SCENE I.
A Hall in Leonato's House.
Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, and Others.
Leo.
Was not count John here at supper?
Ant.
I saw him not.
-- 17 --
Bea.
How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can
see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after.
Her.
He is of a very melancholy disposition.
Bea.
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.
Leo.
Then half signior Benedick's tongue in count
John's mouth, and half count John's melancholy in
signior Benedick's face,—
Bea.
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.
Leo.
By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a
husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
Ant.
In faith, she's too curst.
Bea.
Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen
God's sending that way: for it is said, God sends a
curst cow short horns; but to a cow too curst he sends
none.
Leo.
So, by being too curst, God will send you no
horns.
Bea.
Just, if he send me no husband; for the which
blessing, I am at him upon my knees every morning
and evening: Lord! I could not endure a husband
with a beard on his face; I had rather lye in the
woollen.
Leo.
You may light upon a note husband that hath no
beard.
Bea.
What should I do with him? dress him in my
apparel, and make him my waiting gentlewoman?
-- 18 --
He that hath a beard, is more than a youth; and he
that hath no beard, is less than a man: and he that is
more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is less
than a man, I am not for him: Therefore, I will even
take sixpence in earnest of the bearherd, and lead his
apes into hell.14Q0159
Leo.
Well then, go you into hell.
Bea.
No, but to the gate: and there will the devil
meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head,
and say, Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven,
here's no place for you maids: so deliver I up my apes,
and away to saint Peter for the heavens; he shews me
where the batchelors sit, and there live we as merry
as the day is long.
Ant.
Well, niece, [to Hero.] I trust you will be
rul'd by your father.
Bea.
Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make a
court'sy, and say, Father, as it please you:—but yet for
all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else
make another court'sy, and say, Father, as it please me. note
Leo.
Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted
with a husband.
Bea.
Not 'till God make men of some other metal
than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd
with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account note
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.
Leo.
Daughter, remember what I told you: if the
prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your
answer.
Bea.
The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if
-- 19 --
you be not woo'd in good time: if the prince be too
important, tell him, there is measure in every thing,
and so dance out the answer. For hear me note, Hero,
Wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scoth note 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 ancientry; and then comes repentance, and, with
his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster,
'till he sink into note his grave.
Leo.
Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Bea.
I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church
by day-light.
Leo.
The revelers are entring; brother, make good
room.
[Leonato and his Company mask.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar,
Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula,
and Others, mask'd.
D. Pe.
Lady, will you walk about with your friend?
Her.
So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and
say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and, especially,
when I walk away.
D. Pe.
With me in your company.
Her.
I may say so, when I please.
D. Pe.
And when please you to say so?
Her.
When I like your favour; for God defend,
the lute should be like the case!
D. Pe.
My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house
is Jove. note14Q0160
Her.
Why, then your visor should be thatch'd.
D. Pe.
Speak low, if you speak love.
[drawing her aside.
-- 20 --
Ben.
Well, I would you did like me.
Mar.
So would not I, for your own sake! for I
have many ill qualities.
Ben.
Which is one?
Mar.
I say my prayers aloud.
Ben.
I love you the better; the hearers may cry,
amen.
[turning off in Quest of another.
Mar.
God match me with a good dancer!
Bal.
Amen.
Mar.
And God keep him out of my sight, when
the dance is done!—Answer, clerk.
Bal.
No more words; the clerk is answered.
[parting different Ways.
Urs.
I know you well enough; you are signior Antonio.
Ant.
At a word, I am not.
Urs.
I know you by the wagling of your head.
Ant.
To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
Urs.
You could never do him so ill well, unless you
were the very man: Here's his dry hand up and down;
you are he, you are he.
Ant.
At a word, I am not.
Urs.
Come, come; do you think I do not know
you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself?
Go to, mum, you are he: graces will appear, and
there's an end.
[mixing with the Company.
Bea.
Will you not tell me who told you so?
Ben.
No, you shall pardon me.
Bea.
Nor will you not tell note me who you are?
Ben.
Not now.
Bea.
That I was disdainful,—and that I had my
good wit out of the Hundred merry Tales;—Well, this
-- 21 --
was signior Benedick that said so?
Ben.
What's he?
Bea. note
I am sure, you know him well enough.
Ben.
Not I, believe me.
Bea.
Did he never make you laugh?
Ben.
I pray you, what is he?
Bea.
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 villany; for he
both pleaseth men note, and angers them, and then they
laugh at him, and beat him: I am sure, he is in the
fleet; I would he had boarded me.
Ben.
When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him
what you say.
Bea.
Do, do: he'll but break a comparison, or
two, on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not
laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there's
a partridge's wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper
that night. [Musick begins: Dance forming.] We
must follow the leaders.
Ben.
In every good thing.
Bea.
Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them
at the next turning.
[Dance: and Exeunt D. Pe. and Leo. conversing; Her. Bea.
Mar. Urs. Ant. Ben. Bal. and Company.
&clquo;D. Jo.
&clquo;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.&crquo;
&clquo;Bor.
&clquo;And that is Claudio; I know him by his
bearing.&crquo;
-- 22 --
D. Jo.
Are not you signior Benedick?
Cla.
You know me well; I am he.
D. Jo.
Signior, you are very near my brother in his
love: he is enamour'd on Hero; I pray you, dissuade
him from her, she is no equal for his birth: you may
do the part of an honest man in it.
Cla.
How know you he loves her?
D. Jo.
I heard him swear his affection.
Bor.
So did I too; and he swore note he would marry
her to-night.
D. Jo.
Come, let us to the banquet.
[Exeunt D. John, and Borachio.
Cla.
Thus answer I in name of Benedick,
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.—
'Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Save in the office and affairs of love:
Therefore, all hearts14Q0161 in love use their own note 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: Farewel therefore, Hero!
Re-enter Benedick.
Ben.
Count Claudio?
Cla.
Yea, the same.
Ben.
Come, will you go with me?
Cla.
Whither?
Ben.
Even to the next willow, about your own
business, count. note 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
-- 23 --
must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your
Hero.
Cla.
I wish him joy of her.
Ben.
Why, that's spoken like an honest drover;
so they sell bullocks. But did you think, the prince
would have serv'd you thus?
Cla.
I pray you, leave me.
Ben.
Ho! now you note strike like the blind man;
'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the
post.
Cla.
If it will not be, I'll leave you.
[Exit Claudio.
Ben.
Alas, poor hurt fowl! note 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 note;14Q0162 (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, Hero, and Leonato.
D. Pe.
Now, signior? where's the count? Did you
see him?
Ben.
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, I told
him note true, that your grace had got the good note 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 up note a rod, as being worthy to
be whipt.
-- 24 --
D. Pe.
To be whipt! What's his fault?
Ben.
The flat transgression of a school-boy; who
being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his
companion, and he steals it.
D. Pe.
Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The
transgession is in the stealer.
Ben.
Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been
made, and the garland too: for the garland he might
have worn himself; and the rod he might have bestowed
on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n his birds'
nest.
D. Pe.
I will but teach them to sing, and restore them
to the owner.
Ben.
If their singing answer your saying, by my
faith, you say honestly.
D. Pe.
The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the
gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her, she is much
wrong'd by you.
Ben.
O, she misus'd me past the endurance of a
block; an oak, but with note one green leaf on it, would
have answered note 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; that note I was
duller than a great thaw; hudling 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, note 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 transgress'd: she
would have made Hercules have turn'd spit; yea, and
-- 25 --
have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk
not of her; you shall find her the infernal Ate in good
apparel. I would to God, some scholar would conjure
her: for, certainly, while she is here, a man may live
as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon
purpose, because they would go thither: so, indeed,
all disquiet, horror, and perturbation, follows her.
Re-enter Beatrice, and Claudio.
D. Pe.
Look, here she comes.
Ben.
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 tooth-picker 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 embássage to the pigmies, rather
than hold three words conference with this harpy: You
have no employment for me?
D. Pe.
None, but to desire your good company.
Ben.
O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot
endure this lady's tongue. note
[Exit Benedick.
D. Pe.
Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart
of signior Benedick.
Bea.
Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and
I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single note one:
marry, once before he won it of me with false dice,
therefore your grace may well say, I have lost it.
D. Pe.
You have put him down, lady, you have put
him down.
Bea.
So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest
I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought
count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.
-- 26 --
D. Pe.
Why, how now, count? wherefore are you sad?
Cla.
Not sad, my lord.
D. Pe.
How then? Sick?
Cla.
Neither, my lord.
Bea.
The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry,
nor well:—but civil, count; civil as an orange, and
something of that jealous note complexion.
D. Pe.
I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true;
though, I'll be note sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false.—
Here, Claudio, [leading him to Hero.] I have wooed in
thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her
father, and his good will obtained: name the day of
marriage, and God give thee joy!
Leo.
Count, take of me my daughter, and with
her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and
all grace say, amen, to it!
Bea.
Speak, count, 'tis your cue.
Cla.
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were
but little happy, if I could say how much.—Lady, as
you are mine, I am yours; I give away myself for
you, and doat upon the exchange.
Bea.
Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his
mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither.
D. Pe.
In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
Bea.
Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps
on the windy side of care:—My cousin tells him in
his ear, that he is in her heart. note
Cla.
And so she doth, cousin.
Bea.
Good lord, for alliance!14Q0163 Thus goes every
one to the world but I, and I am sun-burnt; I may sit
in a corner, and cry, hey ho! for a husband.
D. Pe.
Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
-- 27 --
Bea.
I would rather have one of your father's getting:
Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your
father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come
by them.
D. Pe.
Will you have me, lady?
Bea.
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.
D. Pe.
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry
best becomes you; for, out of question, you were
born in a merry hour.
Bea.
No, sure, my lord; my mother cry'd: but
then there was a star danc'd, and under that was I
born.—Cousins, God give you joy?
Leo.
Niece, will you look to those things I told
you of?
Bea.
I cry you mercy, uncle.—By your grace's
pardon.
[Exit Beatrice.
D. Pe.
By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
Leo.
There's little of the melancholy element in
her, my lord: she is never sad, but when she sleeps;
and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter
say, she hath often dreamt of unhappiness, and wak'd
herself with laughing.
D. Pe.
She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.
Leo.
O, by no means; she mocks all her wooers
out of suit.
D. Pe.
She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leo.
O lord, my lord, if they were but a week
marry'd, they would talk themselves mad.
D. Pe.
Count note Claudio, when mean you to go to church?
-- 28 --
Cla.
To-morrow, my lord; Time goes on crutches,
'till love have all his rites.
Leo.
Not 'till monday, my dear son, which is hence
a just sevennight; and a time too brief too, to have all
things answer my mind. note
D. Pe.
Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing;
but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not
go dully by us: I will in the interim undertake one of
Hercules' 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 note fashion it, if you three will but minister
such assistance as I shall give you direction.
Leo.
My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten
nights' watchings.
Cla.
And I, my lord.
D. Pe.
And you too, gentle Hero?
Her.
I will do any modest office, my lord, to help
my cousin to a good husband.
D. Pe.
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 confirm'd
honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin,
that she shall fall in love with Benedick;—and I, with
your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in
despight of his quick wit and his queasy stomack, he
shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this,
Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be ours,
for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I
will tell you my drift.
[Exeunt.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
