Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother: spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up,) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. D. John. What proof shall I make of that? Hero. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato: look you for any other issue? D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio, alone: tell them, that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as -in love of your brother's honour, who hath made this match; and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid, that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding; for, in the mean time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair; yet I am well: another is wise; yet I am well: another virtuous; yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [withdraws. Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio. D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music? Claud. Yea, my good lord.-How still the evenAs hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! [ing is, D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music ended We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny worth. Enter Balthazar, with music. D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander music any more than once. D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection:I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. Balth. Because you talk of wooing I will sing; Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy; yet he wooes; Yet will he swear, he loves. D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come: Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes. Balth. Note this before my notes, There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks; Note, notes, forsooth, and noting! ⠀ Emusic. Bene. Now, Divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange, that sheeps' guts should Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book; hale souls out of men's bodies?-Well, a horn for bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. I am here already, sir. Bene. I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again. [erit Boy.]—I do much wonder, that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love: and such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no music with him but the drum and fife, and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known, when he would have walked ten mile a-foot, to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man, and a soldier; and now is he turned orthographer; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oister; but I'll take my oath on it, till he bave made an oister of me, he my money, when all's done. Balthazar sings. Ralth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, One foot in sea, and one on shore; But let them go, And be you blithe and bonny; Sing no more ditties, sing no more D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. Bene. [aside.] An he had been a dog, that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him : and I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. D. Pedro. Yea, marry; [to Claudio.]-Dost " thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window. Balth. The best I can, my lord, D. Pedro. Do so; farewell. [exeunt Balthazar and music.] Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick? Claud. O, ay.-Stalk on; stalk on; the fowl sits. [aside to Pedro.] I did nev I never think that lady would have loved any man. Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor, Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? [aside. Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. Claud. 'Faith, like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit! There never was counterfeit of passion came so the life of passion, as she discovers it. [she? D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. [aside. near Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit you,You heard my daughter tell you how. Claud. She did, indeed. D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick. Bene. [aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence. 'Claud. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up. [aside. D. Pedro, Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? Leon., No; and swears she never will: that's her torment. Claud. 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: Shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, to him that I love him? curses;-O sweet Benedick! God give me pa tience! Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says s0: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a desperate outrage to herself; it is very true. D. Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? He would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him: she's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. Claud. And she is exceeding wise. [dick. D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving BeneLeon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage I other respects, and on me; I would have daff'd made her half myself: I pray Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die: for she says, she will die if he love her not; and she will die ere she makes her love known: and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. D. Pedro. She doth well if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. Claud. He is a very proper man. [happiness. D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are like wit. Leon. And I take him to be valiant. D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you and in the managing of quarrels you may see he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear. Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. to writ now, when she is beginning large jests he will make. Leon. to for she'll be up twenty times a night; and there will she sit in her smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper:-my daughter tells us all. LOON TO Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. Leon. O! When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice Claud. That. [between the sheet? Leon, O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would fout her. I measure him, says she, by my own spirit for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should. Cloud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, subs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some Well, I am sorry for your niece: shall we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love? Claud. Never tell him my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first. D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear, further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady, Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, 1 will never trust my expectation. Taside. D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [aside. [exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato. Benedick advances from the arbour. Bene. This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne.-They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.I did never think to marry:-I must not seem proud. Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous;-'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me. By my troth, it is no addition to her wit; nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long ' against marriage. But doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot SCENE I. LEONATO'S GArden. ACT Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula, For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish [they advance to the bower. endure in his age: shall quips, and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? No: the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice; by this day, she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter Beatrice. Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. Bene. You take pleasure in the message? Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior: fare you well. [exit. Bene. Ha!" Against my will I am sent to bid you come to dinner :" there's a double meaning in that."I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me:"—that's as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go get her picture. [exit. III. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; I know, her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. Urs. But are you sure, That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? [lord. Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Hero O god of love! I know, he doth deserve All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Urs. Sure, I think so; And, therefore, certainly it were not good man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds: And never gives to truth and virtue, that Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Urs. Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say. Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. Always excepted my dear Claudio. bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his 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-ach. [afterwards. Claud. You must hang it first, and draw 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 Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, you would have it appear he is. For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name. 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? [ber's? D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barClaud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath Hero. Why, every day-to-morrow: come, already stuffed tennis-balls. I'll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel, Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: SCENE II. A ROOM IN LEONATO'S HOUSE. [exit. 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 D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melan- 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. [upwards. D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. be-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. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato. D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage consummate, and then go toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a 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 bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart as sound as a [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 parts 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. Pedro. Good den, brother. Dogb. First, who think you the most desartD. John. If your leisure served, I would speak less man to be constable? D. John. If it please you ;-yet Count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of concerns him. D. Pedro. What's the matter? D. John. Means your lordship to be married to-morrow? [to Claudio. 1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Sea. coal; for they can write and read. God Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. hath blessed you with a good name: to be a wellfavoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature. 2 Watch. Both which, master constable,Dogb. You have; I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why give D. John. I know not that, when he knows God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for what I know. D. Pedro. You know he does. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. 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? 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 D. John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your but the prince's subjects:-you shall also make no 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 chamber-window 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. Pedro. I will not think it. 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 you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. D. Pedro. O, day untowardly turned! Claud. O, mischief strangely thwarting! D. John. O, plague right well prevented! So will you say, when you have seen the sequel. SCENE III. A STREET. [exeunt. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch. Dogb. Are you good men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. Dogb. 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. 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 2 Watch. How, if they will not? [bed. 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 took them for. 2 Watch. Well, sir. 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 baes, will neve answer a calf when he bleats. |