Claudio.
Ant.
Here comes 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.
-- 469 --
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 lye low.
Claud.
Who wrongs him?
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 tryal of a man;
I say, thou hast bely'd mine innocent child,
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lyes 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 lustyhood.
Claud.
Away, I will not have to do with you.
(24) note
Leon.
Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kill'd my child;
-- 470 --
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; come, boy, follow me;
Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.
Leon.
Brother,—
Ant.
Content your self; God 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:
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mongring boys,
That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander,
Go antickly, and show an outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words,(25) note
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
And this is all.
Leon.
But, brother Anthony,—
Ant.
Come, 'tis no matter;
-- 471 --
Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.
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.
[Exe. ambo.
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 our two noses
snapt off with 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.
Claud.
We have been up and down to seek thee; for
we are high-proof melancholly, and would fain have it
beaten away: wilt thou use thy wit?
Bene.
It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it?
Pedro.
Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
Claud.
Never any did so, though very many have
been beside their wit. 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.
-- 472 --
Claud.
Nay, then give him another staff; this last
was broke cross.
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.
God bless me from a challenge!
Bene.
You are a villain; I jest not. I will make it
good how you dare, with 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
calves-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve
most curiously, say, my knife's naught. Shall I not
find a woodcock too?
Bene.
Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.
Pedro.
I'll tell thee, how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the
other day: I said, thou hadst a fine wit; right, says she,
a fine little one; no, said I, a great wit; just, said she,
a great gross one; nay, said I, a good wit; just, said
she, it hurts no body; nay, said I, the gentleman is
wise; certain, said she, a wise gentleman; nay, said
I, he hath the tongues; that I believe, said she, for
he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he
forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue,
there's two tongues. Thus did she an hour together
trans-shape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she concluded
with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in
Italy.
Claud.
For the which she wept heartily, and said
she car'd not.
Pedro.
Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, and
if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him
dearly; the old man's daughter told us all.
Claud.
All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he
was kid in the garden.
-- 473 --
Pedro.
But when shall we set the salvage 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, God 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 killed 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.
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.
Claud.
He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an
ape a doctor to such a man.
Pedro.
But, soft you, let me see, pluck up my heart
and be sad; 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,
an 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; sixth and lastly, they have bely'd a
lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and
to conclude, they are lying knaves.
-- 474 --
Pedro.
First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly,
I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly,
why they are committed; and to conclude, what you
lay to their charge?
Claud.
Rightly reason'd, and in his own division;
and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited.
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 deceiv'd even your very eyes; what your wisdoms
could not discover, these shallow fools have
brought to light, who in the night overheard me 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 garments; how you disgrac'd 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 drunk poison, while he utter'd it.
Pedro.
But did my brother set thee on to this?
Bora.
Yea, and 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.
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 specifie, when time
and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
Verg.
Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and
the Sexton too.
-- 475 --
Enter Leonato, and Sexton.
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 thy self;
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 must speak: chuse your revenge your self,
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking.
Pedro.
By my soul, nor I;
And yet to satisfie this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight,
That he'll enjoyn 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; and if your love
Can labour ought in sad invention,
Hang her an Epitaph upon her tomb,
And sing it to her bones, sing it to night:
To morrow morning 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 the 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.
-- 476 --
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.
To morrow then I will expect your Coming,
To night I take my leave. 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 your brother.
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
white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did
call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembred in
his punishment; and also (26) note
the watch heard them
-- 477 --
talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his
ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in
God's name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never
paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend
nothing for God's sake. 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 God for you.
Leon.
There's for thy pains.
Dogb.
God 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 your self,
for the example of others. God keep your Worship;
I wish your Worship well: God restore you to health;
I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry
meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. Come, neighbour.
[Exeunt.
Leon.
Until to morrow morning, Lords, farewel.
Ant.
Farewel, my Lords; we look for you to morrow.
Pedro.
We will not fail.
Claud.
To night I'll mourn with Hero.
Leon.
Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
[Exeunt severally.
Scene 2
SCENE changes to 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.
-- 478 --
(27) noteMarg.
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.
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; I give
thee the bucklers.
Marg.
Give us the swords; we have bucklers of
our own.
Bene.
If you use them, Margaret, you must put in
the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons
for maids.
Marg.
Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think,
hath legs.
[Exit Margaret.
Bene.
And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of
love, that sits above, and knows me, and knows me, how
pitiful I deserve,—I mean, in singing; but in loving,
Leander the good swimmer, Troilus 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 were never 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 scorn, horn, a hard rhime; for school, fool,
a babling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was
not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo
in festival terms.
Enter Beatrice.
Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee?
-- 479 --
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 unkist.
Bene.
Thou hast frighted the word out of its right
sense, so forcible 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
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
politick 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?
Bene.
Question?—why, an hour in clamour, and a
quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for
the wise, if Don worm (his conscience) find no impediment
to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his
own virtues, as I am to my self; so much for praising
-- 480 --
my self, who, I my self will bear witness, is praise-worthy;
and now tell me; how doth your Cousin?
Beat.
Very ill.
Bene.
And how do you?
Beat.
Very ill too.
Bene.
Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I
leave you too, for here comes one in haste.
Enter Ursula.
Ursu.
Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's
old coil at home; 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: will you come presently?
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.
[Exeunt.
Scene 3
SCENE changes to a Church.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers.
Claud.
Is this the monument of Leonato?
Atten.
It is, my lord:
EPITAPH.
Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero, that here lyes:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life, that dy'd with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb.
Claud.
Now musick sound, and sing your solemn
hymn.
-- 481 --
SONG.
Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight;
For the which with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan
Heavily, heavily:
Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
'Till death be uttered,
Heavily, heavily.
Claud.
Now unto thy bones good night;
Yearly will I do this Rite.
Pedro.
Good morrow, masters, put your torches out,
The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phœbus, round about
Dapples the drowsie east with spots of grey:
Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well.
Claud.
Good morrow, masters; each his several way.
Pedro.
Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;
And then to Leonato's we will go.
Claud.
And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's,(28) note
Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe!
[Exeunt.
-- 482 --
Scene 4
SCENE changes to Leonato's House.
Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.
Friar.
Did I not 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,
In the true course of all the question.
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 your selves,
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 sight whereof, I think, you had from me,
From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will?
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.
-- 483 --
Leon.
My heart is with your liking.
Friar.
And my help.
Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants.
Pedro.
Good morrow to this fair assembly.
Leon.
Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio,
We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
To day 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.
[Exit Antonio.
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 leapt your father's cow;
And got a calf, in that same noble feat,
Much like to you; for you have just his bleat.
Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula, mask'd.
Claud.
For this I owe you; here come other recknings.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
Anto.
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.
-- 484 --
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.
Claud.
Another Hero?(29) note
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.
Friar.
All this amazement can I qualifie.
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 chappel 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 deceiv'd; 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,
Have been 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.
-- 485 --
Leon.
Come, Cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
Claud.
And I'll be sworn upon't, 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 our
hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I
take thee for pity.
(30) noteBeat.
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.
(31) note
Bene.
Peace, I will stop your mouth.—
[Kissing her.
-- 486 --
Pedro.
How dost thou, Benedick the married
man?
Bene.
I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of witt-crackers
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 cudgell'd thee out of thy
single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out
of question, thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look
exceeding narrowly to thee.
Bene.
Come, come, we are friends; let's have a
Dance ere 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 musick.
Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife;
there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with
horn.
-- 487 --
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
And brought with armed men back to Messina.
Bene.
Think not on him 'till to morrow: I'll devise
thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers.
[Dance.
[Exeunt omnes.
