Act II. should have howled thus, they would have hanged Bene. [Aside. An he had been a dog, that 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. transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he 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 music.] Come hither, Leonato : What was it D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exeunt Balthazar and monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour.you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick? [Withdraws. Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio. D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music? As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music ended, 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 D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;| D. Pedro. 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, note, forsooth, and noting! [Music Bene. Now, Divine air! now is his soul ravished!--Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?-Well, a horn for my money, when all's done. Balthazar sings. Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, One foot in sea, and one on shore; you But let them go, Sing no more ditties, sing no mo12 D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some ex- Claud. O, ay:-Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. [Aside to Pedro.] I did 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 abhor. she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what [Aside. to think of it; but that she loves him with an enraged affection,-it is past the infinite of thought.3 D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. Claud. 'Faith, like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit! There never was counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it. D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she? Leon. What effects, my lord! She will sit you,--[Aside. 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. cially 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. 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, write to him that I love him? Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him: 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. Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. Leon. When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet? Claud. That. Leon. O! she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own spirit, for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, D. Pedro. Ha? no; no, faith; thou singest well though I love him, I should. enough for a shift. (1) Young or cub-fox. (2) Longer. Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, (3) Beyond the power of thought to conceive. Scene III. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Benedick advances from above. weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays,|| D. Pedro. were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? He would make but 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. D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. 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 on me; I would have daff'd2 all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die: for she he love her not; and she will says, she will die 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 contemptible3 spirit. Claud. He is a very proper man. D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. : must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise.I 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 say 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. me, 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. Bene. You take pleasure in the message? [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 vilD. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth lain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go [Exit. get her picture. fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some for large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry 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 heart out first. her D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your (1) Alienation of mind, (2) Thrown off. (4) Handsome. Enter Hero, ACT III. To listen our propose: this is thy office, (6) Discoursing . Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, It were a better death than die with mocks; As we do trace this alley up and down, Enter Beatrice, behind. For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it- Urs. But are you sure, Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? 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; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds: Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. (1) A species of hawk. (2) Undervaluing. Which is as bad as die with tickling. Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say. Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.--When are you married, madam? Hero. Why, every day;-to-morrow: come, go in ; I'll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel, Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps : Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? [Exit. 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. the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in 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 dares 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. drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love: D. Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no true if he be sad, he wants money. Bene. I have the tooth-ach. D. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it! Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it after wards. D. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach? (5) Ensnar'd with birdlime. Scene III. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 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. holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter? D. John. I came hither to tell you; and, cir- 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 tomorrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as a German from the waist downward, all slop;1 and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doubletro, 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. Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face? 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-ach.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 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. John. If your leisure served, I would speak with you. D. Pedro. In private? D. John. If it please you ;-yet count Claudio D. John. Means your lordship to be married 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 (1) Large loose breeches. D. John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your He- say, D. John. The word is too good to paint out her 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, 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! SCENE III-A street. [Exeunt. Enter Dogberry and 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. Dogb. First, who think you the most desartless 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 wellfavoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature 2 Watch. Both which, master constab.e, Dogb. 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 be the most senseless and fit man for the constable no need of such vanity. You are thought here to 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 Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. he is none of the prince's subjects. R 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? 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. Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible any villany should be so rich; for when such villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may Dogb. Why then, let them alone till they are sober; if they make you not then the better answer,make what price they will. 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 never answer a calf when he bleats. Verg. 'Tis very 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 man that knows the statues, he may stay him: 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. Con. I wonder at it. Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed:2 thou 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 thief 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 Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy3 painting; sometime, like god Bel's priests in the old church window; sometime, like the shaven Hercules in the smirched1 wormeaten 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 tonight wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress' chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night,-I tell this tale 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? 2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our chargedio; but the devil my master knew she was Marlet us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed. garet; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deDogb. One word more, honest neighbours: Iceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did 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,- Bora. Conrade, I say! Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow. 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. 1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, [Aside.stand. 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable : we have here recovered the most dangerous piece Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought of lechery that ever was known in the common there would a scab follow. Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and (1) Weapons of the watchmen. wealth. |