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Box 2782 + Champaign, IL 61825 + + +This "Small Print!" by Charles B. Kramer, Attorney +Internet (72600.2026@compuserve.com); TEL: (212-254-5093) +**** SMALL PRINT! FOR __ COMPLETE SHAKESPEARE **** +["Small Print" V.12.08.93] + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + + + +1599 + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + +by William Shakespeare + + +Dramatis Personae + + + + Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon. + Don John, his bastard brother. + Claudio, a young lord of Florence. + Benedick, a Young lord of Padua. + Leonato, Governor of Messina. + Antonio, an old man, his brother. + Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro. + Borachio, follower of Don John. + Conrade, follower of Don John. + Friar Francis. + Dogberry, a Constable. + Verges, a Headborough. + A Sexton. + A Boy. + Hero, daughter to Leonato. + Beatrice, niece to Leonato. + Margaret, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero. + Ursula, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero. + Messengers, Watch, Attendants, etc. + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +SCENE.--Messina. + +ACT I. Scene I. + +An orchard before Leonato's house. + +[Enter Leonato (Governor of Messina), Hero (his Daughter), and +Beatrice (his Niece), with a Messenger.] + +Leon. +I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this +night to Messina. + +Mess. +He is very near by this. He was not three leagues off when I left +him. + +Leon. +How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? + +Mess. +But few of any sort, and none of name. + +Leon. +A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full +numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on +a young Florentine called Claudio. + +Mess. +Much deserv'd on his part, and equally rememb'red 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 +bett'red expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how. + +Leon. +He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. + +Mess. +I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy +in him; even so much that joy could not show itself modest enough +without a badge of bitterness. + +Leon. +Did he break out into tears? + +Mess. +In great measure. + +Leon. +A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than those +that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at joy than to +joy at weeping! + +Beat. +I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the wars or no? + +Mess. +I know none of that name, lady. There was none such in the army +of any sort. + +Leon. +What is he that you ask for, niece? + +Hero. +My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. + +Mess. +O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. + +Beat. +He set up his bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at the +flight, and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscrib'd +for Cupid and challeng'd him at the burbolt. I pray you, how many +hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he +kill'd? For indeed I promised to eat all of his killing. + +Leon. +Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be +meet with you, I doubt it not. + +Mess. +He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. + +Beat. +You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it. He is a very +valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach. + +Mess. +And a good soldier too, lady. + +Beat. +And a good soldier to a lady; but what is he to a lord? + +Mess. +A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuff'd with all honourable +virtues. + +Beat. +It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuff'd man; but for the +stuffing--well, we are all mortal. + +Leon. +You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war +betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet but there's a +skirmish of wit between them. + +Beat. +Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict four of his +five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd +with one; so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let +him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for +it is all the wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable +creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new +sworn brother. + +Mess. +Is't possible? + +Beat. +Very easily possible. He wears his faith but as the fashion of +his hat; it ever changes with the next block. + +Mess. +I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. + + +Beat. +No. An he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is his +companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage +with him to the devil? + +Mess. +He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. + +Beat. +O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is sooner caught +than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help +the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost +him a thousand pound ere 'a be cured. + +Mess. +I will hold friends with you, lady. + +Beat. +Do, good friend. + +Leon. +You will never run mad, niece. + +Beat. +No, not till a hot January. + +Mess. +Don Pedro is approach'd. + +[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, and John the +Bastard.] + + Pedro. +Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble? The +fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. + +Leon. +Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for +trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart +from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave. + +Pedro. +You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is your +daughter. + +Leon. +Her mother hath many times told me so. + +Bene. +Were you in doubt, sir, that you ask'd her? + +Leon. +Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child. + +Pedro. +You have it full, Benedick. We may guess by this what you are, +being a man. Truly the lady fathers herself. Be happy, lady; for +you are like an honourable father. + +Bene. +If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on +her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. + +Beat. +I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick. +Nobody marks you. + +Bene. +What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? + +Beat. +Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet food +to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to +disdain if you come in her presence. + +Bene. +Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all +ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart +that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. + +Beat. +A dear happiness to women! They would else have been troubled +with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of +your humour for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow +than a man swear he loves me. + +Bene. +God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some gentleman or +other shall scape a predestinate scratch'd face. + +Beat. +Scratching could not make it worse an 'twere such a face as yours +were. + +Bene. +Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. + +Beat. +A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. + +Bene. +I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a +continuer. But keep your way, a God's name! I have done. + +Beat. +You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old. + + +Pedro. +That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio and Signior +Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him +we shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartly prays +some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no +hypocrite, but prays from his heart. + +Leon. +If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. [To Don John] +Let me bid you welcome, my lord. Being reconciled to the Prince +your brother, I owe you all duty. + +John. +I thank you. I am not of many words, but I thank you. + + +Leon. +Please it your Grace lead on? + +Pedro. +Your hand, Leonato. We will go together. + +[Exeunt. Manent Benedick and Claudio.] + +Claud. +Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? + +Bene. +I noted her not, but I look'd on her. + +Claud. +Is she not a modest young lady? + +Bene. +Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple +true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as +being a professed tyrant to their sex? + +Claud. +No. I pray thee speak in sober judgment. + +Bene. +Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too +brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise. Only +this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than +she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she is, I +do not like her. + +Claud. +Thou thinkest I am in sport. I pray thee tell me truly how thou +lik'st her. + +Bene. +Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? + +Claud. +Can the world buy such a jewel? + +Bene. +Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad +brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a +good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key +shall a man take you to go in the song? + +Claud. +In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I look'd on. + +Bene. +I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter. +There's her cousin, an she were not possess'd with a fury,exceeds +her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of +December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have +you? + +Claud. +I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if +Hero would be my wife. + +Bene. +Is't come to this? 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. + +[Enter Don Pedro.] + +Look! Don Pedro is returned to seek you. + +Pedro. +What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to +Leonato's? + +Bene. +I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. + +Pedro. +I charge thee on thy allegiance. + +Bene. +You hear, Count Claudio. I can be secret as a dumb man, I would +have you think so; but, on my allegiance--mark you this-on my +allegiance! he is in love. With who? Now that is your Grace's +part. Mark how short his answer is: With Hero, Leonato's short +daughter. + +Claud. +If this were so, so were it utt'red. + +Bene. +Like the old tale, my lord: 'It is not so, nor 'twas not so; but +indeed, God forbid it should be so!' + +Claud. +If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be +otherwise. + +Pedro. +Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy. + +Claud. +You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. + +Pedro. +By my troth, I speak my thought. + +Claud. +And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. + +Bene. +And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. + +Claud. +That I love her, I feel. + +Pedro. +That she is worthy, I know. + +Bene. +That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she +should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me. + +I will die in it at the stake. + +Pedro. +Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. + +Claud. +And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will. + +Bene. +That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I +likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will have a +rechate 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. + +Pedro. +I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. + +Bene. +With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with +love. Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get +again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen +and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of +blind Cupid. + +Pedro. +Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a +notable argument. + +Bene. +If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me; and he +that hits me, let him be clapp'd on the shoulder and call'd Adam. + +Pedro. +Well, as time shall try. 'In time the savage bull doth bear the +yoke.' + +Bene. +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.' + +Claud. +If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad. + +Pedro. +Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt +quake for this shortly. + +Bene. +I look for an earthquake too then. + +Pedro. +Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime, good +Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him and tell +him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made great +preparation. + +Bene. +I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and so I +commit you-- + +Claud. +To the tuition of God. From my house--if I had it-- + +Pedro. +The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick. + +Bene. +Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is sometime +guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on +neither. Ere you flout old ends any further, examine your +conscience. And so I leave you. [Exit.] + +Claud. +My liege, your Highness now may do me good. + +Pedro. +My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how, + And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn + Any hard lesson that may do thee good. + +Claud. +Hath Leonato any son, my lord? + +Pedro. +No child but Hero; she's his only heir. + Dost thou affect her, Claudio? + +Claud. +O my lord, +When you went onward on this ended action, +I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, +That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand +Than to drive liking to the name of love; +But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts +Have left their places vacant, in their rooms +Come thronging soft and delicate desires, +All prompting me how fair young Hero is, +Saying I lik'd her ere I went to wars. + +Pedro. +Thou wilt be like a lover presently +And tire the hearer with a book of words. +If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, +And I will break with her and with her father, +And thou shalt have her. Wast not to this end +That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? + +Claud. +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 salv'd it with a longer treatise. + +Pedro. +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 revelling to-night. +I will assume thy part in some disguise +And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, +And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart +And take her hearing prisoner with the force +And strong encounter of my amorous tale. +Then after to her father will I break, +And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. +In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt.] + +Scene II. + +A room in Leonato's house. + +[Enter [at one door] Leonato and [at another door, Antonio] an +old man, brother to Leonato.] + +Leon. +How now, brother? Where is my cousin your son? Hath he provided +this music? + +Ant. +He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange +news that you yet dreamt not of. + +Leon. +Are they good? + +Ant. +As the event stamps them; but they have a good cover, they show +well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a +thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus 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. + +Leon. +Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? + +Ant. +A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him +yourself. + +Leon. +No, no. We will hold it as a dream till it appear itself; but I +will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better +prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and +tell her of it. [Exit Antonio.] + +[Enter Antonio's Son with a Musician, and others.] + +[To the Son] Cousin, you know what you have to do. + + --[To the Musician] O, I cry you mercy, friend. Go you with me, +and I will use your skill.--Good cousin, have a care this busy +time. [Exeunt.] + +Scene III. + +Another room in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Sir John the Bastard and Conrade, his companion.] + +Con. +What the goodyear, my lord! Why are you thus out of measure sad? + +John. +There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the +sadness is without limit. + +Con. +You should hear reason. + +John. +And when I have heard it, what blessings brings it? + +Con. +If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance. + +John. +I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born under +Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying +mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have +cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and +wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no +man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his +humour. + +Con. +Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you may do +it without controlment. You have of late stood out against your +brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is +impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that +you make yourself. It is needful that you frame the season for +your own harvest. + +John. +I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace, and +it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all than to fashion a +carriage to rob love from any. In this, though I cannot be said +to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a +plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and +enfranchis'd with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to +sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my +liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime let me be that I +am, and seek not to alter me. + +Con. +Can you make no use of your discontent? + +John. +I make all use of it, for I use it only. + +[Enter Borachio.] + +Who comes here? What news, Borachio? + +Bora. +I came yonder from a great supper. The Prince your brother is +royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence +of an intended marriage. + +John. +Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he for +a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? + +Bora. +Marry, it is your brother's right hand. + +John. +Who? the most exquisite Claudio? + +Bora. +Even he. + +John. +A proper squire! And who? and who? which way looks he? + +Bora. +Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. + +John. +A very forward March-chick! How came you to this? + +Bora. +Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty room, +comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference. +I whipt me behind the arras and there heard it agreed upon that +the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtain'd her, +give her to Count Claudio. + +John. +Come, come, let us thither. This may prove food to my +displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my +overthrow. If I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way. +You are both sure, and will assist me? + +Con. +To the death, my lord. + +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? + +Bora. +We'll wait upon your lordship. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + +ACT II. Scene I. + +A hall in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Leonato, [Antonio] his Brother, Hero his Daughter, and +Beatrice his Niece, and a Kinsman; [also Margaret and Ursula.] + +Leon. +Was not Count John here at supper? + +Ant. +I saw him not. + +Beat. +How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am +heart-burn'd an hour after. + +Hero. +He is of a very melancholy disposition. + +Beat. +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. + +Leon. +Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and +half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face-- + + +Beat. +With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his +purse, such a man would win any woman in the world--if 'a could +get her good will. + +Leon. +By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if thou be +so shrewd of thy tongue. + +Ant. +In faith, she's too curst. + +Beat. +Too curst is more than curst. I shall lessen God's sending that +way, for it is said, 'God sends a curst cow short horns,' but to +a cow too curst he sends none. + +Leon. +So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. + +Beat. +Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am at +him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not +endure a husband with a beard on his face. I had rather lie in +the woollen! + +Leon. +You may light on a husband that hath no beard. + +Beat. +What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel and make him +my waiting gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a +youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that +is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a +man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in +earnest of the berrord and lead his apes into hell. + +Leon. +Well then, go you into hell? + +Beat. +No; but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an old +cuckold with horns on his head, and say 'Get you to heaven, +Beatrice, get you to heaven. Here's no place for you maids.' So +deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter--for the heavens. +He shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry +as the day is long. + +Ant. +[to Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be rul'd by your father. + +Beat. +Yes faith. It is my cousin's duty to make cursy and say, 'Father, +as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a +handsome fellow, or else make another cursy, and say, +'Father, as it please me.' + +Leon. +Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. + +Beat. +Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it +not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd 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 kinred. + +Leon. +Daughter, remember what I told you. If the Prince do solicit you +in that kind, you know your answer. + +Beat. +The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in +good time. If the Prince be too important, tell him there is +measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, +Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a +measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like +a Scotch jig--and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly +modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes +Repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace +faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. + +Leon. +Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. + +Beat. +I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. + +Leon. +The revellers are ent'ring, brother. Make good room. + + [Exit Antonio.] + +[Enter, [masked,] Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Balthasar. + With them enter Antonio, also masked. After them enter + Don John [and Borachio (without masks), who stand aside + and look on during the dance.] + +Pedro. +Lady, will you walk a bout with your friend? + +Hero. +So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing, I am yours +for the walk; and especially when I walk away. + +Pedro. +With me in your company? + +Hero. +I may say so when I please. + +Pedro. +And when please you to say so? + +Hero. +When I like your favour, for God defend the lute should be like +the case! + +Pedro. +My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. + +Hero. +Why then, your visor should be thatch'd. + +Pedro. +Speak low if you speak love. [Takes her aside.] + +Balth. +Well, I would you did like me. + +Marg. +So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities. + +Balth. +Which is one? + +Marg. +I say my prayers aloud. + +Balth. +I love you the better. The hearers may cry Amen. + +Marg. +God match me with a good dancer! + +Balth. +Amen. + +Marg. +And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done! +Answer, clerk. + +Balth. +No more words. The clerk is answered. + + [Takes her aside.] + +Urs. +I know you well enough. You are Signior Antonio. + +Ant. +At a word, I am not. + +Urs. +I know you by the waggling of your head. + +Ant. + To tell you true, I counterfeit him. + +Urs. +You could never do him so ill-well unless you were the very man. +Here's his dry hand up and down. You are he, you are he! + +Ant. +At a word, I am not. + +Urs. +Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? +Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum you are he. Graces will +appear, and there's an end. [ They step aside.] + +Beat. +Will you not tell me who told you so? + +Bene. +No, you shall pardon me. + +Beat. +Nor will you not tell me who you are? + +Bene. +Not now. + +Beat. +That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the +'Hundred Merry Tales.' Well, this was Signior Benedick that said +so. + +Bene. +What's he? + +Beat. +I am sure you know him well enough. + +Bene. +Not I, believe me. + +Beat. +Did he never make you laugh? + +Bene. +I pray you, what is he? + +Beat. +Why, he is the Prince's jester, a very dull fool. Only his gift +is in devising impossible slanders. None but libertines delight +in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but +in his villany; for he both 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. + +Bene. +When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. + +Beat. +Do, do. He'll but break a comparison or two on me; which +peradventure, not marked or not laugh'd at, strikes him into +melancholy; and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the +fool will eat no supper that night. + [Music.] +We must follow the leaders. + +Bene. +In every good thing. + +Beat. +Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next +turning. + + [Dance. Exeunt (all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio]. + +John. +Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her father +to break with him about it. The ladies follow her and but one +visor remains. + +Bora. +And that is Claudio. I know him by his bearing. + +John. +Are you not Signior Benedick? + +Claud. +You know me well. I am he. + +John. +Signior, you are very near my brother in his love. He is +enamour'd on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her; she is no +equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in it. + +Claud. +How know you he loves her? + +John. +I heard him swear his affection. + +Bora. +So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight. + +John. +Come, let us to the banquet. + + [Exeunt. Manet Claudio.] + +Claud. +Thus answer I in name of Benedick +But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. + [Unmasks.] +'Tis certain so. The Prince wooes 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 [unmasked]]. + +Bene. +Count Claudio? + +Claud. +Yea, the same. + +Bene. +Come, will you go with me? + +Claud. +Whither? + +Bene. +Even to the next willow, about your own business, 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. + +Claud. +I wish him joy of her. + +Bene. +Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier. So they sell bullocks. +But did you think the Prince would have served you thus? + +Claud. +I pray you leave me. + +Bene. +Ho! now you strike like the blind man! 'Twas the boy that stole +your meat, and you'll beat the post. + +Claud. +If it will not be, I'll leave you. + [Exit.] + +Bene. +Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. But, that my +Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The Prince's fool! +Ha! it may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but +so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so reputed. It is the +base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice that puts the world +into her person and so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged as I +may. + + [Enter Don Pedro.] + +Pedro. +Now, signior, where's the Count? Did you see him? + +Bene. +Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame, I found him +here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told him, and I +think I told him true, that your Grace had got the good will of +this young lady, and I off'red 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 whipt. + +Pedro. +To be whipt? What's his fault? + +Bene. +The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being overjoyed with +finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it. + +Pedro. +Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in +the stealer. + +Bene. +Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland +too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he +might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n his +bird's nest. + +Pedro. +I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the owner. + +Bene. +If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say +honestly. + +Pedro. +The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman that +danc'd with her told her she is much wrong'd by you. + +Bene. +O, she misus'd 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 transgress'd. She would have made +Hercules have turn'd 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, Leonato, Hero.] + +Pedro. +Look, here she comes. + +Bene. +Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will +go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can +devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the +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? + +Pedro. +None, but to desire your good company. + +Bene. +O God, sir, here's a dish I love not! I cannot endure my Lady +Tongue. +[Exit.] + +Pedro. +Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. + +Beat. +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. + +Pedro. +You have put him down, lady; you have put him down. + +Beat. +So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the +mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me +to seek. + +Pedro. +Why, how now, Count? Wherefore are you sad? + +Claud. +Not sad, my lord. + +Pedro. +How then? sick? + +Claud. +Neither, my lord. + +Beat. +The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but +civil count--civil as an orange, and something of that jealous +complexion. + +Pedro. +I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be +sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have +wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won. I have broke with her +father, and his good will obtained. Name the day of marriage, and +God give thee joy! + +Leon. +Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes. His +Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it! + +Beat. +Speak, Count, 'tis your cue. + +Claud. +Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy +if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours. I +give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange. + +Beat. +Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss and +let not him speak neither. + +Pedro. +In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. + +Beat. +Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side +of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart. + +Claud. +And so she doth, cousin. + +Beat. +Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, +and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry 'Heigh-ho for a +husband!' + +Pedro. +Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. + +Beat. +I would rather have one of your father's getting. Hath your Grace +ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if +a maid could come by them. + +Pedro. +Will you have me, lady? + +Beat. +No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days: your +Grace is too costly to wear every day. But I beseech your Grace +pardon me. I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. + +Pedro. +Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you, +for out o' question you were born in a merry hour. + +Beat. +No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star +danc'd, and under that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy! + +Leon. +Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? + +Beat. +I cry you mercy, uncle, By your Grace's pardon. + [Exit.] + +Pedro. +By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. + +Leon. +There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord. She is +never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have +heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of +unhappiness and wak'd herself with laughing. + +Pedro. +She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. + +Leon. +O, by no means! She mocks all her wooers out of suit. + +Pedro. +She were an excellent wife for Benedick. + +Leon. +O Lord, my lord! if they were but a week married, they would talk +themselves mad. + +Pedro. +County Claudio, when mean you to go to church? + +Claud. +To-morrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches till love have all his +rites. + +Leon. +Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just sevennight; +and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. + +Pedro. +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' labours, +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. + +Leon. +My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings. + +Claud. +And I, my lord. + +Pedro. +And you too, gentle Hero? + +Hero. +I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good +husband. + +Pedro. +And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. Thus +far can I praise him: he is of a noble strain, of approved +valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour +your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, +[to Leonato and Claudio] with your two helps, will so practise on +Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy +stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, +Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are +the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. + + [Exeunt.] + + + +Scene II. + +A hall in Leonato's house. + +[Enter [Don] John and Borachio.] + +John. +It is so. The Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. + +Bora. +Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. + +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? + +Bora. +Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall +appear in me. + +John. +Show me briefly how. + +Bora. +I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the +favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. + +John. +I remember. + +Bora. +I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to +look out at her lady's chamber window. + + +John. +What life is in that to be the death of this marriage? + +Bora. +The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the Prince +your brother; spare not to tell him that he hath wronged his +honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you +mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. + +John. +What proof shall I make of that? + +Bora. +Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, +and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue? + +John. +Only to despite them I will endeavour anything. + +Bora. +Go then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count +Claudio alone; tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend +a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as--in love of +your brother's honour, who hath made this match, and his friend's + + reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of +a maid--that you have discover'd 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 call'd assurance and all the +preparation overthrown. + +John. +Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in +practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a +thousand ducats. + +Bora. +Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame +me. + +John. +I will presently go learn their day of marriage. + + [Exeunt.] + + + +Scene III. + +Leonato's orchard. + +[Enter Benedick alone.] + +Bene. +Boy! + + [Enter Boy.] + +Boy. +Signior? + +Bene. +In my chamber window lies a book. Bring it hither to me in he +orchard. + +Boy. +I am here already, sir. + +Bene. +I know that, but I would have thee hence and here again. + (Exit Boy.) I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much +another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, +will, after he hath laugh'd 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 walk'd ten mile +afoot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake +carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain +and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is +he turn'd 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 colour it +please God. Ha, the Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in +the arbour. [Hides.] + +[Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio.] + + [Music within.] + +Pedro. +Come, shall we hear this music? + +Claud. +Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, +As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! + +Pedro. +See you where Benedick hath hid himself? + +Claud. +O, very well, my lord. The music ended, +We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth. + +[Enter Balthasar with Music.] + +Pedro. +Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again. + +Balth. +O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice +To slander music any more than once. + +Pedro. +It is the witness still of excellency +To put a strange face on his own perfection. +I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more. + +Balth. +Because you talk of wooing, I will sing, +Since many a wooer doth commence his suit +To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes, +Yet will he swear he loves. + +Pedro. +Nay, pray thee come; +Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, +Do it in notes. + +Balth. +Note this before my notes: +There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. + +Pedro. +Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks! +Note notes, forsooth, and nothing! [Music.] + +Bene. +[aside] Now divine air! Now is his soul ravish'd! Is it not +strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? +Well, a horn for my money, when all's done. + + [Balthasar sings.] + + The Song. + + 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 moe, + Of dumps so dull and heavy! + The fraud of men was ever so, + Since summer first was leavy. + Then sigh not so, &c. +Pedro. +By my troth, a good song. + +Balth. +And an ill singer, my lord. + +Pedro. +Ha, no, no, faith! Thou sing'st well enough for a shift. + +Bene. +[aside] An he had been a dog that should have howl'd thus, they +would have hang'd him; and I pray God his bad voice bode no +mischief. I had as live have heard the night raven, come what +plague could have come after it. + +Pedro. +Yea, marry. Dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee get us some +excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the Lady +Hero's chamber window. + +Balth. +The best I can, my lord. + +Pedro. +Do so. Farewell. + + [Exit Balthasar [with Musicians.] + +Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day? that +your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? + +Claud. +O, ay!-[Aside to Pedro] Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. --I +did never think that lady would have loved any man. + +Leon. +No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote on +Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd +ever to abhor. + +Bene. +[aside] Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? + +Leon. +By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that +she loves him with an enraged affection. It is past the infinite +of thought. + +Pedro. +May be she doth but counterfeit. + +Claud. +Faith, like enough. + +Leon. +O God, counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of passion came +so near the life of passion as she discovers it. + +Pedro. +Why, what effects of passion shows she? + +Claud. +[aside] Bait the hook well! This fish will bite. + +Leon. +What effects, my lord? She will sit you--you heard my daughter +tell you how. + +Claud. +She did indeed. + +Pedro. +How, how, I pray you? You amaze me. I would have thought her +spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. + +Leon. +I would have sworn it had, my lord--especially against Benedick. + +Bene. +[aside] I should think this a gull but that the white-bearded +fellow speaks it. Knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such +reverence. + +Claud. +[aside] He hath ta'en th' infection. Hold it up. + +Pedro. +Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? + +Leon. +No, and swears she never will. That's her torment. + +Claud. +'Tis true indeed. So your daughter says. 'Shall I,' says she, +'that have so oft encount'red him with scorn, write to him that I +love him?'" + +Leon. +This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for +she'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her +smock till she have writ a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us +all. + +Claud. +Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your +daughter told us of. + +Leon. +O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found +'Benedick' and 'Beatrice' between the sheet? + +Claud. +That. + +Leon. +O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, rail'd at +herself that she should be so immodest to write to one that she +knew would flout her. 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own +spirit; for I should flout him if he writ to me. Yea, though I +love him, I should.' + +Claud. +Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, +tears her hair, prays, curses--'O sweet Benedick! God give me +patience!' + +Leon. +She doth indeed; my daughter says so. And the ecstasy hath so +much overborne her that my daughter is sometime afeard she will +do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true. + +Pedro. +It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will +not discover it. + +Claud. +To what end? He would make but a sport of it and torment the poor +lady worse. + +Pedro. +An he should, it were an alms to hang him! She's an excellent +sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous. + +Claud. +And she is exceeding wise. + +Pedro. +In everything but in loving Benedick. + +Leon. +O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we +have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry +for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her +guardian. + +Pedro. +I would she had bestowed this dotage on me. I would have daff'd +all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you tell +Benedick of it and hear what 'a will say. + +Leon. +Were it good, think you? + +Claud. +Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die if he +love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known, and +she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one +breath of her accustomed crossness. + +Pedro. +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. + +Claud. +He is a very proper man. + +Pedro. +He hath indeed a good outward happiness. + +Claud. +Before God! and in my mind, very wise. + +Pedro. +He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit. + +Claud. +And I take him to be valiant. + +Pedro. +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. + +Leon. +If he do fear God, 'a must necessarily keep peace. If he break +the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and +trembling. + +Pedro. +And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems +not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for +your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of her love? + +Claud. +Never tell him, my lord. Let her wear it out with good counsel. + +Leon. +Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first. + + +Pedro. +Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter. Let it cool +the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would +modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy so good a +lady. + +Leon. +My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready. + + [They walk away.] + +Claud. +If he dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. + +Pedro. +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. + + [Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato.] + + [Benedick advances from the arbour.] + +Bene. +This can be no trick. The conference was sadly borne; they have +the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady. It +seems her affections have their full bent. Love me? Why, it must +be requited. I hear how I am censur'd. 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 alters? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot +endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper +bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, +the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I +did not think I should live till I were married. + + [Enter Beatrice.] + +Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady! I do spy +some marks of love in her. + +Beat. +Against my will I am sent to bid You come in to dinner. + +Bene. +Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. + +Beat. +I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to +thank me. If it had been painful, I would not have come. + +Bene. +You take pleasure then in the message? + +Beat. +Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knives point, and choke +a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior. Fare you well. +[Exit.] + +Bene. +Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.' +There's a double meaning in that. 'I took no more pains for those +thanks than you took pains to thank me.' That's as much as to +say, 'Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks.' If I +do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I +am a Jew. I will go get her picture. [Exit.] + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + + + +ACT III. + + +Scene I. + +Leonato's orchard. + +[Enter Hero and two Gentlewomen, Margaret and Ursula.] + +Hero. +Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour. +There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice +Proposing with the Prince and Claudio. +Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursley +Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse +Is all of her. Say that thou overheard'st us; +And bid her steal into the pleached bower, +Where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, +Forbid the sun to enter--like favourites, +Made proud by princes, that advance their pride +Against that power that bred it. There will she hide her +To listen our propose. This is thy office. +Bear thee well in it and leave us alone. + +Marg. +I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. [Exit.] + +Hero. +Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, +As we do trace this alley up and down, +Our talk must only be of Benedick. +When I do name him, let it be thy part +To praise him more than ever man did merit. +My talk to thee must be how Benedick +Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter +Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, +That only wounds by hearsay. + + [Enter Beatrice.] + +Now begin; +For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs +Close by the ground, to hear our conference. + + [Beatrice hides in the arbour]. + +Urs. +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. +Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing +Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. + + [They approach the arbour.] + +No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful. +I know her spirits are as coy and wild +As haggards of the rock. + +Urs. +But are you sure +That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? + +Hero. +So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. + +Urs. +And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? + +Hero. +They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; +But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, +To wish him wrestle with affection +And never to let Beatrice know of it. + +Urs. +Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman +Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed +As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? + +Hero. +O god of love! I know he doth deserve +As much as may be yielded to a man: +But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart +Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. +Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, +Misprizing what they look on; and her wit +Values itself so highly that to her +All matter else seems weak. She cannot love, +Nor take no shape nor project of affection, +She is so self-endeared. + +Urs. +Sure I think so; +And therefore certainly it were not good +She knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it. + +Hero. +Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, +How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, +But she would spell him backward. If fair-fac'd, +She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; +If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic, +Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; +If low, an agate very vilely cut; +If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; +If silent, why, a block moved with none. +So turns she every man the wrong side out +And never gives to truth and virtue that +Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. + +Urs. +Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. + +Hero. +No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions, +As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. +But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, +She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me +Out of myself, press me to death with wit! +Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, +Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly. +It were a better death than die with mocks, +Which is as bad as die with tickling. + +Urs. +Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say. + +Hero. +No; rather I will go to Benedick +And counsel him to fight against his passion. +And truly, I'll devise some honest slanders +To stain my cousin with. One doth not know +How much an ill word may empoison liking. + +Urs. +O, do not do your cousin such a wrong! +She cannot be so much without true judgment +(Having so swift and excellent a wit +As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse +So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. + +Hero. +He is the only man of Italy, +Always excepted my dear Claudio. + +Urs. +I pray you be not angry with me, madam, +Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, +For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, +Goes foremost in report through Italy. + +Hero. +Indeed he hath an excellent good name. + +Urs. +His excellence did earn it ere he had it. +When are you married, madam? + +Hero. +Why, every day to-morrow! Come, go in. +I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel +Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. + + [They walk away.] + +Urs. +She's lim'd, I warrant you! We have caught her, madam. + +Hero. +If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; +Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. + + [Exeunt Hero and Ursula.] + +[Beatrice advances from the arbour.] + +Beat. +What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? +Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? +Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! +No glory lives behind the back of such. +And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, +Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand. +If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee +To bind our loves up in a holy band; +For others say thou dost deserve, and I +Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit.] + + + +Scene II. + +A room in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.] + +Pedro. +I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I +toward Arragon. + +Claud. +I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. + +Pedro. +Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your +marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear +it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, +from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all +mirth. He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the +little hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as +a bell; and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks, +his tongue speaks. + +Bene. +Gallants, I am not as I have been. + + +Leon. +So say I. Methinks you are sadder. + +Claud. +I hope he be in love. + +Pedro. +Hang him, truant! There's no true drop of blood in him to be +truly touch'd with love. If he be sad, he wants money. + +Bene. +I have the toothache. + +Pedro. +Draw it. + +Bene. +Hang it! + +Claud. +You must hang it first and draw it afterwards. + +Pedro. +What? sigh for the toothache? + +Leon. +Where is but a humour or a worm. + +Bene. +Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. + +Claud. +Yet say I he is in love. + +Pedro. +There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that +he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a +Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as +a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from +the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this +foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you +would have it appear he is. + +Claud. +If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old +signs. 'A brushes his hat o' mornings. What should that bode? + +Pedro. +Hath any man seen him at the barber's? + +Claud. +No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old +ornament of his cheek hath already stuff'd tennis balls. + +Leon. +Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard. + +Pedro. +Nay, 'a rubs himself with civet. Can you smell him out by that? + +Claud. +That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. + +Pedro. +The greatest note of it is his melancholy. + +Claud. +And when was he wont to wash his face? + +Pedro. +Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say of +him. + +Claud. +Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is new-crept into a +lutestring, and now govern'd by stops. + +Pedro. +Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude, he is +in love. + +Claud. +Nay, but I know who loves him. + +Pedro. +That would I know too. I warrant, one that knows him not. + +Claud. +Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despite of all, dies for him. + +Pedro. +She shall be buried with her face upwards. + +Bene. +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. + + [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.] + +Pedro. +For my life, to break with him about Beatrice! + +Claud. +'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.] + +John. +My lord and brother, God save you. + +Pedro. +Good den, brother. + +John. +If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. + +Pedro. +In private? + +John. +If it please you. Yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would +speak of concerns him. + +Pedro. +What's the matter? + +John. +[to Claudio] Means your lordship to be married tomorrow? + +Pedro. +You know he does. + +John. +I know not that, when he knows what I know. + +Claud. +If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. + +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 help to effect +your ensuing marriage--surely suit ill spent and labour ill +bestowed! + +Pedro. +Why, what's the matter? + +John. +I came hither to tell you, and, circumstances short'ned (for she +has been too long a-talking of), the lady is disloyal. + +Claud. +Who? Hero? + + +John. +Even she--Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. + +Claud. +Disloyal? + +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 to-night, you +shall see her chamber window ent'red, even the night before her +wedding day. If you love her then, to-morrow wed her. But it +would better fit your honour to change your mind. + +Claud. +May this be so? + +Pedro. +I will not think it. + +John. +If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know. If +you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have +seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. + +Claud. +If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, +in the congregation where I should wed, there will I shame her. + +Pedro. +And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to +disgrace her. + +John. +I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses. Bear +it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. + +Pedro. +O day untowardly turned! + +Claud. +O mischief strangely thwarting! + +John. +O plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have +seen the Sequel. + + [Exeunt.] + + + +Scene III. + +A street. + +[Enter Dogberry and his compartner [Verges], with the Watch.] + +Dog. +Are you good men and true? + +Verg. +Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body +and soul. + +Dog. +Nay, that were a punishment too good for them if they should have +any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch. + +Verg. +Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. + +Dog. +First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? + +1. Watch. +Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for they can write and +read. + +Dog. +Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. God hath bless'd you with a good +name. To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but to +write and read comes by nature. + +2. Watch. +Both which, Master Constable-- + +Dog. +You have. I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, +sir, why, give God thanks and make no boast of it; and for your +writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of +such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and +fit man for the constable of the watch. Therefore bear you the +lanthorn. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom +men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's name. + +2. Watch. +How if 'a will not stand? + +Dog. +Why then, take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call +the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a +knave. + +Verg. +If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the +Prince's subjects. + +Dog. +True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's subjects. +You shall also make no noise in the streets; for the watch to +babble and to talk is most tolerable, and not to be endured. + +2. Watch. +We will rather sleep than talk. We know what belongs to a watch. + +Dog. +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 stol'n. Well, you are to call at all the +alehouses and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. + +2. Watch. +How if they will not? + +Dog. +Why then, let them alone till they are sober. If they make you +not then the better answer, You may say they are not the men you +took them for. + +2. Watch. +Well, sir. + +Dog. +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 your honesty. + +2. Watch. +If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? + +Dog. +Truly, by your office you may; but I think they that touch pitch +will be defil'd. The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a +thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and +steal out of your company. + +Verg. +You have been always called a merciful man, partner. + +Dog. +Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who +hath any honesty in him. + +Verg. +If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse +and bid her still it. + +2. Watch. +How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us? + +Dog. +Why then, depart in peace and let the child wake her with crying; +for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never +answer a calf when he bleats. + +Verg. +'Tis very true. + +Dog. +This is the end of the charge: you, constable, are to present the +Prince's own person. If you meet the Prince in the night, you may +stay him. + +Verg. +Nay, by'r lady, that I think 'a cannot. + +Dog. +Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the statutes, +he may stay him! Marry, not without the Prince be willing; for +indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is +an offence to stay a man against his will. + +Verg. +By'r lady, I think it be so. + +Dog. +Ha, ah, ha! Well, masters, good night. An there be any matter of +weight chances, call up me. Keep your fellows' counsels and your +own, and good night. Come, neighbour. + +2. Watch. +Well, masters, we hear our charge. Let us go sit here upon the +church bench till two, and then all to bed. + +Dog. +One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch about Signior +Leonato's door; for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a +great coil to-night. Adieu. Be vigitant, I beseech you. + + [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.] + + [Enter Borachio and Conrade.] + +Bora. +What, Conrade! + +2. Watch. +[aside] Peace! stir not! + +Bora. +Conrade, I say! + +Con. +Here, man. I am at thy elbow. + +Bora. +Mass, and my elbow itch'd! I thought there would a scab follow. + +Con. +I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy +tale. + +Bora. +Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain, +and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. + +2. Watch. +[aside] Some treason, masters. Yet stand close. + +Bora. +Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. + +Con. +Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? + +Bora. +Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany should +be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor +ones may make what price they will. + +Con. +I wonder at it. + +Bora. +That shows thou art unconfirm'd. Thou knowest that the fashion of +a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. + +Con. +Yes, it is apparel. + +Bora. +I mean the fashion. + +Con. +Yes, the fashion is the fashion. + +Bora. +Tush! I may as well say the fool's the fool. But seest thou not +what a deformed thief this fashion is? + +2. Watch. +[aside] I know that Deformed. 'A bas been a vile thief this seven +year; 'a goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember his name. + +Bora. +Didst thou not hear somebody? + +Con. +No; 'twas the vane on the house. + +Bora. +Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how +giddily 'a turns about all the hot-bloods between fourteen and +five-and-thirty? sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's +soldiers in the reechy painting, sometime like god Bel's priests +in the old church window, sometime like the shaven Hercules in +the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as +massy as his club? + +Con. +All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel +than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion +too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of +the fashion? + +Bora. +Not so neither. But know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the +Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero. She leans me out at +her mistress' chamber window, bids me a thousand times good +night--I tell this tale vilely; I should first tell thee how the +Prince, Claudio and my master, planted and placed and possessed +by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable +encounter. + +Con. +And thought they Margaret was Hero? + +Bora. +Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master +knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first +possess'd them, partly by the dark night, which did +deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any +slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enrag'd; 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. + +2. Watch. +We charge you in the Prince's name stand! + +1. Watch. +Call up the right Master Constable. We have here recover'd the +most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the +commonwealth. + +2. Watch. +And one Deformed is one of them. I know him; 'a wears a lock. + +Con. +Masters, masters-- + +1. Watch. +You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. + +Con. +Masters-- + +2. Watch. +Never speak, we charge you. Let us obey you to go with us. + +Bora. +We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these +men's bills. + +Con. +A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you. + + [Exeunt.] + + +Scene IV. + +A Room in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Hero, and Margaret and Ursula.] + +Hero. +Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and desire her to rise. + +Urs. +I will, lady. + +Hero. +And bid her come hither. + +Urs. +Well. [Exit.] + +Marg. +Troth, I think your other rebato were better. + +Hero. +No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. + +Marg. +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. + +Marg. +I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a +thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i' faith. +I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so. + +Hero. +O, that exceeds, they say. + +Marg. +By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect of +yours--cloth-o'-gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with +pearls down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne +with a blush tinsel. But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and +excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. + +Hero. +God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy. + +Marg. +'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. + +Hero. +Fie upon thee! art not ashamed? + +Marg. +Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable +in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I +think you would have me say, 'saving your +reverence, a husband.' An bad thinking do not wrest true +speaking, I'll offend nobody. Is there any harm in 'the heavier +for a husband'? None, I think, an it be the right husband and +the right wife. Otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy. Ask my Lady +Beatrice else. +Here she comes. + + [Enter Beatrice.] + +Hero. +Good morrow, coz. + +Beat. +Good morrow, sweet Hero. + +Hero. +Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune? + +Beat. +I am out of all other tune, methinks. + +Marg. +Clap's into 'Light o' love.' That goes without a burden. Do you +sing it, and I'll dance it. + +Beat. +Yea, 'Light o' love' with your heels! then, if your husband have +stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barnes. + +Marg. +O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. + +Beat. +'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. +By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Hey-ho! + +Marg. +For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? + +Beat. +For the letter that begins them all, H. + +Marg. +Well, an you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by the +star. + +Beat. +What means the fool, trow? + +Marg. +Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire! + +Hero. +These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. + + +Beat. +I am stuff'd, cousin; I cannot smell. + +Marg. +A maid, and stuff'd! There's goodly catching of cold. + +Beat. +O, God help me! God help me! How long have you profess'd +apprehension? + +Marg. +Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely? + +Beat. +It is not seen enough. You should wear it in your cap. By my +troth, I am sick. + +Marg. +Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus and lay it to +your heart. It is the only thing for a qualm. + +Hero. +There thou prick'st her with a thistle. + +Beat. +Benedictus? why benedictus? You have some moral in this +'benedictus.' + +Marg. +Moral? No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant plain +holy thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in +love. Nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; +nor I list not to think what I can; nor indeed I cannot think, if +I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or +that you will be in love, or that you can be in +love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man. +He swore he would never marry; and yet now in despite of his +heart he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be +converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as +other women do. + +Beat. +What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? + +Marg. +Not a false gallop. + + [Enter Ursula.] + +Urs. +Madam, withdraw. The Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don +John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to +church. + +Hero. +Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. + + [Exeunt.] + + + +Scene V. + +The hall in Leonato's house. + +[Enter Leonato and the Constable [Dogberry] and the +Headborough[verges.] + +Leon. +What would you with me, honest neighbour? + +Dog. +Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns +you nearly. + +Leon. +Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me. + +Dog. +Marry, this it is, sir. + +Verg. +Yes, in truth it is, sir. + +Leon. +What is it, my good friends? + +Dog. +Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter--an old man, +sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire +they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his +brows. + +Verg. +Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old +man and no honester than I. + +Dog. +Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbour Verges. + +Leon. +Neighbours, you are tedious. + +Dog. +It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's +officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a +king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your +worship. + +Leon. +All thy tediousness on me, ah? + +Dog. +Yea, in '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. + +Verg. +And so am I. + +Leon. +I would fain know what you have to say. + +Verg. +Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's +presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in +Messina. + +Dog. +A good old man, sir; he will be talking. As they say, 'When the +age is in, the wit is out.' God help us! it is a world to see! +Well said, i' faith, neighbour Verges. Well, God's a +good man. An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An +honest soul, i' faith, sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke +bread; but God is to be worshipp'd; all men are not alike, alas, +good neighbour! + +Leon. +Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. + +Dog. +Gifts that God gives. + +Leon. +I must leave you. + +Dog. +One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two +aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined +before your worship. + +Leon. +Take their examination yourself and bring it me. I am now in +great haste, as it may appear unto you. + +Dog. +It shall be suffigance. + +Leon. +Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well. + + [Enter a Messenger.] + +Mess. +My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. + + +Leon. +I'll wait upon them. I am ready. + + [Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.] + +Dog. +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. + +Verg. +And we must do it wisely. + +Dog. +We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. Here's that shall drive +some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to set +down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail. + + [Exeunt.] + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + +ACT IV. Scene I. + +A church. + +[Enter Don Pedro, [John the] Bastard, Leonato, Friar [Francis], +Claudio, Benedick, Hero, Beatrice, [and Attendants.] + +Leon. +Come, Friar Francis, be brief. Only to the plain form of +marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties +afterwards. + +Friar. +You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? + +Claud. +No. + +Leon. +To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her. + +Friar. +Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? + +Hero. +I do. + +Friar. +If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be +conjoined, I charge you on your souls to utter it. + +Claud. +Know you any, Hero? + +Hero. +None, my lord. + +Friar. +Know you any, Count? + +Leon. +I dare make his answer--none. + +Claud. +O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not +knowing what they do! + +Bene. +How now? interjections? Why then, some be of laughing, as, ah, +ha, he! + +Claud. +Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave: +Will you with free and unconstrained soul +Give me this maid your daughter? + +Leon. +As freely, son, as God did give her me. + +Claud. +And what have I to give you back whose worth +May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? + +Pedro. +Nothing, unless you render her again. + +Claud. +Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. +There, Leonato, take her back again. +Give not this rotten orange to your friend. +She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. +Behold how like a maid she blushes here! +O, what authority and show of truth +Can cunning sin cover itself withal! +Comes not that blood as modest evidence +To witness simple virtue, Would you not swear, +All you that see her, that she were a maid +By these exterior shows? But she is none: +She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; +Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. + +Leon. +What do you mean, my lord? + +Claud. +Not to be married, +Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. + +Leon. +Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, +Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth +And made defeat of her virginity-- + +Claud. +I know what you would say. If I have known her, +You 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, show'd +Bashful sincerity and comely love. + +Hero. +And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? + +Claud. +Out on the seeming! I will write against it. +You seem to me as Dian in her orb, +As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; +But you are more intemperate in your blood +Than Venus, or those pamp'red animals +That rage in savage sensuality. + +Hero. +Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide? + +Leon. +Sweet Prince, why speak not you? + +Pedro. +What should I speak? +I stand dishonour'd that have gone about +To link my dear friend to a common stale. + +Leon. +Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? + +John. +Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. + +Bene. +This looks not like a nuptial. + +Hero. +'True!' O God! + +Claud. +Leonato, stand I here? +Is this the Prince, Is this the Prince's brother? +Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own? + +Leon. +All this is so; but what of this, my lord? + +Claud. +Let me but move one question to your daughter, +And by that fatherly and kindly power +That you have in her, bid her answer truly. + +Leon. +I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. + +Hero. +O, God defend me! How am I beset! +What kind of catechising call you this? + +Claud. +To make you answer truly to your name. + +Hero. +Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name +With any just reproach? + +Claud. +Marry, that can Hero! + Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. +What man was he talk'd with you yesternight, +Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? +Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. + +Hero. +I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. + +Pedro. +Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, +I am sorry you must hear. Upon my honour, +Myself, my brother, and this grieved Count +Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night +Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window, +Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, +Confess'd the vile encounters they have had +A thousand times in secret. + +John. +Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my lord-- +Not to be spoke of; +There is not chastity, enough in language +Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, +I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. + +Claud. +O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been +If half thy outward graces had been plac'd +About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! +But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! Farewell, +Thou pure impiety and impious purity! +For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, +And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, +To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, +And never shall it more be gracious. + +Leon. +Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? + + [Hero swoons.] + +Beat. +Why, how now, cousin? Wherefore sink you down? + +John. +Come let us go. These things, come thus to light, +Smother her spirits up. + + [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don Juan, and Claudio.] + +Bene. +How doth the lady? + +Beat. +Dead, I think. Help, uncle! +Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! + +Leon. +O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand! +Death is the fairest cover for her shame +That may be wish'd for. + +Beat. +How now, cousin Hero? + +Friar. +Have comfort, lady. + +Leon. +Dost thou look up? + +Friar. +Yea, wherefore should she not? + +Leon. +Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing +Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny +The story that is printed in her blood? +Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes; +For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, +Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, +Myself would on the rearward of reproaches +Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? +Child I for that at frugal nature's frame? +O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? +Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? +Why had I not with charitable hand +Took up a beggar's issue at my gates, +Who smirched thus and mir'd with infamy, +I might have said, 'No part of it is mine; +This shame derives itself from unknown loins'? +But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, +And mine that I was proud on--mine so much +That I myself was to myself not mine, +Valuing of her--why, she, O, she is 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! + +Bene. +Sir, sir, be patient. +For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, +I know not what to say. + +Beat. +O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! + +Bene. +Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? + +Beat. +No, truly, not; although, until last night, +I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. + +Leon. +Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made +Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! +Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie, +Who lov'd her so that, speaking of her foulness, +Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die. + +Friar. +Hear me a little; +For I have only been silent so long, +And given way unto this course of fortune, +By noting of the lady. I have mark'd +A thousand blushing apparitions +To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames +In angel whiteness beat away those blushes, +And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire +To burn the errors that these princes hold +Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool; +Trust not my reading nor my observation, +Which with experimental seal doth warrant +The tenure of my book; trust not my age, +My reverence, calling, nor divinity, +If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here +Under some biting error. + +Leon. +Friar, it cannot be. +Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left +Is that she will not add to her damnation +A sin of perjury: she not denies it. +Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse +That which appears in proper nakedness? + +Friar. +Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? + +Hero. +They know that do accuse me; I know none. +If I know more of any man alive +Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, +Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, +Prove you that any man with me convers'd +At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight +Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, +Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death! + +Friar. +There is some strange misprision in the princes. + +Bene. +Two of them have the very bent of honour; +And if their wisdoms be misled in this, +The practice of it lives in John the bastard, +Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. + +Leon. +I know not. If they speak but truth of her, +These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honour, +The proudest of them shall well hear of it. +Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, +Nor age so eat up my invention, +Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, +Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, +But they shall find awak'd in such a kind +Both strength of limb and policy of mind, +Ability in means, and choice of friends, +To quit me of them throughly. + +Friar. +Pause awhile +And let my counsel sway you in this case. +Your daughter here the princes left for dead, +Let her awhile be secretly kept in, +And publish it that she is dead indeed; +Maintain a mourning ostentation, +And on your family's old monument +Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites +That appertain unto a burial. + +Leon. +What shall become of this? What will this do? + +Friar. +Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf +Change slander to remorse. That is some good. +But not for that dream I on this strange course, +But on this travail look for greater birth. +She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, +Upon the instant that she was accus'd, +Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd +Of every hearer; for it so falls out +That what we have we prize not to the worth +Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, +Why, then we rack the value, then we find +The virtue that possession would not show us +Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio. +When he shall hear she died upon his words, +Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep +Into his study of imagination, +And every lovely organ of her life +Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, +More moving, delicate, and full of life, +Into the eye and prospect of his soul +Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn +(If ever love had interest in his liver) +And wish he had not so accused her-- +No, though he thought his accusation true. +Let this be so, and doubt not but success +Will fashion the event in better shape +Than I can lay it down in likelihood. +But if all aim but this be levell'd false, +The supposition of the lady's death +Will quench the wonder of her infamy. +And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, +As best befits her wounded reputation, +In some reclusive and religious life, +Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. + +Bene. +Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you; +And though you know my inwardness and love +Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, +Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this +As secretly and justly as your soul +Should with your body. + +Leon. +Being that I flow in grief, +The smallest twine may lead me. + +Friar. +'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 prolong'd. Have patience and endure. + + [Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice.] + +Bene. +Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? + +Beat. +Yea, and I will weep a while longer. + +Bene. +I will not desire that. + +Beat. +You have no reason. I do it freely. + +Bene. +Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. + +Beat. +Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! + +Bene. +Is there any way to show such friendship? + +Beat. +A very even way, but no such friend. + +Bene. +May a man do it? + +Beat. +It is a man's office, but not yours. + +Bene. +I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that +strange? + +Beat. +As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to +say I loved nothing so well as you. But believe me not; and yet I +lie not. I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my +cousin. + +Bene. +By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. + +Beat. +Do not swear, and eat it. + +Bene. +I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it +that says I love not you. + +Beat. +Will you not eat your word? + +Bene. +With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee. + +Beat. +Why then, God forgive me! + +Bene. +What offence, sweet Beatrice? + +Beat. +You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to protest I +loved you. + +Bene. +And do it with all thy heart. + +Beat. +I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. + +Bene. +Come, bid me do anything for thee. + +Beat. +Kill Claudio. + +Bene. +Ha! not for the wide world! + +Beat. +You kill me to deny it. Farewell. + +Bene. +Tarry, sweet Beatrice. + +Beat. +I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I +pray you let me go. + +Bene. +Beatrice-- + +Beat. +In faith, I will go. + +Bene. +We'll be friends first. + +Beat. +You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy. + +Bene. +Is Claudio thine enemy? + +Beat. +Is 'a not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, +scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What? +bear her in hand until they come to take hands, +and then with public accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated +rancour--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the +market place. + +Bene. +Hear me, Beatrice! + +Beat. +Talk with a man out at a window!-a proper saying! + +Bene. +Nay but Beatrice-- + +Beat. +Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is sland'red, she is undone. + +Bene. +Beat-- + +Beat. +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 cursies, valour into compliment, +and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too. He is now +as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie,and swears it. I +cannot be a man with wishing; therefore I will die a woman with +grieving. + +Bene. +Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. + +Beat. +Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. + +Bene. +Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero? + +Beat. +Yea, as sure is I have a thought or a soul. + +Bene. +Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him. I will kiss your +hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a +dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort your +cousin. I must say she is dead-and so farewell. + + [Exeunt.] + + + +Scene II. + +A prison. + +[Enter the Constables [Dogberry and Verges] and the Sexton, in +gowns, [and the Watch, with Conrade and] Borachio.] + +Dog. +Is our whole dissembly appear'd? + +Verg. +O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. + +Sex. +Which be the malefactors? + +Dog. +Marry, that am I and my partner. + +Verg. +Nay, that's certain. We have the exhibition to examine. + +Sex. +But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them +come before Master Constable. + +Dog. +Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name, friend? + +Bor. +Borachio. + +Dog. +Pray write down Borachio. Yours, sirrah? + +Con. +I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. + +Dog. +Write down Master Gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve God? + +Both. +Yea, sir, we hope. + +Dog. +Write down that they hope they serve God; and write God first, +for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, +it is proved already that you are little better than false +knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer +you for yourselves? + +Con. +Marry, sir, we say we are none. + +Dog. +A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about with +him. Come you hither, sirrah. A word in your ear. Sir, I say to +you, it is thought you are false knaves. + +Bora. +Sir, I say to you we are none. + +Dog. +Well, stand aside. Fore God, they are both in a tale. +Have you writ down that they are none? + +Sex. +Master Constable, you go not the way to examine. You must call +forth the watch that are their accusers. + +Dog. +Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch come forth. +Masters, I charge you in the Prince's name accuse these men. + +1. Watch. +This man said, sir, that Don John the Prince's brother was a +villain. + +Dog. +Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to +call a prince's brother villain. + +Bora. +Master Constable-- + +Dog. +Pray thee, fellow, peace. I do not like thy look, I promise thee. + +Sex. +What heard you him say else? + +2. Watch. +Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for +accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. + +Dog. +Flat burglary as ever was committed. + +Verg. +Yea, by th' mass, that it is. + +Sex. +What else, fellow? + +1. Watch. +And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero +before the whole assembly, and not marry her. + +Dog. +O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for +this. + +Sex. +What else? + +Watchmen. +This is all. + +Sex. +And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this +morning secretly stol'n away. Hero was in this manner accus'd, in +this manner refus'd, 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. [Exit.] + +Dog. +Come, let them be opinion'd. + +Verg. +Let them be in the hands-- + +Con. +Off, coxcomb! + +Dog. +God's my life, where's the sexton? Let him write down the +Prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.--Thou naughty varlet! + +Con. +Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. + +Dog. +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 prov'd 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! + [Exeunt.] +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + +ACT V. +Scene I. +The street, near Leonato's house. +[Enter Leonato and his brother Antonio.] + +Ant. +If you go on thus, you will kill yourself, +And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief +Against yourself. + +Leon. +I pray thee cease thy counsel, +Which falls into mine ears as profitless +As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel, +Nor let no comforter delight mine ear +But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. +Bring me a father that so lov'd his child, +Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, +And bid him speak to me of patience. +Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, +And let it answer every strain for strain, +As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, +In every lineament, branch, shape, and form. +If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, +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 medicine 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. + +Ant. +Therein do men from children nothing differ. + +Leon. +I pray thee peace. I will be flesh and blood; +For there was never yet philosopher +That could endure the toothache patiently, +However they have writ the style of gods +And made a push at chance and sufferance. + +Ant. +Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself. +Make those that do offend you suffer too. + +Leon. +There thou speak'st reason. Nay, I will do so. +My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; +And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince, +And all of them that thus dishonour her. + [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.] + +Ant. +Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. + +Pedro. +Good den, Good den. + +Claud. +Good day to both of you. + +Leon. +Hear you, my lords! + +Pedro. +We have some haste, Leonato. + +Leon. +Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord. +Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one. + +Pedro. +Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. + +Ant. +If he could right himself with quarrelling, +Some of us would lie low. + +Claud. +Who wrongs him? + +Leon. +Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou! +Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; +I fear thee not. + +Claud. +Marry, beshrew my hand +If it should give your age such cause of fear. +In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. + +Leon. +Tush, tush, man! never fleer and jest at me +I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, +As under privilege of age to brag +What I have done being young, or what would do, +Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, +Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me +That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by +And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, +Do challenge thee to trial of a man. +I say thou hast belied mine innocent child; +Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, +And she lies buried with her ancestors- +O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, +Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany! + +Claud. +My villany? + +Leon. +Thine, Claudio; thine I say. + +Pedro. +You say not right, old man. + +Leon. +My lord, my lord, +I'll prove it on his body if he dare, +Despite his nice fence and his active practice, +His May of youth and bloom of lustihood. + +Claud. +Away! I will not have to do with you. + +Leon. +Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill'd my child. +If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. + +Ant. +He shall kill two of us, and men indeed +But that's no matter; let him kill one first. +Win me and wear me! Let him answer me. +Come, follow me, boy,. Come, sir boy, come follow me. +Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence! +Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. + +Leon. +Brother-- + +Ant. +Content yourself. God knows I lov'd my niece, +And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, +That dare as well answer a man indeed +As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. +Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! + +Leon. +Brother Anthony-- +Ant. + +Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, +And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple, +Scambling, outfacing, fashion-monging boys, +That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, +Go anticly, 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. + +Leon. +But, brother Anthony-- + +Ant. +Come, 'tis no matter. + Do not you meddle; let me deal in this. + +Pedro. +Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. +My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; +But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing +But what was true, and very full of proof. + +Leon. +My lord, my lord-- + +Pedro. +I will not hear you. + +Leon. +No? Come, brother, away!--I will be heard. + +Ant. +And shall, or some of us will smart for it. + [Exeunt ambo.] + [Enter Benedick.] + +Pedro. +See, see! Here comes the man we went to seek. + +Claud. +Now, signior, what news? + +Bene. +Good day, my lord. + +Pedro. +Welcome, signior. You are almost come to part almost a fray. + +Claud. +We had lik'd to have had our two noses snapp'd off with two old +men without teeth. + +Pedro. +Leonato and his brother. What think'st thou? Had we fought, I +doubt we should have been too young for them. + +Bene. +In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you +both. + +Claud. +We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof +melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy +wit? + +Bene. +It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it? + +Pedro. +Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? + +Claud. +Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I +will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrel--draw to pleasure us. + +Pedro. +As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick or angry? + +Claud. +What, courage, man! What though care kill'd a cat, thou hast +mettle enough in thee to kill care. + +Bene. +Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career an you charge it against +me. I pray you choose another subject. + +Claud. +Nay then, give him another staff; this last was broke cross. +Pedro. +By this light, he changes more and more. I think he be angry +indeed. + +Claud. +If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. + +Bene. +Shall I speak a word in your ear? + +Claud. +God bless me from a challenge! + +Bene. +[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 kill'd a sweet +lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from +you. + +Claud. +Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. + +Pedro. +What, a feast, a feast? + +Claud. +I' faith, I thank him, he hath bid me to a calve's head and a +capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife's +naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? + +Bene. +Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. + +Pedro. +I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd 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. + +Claud. +For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not. + +Pedro. +Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate +him deadly, she would love him dearly. The old man's daughter +told us all. + +Claud. +All, all! and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the +garden. + +Pedro. +But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible +Benedick's head? + +Claud. +Yea, and text underneath, 'Here dwells Benedick, the married +man'? + +Bene. +Fare you well, boy; you know my mind. I will leave you now to +your gossiplike humour. You break jests as braggards 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 +kill'd a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he +and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him. + [Exit.] + +Pedro. +He is in earnest. + +Claud. +In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant you, for the love of +Beatrice. + +Pedro. +And hath challeng'd thee. + +Claud. +Most sincerely. + +Pedro. +What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose +and leaves off his wit! +[Enter Constables Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch, leading +Conrade and Borachio.] + +Claud. +He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such +a man. + +Pedro. +But, soft you, let me be! Pluck up, my heart, and be sad! +Did he not say my brother was fled? + +Dog. +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 look'd to. + +Pedro. +How now? two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one. + +Claud. +Hearken after their offence, my lord. + +Pedro. +Officers, what offence have these men done? + +Dog. +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. + +Pedro. +First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's +their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and to +conclude, what you lay to their charge. + +Claud. +Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and by my troth +there's one meaning well suited. + +Pedro. +Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your +answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. +What's your offence? + +Bora. +Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine answer. Do you hear +me, and let this Count kill me. I have deceived even your very +eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover, these +shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard +me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother 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 disgrac'd +her when you should marry her. My villany they have upon record, +which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my +shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master's false +accusation; and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a +villain. + +Pedro. +Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? + +Claud. +I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it. +Pedro. + +But did my brother set thee on to this? + +Bora. +Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. + +Pedro. +He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery, +And fled he is upon this villany. + +Claud. +Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear +In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. + +Dog. +Come, bring away the plaintiffs. By this time our sexton hath +reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And, masters, do not +forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an +ass. + +Verg. +Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too. + [Enter Leonato, his brother [Antonio], and the Sexton.] + +Leon. +Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes, +That, when I note another man like him, +I may avoid him. Which of these is he? + +Bora. +If you would know your wronger, look on me. + +Leon. +Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd +Mine innocent child? + +Bora. +Yea, even I alone. + +Leon. +No, not so, villain! thou beliest thyself. +Here stand a pair of honourable men-- +A third is fled--that had a hand in it. +I thank you princes for my daughter's death. +Record it with your high and worthy deeds. +'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. + +Claud. +I know not how to pray your patience; +Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; +Impose me to what penance your invention +Can lay upon my sin. Yet sinn'd I not +But in mistaking. + +Pedro. +By my soul, nor I! +And yet, to satisfy this good old man, +I would bend under any heavy weight +That he'll enjoin me to. + +Leon. +I cannot bid you bid my daughter live- +That were impossible; but I pray you both, +Possess the people in Messina here +How innocent she died; and if your love +Can labour aught in sad invention, +Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, +And sing it to her bones--sing it to-night. +To-morrow morning come you to my house, +And since you could not be my son-in-law, +Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, +Almost the copy of my child that's dead, +And she alone is heir to both of us. +Give her the right you should have giv'n her cousin, +And so dies my revenge. + +Claud. +O noble sir! +Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me. +I do embrace your offer; and dispose +For henceforth of poor Claudio. + +Leon. +To-morrow then I will expect your coming; +To-night I take my leave. This naughty man +Shall fact to face be brought to Margaret, +Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong, +Hir'd to it by your brother. + +Bora. +No, by my soul, she was not; +Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me; +But always hath been just and virtuous +In anything that I do know by her. +Dog. +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 rememb'red 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 us'd so long and never paid that now men grow hard-hearted +and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you examine him upon +that point. + +Leon. +I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. + +Dog. +Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth, and +I praise God for you. + +Leon. +There's for thy pains. [Gives money.] + +Dog. +God save the foundation! + +Leon. +Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. + +Dog. +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 wish'd, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour. + [Exeunt [Dogberry and Verges.] + +Leon. +Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. + +Ant. +Farewell, my lords. We look for you to-morrow. + +Pedro. +We will not fall. + +Claud. +To-night I'll mourn with Hero. + [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio.] + +Leon. +[to the Watch] Bring you these fellows on.--We'll talk with + +Margaret, + How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. + [Exeunt.] + + +Scene II. +Leonato's orchard. +[Enter Benedick and Margaret [meeting.] + +Bene. +Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by +helping me to the speech of Beatrice. + +Marg. +Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? + +Bene. +In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over +it; for in most comely truth thou deservest it. + +Marg. +To have no man come over me? Why, shall I always keep below +stairs? + +Bene. +Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth--it catches. + +Marg. +And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit but hurt not. + +Bene. +A most manly wit, Margaret: it will not hurt a woman. +And so I pray thee call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers. + +Marg. +Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. + +Bene. +If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, +and they are dangerous weapons for maids. + +Marg. +Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. + +Bene. +And therefore will come. + [Exit Margaret.] + [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 carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the +even road of a blank verse--why, they were never so truly turn'd +over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in +rhyme. I have tried. I can find out no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby' +--an innocent rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn'--a hard rhyme; for +'school', 'fool'--a babbling rhyme: very ominous endings! No, I +was not born under a rhyming planet, nor cannot woo in festival +terms. + [Enter Beatrice.] + Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I call'd thee? + +Beat. +Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. + +Bene. +O, stay but till then! + +Beat. +'Then' is spoken. Fare you well now. And yet, ere I go, let me go +with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath pass'd +between you and Claudio. + +Bene. +Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee. + +Beat. +Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, +and foul breath is noisome. Therefore I will depart unkiss'd. +Bene. +Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible +is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my +challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him or I will +subscribe him a coward. And I pray thee now tell me, for which of +my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? + +Beat. +For them all together, which maintain'd so politic a state of +evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with +them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love +for me? + +Bene. +Suffer love!--a good epithet. I do suffer love indeed, for I love +thee against my will. + +Beat. +In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart! If you spite +it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never love +that which my friend hates. + +Bene. +Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. + +Beat. +It appears not in this confession. There's not one wise man among +twenty, that will praise himself. + +Bene. +An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of good +neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he +dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the +bell rings and the widow weeps. + +Beat. +And how long is that, think you? + +Bene. +Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum. +Therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his +conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the +trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for +praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is +praiseworthy. And now tell me, how doth your cousin? + +Beat. +Very ill. + +Bene. +And how do you? + +Beat. +Very ill too. + +Bene. +Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for +here comes one in haste. + [Enter Ursula.] + +Urs. +Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old coil at home. +It is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd, the Prince +and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the author of all, +who is fled and gone. Will you come presently? + +Beat. +Will you go hear this news, signior? + +Bene. +I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried thy eyes; +and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. + [Exeunt.] + + +Scene III. +A churchyard. +[Enter Claudio, Don Pedro, and three or four with tapers, +followed by Musicians.] + +Claud. +Is this the monument of Leonato? + +Lord. +It is, my lord. + +Claud. +[reads from a scroll] + 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. +Hang thou there upon the tomb, + [Hangs up the scroll.] +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. + +Claud. +Now unto thy bones good night! +Yearly will I do this rite. + +Pedro. +Good morrow, masters. Put your torches out. +The wolves have prey'd, and look, the gentle day, +Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about +Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. +Thanks to you all, and leave us. Fare you well. + +Claud. +Good morrow, masters. Each his several way. + +Pedro. +Come, let us hence and put on other weeds, +And then to Leonato's we will go. + +Claud. +And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds +Than this for whom we rend'red up this woe. [Exeunt.] + + +Scene IV +The hall in Leonato's house. +[Enter Leonato, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, +Friar [Francis], Hero.] + +Friar. +Did I not tell you she was innocent? + +Leon. +So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her +Upon the error that you heard debated. +But Margaret was in some fault for this, +Although against her will, as it appears +In the true course of all the question. + +Ant. +Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. + +Bene. +And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd +To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. + +Leon. +Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, +Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, +And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. + [Exeunt Ladies.] +The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour +To visit me. You know your office, brother: +You must be father to your brother's daughter, +And give her to young Claudio. + +Ant. +Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. + +Bene. +Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. + +Friar. +To do what, signior? + +Bene. +To bind me, or undo me--one of them. +Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, +Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. + +Leon. +That eye my daughter lent her. 'Tis most true. + +Bene. +And I do with an eye of love requite her. + +Leon. +The sight whereof I think you had from me, +From Claudio, and the Prince; but what's your will? + +Bene. +Your answer, sir, is enigmatical; +But, for my will, my will is, your good will +May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd +In the state of honourable marriage; +In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. + +Leon. +My heart is with your liking. + +Friar. +And my help. + [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio and two or three other. ] +Here comes the Prince and Claudio. + +Pedro. +Good morrow to this fair assembly. + +Leon. +Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio. + We here attend you. Are you yet determin'd +To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? + +Claud. +I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. + +Leon. +Call her forth, brother. Here's the friar ready. + [Exit Antonio.] +Pedro. +Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter +That you have such a February face, +So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? + +Claud. +I think he thinks upon the savage bull. +Tush, fear not, man! We'll tip thy horns with gold, +And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, +As once Europa did at lusty Jove +When he would play the noble beast in love. + +Bene. +Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low, +And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow +And got a calf in that same noble feat +Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. +[Enter [Leonato's] brother [Antonio], Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, +Ursula, [the ladies wearing masks.] + +Claud. +For this I owe you. Here comes other reckonings. +Which is the lady I must seize upon? + +Ant. +This same is she, and I do give you her. + +Claud. +Why then, she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face. + +Leon. +No, that you shall not till you take her hand +Before this friar and swear to marry her. + +Claud. +Give me your hand before this holy friar. +I am your husband if you like of me. + +Hero. +And when I liv'd I was your other wife; [Unmasks.] +And when you lov'd you were my other husband. + +Claud. +Another Hero! + +Hero. +Nothing certainer. +One Hero died defil'd; but I do live, +And surely as I live, I am a maid. + +Pedro. +The former Hero! Hero that is dead! + +Leon. +She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. + +Friar. +All this amazement can I qualify, +When, after that the holy rites are ended, +I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death. +Meantime let wonder seem familiar, +And to the chapel let us presently. + +Bene. +Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? + +Beat. +[unmasks] I answer to that name. What is your will? + +Bene. +Do not you love me? + +Beat. +Why, no; no more than reason. + +Bene. +Why, then your uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio +Have been deceived; for they swore you did. + +Beat. +Do not you love me? + +Bene. +Troth, no; no more than reason. + +Beat. +Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula +Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. + +Bene. +They swore that you were almost sick for me. + +Beat. +They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. + +Bene. +'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me? + +Beat. +No, truly, but in friendly recompense. + +Leon. +Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. + +Claud. +And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her; +For here's a paper written in his hand, +A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, +Fashion'd to Beatrice. + +Hero. +And here's another, +Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket, +Containing her affection unto Benedick. + +Bene. +A miracle! Here's our own hands against our hearts. +Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. + +Beat. +I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great +persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were +in a consumption. + +Bene. +Peace! I will stop your mouth. [Kisses her.] + +Bene. +I'll tell thee what, Prince: a college of wit-crackers cannot +flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or +an epigram? No. If a man will be beaten with brains, 'a shall +wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to +marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say +against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said +against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. +For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in +that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my +cousin. + +Claud. +I had well hop'd thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might +have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a +double-dealer, which out of question thou wilt be if my cousin do +not look exceeding narrowly to thee. + +Bene. +Come, come, we are friends. Let's have a dance ere we are +married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels. + +Leon. +We'll have dancing afterward. + +Bene. +First, of my word! Therefore play, music. Prince, thou art sad. +Get thee a wife, get thee a wife! There is no staff more reverent +than one tipp'd with horn. + [Enter Messenger.] +Mess. +My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, +And brought with armed men back to Messina. + +Bene. +Think not on him till to-morrow. I'll devise thee brave +punishments for him. Strike up, pipers! + Dance. [Exeunt.] +THE END + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. 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