Bene. Not I, believe me. Beat. Did he never make you laugh? 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 pleaseth 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 laughed at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [Music within. 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. Then exeunt all but DoN JOHN, BORACHIO, and CLAUDIO. D. 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 Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains.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.' D. John. Are not you signior Benedick? D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamoured 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? 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 drover; 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, the bitter disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out." Well, I'll be revenged as I may. Re-enter DON PEDRO. D. Pedro. Now, signior, where's the count. Did you see him? Bene. Troth, my lord, I have play'd 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 offered 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 whipped. D. Pedro. To be whipped! What's his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a schoolboy; who, being overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows his companion, and he steals it. D. John. I heard him swear his affection. Bara. So did I too; and he swore he would mar-it ry her to-night. D. John. Come let us to the banquet. [Exeunt DON JOHN, and BORACHIO. And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch, Which I mistrusted not: Farewell, therefore, Hero! D. 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. D. 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. D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danced with her, told her, she is much wronged by you. Bene. O, she misused 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: hud Bene. Even to the next willow, about your owndling jest upon jest, with such impossible1o conveybusiness, count. What fashion will you wear the best was discovered in 1815, by my late lamented friend Rev. J. Conybeare, Professor of Poetry in Oxford. I had the gratification of printing a few copies at the swick press, under the title of Shakspeare's Jest Bock. It was printed by Rastell, and therefore must have been published previous to 1533. Another collecof the same kind, called, Tales and Quicke Anseres, printed by Berthelette, and of nearly equal quity, was also reprinted at the same time; and it is arkable that this collection is cited by Sir John Haron under the title of the hundred merry tales.' It tinued for a long period to be the popular name for collections of this sort, for in the London Chaunticlere, 159, it is mentioned as being cried for sale by a ballad 6 Chains of gold of considerable value were, in Shakspeare's time, worn by wealthy citizens, and others, in the same manner as they are now on public occasions by the aldermen of London. Usury was then a common topic of invective. So, in 'The Choice of Change,' 1598, Three sortes of people, in respect of necessity, may be accounted good:-Merchants, for they may play the usurers, instead of the Jews, &c.' Again, "There is a scarcity of Jews, because Christians make an occupation of usurie.' 12. 1 Incredible, or inconceivable. 7 It is the disposition of Beatrice, who takes upon herself to personate the world, and therefore represents the world as saying what she only says herself. 8 A parallel thought occurs in Isaiah, c. i. where the prophet, in describing the desolation of Judah, says: The daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers,' &c. It appears ? Boarded, besides its usual meaning, signified ac- that these lonely buildings were necessary, as the cucosted. cumbers, &c. were obliged to be constantly watched and watered, and that as soon as the crop was gathered they were forsaken. 9 It is singular that a similar thought should be found in the tenth Thebaid of Statius, v. 658. ·-- ipsa insanire videtur 10 i. e. with a rapidity equal to that of jugglers,' ance 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 transgressed; she would have made Hercules have turned 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 follow her. Re-enter CLAUDIO, BEATRICE, HERO, and LEONATO. service D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. Bene. Will your grace command me any 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 farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; etch you a hair off the great Cham's beard: do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy: You have no employment for me? D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good com pany. Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my lady Tongue. [Exit. D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I give 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 I have lost it. say, D. 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. D. Pedro. Why, how now, count? wherefore are you sad? Claud. Not sad, 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. D. Pedro. I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true, though, I'll be sworn, if he be 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.3 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 him not speak neither. D. 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 sun-burned; } may sit in the corner, and cry, heigh ho! for a husband. D. 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. D. 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 mírth, and no matter. D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cri'd; but then there was a star danced, 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 BEATRICE. D. 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 dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing. D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. Leon. O, by no means; she mocks all her wooers out of suit. D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Bene dick. Leon. O lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad. D. Pedro, Count 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 seven-night; and a time too brief ton, to have all things answer my mind. D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will, in the interim, un dertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a moun tain of affection, the one with the other. I won!! fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashica 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' watching. Claud. And I, my lord. D. Pedro. And you, too, gentle Hero. Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. D. 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 confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to bu Benedick:-and I, with your two helps, will s mour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with practice 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 4 i. e. good lord, how many alliances are formins! Every one is likely to be married but I. I am s burned means I have lost my beauty, and am come whose conveyances or tricks appear impossibilities, quently no longer an object to tempt a man to marry." Impossible may, however, be used in the sense of in- 5 i. c. mischief. Unhappy was often used for m credible or inconceivable, both here and in the begin-chievous, as we now say an unlucky boy for a mis ning of the scene, where Beatrice speaks of impossible slanders.' 1 The goddess of discord. 2 Interest. chievous boy. 6A mountain of affection with one another is. Johnson observes, a strange expression; yet all that is meant appears to be a great deal of affection." 7 The same as strene, descent, lineage. 8 Squeamish. Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book; bring [Exeunt. it hither to me in the orchard.4 are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will | SCENE II. Another Room in Leonato's House. Boy. I am here, already, sir. Bene. I know that;-but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.]-I do much D. John. It is so: the count Claudio shall marry wonder, that one man, seeing how much another the daughter of Leonato. Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable 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? so covertly Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but that no dishonesty shall appear in me. D. 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. D. John. I remember. Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window. D. 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, D. John. What proof shall I make of that? D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the count Claudio alone: tell them, that man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to [Withdraws. Enter DON PEDRO, LEONATO, and CLAUDIO. As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! self? Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music ended, We'll fit the kid-fox" with a penny-worth. 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 bis friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid,-that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial offer them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding; for, in the mean time I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be call'd assurance, and all the pre-I paration overthrown. D. 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. D. John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Leonato's Garden. Enter BENEDICK and a Boy. Bene. Bov,- 1 Shakspeare uses stale here, and in a subsequent grene, for an abandoned woman. A stale also meant a decay or lure, but the two words had different origins. It is obvious why the term was applied to prostitutes. 2 Pretend. 3 The old copies read Claudio here. Theobald altered it to Borachio; yet if Claudio be wrong, it is most probably the poet's oversight. Claudio might conceive that the supposed Hero, called Borachio by the name of Ciandio in consequence of a secret agreement between them, as a cover in case she were overheard; and he would know without a possibility of error that it was not Claudio with whom in fact she conversed. For the other arguments pro and con we must refer to the variorum Shakspeare. 4 Orchard in Shakspeare's time signified a garden. So, in Romeo and Juliet. Enter BALTHAZAR, with music. To slander music any more than once. To put a strange face on his own perfection:— Since many a wooer doth commence bis suit Balth. Note this before my notes, There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks: [Music. Note, notes, forsooth, and noting! The orchard walls are high and hard to climb. This word was first written hort-yard, then by corrup tion hort-chard, and hence orchard. 5 This folly is the theme of all comic satire. 6 Benedick may allude to the fashion of dyeing the hair, very common in Shakspeare's time. Or to that of wearing false hair, which also then prevailed. So, in a subsequent scene: "I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner." 7 Kid-fox has been supposed to mean discovered or detected fox; Kid certainly meant known or discovered in Chaucer's time. It may have been a technical term in the game of hide-fox; old terms are sometimes longer preserved in jocular sports than in common usage. Some editors have printed it hid-for; and others explained it young or cub-fox. II. Sing no more ditties, sing no mo Since summer first was leavy: D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. thou singest well Bene. [Aside.] An he had been a dog, that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief I had as lief have heard the night-raven,' come what plague could have come after it. D. Pedro. Yea, marry; [To CLAUDIO.]-Dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber window. Balth. The best I can, my lord. D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exeunt BALTHAZAR and music.] Come hither, Leonato: What was it you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick? Claud. O, ay:--Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. [Aside to PEDRO.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man. Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? [Aside. Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an enraged affection,--it is past the infinite of thought." D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. Leon. O God! counterfeit! There never was counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it, D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she? Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. [Aside. Leon. What effects, my lord! She will sit you,You heard my daughter tell how. you Claud. She did, indeed. D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. Lean. I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick. Bene. Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence. Claud. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up. Aside. D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? 1 i. e. the owl. 2 This is an allusion to the stalking-horse; a horse either real or factitious, by which the fowler anciently screened himself from the sight of the game. 3i. e. but with what an enraged affection she loves him, it is beyond the infinite power of thought to conceive.' 4 i. e. into a thousand small pieces; it should be re and swears she never will: that's her Claud. "Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: Shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him! Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him: for she'll be up twenty times a night and there will she sit in her smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper:-my daughter tells us all. : Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. Leon. O!-When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet !- Claud. That. Leon O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: Imeasure him, says she, by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should. Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses:-O sweet Benedick! God give me patience! Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a desperate outrage to herself: It is very true. D. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? He would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him: She's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all Suspicion, she is virtuous. Claud. And she is exceeding wise. D. Pedro. In every thing but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. D. Pedro. I would, she had bestow'd this dotage on me; I would have daff'd all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die: for she says, she will die if he love her not; and she will die ere she makes her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptibles spirit. Claud. He is a very proper man. D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are like wit. Leon. And I take him to be valiant. D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most christian-like fear. Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece: Shall we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love? Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first. D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. call him in to dinner. SCENE I. ACT III. Leonato's Garden. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour; Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, pre- Enter BEATRICE. Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks than You take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. Bene. You take pleasure then in the message? Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal:-You have no stomach, signior; fare you well. [Exit. Bene. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you come to dinner-there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me-that's as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks :-If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go get her picture. 1 Seriously carried on.. [Earit. Enter BEATRICE, behind. Cut with their golden oars the silver stream, Urs. But are you sure, Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deserve All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Though Mr. Reed has shown that purpose was some. 5 A hawk not manned, or trained to obedience; a wild hawk. Hagard, Fr. Latham, in his Book of 2 Steevens and Malone assert that this is a metaphor Falconry, says: Such is the greatness of her spirit, from archery, saying that the full bent is the utmost ex-she will not admit of any society until such a time as tremity of exertion. Surely there is no ground for the nature worketh,' &c. So, in The Tragical History of assertion! It was one of the most common forms of Didaco and Violenta, 1576: expression in the language for inclination, tendency; and was used where it is impossible there could have been any allusion to the bending of a bow, as in these phrases, from a writer of Elizabeth's age: The day inclining or bending to the evening.- Bending to a yellow colour." 3 Proposing is conversing, from the French Propos, discourse, talk. The folio reads purpose. The quarto propose, which appears to be right. See the preceding note. in 'Perchance she's not of haggard's kind, 6 Wish him; that is, recommend or desire him. So, 'Go wish the surgeon to have great respect,' &c. 7 So, in Othello: "What a full fortune does the thick lips owe.' What Ursula means to say is, that he is as deserving of complete happiness as Beatrice herself.' 8 Undervaluing. |