SONG.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore;
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blith and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.
Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The frauds of men were ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, &c.
Pedro.
By my troth, a good song.
Balth.
And an ill finger, my lord.
Pedro.
Ha? no; no, faith; thou sing'st well
enough for a shift.
Bene. [Aside.]
An he had been a dog, that should
have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him: and,
I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had
as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague
could have come after it.
-- 295 --
Pedro.
Yea, marry;—Dost thou hear, Balthazar?
I pray thee, get us some excellent musick; for tomorrow
night we would have it at the lady Hero's
chamber-window.
Balth.
The best I can, my lord.
[Exit Balthazar.
Pedro.
Do so: farewell. Come hither, Leonato;
What was it you told me of to-day, that your niece
Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick?
Claud.
O, ay;—Stalk on, stalk on, the fowl sits8 note
.
[Aside to Pedro.] I did never think that lady would
have loved any man.
Leon.
No, nor I neither; but most wonderful,
that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom
she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to
abhor.
Bene.
Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?
[Aside.
Leon.
By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to
think of it, 9 note
but that she loves him with an enraged
affection 9Q0236:—it is past the infinite of thought.
-- 296 --
Pedro.
May be, she doth but counterfeit.
Claud.
Faith, like enough.
Leon.
O God! counterfeit! There never was counterfeit
of passion came so near the life of passion, as she
discovers it.
Pedro.
Why, what effects of passion shews she?
Claud.
Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.
[Aside.
Leon.
What effects, my lord! She will sit you,—
You heard my daughter tell you how.
Claud.
She did, indeed.
Pedro.
How, how, I pray you? You amaze me:
I would have thought her spirit had been invincible
against all assaults of affection.
Leon.
I would have sworn it had my lord; especially
against Benedick.
Bene. [Aside.]
I should think this a gull, but that
the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot,
sure, hide himself in such reverence.
-- 297 --
Claud.
He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up.
[Aside.
Pedro.
Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?
Leon.
No; and swears she never will: that's her
torment.
Claud.
'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says:
Shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with
scorn, write to him that I love him?
Leon.
This says she now when she is beginning to
write to him: for she'll be up twenty times a night;
and there she will sit in her smock, 'till she have writ
a sheet of paper:9Q0237—my daughter tells us all.
Claud.
Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember
a pretty jest your daughter told us of.
Leon.
Oh,—When she had writ it, and was reading
it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between
the sheet?—
Claud.
That.
Leon.
1 note
O, she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence;
rail'd at herself, that she should be so immodest
to write to one that she knew would flout
her: I measure him, says she, by my own spirit; for, I
-- 298 --
should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him,
I should.
Claud.
Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps,
sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses;—
O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!
Leon.
She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and
the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my
daughter is sometime afraid she will do desperate
outrage to herself; It is very true.
Pedro.
It were good, that Benedick knew of it by
some other, if she will not discover it.
Claud.
To what end? He would but make a sport
of it, and torment the poor lady worse.
Pedro.
An he should, it were an alms to hang him:
She's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion,
she is virtuous.
Claud.
And she is exceeding wise.
Pedro.
In every thing, but in loving Benedick.
Leon.
O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in
so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that
blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have
just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.
Pedro.
I would, she had bestow'd this dotage on
me; I would have daff'd2 note
all other respects, and made
her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and
hear what he will say.
Leon.
Were it good think you?
Claud.
Hero thinks surely, she will die: for she
says, she will die if he love her not; and she will die
ere she make her love known; and she will die if he
woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her
accustom'd crossness.
Pedro.
She doth well: if she should make tender
of her love, 'tis very possible, he'll scorn it; for the
-- 299 --
man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.3 note
.
Claud.
He is a very proper man.
Pedro.
He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness.
Claud.
'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise.
Pedro.
He doth, indeed, shew some sparks that are
like wit.
Leon.
And I take him to be valiant.
Pedro.
As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing
of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either
he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes
them with a christian-like fear.
Leon.
If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep
peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into
a quarrel with fear and trembling.
Pedro.
And so will he do; for the man doth fear
God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some large
jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece:
Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love?
Claud.
Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out
with good counsel.
Leon.
Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her
heart out first.
Pedro.
Well, we will hear further of it by your
daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick
-- 300 --
well; and I could wish he would modestly examine
himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so
good a lady.
Leon.
My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
Claud.
If he do not dote on her upon this, I will
never trust my expectation.
[Aside.
Pedro.
Let there be the same net spread for her,
and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen
carry. The sport will be, when they hold an opinion
of one another's dotage, and no such matter; that's
the scene that I would see, which will be meerly a
dumb show. Let us send her to call him to dinner.
[Aside]
[Exeunt.
Benedick advances from the arbour.
Bene.
This can be no trick: The conference was
sadly borne2 note
.—They have the truth of this from
Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her
affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it
must be requited. I hear how I am censur'd: they
say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love
come from her; they say too, that she will rather die
than give any sign of affection.—I did never think to
marry:—I must not seem proud:—happy are they
that hear their detractions, and can put them to
mending. They say, the lady is fair: 'tis a truth, I
can bear them witness: and virtuous;—'tis so, I
cannot reprove it: and wise—but for loving me:—
By my troth, it is no addition to her wit;—nor no
great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in
love with her.—I may chance have some odd quirks
-- 301 --
and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have
rail'd so long against marriage: But doth not the appetite
alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that
he cannot endure in his age:—Shall quips, and sentences,
and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man
from the career of his humour? No: The world must
be peopled. When I said, I would die a batchelor, I
did not think I should live till I were marry'd.—Here
comes Beatrice: By this day, she's a fair lady: I do
spy some marks of love in her.
Enter Beatrice.
Beat.
Against my will, I am sent to bid you come
in to dinner.
Bene.
Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
Beat.
I took no more pains for those thanks, than
you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I
would not have come.
Bene.
You take pleasure then in the message?
Beat.
Yea, just as much as you may take upon a
knife's point, and choak a daw withal:—You have
no stomach, signior; fare you well.
[Exit.
Bene.
Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you come
in to dinner—there's a double meaning in that. I
took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains
to thank me—that's as much as to say, Any pains that
I take for you is as easy as thanks:—If I do not take
pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am
a Jew: I will go get her picture.
[Exit.
-- 302 --
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
