than you take pains to thank me; if it had been | But nature never fram'd a woman's heart painful, I would not have come. Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice: Bene. You take pleasure then in the message? Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon Misprising what they look on; and her wit a knife's point, and choke a daw withal:-You Values itself so highly, that to her have no stomach, signior; fare you well. [Exit. All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Bene. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you Nor take no shape nor project of affection, come to dinner-there's a double meaning in that. She is so self-endeared." I took no more pains for those thanks than you took Urs. Sure, I think so; pains to thank me-that's as much as to say, Any! And therefore, certainly, it were not good pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks: She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. -If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain;| Hero. Why, you speak truth: I never yet saw if I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go get man, her picture. Art Third. [Exit. SCENE I. Leonato's Garden. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parThere shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice [lour; Proposing with the Prince and Claudio: 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 pleached bower, Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter;-like favourites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it:-there will she hide her, To listen our propose: This is thy office, For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Fear you not my part of the dialogue. [nothing Urs. But are you sure, Urs. And did they bid you tell her ofit, madam? Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Hero, O God of love! I know he doth deserve How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment (Having so swift and excellent a wit, As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick. Hero. He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, Goes foremost in report, through Italy. Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had When are you married, madam? [it.Hero. Why, every day-to-morrow: Come, go in; [counsel, I'll show thee some attires; and have thy Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. Urs. She's lim'd I warrant you; we have caught her, madam. Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with t aps. [Exeunt HERO and URSULA. BEATRICE advances. Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? [much? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so 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; SCENE II. A Room in Leonato's House. Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LEONATO. D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. a D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show 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 bowstring, 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. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. D. Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love: if he be sad, he wants money. Bene. I have the tooth-ache. [afterwards. Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it D. Pedro. What, sigh for the tooth-ache? Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm? Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day;| a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once; as, a German from the waist downward, all slops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is. Claud. 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? D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's? Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls. Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard. D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet: Can you smell him out by that? Claud. That's as much as to say, The sweet youth's in love. D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. [face? Claud. And when was he wont to wash his D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him. Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops. D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: Conclude, conclude, he is in love. Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. D. Pedro. 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. D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ache. -Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear. [Exeunt BENEDICK and LEONATO. D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. 'Tis even so: Hero and Margaret have by this played their part with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. Enter DON JOHN. D. John. My lord and brother, God save you. D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak D. John. If it please you:-yet Count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of concerns D. Pedro. What's the matter? [him. D. John. Means your lordship to be married to-morrow? [TO CLAUDIO. D. Pedro. Yon know, he does. D. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. [discover it. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you D. 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! D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter? D. John. I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long a talking of,) the lady is disloyal. Claud. Who? Hero? D. John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. Claud. Disloyal? D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamberwindow 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? D. 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 any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow; in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. D. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. D. John. I will disparage her no farther, till SCENE III. A Street. Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. Dogh. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince's watch. Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. Verg. "Tis very true 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. Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that, I think, he cannot. Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any Dogb. First, who think you the most desart-man that knows the statues, he may stay him: less man to be constable? 1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal for they can write and read. Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. God 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. 2 Watch. Both which, master constableDogb. You have; I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God 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: This is your charge: You shall comprehend all vagrom men: you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's name. 2 Watch. How if he 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 God you are rid of a knave, Verg. 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. 2 Watch. 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. 2 Watch. 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 2 Watch. Well, sir. [took them for. 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. 2 Watch. 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. Verg. 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. Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Dogb. Why then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baas, will never answer a calf when it bleats. 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. Verg. By'r lady, I think, it be so. Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and good night.-Come, neighbour. 2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed. 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. Enter BORACHIO and CONRADE. Bora. What! Conrade,- [Aside. Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. Bora. Mass, and my elbow itch'd; I thought, there would a scab follow. Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy tale. Bora. Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch. [Aside.] Some treason, masters; yet stand close. bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. [so dear? Cox. Is it possible that any villany should be Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were possible any villany should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. Con. I wonder at it. Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed: Thon knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. Con. Yes, it is apparel. Bora. I mean, the fashion. Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Bora. Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thier this fashion is ? Watch. I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief this seven year; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? Con. No; 'twas the vane on the house. Bora. 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? sometime, fashioning them like Pharoah's soldiers in the reechy painting; sometime, like god Bel's priests in the old church window; sometime, like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry. where his cod-piece seems as massy as his club? Con. All this I see; and see, that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man: But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion. Bora. Not so neither: but know, that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gen- None, I think, an it be the right husband, and tlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me the right wife; otherwise 'tis light, and not out at her mistress' chamber-window, bids me heavy: Ask my lady Beatrice else, here she a thousand times good night,-I tell this tale comes. 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. Con. And thought they, Margaret was Hero? Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; 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. [stand. 1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable: We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. 1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock. Con. Masters, masters. 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Con. Masters,— 1 Watch. Never speak; we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men's bills. Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you. [Exeunt. better. Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. Marg. By my troth, it's not so good; and I warrant, your cousin will say so. Hero. My cousin's a fool, an thou art another; I'll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the duchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so. Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. Enter BEATRICE. Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in the sick tune? Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. Marg. Clap us into-Light o' love; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. Beat. Yea, Light of love, with your heels?then if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns. Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. Beat. "Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill-hey ho! Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. Beat. What means the fool, trow? Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire ĺ Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold.' Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have you profess'd apprehension? Marg. Ever since you left it: doth not my wit become me rarely? Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap.-By my troth, I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm. Hero. There thou prick' st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy thistle. You may think, perchance, that I think you are in love: nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging: and how you may be converted, I know not; but methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? Re-enter URSULA. Urs. Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the count, signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church. Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours: Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced with silver; set with pearls, down-sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a blueish tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy! [of a man. Marg. "Twill be heavier soon by the weight Hero. Fye upon thee! art not ashamed? Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think, you would have me say, saving your reverence, a husband: an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody: Is Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confithere any harm in-the heavier for a husband?dence with you, that decerns you nearly. Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, [Exeunt. good Ursula. SCENE V. Another Room in Leonato's House. Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see, 'tis a the plain form of marriage, and you shall rebusy time with me. Dogb. Marry, this 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, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows. Verg. Yes, I thank God, 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 times 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. Verg. And so am I. Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. 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; God help us! it is a world to see!-Well said, f'faith, neighbour Verges:-well, God's a good man; 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, God is to be worshipped: All men are not alike; alas! good neighbour! Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short Dogb. Gifts, that God gives. [of you. Leon. I must leave you. 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. Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. Leon. I will wait upon them; I am ready. [Exeunt LEONATO and Messenger. 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. Verg. 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. Art Fourth. [Exeunt. SCENE I. The Inside of a Church. Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, Friar, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, and BEATRICE, &c. count their particular duties afterwards. Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry Claud. No. (this lady? Leon. To be married to her, friar; you come to marry her. Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married Hero. I do. [to this count? 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? Leon. I dare make his answer, none. Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! not knowing what they do! Bene. How now! Interjections? Why, then some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he! [leave! Claud. Stand thee by, friar:-Father, by your Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid, your daughter? Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift. D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. [thankfulness. Cloud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble There, Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend; She's but the sign and semblance of her honour.Behold, how like a maid she blushes here: O, what authority, and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid, By these exterior shows ?-But she is none: She knows the heat of a luxurious bed: Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. Leon. 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, And made defeat of her virginity, Claud. I know what you would say; If I have known her, You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, I never tempted her with word too large [it: Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy seeming! I will write against 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. D. Pedro. Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you? [wide? What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale. Leon. Are these things spoken? or do I but dream? [are true. D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Hero. C. Leonato, stand I here? True, O God! Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief; only to Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother i |