I do embrace your offer; and dispose Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming; Bora. And knows me, and knows me, I mean, in singing; but in loving,-Leander the No, by my soul, she was not; good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panNor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me; dars, and a whole book full of these quondam carBut always hath been just and virtuous, pet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the In any thing that I do know by her. even road of a blank verse, why, they were never Dogb. Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not un- so truly turned over and over as my poor self, in der white and black,) this plaintiff here, the offen-love: Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have der, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be re-tried; I can find out no rhyme to lady but baby, an membered in his punishment: and also, the watch innocent rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; heard them talk of one Deformed: they say, he for school, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; endings: No, I was not born under a rhyming and borrows money in God's name; the which he planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms, hath used so long, and never paid, that now men Enter Beatrice. grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I called sake: pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy pains. Dogb. God save the foundation! Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. thee? Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now:and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon, I will Dogb. I leave an arrant knave with your wor-kiss thee. ship; which, I beseech your worship, to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind worship; I wish your worship well; God restore therefore I will depart unkissed. you to health: I humbly give you leave to depart; Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohi- right sense, so forcible is thy wit: But, I must tell bit it.-Come, neighbour. [Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch. and either I'must shortly hear from him, or I will thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, Ant. Farewell, my lords; we look for you to- tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? morrow. D. Pedro. We will not fail. To-night I'll mourn with Hero. [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio. Leon. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd' fellow. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Leonato's Garden. Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting. so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit Beat. For them all together; which maintained which of my good parts did you first suffer love any good part to intermingle with them. But for for me? Bene. Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart! If you spite it for my sake; I will spite it Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, de-for yours; for I will never love that which my serve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it. Marg, To have no man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. Marg. And your's as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confession: there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours: if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb cre he dies, he shall live no longer in monument, than the bell rings, and the widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question?-Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum: Therefore, it is most expeBene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not dient for the wise (if Don Worm, his conscience, hurt a woman; and so I pray thee, call Beatrice: find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the I give thee the bucklers. Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. Marg, Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. [Exit Margaret. (2) Holiday phrases. (1) Ignorant, trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself: So much for praising myself (who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy,) and now tell me, How doth your cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there (3) Is subject to, will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, yonder's old coil at home: it is proved my lady Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently? Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The inside of a church. Enter To visit me :-You know your office, brother; Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.- Don Pedro, Claudio, and attendants with music Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. and tapers. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'Tis most true. Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with attendants. We here attend you; are you yet determin'd ready. That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, gen-As once Europa did at lusty Jove, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray: Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way. D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds: And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier issue speeds, Than this, for whom we render'd up this wo! [Exeunt. When he would play the noble beast in love. Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat, Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies mask’d. Claud. For this I owe you: here come other. reckonings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. your face. Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar ; Hero. Nothing certainer, D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my concluLeon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander sion.-For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have liv'd. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; Bene. Soft and fair, fríar.—Which is Beatrice? What is your will? Have been deceived, for they swore you did. Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. me. Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no such matter:-Then, you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves For here's a paper, written in his hand, beaten thee; but in that' thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. Claud. I had well hoped, thou would'st have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends :-let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play, music.-Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn. This play may be justly said to contain two of the most sprightly characters that Shakspeare ever drew. The wit, the humourist, the gentleman, and the soldier, are combined in Benedick. It is to be lamented, indeed, that the first and most splendid of these distinctions, is disgraced by unneces sary profaneness; for the goodness of his heart is hardly sufficient to atone for the license of his tongue. The too sarcastic levity, which flashes out in the conversation of Beatrice, may be excused on account of the steadiness and friendship so apparent in her behaviour, when she urges her lover Beat. I would not deny you ;-but, by this good to risk his life by a challenge to Claudio. In the day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to conduct of the fable, however, there is an impersave your life, for I was told you were in a consump-fection similar to that which Dr. Johnson has point Hero. Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts!-Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. tion. Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth. ed out in The Merry Wives of Windsor-the second contrivance is less ingenious than the first :[Kissing her. or, to speak more plainly, the same incident is beD. Pedro. How dost thou, Bencdick the married come stale by repetition. I wish some other method man? had been found to entrap Beatrice, than that very Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-one which before had been successfully practised on crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost Benedick. thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram; No: Much Ado About Nothing (as I understand if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear from one of Mr. Vertue's MSS.) formerly passed nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do under the title of Benedick and Beatrix. Heming propose to marry, I will think nothing to any pur- the player received, on the 20th of May, 1613, the pose that the world can say against it; and there- sum of forty pounds, and twenty pounds more as fore never flout at me for what I have said against his majesty's gratuity, for exhibiting six plays at Hampton Court, among which was this comedy. (1) Because. STEEVENS. And interchang'd love-tokens with my child: Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, SCENE I-Athens. A room in the palace of With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; Theseus. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, and attendants. Theseus. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Long withering out a young man's revenue. Four nights will quickly dream away the time; The. Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia.Stand forth, Demetrius; My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her:Stand forth, Lysander;-and, my gracious duke, This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child: Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, (1) Shows. And stol'n the impression of her fantasy I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; The. What say yo4, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid: The. In himself he is: But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier. Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes. The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment I look.. Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. know not by what power I am made bold; Nor how it may concern my modesty, In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts: But I beseech your grace that I may know The worst that may befal me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius. The. Either to die the death, or to abjure For ever the society of men. Therefore, fair Hernia, question your desires, Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, (2) Baubles. |