{"collection":"sks","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/sks/man/man.htm","path":"sks/man/man.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/sks/man/man.htm","text":"MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\nDON PEDRO prince of Arragon.\nDON JOHN his bastard brother.\nCLAUDIO a young lord of Florence.\nBENEDICK a young lord of Padua.\nLEONATO governor of Messina.\nANTONIO his brother.\nBALTHASAR attendant on Don Pedro.\nCONRADE |\n| followers of Don John.\nBORACHIO |\nFRIAR FRANCIS:\nDOGBERRY a constable.\nVERGES a headborough.\nA Sexton.\nA Boy.\nHERO daughter to Leonato.\nBEATRICE niece to Leonato.\nMARGARET |\n| gentlewomen attending on Hero.\nURSULA |\nMessengers, Watch, Attendants, &c. (Lord:)\n(Messenger:)\n(Watchman:)\n(First Watchman:)\n(Second Watchman:)\nSCENE Messina.\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT I\nSCENE I Before LEONATO'S house.\n[Enter LEONATO, HERO, and BEATRICE, with a\nMessenger]\nLEONATO I learn in this letter that Don Peter of Arragon\ncomes this night to Messina.\nMessenger He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off\nwhen I left him.\nLEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?\nMessenger But few of any sort, and none of name.\nLEONATO A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings\nhome full numbers. I find here that Don Peter hath\nbestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio.\nMessenger Much deserved on his part and equally remembered by\nDon Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the\npromise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb,\nthe feats of a lion: he hath indeed better\nbettered expectation than you must expect of me to\ntell you how.\nLEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much\nglad of it.\nMessenger I have already delivered him letters, and there\nappears much joy in him; even so much that joy could\nnot show itself modest enough without a badge of\nbitterness.\nLEONATO Did he break out into tears?\nMessenger In great measure.\nLEONATO A kind overflow of kindness: there are no faces\ntruer than those that are so washed. How much\nbetter is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!\nBEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the\nwars or no?\nMessenger I know none of that name, lady: there was none such\nin the army of any sort.\nLEONATO What is he that you ask for, niece?\nHERO My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.\nMessenger O, he's returned; and as pleasant as ever he was.\nBEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged\nCupid at the flight; and my uncle's fool, reading\nthe challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged\nhim at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he\nkilled and eaten in these wars? But how many hath\nhe killed? for indeed I promised to eat all of his killing.\nLEONATO Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much;\nbut he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.\nMessenger He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.\nBEATRICE You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it:\nhe is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an\nexcellent stomach.\nMessenger And a good soldier too, lady.\nBEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady: but what is he to a lord?\nMessenger A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all\nhonourable virtues.\nBEATRICE It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man:\nbut for the stuffing,--well, we are all mortal.\nLEONATO You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a\nkind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her:\nthey never meet but there's a skirmish of wit\nbetween them.\nBEATRICE Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last\nconflict four of his five wits went halting off, and\nnow is the whole man governed with one: so that if\nhe have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him\nbear it for a difference between himself and his\nhorse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left,\nto be known a reasonable creature. Who is his\ncompanion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.\nMessenger Is't possible?\nBEATRICE Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as\nthe fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the\nnext block.\nMessenger I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.\nBEATRICE No; an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray\nyou, who is his companion? Is there no young\nsquarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil?\nMessenger He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.\nBEATRICE O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease: he\nis sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker\nruns presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! if\nhe have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a\nthousand pound ere a' be cured.\nMessenger I will hold friends with you, lady.\nBEATRICE Do, good friend.\nLEONATO You will never run mad, niece.\nBEATRICE No, not till a hot January.\nMessenger Don Pedro is approached.\n[Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK,\nand BALTHASAR]\nDON PEDRO Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your\ntrouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid\ncost, and you encounter it.\nLEONATO Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of\nyour grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should\nremain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides\nand happiness takes his leave.\nDON PEDRO You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this\nis your daughter.\nLEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so.\nBENEDICK Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?\nLEONATO Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.\nDON PEDRO You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this\nwhat you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers\nherself. Be happy, lady; for you are like an\nhonourable father.\nBENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not\nhave his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as\nlike him as she is.\nBEATRICE I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior\nBenedick: nobody marks you.\nBENEDICK What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?\nBEATRICE Is it possible disdain should die while she hath\nsuch meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?\nCourtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come\nin her presence.\nBENEDICK Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I\nam loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I\nwould I could find in my heart that I had not a hard\nheart; for, truly, I love none.\nBEATRICE A dear happiness to women: they would else have\nbeen troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God\nand my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I\nhad rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man\nswear he loves me.\nBENEDICK God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some\ngentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate\nscratched face.\nBEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such\na face as yours were.\nBENEDICK Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.\nBEATRICE A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.\nBENEDICK I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and\nso good a continuer. But keep your way, i' God's\nname; I have done.\nBEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old.\nDON PEDRO That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio\nand Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath\ninvited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at\nthe least a month; and he heartily prays some\noccasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no\nhypocrite, but prays from his heart.\nLEONATO If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn.\n[To DON JOHN]\nLet me bid you welcome, my lord: being reconciled to\nthe prince your brother, I owe you all duty.\nDON JOHN I thank you: I am not of many words, but I thank\nyou.\nLEONATO Please it your grace lead on?\nDON PEDRO Your hand, Leonato; we will go together.\n[Exeunt all except BENEDICK and CLAUDIO]\nCLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato?\nBENEDICK I noted her not; but I looked on her.\nCLAUDIO Is she not a modest young lady?\nBENEDICK Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for\nmy simple true judgment; or would you have me speak\nafter my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?\nCLAUDIO No; I pray thee speak in sober judgment.\nBENEDICK Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high\npraise, too brown for a fair praise and too little\nfor a great praise: only this commendation I can\nafford her, that were she other than she is, she\nwere unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I\ndo not like her.\nCLAUDIO Thou thinkest I am in sport: I pray thee tell me\ntruly how thou likest her.\nBENEDICK Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?\nCLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel?\nBENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this\nwith a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack,\nto tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and Vulcan a\nrare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take\nyou, to go in the song?\nCLAUDIO In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I\nlooked on.\nBENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles and I see no such\nmatter: there's her cousin, an she were not\npossessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty\nas the first of May doth the last of December. But I\nhope you have no intent to turn husband, have you?\nCLAUDIO I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the\ncontrary, if Hero would be my wife.\nBENEDICK Is't come to this? In faith, hath not the world\none man but he will wear his cap with suspicion?\nShall I never see a bachelor of three-score again?\nGo to, i' faith; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck\ninto a yoke, wear the print of it and sigh away\nSundays. Look Don Pedro is returned to seek you.\n[Re-enter DON PEDRO]\nDON PEDRO What secret hath held you here, that you followed\nnot to Leonato's?\nBENEDICK I would your grace would constrain me to tell.\nDON PEDRO I charge thee on thy allegiance.\nBENEDICK You hear, Count Claudio: I can be secret as a dumb\nman; I would have you think so; but, on my\nallegiance, mark you this, on my allegiance. He is\nin love. With who? now that is your grace's part.\nMark how short his answer is;--With Hero, Leonato's\nshort daughter.\nCLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered.\nBENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord: 'it is not so, nor\n'twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be\nso.'\nCLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it\nshould be otherwise.\nDON PEDRO Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy.\nCLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.\nDON PEDRO By my troth, I speak my thought.\nCLAUDIO And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.\nBENEDICK And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine.\nCLAUDIO That I love her, I feel.\nDON PEDRO That she is worthy, I know.\nBENEDICK That I neither feel how she should be loved nor\nknow how she should be worthy, is the opinion that\nfire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at the stake.\nDON PEDRO Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite\nof beauty.\nCLAUDIO And never could maintain his part but in the force\nof his will.\nBENEDICK That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she\nbrought me up, I likewise give her most humble\nthanks: but that I will have a recheat winded in my\nforehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick,\nall women shall pardon me. Because I will not do\nthem the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the\nright to trust none; and the fine is, for the which\nI may go the finer, I will live a bachelor.\nDON PEDRO I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.\nBENEDICK With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord,\nnot with love: prove that ever I lose more blood\nwith love than I will get again with drinking, pick\nout mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen and hang me\nup at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of\nblind Cupid.\nDON PEDRO Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou\nwilt prove a notable argument.\nBENEDICK If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot\nat me; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on\nthe shoulder, and called Adam.\nDON PEDRO Well, as time shall try: 'In time the savage bull\ndoth bear the yoke.'\nBENEDICK The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible\nBenedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set\nthem in my forehead: and let me be vilely painted,\nand in such great letters as they write 'Here is\ngood horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign\n'Here you may see Benedick the married man.'\nCLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad.\nDON PEDRO Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in\nVenice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.\nBENEDICK I look for an earthquake too, then.\nDON PEDRO Well, you temporize with the hours. In the\nmeantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to\nLeonato's: commend me to him and tell him I will\nnot fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made\ngreat preparation.\nBENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such an\nembassage; and so I commit you--\nCLAUDIO To the tuition of God: From my house, if I had it,--\nDON PEDRO The sixth of July: Your loving friend, Benedick.\nBENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your\ndiscourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and\nthe guards are but slightly basted on neither: ere\nyou flout old ends any further, examine your\nconscience: and so I leave you.\n[Exit]\nCLAUDIO My liege, your highness now may do me good.\nDON PEDRO My love is thine to teach: teach it but how,\nAnd thou shalt see how apt it is to learn\nAny hard lesson that may do thee good.\nCLAUDIO Hath Leonato any son, my lord?\nDON PEDRO No child but Hero; she's his only heir.\nDost thou affect her, Claudio?\nCLAUDIO O, my lord,\nWhen you went onward on this ended action,\nI look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,\nThat liked, but had a rougher task in hand\nThan to drive liking to the name of love:\nBut now I am return'd and that war-thoughts\nHave left their places vacant, in their rooms\nCome thronging soft and delicate desires,\nAll prompting me how fair young Hero is,\nSaying, I liked her ere I went to wars.\nDON PEDRO Thou wilt be like a lover presently\nAnd tire the hearer with a book of words.\nIf thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,\nAnd I will break with her and with her father,\nAnd thou shalt have her. Was't not to this end\nThat thou began'st to twist so fine a story?\nCLAUDIO How sweetly you do minister to love,\nThat know love's grief by his complexion!\nBut lest my liking might too sudden seem,\nI would have salved it with a longer treatise.\nDON PEDRO What need the bridge much broader than the flood?\nThe fairest grant is the necessity.\nLook, what will serve is fit: 'tis once, thou lovest,\nAnd I will fit thee with the remedy.\nI know we shall have revelling to-night:\nI will assume thy part in some disguise\nAnd tell fair Hero I am Claudio,\nAnd in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart\nAnd take her hearing prisoner with the force\nAnd strong encounter of my amorous tale:\nThen after to her father will I break;\nAnd the conclusion is, she shall be thine.\nIn practise let us put it presently.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT I\nSCENE II A room in LEONATO's house.\n[Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, meeting]\nLEONATO How now, brother! Where is my cousin, your son?\nhath he provided this music?\nANTONIO He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell\nyou strange news that you yet dreamt not of.\nLEONATO Are they good?\nANTONIO As the event stamps them: but they have a good\ncover; they show well outward. The prince and Count\nClaudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine\norchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine:\nthe prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my\nniece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it\nthis night in a dance: and if he found her\naccordant, he meant to take the present time by the\ntop and instantly break with you of it.\nLEONATO Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?\nANTONIO A good sharp fellow: I will send for him; and\nquestion him yourself.\nLEONATO No, no; we will hold it as a dream till it appear\nitself: but I will acquaint my daughter withal,\nthat she may be the better prepared for an answer,\nif peradventure this be true. Go you and tell her of it.\n[Enter Attendants]\nCousins, you know what you have to do. O, I cry you\nmercy, friend; go you with me, and I will use your\nskill. Good cousin, have a care this busy time.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT I\nSCENE III The same.\n[Enter DON JOHN and CONRADE]\nCONRADE What the good-year, my lord! why are you thus out\nof measure sad?\nDON JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that breeds;\ntherefore the sadness is without limit.\nCONRADE You should hear reason.\nDON JOHN And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it?\nCONRADE If not a present remedy, at least a patient\nsufferance.\nDON JOHN I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayest thou art,\nborn under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral\nmedicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide\nwhat I am: I must be sad when I have cause and smile\nat no man's jests, eat when I have stomach and wait\nfor no man's leisure, sleep when I am drowsy and\ntend on no man's business, laugh when I am merry and\nclaw no man in his humour.\nCONRADE Yea, but you must not make the full show of this\ntill you may do it without controlment. You have of\nlate stood out against your brother, and he hath\nta'en you newly into his grace; where it is\nimpossible you should take true root but by the\nfair weather that you make yourself: it is needful\nthat you frame the season for your own harvest.\nDON JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in\nhis grace, and it better fits my blood to be\ndisdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob\nlove from any: in this, though I cannot be said to\nbe a flattering honest man, it must not be denied\nbut I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with\na muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I\nhave decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my\nmouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do\nmy liking: in the meantime let me be that I am and\nseek not to alter me.\nCONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent?\nDON JOHN I make all use of it, for I use it only.\nWho comes here?\n[Enter BORACHIO]\nWhat news, Borachio?\nBORACHIO I came yonder from a great supper: the prince your\nbrother is royally entertained by Leonato: and I\ncan give you intelligence of an intended marriage.\nDON JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief on?\nWhat is he for a fool that betroths himself to\nunquietness?\nBORACHIO Marry, it is your brother's right hand.\nDON JOHN Who? the most exquisite Claudio?\nBORACHIO Even he.\nDON JOHN A proper squire! And who, and who? which way looks\nhe?\nBORACHIO Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato.\nDON JOHN A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?\nBORACHIO Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a\nmusty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand\nin hand in sad conference: I whipt me behind the\narras; and there heard it agreed upon that the\nprince should woo Hero for himself, and having\nobtained her, give her to Count Claudio.\nDON JOHN Come, come, let us thither: this may prove food to\nmy displeasure. That young start-up hath all the\nglory of my overthrow: if I can cross him any way, I\nbless myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me?\nCONRADE To the death, my lord.\nDON JOHN Let us to the great supper: their cheer is the\ngreater that I am subdued. Would the cook were of\nmy mind! Shall we go prove what's to be done?\nBORACHIO We'll wait upon your lordship.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT II\nSCENE I A hall in LEONATO'S house.\n[Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others]\nLEONATO Was not Count John here at supper?\nANTONIO I saw him not.\nBEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see\nhim but I am heart-burned an hour after.\nHERO He is of a very melancholy disposition.\nBEATRICE He were an excellent man that were made just in the\nmidway between him and Benedick: the one is too\nlike an image and says nothing, and the other too\nlike my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling.\nLEONATO Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's\nmouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior\nBenedick's face,--\nBEATRICE With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money\nenough in his purse, such a man would win any woman\nin the world, if a' could get her good-will.\nLEONATO By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a\nhusband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.\nANTONIO In faith, she's too curst.\nBEATRICE Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God's\nsending that way; for it is said, 'God sends a curst\ncow short horns;' but to a cow too curst he sends none.\nLEONATO So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.\nBEATRICE Just, if he send me no husband; for the which\nblessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and\nevening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a\nbeard on his face: I had rather lie in the woollen.\nLEONATO You may light on a husband that hath no beard.\nBEATRICE What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel\nand make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a\nbeard is more than a youth, and he that hath no\nbeard is less than a man: and he that is more than\na youth is not for me, and he that is less than a\nman, I am not for him: therefore, I will even take\nsixpence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead his\napes into hell.\nLEONATO Well, then, go you into hell?\nBEATRICE No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet\nme, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and\nsay 'Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to\nheaven; here's no place for you maids:' so deliver\nI up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the\nheavens; he shows me where the bachelors sit, and\nthere live we as merry as the day is long.\nANTONIO [To HERO] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled\nby your father.\nBEATRICE Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy\nand say 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all\nthat, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else\nmake another curtsy and say 'Father, as it please\nme.'\nLEONATO Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.\nBEATRICE Not till God make men of some other metal than\nearth. Would it not grieve a woman to be\novermastered with a pierce of valiant dust? to make\nan account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?\nNo, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren;\nand, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.\nLEONATO Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince\ndo solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.\nBEATRICE The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be\nnot wooed in good time: if the prince be too\nimportant, tell him there is measure in every thing\nand so dance out the answer. For, hear me, Hero:\nwooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig,\na measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot\nand hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as\nfantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a\nmeasure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes\nrepentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the\ncinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.\nLEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.\nBEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight.\nLEONATO The revellers are entering, brother: make good room.\n[All put on their masks]\n[Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHASAR,\nDON JOHN, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA and others, masked]\nDON PEDRO Lady, will you walk about with your friend?\nHERO So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing,\nI am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away.\nDON PEDRO With me in your company?\nHERO I may say so, when I please.\nDON PEDRO And when please you to say so?\nHERO When I like your favour; for God defend the lute\nshould be like the case!\nDON PEDRO My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.\nHERO Why, then, your visor should be thatched.\nDON PEDRO Speak low, if you speak love.\n[Drawing her aside]\nBALTHASAR Well, I would you did like me.\nMARGARET So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many\nill-qualities.\nBALTHASAR Which is one?\nMARGARET I say my prayers aloud.\nBALTHASAR I love you the better: the hearers may cry, Amen.\nMARGARET God match me with a good dancer!\nBALTHASAR Amen.\nMARGARET And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is\ndone! Answer, clerk.\nBALTHASAR No more words: the clerk is answered.\nURSULA I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio.\nANTONIO At a word, I am not.\nURSULA I know you by the waggling of your head.\nANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him.\nURSULA You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were\nthe very man. Here's his dry hand up and down: you\nare he, you are he.\nANTONIO At a word, I am not.\nURSULA Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your\nexcellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to,\nmum, you are he: graces will appear, and there's an\nend.\nBEATRICE Will you not tell me who told you so?\nBENEDICK No, you shall pardon me.\nBEATRICE Nor will you not tell me who you are?\nBENEDICK Not now.\nBEATRICE That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit\nout of the 'Hundred Merry Tales:'--well this was\nSignior Benedick that said so.\nBENEDICK What's he?\nBEATRICE I am sure you know him well enough.\nBENEDICK Not I, believe me.\nBEATRICE Did he never make you laugh?\nBENEDICK I pray you, what is he?\nBEATRICE Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool;\nonly his gift is in devising impossible slanders:\nnone but libertines delight in him; and the\ncommendation is not in his wit, but in his villany;\nfor he both pleases men and angers them, and then\nthey laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in\nthe fleet: I would he had boarded me.\nBENEDICK When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say.\nBEATRICE Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or two on me;\nwhich, peradventure not marked or not laughed at,\nstrikes him into melancholy; and then there's a\npartridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no\nsupper that night.\n[Music]\nWe must follow the leaders.\nBENEDICK In every good thing.\nBEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at\nthe next turning.\n[Dance. Then exeunt all except DON JOHN, BORACHIO,\nand CLAUDIO]\nDON JOHN Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath\nwithdrawn her father to break with him about it.\nThe ladies follow her and but one visor remains.\nBORACHIO And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing.\nDON JOHN Are not you Signior Benedick?\nCLAUDIO You know me well; I am he.\nDON JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in his love:\nhe is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him\nfrom her: she is no equal for his birth: you may\ndo the part of an honest man in it.\nCLAUDIO How know you he loves her?\nDON JOHN I heard him swear his affection.\nBORACHIO So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night.\nDON JOHN Come, let us to the banquet.\n[Exeunt DON JOHN and BORACHIO]\nCLAUDIO Thus answer I in the name of Benedick,\nBut hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.\n'Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself.\nFriendship is constant in all other things\nSave in the office and affairs of love:\nTherefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues;\nLet every eye negotiate for itself\nAnd trust no agent; for beauty is a witch\nAgainst whose charms faith melteth into blood.\nThis is an accident of hourly proof,\nWhich I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero!\n[Re-enter BENEDICK]\nBENEDICK Count Claudio?\nCLAUDIO Yea, the same.\nBENEDICK Come, will you go with me?\nCLAUDIO Whither?\nBENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own business,\ncounty. What fashion will you wear the garland of?\nabout your neck, like an usurer's chain? or under\nyour arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear\nit one way, for the prince hath got your Hero.\nCLAUDIO I wish him joy of her.\nBENEDICK Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier: so they\nsell bullocks. But did you think the prince would\nhave served you thus?\nCLAUDIO I pray you, leave me.\nBENEDICK Ho! now you strike like the blind man: 'twas the\nboy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.\nCLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you.\n[Exit]\nBENEDICK Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges.\nBut that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not\nknow me! The prince's fool! Ha? It may be I go\nunder that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I\nam apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it\nis the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice\nthat puts the world into her person and so gives me\nout. Well, I'll be revenged as I may.\n[Re-enter DON PEDRO]\nDON PEDRO Now, signior, where's the count? did you see him?\nBENEDICK Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame.\nI found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a\nwarren: I told him, and I think I told him true,\nthat your grace had got the good will of this young\nlady; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree,\neither to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or\nto bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped.\nDON PEDRO To be whipped! What's his fault?\nBENEDICK The flat transgression of a schoolboy, who, being\noverjoyed with finding a birds' nest, shows it his\ncompanion, and he steals it.\nDON PEDRO Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The\ntransgression is in the stealer.\nBENEDICK Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made,\nand the garland too; for the garland he might have\nworn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on\nyou, who, as I take it, have stolen his birds' nest.\nDON PEDRO I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to\nthe owner.\nBENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my faith,\nyou say honestly.\nDON PEDRO The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you: the\ngentleman that danced with her told her she is much\nwronged by you.\nBENEDICK O, she misused me past the endurance of a block!\nan oak but with one green leaf on it would have\nanswered her; my very visor began to assume life and\nscold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been\nmyself, that I was the prince's jester, that I was\nduller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest\nwith such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood\nlike a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at\nme. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs:\nif her breath were as terrible as her terminations,\nthere were no living near her; she would infect to\nthe north star. I would not marry her, though she\nwere endowed with all that Adam bad left him before\nhe transgressed: she would have made Hercules have\nturned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make\nthe fire too. Come, talk not of her: you shall find\nher the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God\nsome scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while\nshe is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a\nsanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they\nwould go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror\nand perturbation follows her.\nDON PEDRO Look, here she comes.\n[Enter CLAUDIO, BEATRICE, HERO, and LEONATO]\nBENEDICK Will your grace command me any service to the\nworld's end? I will go on the slightest errand now\nto the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on;\nI will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the\nfurthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of\nPrester John's foot, fetch you a hair off the great\nCham's beard, do you any embassage to the Pigmies,\nrather than hold three words' conference with this\nharpy. You have no employment for me?\nDON PEDRO None, but to desire your good company.\nBENEDICK O God, sir, here's a dish I love not: I cannot\nendure my Lady Tongue.\n[Exit]\nDON PEDRO Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of\nSignior Benedick.\nBEATRICE Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave\nhim use for it, a double heart for his single one:\nmarry, once before he won it of me with false dice,\ntherefore your grace may well say I have lost it.\nDON PEDRO You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.\nBEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I\nshould prove the mother of fools. I have brought\nCount Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.\nDON PEDRO Why, how now, count! wherefore are you sad?\nCLAUDIO Not sad, my lord.\nDON PEDRO How then? sick?\nCLAUDIO Neither, my lord.\nBEATRICE The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor\nwell; but civil count, civil as an orange, and\nsomething of that jealous complexion.\nDON PEDRO I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true;\nthough, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is\nfalse. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and\nfair Hero is won: I have broke with her father,\nand his good will obtained: name the day of\nmarriage, and God give thee joy!\nLEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my\nfortunes: his grace hath made the match, and an\ngrace say Amen to it.\nBEATRICE Speak, count, 'tis your cue.\nCLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were\nbut little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as\nyou are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for\nyou and dote upon the exchange.\nBEATRICE Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth\nwith a kiss, and let not him speak neither.\nDON PEDRO In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.\nBEATRICE Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on\nthe windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his\near that he is in her heart.\nCLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin.\nBEATRICE Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the\nworld but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a\ncorner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!\nDON PEDRO Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.\nBEATRICE I would rather have one of your father's getting.\nHath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your\nfather got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.\nDON PEDRO Will you have me, lady?\nBEATRICE No, my lord, unless I might have another for\nworking-days: your grace is too costly to wear\nevery day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I\nwas born to speak all mirth and no matter.\nDON PEDRO Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best\nbecomes you; for, out of question, you were born in\na merry hour.\nBEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there\nwas a star danced, and under that was I born.\nCousins, God give you joy!\nLEONATO Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?\nBEATRICE I cry you mercy, uncle. By your grace's pardon.\n[Exit]\nDON PEDRO By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.\nLEONATO There's little of the melancholy element in her, my\nlord: she is never sad but when she sleeps, and\nnot ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say,\nshe hath often dreamed of unhappiness and waked\nherself with laughing.\nDON PEDRO She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.\nLEONATO O, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out of suit.\nDON PEDRO She were an excellent wife for Benedict.\nLEONATO O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married,\nthey would talk themselves mad.\nDON PEDRO County Claudio, when mean you to go to church?\nCLAUDIO To-morrow, my lord: time goes on crutches till love\nhave all his rites.\nLEONATO Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just\nseven-night; and a time too brief, too, to have all\nthings answer my mind.\nDON PEDRO Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing:\nbut, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go\ndully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of\nHercules' labours; which is, to bring Signior\nBenedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of\naffection the one with the other. I would fain have\nit a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if\nyou three will but minister such assistance as I\nshall give you direction.\nLEONATO My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten\nnights' watchings.\nCLAUDIO And I, my lord.\nDON PEDRO And you too, gentle Hero?\nHERO I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my\ncousin to a good husband.\nDON PEDRO And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that\nI know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble\nstrain, of approved valour and confirmed honesty. I\nwill teach you how to humour your cousin, that she\nshall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your\ntwo helps, will so practise on Benedick that, in\ndespite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he\nshall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this,\nCupid is no longer an archer: his glory shall be\nours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me,\nand I will tell you my drift.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT II\nSCENE II The same.\n[Enter DON JOHN and BORACHIO]\nDON JOHN It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the\ndaughter of Leonato.\nBORACHIO Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.\nDON JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be\nmedicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him,\nand whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges\nevenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?\nBORACHIO Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no\ndishonesty shall appear in me.\nDON JOHN Show me briefly how.\nBORACHIO I think I told your lordship a year since, how much\nI am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting\ngentlewoman to Hero.\nDON JOHN I remember.\nBORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night,\nappoint her to look out at her lady's chamber window.\nDON JOHN What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?\nBORACHIO The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to\nthe prince your brother; spare not to tell him that\nhe hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned\nClaudio--whose estimation do you mightily hold\nup--to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.\nDON JOHN What proof shall I make of that?\nBORACHIO Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio,\nto undo Hero and kill Leonato. Look you for any\nother issue?\nDON JOHN Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing.\nBORACHIO Go, then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and\nthe Count Claudio alone: tell them that you know\nthat Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the\nprince and Claudio, as,--in love of your brother's\nhonour, who hath made this match, and his friend's\nreputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the\nsemblance of a maid,--that you have discovered\nthus. They will scarcely believe this without trial:\noffer them instances; which shall bear no less\nlikelihood than to see me at her chamber-window,\nhear me call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me\nClaudio; and bring them to see this the very night\nbefore the intended wedding,--for in the meantime I\nwill so fashion the matter that Hero shall be\nabsent,--and there shall appear such seeming truth\nof Hero's disloyalty that jealousy shall be called\nassurance and all the preparation overthrown.\nDON JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put\nit in practise. Be cunning in the working this, and\nthy fee is a thousand ducats.\nBORACHIO Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning\nshall not shame me.\nDON JOHN I will presently go learn their day of marriage.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT II\nSCENE III LEONATO'S orchard.\n[Enter BENEDICK]\nBENEDICK Boy!\n[Enter Boy]\nBoy Signior?\nBENEDICK In my chamber-window lies a book: bring it hither\nto me in the orchard.\nBoy I am here already, sir.\nBENEDICK I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again.\n[Exit Boy]\nI do much wonder that one man, seeing how much\nanother man is a fool when he dedicates his\nbehaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at\nsuch shallow follies in others, become the argument\nof his own scorn by failing in love: and such a man\nis Claudio. I have known when there was no music\nwith him but the drum and the fife; and now had he\nrather hear the tabour and the pipe: I have known\nwhen he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a\ngood armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake,\ncarving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to\nspeak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man\nand a soldier; and now is he turned orthography; his\nwords are a very fantastical banquet, just so many\nstrange dishes. May I be so converted and see with\nthese eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not\nbe sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but\nI'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster\nof me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman\nis fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am\nwell; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all\ngraces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in\nmy grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise,\nor I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her;\nfair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not\nnear me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good\ndiscourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall\nbe of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and\nMonsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour.\n[Withdraws]\n[Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO]\nDON PEDRO Come, shall we hear this music?\nCLAUDIO Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is,\nAs hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!\nDON PEDRO See you where Benedick hath hid himself?\nCLAUDIO O, very well, my lord: the music ended,\nWe'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.\n[Enter BALTHASAR with Music]\nDON PEDRO Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again.\nBALTHASAR O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice\nTo slander music any more than once.\nDON PEDRO It is the witness still of excellency\nTo put a strange face on his own perfection.\nI pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.\nBALTHASAR Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;\nSince many a wooer doth commence his suit\nTo her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes,\nYet will he swear he loves.\nDON PEDRO Now, pray thee, come;\nOr, if thou wilt hold longer argument,\nDo it in notes.\nBALTHASAR Note this before my notes;\nThere's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.\nDON PEDRO Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks;\nNote, notes, forsooth, and nothing.\n[Air]\nBENEDICK Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it\nnot strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out\nof men's bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when\nall's done.\n[The Song]\nBALTHASAR Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,\nMen were deceivers ever,\nOne foot in sea and one on shore,\nTo one thing constant never:\nThen sigh not so, but let them go,\nAnd be you blithe and bonny,\nConverting all your sounds of woe\nInto Hey nonny, nonny.\nSing no more ditties, sing no moe,\nOf dumps so dull and heavy;\nThe fraud of men was ever so,\nSince summer first was leafy:\nThen sigh not so, &c.\nDON PEDRO By my troth, a good song.\nBALTHASAR And an ill singer, my lord.\nDON PEDRO Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift.\nBENEDICK An he had been a dog that should have howled thus,\nthey would have hanged him: and I pray God his bad\nvoice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the\nnight-raven, come what plague could have come after\nit.\nDON PEDRO Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee,\nget us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we\nwould have it at the Lady Hero's chamber-window.\nBALTHASAR The best I can, my lord.\nDON PEDRO Do so: farewell.\n[Exit BALTHASAR]\nCome hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of\nto-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with\nSignior Benedick?\nCLAUDIO O, ay: stalk on. stalk on; the fowl sits. I did\nnever think that lady would have loved any man.\nLEONATO No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she\nshould so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in\nall outward behaviors seemed ever to abhor.\nBENEDICK Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?\nLEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think\nof it but that she loves him with an enraged\naffection: it is past the infinite of thought.\nDON PEDRO May be she doth but counterfeit.\nCLAUDIO Faith, like enough.\nLEONATO O God, counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of\npassion came so near the life of passion as she\ndiscovers it.\nDON PEDRO Why, what effects of passion shows she?\nCLAUDIO Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.\nLEONATO What effects, my lord? She will sit you, you heard\nmy daughter tell you how.\nCLAUDIO She did, indeed.\nDON PEDRO How, how, pray you? You amaze me: I would have I\nthought her spirit had been invincible against all\nassaults of affection.\nLEONATO I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially\nagainst Benedick.\nBENEDICK I should think this a gull, but that the\nwhite-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot,\nsure, hide himself in such reverence.\nCLAUDIO He hath ta'en the infection: hold it up.\nDON PEDRO Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?\nLEONATO No; and swears she never will: that's her torment.\nCLAUDIO 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: 'Shall\nI,' says she, 'that have so oft encountered him\nwith scorn, write to him that I love him?'\nLEONATO This says she now when she is beginning to write to\nhim; for she'll be up twenty times a night, and\nthere will she sit in her smock till she have writ a\nsheet of paper: my daughter tells us all.\nCLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a\npretty jest your daughter told us of.\nLEONATO O, when she had writ it and was reading it over, she\nfound Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?\nCLAUDIO That.\nLEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence;\nrailed at herself, that she should be so immodest\nto write to one that she knew would flout her; 'I\nmeasure him,' says she, 'by my own spirit; for I\nshould flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I\nlove him, I should.'\nCLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs,\nbeats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; 'O\nsweet Benedick! God give me patience!'\nLEONATO She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the\necstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter\nis sometime afeared she will do a desperate outrage\nto herself: it is very true.\nDON PEDRO It were good that Benedick knew of it by some\nother, if she will not discover it.\nCLAUDIO To what end? He would make but a sport of it and\ntorment the poor lady worse.\nDON PEDRO An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She's an\nexcellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion,\nshe is virtuous.\nCLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise.\nDON PEDRO In every thing but in loving Benedick.\nLEONATO O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender\na body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath\nthe victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just\ncause, being her uncle and her guardian.\nDON PEDRO I would she had bestowed this dotage on me: I would\nhave daffed all other respects and made her half\nmyself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear\nwhat a' will say.\nLEONATO Were it good, think you?\nCLAUDIO Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she\nwill die, if he love her not, and she will die, ere\nshe make her love known, and she will die, if he woo\nher, rather than she will bate one breath of her\naccustomed crossness.\nDON PEDRO She doth well: if she should make tender of her\nlove, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the\nman, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.\nCLAUDIO He is a very proper man.\nDON PEDRO He hath indeed a good outward happiness.\nCLAUDIO Before God! and, in my mind, very wise.\nDON PEDRO He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit.\nCLAUDIO And I take him to be valiant.\nDON PEDRO As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of\nquarrels you may say he is wise; for either he\navoids them with great discretion, or undertakes\nthem with a most Christian-like fear.\nLEONATO If he do fear God, a' must necessarily keep peace:\nif he break the peace, he ought to enter into a\nquarrel with fear and trembling.\nDON PEDRO And so will he do; for the man doth fear God,\nhowsoever it seems not in him by some large jests\nhe will make. Well I am sorry for your niece. Shall\nwe go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love?\nCLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with\ngood counsel.\nLEONATO Nay, that's impossible: she may wear her heart out first.\nDON PEDRO Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter:\nlet it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I\ncould wish he would modestly examine himself, to see\nhow much he is unworthy so good a lady.\nLEONATO My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.\nCLAUDIO If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never\ntrust my expectation.\nDON PEDRO Let there be the same net spread for her; and that\nmust your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The\nsport will be, when they hold one an opinion of\nanother's dotage, and no such matter: that's the\nscene that I would see, which will be merely a\ndumb-show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.\n[Exeunt DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO]\nBENEDICK [Coming forward] This can be no trick: the\nconference was sadly borne. They have the truth of\nthis from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it\nseems her affections have their full bent. Love me!\nwhy, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured:\nthey say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive\nthe love come from her; they say too that she will\nrather die than give any sign of affection. I did\nnever think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy\nare they that hear their detractions and can put\nthem to mending. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a\ntruth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis\nso, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving\nme; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor\nno great argument of her folly, for I will be\nhorribly in love with her. I may chance have some\nodd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me,\nbecause I have railed so long against marriage: but\ndoth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat\nin his youth that he cannot endure in his age.\nShall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of\nthe brain awe a man from the career of his humour?\nNo, the world must be peopled. When I said I would\ndie a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I\nwere married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day!\nshe's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in\nher.\n[Enter BEATRICE]\nBEATRICE Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.\nBENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.\nBEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks than you take\npains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would\nnot have come.\nBENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message?\nBEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's\npoint and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach,\nsignior: fare you well.\n[Exit]\nBENEDICK Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in\nto dinner;' there's a double meaning in that 'I took\nno more pains for those thanks than you took pains\nto thank me.' that's as much as to say, Any pains\nthat I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do\nnot take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not\nlove her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture.\n[Exit]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT III\nSCENE I LEONATO'S garden.\n[Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA]\nHERO Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor;\nThere shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice\nProposing with the prince and Claudio:\nWhisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula\nWalk in the orchard and our whole discourse\nIs all of her; say that thou overheard'st us;\nAnd bid her steal into the pleached bower,\nWhere honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,\nForbid the sun to enter, like favourites,\nMade proud by princes, that advance their pride\nAgainst that power that bred it: there will she hide her,\nTo listen our purpose. This is thy office;\nBear thee well in it and leave us alone.\nMARGARET I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.\n[Exit]\nHERO Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,\nAs we do trace this alley up and down,\nOur talk must only be of Benedick.\nWhen I do name him, let it be thy part\nTo praise him more than ever man did merit:\nMy talk to thee must be how Benedick\nIs sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter\nIs little Cupid's crafty arrow made,\nThat only wounds by hearsay.\n[Enter BEATRICE, behind]\nNow begin;\nFor look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs\nClose by the ground, to hear our conference.\nURSULA The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish\nCut with her golden oars the silver stream,\nAnd greedily devour the treacherous bait:\nSo angle we for Beatrice; who even now\nIs couched in the woodbine coverture.\nFear you not my part of the dialogue.\nHERO Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing\nOf the false sweet bait that we lay for it.\n[Approaching the bower]\nNo, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;\nI know her spirits are as coy and wild\nAs haggerds of the rock.\nURSULA But are you sure\nThat Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?\nHERO So says the prince and my new-trothed lord.\nURSULA And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?\nHERO They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;\nBut I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick,\nTo wish him wrestle with affection,\nAnd never to let Beatrice know of it.\nURSULA Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman\nDeserve as full as fortunate a bed\nAs ever Beatrice shall couch upon?\nHERO O god of love! I know he doth deserve\nAs much as may be yielded to a man:\nBut Nature never framed a woman's heart\nOf prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;\nDisdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,\nMisprising what they look on, and her wit\nValues itself so highly that to her\nAll matter else seems weak: she cannot love,\nNor take no shape nor project of affection,\nShe is so self-endeared.\nURSULA Sure, I think so;\nAnd therefore certainly it were not good\nShe knew his love, lest she make sport at it.\nHERO Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,\nHow wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,\nBut she would spell him backward: if fair-faced,\nShe would swear the gentleman should be her sister;\nIf black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique,\nMade a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;\nIf low, an agate very vilely cut;\nIf speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;\nIf silent, why, a block moved with none.\nSo turns she every man the wrong side out\nAnd never gives to truth and virtue that\nWhich simpleness and merit purchaseth.\nURSULA Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.\nHERO No, not to be so odd and from all fashions\nAs Beatrice is, cannot be commendable:\nBut who dare tell her so? If I should speak,\nShe would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me\nOut of myself, press me to death with wit.\nTherefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,\nConsume away in sighs, waste inwardly:\nIt were a better death than die with mocks,\nWhich is as bad as die with tickling.\nURSULA Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.\nHERO No; rather I will go to Benedick\nAnd counsel him to fight against his passion.\nAnd, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders\nTo stain my cousin with: one doth not know\nHow much an ill word may empoison liking.\nURSULA O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.\nShe cannot be so much without true judgment--\nHaving so swift and excellent a wit\nAs she is prized to have--as to refuse\nSo rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.\nHERO He is the only man of Italy.\nAlways excepted my dear Claudio.\nURSULA I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,\nSpeaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,\nFor shape, for bearing, argument and valour,\nGoes foremost in report through Italy.\nHERO Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.\nURSULA His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.\nWhen are you married, madam?\nHERO Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in:\nI'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel\nWhich is the best to furnish me to-morrow.\nURSULA She's limed, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam.\nHERO If it proves so, then loving goes by haps:\nSome Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.\n[Exeunt HERO and URSULA]\nBEATRICE [Coming forward]\nWhat fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?\nStand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?\nContempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!\nNo glory lives behind the back of such.\nAnd, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,\nTaming my wild heart to thy loving hand:\nIf thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee\nTo bind our loves up in a holy band;\nFor others say thou dost deserve, and I\nBelieve it better than reportingly.\n[Exit]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT III\nSCENE II A room in LEONATO'S house\n[Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LEONATO]\nDON PEDRO I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and\nthen go I toward Arragon.\nCLAUDIO I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll\nvouchsafe me.\nDON PEDRO Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss\nof your marriage as to show a child his new coat\nand forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold\nwith Benedick for his company; for, from the crown\nof his head to the sole of his foot, he is all\nmirth: he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's\nbow-string and the little hangman dare not shoot at\nhim; he hath a heart as sound as a bell and his\ntongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his\ntongue speaks.\nBENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been.\nLEONATO So say I methinks you are sadder.\nCLAUDIO I hope he be in love.\nDON PEDRO Hang him, truant! there's no true drop of blood in\nhim, to be truly touched with love: if he be sad,\nhe wants money.\nBENEDICK I have the toothache.\nDON PEDRO Draw it.\nBENEDICK Hang it!\nCLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.\nDON PEDRO What! sigh for the toothache?\nLEONATO Where is but a humour or a worm.\nBENEDICK Well, every one can master a grief but he that has\nit.\nCLAUDIO Yet say I, he is in love.\nDON PEDRO There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be\na fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be\na Dutchman today, a Frenchman to-morrow, or in the\nshape of two countries at once, as, a German from\nthe waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from\nthe hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy\nto this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no\nfool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.\nCLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there is no\nbelieving old signs: a' brushes his hat o'\nmornings; what should that bode?\nDON PEDRO Hath any man seen him at the barber's?\nCLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him,\nand the old ornament of his cheek hath already\nstuffed tennis-balls.\nLEONATO Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.\nDON PEDRO Nay, a' rubs himself with civet: can you smell him\nout by that?\nCLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love.\nDON PEDRO The greatest note of it is his melancholy.\nCLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face?\nDON PEDRO Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear\nwhat they say of him.\nCLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into\na lute-string and now governed by stops.\nDON PEDRO Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude,\nconclude he is in love.\nCLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him.\nDON PEDRO That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.\nCLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of\nall, dies for him.\nDON PEDRO She shall be buried with her face upwards.\nBENEDICK Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old\nsignior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight\nor nine wise words to speak to you, which these\nhobby-horses must not hear.\n[Exeunt BENEDICK and LEONATO]\nDON PEDRO For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.\nCLAUDIO 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this\nplayed their parts with Beatrice; and then the two\nbears will not bite one another when they meet.\n[Enter DON JOHN]\nDON JOHN My lord and brother, God save you!\nDON PEDRO Good den, brother.\nDON JOHN If your leisure served, I would speak with you.\nDON PEDRO In private?\nDON JOHN If it please you: yet Count Claudio may hear; for\nwhat I would speak of concerns him.\nDON PEDRO What's the matter?\nDON JOHN [To CLAUDIO] Means your lordship to be married\nto-morrow?\nDON PEDRO You know he does.\nDON JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I know.\nCLAUDIO If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.\nDON JOHN You may think I love you not: let that appear\nhereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will\nmanifest. For my brother, I think he holds you\nwell, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect\nyour ensuing marriage;--surely suit ill spent and\nlabour ill bestowed.\nDON PEDRO Why, what's the matter?\nDON JOHN I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances\nshortened, for she has been too long a talking of,\nthe lady is disloyal.\nCLAUDIO Who, Hero?\nDON PEDRO Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero:\nCLAUDIO Disloyal?\nDON JOHN The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I\ncould say she were worse: think you of a worse\ntitle, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till\nfurther warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall\nsee her chamber-window entered, even the night\nbefore her wedding-day: if you love her then,\nto-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour\nto change your mind.\nCLAUDIO May this be so?\nDON PEDRO I will not think it.\nDON JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess not\nthat you know: if you will follow me, I will show\nyou enough; and when you have seen more and heard\nmore, proceed accordingly.\nCLAUDIO If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry\nher to-morrow in the congregation, where I should\nwed, there will I shame her.\nDON PEDRO And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join\nwith thee to disgrace her.\nDON JOHN I will disparage her no farther till you are my\nwitnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and\nlet the issue show itself.\nDON PEDRO O day untowardly turned!\nCLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting!\nDON JOHN O plague right well prevented! so will you say when\nyou have seen the sequel.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT III\nSCENE III A street.\n[Enter DOGBERRY and VERGES with the Watch]\nDOGBERRY Are you good men and true?\nVERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer\nsalvation, body and soul.\nDOGBERRY Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if\nthey should have any allegiance in them, being\nchosen for the prince's watch.\nVERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.\nDOGBERRY First, who think you the most desertless man to be\nconstable?\nFirst Watchman Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole; for they can\nwrite and read.\nDOGBERRY Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed\nyou with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is\nthe gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.\nSecond Watchman Both which, master constable,--\nDOGBERRY You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well,\nfor your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make\nno boast of it; and for your writing and reading,\nlet that appear when there is no need of such\nvanity. You are thought here to be the most\nsenseless and fit man for the constable of the\nwatch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your\ncharge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are\nto bid any man stand, in the prince's name.\nSecond Watchman How if a' will not stand?\nDOGBERRY Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and\npresently call the rest of the watch together and\nthank God you are rid of a knave.\nVERGES If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none\nof the prince's subjects.\nDOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but the\nprince's subjects. You shall also make no noise in\nthe streets; for, for the watch to babble and to\ntalk is most tolerable and not to be endured.\nWatchman We will rather sleep than talk: we know what\nbelongs to a watch.\nDOGBERRY Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet\nwatchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should\noffend: only, have a care that your bills be not\nstolen. Well, you are to call at all the\nale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed.\nWatchman How if they will not?\nDOGBERRY Why, then, let them alone till they are sober: if\nthey make you not then the better answer, you may\nsay they are not the men you took them for.\nWatchman Well, sir.\nDOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue\nof your office, to be no true man; and, for such\nkind of men, the less you meddle or make with them,\nwhy the more is for your honesty.\nWatchman If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay\nhands on him?\nDOGBERRY Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they\nthat touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable\nway for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him\nshow himself what he is and steal out of your company.\nVERGES You have been always called a merciful man, partner.\nDOGBERRY Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more\na man who hath any honesty in him.\nVERGES If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call\nto the nurse and bid her still it.\nWatchman How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?\nDOGBERRY Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake\nher with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her\nlamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats.\nVERGES 'Tis very true.\nDOGBERRY This is the end of the charge:--you, constable, are\nto present the prince's own person: if you meet the\nprince in the night, you may stay him.\nVERGES Nay, by'r our lady, that I think a' cannot.\nDOGBERRY Five shillings to one on't, with any man that knows\nthe statutes, he may stay him: marry, not without\nthe prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought\nto offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a\nman against his will.\nVERGES By'r lady, I think it be so.\nDOGBERRY Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be\nany matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your\nfellows' counsels and your own; and good night.\nCome, neighbour.\nWatchman Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here\nupon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.\nDOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch\nabout Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being\nthere to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night.\nAdieu: be vigitant, I beseech you.\n[Exeunt DOGBERRY and VERGES]\n[Enter BORACHIO and CONRADE]\nBORACHIO What Conrade!\nWatchman [Aside] Peace! stir not.\nBORACHIO Conrade, I say!\nCONRADE Here, man; I am at thy elbow.\nBORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a\nscab follow.\nCONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward\nwith thy tale.\nBORACHIO Stand thee close, then, under this pent-house, for\nit drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard,\nutter all to thee.\nWatchman [Aside] Some treason, masters: yet stand close.\nBORACHIO Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats.\nCONRADE Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?\nBORACHIO Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any\nvillany should be so rich; for when rich villains\nhave need of poor ones, poor ones may make what\nprice they will.\nCONRADE I wonder at it.\nBORACHIO That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that\nthe fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is\nnothing to a man.\nCONRADE Yes, it is apparel.\nBORACHIO I mean, the fashion.\nCONRADE Yes, the fashion is the fashion.\nBORACHIO Tush! I may as well say the fool's the fool. But\nseest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion\nis?\nWatchman [Aside] I know that Deformed; a' has been a vile\nthief this seven year; a' goes up and down like a\ngentleman: I remember his name.\nBORACHIO Didst thou not hear somebody?\nCONRADE No; 'twas the vane on the house.\nBORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this\nfashion is? how giddily a' turns about all the hot\nbloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty?\nsometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers\nin the reeky painting, sometime like god Bel's\npriests in the old church-window, sometime like the\nshaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry,\nwhere his codpiece seems as massy as his club?\nCONRADE All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears\nout more apparel than the man. But art not thou\nthyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast\nshifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?\nBORACHIO Not so, neither: but know that I have to-night\nwooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the\nname of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress'\nchamber-window, bids me a thousand times good\nnight,--I tell this tale vilely:--I should first\ntell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master,\nplanted and placed and possessed by my master Don\nJohn, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter.\nCONRADE And thought they Margaret was Hero?\nBORACHIO Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but the\ndevil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly\nby his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by\nthe dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly\nby my villany, which did confirm any slander that\nDon John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore\nhe would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning\nat the temple, and there, before the whole\ncongregation, shame her with what he saw o'er night\nand send her home again without a husband.\nFirst Watchman We charge you, in the prince's name, stand!\nSecond Watchman Call up the right master constable. We have here\nrecovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that\never was known in the commonwealth.\nFirst Watchman And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; a'\nwears a lock.\nCONRADE Masters, masters,--\nSecond Watchman You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.\nCONRADE Masters,--\nFirst Watchman Never speak: we charge you let us obey you to go with us.\nBORACHIO We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken\nup of these men's bills.\nCONRADE A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT III\nSCENE IV HERO's apartment.\n[Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA]\nHERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire\nher to rise.\nURSULA I will, lady.\nHERO And bid her come hither.\nURSULA Well.\n[Exit]\nMARGARET Troth, I think your other rabato were better.\nHERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.\nMARGARET By my troth, 's not so good; and I warrant your\ncousin will say so.\nHERO My cousin's a fool, and thou art another: I'll wear\nnone but this.\nMARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair\nwere a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare\nfashion, i' faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan's\ngown that they praise so.\nHERO O, that exceeds, they say.\nMARGARET By my troth, 's but a night-gown in respect of\nyours: cloth o' gold, and cuts, and laced with\nsilver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves,\nand skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel:\nbut for a fine, quaint, graceful and excellent\nfashion, yours is worth ten on 't.\nHERO God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is\nexceeding heavy.\nMARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.\nHERO Fie upon thee! art not ashamed?\nMARGARET Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not\nmarriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord\nhonourable without marriage? I think you would have\nme say, 'saving your reverence, a husband:' and bad\nthinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend\nnobody: is there any harm in 'the heavier for a\nhusband'? None, I think, and it be the right husband\nand the right wife; otherwise 'tis light, and not\nheavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes.\n[Enter BEATRICE]\nHERO Good morrow, coz.\nBEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero.\nHERO Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune?\nBEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks.\nMARGARET Clap's into 'Light o' love;' that goes without a\nburden: do you sing it, and I'll dance it.\nBEATRICE Ye light o' love, with your heels! then, if your\nhusband have stables enough, you'll see he shall\nlack no barns.\nMARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.\nBEATRICE 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; tis time you were\nready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho!\nMARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?\nBEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H.\nMARGARET Well, and you be not turned Turk, there's no more\nsailing by the star.\nBEATRICE What means the fool, trow?\nMARGARET Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!\nHERO These gloves the count sent me; they are an\nexcellent perfume.\nBEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell.\nMARGARET A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold.\nBEATRICE O, God help me! God help me! how long have you\nprofessed apprehension?\nMARGARET Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?\nBEATRICE It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your\ncap. By my troth, I am sick.\nMARGARET Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus,\nand lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm.\nHERO There thou prickest her with a thistle.\nBEATRICE Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in\nthis Benedictus.\nMARGARET Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I\nmeant, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance\nthat I think you are in love: nay, by'r lady, I am\nnot such a fool to think what I list, nor I list\nnot to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot think,\nif I would think my heart out of thinking, that you\nare in love or that you will be in love or that you\ncan be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and\nnow is he become a man: he swore he would never\nmarry, and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats\nhis meat without grudging: and how you may be\nconverted I know not, but methinks you look with\nyour eyes as other women do.\nBEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?\nMARGARET Not a false gallop.\n[Re-enter URSULA]\nURSULA Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, Signior\nBenedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the\ntown, are come to fetch you to church.\nHERO Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT III\nSCENE V Another room in LEONATO'S house.\n[Enter LEONATO, with DOGBERRY and VERGES]\nLEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbour?\nDOGBERRY Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you\nthat decerns you nearly.\nLEONATO Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me.\nDOGBERRY Marry, this it is, sir.\nVERGES Yes, in truth it is, sir.\nLEONATO What is it, my good friends?\nDOGBERRY Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the\nmatter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so\nblunt as, God help, I would desire they were; but,\nin faith, honest as the skin between his brows.\nVERGES Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living\nthat is an old man and no honester than I.\nDOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges.\nLEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious.\nDOGBERRY It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the\npoor duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part,\nif I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in\nmy heart to bestow it all of your worship.\nLEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ah?\nDOGBERRY Yea, an 'twere a thousand pound more than 'tis; for\nI hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any\nman in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I\nam glad to hear it.\nVERGES And so am I.\nLEONATO I would fain know what you have to say.\nVERGES Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your\nworship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant\nknaves as any in Messina.\nDOGBERRY A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they\nsay, when the age is in, the wit is out: God help\nus! it is a world to see. Well said, i' faith,\nneighbour Verges: well, God's a good man; an two men\nride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest\nsoul, i' faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever\nbroke bread; but God is to be worshipped; all men\nare not alike; alas, good neighbour!\nLEONATO Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.\nDOGBERRY Gifts that God gives.\nLEONATO I must leave you.\nDOGBERRY One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed\ncomprehended two aspicious persons, and we would\nhave them this morning examined before your worship.\nLEONATO Take their examination yourself and bring it me: I\nam now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.\nDOGBERRY It shall be suffigance.\nLEONATO Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well.\n[Enter a Messenger]\nMessenger My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to\nher husband.\nLEONATO I'll wait upon them: I am ready.\n[Exeunt LEONATO and Messenger]\nDOGBERRY Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole;\nbid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we\nare now to examination these men.\nVERGES And we must do it wisely.\nDOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here's\nthat shall drive some of them to a non-come: only\nget the learned writer to set down our\nexcommunication and meet me at the gaol.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT IV\nSCENE I A church.\n[Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, FRIAR FRANCIS,\nCLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and Attendants]\nLEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain\nform of marriage, and you shall recount their\nparticular duties afterwards.\nFRIAR FRANCIS You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.\nCLAUDIO No.\nLEONATO To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her.\nFRIAR FRANCIS Lady, you come hither to be married to this count.\nHERO I do.\nFRIAR FRANCIS If either of you know any inward impediment why you\nshould not be conjoined, charge you, on your souls,\nto utter it.\nCLAUDIO Know you any, Hero?\nHERO None, my lord.\nFRIAR FRANCIS Know you any, count?\nLEONATO I dare make his answer, none.\nCLAUDIO O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily\ndo, not knowing what they do!\nBENEDICK How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of\nlaughing, as, ah, ha, he!\nCLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave:\nWill you with free and unconstrained soul\nGive me this maid, your daughter?\nLEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me.\nCLAUDIO And what have I to give you back, whose worth\nMay counterpoise this rich and precious gift?\nDON PEDRO Nothing, unless you render her again.\nCLAUDIO Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.\nThere, Leonato, take her back again:\nGive not this rotten orange to your friend;\nShe's but the sign and semblance of her honour.\nBehold how like a maid she blushes here!\nO, what authority and show of truth\nCan cunning sin cover itself withal!\nComes not that blood as modest evidence\nTo witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,\nAll you that see her, that she were a maid,\nBy these exterior shows? But she is none:\nShe knows the heat of a luxurious bed;\nHer blush is guiltiness, not modesty.\nLEONATO What do you mean, my lord?\nCLAUDIO Not to be married,\nNot to knit my soul to an approved wanton.\nLEONATO Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,\nHave vanquish'd the resistance of her youth,\nAnd made defeat of her virginity,--\nCLAUDIO I know what you would say: if I have known her,\nYou will say she did embrace me as a husband,\nAnd so extenuate the 'forehand sin:\nNo, Leonato,\nI never tempted her with word too large;\nBut, as a brother to his sister, show'd\nBashful sincerity and comely love.\nHERO And seem'd I ever otherwise to you?\nCLAUDIO Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it:\nYou seem to me as Dian in her orb,\nAs chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;\nBut you are more intemperate in your blood\nThan Venus, or those pamper'd animals\nThat rage in savage sensuality.\nHERO Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide?\nLEONATO Sweet prince, why speak not you?\nDON PEDRO What should I speak?\nI stand dishonour'd, that have gone about\nTo link my dear friend to a common stale.\nLEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?\nDON JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.\nBENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial.\nHERO True! O God!\nCLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here?\nIs this the prince? is this the prince's brother?\nIs this face Hero's? are our eyes our own?\nLEONATO All this is so: but what of this, my lord?\nCLAUDIO Let me but move one question to your daughter;\nAnd, by that fatherly and kindly power\nThat you have in her, bid her answer truly.\nLEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.\nHERO O, God defend me! how am I beset!\nWhat kind of catechising call you this?\nCLAUDIO To make you answer truly to your name.\nHERO Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name\nWith any just reproach?\nCLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero;\nHero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.\nWhat man was he talk'd with you yesternight\nOut at your window betwixt twelve and one?\nNow, if you are a maid, answer to this.\nHERO I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord.\nDON PEDRO Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato,\nI am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour,\nMyself, my brother and this grieved count\nDid see her, hear her, at that hour last night\nTalk with a ruffian at her chamber-window\nWho hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,\nConfess'd the vile encounters they have had\nA thousand times in secret.\nDON JOHN Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord,\nNot to be spoke of;\nThere is not chastity enough in language\nWithout offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,\nI am sorry for thy much misgovernment.\nCLAUDIO O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been,\nIf half thy outward graces had been placed\nAbout thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!\nBut fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,\nThou pure impiety and impious purity!\nFor thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,\nAnd on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,\nTo turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,\nAnd never shall it more be gracious.\nLEONATO Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?\n[HERO swoons]\nBEATRICE Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down?\nDON JOHN Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light,\nSmother her spirits up.\n[Exeunt DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, and CLAUDIO]\nBENEDICK How doth the lady?\nBEATRICE Dead, I think. Help, uncle!\nHero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!\nLEONATO O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand.\nDeath is the fairest cover for her shame\nThat may be wish'd for.\nBEATRICE How now, cousin Hero!\nFRIAR FRANCIS Have comfort, lady.\nLEONATO Dost thou look up?\nFRIAR FRANCIS Yea, wherefore should she not?\nLEONATO Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing\nCry shame upon her? Could she here deny\nThe story that is printed in her blood?\nDo not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:\nFor, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,\nThought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,\nMyself would, on the rearward of reproaches,\nStrike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one?\nChid I for that at frugal nature's frame?\nO, one too much by thee! Why had I one?\nWhy ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?\nWhy had I not with charitable hand\nTook up a beggar's issue at my gates,\nWho smirch'd thus and mired with infamy,\nI might have said 'No part of it is mine;\nThis shame derives itself from unknown loins'?\nBut mine and mine I loved and mine I praised\nAnd mine that I was proud on, mine so much\nThat I myself was to myself not mine,\nValuing of her,--why, she, O, she is fallen\nInto a pit of ink, that the wide sea\nHath drops too few to wash her clean again\nAnd salt too little which may season give\nTo her foul-tainted flesh!\nBENEDICK Sir, sir, be patient.\nFor my part, I am so attired in wonder,\nI know not what to say.\nBEATRICE O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!\nBENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?\nBEATRICE No, truly not; although, until last night,\nI have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.\nLEONATO Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made\nWhich was before barr'd up with ribs of iron!\nWould the two princes lie, and Claudio lie,\nWho loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness,\nWash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die.\nFRIAR FRANCIS Hear me a little; for I have only been\nSilent so long and given way unto\nThis course of fortune [ ]\nBy noting of the lady I have mark'd\nA thousand blushing apparitions\nTo start into her face, a thousand innocent shames\nIn angel whiteness beat away those blushes;\nAnd in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,\nTo burn the errors that these princes hold\nAgainst her maiden truth. Call me a fool;\nTrust not my reading nor my observations,\nWhich with experimental seal doth warrant\nThe tenor of my book; trust not my age,\nMy reverence, calling, nor divinity,\nIf this sweet lady lie not guiltless here\nUnder some biting error.\nLEONATO Friar, it cannot be.\nThou seest that all the grace that she hath left\nIs that she will not add to her damnation\nA sin of perjury; she not denies it:\nWhy seek'st thou then to cover with excuse\nThat which appears in proper nakedness?\nFRIAR FRANCIS Lady, what man is he you are accused of?\nHERO They know that do accuse me; I know none:\nIf I know more of any man alive\nThan that which maiden modesty doth warrant,\nLet all my sins lack mercy! O my father,\nProve you that any man with me conversed\nAt hours unmeet, or that I yesternight\nMaintain'd the change of words with any creature,\nRefuse me, hate me, torture me to death!\nFRIAR FRANCIS There is some strange misprision in the princes.\nBENEDICK Two of them have the very bent of honour;\nAnd if their wisdoms be misled in this,\nThe practise of it lives in John the bastard,\nWhose spirits toil in frame of villanies.\nLEONATO I know not. If they speak but truth of her,\nThese hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour,\nThe proudest of them shall well hear of it.\nTime hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,\nNor age so eat up my invention,\nNor fortune made such havoc of my means,\nNor my bad life reft me so much of friends,\nBut they shall find, awaked in such a kind,\nBoth strength of limb and policy of mind,\nAbility in means and choice of friends,\nTo quit me of them throughly.\nFRIAR FRANCIS Pause awhile,\nAnd let my counsel sway you in this case.\nYour daughter here the princes left for dead:\nLet her awhile be secretly kept in,\nAnd publish it that she is dead indeed;\nMaintain a mourning ostentation\nAnd on your family's old monument\nHang mournful epitaphs and do all rites\nThat appertain unto a burial.\nLEONATO What shall become of this? what will this do?\nFRIAR FRANCIS Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf\nChange slander to remorse; that is some good:\nBut not for that dream I on this strange course,\nBut on this travail look for greater birth.\nShe dying, as it must so be maintain'd,\nUpon the instant that she was accused,\nShall be lamented, pitied and excused\nOf every hearer: for it so falls out\nThat what we have we prize not to the worth\nWhiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost,\nWhy, then we rack the value, then we find\nThe virtue that possession would not show us\nWhiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio:\nWhen he shall hear she died upon his words,\nThe idea of her life shall sweetly creep\nInto his study of imagination,\nAnd every lovely organ of her life\nShall come apparell'd in more precious habit,\nMore moving-delicate and full of life,\nInto the eye and prospect of his soul,\nThan when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn,\nIf ever love had interest in his liver,\nAnd wish he had not so accused her,\nNo, though he thought his accusation true.\nLet this be so, and doubt not but success\nWill fashion the event in better shape\nThan I can lay it down in likelihood.\nBut if all aim but this be levell'd false,\nThe supposition of the lady's death\nWill quench the wonder of her infamy:\nAnd if it sort not well, you may conceal her,\nAs best befits her wounded reputation,\nIn some reclusive and religious life,\nOut of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries.\nBENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you:\nAnd though you know my inwardness and love\nIs very much unto the prince and Claudio,\nYet, by mine honour, I will deal in this\nAs secretly and justly as your soul\nShould with your body.\nLEONATO Being that I flow in grief,\nThe smallest twine may lead me.\nFRIAR FRANCIS 'Tis well consented: presently away;\nFor to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.\nCome, lady, die to live: this wedding-day\nPerhaps is but prolong'd: have patience and endure.\n[Exeunt all but BENEDICK and BEATRICE]\nBENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?\nBEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer.\nBENEDICK I will not desire that.\nBEATRICE You have no reason; I do it freely.\nBENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.\nBEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!\nBENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship?\nBEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend.\nBENEDICK May a man do it?\nBEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours.\nBENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is\nnot that strange?\nBEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not. It were as\npossible for me to say I loved nothing so well as\nyou: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I\nconfess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.\nBENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.\nBEATRICE Do not swear, and eat it.\nBENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make\nhim eat it that says I love not you.\nBEATRICE Will you not eat your word?\nBENEDICK With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest\nI love thee.\nBEATRICE Why, then, God forgive me!\nBENEDICK What offence, sweet Beatrice?\nBEATRICE You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to\nprotest I loved you.\nBENEDICK And do it with all thy heart.\nBEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart that none is\nleft to protest.\nBENEDICK Come, bid me do any thing for thee.\nBEATRICE Kill Claudio.\nBENEDICK Ha! not for the wide world.\nBEATRICE You kill me to deny it. Farewell.\nBENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice.\nBEATRICE I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in\nyou: nay, I pray you, let me go.\nBENEDICK Beatrice,--\nBEATRICE In faith, I will go.\nBENEDICK We'll be friends first.\nBEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.\nBENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy?\nBEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain, that\nhath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O\nthat I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they\ncome to take hands; and then, with public\naccusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,\n--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart\nin the market-place.\nBENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice,--\nBEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!\nBENEDICK Nay, but, Beatrice,--\nBEATRICE Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.\nBENEDICK Beat--\nBEATRICE Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony,\na goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant,\nsurely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I\nhad any friend would be a man for my sake! But\nmanhood is melted into courtesies, valour into\ncompliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and\ntrim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules\nthat only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a\nman with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.\nBENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.\nBEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.\nBENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?\nBEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.\nBENEDICK Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will\nkiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand,\nClaudio shall render me a dear account. As you\nhear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your\ncousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT IV\nSCENE II A prison.\n[Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Sexton, in gowns; and\nthe Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO]\nDOGBERRY Is our whole dissembly appeared?\nVERGES O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.\nSexton Which be the malefactors?\nDOGBERRY Marry, that am I and my partner.\nVERGES Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibition to examine.\nSexton But which are the offenders that are to be\nexamined? let them come before master constable.\nDOGBERRY Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your\nname, friend?\nBORACHIO Borachio.\nDOGBERRY Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?\nCONRADE I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.\nDOGBERRY Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do\nyou serve God?\nCONRADE |\n| Yea, sir, we hope.\nBORACHIO |\nDOGBERRY Write down, that they hope they serve God: and\nwrite God first; for God defend but God should go\nbefore such villains! Masters, it is proved already\nthat you are little better than false knaves; and it\nwill go near to be thought so shortly. How answer\nyou for yourselves?\nCONRADE Marry, sir, we say we are none.\nDOGBERRY A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you: but I\nwill go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a\nword in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought\nyou are false knaves.\nBORACHIO Sir, I say to you we are none.\nDOGBERRY Well, stand aside. 'Fore God, they are both in a\ntale. Have you writ down, that they are none?\nSexton Master constable, you go not the way to examine:\nyou must call forth the watch that are their accusers.\nDOGBERRY Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch\ncome forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince's\nname, accuse these men.\nFirst Watchman This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's\nbrother, was a villain.\nDOGBERRY Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat\nperjury, to call a prince's brother villain.\nBORACHIO Master constable,--\nDOGBERRY Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look,\nI promise thee.\nSexton What heard you him say else?\nSecond Watchman Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of\nDon John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.\nDOGBERRY Flat burglary as ever was committed.\nVERGES Yea, by mass, that it is.\nSexton What else, fellow?\nFirst Watchman And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to\ndisgrace Hero before the whole assembly. and not marry her.\nDOGBERRY O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting\nredemption for this.\nSexton What else?\nWatchman This is all.\nSexton And this is more, masters, than you can deny.\nPrince John is this morning secretly stolen away;\nHero was in this manner accused, in this very manner\nrefused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died.\nMaster constable, let these men be bound, and\nbrought to Leonato's: I will go before and show\nhim their examination.\n[Exit]\nDOGBERRY Come, let them be opinioned.\nVERGES Let them be in the hands--\nCONRADE Off, coxcomb!\nDOGBERRY God's my life, where's the sexton? let him write\ndown the prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.\nThou naughty varlet!\nCONRADE Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.\nDOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not\nsuspect my years? O that he were here to write me\ndown an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an\nass; though it be not written down, yet forget not\nthat I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of\npiety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness.\nI am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer,\nand, which is more, a householder, and, which is\nmore, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in\nMessina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a\nrich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath\nhad losses, and one that hath two gowns and every\nthing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that\nI had been writ down an ass!\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT V\nSCENE I Before LEONATO'S house.\n[Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO]\nANTONIO If you go on thus, you will kill yourself:\nAnd 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief\nAgainst yourself.\nLEONATO I pray thee, cease thy counsel,\nWhich falls into mine ears as profitless\nAs water in a sieve: give not me counsel;\nNor let no comforter delight mine ear\nBut such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.\nBring me a father that so loved his child,\nWhose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,\nAnd bid him speak of patience;\nMeasure his woe the length and breadth of mine\nAnd let it answer every strain for strain,\nAs thus for thus and such a grief for such,\nIn every lineament, branch, shape, and form:\nIf such a one will smile and stroke his beard,\nBid sorrow wag, cry 'hem!' when he should groan,\nPatch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk\nWith candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,\nAnd I of him will gather patience.\nBut there is no such man: for, brother, men\nCan counsel and speak comfort to that grief\nWhich they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,\nTheir counsel turns to passion, which before\nWould give preceptial medicine to rage,\nFetter strong madness in a silken thread,\nCharm ache with air and agony with words:\nNo, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience\nTo those that wring under the load of sorrow,\nBut no man's virtue nor sufficiency\nTo be so moral when he shall endure\nThe like himself. Therefore give me no counsel:\nMy griefs cry louder than advertisement.\nANTONIO Therein do men from children nothing differ.\nLEONATO I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood;\nFor there was never yet philosopher\nThat could endure the toothache patiently,\nHowever they have writ the style of gods\nAnd made a push at chance and sufferance.\nANTONIO Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself;\nMake those that do offend you suffer too.\nLEONATO There thou speak'st reason: nay, I will do so.\nMy soul doth tell me Hero is belied;\nAnd that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince\nAnd all of them that thus dishonour her.\nANTONIO Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily.\n[Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO]\nDON PEDRO Good den, good den.\nCLAUDIO Good day to both of you.\nLEONATO Hear you. my lords,--\nDON PEDRO We have some haste, Leonato.\nLEONATO Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord:\nAre you so hasty now? well, all is one.\nDON PEDRO Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.\nANTONIO If he could right himself with quarreling,\nSome of us would lie low.\nCLAUDIO Who wrongs him?\nLEONATO Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou:--\nNay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword;\nI fear thee not.\nCLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand,\nIf it should give your age such cause of fear:\nIn faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.\nLEONATO Tush, tush, man; never fleer and jest at me:\nI speak not like a dotard nor a fool,\nAs under privilege of age to brag\nWhat I have done being young, or what would do\nWere I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,\nThou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me\nThat I am forced to lay my reverence by\nAnd, with grey hairs and bruise of many days,\nDo challenge thee to trial of a man.\nI say thou hast belied mine innocent child;\nThy slander hath gone through and through her heart,\nAnd she lies buried with her ancestors;\nO, in a tomb where never scandal slept,\nSave this of hers, framed by thy villany!\nCLAUDIO My villany?\nLEONATO Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.\nDON PEDRO You say not right, old man.\nLEONATO My lord, my lord,\nI'll prove it on his body, if he dare,\nDespite his nice fence and his active practise,\nHis May of youth and bloom of lustihood.\nCLAUDIO Away! I will not have to do with you.\nLEONATO Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill'd my child:\nIf thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.\nANTONIO He shall kill two of us, and men indeed:\nBut that's no matter; let him kill one first;\nWin me and wear me; let him answer me.\nCome, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me:\nSir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence;\nNay, as I am a gentleman, I will.\nLEONATO Brother,--\nANTONIO Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece;\nAnd she is dead, slander'd to death by villains,\nThat dare as well answer a man indeed\nAs I dare take a serpent by the tongue:\nBoys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!\nLEONATO Brother Antony,--\nANTONIO Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea,\nAnd what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,--\nScrambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys,\nThat lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander,\nGo anticly, show outward hideousness,\nAnd speak off half a dozen dangerous words,\nHow they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;\nAnd this is all.\nLEONATO But, brother Antony,--\nANTONIO Come, 'tis no matter:\nDo not you meddle; let me deal in this.\nDON PEDRO Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.\nMy heart is sorry for your daughter's death:\nBut, on my honour, she was charged with nothing\nBut what was true and very full of proof.\nLEONATO My lord, my lord,--\nDON PEDRO I will not hear you.\nLEONATO No? Come, brother; away! I will be heard.\nANTONIO And shall, or some of us will smart for it.\n[Exeunt LEONATO and ANTONIO]\nDON PEDRO See, see; here comes the man we went to seek.\n[Enter BENEDICK]\nCLAUDIO Now, signior, what news?\nBENEDICK Good day, my lord.\nDON PEDRO Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part\nalmost a fray.\nCLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses snapped off\nwith two old men without teeth.\nDON PEDRO Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had\nwe fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.\nBENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came\nto seek you both.\nCLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are\nhigh-proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten\naway. Wilt thou use thy wit?\nBENEDICK It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it?\nDON PEDRO Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?\nCLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have been beside\ntheir wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the\nminstrels; draw, to pleasure us.\nDON PEDRO As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou\nsick, or angry?\nCLAUDIO What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat,\nthou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.\nBENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you\ncharge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.\nCLAUDIO Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was\nbroke cross.\nDON PEDRO By this light, he changes more and more: I think\nhe be angry indeed.\nCLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.\nBENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear?\nCLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge!\nBENEDICK [Aside to CLAUDIO] You are a villain; I jest not:\nI will make it good how you dare, with what you\ndare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will\nprotest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet\nlady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me\nhear from you.\nCLAUDIO Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.\nDON PEDRO What, a feast, a feast?\nCLAUDIO I' faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf's\nhead and a capon; the which if I do not carve most\ncuriously, say my knife's naught. Shall I not find\na woodcock too?\nBENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.\nDON PEDRO I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the\nother day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: 'True,'\nsaid she, 'a fine little one.' 'No,' said I, 'a\ngreat wit:' 'Right,' says she, 'a great gross one.'\n'Nay,' said I, 'a good wit:' 'Just,' said she, 'it\nhurts nobody.' 'Nay,' said I, 'the gentleman\nis wise:' 'Certain,' said she, 'a wise gentleman.'\n'Nay,' said I, 'he hath the tongues:' 'That I\nbelieve,' said she, 'for he swore a thing to me on\nMonday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning;\nthere's a double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus\ndid she, an hour together, transshape thy particular\nvirtues: yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou\nwast the properest man in Italy.\nCLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily and said she cared\nnot.\nDON PEDRO Yea, that she did: but yet, for all that, an if she\ndid not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly:\nthe old man's daughter told us all.\nCLAUDIO All, all; and, moreover, God saw him when he was\nhid in the garden.\nDON PEDRO But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on\nthe sensible Benedick's head?\nCLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath, 'Here dwells Benedick the\nmarried man'?\nBENEDICK Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave\nyou now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests\nas braggarts do their blades, which God be thanked,\nhurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank\nyou: I must discontinue your company: your brother\nthe bastard is fled from Messina: you have among\nyou killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord\nLackbeard there, he and I shall meet: and, till\nthen, peace be with him.\n[Exit]\nDON PEDRO He is in earnest.\nCLAUDIO In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant you, for\nthe love of Beatrice.\nDON PEDRO And hath challenged thee.\nCLAUDIO Most sincerely.\nDON PEDRO What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his\ndoublet and hose and leaves off his wit!\nCLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a\ndoctor to such a man.\nDON PEDRO But, soft you, let me be: pluck up, my heart, and\nbe sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled?\n[Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, with CONRADE\nand BORACHIO]\nDOGBERRY Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she\nshall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay,\nan you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.\nDON PEDRO How now? two of my brother's men bound! Borachio\none!\nCLAUDIO Hearken after their offence, my lord.\nDON PEDRO Officers, what offence have these men done?\nDOGBERRY Marry, sir, they have committed false report;\nmoreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily,\nthey are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have\nbelied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust\nthings; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.\nDON PEDRO First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I\nask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why\nthey are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay\nto their charge.\nCLAUDIO Rightly reasoned, and in his own division: and, by\nmy troth, there's one meaning well suited.\nDON PEDRO Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus\nbound to your answer? this learned constable is\ntoo cunning to be understood: what's your offence?\nBORACHIO Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer:\ndo you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have\ndeceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms\ncould not discover, these shallow fools have brought\nto light: who in the night overheard me confessing\nto this man how Don John your brother incensed me\nto slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into\nthe orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero's\ngarments, how you disgraced her, when you should\nmarry her: my villany they have upon record; which\nI had rather seal with my death than repeat over\nto my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my\nmaster's false accusation; and, briefly, I desire\nnothing but the reward of a villain.\nDON PEDRO Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?\nCLAUDIO I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it.\nDON PEDRO But did my brother set thee on to this?\nBORACHIO Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it.\nDON PEDRO He is composed and framed of treachery:\nAnd fled he is upon this villany.\nCLAUDIO Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear\nIn the rare semblance that I loved it first.\nDOGBERRY Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our\nsexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter:\nand, masters, do not forget to specify, when time\nand place shall serve, that I am an ass.\nVERGES Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the\nSexton too.\n[Re-enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, with the Sexton]\nLEONATO Which is the villain? let me see his eyes,\nThat, when I note another man like him,\nI may avoid him: which of these is he?\nBORACHIO If you would know your wronger, look on me.\nLEONATO Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd\nMine innocent child?\nBORACHIO Yea, even I alone.\nLEONATO No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself:\nHere stand a pair of honourable men;\nA third is fled, that had a hand in it.\nI thank you, princes, for my daughter's death:\nRecord it with your high and worthy deeds:\n'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.\nCLAUDIO I know not how to pray your patience;\nYet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself;\nImpose me to what penance your invention\nCan lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not\nBut in mistaking.\nDON PEDRO By my soul, nor I:\nAnd yet, to satisfy this good old man,\nI would bend under any heavy weight\nThat he'll enjoin me to.\nLEONATO I cannot bid you bid my daughter live;\nThat were impossible: but, I pray you both,\nPossess the people in Messina here\nHow innocent she died; and if your love\nCan labour ought in sad invention,\nHang her an epitaph upon her tomb\nAnd sing it to her bones, sing it to-night:\nTo-morrow morning come you to my house,\nAnd since you could not be my son-in-law,\nBe yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter,\nAlmost the copy of my child that's dead,\nAnd she alone is heir to both of us:\nGive her the right you should have given her cousin,\nAnd so dies my revenge.\nCLAUDIO O noble sir,\nYour over-kindness doth wring tears from me!\nI do embrace your offer; and dispose\nFor henceforth of poor Claudio.\nLEONATO To-morrow then I will expect your coming;\nTo-night I take my leave. This naughty man\nShall face to face be brought to Margaret,\nWho I believe was pack'd in all this wrong,\nHired to it by your brother.\nBORACHIO No, by my soul, she was not,\nNor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,\nBut always hath been just and virtuous\nIn any thing that I do know by her.\nDOGBERRY Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and\nblack, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call\nme ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his\npunishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of\none Deformed: they say be wears a key in his ear and\na lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's\nname, the which he hath used so long and never paid\nthat now men grow hard-hearted and will lend nothing\nfor God's sake: pray you, examine him upon that point.\nLEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.\nDOGBERRY Your worship speaks like a most thankful and\nreverend youth; and I praise God for you.\nLEONATO There's for thy pains.\nDOGBERRY God save the foundation!\nLEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.\nDOGBERRY I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I\nbeseech your worship to correct yourself, for the\nexample of others. God keep your worship! I wish\nyour worship well; God restore you to health! I\nhumbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry\nmeeting may be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.\n[Exeunt DOGBERRY and VERGES]\nLEONATO Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.\nANTONIO Farewell, my lords: we look for you to-morrow.\nDON PEDRO We will not fail.\nCLAUDIO To-night I'll mourn with Hero.\nLEONATO [To the Watch] Bring you these fellows on. We'll\ntalk with Margaret,\nHow her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.\n[Exeunt, severally]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT V\nSCENE II LEONATO'S garden.\n[Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting]\nBENEDICK Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at\nmy hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.\nMARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?\nBENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living\nshall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou\ndeservest it.\nMARGARET To have no man come over me! why, shall I always\nkeep below stairs?\nBENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth; it catches.\nMARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit,\nbut hurt not.\nBENEDICK A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a\nwoman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give\nthee the bucklers.\nMARGARET Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.\nBENEDICK If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the\npikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids.\nMARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.\nBENEDICK And therefore will come.\n[Exit MARGARET]\n[Sings]\nThe god of love,\nThat sits above,\nAnd knows me, and knows me,\nHow pitiful I deserve,--\nI mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good\nswimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and\na whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mangers,\nwhose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a\nblank verse, why, they were never so truly turned\nover and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I\ncannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find\nout no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby,' an innocent\nrhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn,' a hard rhyme; for,\n'school,' 'fool,' a babbling rhyme; very ominous\nendings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet,\nnor I cannot woo in festival terms.\n[Enter BEATRICE]\nSweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?\nBEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.\nBENEDICK O, stay but till then!\nBEATRICE 'Then' is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere\nI go, let me go with that I came; which is, with\nknowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.\nBENEDICK Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.\nBEATRICE Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but\nfoul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I\nwill depart unkissed.\nBENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense,\nso forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee\nplainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either\nI must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe\nhim a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for\nwhich of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?\nBEATRICE For them all together; which maintained so politic\na state of evil that they will not admit any good\npart to intermingle with them. But for which of my\ngood parts did you first suffer love for me?\nBENEDICK Suffer love! a good epithet! I do suffer love\nindeed, for I love thee against my will.\nBEATRICE In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart!\nIf you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for\nyours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.\nBENEDICK Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.\nBEATRICE It appears not in this confession: there's not one\nwise man among twenty that will praise himself.\nBENEDICK An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in\nthe lime of good neighbours. If a man do not erect\nin this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live\nno longer in monument than the bell rings and the\nwidow weeps.\nBEATRICE And how long is that, think you?\nBENEDICK Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in\nrheum: therefore is it most expedient for the\nwise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no\nimpediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his\nown virtues, as I am to myself. So much for\npraising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is\npraiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin?\nBEATRICE Very ill.\nBENEDICK And how do you?\nBEATRICE Very ill too.\nBENEDICK Serve God, love me and mend. There will I leave\nyou too, for here comes one in haste.\n[Enter URSULA]\nURSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old\ncoil at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been\nfalsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily\nabused; and Don John is the author of all, who is\nfed and gone. Will you come presently?\nBEATRICE Will you go hear this news, signior?\nBENEDICK I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be\nburied in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with\nthee to thy uncle's.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT V\nSCENE III A church.\n[Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and three or four\nwith tapers]\nCLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato?\nLord It is, my lord.\nCLAUDIO [Reading out of a scroll]\nDone to death by slanderous tongues\nWas the Hero that here lies:\nDeath, in guerdon of her wrongs,\nGives her fame which never dies.\nSo the life that died with shame\nLives in death with glorious fame.\nHang thou there upon the tomb,\nPraising her when I am dumb.\nNow, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.\nSONG.\nPardon, goddess of the night,\nThose that slew thy virgin knight;\nFor the which, with songs of woe,\nRound about her tomb they go.\nMidnight, assist our moan;\nHelp us to sigh and groan,\nHeavily, heavily:\nGraves, yawn and yield your dead,\nTill death be uttered,\nHeavily, heavily.\nCLAUDIO Now, unto thy bones good night!\nYearly will I do this rite.\nDON PEDRO Good morrow, masters; put your torches out:\nThe wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day,\nBefore the wheels of Phoebus, round about\nDapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.\nThanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well.\nCLAUDIO Good morrow, masters: each his several way.\nDON PEDRO Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;\nAnd then to Leonato's we will go.\nCLAUDIO And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's\nThan this for whom we render'd up this woe.\n[Exeunt]\nMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING\nACT V\nSCENE IV A room in LEONATO'S house.\n[Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE,\nMARGARET, URSULA, FRIAR FRANCIS, and HERO]\nFRIAR FRANCIS Did I not tell you she was innocent?\nLEONATO So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her\nUpon the error that you heard debated:\nBut Margaret was in some fault for this,\nAlthough against her will, as it appears\nIn the true course of all the question.\nANTONIO Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.\nBENEDICK And so am I, being else by faith enforced\nTo call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.\nLEONATO Well, daughter, and you gentle-women all,\nWithdraw into a chamber by yourselves,\nAnd when I send for you, come hither mask'd.\n[Exeunt Ladies]\nThe prince and Claudio promised by this hour\nTo visit me. You know your office, brother:\nYou must be father to your brother's daughter\nAnd give her to young Claudio.\nANTONIO Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.\nBENEDICK Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.\nFRIAR FRANCIS To do what, signior?\nBENEDICK To bind me, or undo me; one of them.\nSignior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,\nYour niece regards me with an eye of favour.\nLEONATO That eye my daughter lent her: 'tis most true.\nBENEDICK And I do with an eye of love requite her.\nLEONATO The sight whereof I think you had from me,\nFrom Claudio and the prince: but what's your will?\nBENEDICK Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:\nBut, for my will, my will is your good will\nMay stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd\nIn the state of honourable marriage:\nIn which, good friar, I shall desire your help.\nLEONATO My heart is with your liking.\nFRIAR FRANCIS And my help.\nHere comes the prince and Claudio.\n[Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO, and two or\nthree others]\nDON PEDRO Good morrow to this fair assembly.\nLEONATO Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio:\nWe here attend you. Are you yet determined\nTo-day to marry with my brother's daughter?\nCLAUDIO I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.\nLEONATO Call her forth, brother; here's the friar ready.\n[Exit ANTONIO]\nDON PEDRO Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter,\nThat you have such a February face,\nSo full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?\nCLAUDIO I think he thinks upon the savage bull.\nTush, fear not, man; we'll tip thy horns with gold\nAnd all Europa shall rejoice at thee,\nAs once Europa did at lusty Jove,\nWhen he would play the noble beast in love.\nBENEDICK Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;\nAnd some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow,\nAnd got a calf in that same noble feat\nMuch like to you, for you have just his bleat.\nCLAUDIO For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.\n[Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked]\nWhich is the lady I must seize upon?\nANTONIO This same is she, and I do give you her.\nCLAUDIO Why, then she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face.\nLEONATO No, that you shall not, till you take her hand\nBefore this friar and swear to marry her.\nCLAUDIO Give me your hand: before this holy friar,\nI am your husband, if you like of me.\nHERO And when I lived, I was your other wife:\n[Unmasking]\nAnd when you loved, you were my other husband.\nCLAUDIO Another Hero!\nHERO Nothing certainer:\nOne Hero died defiled, but I do live,\nAnd surely as I live, I am a maid.\nDON PEDRO The former Hero! Hero that is dead!\nLEONATO She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.\nFRIAR FRANCIS All this amazement can I qualify:\nWhen after that the holy rites are ended,\nI'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:\nMeantime let wonder seem familiar,\nAnd to the chapel let us presently.\nBENEDICK Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?\nBEATRICE [Unmasking] I answer to that name. What is your will?\nBENEDICK Do not you love me?\nBEATRICE Why, no; no more than reason.\nBENEDICK Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio\nHave been deceived; they swore you did.\nBEATRICE Do not you love me?\nBENEDICK Troth, no; no more than reason.\nBEATRICE Why, then my cousin Margaret and Ursula\nAre much deceived; for they did swear you did.\nBENEDICK They swore that you were almost sick for me.\nBEATRICE They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.\nBENEDICK 'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?\nBEATRICE No, truly, but in friendly recompense.\nLEONATO Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.\nCLAUDIO And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her;\nFor here's a paper written in his hand,\nA halting sonnet of his own pure brain,\nFashion'd to Beatrice.\nHERO And here's another\nWrit in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,\nContaining her affection unto Benedick.\nBENEDICK A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts.\nCome, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take\nthee for pity.\nBEATRICE I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield\nupon great persuasion; and partly to save your life,\nfor I was told you were in a consumption.\nBENEDICK Peace! I will stop your mouth.\n[Kissing her]\nDON PEDRO How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?\nBENEDICK I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of\nwit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost\nthou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No:\nif a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear\nnothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do\npurpose to marry, I will think nothing to any\npurpose that the world can say against it; and\ntherefore never flout at me for what I have said\nagainst it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my\nconclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to\nhave beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my\nkinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin.\nCLAUDIO I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice,\nthat I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single\nlife, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of\nquestion, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look\nexceedingly narrowly to thee.\nBENEDICK Come, come, we are friends: let's have a dance ere\nwe are married, that we may lighten our own hearts\nand our wives' heels.\nLEONATO We'll have dancing afterward.\nBENEDICK First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince,\nthou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife:\nthere is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.\n[Enter a Messenger]\nMessenger My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,\nAnd brought with armed men back to Messina.\nBENEDICK Think not on him till to-morrow:\nI'll devise thee brave punishments for him.\nStrike up, pipers.\n[Dance]\n[Exeunt]","title":"Much Ado About Nothing","type":"page"}