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.
Charles Kean [1858], [Much Ado About Nothing. A Comedy, in five acts. By William Shakespeare, in] Lacy's acting edition of plays, dramas, farces, extravaganzas, etc. etc. as performed at the various theatres. Volume 35 containing Love Knot. Much Ado About Nothing. Ticklish Times. A Lucky Hit. Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady. Double Dummy. Spectre Bridegroom. Birthplace Of Podgers. Crossing The Line. Children of the Castle. Nothing Venture Nothing Win. Fra Diavolo (Burlesque). Margaret Catchpole. My Wife's Dentist. Schoolfellows. (Thomas Hailes Lacy [etc.], London) [word count] [S40500].
