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.
