Claud.

Benedick!

Bene.

What do you say, count?

Claud.

Didst thou note the daughter of signior Leonato?

Bene.

I noted her not, but I look'd on her.

Claud.

Is she not a modest young lady?

Bene.

Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? or would you have

me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?

Claud.

No. I pr'ythee, speak in sober judgment.

Bene.

Why, i'faith, methinks she is too low for an high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.* ^note

Claud.

Thou think'st I am in sport. I pray thee, tell me truly how thou lik'st her?

Bene.

Would you buy her, that you enquire after her?

Claud.

Can the world buy such a jewel?

Bene.

Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting jack? Come, in what key shall a man take you?

Claud.

In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady, that I ever look'd on.

Bene.

I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter; there's her cousin, if she were not possest with such a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you?

Claud.

I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.

Bene.

Is't come to this, in faith? Hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore, again? O, fye! Go to, i'faith; if thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is return'd to seek you.

Pedro.

What secret hath held you here, that you follow not to Leonato's house?

Bene.

I would your grace would constrain me to tell.

Pedro.

I charge thee, on thy allegiance.

Bene.

You hear, count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on my allegiance, mark you this; on my allegiance, he is in love. With whom? Now that is your grace's part. Mark how short his answer is, with Hero, Leonato's short daughter.

Claud.

If this were so, so had he told it.

Bene.

Like the old tale, my lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so; and indeed, Heav'n forbid it should be so.

Claud.

If my passion change not shortly, Heav'n forbid it should be otherwise.

Pedro.

Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy,

Claud.

You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.

Pedro.

By my troth, I speak my thought.

Claud.

And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.

Bene.

And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I speak mine.

Claud.

That I love her, I feel.

Pedro.

That she is worthy, I know.

Bene.

That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me; I will die in it at the stake.

Pedro.

Thou wast ever an obstinate heretick in the despight of beauty.

Claud.

And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will.

Bene.

That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks. But that I will have a recheat* ^note winded in my forehead, all women shall pardon me; because

I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor.

Pedro.

I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.

Bene.

With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love. Prove, that ever I lose more blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, pick out my eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house, for the sign of blind Cupid.

Pedro.

Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.

Bene.

If I do, hang me in a bottle, like a cat,* ^note and shoot at me.

Pedro.

Well, as time shall try; in time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.

Bene.

The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vilely painted; and in such great letters as they write, Here is good Horse to hire, let them signify under my sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd man.† ^note

Pedro.

Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this, shortly.&verbar2; ^note

Bene.

I look for an earthquake too, then.

Pedro.

Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the mean time, Good signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper, for indeed he hath made great preparation.

Bene.

I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and so I commit you.

Claud.

To the tuition of Heav'n. From my house, if I had it.

Pedro.

The sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedick.

Bene.

Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your discourse is sometimes guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on, neither. Ere you flout old ends, any further, examine your conscience, and so I leave you.

Claud.
My liege, your highness may now do me good.

Pedro.
My love is thine to teach, teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Any hard lessen that may do thee good.

Claud.
Hath Leonato any son, my lord?

Pedro.
No child but Hero, she's his only heir.
Dost thou affect her, Claudio?

Claud.
O, my lord,
When you went onward, on this ended action,
I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand,
Than to drive liking to the name of love.
But now I am return'd, and that war thoughts
Have left their places vacant; in their rooms
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
Saying, I lik'd her, ere I went to wars.* ^note

Pedro.
Thou wilt be like a lover, presently,
And tire the hearer with a book of words.
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,
And I'll break with her. Was't not to this end,
That thou began'st to twist so fine a story?

Claud.
How sweetly do you minister to love,
That know love's grief, by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise.

Pedro.
What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
The fairest grant is the necessity;
Look, what will serve, is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest,
And I will fit thee with the remedy.
I know we shall have revelling, to-night,
I will assume thy part in some disguise,
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio,
And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart,
And take her hearing prisoner with the force,
And strong encounter of my amorous tale;
Then after to her father will I break,
And the conclusion is, she shall be thine.
In practice let us put it, presently. [Exeunt. Enter Don John, and Conrade.* ^note

Conr.

What the good-jer, my lord? Why are you thus out of measure sad?

John.

There is no measure in the occasion that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit.

Conr.

You should hear reason.

John.

And when I have heard it, what blessing bringeth it?

Conr.

If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance.

John.

I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine, to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad, when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have a 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† ^note no man in his humour.

Conr.

Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, 'till you may do it without controlment. You

have, of late, stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself; it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest.

John.

I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose by his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any. In this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzel, and infranchised 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 mean time, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me.

Conr.

Can you make no use of your discontent?

John.

I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? What news, Borachio?

Bora.

I came yonder, from a great supper; the prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage.

John.

Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he, for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietness?

Bora.

Marry, it is your brother's right hand.

John.

Who, the most exquisite Claudio?

Bora.

Even he.

John.

A proper squire. And who, and who? Which way looks he?

Bora.

Marry, on Hero, the daughter, and heir of Leonato.

John.

A very forward March chick! 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.

Conr.

To the death, my lord.

John.

Let us to the great supper, their cheer is the greater that I am subdu'd: would the cook were of my mind.† ^note