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Much Ado About Nothing
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1599
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
by William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon.
Don John, his bastard brother.
Claudio, a young lord of Florence.
Benedick, a Young lord of Padua.
Leonato, Governor of Messina.
Antonio, an old man, his brother.
Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro.
Borachio, follower of Don John.
Conrade, follower of Don John.
Friar Francis.
Dogberry, a Constable.
Verges, a Headborough.
A Sexton.
A Boy.
Hero, daughter to Leonato.
Beatrice, niece to Leonato.
Margaret, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero.
Ursula, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero.
Messengers, Watch, Attendants, etc.
<>
SCENE.--Messina.
ACT I. Scene I.
An orchard before Leonato's house.
Enter Leonato (Governor of Messina), Hero (his Daughter),
and Beatrice (his Niece), with a Messenger.
Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes
this
night to Messina.
Mess. He is very near by this. He was not three leagues off
when I
left him.
Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?
Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name.
Leon. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home
full
numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour
on
a young Florentine called Claudio.
Mess. Much deserv'd on his part, and equally rememb'red by Don
Pedro. He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age,
doing
in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion. He hath indeed
better bett'red expectation than you must expect of me to
tell
you how.
Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad
of it.
Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears
much
joy in him; even so much that joy could not show itself
modest
enough without a badge of bitterness.
Leon. Did he break out into tears?
Mess. In great measure.
Leon. A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer
than
those that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at
joy
than to joy at weeping!
Beat. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the wars
or no?
Mess. I know none of that name, lady. There was none such in
the
army of any sort.
Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?
Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
Mess. O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was.
Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid
at
the flight, and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge,
subscrib'd for Cupid and challeng'd him at the burbolt. I
pray
you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? But how
many hath he kill'd? For indeed I promised to eat all of his
killing.
Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but
he'll
be meet with you, I doubt it not.
Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.
Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it. He is
a
very valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach.
Mess. And a good soldier too, lady.
Beat. And a good soldier to a lady; but what is he to a lord?
Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuff'd with all
honourable
virtues.
Beat. It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuff'd man; but
for
the stuffing--well, we are all mortal.
Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of
merry
war betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet but
there's
a skirmish of wit between them.
Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict four
of
his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man
govern'd
with one; so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm,
let
him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse;
for
it is all the wealth that he hath left to be known a
reasonable
creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new
sworn brother.
Mess. Is't possible?
Beat. Very easily possible. He wears his faith but as the
fashion
of his hat; it ever changes with the next block.
Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.
Beat. No. An he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you,
who is
his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a
voyage with him to the devil?
Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.
Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is
sooner
caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad.
God
help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it
will
cost him a thousand pound ere 'a be cured.
Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady.
Beat. Do, good friend.
Leon. You will never run mad, niece.
Beat. No, not till a hot January.
Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, and John the
Bastard.
Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble?
The
fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.
Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your
Grace;
for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you
depart
from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.
Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is
your
daughter.
Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so.
Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you ask'd her?
Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.
Pedro. You have it full, Benedick. We may guess by this what
you
are, being a man. Truly the lady fathers herself. Be happy,
lady;
for you are like an honourable father.
Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his
head
on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.
Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior
Benedick.
Nobody marks you.
Bene. What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?
Beat. Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such
meet
food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must
convert
to disdain if you come in her presence.
Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved
of
all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my
heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.
Beat. A dear happiness to women! They would else have been
troubled
with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am
of
your humour for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow
than a man swear he loves me.
Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some
gentleman
or other shall scape a predestinate scratch'd face.
Beat. Scratching could not make it worse an 'twere such a face
as
yours were.
Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so
good a
continuer. But keep your way, a God's name! I have done.
Beat. You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old.
Pedro. That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio and
Signior
Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell
him
we shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartly prays
some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no
hypocrite, but prays from his heart.
Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. [To Don
John] Let me bid you welcome, my lord. Being reconciled to
the
Prince your brother, I owe you all duty.
John. I thank you. I am not of many words, but I thank you.
Leon. Please it your Grace lead on?
Pedro. Your hand, Leonato. We will go together.
Exeunt. Manent Benedick and Claudio.
Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior
Leonato?
Bene. I noted her not, but I look'd on her.
Claud. Is she not a modest young lady?
Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my
simple
true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as
being a professed tyrant to their sex?
Claud. No. I pray thee speak in sober judgment.
Bene. Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise,
too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great
praise.
Only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other
than she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as
she
is, I do not like her.
Claud. Thou thinkest I am in sport. I pray thee tell me truly
how
thou lik'st her.
Bene. Would you buy her, that you enquire after her?
Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel?
Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a
sad
brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a
good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what
key
shall a man take you to go in the song?
Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I look'd
on.
Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such
matter.
There's her cousin, an she were not possess'd with a
fury,exceeds
her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of
December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have
you?
Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the
contrary, if Hero would be my wife.
Bene. Is't come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man
but
he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a
bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i' faith! An thou wilt
needs
thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it and sigh
away
Sundays.
Enter Don Pedro.
Look! Don Pedro is returned to seek you.
Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to
Leonato's?
Bene. I would your Grace would constrain me to tell.
Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance.
Bene. You hear, Count Claudio. I can be secret as a dumb man, I
would have you think so; but, on my allegiance--mark you
this-on
my allegiance! he is in love. With who? Now that is your
Grace's
part. Mark how short his answer is: With Hero, Leonato's
short
daughter.
Claud. If this were so, so were it utt'red.
Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: 'It is not so, nor 'twas not
so;
but indeed, God forbid it should be so!'
Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should
be
otherwise.
Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy.
Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.
Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought.
Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.
Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine.
Claud. That I love her, I feel.
Pedro. That she is worthy, I know.
Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how
she
should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of
me.
I will die in it at the stake.
Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of
beauty.
Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of
his
will.
Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought
me
up, I likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will
have
a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an
invisible
baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do
them
the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to
trust
none; and the fine is (for the which I may go the finer), I
will
live a bachelor.
Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.
Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not
with
love. Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will
get
again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's
pen
and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of
blind Cupid.
Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt
prove a notable argument.
Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me;
and
he that hits me, let him be clapp'd on the shoulder and
call'd
Adam.
Pedro. Well, as time shall try.
'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.'
Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick
bear
it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead,
and
let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they
write
'Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign
'Here you may see Benedick the married man.'
Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad.
Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice,
thou
wilt quake for this shortly.
Bene. I look for an earthquake too then.
Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the
meantime,
good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him
and
tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath
made
great preparation.
Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage;
and
so I commit you--
Claud. To the tuition of God. From my house--if I had it--
Pedro. The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick.
Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is
sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but
slightly
basted on neither. Ere you flout old ends any further,
examine
your conscience. And so I leave you. Exit.
Claud. My liege, your Highness now may do me good.
Pedro. My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Any hard lesson that may do thee good.
Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord?
Pedro. No child but Hero; she's his only heir.
Dost thou affect her, Claudio?
Claud.O my lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love;
But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
Saying I lik'd her ere I went to wars.
Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently
And tire the hearer with a book of words.
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,
And I will break with her and with her father,
And thou shalt have her. Wast not to this end
That thou began'st to twist so fine a story?
Claud. How sweetly you do minister to love,
That know love's grief by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise.
Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
The fairest grant is the necessity.
Look, what will serve is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest,
And I will fit thee with the remedy.
I know we shall have revelling to-night.
I will assume thy part in some disguise
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio,
And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong encounter of my amorous tale.
Then after to her father will I break,
And the conclusion is, she shall be thine.
In practice let us put it presently. Exeunt.
Scene II.
A room in Leonato's house.
Enter [at one door] Leonato and [at another door, Antonio] an old
man,
brother to Leonato.
Leon. How now, brother? Where is my cousin your son? Hath he
provided this music?
Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you
strange
news that you yet dreamt not of.
Leon. Are they good?
Ant. As the event stamps them; but they have a good cover, they
show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a
thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much
overheard by
a man of mine: the Prince discovered to Claudio that he loved
my
niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in
a
dance, and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the
present time by the top and instantly break with you of it.
Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
Ant. A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him
yourself.
Leon. No, no. We will hold it as a dream till it appear itself;
but
I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the
better
prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you
and
tell her of it. [Exit Antonio.]
[Enter Antonio's Son with a Musician, and others.]
[To the Son] Cousin, you know what you have to do.
--[To the Musician] O, I cry you mercy, friend. Go you with
me,
and I will use your skill.--Good cousin, have a care this
busy
time. Exeunt.
Scene III.
Another room in Leonato's house.]
Enter Sir John the Bastard and Conrade, his companion.
Con. What the goodyear, my lord! Why are you thus out of
measure
sad?
John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds;
therefore
the sadness is without limit.
Con. You should hear reason.
John. And when I have heard it, what blessings brings it?
Con. If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance.
John. I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born
under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a
mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad
when
I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have
stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am
drowsy,
and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and
claw no
man in his humour.
Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you
may
do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against
your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace,
where
it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair
weather that you make yourself. It is needful that you frame
the
season for your own harvest.
John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his
grace,
and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all than to
fashion a carriage to rob love from any. In this, though I
cannot
be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied
but
I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and
enfranchis'd with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to
sing in
my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my
liberty, I
would do my liking. In the meantime let me be that I am, and
seek
not to alter me.
Con. Can you make no use of your discontent?
John. I make all use of it, for I use it only.
Enter Borachio.
Who comes here? What news, Borachio?
Bora. I came yonder from a great supper. The Prince your
brother is
royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you
intelligence
of an intended marriage.
John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on?
What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness?
Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand.
John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio?
Bora. Even he.
John. A proper squire! And who? and who? which way looks he?
Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato.
John. A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?
Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoking a
musty
room, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad
conference. I whipt me behind the arras and there heard it
agreed
upon that the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having
obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio.
John. Come, come, let us thither. This may prove food to my
displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my
overthrow. If I can cross him any way, I bless myself every
way.
You are both sure, and will assist me?
Con. To the death, my lord.
John. Let us to the great supper. Their cheer is the greater
that
I am subdued. Would the cook were o' my mind! Shall we go
prove
what's to be done?
Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship.
Exeunt.
<>
ACT II. Scene I.
A hall in Leonato's house.
Enter Leonato, [Antonio] his Brother, Hero his Daughter,
and Beatrice his Niece, and a Kinsman; [also Margaret and
Ursula].
Leon. Was not Count John here at supper?
Ant. I saw him not.
Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but
I am
heart-burn'd an hour after.
Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition.
Beat. He were an excellent man that were made just in the
midway
between him and Benedick. The one is too like an image and
says
nothing, and the other too like my lady's eldest son,
evermore
tattling.
Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's
mouth,
and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face--
Beat. With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough
in
his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world--if 'a
could get her good will.
Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if
thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
Ant. In faith, she's too curst.
Beat. Too curst is more than curst. I shall lessen God's
sending
that way, for it is said, 'God sends a curst cow short
horns,'
but to a cow too curst he sends none.
Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.
Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I
am
at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could
not
endure a husband with a beard on his face. I had rather lie
in
the woollen!
Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard.
Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel and
make
him my waiting gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than
a
youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he
that
is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than
a
man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in
earnest of the berrord and lead his apes into hell.
Leon. Well then, go you into hell?
Beat. No; but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me
like an
old cuckold with horns on his head, and say 'Get you to
heaven,
Beatrice, get you to heaven. Here's no place for you maids.'
So
deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter--for the
heavens.
He shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as
merry
as the day is long.
Ant. [to Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be rul'd by your
father.
Beat. Yes faith. It is my cousin's duty to make cursy and say,
'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let
him
be a handsome fellow, or else make another cursy, and say,
'Father, as it please me.'
Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a
husband.
Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth.
Would
it not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd with a piece of
valiant
dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward
marl?
No, uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly
I
hold it a sin to match in my kinred.
Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you. If the Prince do
solicit
you in that kind, you know your answer.
Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not
wooed
in good time. If the Prince be too important, tell him there
is
measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For, hear
me,
Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a
measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty
like
a Scotch jig--and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly
modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then
comes
Repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace
faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.
Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight.
Leon. The revellers are ent'ring, brother. Make good room.
[Exit Antonio.]
Enter, [masked,] Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Balthasar.
[With them enter Antonio, also masked. After them enter]
Don John [and Borachio (without masks), who stand aside
and look on during the dance].
Pedro. Lady, will you walk a bout with your friend?
Hero. So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing,
I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away.
Pedro. With me in your company?
Hero. I may say so when I please.
Pedro. And when please you to say so?
Hero. When I like your favour, for God defend the lute should
be
like the case!
Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.
Hero. Why then, your visor should be thatch'd.
Pedro. Speak low if you speak love. [Takes her aside.]
Balth. Well, I would you did like me.
Marg. So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill
qualities.
Balth. Which is one?
Marg. I say my prayers aloud.
Balth. I love you the better. The hearers may cry Amen.
Marg. God match me with a good dancer!
Balth. Amen.
Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done!
Answer, clerk.
Balth. No more words. The clerk is answered.
[Takes her aside.]
Urs. I know you well enough. You are Signior Antonio.
Ant. At a word, I am not.
Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head.
Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
Urs. You could never do him so ill-well unless you were the
very
man. Here's his dry hand up and down. You are he, you are he!
Ant. At a word, I am not.
Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your
excellent
wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum you are he. Graces
will
appear, and there's an end. [ They step aside.]
Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?
Bene. No, you shall pardon me.
Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
Bene. Not now.
Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of
the
'Hundred Merry Tales.' Well, this was Signior Benedick that
said
so.
Bene. What's he?
Beat. I am sure you know him well enough.
Bene. Not I, believe me.
Beat. Did he never make you laugh?
Bene. I pray you, what is he?
Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jester, a very dull fool. Only
his
gift is in devising impossible slanders. None but libertines
delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but
in
his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and
then
they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet.
I would he had boarded me.
Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say.
Beat. Do, do. He'll but break a comparison or two on me; which
peradventure, not marked or not laugh'd at, strikes him into
melancholy; and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the
fool
will eat no supper that night.
[Music.]
We must follow the leaders.
Bene. In every good thing.
Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the
next
turning.
Dance. Exeunt (all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio].
John. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her
father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her and
but
one visor remains.
Bora. And that is Claudio. I know him by his bearing.
John. Are you not Signior Benedick?
Claud. You know me well. I am he.
John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love. He is
enamour'd on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her; she is
no
equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in
it.
Claud. How know you he loves her?
John. I heard him swear his affection.
Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight.
John. Come, let us to the banquet.
Exeunt. Manet Claudio.
Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.
[Unmasks.]
'Tis certain so. The Prince wooes for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things
Save in the office and affairs of love.
Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;
Let every eye negotiate for itself
And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero!
Enter Benedick [unmasked].
Bene. Count Claudio?
Claud. Yea, the same.
Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claud. Whither?
Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, County.
What
fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like
an
usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf?
You
must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.
Claud. I wish him joy of her.
Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier. So they sell
bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you
thus?
Claud. I pray you leave me.
Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man! 'Twas the boy that
stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.
Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. Exit.
Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. But,
that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The
Prince's fool! Ha! it may be I go under that title because I
am
merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so
reputed. It is the base (though bitter) disposition of
Beatrice
that puts the world into her person and so gives me out.
Well,
I'll be revenged as I may.
Enter Don Pedro.
Pedro. Now, signior, where's the Count? Did you see him?
Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame, I
found
him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told him,
and I
think I told him true, that your Grace had got the good will
of
this young lady, and I off'red him my company to a willow
tree,
either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind
him
up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.
Pedro. To be whipt? What's his fault?
Bene. The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being
overjoyed
with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he
steals
it.
Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The
transgression is
in the stealer.
Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the
garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and
the
rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have
stol'n
his bird's nest.
Pedro. I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the
owner.
Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say
honestly.
Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman
that
danc'd with her told her she is much wrong'd by you.
Bene. O, she misus'd me past the endurance of a block! An oak
but
with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very
visor
began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not
thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester,
that
I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with
such
impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a
mark,
with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and
every
word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her
terminations,
there were no living near her; she would infect to the North
Star. I would not marry her though she were endowed with all
that
Adam had left him before he transgress'd. She would have made
Hercules have turn'd spit, yea, and have cleft his club to
make
the fire too. Come, talk not of her. You shall find her the
infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar
would
conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live
as
quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose,
because they would go thither; so indeed all disquiet,
horror,
and perturbation follows her.
Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.
Pedro. Look, here she comes.
Bene. Will your Grace command me any service to the world's
end? I
will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you
can
devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from
the
furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's
foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any
embassage to the Pygmies--rather than hold three words'
conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me?
Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.
Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not! I cannot endure my
Lady
Tongue. [Exit.]
Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior
Benedick.
Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gave him use
for
it--a double heart for his single one. Marry, once before he
won
it of me with false dice; therefore your Grace may well say I
have lost it.
Pedro. You have put him down, lady; you have put him down.
Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should
prove
the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you
sent
me to seek.
Pedro. Why, how now, Count? Wherefore are you sad?
Claud. Not sad, my lord.
Pedro. How then? sick?
Claud. Neither, my lord.
Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well;
but
civil count--civil as an orange, and something of that
jealous
complexion.
Pedro. I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though
I'll
be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I
have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won. I have broke
with
her father, and his good will obtained. Name the day of
marriage,
and God give thee joy!
Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes.
His
Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it!
Beat. Speak, Count, 'tis your cue.
Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but
little
happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am
yours.
I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a
kiss
and let not him speak neither.
Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the
windy
side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in
her
heart.
Claud. And so she doth, cousin.
Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world
but
I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry 'Heigh-ho
for
a husband!'
Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting. Hath
your
Grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent
husbands, if a maid could come by them.
Pedro. Will you have me, lady?
Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working
days:
your Grace is too costly to wear every day. But I beseech
your
Grace pardon me. I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best
becomes
you, for out o' question you were born in a merry hour.
Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a
star
danc'd, and under that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy!
Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?
Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle, By your Grace's pardon. Exit.
Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord.
She
is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for
I
have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of
unhappiness
and wak'd herself with laughing.
Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.
Leon. O, by no means! She mocks all her wooers out of suit.
Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leon. O Lord, my lord! if they were but a week married, they
would
talk themselves mad.
Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go to church?
Claud. To-morrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches till love have
all
his rites.
Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just
sevennight; and a time too brief too, to have all things
answer
my mind.
Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing;
but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by
us.
I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours,
which
is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a
mountain of affection th' one with th' other. I would fain
have
it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it if you three
will
but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction.
Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights'
watchings.
Claud. And I, my lord.
Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero?
Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin
to a
good husband.
Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I
know.
Thus far can I praise him: he is of a noble strain, of
approved
valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour
your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and
I,
[to Leonato and Claudio] with your two helps, will so
practise on
Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy
stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do
this,
Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we
are
the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my
drift.
Exeunt.
Scene II.
A hall in Leonato's house.
Enter [Don] John and Borachio.
John. It is so. The Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of
Leonato.
Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.
John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be med'cinable to
me.
I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart
his
affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this
marriage?
Bora. Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty
shall appear in me.
John. Show me briefly how.
Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am
in
the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.
John. I remember.
Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint
her
to look out at her lady's chamber window.
John. What life is in that to be the death of this marriage?
Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the
Prince your brother; spare not to tell him that he hath
wronged
his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation
do
you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as
Hero.
John. What proof shall I make of that?
Bora. Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to
undo
Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue?
John. Only to despite them I will endeavour anything.
Bora. Go then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the
Count
Claudio alone; tell them that you know that Hero loves me;
intend
a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as--in love of
your brother's honour, who hath made this match, and his
friend's
reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance
of
a maid--that you have discover'd thus. They will scarcely
believe
this without trial. Offer them instances; which shall bear no
less likelihood than to see me at her chamber window, hear me
call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio; and bring
them
to see this the very night before the intended wedding (for
in
the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be
absent) and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's
disloyalty that jealousy shall be call'd assurance and all
the
preparation overthrown.
John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in
practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a
thousand ducats.
Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall
not
shame me.
John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage.
Exeunt.
Scene III.
Leonato's orchard.
Enter Benedick alone.
Bene. Boy!
[Enter Boy.]
Boy. Signior?
Bene. In my chamber window lies a book. Bring it hither to me
in
the orchard.
Boy. I am here already, sir.
Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence and here again.
(Exit Boy.) I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much
another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to
love,
will, after he hath laugh'd at such shallow follies in
others,
become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love; and
such
a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with
him
but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the
tabor
and the pipe. I have known when he would have walk'd ten mile
afoot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights
awake
carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak
plain
and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now
is
he turn'd orthography; his words are a very fantastical
banquet--
just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted and see
with
these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn
but
love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on
it,
till he have made an oyster of me he shall never make me such
a
fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet
I am
well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be
in
one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she
shall
be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll
never
cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come
not
near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an
excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it
please God. Ha, the Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me
in
the arbour. [Hides.]
