Ursula.
Leon.
Was not Count John here at Supper?
Ant.
I saw him not.
Beat.
How tartly that Gentleman looks; I never can see
him, but I am Heart-burn'd an Hour after.
-- 333 --
Hero.
He is of a melancholy Disposition.
Beat.
He were an excellent Man that were made just in
the mid-way between him and Benedick; the one is too
like an Image, and says nothing; and the other too like
my Lady's eldest Son, evermore tatling.
Leon.
Then half Signior Benedick's Tongue in Count
John's Mouth, and half Count John's Melancholy in Signior
Benedick's Face—
Beat.
With a good Leg, and a good Foot, Uncle, and
Mony enough in his Purse, such a Man would win any
Woman in the World, if he could get her good Will.
Leon.
By my troth, Neice, thou wilt never get thee a
Husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy Tongue.
Ant.
In Faith she's too curst.
Beat.
Too curst is more than curst, I shall lessen God's
sending that Way; for it is said, God sends a curst Cow
short Horns, but to a Cow too curst he sends none.
Leon.
So, by being too curst, God will send no Horns.
Beat.
Just, if he send me no Husband, for the which
Blessing, I am at him upon my Knees every Morning and
Evening: Lord, I could not endure a Husband with a Beard
on his Face, I had rather lye in Woollen.
Leon.
You may light upon a Husband that hath no Beard.
Beat.
What should I do with him? dress him in my
Apparel, and make him my Waiting-Gentlewoman? He
that hath a Beard is more than a Youth, and he that hath
no Beard is less than a Man; and he that is more than a
Youth, is not for me; and he that is less than a Man, I am
not for him: Therefore, I will even take six Pence in earnest
of the Bearherd, and lead his Apes into Hell.
Leon.
Well then, go you into Hell.
Beat.
No, but to the Gate, and there will the Devil
meet me like an old Cuckold, with his Horns on his Head,
and say, get you to Heav'n, Beatrice, get you to Heav'n,
here's no Place for you Maids; so deliver I up my Apes,
and away to St. Peter; for the Heav'ns, he shews me
where the Batchelors sit, and there live we as merry as
the Day is long.
Ant.
Well Neice, I trust you will be rul'd by your Father.
[To Hero.
Beat.
Yes, Faith, it is my Cousin's Duty to make Curtsie,
-- 334 --
and say, as it please you; but yet for all that Cousin, let
him be a handsome Fellow, or else make another Curtsie,
and say, Father, as it pleases me.
Leon.
Well, Neice, I hope to see you one Day fitted
with a Husband.
Beat.
Not 'till God make Men of some other Mettal
than Earth; wou'd it not grieve a Woman to be over-master'd
with a Piece of valiant Dust? to make account of
her Life to a Clod of wayward Marle? No, Uncle, I'll
none; Adam's Sons are Brethren, and truly I hold it a
Sin to match in my Kindred.
Leon.
Daughter, remember what I told you; if the
Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your Answer.
Beat.
The Fault will be in the Musick, Cousin, if you
be not woo'd in good time; if the Prince be too important,
tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance
out the Answer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and
repenting, is a Scotch Jig, a Measure, and a Cinquepace;
The first Suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch Jig,
(and full as fantastical) the Wedding mannerly modest,
(as a Measure) full of State and Anchentry; and then comes
Repentance, and with his bad Legs falls into the Cinquepace
faster and faster, 'till he sinks into the Grave.
Leon.
Cousin you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beat.
I have a good Eye, Uncle, I can see a Church
by Day Light.
Leon.
The Revellers are entring, Brother; make good
room.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade.
Pedro.
Lady, will you walk about with your Friend?
Hero.
So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say
nothing, I am yours for the Walk, and especially when I
walk away.
Pedro.
With me in your Company.
Hero.
I may say so when I please.
Pedro.
And when will you please to say so?
Hero.
When I like your Favour; for God defend the
Lute should be like the Case.
Pedro.
My Visor is Philemon's Roof, within the House is
Love.
-- 335 --
Hero.
Why then your Visor should be thatch'd.
Pedro.
Speak low if you speak Love.
Bene.
Well, I would you did like me.
Marg.
So would not I for your own Sake, for I have
many ill Qualities.
Bene.
Which is one?
Marg.
I say my Prayers aloud.
Bene.
I love you the better, the Hearers may cry, Amen.
Marg.
God match me with a good Dancer.
Balth.
Amen.
Marg.
And God keep him out of my Sight when the
Dance is done: Answer Clerk.
Balth.
No more Words, the Clerk is answer'd.
Ursu.
I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio.
Anth.
At a Word, I am not.
Ursu.
I know you by the wagling of your Head.
Anth.
To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
Ursu.
You could never do him so ill Will, unless you
were the very Man: Here's his dry Hand up and down,
you are he, you are he.
Anth.
At a Word, I am not.
Ursu.
Come, come, do you think I do not know
you by your excellent Wit? Can Virtue hide it self? Go
to, mum, you are he, Graces will appear, and there's an
end.
Beat.
Will you not tell me who told you so?
Bene.
No, you shall pardon me.
Beat.
Nor will you tell me who you are?
Bene.
Not now.
Beat.
That I was disdainful, and that I had my good
Wit out of the hundred merry Tales; well, this was Signior
Benedick that said so.
Bene.
What's he?
Beat.
I am sure you know him well enough.
Bene.
Not I, believe me.
Beat.
Did he never make you laugh?
Bene.
I pray you what is he?
Beat.
Why, he is the Prince's Jester, a very dull Fool,
only his Gift is, in devising impossible Slanders? none
but Libertines delight in him, and the Condemnation is
-- 336 --
not in his Wit, but in his Villany; for he both pleaseth
Men, and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and
beat him; I am sure he is in this Fleet, I would he had
boarded me.
Bene.
When I know the Gentleman, I'll tell him what
you say.
Beat.
Do, do, he'll but break a Comparison or two on
me, which peradventure (not mark'd, or not laugh'd
at) strikes him into Melancholy, and then there's a Partridge
Wing sav'd, for the Fool will eat no Supper that
Night. We must follow the Leaders.
Bene.
In every good thing.
Beat.
Nay, if they lead to any Ill, I will leave them at
the next Turning.
[Exeunt.
Musick for the Dance.
John.
Sure my Brother is amorous on Hero, and hath
withdrawn her Father to break with him about it: The
Ladies follow her, and but one Visor remains.
Bora.
And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing.
John.
Are not you Signior Benedick?
Claud.
You know me well, I am he.
John.
Signior, you are very near my Brother in his
Love, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you dissuade him
from her, she is no equal for his Birth; you may do the
Part of an honest Man in it.
Claud.
How know you he loves her?
John.
I heard him swear his Affection.
Bora.
So did I too, and he swore he would marry her
to Night.
John.
come let us to the Banquet.
[Exeunt John and Bora.
Claud.
Thus answer I in Name of Benedick,
But hear this ill News with the Ears of Claudio.
'Tis certain so, the Prince woos for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other Things,
Save in the Office and Affairs of Love;
Therefore all Hearts in Love use their own Tongues,
Let every Eye negotiate for it self,
And trust no Agent; for Beauty is a Witch,
Against whose Charms, Faith melteth into Blood.
This is an Accident of hourly Proof,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewel therefore, Hero.
-- 337 --
Enter Benedick.
Bene.
Count Claudio.
Claud.
Yea the same.
Bene.
Come, will you go with me?
Claud.
Whither?
Bene.
Even to the next Willow, about your own Business,
Count. What Fashion will you wear the Garland
of? About your Neck, like a Usurer's Chain? Or under
your Arm, like a Lieutenant's Scarf? You must wear it
one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.
Claud
I wish him Joy of her.
Bene.
Why that's spoken like an honest Drovier, so
they sell Bullocks; but did you think the Prince would
have served you thus?
Claud.
I pray you leave me.
Bene.
No, no! you strike like the blind Man; 'twas the
Boy that stole your Meat, and you'll beat the Post.
Claud.
If it will not be, I'll leave you.
[Exit.
Bene.
Alas poor hurt Soul, now will he creep into
Sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and
not know me; the Prince's Fool! ha? it may be I go
under that Title, because I am merry; yea but so I am
apt to do my self wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the
base (though bitter) Disposition of Beatrice, that puts
the World into her Person, and so gives me out; well, I'll
be reveng'd as I may.
Enter Don Pedro.
Pedro.
Now Signior, where's the Count? did you see
him?
Bene.
Troth my Lord, I have play'd the Part of Lady
Fame, I found him here as melancholy as a Lodge in a
Warren; I told him, and I think, told him true, that your
Grace had got the Will of this young Lady, and I offered
him my Company to a Willow Tree, either to make him a
Garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him a Rod, as being
worthy to be whipt.
Pedro.
To be whipt, what's his Fault?
Bene.
The flat Transgression of a School-Boy, who
being over-joy'd with finding a Birds Nest, shews it his
Companion, and he steals it.
-- 338 --
Pedro.
Wilt thou make a Trust, a Transgression? the
Transgression is in the Stealer.
Bene.
Yet it had not been amiss the Rod had been
made, and the Garland too; for the Garland he might have
worn himself, and the Rod he might have bestowed on
you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his Birds Nest.
Pedro.
I will but teach them to sing, and restore them
to the Owner.
Bene.
If their singing answer your saying, by my Faith
you say honestly.
Pedro.
The Lady Beatrice hath a Quarrel to you, the
Gentleman that danc'd with her, told her she is much
wrong'd by you.
Bene.
O she misus'd me past the Indurance of a Block;
an Oak but with one green Leaf on it, would have answered
her; my very Visor began to assume Life, and scold
with her; she told me, not thinking I had been my
self, that I was the Prince's Jester, and that I was duller
than a great Thaw, hudling Jest upon Jest, with such impossible
conveiance upon me, that I stood like a Man at a
Mark, with a whole Army shooting at me; she speaks
Poyniards, and every Word stabs me; if her Breath were
as terrible as Terminations, there were no living near
her, she would infect to the North Star; I would not
marry her, though she were endow'd with all that Adam
had left him before he transgress'd, she would have made
Hercules have turn'd Spit, yea, and have cleft his Club to
make the Fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find
her the infernal Ate in good Apparel. I would to God
some Scholar would conjure her, for certainly while she
is here, a Man may live as quiet in Hell as in a Sanctuary,
and People sin upon Purpose, because they would go thither,
so indeed all Disquiet, Horror, and Perturbation follows her.
Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero.
Pedro.
Look here she comes.
Bene.
Will your Grace command me any Service to
the Worlds End? I will go on the slightest Errand now
to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I
will fetch you a Tooth-Picker now from the furthest Inch
of Asia; bring you the length of Prestor John's Foot; fetch
you a Hair off the great Cham's Beard; do you any Embassage
-- 339 --
to the Pigmies, rather then hold three Words
Conference with this Harpy; you have no Employment for me?
Pedro.
None, but to desire your good Company.
Bene.
O God, Sir, here's a Dish I love not, I cannot indure
this Lady's Tongue.
[Exit.
Pedro.
Come Lady, come, you have lost the Heart of
Signior Benedick.
Beat.
Indeed my Lord, he sent it me a while, and I
gave him use for it, a double Heart for a single one; Marry,
once before he won it of me with false Dice, therefore
your Grace may well say I have lost it
Pedro.
You have put him down, Lady, you have put
him down.
Beat.
So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I
should prove the Mother of Fools: I have brought Count
Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.
Pedro.
Why, how now Count, wherefore are you sad?
Claud.
Not sad, my Lord.
Pedro.
How then? sick?
Claud.
Neither, my Lord.
Beat.
The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry,
nor well; but civil Count, civil as an Orange, and something
of a jealous Complexion.
Pedro.
I'faith Lady, I think your Blazon to be true;
though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his Conceit is false.
Here Claudio, I have wooed in thy Name, and fair Hero
is won; I have broke with her Father, and his good Will
obtained, name the Day of Marriage, and God give thee Joy.
Leon.
Count, take of me my Daughter, and with her
my Fortunes; his Grace hath made the Match, and all Grace
say Amen to it.
Beat.
Speak Count, 'tis your Qu.
Claud.
Silence is the perfectest Herald of Joy; I were
but little happy if I could say, how much. Lady, as you
are mine, I am yours; I give away my self for you, and
doat upon the Exchange.
Beat.
Speak Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his Mouth
with a Kiss, and let not him speak neither.
Pedro.
In faith Lady, you have a merry Heart.
Beat.
Yea my Lord, I thank it, poor Fool, it keeps
-- 340 --
on the windy side of Care; my Cousin tells him in his Ear
that he is in my Heart.
Clau.
And so she doth, Cousin.
Beat.
Good Lord, for Alliance; thus goes every one to
the World but I, and I am Sun-burn'd, I may sit in a Corner,
and cry, heigh ho for a Husband.
Pedro.
Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat.
I would rather have one of your Father's getting;
hath your Grace ne'er a Brother like you; your Father
got excellent Husbands, if a Maid could come by them.
Pedro.
Will you have me, Lady?
Beat.
No, my Lord, unless I might have another for
working-Days, your Grace is too costly to wear every
Day: But I beseech your Grace pardon me, I was born to
speak all Mirth, and no Matter.
Pedro.
Your Silence most offends me, and to be merry
best becomes you; for out of question you were born
in a merry Hour.
Beat.
No sure my Lord, my Mother cry'd; but then
there was a Star danc'd, and under that I was born. Cousins,
God give you Joy.
Leon.
Neice, will you look to those things I told you
of?
Beat.
I cry you mercy Uncle, by you Grace's pardon.
[Exit Beatrice.
Pedro.
By my Troth a pleasant spirited Lady.
Leon.
There's little of the melancholy Element in her,
my Lord, she is never sad, but when she sleeps, and not
ever sad then; for I have heard my Daughter say, she hath
often dream'd of Unhappiness, and wak'd her self with
laughing.
Pedro.
She cannot endure to hear tell of a Husband.
Leon.
O, by no Means, she mocks all her Wooers out
of suit.
Pedro.
She were an excellent Wife for Benedick.
Leon.
O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a Week marry'd,
they would talk themselves mad.
Pedro.
Count Claudio, when mean you to go to
Church?
Clau.
To Morrow, my Lord, Time goes on Crutches,
'till Love have all his Rites.
-- 341 --
Leon.
Not 'till Monday, my dear Son, which is hence a
just seven Night, and a time too brief to, to have all things
answer my Mind.
Pedro.
Come, you shake the Head at so long a breathing,
but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not go dully by
us; I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules's Labours,
which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice
into a Mountain of Affection, the one with the other; I
would fain have it a Match, and I doubt not but to fashion
it, if you three will but minister such Assistance as I shall
give you Direction.
Leon.
My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten
Nights Watchings.
Claud.
And I my Lord.
Pedro.
And you too, gentle Hero.
Hero.
I will do any modest Office, my Lord, to help
my Cousin to a good Husband.
Pedro.
And Benedick is not the unhopefullest Husband that
I know: Thus far can I praise him, he is of a noble Strain,
of approv'd Valour, and confirm'd Honesty. I will teach
you how to humour your Cousin, that she shall fall in love
with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practise
on Benedick, and in despite of his quick Wit, and his queasie
Stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice: If we can do
this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall be ours,
for we are the only Love-gods; go with me, and I will tell
you my Drift.
[Exeunt.
Enter Don John and Borachio.
John.
It is so, the Count Claudio shall marry the Daughter
of Leonato.
Bora.
Yea, my Lord, but I can cross it.
John.
Any Bar, any Cross, any Impediment, will be
medicinable to me, I am sick in Displeasure to him, and
whatsoever comes athwart his Affection, ranges evenly with
mine; how canst thou cross this Marriage?
Bora.
Not honestly my Lord, but so covertly, that no
dishonesty shall appear in me.
John.
Shew me briefly how.
Bora.
I think I told your Lordship a Year since, how
much I am in the Favour of Margaret, the Waiting-Gentlewoman
to Hero.
-- 342 --
John.
I remember.
Bora.
I can, at any unseasonable instant of the Night, appoint
her to look out at her Lady's Chamber Window.
John.
What Life is in that, to be the Death of this
Marriage?
Bora.
The Poison of that lyes in you to temper; go you to
the Prince your Brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath
wrong'd his Honour in marrying the renown'd Claudio,
whose Estimation do you mightily hold up, to a contaminated
Stale, such a one as Hero.
John.
What proof shall I make of that?
Bora.
Proof enough, to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio,
to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you for any other
Issue?
John.
Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing.
Bora.
Go then find me a meet Hour, to draw on Pedro,
and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them that you know Hero
loves me; intend a kind of Zeal both to the Prince and
Claudio, as in a love of your Brother's Honour who hath
made this Match, and his Friends Reputation, who is thus
like to be cozen'd with the semblance of a Maid, that you
have discover'd thus; they will hardly believe this without
Trial: Offer them Instances which shall bear no less
likelihood, than to see me at her Chamber Window, hear
me call Margaret, Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio,
and bring them to see this, the very Night before the intended
Wedding, for in the mean time I will fashion the
Matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such
seeming Truths of Hero's Disloyalty, that Jealousie shall be
call'd Assurance, and all the Preparation overthrown.
John.
Grow this to what adverse Issue it can, I will put
it in Practice: Be cunning in the working this, and thy Fee
is a thousand Ducats.
Bora.
Be thou constant in the Accusation, and my Cunning
shall not shame me.
John.
I will presently go learn their Day of Marriage.
[Exeunt.
Enter Benedick and a Boy.
Bene.
Boy.
Boy.
Signior.
-- 343 --
Bene.
In my Chamber Window lyes a Book, bring it
hither to me in the Orchard.
Boy.
I am here already, Sir.
[Exit Boy.
Bene.
I know that, but I would have thee hence, and
here again. I do much wonder, that one Man seeing how
much another Man is a Fool, when he dedicates his Behaviours
to Love, will after he hath laught at such shallow Follies
in others, become the Argument of his own Scorn, by
falling in love! and such a Man is Claudio. I have known
when there was no Musick with him but the Drum and
the Fife, and now had he rather hear the Taber and the
Pipe: I have known when he would have walk'd ten Mile
a Foot, to see a good Armor; and now will he lye ten
Nights awake, carving the Fashion of a new Doublet. He
was wont to speak plain, and to the Purpose, like an honest
Man and a Soldier, and now is he turn'd Orthography,
his Words are a very fantastical Banquet, just so many
strange Dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these
Eyes? I cannot tell, I think not. I will not be sworn, but
Love may transform me to an Oister, but I'll take my Oath
on it, 'till he have made an Oister of me, he shall never
make me such a Fool: One Woman is fair, yet I am well;
another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I
am well: But 'till all Graces be in one Woman, one Woman
shall not come in my Grace. Rich she shall be, that's
certain; Wise, or I'll none; Virtuous, or I'll never cheapen
her; Fair, or I'll never look on her; Mild, or come not
near me; Noble, or not for an Angel; of good Discourse,
an excellent Musician, and her Hair shall be of what colour
it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur Love, I will
hide me in the Arbor.
Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio and Balthazar.
Pedro.
Come, shall we hear this Musick?
Claud.
Yea, my good Lord; how still the Evening is,
As hush'd on purpose to grace Harmony.
Pedro.
See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
Claud.
O very well my Lord; the Musick ended,
We'll fit the Kid-fox with a penny-worth.
Pedro.
Come Balthazar, we'll hear that Song again.
Balth.
O good my Lord, tax not so bad a Voice,
To slander Musick any more than once.
-- 344 --
Pedro.
It is the witness still of Excellency,
To put a strange Face on his own Perfection;
I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more.
Balth.
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing,
Since many a Wooer doth commence his Suit,
To her he thinks not worthy, yet he woo's,
Yet will he swear he loves.
Pedro.
Nay, pray thee come,
Or if thou wilt hold longer Argument,
Do it in Notes.
Balth.
Note this before my Notes,
There's not a Note of mine that's worth the noting.
Pedro.
Why these are very Crotchets that he speaks,
Note Notes forsooth, and nothing.
Bene.
Now divine Air, now is his Soul ravish't, is it not
strange that Sheeps Guts should hale Souls out of Mens Bodies?
Well, a Horn for my Mony, when all's done.
The 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 nony, nony.
Sing no more Ditties, sing no more;
Of Dumps so dull and heavy.
The Fraud 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 Singer, my Lord.
Pedro.
Ha, no, no Faith, thou sing'st well enough for a
shift.
Bene.
And 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 lieve have heard the
Night-raven, come what Plague could have come after it.
-- 345 --
Pedro.
Yea, marry, dost thou hear Balthazar? I pray
thee get some excellent Musick; for to Morrow 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 Neice Beatrice was in
Love with Signior Benedick?
Claud.
O ay, stalk on, stalk on, the Fowl sits. I did never
think that Lady would have loved any Man.
Leon.
No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she
should so doat 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?
Leon.
By my Troth, my Lord, I cannot tell what to think
of it, but that she loves him with an inraged Affection, it
is past the infinite of Thought.
Pedro.
May be she doth but counterfeit.
Claud.
Faith like enough.
Leon.
O God! counterfeit? There was never 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, the Fish will bite.
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.
I should think this a Gull, but that the white-bearded
Fellow speaks it; Knavery cannot sure hide himself
in such Reverence.
Claud.
He hath tane th' Infection, hold it up.
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 I love him?
-- 346 --
Leon.
This says she, now when she is beginning to write
to him, she'll be up twenty times a Night, and there will
she sit in her Smock, 'till she have writ a Sheet of Paper;
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.
O when she had writ it, and reading it over, she
found Benedick and Beatrice between the Sheet.
Claud.
That.
Leon.
O she tore the Letter into a thousand Halfpence,
rail'd at her self, 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, I 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
Extasie hath so much overborn her, that my Daughter is
sometime afraid she will do a desperate Out-rage to her self,
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.
And 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 upon me;
I would have daft all other Respects, and made her half my
self; 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 e'er she
-- 347 --
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 Man, as you
know all, hath a contemptible Spirit.
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 see 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 see
Benedick, and tell him of her Love?
Claud.
Never tell him, my Lord, let her wait 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 well, and I could
wish he would modestly examine himself, to shew 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.
Pedro.
Let there be the same Net spread for her, and that
must your Daughter and her Gentlewoman carry; the sport
will be, when they hold one an Opinion of another's dotage,
and no such matter, that's the Scene that I would see which
will be meerly a dumb shew; let us send her to call him
to Dinner.
[Exeunt.
-- 348 --
Bene.
This can be no Trick, the Conference was sadly born;
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 my self 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 to have
some odd quirks and remains 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 Dinnner.
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 so much as you may take upon a Knives
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 took Pains to thank
me; that's as much as to say, any Pains that I take for you
is as easie 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.
-- 349 --
Charles Gildon [1709–1710], The works of Mr. William Shakespear; in six [seven] volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe ([Vol. 7] Printed for E. Curll... and E. Sanger [etc.], London) [word count] [S11401].
