Ursula.
Hero.
Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour,
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice;
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her. Say that thou overheard'st us,
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
'To listen to our purpose. This is thy office;
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
Marg.
I'll make her come, I warrant, presently.
[Exit.
Hero.
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick;
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him, more than ever man did merit.
My talk to thee, must be how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hear-say. Now begin.
Enter Beatrice.
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing runs,
Close by the ground to hear our conference.
The pleasant'st angling, is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait.
Ursu.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
-- 346 --
Hero.
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing,
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.
No, truly, Ursula, she's too disdainful;
I know her spirits are as coy and wild,
As* note haggards of the rock.
Ursu.
But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely?
Hero.
So says the prince, and my new-trothed lord,
They did intreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
Ursu.
Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
Hero.
O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man;
But nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff, than that of Beatrice.
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
† noteMis-prizing 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.
Ursu.
Sure I think so;
And therefore, certainly it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Hero.
Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd,
She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why nature, drawing of an antick,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
-- 347 --
If low, an aglet* note 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.
Ursu.
Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
Hero.
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She'd 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 bitter death to die with mocks.
Ursu.
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 impoison liking.
Ursu.
O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment,
(Having so sweet and excellent a wit,
As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Benedick.
Hero.
Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Ursu.
His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.
When are you married, madam?
Hero.
Why, every day, to morrow. Come, go in,
I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel
Which is the best to furnish me, to-morrow.
Ursu.
She's ta'en, I warrant you; we have caught her, madam.
-- 348 --
Hero.
If it prove so, then loving goes by haps;
Some Cupids kill with arrows, some with traps.* note
[Exeunt.
Beat.
What fire is in my ears?† note Can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewel, 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;§ note
Love as thou wilt, Beatrice shall requite thee.
[Exit.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.
Pedro.
I do but stay, 'till your marriage be consummate,
and then I go toward Arragon.
Claud.
I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll
vouchsafe me.
Pedro.
Nay, I will only be bold with Benedick for
his company; for, from the crown of his head, to the
soal of his foot, he is all mirth. He hath twice or
thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman
dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a
bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his
heart thinks, his tongue speaks.
Bene.
Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leon.
So say I; methinks you are sadder.
Claud.
I hope he is in love.
-- 349 --
Pedro.
Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of
blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; if he be
sad, he wants money.
Bene.
I have the tooth-ach.
Pedro.
Draw it.
Bene.
Hang it.
Pedro.
What! sigh, for the tooth-ach?
Leon.
Which is but a humour, or a worm.
Bene.
Well, every one can master a grief, but he
that has it.
Claud.
Yet say I, he is in love. If he be not in love
with some woman, there is no believing old signs.
He brushes his hat, a mornings. What should that
bode?
Pedro.
Nay, he rubs himself with civet. Can you
smell him out, by that?
Claud.
That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's
in love.
Pedro.
The greatest note of it, is his melancholy.* note
Claud.
Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now
crept into a lute string.
Pedro.
Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude
he is in love.
Claud.
Nay, but I know who loves him.
Pedro.
That would I know, too. I warrant, one that
knows him not.
Claud.
Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despight
of all, dies for him.
Pedro.
Indeed! she shall be buried, with her heels
upwards.
Bene.
Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old
signior, walk aside with me, I have studied eight or
nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses
must not hear.
[Exit with Leon.
Pedro.
For my life, to break with him, about Beatrice.
-- 350 --
Claud.
'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have, by
this, play'd their parts with Beatrice, and then the
two bears will not bite one another when they meet.
Enter Don John.
John.
My lord and brother, Heav'n save you.
Pedro.
Good den, brother.
John.
If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with
you.
Pedro.
In private?
John.
If it please you: yet Count Claudio may
hear, for what I would speak of, concerns him.
Pedro.
What's the matter?
John.
Means your lordship to be married, to-morrow?
[To Claudio.
Pedro.
You know he does.
John.
I know not that, when he knows what I
know.
Claud.
If there be any impediment, I pray you,
discover it.
John.
You may think I love you not; let that appear
hereafter, and aim better at me, by that I now
will manifest; for my brother, I think, he holds you
well, and in dearness of heart, hath holp to effect your
ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill spent, and labour ill
bestow'd.
Pedro.
Why, what's the matter?
John.
I came hither to tell you, and circumstances
shorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the
lady is disloyal.
Claud.
Who, Hero?
John.
Even she, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every
man's Hero!
Claud.
Disloyal?
John.
The word is too good to paint out her wickedness;
I could say she were worse. Think you of a
worse title, and I will fit her to it? Wonder not, 'till
further warrant. Go but with me, to-night, and you shall
see her chamber-window enter'd, even the night before
-- 351 --
her wedding day; if you love her, then to-morrow
wed her; but it would better fit your honour to
change your mind.
Claud.
May this be so?
Pedro.
I will not think it.
John.
If you dare not trust that you see, confess
not that you know. If you will follow me, I will
shew you enough; and when you have seen more, and
heard more, proceed accordingly.
Claud.
If I see any thing, to-night, why I should
not marry her, to-morrow, in the congregation where
I should wed, there will I shame her.
Pedro.
And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I
will join with thee to disgrace her.
John.
I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are
my witnesses; bear it coldly but 'till night, and let
the issue shew itself.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE, the Street.
Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch.* note
Dogb.
Are you good men, and true?
Verg.
Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer
salvation, body and soul.
Dogb.
Nay, that were a punishment too good for
them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being
chosen for the prince's watch.
Verg.
Well, give them their charge, neighbour
Dogberry.
Dogb.
First, who think you the most disartless man
to be constable?
1 Watch.
Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for
they can write and read.
Dogb.
Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. Heav'n
-- 352 --
hath blest you with a good name: to be a well-favour'd
man, is the gift of fortune, but to write and
read, comes by nature.
2 Watch.
Both which, master constable—
Dogb.
You have.
2 Watch.
I have.
Dogb.
I knew it would be your answer. Well, for
your favour, sir, why, give Heav'n thanks, and make
no boast of it; and for your writing and reading,
let that appear when there is no need of such vanity.
You are thought here, to be the most senseless and
fit man for the constable of the watch, therefore, bear
you the lanthorn: this is your charge; you shall comprehend
all vagrom men; you are to bid any man
stand, in the prince's name.
2 Watch.
How, if he will not stand?
Dogb.
Why then, take no note of him, but let him
go, and presently call the rest of the watch together,
and thank Heav'n you are rid of a knave.
Verg.
If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is
none of the prince's subjects.
Dogb.
True, and they are to meddle with none but
the prince's subjects. You shall also make no noise in
the streets; for the watch to babble and talk, is most
tolerable, and not to be endur'd.
2 Watch.
We will rather sleep, than talk; we know
what belongs to a watch.
Dogb.
Why, you speak like an ancient and most
quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should
offend; only have a care that your bills be not stolen.
Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid
them that are drunk get them to bed.
2 Watch.
How, if they will not?
Dogb.
Why then let them alone 'till they are sober;
if they make you not then the better answer, you may
say, they are not the men you took them for.
2 Watch.
Well, sir,
Dogb.
If you meet a thief, you may suspect him,
by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and for
such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with
them, why, the more is for your honesty.
-- 353 --
2 Watch.
If we know him to be a thief, shall we
not lay hands on him?
Dogb.
Truly, by your office, you may; but I think
they that touch pitch, will be defil'd; the most peaceable
way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him
shew himself what he is, and steal out of your company.
Verg.
You have been always call'd a merciful man,
partner.
Dogb.
Truly I would not hang a dog, by my will,
much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
Verg.
If you hear a child cry in the night, you
must call to the nurse, and bid her still it.
2 Watch.
How if the nurse be asleep, and will not
hear us?
Dogb.
Why then, depart in peace, and let the child
wake her with crying: for a ewe that will not hear
her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf, when
he bleats.
Verg.
'Tis very true.
Dogb.
This is the end of the charge. You, constable,
are to present the prince's own person; if you
meet the prince in the night, you may stay him.
Verg.
Nay, bi'rlady, that I think he cannot.
Dogb.
Five shillings to one on't, with any man that
knows the statues, he may stay him; marry, not without
the prince be willing: for indeed, the watch
ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a
man against his will.
Verg.
Bi'rlady, I think it be so.
Dog.
Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night; an
there be any matter of weight chances, call me up;
keep your fellows' council and your own, and good
night. Come neighbour.
2 Watch.
Well, masters, we hear our charge; let
us go sit here, upon the church-bench, 'till two, and
then all to bed.
Dogb.
One word more, honest neighbours. I pray
you, watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the wedding
-- 354 --
being there, to-morrow, there is a great coil, tonight.
Adieu; be vigilant, I beseech you.
[Exeunt Dogb. and Verg.
Enter Borachio and Conrade.
Bora.
What, Conrade!
1 Watch.
Peace, stir not.
[Aside.
Bora.
Conrade, I say.
Conr.
Here, man, I am at thy elbow.
Bora.
Stand near me, and I will, like a true drunkard,
utter all to thee.
1 Watch.
Some treason, masters; yet stand close.
Bora.
Therefore, know, I have earned, of Don
John, a thousand ducats.
Conr.
Is it possible that any villany should be so
dear?
Bora.
Thou should'st rather ask if it were possible
any villany should be so cheap! for when rich villains
have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what
price they will.
Conr.
I wonder at it.
Bora.
That shews thou art unconfirm'd; thou
knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a
cloak, is nothing to a man.
Conr.
Yes, it is apparel.
Bora.
I mean the fashion.
Conr.
Yes, the fashion is the fashion.
Bora.
Tush, I may as well say, the fool's the fool.
But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion
is?
1 Watch.
I know that Deformed; he has been a vile
thief, this seven years; he goes up and down, like a
gentleman. I remember his name.
Bora.
Didst thou not hear some body?
Conr.
No, 'twas the vane on the house.
Bora.
Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief,
this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the
hot bloods, between fourteen and five and thirty.
Conr.
Are not thou, thyself, giddy with the fashion,
-- 355 --
that thou hast shifted out of thy tale, into telling me
of the fashion?
Bora.
Not so, neither. But know, that I havv
to-night, woo'd Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman,
by the name of Hero. She leans me out, at her
mistress's chamber-window; bids me a thousand times
good night—I tell this tale, vilely—I should
first tell thee how the prince, Claudio, and my master,
planted, and placed, and possessed by my master, Don
John, saw far off in the orchard, this amiable encounter.
Conr.
And thought they Margaret was Hero?
Bora.
Two of them did, the prince and Claudio;
but the devil, my master, knew she was Margaret.
Away went Claudio enraged, swore he would meet
her, as he was appointed next morning at the temple,
and there, before the whole congregation, shame her
with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again
without a husband.
1 Watch.
We charge you, in the prince's name,
stand.
2 Watch.
Call up the right master constable; we
have here recovered the most dangerous piece of
lechery, that ever was known in the common-wealth.
1 Watch.
And one Deformed, is one of them: I
know him, he wears a lock.
Conr.
Masters, masters.
2 Watch.
You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I
warrant you.
Conr.
Masters—
1 Watch.
Never speak, we charge you, let us obey
you to go with us.
Bora.
We are like to prove a goodly commodity,
being taken up of these men's bills.
[Exeunt.
-- 356 --
Scene
SCENE, Leonato's House.
Enter Hero and Margaret.
Marg.
Troth, I think your other dress were better.
Hero.
No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.
Marg.
By my troth, it's not so good, and I warrant
your cousin will say so.
Hero.
My cousin's a fool, and thou art another.
I'll wear none but this.
Marg.
I like the new tire within, excellently, and
your gown's a most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the
Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so: but for
a fine, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth
ten on't.
Hero.
God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is
exceeding heavy.
Marg.
'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a
husband.
Hero.
Fie upon thee, art not asham'd?
Enter Beatrice.
Hero.
Good morrow, coz.
Beat.
Good morrow, sweet Hero.
Hero.
Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick
tune?
Beat.
I am out of all other tune, methinks. 'Tis
almost five a clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready.
By my troth, I am exceeding ill, hey ho!
Marg.
For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
Beat.
By my troth, I am sick.
Marg.
Get you some of this distill'd Carduns Benedictus,
and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing
for a qualm.
Beat.
Benedictus! Why Benedictus! You have
some moral, in this Benedictus.
Marg.
Moral! No, by my troth, I have no moral
meaning; I meant plain holy thistle. You may think,
perchance, that I think you are in love; nay, bi'rlady,
-- 357 --
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 with 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 despight of his heart, he eats his meat
without grudging; and how you may be converted, I
know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as
other women do.
Beat.
What pace is this thy tongue keeps?
Marg.
Not a false gallop.
Enter Ursula.
Ursu.
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 me to dress me, good coz, good Meg,
good Ursula.
[Exeunt.
Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.
Leon.
What would you with me, honest neighbour?
Dogb.
Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with
you, that decerns you nearly.
Leon.
Brief, I pray you, for you see 'tis a busy time
with me.
Dogb.
Marry, this it is, sir.
Verg.
Yes in truth it is, sir.
Leon.
What is it, my good friends?
Dogb.
Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little of the
matter; an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt,
as God help I would desire they were; but, in faith, as
honest, as the skin between his brows.
Verg.
Yes, I thank Heaven, I am as honest as any
man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I.
Dogb.
Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour
Verges.
Leon.
Neighbours, you are tedious.
Dogb.
It pleases your worship to say so, but we are
-- 358 --
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 to your worship.
Leon.
All thy tediousness on me, ha?
Dogb.
Yea, and twice a thousand times more than
'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your worship, as
of any man in the city; and tho' I be but a poor man,
I am glad to hear it.
Verg.
And so am I.
Leon.
I would fain know what you have to say.
Verg.
Marry, sir, our watch, to night, excepting your
worship's presence, hath ta'en a couple as arrant knaves,
as any in Messina.
Dogb.
A good old man, sir, he will be talking, as they
say; when the age is in, the wit is out. Heaven help
us, it is a world to see: well said, i'faith, neighbour
Verges, well, he's a good man; an two men ride an
horse, one must ride behind; an honest soul, i'faith, sir,
by my troth he is, as ever broke bread; but Heaven is
to be worshipp'd; all men are not alike, alas, good
neighbour!
Leon.
Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.
Dogb.
Gifts that Heaven gives.
Leon.
I must leave you.
Dogb.
One word, sir; our watch have indeed comprehended
two auspicious persons, and we would have
them this morning examin'd before your worship* note
Leon.
Take their examination yourself, and bring it
me, I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you.
Dogb.
It shall be suffigance.
Leon.
Drink some wine, ere you go: fare you well.
[Exit Leon.
Dogb.
Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoal,
bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we
are now to examine those men.
Verg.
And we must do it wisely.
-- 359 --
Dogb.
We will spare for no wit, I warrant; here's
that shall drive some of them to a non-come. Only get
the learned writer to set down our excommunication,
and meet me at the jail.
[Exeunt.* note
End of the Third Act.
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
