Claudio.
Ant.
Here come the prince and Claudio, hastily.
Pedro.
Good den, good den.
Claud.
Good day to both of you.
Leon.
Hear you, my lords?
Pedro.
We have some haste, Leonato.
Leon.
Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord.
Are you so hasty, now? Well, all is one.
Pedro.
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.
Ant.
If he could right himself with quarrelling,
Some of us would lie low.
Claud.
Who wrongs him, sir?
Leon.
Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou!
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword,
I fear thee not.
Claud.
Marry, beshrew my hand,
If it should give your age such cause of fear;
In faith my hand meant nothing to my sword.
Leon.
Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me;
I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool,
As under privilege of age to brag,
What I have done being young, or what would do,
Were I not old: know, Claudio, to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent child and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by,
And with grey hairs and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man;
I say, thou hast belied my innocent child,
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
-- 372 --
And she lies bury'd with her ancestors;
O, in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany!
Claud.
My villany!
Leon.
Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.
Pedro.
You say not right, old man.
Leon.
My lord, my lord,
I'll prove it on his body, if he dare;
Despight his nice fence, and his active practice,
His May of youth, and bloom of lustihood.
Claud.
Away, I will not have to do with you.
Leon.
Canst thou so daffe* note me? Thou hast kill'd my child;
If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
Ant.
He shall kill two of us, and men indeed;
But that's no matter, let him kill one first;
Win me and wear me, let him answer me;
Come, follow me, boy, follow me,
I'll whip you from your foining fence;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.
Leon.
Brother—
Ant.
Content yourself; Heav'n knows I lov'd my niece,
And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains,
That dare as well answer a man, indeed,
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue!
Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops!
Leon.
Brother Anthony!
Ant.
Hold you content: what man? I know them, yea,
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple:
Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-mongering boys,
That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander,
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
And this is all.* note
-- 373 --
Leon.
But brother Anthony?
Ant.
Come, 'tis no matter,
Do not you meddle; let me deal in this.† note
Pedro.
Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death;
But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing,
But what was true, and very full of proof.
Leon.
My lord, my lord—
Pedro.
I will not hear you.
Leon.
No! come, brother, away; I will be heard.
Ant.
And shall, or some of us will smart for it.
[Exeunt both.
Enter Benedick.
Pedro.
See, see, here comes the man we went to seek.
Claud.
Now, signior, what news?
Bene.
Good day, my lord.
Pedro.
Welcome, signior; you are almost come to
part almost a fray.
Claud.
We had like to have had our two noses snapt
off, by two old men without teeth.
Pedro.
Leonato and his brother; what think'st thou?
Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too
young for them.
Bene.
In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I
came to seek you both.‡ note
Claud.
We have been up and down to seek thee,
for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have
it beaten away: wilt thou use thy wit?
Bene.
It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it?
-- 374 --
Claud.
I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels;
draw to pleasure us.
Pedro.
As I am an honest man, he looks pale: art
thou sick, or angry?
Claud.
What! courage, man; what tho' care kill'd
a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
Bene.
Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if
you charge it against me. I pray you, chuse another
subject. I don't like it.
Pedro.
By this light, he changes more and more: I
think he be angry, indeed.
Claud.
If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
Bene.
Shall I speak a word in your ear?
Claud.
Bless me from a challenge!
Bene.
You are a villain; I jest not. I will make
it good, how you dare, and what you dare, and when
you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardise.
You have kill'd a sweet lady, and her death
shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.
Claud.
Well, I will meet you, so I may have good
cheer.
Pedro.
What, a feast?
Claud.
I'faith, I thank him, he hath bid me to a
calf's-head; the which if I do not carve most curiously,
say my knife's naught.
Bene.
Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily.
Pedro.
But when shall we set the savage bull's horns
on the sensible Benedick's head?
Claud.
Yea, and text underneath, here dwells Benedick,
the married man.
Bene.
Fare you well, boy, you know my mind; I
will leave you now, to your gossip-like humour; you
break jests, as braggarts do their blades, which, Heav'n
be thank'd, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies,
I thank you; I must discontinue your company;
your brother, the bastard, is fled from Messina; you
have among you kill'd a sweet and innocent lady.
For my lord lack-beard there, he and I shall meet;
and 'till then, peace be with him!
[Exit Benedick.
-- 375 --
Pedro.
He is in earnest.
Claud.
In most profound earnest; and I'll warrant
you for the love of Beatrice.
Pedro.
And hath challeng'd thee?
Claud.
Most sincerely.
Pedro.
What a pretty thing man is, when he goes
in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!
Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade, and Borachio, guarded.
Pedro.
But soft you, did he not say, my brother
was fled?
Dogb.
Come, you, sir, if justice cannot tame you,
she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance;
nay, if you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be
look'd to.
Pedro.
How now! two of my brother's men bound?
Borachio one!
Claud.
Hearken after their offence, my lord.
Pedro.
Officers, what offence have these men done?
Dogb.
Marry, sir, they have committed false report;
moreover they have spoken untruths; secondarily,
they are slanders; sixthly and lastly, they have bely'd
a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and
to conclude, they are lying knaves.
Pedro.
First, I ask thee what they have done;
thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixthly and
lastly, why they are committed; and to conclude,
what you lay to their charge?
Claud.
Rightly reason'd, and in his own division.
Pedro.
Whom have you offended, masters, that
you are thus bound to your answer? This learned
constable is too cunning to be understood. What's
your offence?
Bora.
Sweet prince, let me go no further 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
-- 376 --
confessing to this man, how Don John, your brother,
incens'd me to slander the lady Hero; how you were
brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret,
in Hero's garment; how you meant to disgrace her,
when you should marry her. My villany they have
upon record, which I had rather seal with my death,
than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead, upon
mine, and my master's false accusation: and, briefly,
I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.
Pedro.
Runs not this speech like iron through your
blood.
Claud.
I have drank poison, while he utter'd it.
Pedro.
But did my brother set thee on to this?
Bora.
Yea, paid me richly, for the practice of it.
Pedro.
He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery.
And fled he is, upon this villany.* note
Claud.
Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear,
In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first.
Dogb.
Come, bring away the plaintiffs. By this
time our sexton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the
matter; and, masters, do not forget to specify, when
time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
Verge.
Here, here comes master Signior Leonato,
and the sexton too.
Enter Leonato, Sexton, and Servants.
Leon.
Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes,
That when I note another man like him,
I may avoid him. Which of these is he?
Bora.
If you would know your wronger, look on me.
Leon.
Art thou, art thou the slave, that with thy breath
Has kill'd mine innocent child?
Bora.
Yea, even I alone.
Leon.
No, not so, villain, thou bely'st thyself;
-- 377 --
Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled, that had a hand in it.
I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death;
Record it with your high and worthy deeds;
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
Claud.
I know not how to pray your patience;
Yet I may speak. Chuse your revenge yourself,
Impose on me, what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin. Yet, I sinn'd not,
But in mistaking.
Pedro.
By my soul, nor I;
And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight,
That he'll enjoin me to.
Leon.
You cannot bid my daughter live again;
That were impossible. But I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here,
How innocent she dy'd.
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 a copy of my child that's dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us.
Give her the right you should have given her cousin,
And so dies my revenge.
Claud.
O, noble sir!
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me;
I do embrace your offer, and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.
Leon.
I will expect your coming.
[Exit Pedr. and Claud.
This naughty man,
Shall face to face, be brought to Margaret,
Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong,
Hir'd to it by Don John.
Bora.
No, by my soul, she was not;
Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me,
But always hath been just and virtuous,
In any thing that I do know by her.
Dogb.
Moreover, sir, which, indeed, is not under
-- 378 --
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; I pray you examine him upon that
point.
Leon.
I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
Dogb.
Your worship speaks like a most thankful
and reverend youth; and I praise Heav'n for you.
Leon.
There's for thy pains.
Dogb.
Heav'n save the foundation!
Leon.
Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner; and I
thank thee.
Dogb.
I leave an errant knave with your worship,
which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for
the example of others. Heav'n keep your worship;
I wish your worship well. Heav'n restore you to
health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a
merry meeting may be wish'd, Heav'n prohibit it. Come,
neighbour.
[Exeunt Dogberry and Constable.
Leon.
Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE, Leonato's House.
Enter Benedick and Margaret.
Bene.
Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve
well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.
Marg.
Will you then write me a sonnet, in praise
of my beauty?
Bene.
In so high a style, Margaret, that no man
living shall come over it; for in most comely truth,
thou deservest it.
Marg.
To have no man come over me? Why,
shall I always keep above stairs?
Bene.
Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's
mouth, it catches.
-- 379 --
Marg.
And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils,
which hit, but hurt not.
Bene.
A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not
hurt a woman; and so I pray thee, call Beatrice.
Marg.
Well, I will call Beatrice to you.
[Exit Margaret.
Bene. Sings.]
The god of love, that sits above.
No, I cannot sing. But for loving, Leander the good
swimmer, Trolius, the first employer of pandars, and
a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers,
whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a
blank verse, why, they never were so truly turn'd
over and over, as my poor self, in love. Marry, I
cannot shew it in rhime; I have try'd, I can find out
no rhime to lady, but baby, an innocent's rhime; for
school, fool, a babling rhime; for scorn, horn, a hard
rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was not born
under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival
terms.
Enter Beatrice.
Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come, when I call thee?
Beat.
Yea, Signior, and depart when you bid me.
Bene.
O, stay but till then.
Beat.
Then is spoken: fare you well now; and
yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which
is, with knowing what hath past between you and
Claudio.
Bene.
Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss
thee.
Beat.
Foul words, are but foul wind, and foul
wind, is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome;
therefore, I will depart unkiss'd.
Bene.
Thou hast frighted the word out of its right
sense, so forceable 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
-- 380 --
a coward. And I pray thee now tell me, for which
of my bad parts, didst thou first fall in love with me?
Beat.
For them all together, which maintain'd so
politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any good
part to intermingle with them. But for which of my
good parts did you first suffer love for me?
Bene.
Suffer love! a good epithet. I do suffer love,
indeed, for I love thee against my will.
Beat.
In spight of your heart, I think. Alas! poor
heart! if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it
for yours; for I will never love that which my friend
hates.
Bene.
Thou and I are too wise, to woo peaceably.
Beat.
It appears not, in this confession. There's
not one wise man among twenty, that will praise himself.
Bene.
An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd in
the time of good neighbours. If a man do not erect,
in this age, his own tomb, ere he dies, he shall live no
longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the
widow weeps.
Beat.
And how long is that, think you?* note
Bene.
Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter
in rheum; therefore, it is most expedient for the
wise, it Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment
to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own
virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising
myself, who, I myself, will bear witness, is praiseworthy.
And now, tell me, how doth your cousin?
Beat.
Very ill.
Bene.
And how do you?
Beat.
Very ill, too.
Enter Ursula.
Bene.
Say your prayers, love me, and mend; there
will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.
-- 381 --
Ursu.
Madam, you must come to your uncle: it is
proved my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd, the
prince and Claudio, mightily abus'd, and Don John
is the author of all, who is fled and gone.
Beat.
Will you go hear this news, signior?
Bene.
I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be
bury'd in thy heart; and moreover, I will go with
thee to thy uncle.* note
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE, a Saloon in Leonato's House.† note
Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.
Friar.
Did not I tell you she was innocent?
Leon.
So are the prince, and Claudio, who accus'd her,
Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears.
Ant.
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
Bene.
And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
Leon.
Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
And when I send for you, come hither mask'd.
The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To visit me. You know your office, brother,
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.
[Exeunt Ladies.
Ant.
Which I will do, with confirm'd countenance.
Bene.
Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think.
Friar.
To do what, signior?
Bene.
To bind me, or undo me, one of them.
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me, with an eye of favour.
Leon.
That eye, my daughter lent her, 'tis most true.
Bene.
And I do, with an eye of love, requite her.
Leon.
The fight whereof, I think, you had from me,
From Claudio, and the prince. But, what's your will?
-- 382 --
Bene.
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical;
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day, to be conjoin'd
I'th' state of honourable marriage,
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon.
My heart is with your liking.
Friar.
And my help.
Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio.
Pedro.
Hail to this fair assembly.
Leon.
We here attend you. Are you still determin'd
To marry with my brother's daughter?
Claud.
I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
Leon.
Call her forth, brother, here's the friar ready.
Pedro.
Good-morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?
Claud.
I think, he thinks upon the savage bull.
Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee:
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bene.
Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow,
And got a calf in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.* note
O, here they come.
Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula, mask'd.
Claud.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
Ant.
This same is she, and I do give you her.
Claud.
Why then, she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face?
Leon.
No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand,
Before this friar, and swear to marry her.
Claud.
Give me your hand; before this holy friar,
I am your husband, if you like of me.
Hero.
And when I liv'd, I was your other wife,
[Unmasking.
And when you lov'd, you were my other husband.
-- 383 --
Claud.
Another Hero?
Hero.
Nothing certainer.
One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live;
And surely, as I live, I am a maid.
Pedro.
The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!
Leon.
She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.† note
Friar.
All this amazement can I qualify.
When after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time, let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.
Bene.
Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat.
I answer to that name. What is your will?
Bene.
Do not you love me?
Beat.
Why, no; no more than reason.
Bene.
Why then your uncle, and the prince, and
Claudio, have been deceived; they swore you did.
Beat.
Do not you love me?
Bene.
Troth, no; no more than reason.
Beat.
Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula
are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did.
Bene.
They swore you were almost sick for me.
Beat.
They swore you were well-nigh dead for me.
Bene.
'Tis no matter. Then you do not love me?
Beat.
No, truly, but in friendly recompence.
Leon.
Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
Claud.
And I'll be sworn upon it, that he loves her;
For here's a paper written in his hand,
A halting sonnet, of his own pure brain;
Fashion'd to Beatrice.
Hero.
And here's another,
Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket.
Containing her affection unto Benedick.
Bene.
A miracle! here's our own hands against
-- 384 --
our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but by this
light, I take thee for pity.
Beat.
I would yet deny you, but, by this good day,
I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your
life; for as I was told, you were in a consumption.
Bene.
Peace, I will stop your mouth.
Pedro.
How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?
Bene.
I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of witcrackers
cannot flout me out of my humour: dost thou
think I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man
will be beaten with brains, 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 unbruis'd, and
love my cousin.
Claud.
I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied
Beatrice, that I might have cudgel'd thee.
Bene.
Come, come, we are friends, Let's have a
dance, e're we are marry'd, that we may lighten our
own hearts, and our wives' heels.
Leon.
We'll have dancing afterwards.
Bene.
First, o' 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 tipt
with horn.
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
And brought, with armed men, back to Messina.* note
Bene.
Think not on him till to-morrow: I'll devise
thee brave punishments for him. Strike up,
pipers.
[Dance.
[Exeunt omnes.† note
End of the Fifth Act.
