | |
Bid 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 med'cine to rage, | |
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, | |
Charm ache with air and agony with words. | |
No, no, 'tis 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. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Therein do men from children nothing differ. | |
LEONATO | |
I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood, | |
For there was never yet philosopher | |
That could endure the toothache patiently, | |
However they have writ the style of gods | |
And made a push at chance and sufferance. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself. | |
Make those that do offend you suffer too. | |
LEONATO | |
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 dishonor her. | |
[Enter Prince and Claudio.] | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. | |
PRINCE | |
Good e'en, good e'en. | |
CLAUDIO Good day to both of you. | |
LEONATO | |
Hear you, my lords-- | |
PRINCE We have some haste, | |
Leonato. | |
LEONATO | |
Some haste, my lord! Well, fare you well, my lord. | |
Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one. | |
PRINCE | |
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
If he could right himself with quarrelling, | |
Some of us would lie low. | |
CLAUDIO Who wrongs him? | |
LEONATO | |
Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou. | |
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword. | |
I fear thee not. | |
CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand | |
If it should give your age such cause of fear. | |
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. | |
LEONATO | |
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 wronged mine innocent child and me | |
That I am forced to lay my reverence by, | |
And with gray 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, framed by thy villainy. | |
CLAUDIO | |
My villainy? | |
LEONATO Thine, Claudio, thine, I say. | |
PRINCE | |
You say not right, old man. | |
LEONATO 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. | |
CLAUDIO | |
Away! I will not have to do with you. | |
LEONATO | |
Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast killed my child. | |
If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
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. | |
LEONATO Brother-- | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece, | |
And she is dead, slandered 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! | |
LEONATO Brother Anthony-- | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, | |
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple-- | |
Scambling, outfacing, fashionmonging boys, | |
That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, | |
Go anticly and show outward hideousness, | |
And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words | |
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, | |
And this is all. | |
LEONATO But brother Anthony-- | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER Come, 'tis no matter. | |
Do not you meddle. Let me deal in this. | |
PRINCE | |
Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. | |
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death, | |
But, on my honor, she was charged with nothing | |
But what was true and very full of proof. | |
LEONATO My lord, my lord-- | |
PRINCE I will not hear you. | |
LEONATO | |
No? Come, brother, away. I will be heard. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
And shall, or some of us will smart for it. | |
[Leonato and his brother exit.] | |
[Enter Benedick.] | |
PRINCE | |
See, see, here comes the man we went to seek. | |
CLAUDIO Now, signior, what news? | |
BENEDICK, [to Prince] Good day, my lord. | |
PRINCE Welcome, signior. You are almost come to | |
part almost a fray. | |
CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses | |
snapped off with two old men without teeth. | |
PRINCE Leonato and his brother. What think'st thou? | |
Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too | |
young for them. | |
BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valor. I | |
came to seek you both. | |
CLAUDIO 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? | |
BENEDICK It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it? | |
PRINCE Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? | |
CLAUDIO 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. | |
PRINCE As I am an honest man, he looks pale.--Art | |
thou sick, or angry? | |
CLAUDIO, [to Benedick] What, courage, man! What | |
though care killed a cat? Thou hast mettle enough | |
in thee to kill care. | |
BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an | |
you charge it against me. I pray you, choose another | |
subject. | |
CLAUDIO, [to Prince] Nay, then, give him another staff. | |
This last was broke 'cross. | |
PRINCE By this light, he changes more and more. I | |
think he be angry indeed. | |
CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. | |
BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear? | |
CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge! | |
BENEDICK, [aside to Claudio] 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. | |
CLAUDIO Well, I will meet you, so I may have good | |
cheer. | |
PRINCE What, a feast, a feast? | |
CLAUDIO 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? | |
BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. | |
PRINCE I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the | |
other day. I said thou hadst a fine wit. "True," said | |
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 | |
proper'st man in Italy. | |
CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily and said she | |
cared not. | |
PRINCE 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. | |
CLAUDIO All, all. And, moreover, God saw him when | |
he was hid in the garden. | |
PRINCE But when shall we set the savage bull's horns | |
on the sensible Benedick's head? | |
CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath: "Here dwells Benedick, | |
the married man"? | |
BENEDICK Fare you well, boy. You know my mind. I | |
will leave you now to your gossip-like humor. 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 Lackbeard there, he and | |
I shall meet, and till then peace be with him. | |
[Benedick exits.] | |
PRINCE He is in earnest. | |
CLAUDIO In most profound earnest, and, I'll warrant | |
you, for the love of Beatrice. | |
PRINCE And hath challenged thee? | |
CLAUDIO Most sincerely. | |
PRINCE What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his | |
doublet and hose and leaves off his wit! | |
CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape | |
a doctor to such a man. | |
PRINCE But soft you, let me be. Pluck up, my heart, | |
and be sad. Did he not say my brother was fled? | |
[Enter Constables Dogberry and Verges, and the Watch, | |
with Conrade and Borachio.] | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
PRINCE How now, two of my brother's men bound? | |
Borachio one! | |
CLAUDIO Hearken after their offense, my lord. | |
PRINCE Officers, what offense have these men done? | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
PRINCE First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I | |
ask thee what's their offense; sixth and lastly, why | |
they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay | |
to their charge. | |
CLAUDIO Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; | |
and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. | |
PRINCE, [to Borachio and Conrade] 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 offense? | |
BORACHIO 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 incensed 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 villainy | |
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. | |
PRINCE, [to Claudio] | |
Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? | |
CLAUDIO | |
I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it. | |
PRINCE, [to Borachio] | |
But did my brother set thee on to this? | |
BORACHIO Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of | |
it. | |
PRINCE | |
He is composed and framed of treachery, | |
And fled he is upon this villainy. | |
CLAUDIO | |
Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear | |
In the rare semblance that I loved it first. | |
DOGBERRY 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. | |
VERGES Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, | |
and the Sexton too. | |
[Enter Leonato, his brother, and the Sexton.] | |
LEONATO | |
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? | |
BORACHIO | |
If you would know your wronger, look on me. | |
LEONATO | |
Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killed | |
Mine innocent child? | |
BORACHIO Yea, even I alone. | |
LEONATO | |
No, not so, villain, thou beliest thyself. | |
Here stand a pair of honorable 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. | |
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. | |
CLAUDIO | |
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 sinned I not | |
But in mistaking. | |
PRINCE 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. | |
LEONATO | |
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 labor aught in sad invention, | |
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb | |
And sing it to her bones. Sing it tonight. | |
Tomorrow 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 giv'n her cousin, | |
And so dies my revenge. | |
CLAUDIO O, noble sir! | |
Your overkindness doth wring tears from me. | |
I do embrace your offer and dispose | |
For henceforth of poor Claudio. | |
LEONATO | |
Tomorrow then I will expect your coming. | |
Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man | |
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, | |
Who I believe was packed in all this wrong, | |
Hired to it by your brother. | |
BORACHIO 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. | |
DOGBERRY, [to Leonato] 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 | |
hardhearted and will lend nothing for God's sake. | |
Pray you, examine him upon that point. | |
LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. | |
DOGBERRY Your Worship speaks like a most thankful | |
and reverent youth, and I praise God for you. | |
LEONATO, [giving him money] There's for thy pains. | |
DOGBERRY God save the foundation. | |
LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I | |
thank thee. | |
DOGBERRY 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, neighbor. [Dogberry and Verges exit.] | |
LEONATO | |
Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Farewell, my lords. We look for you tomorrow. | |
PRINCE | |
We will not fail. | |
CLAUDIO Tonight I'll mourn with Hero. | |
LEONATO, [to Watch] | |
Bring you these fellows on.--We'll talk with | |
Margaret, | |
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 2 | |
======= | |
[Enter Benedick and Margaret.] | |
BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve | |
well at my hands by helping me to the speech of | |
Beatrice. | |
MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise | |
of my beauty? | |
BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man | |
living shall come over it, for in most comely truth | |
thou deservest it. | |
MARGARET To have no man come over me? Why, shall I | |
always keep below stairs? | |
BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's | |
mouth; it catches. | |
MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, | |
which hit but hurt not. | |
BENEDICK A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt | |
a woman. And so, I pray thee, call Beatrice. I give | |
thee the bucklers. | |
MARGARET Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our | |
own. | |
BENEDICK If you use them, Margaret, you must put in | |
the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous | |
weapons for maids. | |
MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I | |
think hath legs. | |
BENEDICK And therefore will come. | |
[Margaret exits.] | |
[Sings] The god of love | |
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 carpetmongers, | |
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 I cannot woo in festival terms. | |
[Enter Beatrice.] | |
Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called | |
thee? | |
BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. | |
BENEDICK O, stay but till then! | |
BEATRICE "Then" is spoken. Fare you well now. And | |
yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came, which is, | |
with knowing what hath passed between you and | |
Claudio. | |
BENEDICK Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss | |
thee. | |
BEATRICE Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is | |
but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome. Therefore | |
I will depart unkissed. | |
BENEDICK 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? | |
BEATRICE 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? | |
BENEDICK Suffer love! A good epithet. I do suffer love | |
indeed, for I love thee against my will. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
BENEDICK Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. | |
BEATRICE It appears not in this confession. There's not | |
one wise man among twenty that will praise | |
himself. | |
BENEDICK An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived | |
in the time of good neighbors. If a man do not erect | |
in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no | |
longer in monument than the bell rings and the | |
widow weeps. | |
BEATRICE And how long is that, think you? | |
BENEDICK Question: why, an hour in clamor 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? | |
BEATRICE Very ill. | |
BENEDICK And how do you? | |
BEATRICE Very ill, too. | |
BENEDICK Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I | |
leave you too, for here comes one in haste. | |
[Enter Ursula.] | |
URSULA 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? | |
[Ursula exits.] | |
BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, signior? | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 3 | |
======= | |
[Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or four Lords with | |
tapers, and Musicians.] | |
CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato? | |
FIRST LORD It is, my lord. | |
CLAUDIO, [reading an Epitaph.] | |
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. | |
[He hangs up the scroll.] | |
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, | |
Heavily, heavily. | |
CLAUDIO | |
Now, unto thy bones, goodnight. | |
Yearly will I do this rite. | |
PRINCE | |
Good morrow, masters. Put your torches out. | |
The wolves have preyed, and look, the gentle day | |
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about | |
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray. | |
Thanks to you all, and leave us. Fare you well. | |
CLAUDIO | |
Good morrow, masters. Each his several way. | |
[Lords and Musicians exit.] | |
PRINCE | |
Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds, | |
And then to Leonato's we will go. | |
CLAUDIO | |
And Hymen now with luckier issue speed 's, | |
Than this for whom we rendered up this woe. | |
[They exit.] | |
Scene 4 | |
======= | |
[Enter Leonato, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, | |
Leonato's brother, Friar, Hero.] | |
FRIAR | |
Did I not tell you she was innocent? | |
LEONATO | |
So are the Prince and Claudio, who accused 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. | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Well, I am glad that all things sorts so well. | |
BENEDICK | |
And so am I, being else by faith enforced | |
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. | |
LEONATO | |
Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, | |
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, | |
And when I send for you, come hither masked. | |
The Prince and Claudio promised 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. [The ladies exit.] | |
LEONATO'S BROTHER | |
Which I will do with confirmed countenance. | |
BENEDICK | |
Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. | |
FRIAR To do what, signior? | |
BENEDICK | |
To bind me, or undo me, one of them.-- | |
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, | |
Your niece regards me with an eye of favor. | |
LEONATO | |
That eye my daughter lent her; 'tis most true. | |
BENEDICK | |
And I do with an eye of love requite her. | |
LEONATO | |
The sight whereof I think you had from me, | |
From Claudio, and the Prince. But what's your will? | |
BENEDICK | |
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical. | |
But for my will, my will is your goodwill | |
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined | |
In the state of honorable marriage-- | |
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. | |
LEONATO | |
My heart is with your liking. | |
FRIAR And my help. | |
Here comes the Prince and Claudio. | |
[Enter Prince, and Claudio, and two or three other.] | |
PRINCE Good morrow to this fair assembly. | |
LEONATO | |
Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio. | |
We here attend you. Are you yet determined | |
Today to marry with my brother's daughter? | |
CLAUDIO | |
I'll hold my mind were she an Ethiope. | |
LEONATO | |
Call her forth, brother. Here's the Friar ready. | |
[Leonato's brother exits.] | |
PRINCE | |
Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter | |
That you have such a February face, | |
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? | |
CLAUDIO | |
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. | |
BENEDICK | |
Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low, | |
And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow | |
And got a calf in that same noble feat | |
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. | |
CLAUDIO | |
For this I owe you. Here comes other reck'nings. | |
[Enter Leonato's brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, | |
Ursula, the ladies masked.] | |
Which is the lady I must seize upon? | |
LEONATO | |
This same is she, and I do give you her. | |
CLAUDIO | |
Why, then, she's mine.--Sweet, let me see your face. | |
LEONATO | |
No, that you shall not till you take her hand | |
Before this friar and swear to marry her. | |
CLAUDIO, [to Hero] | |
Give me your hand before this holy friar. | |
[They take hands.] | |
I am your husband, if you like of me. | |
HERO | |
And when I lived, I was your other wife, | |
And when you loved, you were my other husband. | |
[She unmasks.] | |
CLAUDIO | |
Another Hero! | |
HERO Nothing certainer. | |
One Hero died defiled, but I do live, | |
And surely as I live, I am a maid. | |
PRINCE | |
The former Hero! Hero that is dead! | |
LEONATO | |
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. | |
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. | |
BENEDICK | |
Soft and fair, friar.--Which is Beatrice? | |
BEATRICE, [unmasking] | |
I answer to that name. What is your will? | |
BENEDICK | |
Do not you love me? | |
BEATRICE Why no, no more than reason. | |
BENEDICK | |
Why then, your uncle and the Prince and Claudio | |
Have been deceived. They swore you did. | |
BEATRICE | |
Do not you love me? | |
BENEDICK Troth, no, no more than reason. | |
BEATRICE | |
Why then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula | |
Are much deceived, for they did swear you did. | |
BENEDICK | |
They swore that you were almost sick for me. | |
BEATRICE | |
They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. | |
BENEDICK | |
'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me? | |
BEATRICE | |
No, truly, but in friendly recompense. | |
LEONATO | |
Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. | |
CLAUDIO | |
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, | |
Fashioned to Beatrice. [He shows a paper.] | |
HERO And here's another, | |
Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket, | |
Containing her affection unto Benedick. | |
[She shows a paper.] | |
BENEDICK A miracle! Here's our own hands against | |
our hearts. Come, I will have thee, but by this light | |
I take thee for pity. | |
BEATRICE 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. | |
BENEDICK Peace! I will stop your mouth. | |
[They kiss.] | |
PRINCE | |
How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? | |
BENEDICK I'll tell thee what, prince: a college of | |
wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. | |
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 unbruised, and love my cousin. | |
CLAUDIO I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied | |
Beatrice, that I might have cudgeled 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. | |
BENEDICK 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. | |
LEONATO We'll have dancing afterward. | |
BENEDICK First, of 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 Messenger.] | |
MESSENGER, [to Prince] | |
My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, | |
And brought with armed men back to Messina. | |
BENEDICK, [to Prince] Think not on him till tomorrow. | |
I'll devise thee brave punishments for him.--Strike | |
up, pipers! [Music plays. They dance.] | |
[They exit.] |