[MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.]noteIntroductory matterAs performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, on Friday, February 24th, 1843.
Castlist
Characters.
DON PEDRO, (Prince of Arragon)Mr. Hudson.
DON JOHN, (his Bastard Brother)Mr. Lynne.
CLAUDIO, (a Nobleman of Florence, favourite to Don Pedro)Mr. Anderson.
BENEDICK, (a Nobleman of Padua, favoured also by Don Pedro)Mr. Macready.
LEONATO, (Governor of Messina)Mr. Phelps.
ANTONIO, (his Brother)Mr. W. Bennett.
BALTHAZAR[Balthasar], (Servant to Don Pedro) Mr. Allen.
BORACHIO, (Follower of Don John)Mr. G. Bennett.
CONRADE (Follower of Don John)Mr. Selby.
DOGBERRY, (a foolish Officer)Mr. Compton.
VERGES, (a foolish Officer)Mr. Keeley.
WATCHMAN [Seacoal],Mr. Bender.WATCHMAN [Oatcake],Mr. Hance.SEXTON,Mr. M. Barnett.FRIAR,Mr. Ryder.PAGE,Miss Newcombe.GIACOPO,Mr. Stanton.HERO, (Daughter to Leonato)Miss Fortescue.
BEATRICE, (Niece to Leonato)Mrs. Nisbett.
MARGARET, (Gentlewoman attending on Hero)Miss Fairbrother.
URSULA. (Gentlewoman attending on Hero)Miss Ellis.
Lords and Ladies, Pages, Watchmen, Attendants, &c.[Messenger], [Officer]
-- 5 --
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
ACT I.Scene I.—Messina.—Before the House of Leonato.Enter several Gentlemen and Attendants, Leonato, Hero, Beatrice, Ursula, Margaret, four Ladies, two Pages, and a Messenger from Portico, L. 3. E.
Leon. (C.)
I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon
comes this night to Messina.
Messen. (R. C.)
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?
Messen.
But few of any sort, and none of name.
Leon.
A victory is twice itself, when the achiever brings
home full numbers. I find here, that Don Pedro hath
bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, called
Claudio.
Messen.
Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered
by Don Pedro.
Beat. (crosses, C.)
I pray you, is Signior Montanto returned
from the wars, or no?
Messen.
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, niece?
Hero. (L.)
My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
Messen.
O, he is returned, and as pleasant as ever he
was.
Beat.
I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten
in these wars? But how many hath he killed? for indeed,
I promised to eat all of his killing.
Leon.
Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much;
bu the'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.
Messen.
He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.
Beat.
You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat
-- 6 --
it: he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent
stomach.
Messen.
And a good soldier too, lady.
Beat.
And a good soldier to a lady; but what is he
to a lord?
Messen.
A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with
all honourable virtues.
Beat.
It is so, indeed: he is no less than a stuffed man:
but for the stuffing, well, we are all mortal.
(crosses, L.)
Leon. (C.)
You must not, sir, mistake my niece: 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. (L.)
Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last
conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is
the whole man governed with one. Who is his companion
now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.
Messen.
Is't possible?
Beat.
Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as
the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next
block.
Messen.
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?
Messen.
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. Heaven help the noble Claudio! if he have
caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound
ere he be cured.
Leon.
You will never run mad, niece.
Beat.
No, not till a hot January.
(flourish, R. U. E.)
Messen. (looking off)
Don Pedro is approached.
Enter Don Pedro, attended by Don John, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others, R. 4. E.; they are saluted by Leonato and his Party. [unresolved image link]
Don P.
Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet
-- 7 --
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.
Don P.
You embrace your charge too willingly. I think
this is your daughter.
(bowing to Hero)
Leon.
Her mother hath many times told me so.
Bened. (R. C.)
Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?
Leon.
Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.
Don P.
You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by
this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers
herself.—Be happy, lady! for you are like an honourable
father. (all but Benedick and Beatrice converse in a
group, up, C.)
Bened.
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. (advancing, C.)
I wonder that you will still be talking,
Signior Benedick; nobody marks you.
Bened.
What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living?
Beat. (L. C.)
Is it possible disdain should die, while she
hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesey
itself must convert to disdain if you come in her
presence.
Bened. (C.)
Then is courtesy a turncoat.—But it is
certain I am loved 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.
Beat.
A dear happiness to women; they would else
have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank
heaven, 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.
Bened.
Heaven keep your ladyship still in that mind!
so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate
scratched face.
Beat.
Scratching could not make it worse, an 't were
such a face as yours.
Bened.
Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
-- 8 --
Beat.
A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
Bened.
I would my horse had the speed of your tongue;
and so good a continuer. But keep your way o' heaven's
name; I have done.
Beat.
You always end with a jade's trick; I know you
of old.
(they go up, R. and L., the rest advancing)
Don P. (C.)
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. (R. C.)
If you swear, my lord, you shall not be
forsworn. (to Don John) Let me bid you welcome, my lord:
being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you
all duty.
Don John. (R.)
I thank you: I am not of many words, but
I thank you.
Leon.
Please it your grace lead on?
Don P.
Your hand, Leonato; we will go together.
Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio, L. 3 E.
Claudio.
Benedick! (he comes down, L. C.) didst thou
note the daughter of Signior Leonato?
Bened.
I noted her not: but I looked on her.
Claudio.
Is she not a modest young lady?
Bened.
Do you question me, as an honest man should do,
for my simple true judgment; or would you have me
speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to
their sex.
Claudio. (C.)
No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment.
Bened. (L. C.)
Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low
for a 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.
Claudio.
Thou thinkest I am in sport; I pray thee tell
me truly how thou likest her.
Bened.
Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?
Claudio.
Can the world buy such a jewel?
Bened.
Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you
this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack?
-- 9 --
Claudio.
In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever
I looked on.
Bened.
I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no
such matter: there's her cousin, an she were not possessed
with 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?
Claudio.
I would scarce trust myself, though I had
sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.
Bened.
Is't come to this, i' faith? Hath not the
world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion?
Shall I never see a bachelor of three-score again? Go
to, i' faith: an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a
yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look,
Don Pedro is returned to seek you. (crosses, R.)
Re-enter Don Pedro, L. 3 E.
Don P.
What secret hath held you here, that you
followed not to Leonato's?
Bened. (R.)
I would your grace would constrain me to tell.
Don P. (L. C.)
I charge thee on thy allegiance.
Bened. (crosses, C.)
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.
Claudio.
If this were so, so were it uttered.
Bened.
Like the old tale, my lord: “it is not so, nor
'twas not so; but, indeed, heaven forbid it should be so.”
Claudio. (R.)
If my passion change not shortly, heaven
forbid it should be otherwise.
Don P. (L.)
Amen, if you love her; for the lady is
very well worthy.
Claudio.
You speak this, to fetch me in, my lord.
Don P.
By my troth, I speak my thought.
Claudio.
And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.
Bened. (C.)
And by my two faiths and troths, my lord,
I spoke mine.
Claudio.
That I love her, I feel.
Don P.
That she is worthy, I know.
-- 10 --
Bened.
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.
Don P.
Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the
despite of beauty.
Claudio.
And never could maintain his part but in the
force of his will.
Bened.
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 recheat winded in my
forehead, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not
do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the
right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the which I may
go the finer,) I will live a bachelor.
Don P.
I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.
Bened.
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—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.
Don P.
Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou
wilt prove a notable argument.
Bened.
If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot
at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder
and called, Adam.
Don P.
Well, as time shall try:
“In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.”
Bened.
The savage bull may, but if ever this 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 horse to
hire,” let them signify under my sign,—“Here you may
see Benedick the married man.” (crosses, R.)
Don P.
Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in
Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.
Bened.
I look for an earthquake too then.
Don P.
Well, you will temporize with the hours. In
the meantime, 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.
-- 11 --
Bened.
I have almost matter enough in me for such an
embassage; “and so I commit you”—(going up)
Claudio.
“To the tuition of heaven: From my house,”
(if I had it)—
Don P.
“The sixth of July: Your loving friend,”
Benedick.
Bened.
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 farther, examine your conscience—and so I
leave you.
Exit Benedick, L. 3 E.
Claudio.
My liege, your highness now may do me good.
Don P. (L. C.)
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.
Claudio.
Hath Leonato any son, my lord?
Don P.
No child but Hero, she's his only heir:
Dost thou affect her, Claudio?
Claudio.
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.
Don P.
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?
Claudio.
How sweetly do you minister to love,
That know love's grief by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise.
Don P.
What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
The fairest ground is the necessity.
Look, what will serve is fit: 'tis once, thou lovest;
-- 12 --
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, L. 3 E.Scene II.—A Hall in Leonato's House.Enter Don John and Conrade, L. 1 E.
Conrade.
What the good year, my lord! why are you
thus out of measure sad?
Don John.
There is no measure in the occasion that
breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit.
Conrade.
You should hear reason.
Don John.
And when I have heard it, what blessing
bringeth it?
Conrade.
If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance.
You have of late stood out against your brother,
and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace; where it is
impossible you should take true root, but by the fair
weather that you make yourself: it is needful that you
frame the season for your own harvest.
Don John.
I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a
rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdained
of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any. I
am trusted with a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog;
therefore, I have decreed not to sing in my cage;—
if I had my mouth I would bite; if I had my liberty I
would do my liking: in the meantime, let me be that I
am, and seek not to alter me.
Conrade.
Can you make no use of your discontent?
Don John.
I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who
comes here? What news, Borachio? (crosses to C.)
Enter Borachio, L. 1 E.
Borach.
I came yonder from a great supper; the prince,
-- 13 --
your brother, is royally entertained by Leonato; and I
can give you intelligence of an intended marriage.
Don John. (C.)
Will it serve for any model to build
mischief on? What is he for a fool, that betroths himself
to unquietness?
Borach. (L.)
Marry, it is your brother's right hand.
Don John.
Who? the most exquisite Claudio?
Borach.
Even he.
Don John.
A proper squire! And who, and who?
which way looks he?
Borach.
Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of
Leonato.
Don John.
A very forward March-chick! How came
you to this?
Borach.
I heard it agreed upon, that the prince should
woo her for himself, and having obtained her give her to
Count Claudio.
Don John.
Come, come, let us thither; (crosses)this may prove food to my displeasure: that young start-up
hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross
him in any way I bless myself every way. You are both
sure, and will assist me?
Conrade. (C.)
To the death, my lord.
Don John.
Let us to the great supper: their cheer is
the greater that I am subdued: 'Would the cook were of
my mind!
Exeunt, L. 1 E.END OF ACT I. Time—17 minutes.
ACT II.Scene I.—A Ball Room in Leonato's House.Enter Leonato, L. U. E. meeting Antonio, R. 1 E.
Anton.
Brother, I can tell you news that you yet
dreamt not of. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in
a thick pleached alley in the orchard, were thus overheard
-- 14 --
by a man of mine: The prince discovered to Claudio that
he loved my niece, 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.
Leon.
Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
Anton.
A good sharp fellow; I will send for him, and
question him yourself.
Leon.
No, no; we will hold it as a dream, till it appear
itself:—but we will acquaint my daughter withal, that she
may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure
this be true. Go you, and tell her of it.
Several Maskers cross the stage—then enter Hero, Beatrice, and others, R. 1 E.
Leon. (L. C.)
Was not Count John here at supper?
Anton. (C.)
I saw him not.
Beat. (R.)
How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can
see him, but I am heart-burned an hour after.
Hero. (R. C.)
He is of a very 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 tattling.
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
money 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, niece, thou wilt never get thee a
husband if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
Beat.
For the which blessing I am upon my knees
every morning and evening: Lord! I could not endure
a husband with a beard on his face.
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
-- 13 --
is not for me; and he that is less than a man I am not for
him.
Anton. (who has been conversing with Hero)
Well,
niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father.
Beat.
Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make courtsey,
and say, “Father, as it please you:”—but yet for
all that cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else
make another courtsey, and say, “Father, as it please me.”
Leon.
Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted
with a husband.
Beat.
Not till heaven make men of some other metal
than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered
with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account
of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I'll
none: Adam's sons are my brethren; and truly, I hold it
a sin to match in my kindred.
Leon.
Daughter, remember; if the prince do solicit you
in that kind, you know your answer.
Beat.
The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be
not woo'd in good time: if the prince be too important,
tell him there is measure in everything, and so dance out
the answer: for hear me, Hero; wooing, wedding, and
repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace;
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 ancestry; and then comes
repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace
faster and faster till he sinks into his grave.
Leon.
Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beat.
I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by
daylight.
Leon.
The revellers are entering, brother; make good
room.
Music.—Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar; Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others masked, R. 1 E.
(Dance of Maskers.)
Don P. (C.)
Lady, will you walk about with your
friend?
Hero. (L. C.)
So you walk softly, and look sweetly,
-- 14 --
and say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and, especially,
when I walk away.
Don P.
With me in your company?
Hero.
I may say so, when I please.
Don P.
And when please you to say so?
Hero.
When I like your favour; for heaven defend,
the lute should be like the case!
Don P.
My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.
Hero.
Why, then your visor should be thatch'd.
Don. P.
Speak low, if you speak love.
(Music—takes her aside, R., and up—during the above, Beatrice follows Benedick about—they come down)
Beat. (C.)
Will you not tell me who told you so?
Bened. (L., in a feigned voice)
No, you shall pardon me.
Beat.
Nor will you not tell me who are you?
Bened.
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.
Bened.
What's he?
Beat.
I am sure you know him well enough.
Bened.
Not I, believe me.
Beat.
Did he never make you laugh?
Bened.
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 commendation is not in
his wit, but in his villainy; for he both pleaseth men and
angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him.
Bened.
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 marked, or not laughed at,
strikes him into melancholy; and then there's a partridge's
wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night.
Music—the Company go off slowly, L. U. E.
We must follow the leaders.
(going up stage)
Bened.
In every good thing.
Beat.
Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at
the next turning.
All exeunt but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio.
-- 15 --
Don John. (C.)
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.
Borach. (R. C.)
And that is Claudio: I know him by
his bearing.
Don John. (going to Claudio)
Are not you Signior
Benedick?
Claudio. (L.)
You know me well; I am he.
Don John.
Signior, you are very near my brother in
his love: he is enamoured 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.
Claudio.
How know you he loves her?
Don John.
I heard him swear his affection.
Borach.
So did I too; and he swore he would marry
her to-night.
Don John.
Come, let us to the banquet.
Exeunt Don John and Borachio, L. U. E.
Claudio.
Thus answer I in name of Benedick,
But hear these 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 itself,
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: Farewell, therefore, Hero! (crosses, R.)
Re-enter Benedick, L. U. E.
Bened.
Count Claudio?
Claudio.
Yea, the same.
Bened.
Come, will you go with me?
Claudio. (R. C.)
Whither?
Bened. (C.)
Even to the next willow, about your own
business, count. What fashion will you wear the garland
of! About your neck, like an 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.
-- 16 --
Claudio.
I wish him joy of her. (crosses, L.)
Bened.
Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so
they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would
have served you thus?
Claudio.
I pray, you leave me. (crosses, R.)
Bened.
Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 't was
the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.
Claudio.
If it will not be, I'll leave you.
Exit, L. U. E.
Bened.
Alas! poor hurt fowl! 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 myself 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 revenged as I may.
Re-enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Hero, R. U. E.; Leonato and Hero walk about at back.
Don P. (L. C.)
Now, Signior, where's the Count? Did
you see him?
Bened. (R. C.)
Troth, my lord, I have played 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 whipped.
Don P.
To be whipped! What's his fault?
Bened.
The flat transgression of a schoolboy; who,
being overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it his
companion, and he steals it.
Don P.
Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The
transgression is in the stealer.
Bened.
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 stolen his bird's nest.
Don P.
I will but teach them to sing, and restore them
to the owner.
-- 17 --
Bened.
If their singing answer your saying, by my
faith, you say honestly.
Don P.
The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the
gentleman that danced with her told her she is much
wronged by you.
Bened. (C.)
O, she misused me past the endurance 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 myself, that I was the prince's jester, and that I was
duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest, with
such impossible conveyance, upon me, that I stood like a
man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me: She
speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath
were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living
near her; she would infect to the north star. I would
not marry her though she were endowed with all that
Adam had left him before he transgressed: she would
have made Hercules have turned spit; yea, and have cleft
his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you
shall find her the infernal Até in good apparel. I would
to heaven 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 follow her. (crosses, L.)
Re-enter Claudio and Beatrice, L. U. E.
Don P. (C.)
Look, here she comes.
Bened. (L. C.)
Will your grace command me any service
to the world's 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 toothpicker now from the farthest inch
of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot;
fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any
embassage to the Pigmies,—rather than hold three words'
conference with this harpy.—You have no employment
for me? (crosses)
Don P.
None, but to desire your good company.
Bened.
O lord, sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot
endure my lady Tongue. (struggling from him off, R. 1 E.)
-- 18 --
Don P.
Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of
Signior Benedick.
Beat.
Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I
gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one:
marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore
your grace may well say I lost it.
Don P.
You have put him down, lady, you have put
him down.
Beat.
So I would not he should me, my lord, lest
I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought Count
Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.
Don P.
Why, how now, count—wherefore are you sad?
Claudio.
Not sad, my lord.
Don P. (C.)
How then—sick?
Claudio. (L.)
Neither, my lord.
Beat. (L. C.)
The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor
merry, nor well; but civil, count, civil as an orange,
and something of that jealous complexion.
Don P.
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 heaven 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 cue.
(going up and round to R.)
Claudio.
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were
but little happy if I could say how much. (crosses, C.)
Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I gave away myself
for you, and dote upon the exchange.
Beat.
Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth
with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. (they go up)
Don P.
In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
Beat.
Yea, my lord, I thank it; poor fool, it keeps on
[unresolved image link]
-- 19 --
the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear
that he is in her heart.
Claudio.
And so she doth, cousin. (up stage)
Beat. (C.)
Good lord, for alliance thus goes every one
to the world but I, and I am sunburned; I may sit in a
corner and cry heigh-ho! for a husband!
Don P. (L. C.)
Will you have me, lady?
Beat. (C.)
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.
Don P.
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 cried; but then
there was a star danced, and under that was I born.—
(to Hero and Claudio) Cousins, heaven give you joy!
Leon. (L. C.)
Niece, will you look to those things I told
you of?
Beat.
I cry you mercy, uncle. (crosses, R.)—By your
grace's pardon.
Beatrice curtseys to Don Pedro and goes off, R. 1 E.
Don P.
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
even sad then, for I have heard my daughter say, she
hath often dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself
with laughing.
Don P.
She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband?
Leon.
Oh! by no means, she mocks all her wooers out
of suit.
Don P.
She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leon.
Oh lord! My lord, if they were but a week
married, they would talk themselves mad.
Don P.
Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?
Claudio.
To-morrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches
till love have all his rites.
Leon.
Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a
just seven-night; and a time too brief too, to have all things
answer my mind.
(going up and round to R.)
Don P. (L. C.)
Come, you shake the head at so long a
breathing; but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not
-- 20 --
go dully by us. I will, in the interim, undertake one of
Hercules' 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. (R.)
My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten
nights' watchings.
Claudio. (C.)
And I, my lord.
Don P.
And you too, gentle Hero?
Hero. (R. C.)
I will do any modest office, my lord, to
help my cousin to a good husband.
Don P.
And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband
that I know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble
strain, of approved valour, and confirmed 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, that, in despite of his quick wit
and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice.
If we can do this this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his
glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in
with me, and I will tell you my drift.
Exeunt, R. 1 E.Scene II.—A Hall in Leonato's House (1st grooves).Enter Don John and Borachio, R. 1 E.
Don John.
It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the
daughter of Leonato.
Borach.
Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.
Don 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 cans't thou cross this marriage?
Borach.
Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that
no dishonesty shall appear in me.
Don John.
Show me briefly how.
Borach.
I think I told your lordship, a year since, how
much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman
to Hero.
Don John.
I remember.
Borach.
I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night,
appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window.
-- 21 --
Don John.
What life is in that, to be the death of this
marriage?
Borach.
The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go
you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that
he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned
Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a
contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.
Don John.
What proof shall I make of that?
Borach.
Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex
Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look for any
other issue?
Don John.
Only to despite them, I will endeavour
anything.
Borach.
Go then; find me a meet hour to draw Don
Pedro and the Count Claudio, alone: tell them that you
know that Hero loves me. They will scarcely 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 so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and
there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty,
that jealousy shall be called assurance, and all the preparation
overthrown.
Don 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.
Borach.
Be you constant in the accusation, and my
cunning shall not shame me.
Don John.
I will presently go learn their day of marriage.
Exeunt Borachio and Don John, L. 1 E.
Scene III.—Leonato's Garden; several garden chairs, R. 2 E.; an arbour from R. 1 E.
Benedick discovered seated.
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 laughed at such shallow follies in
others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling
-- 22 --
in love: And such a man is Claudio. I have known
when there was no music with him but the drum and the
fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe:
I have known when he would have walked ten mile afoot
to see a good armour; and now will he lie 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 turned orthographer;
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 will transform me to an oyster; but
I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster 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
I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician,
and her hair shall be of what colour it please heaven.
Ha! the prince and monsieur Love! I will hide me in
the arbour.
Withdraws into arbour, R.[unresolved image link]Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, Balthazar, and Musicians, L. 1 E.
Don P.
Come, shall we hear this music?
Claudio.
Yea, my good lord.—How still the evening is,
As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!
Don P.
See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
Claudio.
O, very well, my lord: the music ended,
We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.
Don P.
Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. (they sit—music)
-- 23 --
Balthazar sings.
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 you be blithe and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.
Sing no more ditties, ladies, sing no mo,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, &c.
Don P.
By my troth, a good song.
Balthaz.
And an ill singer, my lord.
Bened. (aside)
An he had been a dog that should have
howled thus, they would have hanged him: and I pray
his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard
the night-raven, come what plague could have come
after it.
Don P.
Yea, marry; (to Claudio) Dost thou hear,
Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music; for
to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's
chamber-window.
Balthaz.
The best I can my lord.
Don P.
Do so: farewell.
Exit Balthazar and Musicians, L. 1 E.
Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of today?
that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior
Benedick?
Claudio.
O, ay:—Stalk on, stalk on: the fowl sits.
(aside to Pedro) I did never think that lady would have
loved any man.
Leona.
No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she
should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in
all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor.
-- 24 --
Bened. (listening, R.)
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 enraged affection,
—it is past the infinite of thought.
Don P.
May be, she doth but counterfeit.
Claudio.
'Faith, like enough.
Leon.
Counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of
passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it.
Don P.
Why, what effects of passion shows she?
Claudio. (aside)
Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.
Leon.
What effects, my lord! She will sit you.—You
heard my daughter tell you how.
Claudio.
She did, indeed.
Don P.
How, how, I pray you? You amaze me:
(sitting) I would have thought her spiris had been invincible
against all assaults of affection.
Leon.
I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially
against Benedick. (sitting)
Bened. (aside)
I should think this a gull, but that the
white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure,
hide himself in such reverence.
Claudio. (aside)
He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up.
Don P.
Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?
Leon.
No; and swears she never will: that's her torment.
Claudio.
'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says.
“Shall I,” says she, that have so often encountered him
with scorn, write to him that I love him?” Then down
upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart,
tears her hair, prays, curses; “Oh, sweet Benedick!
Heaven give me patience!”
Leon.
She doth, indeed; my daughter says so: and
the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter
is sometimes afeard she will do desperate outrage to herself.
Don P.
It were good that Benedick knew of it by
some other, if she will not discover it.
Claudio.
To what end? He would but make a sport
of it, and torment the poor lady worse.
Don P.
An he should, it were an alms to hang him:
She's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion,
she is virtuous.
-- 25 --
Claudio.
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.
Don P.
Well, we will hear farther of it by your daughter;
let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could
wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much
he is unworthy so good a lady.
(a dinner bell rings, R.)
Leon.
My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready. (they rise)
Claudio. (aside)
If he do not dote on her upon this, I
will never trust my expectation.
Don P. (aside)
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 an opinion of one
another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene
that I would see. Let us send her to call him to dinner.
Exeunt, R.; Benedick advances softly to C.
Bened.
This can be no trick: the conference was sadly
borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They
seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have their
full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. (crosses
to R.) I hear how I am censured; 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. (returns to C.) 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
and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed
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 bachelor, I did not think I should
live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this
-- 26 --
day, she's a fair lady: (takes off his hat and wipes it—
adjusts his dress) I do spy some marks of love in her.
Enter Beatrice, R.
Beat. (R.)
Against my will, I am sent to bid you come
in to dinner.
Bened. (L. C.)
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.
Bened.
You take pleasure, then, in the message?
Beat.
Yea, must so much as you may take upon a knife's
point, and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach,
Signior; fare you well.
Exit, R.
Bened.
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 on her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a
Jew. I will go get her picture.
Exit, R.END OF ACT II.ACT III.Scene I.—Leonato's Garden.Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula, L.
Hero. (R. C.)
Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour,
There shalt thou find my cousin, Beatrice;
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the garden here,
To listen our purpose. This is thy office,
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
-- 27 --
Marg.
I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.
Exit Margaret, R.
Hero. (R.)
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick:
When I do name him let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice: of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay. (aside) Now begin;
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference. Enter Beatrice, R. U. E. and retires back on R.
Ursula. (C. aside)
Fear you not my part of the dialogue. (they walk backwards and forwards during the dialogue)
Hero. (C.)
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know, her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock. (going, R.)
Ursula.
But are you sure,
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
Hero.
So says the prince, and my new-trothed lord.
They did entreat me to acquaint her of it:
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it. (going, L.)
Ursula.
Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
Hero.
O, god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; (going, R.)
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matters else seem weak. She cannot love,
Nor take no shape, nor project of affection,
She is so self-endear'd.
Ursula.
Sure, I think so; (going, L.)
-- 28 --
And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Hero.
Why, you speak truth: I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd,
She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic,
Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut:
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out;
And never gives to truth and virtue, that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
Ursula.
Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
Hero.
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.
Ursula.
Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
Hero.
No, rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion:
And truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with: one doth not know,
How much an ill word may empoison liking.
Ursula.
Oh, do not do your cousin such a wrong;
She cannot be so much without true judgment,
(Having so sweet and excellent a wit
As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
Hero.
Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Ursula.
His excellence did earn it ere he had it.—
When are you married, madam?
Hero.
Why, in a day;—to-morrow. Come, go in:
I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel,
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. (going, R.)
Ursula.
She's limed, I warrant you; we have caught her, madam.(aside)
-- 29 --
Hero. (aside)
If it proves so, then loving goes by haps;
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. Exeunt Hero and Ursula, R. 1 E.
Beatrice advances cautiously.
Beat.
What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee:
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band:
For others say, thou dost deserve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly. Exit, R.Scene II.—A Hall in Leonato's House. (2nd grooves.)Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Leonato, and Benedick, L.
Don P. (C.)
I do but stay till your marriage be consummate,
and then go I toward Arrago.
Claudio.
I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe
me.
Don P. (C.)
Nay; that would be as great a soil in the new
gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat, and
forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick
for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the
sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice
cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not
shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his
tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue
speaks.
Bened. (R. C., sighing)
Gallants, I am not as I have
been.
Leon. (R.)
So say I! methinks, you are sadder.
Claudio.
I hope, he be in love.
Don P.
Hang him, truant! there's no true drop of blood
in him, to be truly touched with love. If he be sad, he
wants money.
Bened.
I have the tooth-ache.
Don P.
Draw it.
-- 30 --
Bened. (sighing)
Hang it!
Don P.
What! sigh for the tooth-ache?
Leon.
Which is but a humour, or a worm?
Bened.
Well, every one can master a grief, but he that
has it.
Claud.
Yet say I, he is in love. If he be not in love
with some woman, there is no believing old signs; he
brushes his hat o'mornings; what should that bode? (snatches his hat from his hand and going over to L.—
Benedick following to recover it)
* noteDon. (Noticing that Benedick is without the beard he formerly wore.)
He looks younger than he did, by the loss of
a beard. * note(all laugh at Benedick.)
Don. P.
Nay, he rubs himself with civet: can you
smell him out by that? (snatching his handkerchief—
Benedick attempts to regain it—Don Pedro, R. C. throws
it across to Claudio, L.)
Claud.
That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's
in love.
Don P.
The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
Claud.
Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is crept into
a lutestring, and now governed with stops.
Don P.
Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude,
conclude, he is in love.
Claud.
Nay, but I know who loves him.
Don P.
That would I know too; I warrant, one that
knows him not.
Claud.
Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despite of
all, dies for him.
Don P.
She shall be buried with her face upwards.
Bened.
Yet this is no charm for the tooth-ache.—Old
Signior, (to Leonato) walk aside with me; (retiring, R.)
-- 31 --
I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you,
which these hobby-horses must not hear.
Exeunt Benedick, (after looking angrily at Don Pedro and Claudio,) and Leonato, R.
Don P.
For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.
Claud. (L.)
'Tis even so: Hero and Margaret have, by
this time, played their parts with Beatrice; and then the
two bears will not bite one another, when they meet.
Enter Don John, L.
Don John.
My lord and brother, heaven save you!
Don P. (C.)
Good den, brother.
Don John.
If your leisure served, I would speak with
you.
Don P.
In private?
Don John.
If it please you;—yet Count Claudio may
hear; for what I would speak of concerns him.
Don P.
What's the matter?
Don John.
Means your lordship to be married to-morrow?
Don P.
You know, he does.
Don John.
I know not that, when he knows what
I know.
Claud. (R.)
If there be any impediment, I pray you
discover it.
Don John.
You may think, I love you not; let that
appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will
manifest. For my brother, I think, he holds you well;
and, in dearness of heart, hath holp to effect your
ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill spent, and labour ill
bestowed!
Don P.
Why, what's the matter?
Don John.
I came hither to tell you, and, circumstances
shortened, for she hath too long been a-talking of, the
lady is disloyal.
Claud. (crosses, C.)
Who? Hero!
Don John.
Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero,
every man's Hero.
Claud.
Disloyal!
Don John.
The word is too good to paint out her
wickedness: I could say, she were worse; think you of
-- 32 --
a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till
farther warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall see
her chamber-window entered, even the night before her
wedding-day; if you love her then, to-morrow wed her;
but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.
Claud.
May this be so?
Don P.
I will not think it.
Don John.
If you dare not trust that you see, confess
not that you know. If you will follow me, I will show
you enough; and when you have seen more, and heard
more, proceed accordingly.
Claud.
If I see anything to-night why I should not
marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should
wed, there will I shame her.
Don P.
And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will
join with thee to disgrace her.
John.
I will disparage her no farther, till you are my
witnesses; bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the
issue show itself.
Exeunt, L.Scene III.—The Street—a bulk erected, C.—(4th grooves)
Enter Dogberry with a lanthorn; Verges, Seacoal, Oatcake, and four Watchmen, with bills, L. U. E.
Dogb. (R. C.)
Are you good men and true?
Verges. (C.)
Yea, or else it were pity but they should
suffer salvation, body and soul.
Dogb.
Nay, that were a punishment too good for them,
if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen
for the prince's watch.
Verges.
Well, give them their charge, neighbour
Dogberry.
Dogb.
First, who think you the most desartless man to
be constable?
Verges.
Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for
they can write and read.
Dogb.
Come hither, neighbour Seacoal: (crosses, C.)
Heaven hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well-favoured
man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read
comes by nature.
Seacoal. (L. C.)
Both which, Master Constable—
-- 33 --
Dogb. (C.)
You have: I knew it would be your answer.
Well, for your favour, sir, why, give heaven thanks, and
make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading,
let that appear when there is no need of such vanity. You
are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for
the constable of the watch: therefore, bear you the
lantern: (gives it) This is your charge:—You shall comprehend
all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand,
in the prince's name.
Seacoal.
How if a will not stand?
Dogb.
Why then, take no note of him, but let him go;
and presently call the rest of the watch together, and
thank heaven you are rid of a knave.
Verges. (R. C.)
If he will not stand when he is bidden,
he is none of the prince's subjects.
Dogb.
True; and they are to meddle with none but
the prince's subjects. You shall also make no noise in
the streets; for, for the watch to babble and talk, is most
tolerable, and not to be endured.
Seacoal.
We will rather sleep than talk; we know
what belongs to a watch.
Dogb.
Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet
watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend:
only, have a care that your bills be not stolen:—Well,
you are to call at all the alehouses, and bid those that are
drunk get them to bed.
Seacoal.
How if they will not?
Dogb.
Why then, let them alone till they are sober:
if they make you not then the better answer, you may
say, they are not the men you took them for.
Seacoal.
Well, sir.
Dogb.
If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by
virtue of your office, to be no true man; and, for such
kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them,
why, the more is for your honesty.
Seacoal.
If we know him to be a thief, shall we not
lay hands on him?
Dogb.
Truly, by your office, you may; but, I think,
they that touch pitch will be defiled. The most peaceable
way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him show
himself what he is, and steal out of your company.
-- 34 --
Verges.
You have been always called a merciful man,
partner.
Dogb.
Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; much
more a man who hath any honesty in him. (crosses, R.)
Verges.
If you hear a child cry in the night, you must
call to the nurse, and bid her still it.
Seacoal.
How, if the nurse be asleep, and will not
hear us?
Dogb.
Why then, (crosses, C.) depart in peace, and let
the child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not
hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when
he bleats.
Verges. (R.)
'Tis very true.
Dogb.
This is the end of the charge. You, constable,
are to present the prince's own person; if you meet the
prince in the night, you may stay him.
Verges.
Nay, by'rlady, that, I think he cannot.
Dogb.
Five shillings to one on't with any man, that
knows the statutes, he may stay him: marry, not without
the prince be willing: for, indeed the watch ought to
offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against
his will.
Verges.
By'r lady, I think it be so.
Dogb.
Ha! ha! ha! Well, masters, good night:
(going, L.) an there be any matter of weight chances, call up
me. Keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and good
night.—Come, neighbour.
Exeunt Dogberry and Verges, L.
Seacoal.
Well masters, we hear our charge: let us go
sit upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.
Re-enter Dogberry and Verges, L.
Dogb.
One word more, honest neighbours: I pray you,
watch about Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being
there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. Adieu!
be vigilant, I beseech you.
Exeunt Dogberry and Verges, L.—the Watch go up, C.
Borachio. (without, R.)
What, Conrade!—
Seacoal. (aside, to his party at back)
Peace, stir not.
-- 35 --
Enter Borachio, R. 1 E.
Borach.
Conrade, I say!
Enter Conrade, R. 1 E.
Conrade. (R.)
Here, man, I am at your elbow.
Borachio.
Stand thee close, then, under this penthouse,
for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter
all to thee.
Seacoal. (aside)
Some treason, masters; yet stand
close.
Borach.
Therefore know, I have earned of Don John
a thousand ducats.
Conrade.
Is it possible that any villainy should be so
dear.
Borach. (C.)
Thou should'st rather ask, if it were
possible any villainy should be so rich; for, when rich
villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may have what
price they will.
Conrade.
I wonder at it.
Borach.
That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest
that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is
nothing to a man.
Conrade.
Yes, it is apparel.
Borach.
I mean the fashion.
Conrade.
Yes, the fashion is the fashion.
Borach.
Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the fool.
—But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is?
Sea. (aside as before)
I know that Deformed; he has
been a vile thief these seven year; he goes up and down
like a gentleman: I remember his name.
Borach.
Didst thou not hear somebody?
Conrade.
No; 'twas the vane on the house.
Borach.
Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief
this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hot
bloods, between fourteen and five and thirty.
Conrade.
Art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion
too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of
the fashion.
Borach.
Not so, neither: but know, that I have to-night
wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the
-- 36 --
name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress' chamber
window; bids me a thousand times good night.—I tell
this tale vilely: I should first tell thee, how the prince,
Claudio, and my master, planted, and placed, and possessed
by my master, Don John, saw afar off, in the orchard, this
amiable encounter.
Conrade.
And thought they, Margaret was Hero?
Borach.
Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio;—
(Watchmen preparing to advance) but the devil, my master,
knew she was Margaret: away went Claudio enraged;
(Watchmen advance softly) swore he would meet her, as
he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there,
before the whole congregation, shame her with what he
saw over-night, and send her home again without a husband.
(the Watchmen have crept cautiously forward, they spring upon Conrade and Borachio and seize them)
Sea. (R. C.)
We charge you in the prince's name stand!
Oatcake. (C.)
Call up the right master constable.
Exit a Watchman, L.
We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of
lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth.
Seacoal.
And one Deformed is one of them; I know
him; he wears a lock.
Conrade.
Masters, masters—
Seacoal.
You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant
you.
Conrade.
Masters—
Seacoal.
Never speak; we charge you, let us obey you
to go with us.
Exeunt, L. with Prisoners in custody.
Scene IV.—A Hall in Leonato's House. (2nd grooves.)Enter Leonato, Dogberry, and Verges, R.
Leon. (L.)
What would you with me, honest neighbour?
Dogb. (C.)
Marry, sir, I would have some confidence
with you, that discerns you nearly.
Leon.
Brief, I pray you; for you see 'tis a busy time
with me.
Dogb.
Marry, this it is, sir!
they say, when the age is in, the wit is out;—heaven help
-- 37 --
Verges. (C.)
Yes, in truth it is, sir!
Leon.
What is it, my good friends?
Dogb.
Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the
matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as
heaven help, I would desire they were! but, in faith,
honest as the skin between his brows.
Verges.
Yes, I thank heaven, I am as honest as any
man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I.
Dogb.
Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour
Verges.
Leon.
Neighbours, you are tedious.
Dogb.
It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the
poor duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I
were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to
bestow it all of your worship.
Leon.
All thy tediousness on me, ha?
Dogb.
Yea, and 'twere a thousand pounds more than 'tis;
for I hear as good exclamation on your worship, as of any
man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am
glad to hear it.
Verges.
And so am I.
Leon.
I would fain know what you have to say.
Verges.
Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your
worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves
as any in Messina.
Dogb.
A good old man, sir;—he will be talking—as
they say, when the age is in, the wit is out;—heaven help
us! it is a world to see! Well said, i'faith, neighbour
Verges!—An' two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind:
—An honest soul, i'faith, sir! by my troth, he is, as
ever broke bread! but, heaven is to be worshipped—All
men are not alike, alas, good neighbour!
Leon.
Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.
Dogb.
Gifts, that heaven gives.
Leon.
I must leave you. (crossing to R.)
Dogb.
One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have, indeed,
comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have
them this morning examined before your worship.
Leon.
Take their examination yourself, and bring it me;
I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.
Dogb.
It shall be suffigance.
-- 38 --
Leon.
Drink some wine ere you go.—Fare you well!
Exit, R.
Dogb.
Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoal,
bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol; we are
now to examination these men.
Verges.
And we must do it wisely.
Dogb.
We will spare for no wit, I warrant you: here's
that (touching his forehead) shall drive some of them to
a non-com: only get the learned writer to set down our
excommunication, and meet me at the gaol.
Exeunt, L.END OF ACT III.ACT IV.Scene I.—A Chapel.—(Organ as the Curtain rises)Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, Beatrice, Bridesmaids, and Gentlemen, discovered.
[unresolved image link]
Leon. (R. C.)
Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the
plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular
duties afterwards.
Friar. (C.)
You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?
Claud. (L. C.)
No!
Leon.
To be married to her, Friar; you come to marry
her.
Friar.
Lady, you come hither to be married to this
Count?
Hero. (R. C.)
I do.
Friar.
If either of you know any inward impediment,
why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your
souls to utter it.
Claud.
Know you any, Hero?
Hero.
None, my lord.
Friar.
Know you any, Count?
-- 39 --
Leon.
I dare make his answer, none.
Claud.
Oh! what men dare do! what men may do!
what men daily do, not knowing what they do!
Bened. (L.)
How now? Interjections?
Claud.
Stand thee by, Friar: Father, by your leave;
Will you, with free and unconstrained soul,
Give me this maid, your daughter?
Leon.
As freely, son, as Heaven did give her me. (passing her across to C.)
Claud.
And what have I to give you back, whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
Pedro. (L. C.)
Nothing, unless you render her again.
Claud.
Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness:
There, Leonato, take her back again:
(passing her back)
She's but the sign and semblance of her honour.—
Behold, now like a maid she blushes here!
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
Leon. (L. C.)
What do you mean, my lord?
Claud.
Not to be married,
Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton—
Leon.
Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,
Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth—
Claudio.
No, Leonato,
I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to a sister, showed
Bashful sincerity, and comely love.
Hero.
And seem'd I ever otherwise to you?
Claudio.
Out on thy seeming! I will write against it;
You seem to me, as Dian in her orb;
As chaste, as is the bud ere it be blown;
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals,
That rage in savage sensuality.
Hero.
Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wild?
Leon.
Sweet Prince, why speak not you?
Don P.
What should I speak
I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a wanton here.
Leon.
Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
-- 40 --
Don John.
Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
Hero.
True, O heaven!
Claudio.
Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother?
Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own?
Leon.
All this is so; but what of this, my lord:
Claudio.
Let me but move one question to your daughter,
And, by that fatherly and kindly power
That you have in her, bid her answer truly.
Leon.
I charge thee do so as thou art my child!
Hero.
O heav'n defend me! how am I beset!—
What kind of catechizing call you this?
Claudio.
To make you answer truly to your name.
Hero.
Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
With any just reproach?
Claudio.
Marry, that can Hero;
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.
What man was he, talk'd with you yesternight,
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
Hero.
I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord,
Don P.
Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear:—upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved Count,
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window;
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.
Don John.
Fie, fie! they are
Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of;
There is not chastity enough in language.
Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.
Claudio.
O Hero, what a hero hadst thou been,
If half thy outward graces had been placed
About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell!
Thou pure impiety and impious purity!
For thee, I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang,
-- 41 --
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.
Exeunt Claudio, Don Pedro, Don John, and Gentlemen, L.
Leon. (R.)
Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? (Hero swoons, and falls, C.
Beat.
Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink you down?
Leon.
O fate, take not away thy heavy hand!
Death is the fairest cover for her shame,
That may be wish'd for.
Beat.
How now, cousin Hero?
Friar. (advancing to C.)
Have comfort, lady. (Hero revives)
Leon.
Dost thou look up?
Friar.
Yea; wherefore should she not?
Leon.
Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story, that is printed in her blood!
Do not live, Hero: do not ope thine eyes;
For did I think, thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I, thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
Myself, would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that, at frugal nature's frame?* note
O, one too much by thee! O, she is fallen
Into a pit of ink! that the wide sea
Hath drops too few, to wash her clean again! (crosses, L.)
Bened. (R. C.)
Sir, sir, be patient!
For my part, I am so attired in wonder,
I know not what to say.
Beatrice. (C.)
O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!
Bened.
Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beatrice.
No, truly not; although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
Leon.
Confirm'd, confirm'd! Oh, that is stronger made,
-- 42 --
Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron?
Would the two Princes lie? and Claudio lie?
Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die!
(crosses, R.)
Friar. (L. C.)
Hear me a little;
For I have only silent been so long
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady; I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness, beat away those blushes.
Call me a fool; trust not my age,
My reverend calling, nor divinity,* note
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here,
Under some biting error.
Leon.
Friar, it cannot be:
Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left,
Is, that she will not add to her damnation,
A sin of perjury: she not denies it:
Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
That, which appears in proper nakedness?
Friar.
Lady, what man is he you are accused of?
Hero.
They know, that do accuse me: I know none.
If I know more of any man alive,
Than that, which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy! (kneels) O my father,
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.
Friar.
There is some strange misprison in the Princes.
Bened. (L.)
Two of them have the very bent of honor;
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.
Leon. (R.)
I know not. If they speak but truth of her.
The hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
-- 43 --
Friar.
Pause a while,
And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter, here, the princes left for dead;
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed.
Leon.
What shall become of this? What will this do?
Friar.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accused,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd
Of every hearer:—So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear, she died upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
Than when she liv'd indeed:—then shall he mourn,
And wish he had not so accused her;—
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not, but success
Will fashion the event in better shape,
Than I can lay it down, in likelihood.
Bened.
Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you:
And though you know, my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honor, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly, as your soul
Should with your body.
Leon.
Being that I flow in grief,
The smallest twine may lead me.
Friar.
'Tis well consented; presently away;
Come, lady, die to live; this wedding day,
Perhaps, is but prolong'd; have patience and endure. Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice, R.
Bened. (R. C.)
Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this
while?
Beatrice. (C.)
Yea, and I will weep awhile longer.
Bened. (advances to her)
I will not desire that.
Beat.
You have no reason: I do it freely.
Bened.
Surely, I do believe you fair cousin is wronged.
-- 44 --
Beat.
Ah, how much might the man deserve of me,
that would right her.
Bened.
Is there any way to show such friendship?
Beat.
A very even way, but no such friend.
Bened.
May a man do it?
Beae.
It is a man's office, but not yours.
Bened. (pausing)
I do love nothing in the world so
well as you. Is not that strange?
Beat.
As strange as the thing I know not. It were as
possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you:
but, believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing,
nor I deny nothing:—I am sorry for my cousin.
Bened.
By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me!
Beat.
Do not swear by it, and eat it.
Bened.
I will swear by it, that you love me; and I will
make him eat it, that says I love not you.
Beat.
Will you not eat your word?
Bened.
With no sauce that can be devised to it: I protest
I love thee!
Beat.
Why, then, heaven forgive me!
Bened.
What offence, sweet Beatrice?
Beat.
You have stay'd me in an happy hour; I was
about to protest I loved you.
Bened.
And do it, with all thy heart!
Beat.
I love you with so much of my heart, that none
is left to protest.
Bened.
Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Beat.
Kill Claudio. (falling on his neck)
Bened.
Ha! not for the wide world!
Beat.
You kill me to deny it:—farewell!
(crossing, R.)
Bened.
Tarry, sweet Beatrice!
taking her L. hand)
Beat.
I am gone, though I am here:—there is no love
in you:—Nay, I pray you, let me go.
Bened.
Beatrice—
Beat.
In faith, I will go!
Bened.
We'll be friends first.
Beat.
You dare easier be friends with me, than fight
with mine enemy.
Bened.
Is Claudio thine enemy?
Beat.
Is he not approved in the height a villain, that
hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman?—
-- 45 --
Oh, that I were a man!—(crosses, L.) What! bear her
in hand until they come to take hands, and then, with
public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour.
—O heaven, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in
the market-place. (crosses, R.)
Bened.
Hear me, Beatrice. (following her)
Beat.
Talk with a man out at a window?—a proper
saying! (crosses, L.)
Bened.
Nay, but Beatrice—
Beat.
Sweet Hero!—she is wronged, she is slandered,
she is undone! (crosses, R.)
Bened.
Beat—
Beat.
Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony,
a goodly count confect, a sweet gallant, surely!
O that I were a man for his sake! (crosses, L.) or that I
had any friend, would be a man for my sake! But manhood
is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and
men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is
now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears
it.—I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a
woman with grieving. (crosses, R.)
Bened.
Tarry, good Beatrice:—By this hand I love
thee!
Beat.
Use it for my love, some other way than
swearing by it.
Bened.
Think you in your soul, the Count Claudio
hath wronged Hero?
Beat.
Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul!
Bened.
Enough! I am engaged; I will challenge him.
Beat.
Will you?
Bened.
Upon my soul I will. I'll kiss your hand, and
so leave you. By this hand Claudio shall render me a
dear account.
Beat.
You'll be sure to challenge him?
Bened.
By those bright eyes I will.
Beat.
My dear friend! kiss my hand again.
Bened.
As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort
your cousin: I must say she is dead; and so farewell.
Beat.
Benedick, kill him, kill him dead, if you can.
Bened.
As sure as he is alive, I will!
Exeunt Beatrice, R., Benedick, L.
-- 46 --
Scene II.—A Prison—doors R., and L.
Enter Dogberry, Verges, Seacoal, and Oatcake and Watchmen, L.; a table, chairs, pen, ink, and book are brought on.
Dogb.
Is our whole dissembly appeared?
Enter Sexton, L.
Verges.
O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton!
(Dogberry, Verges, and Sexton sit, C.)
Sexton.
Which be the malefactors?
Dogb.
Marry, that am I and my partner.
Verges. (R. C.)
Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibition
to examine.
Sexton. (L. C.)
But which are the offenders that are to be
examined? let them come before Master Constable. (opens
the book and preparing to write)
Dogb. (C.)
Yea, marry, let them come before me.
Enter Watch, bringing in Borachio and Conrade, R.
What is your name, friend?
Borach.
Borachio.
Dogb.
Pray write down Borachio. Yours, sirrah?
Conrade.
I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.
Dogb.
Write down master gentleman Conrade.—
Masters, do you serve heaven?
Conrade and Borach.
Yes, sir, we hope—
Dogb.
Write down, that they hope they serve heaven
—and write heaven first: for heaven defend but heaven
should go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already,
that you are little better than false knaves; and it
will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you
for yourselves.
Conrade.
Marry, sir, we say we are none.
Dogb.
A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you!—but I
will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah! a word
in your ear, sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false
knaves.
-- 47 --
Borach.
Sir, I say to you, we are none.
Dogb.
Well, stand aside—'Fore heaven, they are both
in a tale! Have you writ down, that they are none?
Sexton.
Master Constable, you go not the way to
examine; you must call forth the Watch that are their
accusers.
Dogb.
Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the
Watch stand forth:—Masters, I charge you, in the prince's
name, accuse these men!
Seacoal.
This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's
brother, was a villain.
Dogb.
Write down,—Prince John, a villain.—Why,
that is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain!
Borach.
Master Constable—
Dogb.
'Pray thee, fellow, peace!—I do not like thy
look, I promise thee.
Sexton.
What heard you him say else?
Oatcake.
Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats
of Don John, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.
Dogb.
Flat burglary, as ever was committed!
Verges.
Yea, by the mass, that it is!
Sexton.
What else, fellow?
Seacoal.
And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his
words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not
marry her.
Dogb.
O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting
redemption for this.
Sexton.
What else?
Seacoal.
This is all.
Sexton.
And this is more, masters, than you can deny.
Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away: Hero
was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused,
and, upon the grief of this, suddenly died. Master Constable,
let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato's;
I will go before, and show him their examination.
Exit, L.
Dogb. (R.)
Come, let them be opinioned.
Conrade.
Off, coxcomb!
Dogb.
Gad's my life! where's the Sexton? let him
write down the prince's officer, coxcomb. Come, bind
them. Thou naughty varlet!
Conrade and Borachio are bound singly.
-- 48 --
Conrade.
Away, you are an ass! you are an ass!
Dogb.
Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not
suspect my years? O that he were here, to write me down
an ass!—but masters, remember, that I am an ass; though
it be not written down, yet forget not, that I am an ass:—
No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved
upon thee by good witness! I am a wise fellow; and,
which is more, an officer; and, which is more, a householder;
and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh, as
any in Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; and
a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had
losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing
handsome about him.—Bring him away. O, that I had
been writ down an ass!
They exeunt, L.END OF ACT IV.ACT V.Scene I.—The Court before Leonato's House.—Same as Scene I., Act I.
Enter Leonato and Antonio, L. 3 E.
Antonio (L.)
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself;
And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief
Against yourself.
Leon. (C.)
I pray thee, cease thy counsel;
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear,
But such a one, whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,
And bid him speak of patience;—
No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience.
To those that wring under the load of sorrow;
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency,
To be so moral, when he shall endure
The like himself; therefore give me no counsel.
Antonio.
Therein do men from children nothing differ.
Leon.
I pray thee, peace; I will be flesh and blood;
For there was never yet philosopher,
-- 49 --
That could endure the tooth-ache patiently;
However they have writ the style of gods,
And made a pish at chance and sufferance.
Antonio.
Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself;
Make those, who do offend you suffer too.
Leon.
There thou speak'st reason; nay, I will do so;
My soul doth tell me, Hero is belied;
All that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince
And all of them, that thus dishonour her.
Antonio.
Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily. Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio, L., and cross to R.
Don P.
Good den, good den.
Claudio.
Good day to both of you.
Leon.
Hear you, my lords—
Don P.
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.
Don P. (R.)
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.
Antonio. (L.)
If he could right himself with quarrelling.
Some of us would lie low.
Claudio. (R. C.)
Who wrongs him?
Leon. (C.)
Marry, thon dost wrong me, thou, dissembler thou! (Claudio grasps his sword)
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword
I fear thee not.
Claudio.
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 mine innocent child, and me,
That I am forced to lay my reverence by;
And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man; (draws his sword)
I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child.
Don P.
You say not right, old man.
-- 50 --
Leon.
My lord, my lord,
I'll prove it on his body, if he dare;
Despite his nice fence, and his active practice,
His May of youth and bloom of lustyhood.
Claudio.
Away, I will not have to do with you! (cross, R.)
Leon.
Canst thou so daff me?
Antonio.
Let him answer me:
Come, follow me, boy; come, sir, boy, come follow me;
(crosses, R.)
Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will!
Leon. (crosses, R. C.)
Brother—
Antonio.
Content yourself. Heaven knows, I lov'd my neice,
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 Antony—
Antonio.
Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea,
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple;
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys,
That lie, 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.
Leon.
But, brother Antony—
Antonio.
Come, 'tis no matter;
Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.
Don P. (L. C.)
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—
Don P.
I will not hear you. (crosses, R.)
Leon.
No?
Come brother, away.—I will be heard!
Antonio.
And shall,
Or some of us will smart for it. Exeunt Leonato and Antonio, L. 3 E.
-- 51 --
Don P.
See, see,
Here comes the man we went to seek! Enter Benedick, L.
Claudio. (C.)
Now, signior, what news?
Bened. (L.)
Good day, my lord.
Don P.
Welcome, signior! You are almost come to
part almost a fray.
Claudio.
We had like to have had our two noses snapped
off, with two old men without teeth.
Don P.
Leonato and his brother. What think'st thou?
Had we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young
for them.
Bened.
In a false quarrel, there is no true valour. I
came to seek you both.
Claudio.
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?
Bened. (L. C.)
It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it?
Don P.
Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
Claudio.
Never any did so, though very many have
been beside their wit.
Don P.
As I am an honest man, he looks pale.—Art
thou sick, or angry?
Claudio.
What! courage, man! What, though care
killed a cat, thou hast metal enough in thee to kill care.
Bened.
Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an'
you charge it against me;—I pray you, chuse another subject.
I don't like it.
Don P.
By this light, he changes more and more! I
think, he be angry, indeed!
Claudio.
If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
Bened.
Shall I speak a word in your ear?
Claudio.
Heaven bless me from a challenge! (they go, L.)
Bened.
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 cowardice.
You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall
heavy upon you! Let me hear from you.
Claudio.
Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.
Don P.
What, a feast, a feast!
-- 52 --
Claudio.
I'faith, I thank him, he hath bid me to a
calf's-head and a capon; the which, if I do not carve most
curiously, say my knifes' naught.
Bened.
Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.
Don P. (C.)
But when shall we set the savage bull's
horns on the sensible Benedick's head?
Claudio. (R.)
Yea, and text underneath. “Here dwells
Benedick, the married man!”
Bened.
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 heaven
be thanked, hurt not!—My lord, (takes off his hat) 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 Lackbeard there, he and I
shall meet, and till then, peace be with him!
Exit, L. 3 E.
Don P.
He is in earnest.
Claudio.
In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant
you, for the love of Beatrice!
Don P.
And hath challenged thee?
Claudio.
Most sincerely!
Don P.
What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in
his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!—did he not
say, my brother was fled?
Enter Dogberry, Verges, with Conrade and Borachio bound, followed by Seacoal, Oatcake, the Sexton, who goes off, L. 3 E., and the Watch, L. 1 E.
[unresolved image link]
Dogb. (C.)
Come you, sir! if justice cannot tame you,
she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay,
and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.
Don P.
How now, two of my brother's men bound!
Borachio, one!
Claudio.
Hearken after their offence, my lord.
Don P.
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 belied a lady;
thirdly, they have verified unjust things: and, to conclude,
they are lying knaves.
-- 53 --
Don P.
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?
Claudio. (R.)
Rightly reasoned, and in his own division.
Don P.
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?
Borachio. (L. C.)
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 confessing to
this man, how Don John, your brother, incensed me to
slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the
orchard, and saw me court Margaret, in Hero's garments;
how you disgraced her, when you should marry her: my
villainy 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.
Don P. (to Claudio)
Runs not this speech like iron
through your blood?
Claudio.
I have drunk poison, whiles he uttered it.
Don P.
But did my brother set thee on to this?
Borachio.
Yea, and paid me richly for the practice
of it.
Don P.
He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery: and
fled he is upon this villainy.
Claudio.
Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear.
In the rare semblance that I loved it first.
Dogb.
Come, bring away the plaintiffs; by this time,
our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter:
and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place
shall serve, that I am an ass.
Verges.
Here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the
sexton too.
-- 54 --
Enter Leonato, Servants, and the Sexton, L. 3 E.
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?
Borachio. (L.)
If you would know your wronger, look on me.
Leon. (C.)
Art thou the slave, that, with thy breath, hast killed
Mine innocent child?
Borachio.
Yea—even I alone.
Leon.
No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself;
Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled, that had a hand in it:
(turning to Claudio and Pedro)
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.
Claudio. (R. C.)
I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak: Choose your revenge yourself;
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking.
Don. P. (R.)
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. (C.)
I cannot bid you bid my daughter live,
That were impossible; but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here,
How innocent she died;
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 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.
Claudio.
O, noble sir,
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me!
I do embrace your offer, and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.
-- 55 --
Leon.
Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell;
To-night I take my leave.
Don P.
We will not fail.
Claudio.
To-night I'll mourn with Hero. Exeunt Don P. and Claudio, R. 1 E.
Leon.
This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who, I believe, was pact in all this wrong.
Borachio.
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. (R.)
Moreover, sir, which, indeed, is not under
white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call
me an ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his
punishment. And also the Watch heard them talk of one
Deformed—pray you examine him upon that point.
Leon. (C.)
I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
Dogb.
Your worship speaks like a most thankful and
reverend youth; and I praise heaven for you!
Leon.
There's for thy pains. (giving money)
Dogb.
Heaven save the foundation!
Leon.
Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoners, and I
thank thee.
Dogb.
I leave an arrant knave with your worship;
which, I beseech your worship, to correct yourself for the
example of others. Heaven keep your worship—I wish
your worship well. Heaven restore you to health! I
humbly give you leave to depart; and, if a merry meeting
may be wished, Heaven prohibit it! Come, neighbour.
Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, the Sexton, Seacoal, Oatcake, and the Watch, L.
Leon. (to Servants)
Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. Exeunt, L. 3 E.Scene II.—A Hall in Leonato's House, L.Enter Benedick, L., and Margaret, R.
Bened.
'Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve
well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.
-- 56 --
Marg.
Will you, then, write me a sonnet in praise
of my beauty?
Bened.
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 below stairs?
Bened.
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.
Bened.
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, who I think
hath legs.
Exit, R.
Bened.
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 panders, 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 turned over
and over, as my poor self, in love. Marry, I cannot
show it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhyme
to “lady” but “baby,” an innocent rhyme; for “school,”
“fool,” a babbling rhyme; for “scorn,” “horn,” a hard
rhyme, very ominous endings! No, I was not born under
a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.—
Enter Beatrice, R.
Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?
Beatrice. (R. C.)
Yea, signior, and depart when you
bid me.
Bened.
O, stay but till then!
Beatrice.
“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.
-- 57 --
Bened.
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?
Beatrice.
For them altogether; which maintained 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?
Bened.
Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love,
indeed, for I love thee against my will.
Beatrice.
In spite of your heart, I think! alas! poor
heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for
yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.
Bened.
Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
Beatrice.
It appears not in this confession; there's not
one wise man among twenty that will praise himself.
Bened.
An old, an old instance.—Beatrice, that lived
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 monument, than the bell rings and the widow weeps.
Beatrice.
And how long is that, think you?
Bened.
Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in
rheum; 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 myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself
will bear witness, is praise-worthy. And now tell me,
how doth your cousin?
Beatrice.
Very ill.
Bened.
And how do you?
Beatrice.
Very ill too.
Bened.
Serve heaven, love me, and mend.
Here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula, R.
Ursula.
Madam, you must come to your uncle; it is
proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the
Prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is
the author of all, who is fled and gone.
Exit Ursula, R.
Beatrice.
Will you go hear this news, signior?
-- 58 --
Bened.
I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be
buried in thy heart; and, moreover, I will go with thee
to thy uncle.
Exeunt, R.Scene III.—A Room in Leonato's House.Leonato, Hero, Friar, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Ursula, and other Ladies, discovered.
Friar. (L. C.)
Did not I tell you she was innocent?
Leon. (L.)
So are the Prince and Claudio, who accused her,
Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears.
Antonio. (C.)
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
Bened. (R. C.)
And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
Leon. (to the Ladies who stand, R.)
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 promised by this hour
To visit me.
Exeunt Beatrice, Hero, and all the Ladies, R.
You know your office, brother;
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.
Antonio.
Which I will do with a confirm'd countenance.
Bened.
Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.
Friar.
To do what, Signior?
Bened.
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.
Bened.
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?
Bened.
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:
But, for my will, my will is, your good-will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined
-- 59 --
In the estate of honourable marriage;—
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon.
My heart is with your liking.
Friar.
And my help.
Here come the Prince and Claudio. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants, L.
Don P.
Good-morrow to this fair assembly.
Leon.
We here attend you: are you yet determined
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?
Claudio.
I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiop.
Leon.
Call her forth, brother: here's the friar ready. Exit Antonio, R.
Don P.
Good-morrow, Benedick: why, what's the matter.
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?
Claudio.
I think, he thinks upon the savage bull:—
Tush! fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lusty Jove.
When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bened. (L.)
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.
Oh, here they come! Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Ursula, and other Ladies, masked, R.
Claudio.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
Antonio. (R.)
This same is she, and I do give you her. (presenting Hero)
Claudio.
Why then she is mine: Sweet, let me see your face.
Leon. (L. C.)
No, that you shall not, till you take her hand
Before this friar, and swear to marry her.
Claudio.
Give me your hand before this holy friar;
I am your husband, if you like of me.
Hero.
And when I lived, I was your other wife;
(unmasking)
And when you loved, you were my other husband.
-- 60 --
Claudio.
Another Hero?
Hero.
Nothing certainer:
One Hero died defiled, but I do live,
And, surely as I live, I am innocent.
Don P.
The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!
Leon.
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.
Friar.
All this amazement can I qualify;
When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:
Meantime, let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.
Bened. (L. C.)
Soft and fair, Friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beatrice. (R. C.)
I answer to that name.
(Beatrice and the other Ladies unmask, and all go up)
What is your will?
Bened.
Do not you love me?
Beatrice.
Why, no; no more than reason.
Bened.
Why, then, your uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio,
Have been deceived—they swore you did.
Beatrice.
Do not you love me?
Bened.
Troth, no; no more than reason.
Beatrice.
Why, then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula,
Are much deceiv'd, for they did swear you did.
Bened.
They swore that you were almost sick for me.
Beatrice.
They swore that you were well nigh dead for me.
Bened.
'Tis no such matter:—Then, you do not love me!
Beatrice.
No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
Leon. (R.)
Come, cousin. I am sure you love the gentleman.
Claudio. (L.)
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,
Fashioned to Beatrice. (gives the paper to Beatrice)
Hero.
And here's another,
Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick. (gives the paper to Benedick, and returns to R. of Claudio)
-- 61 --
Bened.
A miracle!—here's our own hands against our
hearts! Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I
take thee for pity.
Beatrice.
I would not deny you;—but, by this good
day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to save
your life; for I was told you were in a consumption.
Bened.
Peace, I will stop your mouth.
Don P. (L. C.)
How dost thou, Benedick, the married
man? (all laugh)
Bened. (C.)
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.
Enter Officer, L.
Officer.
My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
And brought with armed men back to Messina.
Don P.
I think not on him till to-morrow; I'll devise
brave punishments for him.
Exit Officer, L.
Bened.
Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but
in that thou art like to be my kinsman; live unbruised,
and love my cousin.
Claudio. (R. C.)
I had well hoped thou would'st have
denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled 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 narrowly
to thee.
Bened.
Come, come, we are friends. Prince, thou
art sad.
Don P.
Yes, I've got the tooth-ache.
Bened.
Got the tooth-ache! Get thee a wife; and all
will be well. (all laugh) Nay, laugh not, laugh not.
Your gibes and mockeries I laugh to scorn:
No staff more rev'rend than one tipt with horn. [unresolved image link]Curtain.
