Claudio.
Ant.
Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily.
Pedro.
Good den, good den.
Claud.
Good day to both of you.
Leon.
Hear you, my lords?
Pedro.
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.
Pedro.
Nay do not quatrel with us, good old man.
Ant.
If he could right himself with quarrelling,
Some of us would lye low.
Claud.
Who wrongs him?
Leon.
Marry thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler thou.
Nay never lay thy hand upon thy sword,
I fear thee not.
Claud.
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 my innocent child and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by,
And with grey hairs and bruise of many days
Do challenge thee to tryal of a man;
I say, thou hast bely'd my innocent child,
-- 545 --
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lyes bury'd with her ancestors,
O in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany!
Claud.
My villany?
Leon.
Thine Claudio, thine I say.
Pedro.
You say not right, old man.
Leon.
My lord, my lord,
I'll prove it on his body if he dare;
Despight his nice fence and his active practice,
His May of youth and bloom of lustyhood.
Claud.
Away, I will not have to do with you.
Leon.
Canst thou so † notedaffe me? thou hast kill'd my child;
If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
Ant.
He shall kill two of us, and men indeed;
But that's no matter, let him kill one first;
Win me and wear me, let him answer me;
Come, follow me, boy, come, boy, follow me,
Sir boy, I'll whip you from your ‡ notefoining fence;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.
Leon.
Brother.
Ant.
Content your self; God 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 Anthony.
Ant.
Hold you content; what, man? I know them, yea
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple:
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mongring boys,
-- 546 --
That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander,
Go antickly, and show an outward hideousness,
And speak of half a dozen dangerous words,
How they might hurt their enemies if they durst;
And this is all.
Leon.
But brother Anthony.
Ant.
Come, 'tis no matter,
Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.
Pedro.
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—
Pedro.
I will not hear you.
Leon.
No! come brother away, I will be heard.
Ant.
And shall, or some of us will smart for it.
[Exe. ambo.
SCENE III.
Enter Benedick.
Pedro.
See, see, here comes the man we went to seek.
Claud.
Now Signior, what news?
Bene.
Good day, my lord.
Pedro.
Welcome Signior; you are almost come to part almost
a fray.
Claud.
We had like to have had our two noses snapt off with
two old men without teeth.
Pedro.
Leonato and his brother; what think'st thou? had we
fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.
Bene.
In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I came to
seek you both.
-- 547 --
Claud.
We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are
high proof melancholly, and would fain have it beaten away:
wilt thou use thy wit?
Bene.
It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it?
Pedro.
Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
Claud.
Never any did so, though very many have been beside
their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels;
draw to pleasure us.
Pedro.
As I am an honest man he looks pale: art thou sick
or angry?
Claud.
What! courage man: what tho'care kill'd a cat, thou
hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
Bene.
Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if you charge
it against me. I pray you chuse another subject.
Claud.
Nay, then give him another staff, this last was broke
cross.
Pedro.
By this light, he changes more and more: I think he
be angry indeed.
Claud.
If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
Bene.
Shall I speak a word in your ear?
Claud.
God bless me from a challenge!
Bene.
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 protect your cowardise. You have kill'd a sweet
lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from
you.
Claud.
Well I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.
Pedro.
What, a feast?
Claud.
I'faith I thank him, he hath bid me to a calves-head
and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say
my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too?
-- 548 --
Bene.
Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily.
Pedro.
I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other
day: I said thou hadst a fine wit; right, says she, a fine little
one; no, said I, a great wit; just, said she, a great gross one;
nay said I, a good wit; just, said she, it hurts no body; nay
said I, the gentleman is wise; certain, said she, a wise gentleman;
nay said I, he hath the tongues; that I believe, said she,
for he swore a thing to me on Monday night which he forswore
on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two tongues.
Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular virtues,
yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest
man in Italy.
Claud.
For the which she wept heartily, and said she car'd not.
Pedro.
Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, and if she did
not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly; the old man's
daughter told us all.
Claud.
All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was
hid in the garden.
Pedro.
But when shall we set the salvage bull's horns on the
sensible Benedick's head?
Claud.
Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the
married man.
Bene.
Fare you well, boy, you know my mind, I will leave
you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggards
do their blades, which God be thank'd hurt not. My
lord, 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 lack-beard there, he and I shall meet, and 'till then peace
be with him.
[Exit Benedick.
Pedro.
He is in earnest.
-- 549 --
Claud.
In most profound earnest, and I'll warrant you for the
love of Beatrice.
Pedro.
And hath challeng'd thee?
Claud.
Most sincerely.
Pedro.
What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his
doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit.
SCENE IV.
Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded.
Claud.
He is then a giant to an ape, but then is an ape a
doctor to such a man.
Pedro.
But soft you, let me see, pluck up my heart and be
sad, did he not say my brother was fled?
Dog.
Come you, Sir, if justice cannot tame you, she shall
ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, if you be a
cursing hypocrite once, you must be look'd to.
Pedro.
How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio
one!
Claud.
Hearken after their offence, my lord.
Pedro.
Officers, what offence have these men done?
Dog.
Marry, Sir, they have committed false report, moreover
they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders;
sixth and lastly, they have bely'd a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd
unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves.
Pedro.
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?
Claud.
Rightly reason'd, and in his own division; and by
my troth, there's one meaning well suited.
-- 550 --
Pedro.
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?
Bora.
Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine answer; do
you hear me, and let this Count kill me: I have deceiv'd 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 incens'd
me to slander the lady Hero, how you were brought into the
orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments, how
you disgrac'd her when you should marry her; my villany 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.
Pedro.
Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?
Claud.
I have drunk poison while he utter'd it.
Pedro.
But did my brother set thee on to this?
Bora.
Yea, paid me richly for the practice of it.
Pedro.
He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery,
And fled he is upon this villany.
Claud.
Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear
In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first.
Dog.
Come bring away the plaintiffs, by this time our sexton
hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the matter; and masters,
do not forget to specifie, when time and place shall serve, that
I am an ass.
Verg.
Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the
sexton too.
-- 551 --
SCENE V.
Enter Leonato.
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?
Bora.
If you would know your wronger, look on me.
Leon.
Art thou, art thou the slave that with thy breath
Hast kill'd mine innocent child?
Bora.
Yea, even I alone.
Leon.
No, not so villain, thou bely'st thy self;
Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled that had a hand in it:
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.
Claud.
I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak: chuse your revenge your self,
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking.
Pedro.
By my soul nor I;
And yet to satisfie this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he'll enjoyn me to.
Leon.
You cannot bid my daughter live again,
That were impossible; but I pray you both
Possess the People in Messina here
How innocent she dy'd; and if your love
-- 552 --
Can labour ought in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night:
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 the 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.
Claud.
O noble Sir!
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me:
I do embrace your offer, and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.
Leon.
To-morrow then I will expect your coming,
To-night I take my leave. This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong,
Hir'd to it by your brother.
Bora.
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.
Dog.
Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black,
this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass; I beseech you
let it be remembred in his punishment; and also the watch heard
them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his
ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's
name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that
now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's
sake. Pray you examine him upon that point.
-- 553 --
Leon.
I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
Dog.
Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend
youth; and I praise God for you.
Leon.
There's for thy pains.
Dog.
God save the foundation.
Leon.
Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner; and I thank
thee.
Dog.
I leave an errant knave with your worship, which I
beseech your worship to correct your self, for the example of
others. God keep your worship; I wish your worship well:
God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart;
and if a merry meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. Come
neighbour.
[Exeunt.
Leon.
Until to-morrow morning, Lords farewel.
Ant.
Farewel my Lords, we look for you to-morrow.
Pedro.
We will not fail.
Claud.
To-night I'll mourn with Hero.
Leon.
Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Leonato's House.
Enter Benedick and Margaret.
Bene.
Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well
at my hands, by helping me to the speech of
Beatrice.
Marg.
Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my
beauty?
-- 554 --
Bene.
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?
Bene.
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.
Bene.
A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman;
and so I pray thee call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers.
Marg.
Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own.
Bene.
If you use them Margaret, you must put in the pikes
with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids.
Marg.
Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath
legs.
[Exit Margaret.
Bene.
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 pandars, 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
turn'd over and over, as my poor self in love; marry I cannot
shew it in rhime; I have try'd, I can find out no rhime to lady
but bady, an innocents rhime; for scorn, horn, a hard rhime;
for school, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I
was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival
terms.
-- 555 --
SCENE VII.
Enter Beatrice.
Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee?
Beat.
Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me.
Bene.
O stay but 'till then.
Beat.
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.
Bene.
Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee.
Beat.
Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul
breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist.
Bene.
Thou hast frighted the word out of its right sense, so
forcible is thy wit; but I must tell thee plainly, 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?
Beat.
For them all together, which maintain'd so politick
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?
Bene.
Suffer love! a good epithet; I do suffer love indeed,
for I love thee against my will.
Beat.
In spight of your heart, I think; alas poor heart, if
you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will
never love that which my friend hates.
Bene.
Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
Beat.
It appears not in this confession; there's not one wise
man among twenty that will praise himself.
-- 556 --
Bene.
An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd 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 monuments,
than the bells ring, and the widow weeps.
Beat.
And how long is that, think you?
Bene.
Question? why an hour in clamour, and a quarter in
rhewm; 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 my self; so much for
praising my self; who I my self will bear witness is praise-worthy;
and now tell me how doth your cousin?
Beat.
Very ill.
Bene.
And how do you?
Beat.
Very ill too.
Enter Ursula.
Bene.
Serve God, love me and mend; there will I leave you
too, for here comes one in haste.
Ursu.
Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old
coil at home; it is proved my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd,
the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John
is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently?
Beat.
Will you go hear this news, Signior?
Bene.
I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be bury'd
in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle.
[Exeunt.
-- 557 --
SCENE VIII.
A Church.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers.
Claud.
Is this the monument of Leonato?
Atten.
It is, my lord.
EPITAPH.
Done to death by slanderous tongues,
Was the Hero that here lyes:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life that dy'd with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb.
Claud.
Now musick sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
SONG.
Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Those that slew the virgin knight;
For the which with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight assist our moan,
Help us to sigh and groan.
Heavily, heavily.
-- 558 --
Graves yawn and yield your dead,
'Till death be uttered,
Heavenly, heavenly.
Claud.
Now unto thy bones good night;
Yearly will I do this rite.
Pedro.
Good morrow masters, put your torches out,
The wolves have prey'd; and look the gentle day
Before the wheels of Phœbus, round about
Dapples the drowsie east with spots of grey.
Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well.
Claud.
Good morrow masters; each his several way.
Pedro.
Come let us hence, and put on other weeds,
And then to Leonato's we will go.
Claud.
And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds
Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
Leonato's House.
Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.
Friar.
Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Leon.
So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her,
Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will as it appears,
In the true course of all the question.
-- 559 --
Ant.
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
Bene.
And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
Leon.
Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by your selves,
And when I send for you come hither mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To visit me; you know your office brother,
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.
[Exeunt Ladies.
Ant.
Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.
Bene.
Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think.
Friar.
To do what, Signior?
Bene.
To bind me or undo me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,
Your neice regards me with an eye of favour.
Ant.
That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true.
Bene.
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?
Bene.
Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical;
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
I'th' state of honourable marriage,
In which, good Friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon.
My heart is with your liking.
Friar.
And my help.
SCENE X.
Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with Attendants.
Pedro.
Good morrow to this fair assembly.
-- 560 --
Leon.
Good morrow, Prince, good morrow Claudio,
We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?
Claud.
I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
Leon.
Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready.
Pedro.
Good morrow, Benedick; why what's the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?
Claud.
I think he thinks upon the savage bull:
Tush, fear not man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee,
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bene.
Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow,
And got a calf in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
SCENE XI.
Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula.
Claud.
For this I owe you; here come other recknings.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
Leon.
This same is she, and I do give you her.
Claud.
Why then she's mine; sweet, let me see your face.
Leon.
No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand
Before this Friar, and swear to marry her.
Claud.
Give me your hand; before this holy Friar,
I am your husband if you like of me.
Hero.
And when I liv'd I was your other wife.
[Unmasking.
And when you lov'd you were my other husband.
-- 561 --
Claud.
Another Hero?
Hero.
Nothing certainer.
One Hero dy'd, but I do live;
And surely as I live I am a maid.
Pedro.
The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
Leon.
She dy'd my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.
Friar.
All this amazement can I qualifie.
When after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chappel let us presently.
Bene.
Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat.
I answer to that name, what is your will?
Bene.
Do not you love me?
Beat.
Why, no; no more than reason.
Bene.
Why then your uncle and the prince, and Claudio
have been deceiv'd, they swore you did.
Beat.
Do not you love me?
Bene.
Troth no, no more than reason.
Beat.
Why, then my cousin, Margaret and Ursula
Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did.
Bene.
They swore you were almost sick for me.
Beat.
They swore you were well-nigh dead for me.
Bene.
'Tis no matter, then you do not love me?
Beat.
No truly, but in friendly recompence.
Leon.
Come cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
Claud.
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,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.
Hero.
And here's another,
-- 562 --
Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick.
Bene.
A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts;
come I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity.
Beat.
I would not deny you, but by this good day I yield
upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life; for as I
was told, you were in a consumption.
Leon.
Peace, I will stop your mouth.
Pedro.
How dost thou, Benedick the married man?
Bene.
I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of witt-crackers
cannot flout me out of my humour: dost thou think I care for
a satyr, 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; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten
thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd,
and love my cousin.
Claud.
I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that
I might have cudgell'd 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 exceeding narrowly to thee.
Bene.
Come, come, we are friends; let's have a dance ere we
are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives
heels.
Leon.
We'll have dancing afterwards.
Bene.
First, o' my word; therefore play musick. Prince,
thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no
staff more reverend than one tipt with horn.
-- 563 --
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
And brought with armed men back to Messina.
Bene.
Think not on him 'till to-morrow, I'll devise thee
brave punishments for him. Strike up pipers.
[Dance.
[Exeunt omnes.
