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].
