Beatrice, with a Messenger.
Leonato.
I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon
comes this night to Messina.
Mess.
He is very near by this; he was
not three leagues off when I left him.
Leon.
How many gentlemen have you
lost in this action?
Mess.
But few of any Sort, and none of name.
Leon.
A victory is twice it self, when the atchiever
brings home full numbers; I find here, that Don Pedro
hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine,
call'd Claudio.
Mess.
Much deserved on his part, and equally remembred
by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond
-- 404 --
the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a
lamb the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better better'd
expectation, than you must expect of me to tell
you how.
Leon.
He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very
much glad of it.
Mess.
I have already delivered him letters, and there
appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy
could not shew it self modest enough, without a badge
of bitterness.
Leon.
Did he break out into tears?
Mess.
In great measure.
Leon.
A kind overflow of kindness; there are no
faces truer than those that are so wash'd; how much
better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping?
Beat.
I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from
the wars or no.
Mess.
I know none of that name, Lady; there was
none such in the army of any Sort.
Leon.
What is he that you ask for, Neice?
Hero.
My Cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
Mess.
O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he
was.
Beat.
He set up his bills here in Messina, and challeng'd
Cupid at the flight; and my Uncle's fool, reading
the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd
him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath
he kill'd and eaten in these wars? but how many
hath he kill'd? for, indeed, I promis'd to eat all of his
killing.
Leon.
'Faith, Neice, you tax Signior Benedick too
much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.
Mess.
He hath done good service, Lady, in these
wars.
Beat.
You had musty victuals, and he hath holp to
eat it; he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an
excellent stomach.
Mess.
And a good soldier too, Lady.
Beat.
And a good soldier to a lady? but what is he
to a lord?
-- 405 --
Mess.
A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stufft with
all honourable virtues.
Beat.
It is so, indeed: (2) note
he is no less than a stuft
man: but for the stuffing,—well, we are all mortal.
Leon.
You must not, Sir, mistake my Neice; there
is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and
her; they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit
between them.
Beat.
Alas, he gets nothing by That. In our last
conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now
is the whole man govern'd with one: So that if he
have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear
it for a difference between himself and his horse; for
it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a
reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? he
hath every month a new sworn brother.
Mess.
Is it possible?
Beat.
Very easily possible; he wears his faith but as
the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next
block.
Mess.
I see, Lady, the gentleman is not in your
books.
Beat.
No; an he were, I would burn my Study.
But, I pray you, who is his companion? is there no
young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him
to the devil?
Mess.
He is most in the company of the right noble
Claudio.
Beat.
O lord, he will hang upon him like a disease;
he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker
runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if
he have caught the Benedick; it will cost him a thousand
pound ere he be cur'd.
-- 406 --
Mess.
I will hold friends with you, Lady.
Beat.
Do, good friend.
Leon.
You'll ne'er run mad, Neice.
Beat.
No, not 'till a hot January.
Mess.
Don Pedro is approch'd.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and Don John.
Pedro.
Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet
your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost,
and you encounter it.
Leon.
Never came trouble to my house in the likeness
of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort
should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow
abides, and happiness takes his leave.
Pedro.
You embrace your charge too willingly: I
think, this is your daughter.
Leon.
Her mother hath many times told me so.
Bene.
Were you in doubt, Sir, that you askt her?
Leon.
Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a
child.—
Pedro.
You have it full, Benedick; We may guess by
this what you are, being a man: truly, the lady fathers
her self; be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable
father.
Bene.
If Signior Leonato be her Father, she would
not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as
like him as she is.
Beat.
I wonder, that you will still be talking, Signior
Benedict; no body marks you.
Bene.
What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet
living?
Beat.
Is it possible, Disdain should die, while she
hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick?
Courtesie it self must convert to Disdain, if you come
in her presence.
Bene.
Then is courtesie a turn-coat; but it is certain,
I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and
I would I could find in my heart that I had not a
hard heart, for truly I love none.
-- 407 --
Beat.
A dear happiness to women; they would else
have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank
God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for
that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than
a man swear he loves me.
Bene.
God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so
some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate
scratcht face.
Beat.
Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere
such a face as yours were.
Bene.
Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
Beat.
A bird of my tongue is better than a beast
of yours.
Bene.
I would, my horse had the speed of your
tongue, and so good a continuer; but keep your way
a God's name, I have done.
Beat.
You always end with a jade's trick: I know
you of old.
Pedro.
This is the sum of all: Leonato,—Signior
Claudio, and Signior Benedick,—my dear
friend Leonato hath invited you all; I tell him, we
shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartily
prays, some occasion may detain us longer: I
dare swear he is no hypocrite; but prays from his
heart.
Leon.
If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn.
Let me bid You welcome, my lord, being
reconciled to the prince your brother; I owe you all
duty.
John.
I thank you; I am not of many words, but
I thank you.
Leon.
Please it your Grace lead on?
Pedro.
Your hand, Leonato we will go together.
[Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio.
Claud.
Benedick, 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
-- 408 --
me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant
to their sex?
Claud.
No, I pry'thee, 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.
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, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan
a rare carpenter? come, in what key shall a man take
you to go in the Song?
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 my self, tho' 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 batchelor of threescore again? 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.
Re-enter Don Pedro and Don John.
Pedro.
What Secret hath held you here, that you follow'd
not to Leonato's house?
Bene.
I would, your Grace would constrain me to tell.
Pedro.
I charge thee on thy allegiance.
-- 409 --
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 were it uttered.
Bene.
Like the old tale, my lord, it is not so, nor
'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.
Claud.
If my passion change not shortly, God 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 recheate winded in
my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick,
all women shall pardon me; because I will not
do them the Wrong to mistrust any, I will do my self
the Right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the which
I may go the finer,) I will live a batchelor.
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,
-- 410 --
pick out mine 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, and
shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapt on
the shoulder, and call'd Adam.(3) note
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
-- 411 --
Horse to hire, let them signifie under my Sign, Here you
may see Benedick the marry'd man.
Claud.
If this should ever happen, thou would'st
be horn-mad.
Pedro.
Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver
in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.
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 God; 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 sometime 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.
[Exit.
Claud.
My Liege, your Highness now may 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 lesson 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.
-- 412 --
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 will break with her: and with her Father,
And Thou shalt have 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 complection!
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 lov'st;
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.
Re-enter Leonato and Antonio.
Leon.
How now, brother, where is my Cousin your
son? hath he provided this musick?
Ant.
He is very busie about it; but, brother, I can
tell you news that you yet dream'd not of.
Leon.
Are they good?
Ant.
As the event stamps them, but they have a
good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and
Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in
my orchard, were thus over-heard by a man of mine:
The Prince discover'd to Claudio, that he lov'd my neice
your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night
in a dance; and if he found her accordant, he meant
to take the present time by the top, and instantly break
with you of it.
-- 413 --
Leon.
Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this?
Ant.
A good sharp fellow; I will send for him, and
question him your self.
Leon.
No, no; we will hold it as a dream, 'till it
appear it self: but I will acquaint my daughter withal,
that she may be the better prepared for answer,
if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of
it: Cousins, you know what you have to do. [Several
cross the Stage here.] O, I cry you mercy, friend, go
you with me and I will use your skill; good Cousin,
have a care this busie time.
[Exeunt.
Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
