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4224 lines
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Much Ado About Nothing
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by William Shakespeare
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Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine
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with Michael Poston and Rebecca Niles
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Folger Shakespeare Library
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https://shakespeare.folger.edu/shakespeares-works/much-ado-about-nothing/
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Created on Jul 31, 2015, from FDT version 0.9.2
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Characters in the Play
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======================
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LEONATO, Governor of Messina
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HERO, his daughter
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BEATRICE, his niece
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LEONATO'S BROTHER
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Waiting gentlewomen to Hero:
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MARGARET
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URSULA
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DON PEDRO, Prince of Aragon
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COUNT CLAUDIO, a young lord from Florence
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SIGNIOR BENEDICK, a gentleman from Padua
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BALTHASAR
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SIGNIOR ANTONIO
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DON JOHN, Don Pedro's brother
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Don John's followers:
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BORACHIO
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CONRADE
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DOGBERRY, Master Constable in Messina
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VERGES, Dogberry's partner
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GEORGE SEACOAL, leader of the Watch
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FIRST WATCHMAN
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SECOND WATCHMAN
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SEXTON
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FRIAR FRANCIS
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MESSENGER to Leonato
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MESSENGER to Don Pedro
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BOY
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Musicians, Lords, Attendants, Son to Leonato's brother
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ACT 1
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=====
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Scene 1
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=======
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[Enter Leonato, Governor of Messina, Hero his daughter,
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and Beatrice his niece, with a Messenger.]
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LEONATO, [with a letter] I learn in this letter that Don
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Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina.
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MESSENGER He is very near by this. He was not three
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leagues off when I left him.
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LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this
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action?
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MESSENGER But few of any sort, and none of name.
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LEONATO A victory is twice itself when the achiever
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brings home full numbers. I find here that Don
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Pedro hath bestowed much honor on a young
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Florentine called Claudio.
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MESSENGER Much deserved on his part, and equally
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remembered by Don Pedro. He hath borne himself
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beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure
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of a lamb the feats of a lion. He hath indeed better
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bettered expectation than you must expect of me to
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tell you how.
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LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be
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very much glad of it.
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MESSENGER I have already delivered him letters, and
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there appears much joy in him, even so much that
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joy could not show itself modest enough without a
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badge of bitterness.
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LEONATO Did he break out into tears?
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MESSENGER In great measure.
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LEONATO A kind overflow of kindness. There are no
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faces truer than those that are so washed. How
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much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at
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weeping!
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BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned
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from the wars or no?
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MESSENGER I know none of that name, lady. There
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was none such in the army of any sort.
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LEONATO What is he that you ask for, niece?
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HERO My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
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MESSENGER O, he's returned, and as pleasant as ever
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he was.
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BEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina and
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challenged Cupid at the flight, and my uncle's Fool,
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reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid and
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challenged him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how
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many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But
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how many hath he killed? For indeed I promised to
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eat all of his killing.
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LEONATO Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too
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much, but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.
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MESSENGER He hath done good service, lady, in these
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wars.
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BEATRICE You had musty victual, and he hath holp to
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eat it. He is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an
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excellent stomach.
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MESSENGER And a good soldier too, lady.
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BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady, but what is he
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to a lord?
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MESSENGER A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed
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with all honorable virtues.
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BEATRICE It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuffed
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man, but for the stuffing--well, we are all mortal.
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LEONATO You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is
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a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and
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her. They never meet but there's a skirmish of wit
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between them.
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BEATRICE Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last
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conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and
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now is the whole man governed with one, so that if
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he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him
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bear it for a difference between himself and his
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horse, for it is all the wealth that he hath left to
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be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion
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now? He hath every month a new sworn
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brother.
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MESSENGER Is 't possible?
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BEATRICE Very easily possible. He wears his faith but
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as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the
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next block.
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MESSENGER I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your
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books.
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BEATRICE No. An he were, I would burn my study. But
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I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no
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young squarer now that will make a voyage with
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him to the devil?
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MESSENGER He is most in the company of the right
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noble Claudio.
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BEATRICE O Lord, he will hang upon him like a
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disease! He is sooner caught than the pestilence,
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and the taker runs presently mad. God help the
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noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it
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will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.
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MESSENGER I will hold friends with you, lady.
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BEATRICE Do, good friend.
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LEONATO You will never run mad, niece.
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BEATRICE No, not till a hot January.
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MESSENGER Don Pedro is approached.
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[Enter Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon, with Claudio,
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Benedick, Balthasar, and John the Bastard.]
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PRINCE Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet
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your trouble? The fashion of the world is to avoid
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cost, and you encounter it.
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LEONATO Never came trouble to my house in the
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likeness of your Grace, for trouble being gone,
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comfort should remain, but when you depart from
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me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.
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PRINCE You embrace your charge too willingly. [Turning
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to Hero.] I think this is your daughter.
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LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so.
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BENEDICK Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?
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LEONATO Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a
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child.
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PRINCE You have it full, Benedick. We may guess by
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this what you are, being a man. Truly the lady
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fathers herself.--Be happy, lady, for you are like
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an honorable father.
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[Leonato and the Prince move aside.]
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BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, she would
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not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina,
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as like him as she is.
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BEATRICE I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior
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Benedick, nobody marks you.
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BENEDICK What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet
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living?
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BEATRICE Is it possible disdain should die while she
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hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?
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Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come
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in her presence.
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BENEDICK Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain
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I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and
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I would I could find in my heart that I had not a
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hard heart, for truly I love none.
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BEATRICE A dear happiness to women. They would
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else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I
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thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor
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for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow
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than a man swear he loves me.
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BENEDICK God keep your Ladyship still in that mind,
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so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate
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scratched face.
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BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse an
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'twere such a face as yours were.
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BENEDICK Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
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BEATRICE A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of
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yours.
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BENEDICK I would my horse had the speed of your
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tongue and so good a continuer, but keep your
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way, i' God's name, I have done.
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BEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick. I know
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you of old.
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[Leonato and the Prince come forward.]
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PRINCE That is the sum of all, Leonato.--Signior
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Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend
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Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay
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here at the least a month, and he heartily prays
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some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear
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he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart.
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LEONATO If you swear, my lord, you shall not be
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forsworn. [To Don John.] Let me bid you welcome,
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my lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother,
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I owe you all duty.
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DON JOHN I thank you. I am not of many words, but I
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thank you.
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LEONATO Please it your Grace lead on?
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PRINCE Your hand, Leonato. We will go together.
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[All exit except Benedick and Claudio.]
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CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of
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Signior Leonato?
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BENEDICK I noted her not, but I looked on her.
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CLAUDIO Is she not a modest young lady?
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BENEDICK Do you question me as an honest man
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should do, for my simple true judgment? Or would
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you have me speak after my custom, as being a
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professed tyrant to their sex?
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CLAUDIO No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment.
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BENEDICK Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a
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high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too
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little for a great praise. Only this commendation I
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can afford her, that were she other than she is, she
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were unhandsome, and being no other but as she is,
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I do not like her.
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CLAUDIO Thou thinkest I am in sport. I pray thee tell
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me truly how thou lik'st her.
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BENEDICK Would you buy her that you enquire after
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her?
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CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel?
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BENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you
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this with a sad brow? Or do you play the flouting
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jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and
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Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a
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man take you to go in the song?
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CLAUDIO In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever
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I looked on.
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BENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles, and I see
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no such matter. There's her cousin, an she were not
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possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in
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beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.
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But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have
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you?
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CLAUDIO I would scarce trust myself, though I had
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sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.
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BENEDICK Is 't come to this? In faith, hath not the
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world one man but he will wear his cap with
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suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore
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again? Go to, i' faith, an thou wilt needs thrust
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thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh
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away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is returned to seek
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you.
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[Enter Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon.]
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PRINCE What secret hath held you here that you followed
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not to Leonato's?
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BENEDICK I would your Grace would constrain me to
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tell.
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PRINCE I charge thee on thy allegiance.
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BENEDICK You hear, Count Claudio, I can be secret as
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a dumb man, I would have you think so, but on my
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allegiance--mark you this, on my allegiance--he
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is in love. With who? Now, that is your Grace's part.
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Mark how short his answer is: with Hero, Leonato's
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short daughter.
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CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered.
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BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord: "It is not so, nor
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'twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be
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so."
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CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid
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it should be otherwise.
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PRINCE Amen, if you love her, for the lady is very well
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worthy.
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CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.
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PRINCE By my troth, I speak my thought.
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CLAUDIO And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.
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BENEDICK And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I
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spoke mine.
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CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel.
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PRINCE That she is worthy, I know.
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BENEDICK That I neither feel how she should be loved
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nor know how she should be worthy is the opinion
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that fire cannot melt out of me. I will die in it at the
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stake.
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PRINCE Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the
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despite of beauty.
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CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part but in the
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force of his will.
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BENEDICK That a woman conceived me, I thank her;
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that she brought me up, I likewise give her most
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humble thanks. But that I will have a recheat
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winded in my forehead or hang my bugle in an
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invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me.
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Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust
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any, I will do myself the right to trust none. And the
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fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a
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bachelor.
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PRINCE I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.
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BENEDICK With anger, with sickness, or with hunger,
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my lord, not with love. Prove that ever I lose more
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blood with love than I will get again with drinking,
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pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen and
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hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the
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sign of blind Cupid.
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PRINCE Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou
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wilt prove a notable argument.
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BENEDICK If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and
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shoot at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapped
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on the shoulder and called Adam.
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PRINCE Well, as time shall try.
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In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.
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BENEDICK The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible
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Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set
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them in my forehead, and let me be vilely painted,
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and in such great letters as they write "Here is good
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horse to hire" let them signify under my sign "Here
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you may see Benedick the married man."
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CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be
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horn-mad.
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PRINCE Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in
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Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.
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BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too, then.
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PRINCE Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the
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meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's.
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Commend me to him, and tell him I will not
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fail him at supper, for indeed he hath made great
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preparation.
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BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such
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an embassage, and so I commit you--
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CLAUDIO To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had
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it--
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PRINCE The sixth of July. Your loving friend,
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Benedick.
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BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your
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discourse is sometimes guarded with fragments,
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and the guards are but slightly basted on neither.
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Ere you flout old ends any further, examine your
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conscience. And so I leave you. [He exits.]
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CLAUDIO
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My liege, your Highness now may do me good.
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PRINCE
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My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how,
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And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
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Any hard lesson that may do thee good.
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CLAUDIO
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Hath Leonato any son, my lord?
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PRINCE
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No child but Hero; she's his only heir.
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Dost thou affect her, Claudio?
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CLAUDIO O, my lord,
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When you went onward on this ended action,
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I looked upon her with a soldier's eye,
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That liked, but had a rougher task in hand
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Than to drive liking to the name of love.
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But now I am returned and that war thoughts
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Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
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Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
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All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
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Saying I liked her ere I went to wars.
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PRINCE
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Thou wilt be like a lover presently
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And tire the hearer with a book of words.
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If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,
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And I will break with her and with her father,
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And thou shalt have her. Was 't not to this end
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That thou began'st to twist so fine a story?
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CLAUDIO
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How sweetly you do minister to love,
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That know love's grief by his complexion!
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But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
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I would have salved it with a longer treatise.
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PRINCE
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What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
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The fairest grant is the necessity.
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Look what will serve is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest,
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And I will fit thee with the remedy.
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I know we shall have reveling tonight.
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I will assume thy part in some disguise
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And tell fair Hero I am Claudio,
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And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart
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And take her hearing prisoner with the force
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And strong encounter of my amorous tale.
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Then after to her father will I break,
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And the conclusion is, she shall be thine.
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In practice let us put it presently.
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[They exit.]
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Scene 2
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=======
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[Enter Leonato, meeting an old man, brother to
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Leonato.]
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LEONATO How now, brother, where is my cousin, your
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son? Hath he provided this music?
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LEONATO'S BROTHER He is very busy about it. But,
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brother, I can tell you strange news that you yet
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dreamt not of.
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LEONATO Are they good?
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LEONATO'S BROTHER As the events stamps them, but
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they have a good cover; they show well outward.
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The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached
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alley in mine orchard, were thus much
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overheard by a man of mine: the Prince discovered
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to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter and
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meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if
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he found her accordant, he meant to take the
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present time by the top and instantly break with you
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of it.
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LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER A good sharp fellow. I will send
|
|
for him, and question him yourself.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO No, no, we will hold it as a dream till it
|
|
appear itself. But I will acquaint my daughter
|
|
withal, that she may be the better prepared for an
|
|
answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell
|
|
her of it.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Antonio's son, with a Musician and Attendants.]
|
|
|
|
Cousins, you know what you have to do.--O, I cry
|
|
you mercy, friend. Go you with me and I will use
|
|
your skill.--Good cousin, have a care this busy
|
|
time.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Sir John the Bastard, and Conrade, his
|
|
companion.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
CONRADE What the goodyear, my lord, why are you
|
|
thus out of measure sad?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that
|
|
breeds. Therefore the sadness is without limit.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE You should hear reason.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN And when I have heard it, what blessing
|
|
brings it?
|
|
|
|
CONRADE If not a present remedy, at least a patient
|
|
sufferance.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayst thou
|
|
art, born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral
|
|
medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide
|
|
what I am. I must be sad when I have cause, and
|
|
smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach,
|
|
and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am
|
|
drowsy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when
|
|
I am merry, and claw no man in his humor.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Yea, but you must not make the full show of
|
|
this till you may do it without controlment. You
|
|
have of late stood out against your brother, and he
|
|
hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is
|
|
impossible you should take true root but by the fair
|
|
weather that you make yourself. It is needful that
|
|
you frame the season for your own harvest.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a
|
|
rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be
|
|
disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob
|
|
love from any. In this, though I cannot be said to be
|
|
a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I
|
|
am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a
|
|
muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I
|
|
have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my
|
|
mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do
|
|
my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and
|
|
seek not to alter me.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who
|
|
comes here?
|
|
|
|
[Enter Borachio.]
|
|
|
|
What news, Borachio?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO I came yonder from a great supper. The
|
|
Prince your brother is royally entertained by
|
|
Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an
|
|
intended marriage.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief
|
|
on? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to
|
|
unquietness?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Marry, it is your brother's right hand.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Who, the most exquisite Claudio?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Even he.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN A proper squire. And who, and who? Which
|
|
way looks he?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of
|
|
Leonato.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN A very forward March chick! How came you
|
|
to this?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was
|
|
smoking a musty room, comes me the Prince and
|
|
Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference. I
|
|
whipped me behind the arras, and there heard it
|
|
agreed upon that the Prince should woo Hero for
|
|
himself, and having obtained her, give her to Count
|
|
Claudio.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Come, come, let us thither. This may prove
|
|
food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath
|
|
all the glory of my overthrow. If I can cross him any
|
|
way, I bless myself every way. You are both sure, and
|
|
will assist me?
|
|
|
|
CONRADE To the death, my lord.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Let us to the great supper. Their cheer is the
|
|
greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were o'
|
|
my mind! Shall we go prove what's to be done?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO We'll wait upon your Lordship.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 2
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Leonato, his brother, Hero his daughter, and
|
|
Beatrice his niece, with Ursula and Margaret.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Was not Count John here at supper?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER I saw him not.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I never
|
|
can see him but I am heartburned an hour after.
|
|
|
|
HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE He were an excellent man that were made
|
|
just in the midway between him and Benedick. The
|
|
one is too like an image and says nothing, and the
|
|
other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore
|
|
tattling.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in
|
|
Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy
|
|
in Signior Benedick's face--
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and
|
|
money enough in his purse, such a man would win
|
|
any woman in the world if he could get her
|
|
goodwill.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a
|
|
husband if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER In faith, she's too curst.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Too curst is more than curst. I shall lessen
|
|
God's sending that way, for it is said "God sends a
|
|
curst cow short horns," but to a cow too curst, he
|
|
sends none.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO So, by being too curst, God will send you no
|
|
horns.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Just, if He send me no husband, for the
|
|
which blessing I am at Him upon my knees every
|
|
morning and evening. Lord, I could not endure a
|
|
husband with a beard on his face. I had rather lie in
|
|
the woolen!
|
|
|
|
LEONATO You may light on a husband that hath no
|
|
beard.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE What should I do with him? Dress him in my
|
|
apparel and make him my waiting gentlewoman?
|
|
He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he
|
|
that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is
|
|
more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less
|
|
than a man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even
|
|
take sixpence in earnest of the bearherd, and lead
|
|
his apes into hell.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Well then, go you into hell?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE No, but to the gate, and there will the devil
|
|
meet me like an old cuckold with horns on his
|
|
head, and say "Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you
|
|
to heaven; here's no place for you maids." So deliver
|
|
I up my apes and away to Saint Peter; for the
|
|
heavens, he shows me where the bachelors sit, and
|
|
there live we as merry as the day is long.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER, [to Hero] Well, niece, I trust you
|
|
will be ruled by your father.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Yes, faith, it is my cousin's duty to make
|
|
curtsy and say "Father, as it please you." But yet for
|
|
all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or
|
|
else make another curtsy and say "Father, as it
|
|
please me."
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted
|
|
with a husband.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Not till God make men of some other metal
|
|
than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be
|
|
overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? To make
|
|
an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?
|
|
No, uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren,
|
|
and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO, [to Hero] Daughter, remember what I told
|
|
you. If the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you
|
|
know your answer.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you
|
|
be not wooed in good time. If the Prince be too
|
|
important, tell him there is measure in everything,
|
|
and so dance out the answer. For hear me, Hero,
|
|
wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a
|
|
measure, and a cinquepace. The first suit is hot and
|
|
hasty like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the
|
|
wedding, mannerly modest as a measure, full of
|
|
state and ancientry; and then comes repentance,
|
|
and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster
|
|
and faster till he sink into his grave.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church
|
|
by daylight.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO The revelers are entering, brother. Make
|
|
good room. [Leonato and his brother step aside.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter, with a Drum, Prince Pedro, Claudio, and
|
|
Benedick, Signior Antonio, and Balthasar, all in
|
|
masks, with Borachio and Don John.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [to Hero] Lady, will you walk a bout with your
|
|
friend? [They begin to dance.]
|
|
|
|
HERO So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say
|
|
nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially
|
|
when I walk away.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE With me in your company?
|
|
|
|
HERO I may say so when I please.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE And when please you to say so?
|
|
|
|
HERO When I like your favor, for God defend the lute
|
|
should be like the case.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house
|
|
is Jove.
|
|
|
|
HERO Why, then, your visor should be thatched.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Speak low if you speak love.
|
|
[They move aside;
|
|
Benedick and Margaret move forward.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [to Margaret] Well, I would you did like me.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET So would not I for your own sake, for I have
|
|
many ill qualities.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Which is one?
|
|
|
|
MARGARET I say my prayers aloud.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I love you the better; the hearers may cry
|
|
"Amen."
|
|
|
|
MARGARET God match me with a good dancer.
|
|
[They separate; Benedick moves aside;
|
|
Balthasar moves forward.]
|
|
|
|
BALTHASAR Amen.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET And God keep him out of my sight when the
|
|
dance is done. Answer, clerk.
|
|
|
|
BALTHASAR No more words. The clerk is answered.
|
|
[They move aside;
|
|
Ursula and Antonio move forward.]
|
|
|
|
URSULA I know you well enough. You are Signior
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO At a word, I am not.
|
|
|
|
URSULA I know you by the waggling of your head.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
|
|
|
|
URSULA You could never do him so ill-well unless you
|
|
were the very man. Here's his dry hand up and
|
|
down. You are he, you are he.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO At a word, I am not.
|
|
|
|
URSULA Come, come, do you think I do not know you
|
|
by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to,
|
|
mum, you are he. Graces will appear, and there's an
|
|
end.
|
|
[They move aside;
|
|
Benedick and Beatrice move forward.]
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Will you not tell me who told you so?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK No, you shall pardon me.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me who you are?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Not now.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE That I was disdainful, and that I had my
|
|
good wit out of The Hundred Merry Tales! Well, this
|
|
was Signior Benedick that said so.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK What's he?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I am sure you know him well enough.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Not I, believe me.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I pray you, what is he?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Why, he is the Prince's jester, a very dull
|
|
fool; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders.
|
|
None but libertines delight in him, and the commendation
|
|
is not in his wit but in his villainy, for he
|
|
both pleases men and angers them, and then they
|
|
laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the
|
|
fleet.I would he had boarded me.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him
|
|
what you say.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Do, do. He'll but break a comparison or two
|
|
on me, which peradventure not marked or not
|
|
laughed at strikes him into melancholy, and then
|
|
there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat
|
|
no supper that night. [Music for the dance.] We must
|
|
follow the leaders.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK In every good thing.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them
|
|
at the next turning.
|
|
[Dance. Then exit all except
|
|
Don John, Borachio, and Claudio.]
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN, [to Borachio] Sure my brother is amorous
|
|
on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break
|
|
with him about it. The ladies follow her, and but one
|
|
visor remains.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO And that is Claudio. I know him by his
|
|
bearing.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN, [to Claudio] Are not you Signior Benedick?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO You know me well. I am he.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in his
|
|
love. He is enamored on Hero. I pray you dissuade
|
|
him from her. She is no equal for his birth. You
|
|
may do the part of an honest man in it.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO How know you he loves her?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I heard him swear his affection.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO So did I too, and he swore he would marry
|
|
her tonight.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Come, let us to the banquet.
|
|
[They exit. Claudio remains.]
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [unmasking]
|
|
Thus answer I in name of Benedick,
|
|
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.
|
|
'Tis certain so. The Prince woos for himself.
|
|
Friendship is constant in all other things
|
|
Save in the office and affairs of love.
|
|
Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues.
|
|
Let every eye negotiate for itself
|
|
And trust no agent, for beauty is a witch
|
|
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
|
|
This is an accident of hourly proof,
|
|
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore, Hero.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Benedick.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Count Claudio?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Yea, the same.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Come, will you go with me?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Whither?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own
|
|
business, county. What fashion will you wear the
|
|
garland of? About your neck like an usurer's chain?
|
|
Or under your arm like a lieutenant's scarf? You
|
|
must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your
|
|
Hero.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO I wish him joy of her.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so
|
|
they sell bullocks. But did you think the Prince
|
|
would have served you thus?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO I pray you, leave me.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Ho, now you strike like the blind man.
|
|
'Twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat
|
|
the post.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Alas, poor hurt fowl, now will he creep into
|
|
sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know
|
|
me, and not know me! The Prince's fool! Ha, it may
|
|
be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but
|
|
so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so reputed!
|
|
It is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice
|
|
that puts the world into her person and so gives me
|
|
out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may.
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Prince, Hero, and Leonato.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Now, signior, where's the Count? Did you see
|
|
him?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Troth, my lord, I have played the part of
|
|
Lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a
|
|
lodge in a warren. I told him, and I think I told him
|
|
true, that your Grace had got the goodwill of this
|
|
young lady, and I offered him my company to a
|
|
willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being
|
|
forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to
|
|
be whipped.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE To be whipped? What's his fault?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK The flat transgression of a schoolboy who,
|
|
being overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it
|
|
his companion, and he steals it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The
|
|
transgression is in the stealer.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been
|
|
made, and the garland too, for the garland he
|
|
might have worn himself, and the rod he might
|
|
have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen
|
|
his bird's nest.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I will but teach them to sing and restore them
|
|
to the owner.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my
|
|
faith, you say honestly.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The
|
|
gentleman that danced with her told her she is
|
|
much wronged by you.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK O, she misused me past the endurance of a
|
|
block! An oak but with one green leaf on it would
|
|
have answered her. My very visor began to assume
|
|
life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I
|
|
had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that I
|
|
was duller than a great thaw, huddling jest upon jest
|
|
with such impossible conveyance upon me that I
|
|
stood like a man at a mark with a whole army
|
|
shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every
|
|
word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her
|
|
terminations, there were no living near her; she
|
|
would infect to the North Star. I would not marry
|
|
her though she were endowed with all that Adam
|
|
had left him before he transgressed. She would have
|
|
made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft
|
|
his club to make the fire, too. Come, talk not of her.
|
|
You shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I
|
|
would to God some scholar would conjure her, for
|
|
certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet
|
|
in hell as in a sanctuary, and people sin upon
|
|
purpose because they would go thither. So indeed
|
|
all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Claudio and Beatrice.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Look, here she comes.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Will your Grace command me any service
|
|
to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand
|
|
now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send
|
|
me on. I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the
|
|
furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of Prester
|
|
John's foot, fetch you a hair off the great Cham's
|
|
beard, do you any embassage to the Pygmies, rather
|
|
than hold three words' conference with this harpy.
|
|
You have no employment for me?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE None but to desire your good company.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK O God, sir, here's a dish I love not! I cannot
|
|
endure my Lady Tongue. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [to Beatrice] Come, lady, come, you have lost
|
|
the heart of Signior Benedick.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I
|
|
gave him use for it, a double heart for his single
|
|
one. Marry, once before he won it of me with false
|
|
dice. Therefore your Grace may well say I have lost
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE You have put him down, lady, you have put
|
|
him down.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my lord,
|
|
lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have
|
|
brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Why, how now, count, wherefore are you sad?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Not sad, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE How then, sick?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Neither, my lord.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry,
|
|
nor well, but civil count, civil as an orange, and
|
|
something of that jealous complexion.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true,
|
|
though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is
|
|
false.--Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name,
|
|
and fair Hero is won. I have broke with her father
|
|
and his goodwill obtained. Name the day of marriage,
|
|
and God give thee joy.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her
|
|
my fortunes. His Grace hath made the match, and
|
|
all grace say "Amen" to it.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Speak, count, 'tis your cue.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were
|
|
but little happy if I could say how much.--Lady, as
|
|
you are mine, I am yours. I give away myself for you
|
|
and dote upon the exchange.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Speak, cousin, or, if you cannot, stop his
|
|
mouth with a kiss and let not him speak neither.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Yea, my lord. I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on
|
|
the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear
|
|
that he is in her heart.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Good Lord for alliance! Thus goes everyone
|
|
to the world but I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a
|
|
corner and cry "Heigh-ho for a husband!"
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I would rather have one of your father's
|
|
getting. Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you?
|
|
Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could
|
|
come by them.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Will you have me, lady?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE No, my lord, unless I might have another for
|
|
working days. Your Grace is too costly to wear
|
|
every day. But I beseech your Grace pardon me. I
|
|
was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Your silence most offends me, and to be merry
|
|
best becomes you, for out o' question you were
|
|
born in a merry hour.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried, but then
|
|
there was a star danced, and under that was I
|
|
born.--Cousins, God give you joy!
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Niece, will you look to those things I told
|
|
you of?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I cry you mercy, uncle.--By your Grace's
|
|
pardon. [Beatrice exits.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO There's little of the melancholy element in
|
|
her, my lord. She is never sad but when she sleeps,
|
|
and not ever sad then, for I have heard my daughter
|
|
say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness and
|
|
waked herself with laughing.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO O, by no means. She mocks all her wooers
|
|
out of suit.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week
|
|
married, they would talk themselves mad.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE County Claudio, when mean you to go to
|
|
church?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Tomorrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches
|
|
till love have all his rites.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence
|
|
a just sevennight, and a time too brief, too, to have
|
|
all things answer my mind.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [to Claudio] Come, you shake the head at so
|
|
long a breathing, but I warrant thee, Claudio, the
|
|
time shall not go dully by us. I will in the interim
|
|
undertake one of Hercules' labors, which is to bring
|
|
Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a
|
|
mountain of affection, th' one with th' other. I
|
|
would fain have it a match, and I doubt not but to
|
|
fashion it, if you three will but minister such
|
|
assistance as I shall give you direction.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten
|
|
nights' watchings.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO And I, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE And you too, gentle Hero?
|
|
|
|
HERO I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my
|
|
cousin to a good husband.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband
|
|
that I know. Thus far can I praise him: he is of
|
|
a noble strain, of approved valor, and confirmed
|
|
honesty. I will teach you how to humor your
|
|
cousin that she shall fall in love with Benedick.--
|
|
And I, with your two helps, will so practice on
|
|
Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his
|
|
queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice.
|
|
If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his
|
|
glory shall be ours, for we are the only love gods. Go
|
|
in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Don John and Borachio.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN It is so. The Count Claudio shall marry the
|
|
daughter of Leonato.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Yea, my lord, but I can cross it.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be
|
|
med'cinable to me. I am sick in displeasure to him,
|
|
and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges
|
|
evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this
|
|
marriage?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that
|
|
no dishonesty shall appear in me.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Show me briefly how.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO I think I told your Lordship a year since,
|
|
how much I am in the favor of Margaret, the
|
|
waiting gentlewoman to Hero.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I remember.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the
|
|
night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber
|
|
window.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN What life is in that to be the death of this
|
|
marriage?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go
|
|
you to the Prince your brother; spare not to tell
|
|
him that he hath wronged his honor in marrying
|
|
the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you
|
|
mightily hold up, to a contaminated stale, such a
|
|
one as Hero.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN What proof shall I make of that?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex
|
|
Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you
|
|
for any other issue?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Only to despite them I will endeavor
|
|
anything.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don
|
|
Pedro and the Count Claudio alone. Tell them that
|
|
you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal
|
|
both to the Prince and Claudio, as in love of your
|
|
brother's honor, who hath made this match, and his
|
|
friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozened
|
|
with the semblance of a maid, that you have discovered
|
|
thus. They will scarcely believe this without
|
|
trial. Offer them instances, which shall bear no less
|
|
likelihood than to see me at her chamber window,
|
|
hear me call Margaret "Hero," hear Margaret term
|
|
me "Claudio," and bring them to see this the very
|
|
night before the intended wedding, for in the meantime
|
|
I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be
|
|
absent, and there shall appear such seeming truth
|
|
of Hero's disloyalty that jealousy shall be called
|
|
assurance and all the preparation overthrown.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will
|
|
put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this,
|
|
and thy fee is a thousand ducats.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Be you constant in the accusation, and my
|
|
cunning shall not shame me.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I will presently go learn their day of
|
|
marriage.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Benedick alone.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Boy!
|
|
|
|
[Enter Boy.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BOY Signior?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK In my chamber window lies a book. Bring it
|
|
hither to me in the orchard.
|
|
|
|
BOY I am here already, sir.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I know that, but I would have thee hence
|
|
and here again. [Boy exits.]
|
|
I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much
|
|
another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors
|
|
to love, will, after he hath laughed at such
|
|
shallow follies in others, become the argument of
|
|
his own scorn by falling in love--and such a man is
|
|
Claudio. I have known when there was no music
|
|
with him but the drum and the fife, and now had he
|
|
rather hear the tabor and the pipe; I have known
|
|
when he would have walked ten mile afoot to see a
|
|
good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake
|
|
carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont
|
|
to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest
|
|
man and a soldier, and now is he turned orthography;
|
|
his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so
|
|
many strange dishes. May I be so converted and see
|
|
with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not
|
|
be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster,
|
|
but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an
|
|
oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool.
|
|
One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet
|
|
I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all
|
|
graces be in one woman, one woman shall not
|
|
come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain;
|
|
wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen
|
|
her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not
|
|
near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good
|
|
discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall
|
|
be of what color it please God. Ha! The Prince and
|
|
Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbor.
|
|
[He hides.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthasar
|
|
with music.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Come, shall we hear this music?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is,
|
|
As hushed on purpose to grace harmony!
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [aside to Claudio]
|
|
See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince]
|
|
O, very well my lord. The music ended,
|
|
We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again.
|
|
|
|
BALTHASAR
|
|
O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
|
|
To slander music any more than once.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
It is the witness still of excellency
|
|
To put a strange face on his own perfection.
|
|
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.
|
|
|
|
BALTHASAR
|
|
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing,
|
|
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
|
|
To her he thinks not worthy, yet he woos,
|
|
Yet will he swear he loves.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Nay, pray thee, come,
|
|
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
|
|
Do it in notes.
|
|
|
|
BALTHASAR Note this before my notes:
|
|
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks!
|
|
Note notes, forsooth, and nothing. [Music plays.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [aside] Now, divine air! Now is his soul
|
|
ravished. Is it not strange that sheeps' guts should
|
|
hale souls out of men's bodies? Well, a horn for my
|
|
money, when all's done.
|
|
|
|
BALTHASAR [sings]
|
|
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
|
|
Men were deceivers ever,
|
|
One foot in sea and one on shore,
|
|
To one thing constant never.
|
|
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
|
|
And be you blithe and bonny,
|
|
Converting all your sounds of woe
|
|
Into Hey, nonny nonny.
|
|
|
|
Sing no more ditties, sing no mo,
|
|
Of dumps so dull and heavy.
|
|
The fraud of men was ever so,
|
|
Since summer first was leavy.
|
|
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
|
|
And be you blithe and bonny,
|
|
Converting all your sounds of woe
|
|
Into Hey, nonny nonny.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE By my troth, a good song.
|
|
|
|
BALTHASAR And an ill singer, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Ha, no, no, faith, thou sing'st well enough for a
|
|
shift.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [aside] An he had been a dog that should
|
|
have howled thus, they would have hanged him. And
|
|
I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief. I had as
|
|
lief have heard the night raven, come what plague
|
|
could have come after it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray
|
|
thee get us some excellent music, for tomorrow
|
|
night we would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber
|
|
window.
|
|
|
|
BALTHASAR The best I can, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Do so. Farewell. [Balthasar exits.]
|
|
Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of
|
|
today, that your niece Beatrice was in love with
|
|
Signior Benedick?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO O, ay. [Aside to Prince.] Stalk on, stalk on; the
|
|
fowl sits.--I did never think that lady would have
|
|
loved any man.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO No, nor I neither, but most wonderful that
|
|
she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she
|
|
hath in all outward behaviors seemed ever to
|
|
abhor.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [aside] Is 't possible? Sits the wind in that
|
|
corner?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to
|
|
think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged
|
|
affection, it is past the infinite of thought.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Maybe she doth but counterfeit.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Faith, like enough.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO O God! Counterfeit? There was never counterfeit
|
|
of passion came so near the life of passion as
|
|
she discovers it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Why, what effects of passion shows she?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [aside to Leonato] Bait the hook well; this fish
|
|
will bite.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO What effects, my lord? She will sit you--you
|
|
heard my daughter tell you how.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO She did indeed.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE How, how I pray you? You amaze me. I would
|
|
have thought her spirit had been invincible against
|
|
all assaults of affection.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially
|
|
against Benedick.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [aside] I should think this a gull but that the
|
|
white-bearded fellow speaks it. Knavery cannot,
|
|
sure, hide himself in such reverence.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince] He hath ta'en th' infection.
|
|
Hold it up.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Hath she made her affection known to
|
|
Benedick?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO No, and swears she never will. That's her
|
|
torment.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter says. "Shall
|
|
I," says she, "that have so oft encountered him with
|
|
scorn, write to him that I love him?"
|
|
|
|
LEONATO This says she now when she is beginning to
|
|
write to him, for she'll be up twenty times a night,
|
|
and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ
|
|
a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us all.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember
|
|
a pretty jest your daughter told us of.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO O, when she had writ it and was reading it
|
|
over, she found "Benedick" and "Beatrice" between
|
|
the sheet?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO That.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence,
|
|
railed at herself that she should be so
|
|
immodest to write to one that she knew would flout
|
|
her. "I measure him," says she, "by my own spirit,
|
|
for I should flout him if he writ to me, yea, though I
|
|
love him, I should."
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps,
|
|
sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses:
|
|
"O sweet Benedick, God give me patience!"
|
|
|
|
LEONATO She doth indeed, my daughter says so, and
|
|
the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my
|
|
daughter is sometimes afeared she will do a desperate
|
|
outrage to herself. It is very true.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE It were good that Benedick knew of it by some
|
|
other, if she will not discover it.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO To what end? He would make but a sport of it
|
|
and torment the poor lady worse.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE An he should, it were an alms to hang him.
|
|
She's an excellent sweet lady, and, out of all suspicion,
|
|
she is virtuous.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE In everything but in loving Benedick.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in
|
|
so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that
|
|
blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have
|
|
just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I would she had bestowed this dotage on me. I
|
|
would have daffed all other respects and made her
|
|
half myself. I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear
|
|
what he will say.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Were it good, think you?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Hero thinks surely she will die, for she says
|
|
she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere
|
|
she make her love known, and she will die if he woo
|
|
her rather than she will bate one breath of her
|
|
accustomed crossness.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE She doth well. If she should make tender of
|
|
her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it, for the man,
|
|
as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO He is a very proper man.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE He hath indeed a good outward happiness.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Before God, and in my mind, very wise.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE He doth indeed show some sparks that are like
|
|
wit.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO And I take him to be valiant.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing
|
|
of quarrels you may say he is wise, for either he
|
|
avoids them with great discretion or undertakes
|
|
them with a most Christianlike fear.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep
|
|
peace. If he break the peace, he ought to enter into
|
|
a quarrel with fear and trembling.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE And so will he do, for the man doth fear God,
|
|
howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests
|
|
he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall
|
|
we go seek Benedick and tell him of her love?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord, let her wear it out
|
|
with good counsel.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her
|
|
heart out first.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter.
|
|
Let it cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I
|
|
could wish he would modestly examine himself to
|
|
see how much he is unworthy so good a lady.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready.
|
|
[Leonato, Prince, and Claudio begin to exit.]
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince and Leonato] If he do not
|
|
dote on her upon this, I will never trust my
|
|
expectation.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [aside to Leonato] Let there be the same net
|
|
spread for her, and that must your daughter and her
|
|
gentlewomen carry. The sport will be when they
|
|
hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no
|
|
such matter. That's the scene that I would see,
|
|
which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her
|
|
to call him in to dinner.
|
|
[Prince, Leonato, and Claudio exit.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [coming forward] This can be no trick. The
|
|
conference was sadly borne; they have the truth of
|
|
this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady. It seems
|
|
her affections have their full bent. Love me? Why, it
|
|
must be requited! I hear how I am censured. They
|
|
say I will bear myself proudly if I perceive the love
|
|
come from her. They say, too, that she will rather
|
|
die than give any sign of affection. I did never think
|
|
to marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they
|
|
that hear their detractions and can put them to
|
|
mending. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can
|
|
bear them witness. And virtuous; 'tis so, I cannot
|
|
reprove it. And wise, but for loving me; by my troth,
|
|
it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of
|
|
her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her! I
|
|
may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of
|
|
wit broken on me because I have railed so long
|
|
against marriage, but doth not the appetite alter? A
|
|
man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot
|
|
endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and
|
|
these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the
|
|
career of his humor? No! The world must be peopled.
|
|
When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not
|
|
think I should live till I were married. Here comes
|
|
Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady. I do spy some
|
|
marks of love in her.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Beatrice.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Against my will, I am sent to bid you come
|
|
in to dinner.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks than
|
|
you take pains to thank me. If it had been painful, I
|
|
would not have come.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a
|
|
knife's point and choke a daw withal. You have no
|
|
stomach, signior. Fare you well. [She exits.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Ha! "Against my will I am sent to bid you
|
|
come in to dinner." There's a double meaning in
|
|
that. "I took no more pains for those thanks than
|
|
you took pains to thank me." That's as much as to
|
|
say "Any pains that I take for you is as easy as
|
|
thanks." If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I
|
|
do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture.
|
|
[He exits.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 3
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Hero and two gentlewomen, Margaret and Ursula.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor.
|
|
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
|
|
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio.
|
|
Whisper her ear and tell her I and Ursula
|
|
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
|
|
Is all of her. Say that thou overheardst us,
|
|
And bid her steal into the pleached bower
|
|
Where honeysuckles ripened by the sun
|
|
Forbid the sun to enter, like favorites,
|
|
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
|
|
Against that power that bred it. There will she hide
|
|
her
|
|
To listen our propose. This is thy office.
|
|
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET
|
|
I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.
|
|
[She exits.]
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
|
|
As we do trace this alley up and down,
|
|
Our talk must only be of Benedick.
|
|
When I do name him, let it be thy part
|
|
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
|
|
My talk to thee must be how Benedick
|
|
Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter
|
|
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
|
|
That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin,
|
|
For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs
|
|
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Beatrice, who hides in the bower.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
URSULA, [aside to Hero]
|
|
The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
|
|
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream
|
|
And greedily devour the treacherous bait.
|
|
So angle we for Beatrice, who even now
|
|
Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
|
|
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
|
|
|
|
HERO, [aside to Ursula]
|
|
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
|
|
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.--
|
|
[They walk near the bower.]
|
|
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful.
|
|
I know her spirits are as coy and wild
|
|
As haggards of the rock.
|
|
|
|
URSULA But are you sure
|
|
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
So says the Prince and my new-trothed lord.
|
|
|
|
URSULA
|
|
And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
They did entreat me to acquaint her of it,
|
|
But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick,
|
|
To wish him wrestle with affection
|
|
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
|
|
|
|
URSULA
|
|
Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
|
|
Deserve as full as fortunate a bed
|
|
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
O god of love! I know he doth deserve
|
|
As much as may be yielded to a man,
|
|
But Nature never framed a woman's heart
|
|
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
|
|
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
|
|
Misprizing what they look on, and her wit
|
|
Values itself so highly that to her
|
|
All matter else seems weak. She cannot love,
|
|
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
|
|
She is so self-endeared.
|
|
|
|
URSULA Sure, I think so,
|
|
And therefore certainly it were not good
|
|
She knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
|
|
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,
|
|
But she would spell him backward. If fair-faced,
|
|
She would swear the gentleman should be her
|
|
sister;
|
|
If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic,
|
|
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
|
|
If low, an agate very vilely cut;
|
|
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
|
|
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
|
|
So turns she every man the wrong side out,
|
|
And never gives to truth and virtue that
|
|
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
|
|
|
|
URSULA
|
|
Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
No, not to be so odd and from all fashions
|
|
As Beatrice is cannot be commendable.
|
|
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
|
|
She would mock me into air. O, she would laugh
|
|
me
|
|
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
|
|
Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire,
|
|
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly.
|
|
It were a better death than die with mocks,
|
|
Which is as bad as die with tickling.
|
|
|
|
URSULA
|
|
Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
No, rather I will go to Benedick
|
|
And counsel him to fight against his passion;
|
|
And truly I'll devise some honest slanders
|
|
To stain my cousin with. One doth not know
|
|
How much an ill word may empoison liking.
|
|
|
|
URSULA
|
|
O, do not do your cousin such a wrong!
|
|
She cannot be so much without true judgment,
|
|
Having so swift and excellent a wit
|
|
As she is prized to have, as to refuse
|
|
So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
He is the only man of Italy,
|
|
Always excepted my dear Claudio.
|
|
|
|
URSULA
|
|
I pray you be not angry with me, madam,
|
|
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,
|
|
For shape, for bearing, argument, and valor,
|
|
Goes foremost in report through Italy.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
|
|
|
|
URSULA
|
|
His excellence did earn it ere he had it.
|
|
When are you married, madam?
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
Why, every day, tomorrow. Come, go in.
|
|
I'll show thee some attires and have thy counsel
|
|
Which is the best to furnish me tomorrow.
|
|
[They move away from the bower.]
|
|
|
|
URSULA, [aside to Hero]
|
|
She's limed, I warrant you. We have caught her,
|
|
madam.
|
|
|
|
HERO, [aside to Ursula]
|
|
If it prove so, then loving goes by haps;
|
|
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
|
|
[Hero and Ursula exit.]
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE, [coming forward]
|
|
What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
|
|
Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?
|
|
Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!
|
|
No glory lives behind the back of such.
|
|
And Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
|
|
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.
|
|
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
|
|
To bind our loves up in a holy band.
|
|
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
|
|
Believe it better than reportingly.
|
|
[She exits.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I do but stay till your marriage be consummate,
|
|
and then go I toward Aragon.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe
|
|
me.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new
|
|
gloss of your marriage as to show a child his new
|
|
coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold
|
|
with Benedick for his company, for from the crown
|
|
of his head to the sole of his foot he is all mirth. He
|
|
hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the
|
|
little hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a
|
|
heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the
|
|
clapper, for what his heart thinks, his tongue
|
|
speaks.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO So say I. Methinks you are sadder.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO I hope he be in love.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Hang him, truant! There's no true drop of
|
|
blood in him to be truly touched with love. If he be
|
|
sad, he wants money.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I have the toothache.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Draw it.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Hang it!
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What, sigh for the toothache?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Where is but a humor or a worm.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Well, everyone can master a grief but he
|
|
that has it.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Yet say I, he is in love.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless
|
|
it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to
|
|
be a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow, or
|
|
in the shape of two countries at once, as a German
|
|
from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard
|
|
from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a
|
|
fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no
|
|
fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there
|
|
is no believing old signs. He brushes his hat o'
|
|
mornings. What should that bode?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Hath any man seen him at the barber's?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen
|
|
with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath
|
|
already stuffed tennis balls.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the
|
|
loss of a beard.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Nay, he rubs himself with civet. Can you smell
|
|
him out by that?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in
|
|
love.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Yea, or to paint himself? For the which I hear
|
|
what they say of him.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept
|
|
into a lute string and now governed by stops--
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude,
|
|
conclude, he is in love.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE That would I know, too. I warrant, one that
|
|
knows him not.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of
|
|
all, dies for him.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE She shall be buried with her face upwards.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Yet is this no charm for the toothache.--
|
|
Old signior, walk aside with me. I have studied eight
|
|
or nine wise words to speak to you, which these
|
|
hobby-horses must not hear.
|
|
[Benedick and Leonato exit.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE For my life, to break with him about Beatrice!
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this
|
|
played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two
|
|
bears will not bite one another when they meet.
|
|
|
|
[Enter John the Bastard.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN My lord and brother, God save you.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Good e'en, brother.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN If your leisure served, I would speak with
|
|
you.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE In private?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN If it please you. Yet Count Claudio may
|
|
hear, for what I would speak of concerns him.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What's the matter?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN, [to Claudio] Means your Lordship to be
|
|
married tomorrow?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE You know he does.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I
|
|
know.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO If there be any impediment, I pray you discover
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN You may think I love you not. Let that
|
|
appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I
|
|
now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds
|
|
you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect
|
|
your ensuing marriage--surely suit ill spent and
|
|
labor ill bestowed.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Why, what's the matter?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances
|
|
shortened, for she has been too long
|
|
a-talking of, the lady is disloyal.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Who, Hero?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN Even she: Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every
|
|
man's Hero.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Disloyal?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN The word is too good to paint out her
|
|
wickedness. I could say she were worse. Think you
|
|
of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not
|
|
till further warrant. Go but with me tonight, you
|
|
shall see her chamber window entered, even the
|
|
night before her wedding day. If you love her then,
|
|
tomorrow wed her. But it would better fit your
|
|
honor to change your mind.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [to Prince] May this be so?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I will not think it.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess
|
|
not that you know. If you will follow me, I will
|
|
show you enough, and when you have seen more
|
|
and heard more, proceed accordingly.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO If I see anything tonight why I should not
|
|
marry her, tomorrow in the congregation, where I
|
|
should wed, there will I shame her.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will
|
|
join with thee to disgrace her.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN I will disparage her no farther till you are
|
|
my witnesses. Bear it coldly but till midnight, and
|
|
let the issue show itself.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE O day untowardly turned!
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting!
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN O plague right well prevented! So will you
|
|
say when you have seen the sequel.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Dogberry and his compartner Verges
|
|
with the Watch.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Are you good men and true?
|
|
|
|
VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer
|
|
salvation, body and soul.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Nay, that were a punishment too good for
|
|
them if they should have any allegiance in them,
|
|
being chosen for the Prince's watch.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbor
|
|
Dogberry.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY First, who think you the most desartless
|
|
man to be constable?
|
|
|
|
FIRST WATCHMAN Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal,
|
|
for they can write and read.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Come hither, neighbor Seacoal. [Seacoal
|
|
steps forward.] God hath blessed you with a good
|
|
name. To be a well-favored man is the gift of
|
|
fortune, but to write and read comes by nature.
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL Both which, master constable--
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY You have. I knew it would be your answer.
|
|
Well, for your favor, sir, why, give God thanks, and
|
|
make no boast of it, and for your writing and
|
|
reading, let that appear when there is no need of
|
|
such vanity. You are thought here to be the most
|
|
senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch;
|
|
therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge:
|
|
you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to
|
|
bid any man stand, in the Prince's name.
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL How if he will not stand?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Why, then, take no note of him, but let him
|
|
go, and presently call the rest of the watch together
|
|
and thank God you are rid of a knave.
|
|
|
|
VERGES If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is
|
|
none of the Prince's subjects.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but
|
|
the Prince's subjects.--You shall also make no
|
|
noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and
|
|
to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured.
|
|
|
|
SECOND WATCHMAN We will rather sleep than talk.
|
|
We know what belongs to a watch.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Why, you speak like an ancient and most
|
|
quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping
|
|
should offend; only have a care that your bills be not
|
|
stolen. Well, you are to call at all the alehouses and
|
|
bid those that are drunk get them to bed.
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL How if they will not?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Why then, let them alone till they are sober.
|
|
If they make you not then the better answer, you
|
|
may say they are not the men you took them for.
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL Well, sir.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by
|
|
virtue of your office, to be no true man, and for such
|
|
kind of men, the less you meddle or make with
|
|
them, why, the more is for your honesty.
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL If we know him to be a thief, shall we not
|
|
lay hands on him?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Truly, by your office you may, but I think
|
|
they that touch pitch will be defiled. The most
|
|
peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to
|
|
let him show himself what he is and steal out of
|
|
your company.
|
|
|
|
VERGES You have been always called a merciful man,
|
|
partner.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will,
|
|
much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
|
|
|
|
VERGES, [to the Watch] If you hear a child cry in the
|
|
night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it.
|
|
|
|
SECOND WATCHMAN How if the nurse be asleep and
|
|
will not hear us?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Why, then depart in peace, and let the
|
|
child wake her with crying, for the ewe that will
|
|
not hear her lamb when it baas will never answer a
|
|
calf when he bleats.
|
|
|
|
VERGES 'Tis very true.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY This is the end of the charge. You, constable,
|
|
are to present the Prince's own person. If you
|
|
meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Nay, by 'r Lady, that I think he cannot.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on 't, with any man that
|
|
knows the statutes, he may stay him--marry, not
|
|
without the Prince be willing, for indeed the watch
|
|
ought to offend no man, and it is an offense to stay a
|
|
man against his will.
|
|
|
|
VERGES By 'r Lady, I think it be so.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Ha, ah ha!--Well, masters, goodnight. An
|
|
there be any matter of weight chances, call up me.
|
|
Keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and
|
|
goodnight.--Come, neighbor.
|
|
[Dogberry and Verges begin to exit.]
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL Well, masters, we hear our charge. Let us go
|
|
sit here upon the church bench till two, and then all
|
|
to bed.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbors. I pray
|
|
you watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the
|
|
wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil
|
|
tonight. Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you.
|
|
[Dogberry and Verges exit.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Borachio and Conrade.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO What, Conrade!
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL, [aside] Peace, stir not.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Conrade, I say!
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Here, man, I am at thy elbow.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itched, I thought there
|
|
would a scab follow.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that. And now
|
|
forward with thy tale.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Stand thee close, then, under this penthouse,
|
|
for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true
|
|
drunkard, utter all to thee.
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL, [aside] Some treason, masters. Yet stand
|
|
close.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don
|
|
John a thousand ducats.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Is it possible that any villainy should be so
|
|
dear?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible
|
|
any villainy should be so rich. For when rich
|
|
villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may
|
|
make what price they will.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE I wonder at it.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou
|
|
knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a
|
|
cloak, is nothing to a man.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Yes, it is apparel.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO I mean the fashion.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Yes, the fashion is the fashion.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Tush, I may as well say the fool's the fool.
|
|
But seest thou not what a deformed thief this
|
|
fashion is?
|
|
|
|
FIRST WATCHMAN, [aside] I know that Deformed. He
|
|
has been a vile thief this seven year. He goes up and
|
|
down like a gentleman. I remember his name.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Didst thou not hear somebody?
|
|
|
|
CONRADE No, 'twas the vane on the house.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief
|
|
this fashion is, how giddily he turns about all the
|
|
hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty,
|
|
sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers
|
|
in the reechy painting, sometimes like god Bel's
|
|
priests in the old church window, sometimes like
|
|
the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten
|
|
tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his
|
|
club?
|
|
|
|
CONRADE All this I see, and I see that the fashion wears
|
|
out more apparel than the man. But art not thou
|
|
thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast
|
|
shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the
|
|
fashion?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Not so, neither. But know that I have tonight
|
|
wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman,
|
|
by the name of Hero. She leans me out at
|
|
her mistress' chamber window, bids me a thousand
|
|
times goodnight. I tell this tale vilely. I should first
|
|
tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my master,
|
|
planted and placed and possessed by my master
|
|
Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable
|
|
amiable encounter.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE And thought they Margaret was Hero?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio,
|
|
but the devil my master knew she was Margaret;
|
|
and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them,
|
|
partly by the dark night, which did deceive them,
|
|
but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any
|
|
slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio
|
|
enraged, swore he would meet her as he was
|
|
appointed next morning at the temple, and there,
|
|
before the whole congregation, shame her with
|
|
what he saw o'ernight and send her home again
|
|
without a husband.
|
|
|
|
FIRST WATCHMAN We charge you in the Prince's name
|
|
stand!
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL Call up the right Master Constable. [Second
|
|
Watchman exits.] We have here recovered the most
|
|
dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in
|
|
the commonwealth.
|
|
|
|
FIRST WATCHMAN And one Deformed is one of them. I
|
|
know him; he wears a lock.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Second Watchman.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Masters, masters--
|
|
|
|
FIRST WATCHMAN, [to Borachio] You'll be made bring
|
|
Deformed forth, I warrant you.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY, [to Borachio and Conrade] Masters, never
|
|
speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO, [to Conrade] We are like to prove a goodly
|
|
commodity, being taken up of these men's bills.
|
|
|
|
CONRADE A commodity in question, I warrant you.--
|
|
Come, we'll obey you.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 4
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Ursula.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and
|
|
desire her to rise.
|
|
|
|
URSULA I will, lady.
|
|
|
|
HERO And bid her come hither.
|
|
|
|
URSULA Well. [Ursula exits.]
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Troth, I think your other rebato were
|
|
better.
|
|
|
|
HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET By my troth, 's not so good, and I warrant
|
|
your cousin will say so.
|
|
|
|
HERO My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll
|
|
wear none but this.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the
|
|
hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a
|
|
most rare fashion, i' faith. I saw the Duchess of
|
|
Milan's gown that they praise so.
|
|
|
|
HERO O, that exceeds, they say.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect
|
|
of yours--cloth o' gold, and cuts, and laced with
|
|
silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves,
|
|
and skirts round underborne with a bluish tinsel.
|
|
But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion,
|
|
yours is worth ten on 't.
|
|
|
|
HERO God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is
|
|
exceeding heavy.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a
|
|
man.
|
|
|
|
HERO Fie upon thee! Art not ashamed?
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Of what, lady? Of speaking honorably? Is
|
|
not marriage honorable in a beggar? Is not your
|
|
lord honorable without marriage? I think you
|
|
would have me say "Saving your reverence, a husband."
|
|
An bad thinking do not wrest true speaking,
|
|
I'll offend nobody. Is there any harm in "the heavier
|
|
for a husband"? None, I think, an it be the right
|
|
husband and the right wife. Otherwise, 'tis light and
|
|
not heavy. Ask my lady Beatrice else. Here she
|
|
comes.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Beatrice.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HERO Good morrow, coz.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero.
|
|
|
|
HERO Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Clap 's into "Light o' love." That goes
|
|
without a burden. Do you sing it, and I'll dance it.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE You light o' love with your heels! Then, if
|
|
your husband have stables enough, you'll see he
|
|
shall lack no barns.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET O, illegitimate construction! I scorn that
|
|
with my heels.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin. 'Tis time
|
|
you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill.
|
|
Heigh-ho!
|
|
|
|
MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no
|
|
more sailing by the star.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE What means the fool, trow?
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Nothing, I; but God send everyone their
|
|
heart's desire.
|
|
|
|
HERO These gloves the Count sent me, they are an
|
|
excellent perfume.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin. I cannot smell.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET A maid, and stuffed! There's goodly catching
|
|
of cold.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE O, God help me, God help me! How long
|
|
have you professed apprehension?
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit
|
|
become me rarely?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE It is not seen enough; you should wear it in
|
|
your cap. By my troth, I am sick.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Get you some of this distilled carduus benedictus
|
|
and lay it to your heart. It is the only thing for
|
|
a qualm.
|
|
|
|
HERO There thou prick'st her with a thistle.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Benedictus! Why benedictus? You have some
|
|
moral in this benedictus?
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Moral? No, by my troth, I have no moral
|
|
meaning; I meant plain holy thistle. You may think
|
|
perchance that I think you are in love. Nay, by 'r
|
|
Lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list, nor I
|
|
list not to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot
|
|
think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that
|
|
you are in love or that you will be in love or that you
|
|
can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and
|
|
now is he become a man. He swore he would never
|
|
marry, and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats
|
|
his meat without grudging. And how you may be
|
|
converted I know not, but methinks you look with
|
|
your eyes as other women do.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Not a false gallop.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Ursula.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
URSULA Madam, withdraw. The Prince, the Count,
|
|
Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of
|
|
the town are come to fetch you to church.
|
|
|
|
HERO Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good
|
|
Ursula.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 5
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Leonato, and Dogberry, the Constable, and
|
|
Verges, the Headborough.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbor?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Marry, sir, I would have some confidence
|
|
with you that decerns you nearly.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Brief, I pray you, for you see it is a busy time
|
|
with me.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Marry, this it is, sir.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Yes, in truth, it is, sir.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO What is it, my good friends?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the
|
|
matter. An old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt
|
|
as, God help, I would desire they were, but, in faith,
|
|
honest as the skin between his brows.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man
|
|
living that is an old man and no honester than I.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbor
|
|
Verges.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Neighbors, you are tedious.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY It pleases your Worship to say so, but we
|
|
are the poor duke's officers. But truly, for mine
|
|
own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find
|
|
in my heart to bestow it all of your Worship.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ah?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Yea, an 'twere a thousand pound more
|
|
than 'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your
|
|
Worship as of any man in the city, and though I be
|
|
but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.
|
|
|
|
VERGES And so am I.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Marry, sir, our watch tonight, excepting your
|
|
Worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant
|
|
knaves as any in Messina.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY A good old man, sir. He will be talking. As
|
|
they say, "When the age is in, the wit is out." God
|
|
help us, it is a world to see!--Well said, i' faith,
|
|
neighbor Verges.--Well, God's a good man. An two
|
|
men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An
|
|
honest soul, i' faith, sir, by my troth he is, as ever
|
|
broke bread, but God is to be worshiped, all men
|
|
are not alike, alas, good neighbor.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Indeed, neighbor, he comes too short of you.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO I must leave you.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have indeed
|
|
comprehended two aspicious persons, and we
|
|
would have them this morning examined before
|
|
your Worship.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Take their examination yourself and bring it
|
|
me. I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto
|
|
you.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well.
|
|
|
|
[Enter a Messenger.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your
|
|
daughter to her husband.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO I'll wait upon them. I am ready.
|
|
[He exits, with the Messenger.]
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis
|
|
Seacoal. Bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the
|
|
jail. We are now to examination these men.
|
|
|
|
VERGES And we must do it wisely.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant you.
|
|
Here's that shall drive some of them to a noncome.
|
|
Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication
|
|
and meet me at the jail.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 4
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Prince, John the Bastard, Leonato, Friar,
|
|
Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, with
|
|
Attendants.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief, only to the
|
|
plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their
|
|
particular duties afterwards.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR, [to Claudio] You come hither, my lord, to marry
|
|
this lady?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO No.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO To be married to her.--Friar, you come to
|
|
marry her.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR Lady, you come hither to be married to this
|
|
count?
|
|
|
|
HERO I do.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR If either of you know any inward impediment
|
|
why you should not be conjoined, I charge you on
|
|
your souls to utter it.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero?
|
|
|
|
HERO None, my lord.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR Know you any, count?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO I dare make his answer, none.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO O, what men dare do! What men may do!
|
|
What men daily do, not knowing what they do!
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK How now, interjections? Why, then, some
|
|
be of laughing, as ah, ha, he!
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Stand thee by, friar.--Father, by your leave,
|
|
Will you with free and unconstrained soul
|
|
Give me this maid, your daughter?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
As freely, son, as God did give her me.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
And what have I to give you back whose worth
|
|
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Nothing, unless you render her again.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.--
|
|
There, Leonato, take her back again.
|
|
Give not this rotten orange to your friend.
|
|
She's but the sign and semblance of her honor.
|
|
Behold how like a maid she blushes here!
|
|
O, what authority and show of truth
|
|
Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
|
|
Comes not that blood as modest evidence
|
|
To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,
|
|
All you that see her, that she were a maid,
|
|
By these exterior shows? But she is none.
|
|
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed.
|
|
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
What do you mean, my lord?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Not to be married,
|
|
Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Dear my lord, if you in your own proof
|
|
Have vanquished the resistance of her youth,
|
|
And made defeat of her virginity--
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
I know what you would say: if I have known her,
|
|
You will say she did embrace me as a husband,
|
|
And so extenuate the forehand sin.
|
|
No, Leonato,
|
|
I never tempted her with word too large,
|
|
But, as a brother to his sister, showed
|
|
Bashful sincerity and comely love.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
And seemed I ever otherwise to you?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Out on thee, seeming! I will write against it.
|
|
You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
|
|
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
|
|
But you are more intemperate in your blood
|
|
Than Venus, or those pampered animals
|
|
That rage in savage sensuality.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Sweet prince, why speak not you?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What should I
|
|
speak?
|
|
I stand dishonored that have gone about
|
|
To link my dear friend to a common stale.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN
|
|
Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial.
|
|
|
|
HERO True! O God!
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here?
|
|
Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother?
|
|
Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
All this is so, but what of this, my lord?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Let me but move one question to your daughter,
|
|
And by that fatherly and kindly power
|
|
That you have in her, bid her answer truly.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
O, God defend me, how am I beset!--
|
|
What kind of catechizing call you this?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
To make you answer truly to your name.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
|
|
With any just reproach?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero!
|
|
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.
|
|
What man was he talked with you yesternight
|
|
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
|
|
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
I talked with no man at that hour, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Why, then, are you no maiden.--Leonato,
|
|
I am sorry you must hear. Upon mine honor,
|
|
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count
|
|
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night
|
|
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window,
|
|
Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,
|
|
Confessed the vile encounters they have had
|
|
A thousand times in secret.
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN
|
|
Fie, fie, they are not to be named, my lord,
|
|
Not to be spoke of!
|
|
There is not chastity enough in language,
|
|
Without offense, to utter them.--Thus, pretty lady,
|
|
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been
|
|
If half thy outward graces had been placed
|
|
About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
|
|
But fare thee well, most foul, most fair. Farewell,
|
|
Thou pure impiety and impious purity.
|
|
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love
|
|
And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,
|
|
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
|
|
And never shall it more be gracious.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?
|
|
[Hero falls.]
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE
|
|
Why, how now, cousin, wherefore sink you down?
|
|
|
|
DON JOHN
|
|
Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light,
|
|
Smother her spirits up.
|
|
[Claudio, Prince, and Don John exit.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
How doth the lady?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Dead, I think.--Help, uncle!--
|
|
Hero, why Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand!
|
|
Death is the fairest cover for her shame
|
|
That may be wished for.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero? [Hero stirs.]
|
|
|
|
FRIAR, [to Hero] Have comfort, lady.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO, [to Hero]
|
|
Dost thou look up?
|
|
|
|
FRIAR Yea, wherefore should she not?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing
|
|
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
|
|
The story that is printed in her blood?--
|
|
Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes,
|
|
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
|
|
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
|
|
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
|
|
Strike at thy life. Grieved I I had but one?
|
|
Chid I for that at frugal Nature's frame?
|
|
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
|
|
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
|
|
Why had I not with charitable hand
|
|
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates,
|
|
Who, smirched thus, and mired with infamy,
|
|
I might have said "No part of it is mine;
|
|
This shame derives itself from unknown loins"?
|
|
But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
|
|
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much
|
|
That I myself was to myself not mine,
|
|
Valuing of her--why she, O she, is fall'n
|
|
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
|
|
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
|
|
And salt too little which may season give
|
|
To her foul tainted flesh!
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Sir, sir, be patient.
|
|
For my part, I am so attired in wonder
|
|
I know not what to say.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE
|
|
O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE
|
|
No, truly not, although until last night
|
|
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Confirmed, confirmed! O, that is stronger made
|
|
Which was before barred up with ribs of iron!
|
|
Would the two princes lie and Claudio lie,
|
|
Who loved her so that, speaking of her foulness,
|
|
Washed it with tears? Hence from her. Let her die!
|
|
|
|
FRIAR Hear me a little,
|
|
For I have only silent been so long,
|
|
And given way unto this course of fortune,
|
|
By noting of the lady. I have marked
|
|
A thousand blushing apparitions
|
|
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
|
|
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes,
|
|
And in her eye there hath appeared a fire
|
|
To burn the errors that these princes hold
|
|
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool,
|
|
Trust not my reading nor my observations,
|
|
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
|
|
The tenor of my book; trust not my age,
|
|
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
|
|
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
|
|
Under some biting error.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Friar, it cannot be.
|
|
Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
|
|
Is that she will not add to her damnation
|
|
A sin of perjury. She not denies it.
|
|
Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
|
|
That which appears in proper nakedness?
|
|
|
|
FRIAR
|
|
Lady, what man is he you are accused of?
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
They know that do accuse me. I know none.
|
|
If I know more of any man alive
|
|
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
|
|
Let all my sins lack mercy!--O my father,
|
|
Prove you that any man with me conversed
|
|
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
|
|
Maintained the change of words with any creature,
|
|
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!
|
|
|
|
FRIAR
|
|
There is some strange misprision in the princes.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Two of them have the very bent of honor,
|
|
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
|
|
The practice of it lives in John the Bastard,
|
|
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
I know not. If they speak but truth of her,
|
|
These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honor,
|
|
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
|
|
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
|
|
Nor age so eat up my invention,
|
|
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
|
|
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
|
|
But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,
|
|
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
|
|
Ability in means and choice of friends,
|
|
To quit me of them throughly.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR Pause awhile,
|
|
And let my counsel sway you in this case.
|
|
Your daughter here the princes left for dead.
|
|
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
|
|
And publish it that she is dead indeed.
|
|
Maintain a mourning ostentation,
|
|
And on your family's old monument
|
|
Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites
|
|
That appertain unto a burial.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
What shall become of this? What will this do?
|
|
|
|
FRIAR
|
|
Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf
|
|
Change slander to remorse. That is some good.
|
|
But not for that dream I on this strange course,
|
|
But on this travail look for greater birth.
|
|
She, dying, as it must be so maintained,
|
|
Upon the instant that she was accused,
|
|
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused
|
|
Of every hearer. For it so falls out
|
|
That what we have we prize not to the worth
|
|
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost,
|
|
Why then we rack the value, then we find
|
|
The virtue that possession would not show us
|
|
Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio.
|
|
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
|
|
Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep
|
|
Into his study of imagination,
|
|
And every lovely organ of her life
|
|
Shall come appareled in more precious habit,
|
|
More moving, delicate, and full of life,
|
|
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
|
|
Than when she lived indeed. Then shall he mourn,
|
|
If ever love had interest in his liver,
|
|
And wish he had not so accused her,
|
|
No, though he thought his accusation true.
|
|
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
|
|
Will fashion the event in better shape
|
|
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
|
|
But if all aim but this be leveled false,
|
|
The supposition of the lady's death
|
|
Will quench the wonder of her infamy.
|
|
And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
|
|
As best befits her wounded reputation,
|
|
In some reclusive and religious life,
|
|
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you.
|
|
And though you know my inwardness and love
|
|
Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio,
|
|
Yet, by mine honor, I will deal in this
|
|
As secretly and justly as your soul
|
|
Should with your body.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Being that I flow in grief,
|
|
The smallest twine may lead me.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR
|
|
'Tis well consented. Presently away,
|
|
For to strange sores strangely they strain the
|
|
cure.--
|
|
Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day
|
|
Perhaps is but prolonged. Have patience and
|
|
endure.
|
|
[All but Beatrice and Benedick exit.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I will not desire that.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE You have no reason. I do it freely.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is
|
|
wronged.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me
|
|
that would right her!
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK May a man do it?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as
|
|
you. Is not that strange?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not. It were as
|
|
possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you,
|
|
but believe me not, and yet I lie not; I confess
|
|
nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my
|
|
cousin.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me!
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Do not swear and eat it.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me, and I will
|
|
make him eat it that says I love not you.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Will you not eat your word?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devised to it. I
|
|
protest I love thee.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Why then, God forgive me.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK What offense, sweet Beatrice?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was
|
|
about to protest I loved you.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart that
|
|
none is left to protest.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Come, bid me do anything for thee.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Kill Claudio.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Ha! Not for the wide world.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE You kill me to deny it. Farewell.
|
|
[She begins to exit.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I am gone, though I am here. There is no
|
|
love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Beatrice--
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE In faith, I will go.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK We'll be friends first.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me than
|
|
fight with mine enemy.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain
|
|
that hath slandered, scorned, dishonored my kinswoman?
|
|
O, that I were a man! What, bear her in
|
|
hand until they come to take hands, and then, with
|
|
public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated
|
|
rancor--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his
|
|
heart in the marketplace.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice--
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window! A proper
|
|
saying.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Nay, but Beatrice--
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Sweet Hero, she is wronged, she is slandered,
|
|
she is undone.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Beat--
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Princes and counties! Surely a princely testimony,
|
|
a goodly count, Count Comfect, a sweet
|
|
gallant, surely! O, that I were a man for his sake! Or
|
|
that I had any friend would be a man for my sake!
|
|
But manhood is melted into curtsies, valor into
|
|
compliment, and men are only turned into tongue,
|
|
and trim ones, too. He is now as valiant as Hercules
|
|
that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a man
|
|
with wishing; therefore I will die a woman with
|
|
grieving.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love
|
|
thee.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than
|
|
swearing by it.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio
|
|
hath wronged Hero?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Enough, I am engaged. I will challenge
|
|
him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By
|
|
this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account.
|
|
As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort your
|
|
cousin. I must say she is dead, and so farewell.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter the Constables Dogberry and Verges, and the
|
|
Town Clerk, or Sexton, in gowns, with the Watch,
|
|
Conrade, and Borachio.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Is our whole dissembly appeared?
|
|
|
|
VERGES O, a stool and a cushion for the Sexton.
|
|
[A stool is brought in; the Sexton sits.]
|
|
|
|
SEXTON Which be the malefactors?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Marry, that am I, and my partner.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to
|
|
examine.
|
|
|
|
SEXTON But which are the offenders that are to be
|
|
examined? Let them come before Master
|
|
Constable.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Yea, marry, let them come before me.
|
|
[Conrade and Borachio are brought forward.]
|
|
What is your name, friend?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Borachio.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Pray, write down "Borachio."--Yours,
|
|
sirrah?
|
|
|
|
CONRADE I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is
|
|
Conrade.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Write down "Master Gentleman Conrade."--
|
|
Masters, do you serve God?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO/CONRADE Yea, sir, we hope.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Write down that they hope they serve
|
|
God; and write God first, for God defend but God
|
|
should go before such villains!--Masters, it is
|
|
proved already that you are little better than false
|
|
knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly.
|
|
How answer you for yourselves?
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Marry, sir, we say we are none.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY A marvelous witty fellow, I assure you,
|
|
but I will go about with him.--Come you hither,
|
|
sirrah, a word in your ear. Sir, I say to you it is
|
|
thought you are false knaves.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Sir, I say to you we are none.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Well, stand aside.--'Fore God, they are
|
|
both in a tale. Have you writ down that they are
|
|
none?
|
|
|
|
SEXTON Master constable, you go not the way to
|
|
examine. You must call forth the watch that are
|
|
their accusers.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Yea, marry, that's the eftest way.--Let
|
|
the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you in the
|
|
Prince's name, accuse these men.
|
|
|
|
FIRST WATCHMAN This man said, sir, that Don John, the
|
|
Prince's brother, was a villain.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Write down Prince John a villain. Why,
|
|
this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain!
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Master constable--
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Pray thee, fellow, peace. I do not like thy
|
|
look, I promise thee.
|
|
|
|
SEXTON, [to Watch] What heard you him say else?
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL Marry, that he had received a thousand
|
|
ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero
|
|
wrongfully.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Flat burglary as ever was committed.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Yea, by Mass, that it is.
|
|
|
|
SEXTON What else, fellow?
|
|
|
|
FIRST WATCHMAN And that Count Claudio did mean,
|
|
upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole
|
|
assembly, and not marry her.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY, [to Borachio] O, villain! Thou wilt be condemned
|
|
into everlasting redemption for this!
|
|
|
|
SEXTON What else?
|
|
|
|
SEACOAL This is all.
|
|
|
|
SEXTON And this is more, masters, than you can deny.
|
|
Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away.
|
|
Hero was in this manner accused, in this very
|
|
manner refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly
|
|
died.--Master constable, let these men be bound
|
|
and brought to Leonato's. I will go before and show
|
|
him their examination. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Come, let them be opinioned.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Let them be in the hands--
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Off, coxcomb!
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY God's my life, where's the Sexton? Let
|
|
him write down the Prince's officer "coxcomb."
|
|
Come, bind them.--Thou naughty varlet!
|
|
|
|
CONRADE Away! You are an ass, you are an ass!
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost
|
|
thou not suspect my years? O, that he were here to
|
|
write me down an ass! But masters, remember that
|
|
I am an ass, though it be not written down, yet
|
|
forget not that I am an ass.--No, thou villain, thou
|
|
art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by
|
|
good witness. I am a wise fellow and, which is more,
|
|
an officer and, which is more, a householder and,
|
|
which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in
|
|
Messina, and one that knows the law, go to, and a
|
|
rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow that hath had
|
|
losses, and one that hath two gowns and everything
|
|
handsome about him.--Bring him away.--O, that I
|
|
had been writ down an ass!
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 5
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Leonato and his brother.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself,
|
|
And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief
|
|
Against yourself.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
|
|
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
|
|
As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel,
|
|
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear
|
|
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
|
|
Bring me a father that so loved his child,
|
|
Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine,
|
|
And bid him speak of patience.
|
|
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
|
|
And let it answer every strain for strain,
|
|
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
|
|
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form.
|
|
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
|
|
Bid sorrow wag, cry "hem" when he should
|
|
groan,
|
|
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
|
|
With candle-wasters, bring him yet to me,
|
|
And I of him will gather patience.
|
|
But there is no such man. For, brother, men
|
|
Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
|
|
Which they themselves not feel, but tasting it,
|
|
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
|
|
Would give preceptial med'cine to rage,
|
|
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
|
|
Charm ache with air and agony with words.
|
|
No, no, 'tis all men's office to speak patience
|
|
To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
|
|
But no man's virtue nor sufficiency
|
|
To be so moral when he shall endure
|
|
The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel.
|
|
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
Therein do men from children nothing differ.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood,
|
|
For there was never yet philosopher
|
|
That could endure the toothache patiently,
|
|
However they have writ the style of gods
|
|
And made a push at chance and sufferance.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself.
|
|
Make those that do offend you suffer too.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
There thou speak'st reason. Nay, I will do so.
|
|
My soul doth tell me Hero is belied,
|
|
And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince
|
|
And all of them that thus dishonor her.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Prince and Claudio.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Good e'en, good e'en.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Good day to both of you.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Hear you, my lords--
|
|
|
|
PRINCE We have some haste,
|
|
Leonato.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Some haste, my lord! Well, fare you well, my lord.
|
|
Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
If he could right himself with quarrelling,
|
|
Some of us would lie low.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Who wrongs him?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou.
|
|
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword.
|
|
I fear thee not.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand
|
|
If it should give your age such cause of fear.
|
|
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me.
|
|
I speak not like a dotard nor a fool,
|
|
As under privilege of age to brag
|
|
What I have done being young, or what would do
|
|
Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,
|
|
Thou hast so wronged mine innocent child and me
|
|
That I am forced to lay my reverence by,
|
|
And with gray hairs and bruise of many days
|
|
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.
|
|
I say thou hast belied mine innocent child.
|
|
Thy slander hath gone through and through her
|
|
heart,
|
|
And she lies buried with her ancestors,
|
|
O, in a tomb where never scandal slept,
|
|
Save this of hers, framed by thy villainy.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
My villainy?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Thine, Claudio, thine, I say.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
You say not right, old man.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO My lord, my lord,
|
|
I'll prove it on his body if he dare,
|
|
Despite his nice fence and his active practice,
|
|
His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Away! I will not have to do with you.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast killed my child.
|
|
If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
He shall kill two of us, and men indeed,
|
|
But that's no matter. Let him kill one first.
|
|
Win me and wear me! Let him answer me.--
|
|
Come, follow me, boy. Come, sir boy, come, follow
|
|
me.
|
|
Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence,
|
|
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Brother--
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece,
|
|
And she is dead, slandered to death by villains
|
|
That dare as well answer a man indeed
|
|
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.--
|
|
Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops!
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Brother Anthony--
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea,
|
|
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple--
|
|
Scambling, outfacing, fashionmonging boys,
|
|
That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander,
|
|
Go anticly and show outward hideousness,
|
|
And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words
|
|
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst,
|
|
And this is all.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO But brother Anthony--
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER Come, 'tis no matter.
|
|
Do not you meddle. Let me deal in this.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.
|
|
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death,
|
|
But, on my honor, she was charged with nothing
|
|
But what was true and very full of proof.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO My lord, my lord--
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I will not hear you.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
No? Come, brother, away. I will be heard.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
And shall, or some of us will smart for it.
|
|
[Leonato and his brother exit.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Benedick.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
See, see, here comes the man we went to seek.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Now, signior, what news?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [to Prince] Good day, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Welcome, signior. You are almost come to
|
|
part almost a fray.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses
|
|
snapped off with two old men without teeth.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Leonato and his brother. What think'st thou?
|
|
Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too
|
|
young for them.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valor. I
|
|
came to seek you both.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee, for
|
|
we are high-proof melancholy and would fain have
|
|
it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have
|
|
been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do
|
|
the minstrels: draw to pleasure us.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE As I am an honest man, he looks pale.--Art
|
|
thou sick, or angry?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [to Benedick] What, courage, man! What
|
|
though care killed a cat? Thou hast mettle enough
|
|
in thee to kill care.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an
|
|
you charge it against me. I pray you, choose another
|
|
subject.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [to Prince] Nay, then, give him another staff.
|
|
This last was broke 'cross.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE By this light, he changes more and more. I
|
|
think he be angry indeed.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge!
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [aside to Claudio] You are a villain. I jest
|
|
not. I will make it good how you dare, with what you
|
|
dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will
|
|
protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet
|
|
lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me
|
|
hear from you.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Well, I will meet you, so I may have good
|
|
cheer.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What, a feast, a feast?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO I' faith, I thank him. He hath bid me to a
|
|
calf's head and a capon, the which if I do not carve
|
|
most curiously, say my knife's naught. Shall I not
|
|
find a woodcock too?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the
|
|
other day. I said thou hadst a fine wit. "True," said
|
|
she, "a fine little one." "No," said I, "a great wit."
|
|
"Right," says she, "a great gross one." "Nay," said I,
|
|
"a good wit." "Just," said she, "it hurts nobody."
|
|
"Nay," said I, "the gentleman is wise." "Certain,"
|
|
said she, "a wise gentleman." "Nay," said I, "he
|
|
hath the tongues." "That I believe," said she, "for he
|
|
swore a thing to me on Monday night which he
|
|
forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double
|
|
tongue, there's two tongues." Thus did she an hour
|
|
together transshape thy particular virtues. Yet at
|
|
last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the
|
|
proper'st man in Italy.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily and said she
|
|
cared not.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Yea, that she did. But yet for all that, an if she
|
|
did not hate him deadly, she would love him
|
|
dearly. The old man's daughter told us all.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO All, all. And, moreover, God saw him when
|
|
he was hid in the garden.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE But when shall we set the savage bull's horns
|
|
on the sensible Benedick's head?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath: "Here dwells Benedick,
|
|
the married man"?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Fare you well, boy. You know my mind. I
|
|
will leave you now to your gossip-like humor. You
|
|
break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God
|
|
be thanked, hurt not.--My lord, for your many
|
|
courtesies I thank you. I must discontinue your
|
|
company. Your brother the Bastard is fled from
|
|
Messina. You have among you killed a sweet and
|
|
innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and
|
|
I shall meet, and till then peace be with him.
|
|
[Benedick exits.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE He is in earnest.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO In most profound earnest, and, I'll warrant
|
|
you, for the love of Beatrice.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE And hath challenged thee?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Most sincerely.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his
|
|
doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape
|
|
a doctor to such a man.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE But soft you, let me be. Pluck up, my heart,
|
|
and be sad. Did he not say my brother was fled?
|
|
|
|
[Enter Constables Dogberry and Verges, and the Watch,
|
|
with Conrade and Borachio.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Come you, sir. If justice cannot tame you,
|
|
she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance.
|
|
Nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must
|
|
be looked to.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE How now, two of my brother's men bound?
|
|
Borachio one!
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Hearken after their offense, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Officers, what offense have these men done?
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Marry, sir, they have committed false
|
|
report; moreover, they have spoken untruths;
|
|
secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they
|
|
have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust
|
|
things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I
|
|
ask thee what's their offense; sixth and lastly, why
|
|
they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay
|
|
to their charge.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Rightly reasoned, and in his own division;
|
|
and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [to Borachio and Conrade] Who have you offended,
|
|
masters, that you are thus bound to your
|
|
answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be
|
|
understood. What's your offense?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine
|
|
answer. Do you hear me, and let this count kill me.
|
|
I have deceived even your very eyes. What your
|
|
wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools
|
|
have brought to light, who in the night overheard
|
|
me confessing to this man how Don John your
|
|
brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero, how
|
|
you were brought into the orchard and saw me
|
|
court Margaret in Hero's garments, how you disgraced
|
|
her when you should marry her. My villainy
|
|
they have upon record, which I had rather seal with
|
|
my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is
|
|
dead upon mine and my master's false accusation.
|
|
And, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a
|
|
villain.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [to Claudio]
|
|
Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [to Borachio]
|
|
But did my brother set thee on to this?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
He is composed and framed of treachery,
|
|
And fled he is upon this villainy.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear
|
|
In the rare semblance that I loved it first.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Come, bring away the plaintiffs. By this
|
|
time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of
|
|
the matter. And, masters, do not forget to specify,
|
|
when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
|
|
|
|
VERGES Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato,
|
|
and the Sexton too.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Leonato, his brother, and the Sexton.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes,
|
|
That, when I note another man like him,
|
|
I may avoid him. Which of these is he?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO
|
|
If you would know your wronger, look on me.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killed
|
|
Mine innocent child?
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO Yea, even I alone.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
No, not so, villain, thou beliest thyself.
|
|
Here stand a pair of honorable men--
|
|
A third is fled--that had a hand in it.--
|
|
I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death.
|
|
Record it with your high and worthy deeds.
|
|
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
I know not how to pray your patience,
|
|
Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself.
|
|
Impose me to what penance your invention
|
|
Can lay upon my sin. Yet sinned I not
|
|
But in mistaking.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE By my soul, nor I,
|
|
And yet to satisfy this good old man
|
|
I would bend under any heavy weight
|
|
That he'll enjoin me to.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
I cannot bid you bid my daughter live--
|
|
That were impossible--but, I pray you both,
|
|
Possess the people in Messina here
|
|
How innocent she died. And if your love
|
|
Can labor aught in sad invention,
|
|
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb
|
|
And sing it to her bones. Sing it tonight.
|
|
Tomorrow morning come you to my house,
|
|
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
|
|
Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter,
|
|
Almost the copy of my child that's dead,
|
|
And she alone is heir to both of us.
|
|
Give her the right you should have giv'n her cousin,
|
|
And so dies my revenge.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO O, noble sir!
|
|
Your overkindness doth wring tears from me.
|
|
I do embrace your offer and dispose
|
|
For henceforth of poor Claudio.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Tomorrow then I will expect your coming.
|
|
Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man
|
|
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
|
|
Who I believe was packed in all this wrong,
|
|
Hired to it by your brother.
|
|
|
|
BORACHIO No, by my soul, she was not,
|
|
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,
|
|
But always hath been just and virtuous
|
|
In anything that I do know by her.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY, [to Leonato] Moreover, sir, which indeed is
|
|
not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the
|
|
offender, did call me ass. I beseech you, let it be
|
|
remembered in his punishment. And also the watch
|
|
heard them talk of one Deformed. They say he
|
|
wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging by it and
|
|
borrows money in God's name, the which he hath
|
|
used so long and never paid that now men grow
|
|
hardhearted and will lend nothing for God's sake.
|
|
Pray you, examine him upon that point.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY Your Worship speaks like a most thankful
|
|
and reverent youth, and I praise God for you.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO, [giving him money] There's for thy pains.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY God save the foundation.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I
|
|
thank thee.
|
|
|
|
DOGBERRY I leave an arrant knave with your Worship,
|
|
which I beseech your Worship to correct
|
|
yourself, for the example of others. God keep your
|
|
Worship! I wish your Worship well. God restore you
|
|
to health. I humbly give you leave to depart, and if a
|
|
merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it.--
|
|
Come, neighbor. [Dogberry and Verges exit.]
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
Farewell, my lords. We look for you tomorrow.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
We will not fail.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Tonight I'll mourn with Hero.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO, [to Watch]
|
|
Bring you these fellows on.--We'll talk with
|
|
Margaret,
|
|
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Benedick and Margaret.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve
|
|
well at my hands by helping me to the speech of
|
|
Beatrice.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise
|
|
of my beauty?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man
|
|
living shall come over it, for in most comely truth
|
|
thou deservest it.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET To have no man come over me? Why, shall I
|
|
always keep below stairs?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's
|
|
mouth; it catches.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils,
|
|
which hit but hurt not.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt
|
|
a woman. And so, I pray thee, call Beatrice. I give
|
|
thee the bucklers.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our
|
|
own.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK If you use them, Margaret, you must put in
|
|
the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous
|
|
weapons for maids.
|
|
|
|
MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I
|
|
think hath legs.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK And therefore will come.
|
|
[Margaret exits.]
|
|
[Sings] The god of love
|
|
That sits above,
|
|
And knows me, and knows me,
|
|
How pitiful I deserve--
|
|
I mean in singing. But in loving, Leander the good
|
|
swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and
|
|
a whole book full of these quondam carpetmongers,
|
|
whose names yet run smoothly in the even
|
|
road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly
|
|
turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry,
|
|
I cannot show it in rhyme. I have tried. I can find out
|
|
no rhyme to "lady" but "baby"--an innocent
|
|
rhyme; for "scorn," "horn"--a hard rhyme; for
|
|
"school," "fool"--a babbling rhyme; very ominous
|
|
endings. No, I was not born under a rhyming
|
|
planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Beatrice.]
|
|
|
|
Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called
|
|
thee?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK O, stay but till then!
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE "Then" is spoken. Fare you well now. And
|
|
yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came, which is,
|
|
with knowing what hath passed between you and
|
|
Claudio.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss
|
|
thee.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is
|
|
but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome. Therefore
|
|
I will depart unkissed.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of his right
|
|
sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee
|
|
plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either
|
|
I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe
|
|
him a coward. And I pray thee now tell me, for
|
|
which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love
|
|
with me?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE For them all together, which maintained so
|
|
politic a state of evil that they will not admit any
|
|
good part to intermingle with them. But for which
|
|
of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Suffer love! A good epithet. I do suffer love
|
|
indeed, for I love thee against my will.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor
|
|
heart, if you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for
|
|
yours, for I will never love that which my friend
|
|
hates.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE It appears not in this confession. There's not
|
|
one wise man among twenty that will praise
|
|
himself.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived
|
|
in the time of good neighbors. If a man do not erect
|
|
in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no
|
|
longer in monument than the bell rings and the
|
|
widow weeps.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE And how long is that, think you?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Question: why, an hour in clamor and a
|
|
quarter in rheum. Therefore is it most expedient for
|
|
the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no
|
|
impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of
|
|
his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for
|
|
praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is
|
|
praiseworthy. And now tell me, how doth your
|
|
cousin?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Very ill.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK And how do you?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Very ill, too.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I
|
|
leave you too, for here comes one in haste.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Ursula.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
URSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's
|
|
old coil at home. It is proved my Lady Hero
|
|
hath been falsely accused, the Prince and Claudio
|
|
mightily abused, and Don John is the author of all,
|
|
who is fled and gone. Will you come presently?
|
|
[Ursula exits.]
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, signior?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be
|
|
buried in thy eyes--and, moreover, I will go with
|
|
thee to thy uncle's.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or four Lords with
|
|
tapers, and Musicians.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato?
|
|
|
|
FIRST LORD It is, my lord.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [reading an Epitaph.]
|
|
|
|
Done to death by slanderous tongues
|
|
Was the Hero that here lies.
|
|
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
|
|
Gives her fame which never dies.
|
|
So the life that died with shame
|
|
Lives in death with glorious fame.
|
|
[He hangs up the scroll.]
|
|
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
|
|
Praising her when I am dumb.
|
|
Now music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
|
|
|
|
Song
|
|
|
|
Pardon, goddess of the night,
|
|
Those that slew thy virgin knight,
|
|
For the which with songs of woe,
|
|
Round about her tomb they go.
|
|
Midnight, assist our moan.
|
|
Help us to sigh and groan
|
|
Heavily, heavily.
|
|
Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
|
|
Till death be uttered,
|
|
Heavily, heavily.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Now, unto thy bones, goodnight.
|
|
Yearly will I do this rite.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Good morrow, masters. Put your torches out.
|
|
The wolves have preyed, and look, the gentle day
|
|
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about
|
|
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray.
|
|
Thanks to you all, and leave us. Fare you well.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Good morrow, masters. Each his several way.
|
|
[Lords and Musicians exit.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds,
|
|
And then to Leonato's we will go.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
And Hymen now with luckier issue speed 's,
|
|
Than this for whom we rendered up this woe.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 4
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Leonato, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula,
|
|
Leonato's brother, Friar, Hero.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FRIAR
|
|
Did I not tell you she was innocent?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
So are the Prince and Claudio, who accused her
|
|
Upon the error that you heard debated.
|
|
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
|
|
Although against her will, as it appears
|
|
In the true course of all the question.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
Well, I am glad that all things sorts so well.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
And so am I, being else by faith enforced
|
|
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
|
|
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
|
|
And when I send for you, come hither masked.
|
|
The Prince and Claudio promised by this hour
|
|
To visit me.--You know your office, brother.
|
|
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
|
|
And give her to young Claudio. [The ladies exit.]
|
|
|
|
LEONATO'S BROTHER
|
|
Which I will do with confirmed countenance.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR To do what, signior?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
To bind me, or undo me, one of them.--
|
|
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
|
|
Your niece regards me with an eye of favor.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
That eye my daughter lent her; 'tis most true.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
And I do with an eye of love requite her.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
The sight whereof I think you had from me,
|
|
From Claudio, and the Prince. But what's your will?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical.
|
|
But for my will, my will is your goodwill
|
|
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined
|
|
In the state of honorable marriage--
|
|
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
My heart is with your liking.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR And my help.
|
|
Here comes the Prince and Claudio.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Prince, and Claudio, and two or three other.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Good morrow to this fair assembly.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio.
|
|
We here attend you. Are you yet determined
|
|
Today to marry with my brother's daughter?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
I'll hold my mind were she an Ethiope.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Call her forth, brother. Here's the Friar ready.
|
|
[Leonato's brother exits.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter
|
|
That you have such a February face,
|
|
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
I think he thinks upon the savage bull.
|
|
Tush, fear not, man. We'll tip thy horns with gold,
|
|
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee,
|
|
As once Europa did at lusty Jove
|
|
When he would play the noble beast in love.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low,
|
|
And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow
|
|
And got a calf in that same noble feat
|
|
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
For this I owe you. Here comes other reck'nings.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Leonato's brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret,
|
|
Ursula, the ladies masked.]
|
|
|
|
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
This same is she, and I do give you her.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Why, then, she's mine.--Sweet, let me see your face.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
No, that you shall not till you take her hand
|
|
Before this friar and swear to marry her.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO, [to Hero]
|
|
Give me your hand before this holy friar.
|
|
[They take hands.]
|
|
I am your husband, if you like of me.
|
|
|
|
HERO
|
|
And when I lived, I was your other wife,
|
|
And when you loved, you were my other husband.
|
|
[She unmasks.]
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
Another Hero!
|
|
|
|
HERO Nothing certainer.
|
|
One Hero died defiled, but I do live,
|
|
And surely as I live, I am a maid.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.
|
|
|
|
FRIAR
|
|
All this amazement can I qualify,
|
|
When after that the holy rites are ended,
|
|
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death.
|
|
Meantime let wonder seem familiar,
|
|
And to the chapel let us presently.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Soft and fair, friar.--Which is Beatrice?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE, [unmasking]
|
|
I answer to that name. What is your will?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Do not you love me?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE Why no, no more than reason.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
Why then, your uncle and the Prince and Claudio
|
|
Have been deceived. They swore you did.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE
|
|
Do not you love me?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Troth, no, no more than reason.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE
|
|
Why then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula
|
|
Are much deceived, for they did swear you did.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
They swore that you were almost sick for me.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE
|
|
They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK
|
|
'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE
|
|
No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO
|
|
Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO
|
|
And I'll be sworn upon 't that he loves her,
|
|
For here's a paper written in his hand,
|
|
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
|
|
Fashioned to Beatrice. [He shows a paper.]
|
|
|
|
HERO And here's another,
|
|
Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket,
|
|
Containing her affection unto Benedick.
|
|
[She shows a paper.]
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK A miracle! Here's our own hands against
|
|
our hearts. Come, I will have thee, but by this light
|
|
I take thee for pity.
|
|
|
|
BEATRICE I would not deny you, but by this good day, I
|
|
yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your
|
|
life, for I was told you were in a consumption.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Peace! I will stop your mouth.
|
|
[They kiss.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK I'll tell thee what, prince: a college of
|
|
wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor.
|
|
Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?
|
|
No. If a man will be beaten with brains, he shall
|
|
wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I
|
|
do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any
|
|
purpose that the world can say against it, and
|
|
therefore never flout at me for what I have said
|
|
against it. For man is a giddy thing, and this is my
|
|
conclusion.--For thy part, Claudio, I did think to
|
|
have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my
|
|
kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.
|
|
|
|
CLAUDIO I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied
|
|
Beatrice, that I might have cudgeled thee out of thy
|
|
single life, to make thee a double-dealer, which out
|
|
of question thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look
|
|
exceeding narrowly to thee.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK Come, come, we are friends. Let's have a
|
|
dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our
|
|
own hearts and our wives' heels.
|
|
|
|
LEONATO We'll have dancing afterward.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK First, of my word! Therefore play, music.--
|
|
Prince, thou art sad. Get thee a wife, get thee a wife.
|
|
There is no staff more reverend than one tipped
|
|
with horn.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Messenger.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
MESSENGER, [to Prince]
|
|
My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
|
|
And brought with armed men back to Messina.
|
|
|
|
BENEDICK, [to Prince] Think not on him till tomorrow.
|
|
I'll devise thee brave punishments for him.--Strike
|
|
up, pipers! [Music plays. They dance.]
|
|
[They exit.]
|