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Mine innocent child?
Bora. Yea, even 1 alone.
Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beli'st thyself;
Impose me to what penance your invention
D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I;
And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live, That were impossible; but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here
How innocent she died: and, if your love
Claud. O, noble Sir,
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me!
Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming;
To-night I take my leave.-This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, I believe, was pack'd‡ in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother.
Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; [me; Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her.
Dogb. Moreover, Sir, (which, indeed, is not under white and black,) this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name; the which he hath used so long, and Lever paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake; Pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest
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.
Command. + Acquaint. + Combined.
SCENE II-LEONATO's Garden. Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting. Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve 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.
Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: 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. Bene. And therefore will come.
The god of love,
That sits above,
And knows me, and knows me,
How pitiful I deserve,
I mean, in singing; but in loving,-Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self, in love: Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhyme to ludy but baby, an innocent rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; for school, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: No I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor i
cannot woo in festival terms.t
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
So the life, that died with shame,
Now, Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul | hymn. wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.
Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit: But, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
Beat. For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love 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 for yours; for I will never love that which my 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 ere 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 expedient for the wise, (if Don Worm his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as 1 am to myself: So much for praising myself, (who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy, and now tell me, How doth your cousin? Beat. Very ill.
Bene. And how do you?
Beat. Very ill too.
Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.
Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coilt at home: it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the 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 [Exeunt. will go with thee to thy uncle's.
SCENE III.-The Inside of a Church. Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and ATTENDANTS, with Music and Tapers.
Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?
Done to death by slanderous tongues
* Is subject to.
music, sound, and sing your solemn
Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night!
Yearly will I do this rite.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your torches out:
The wolves have prey'd; and look, the
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 speed's,
Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-A Room in LEONATO's House.
Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEA
TRICE, URSULA, FRIAR, and HERO.
Upon the error that you heard debated:
Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so
Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen
Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd coun
In the estate of honourable marriage ;-
Here comes the prince, and Claudio.
Enter Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO, with Attendants.
D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio;
We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
That you have such a February face,
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine: Sweet, let me see your face.
Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take
Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand before this holy I am your husband, if you like of me. [friar; Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife: [Unmasking. And when you loved, you were my other husband.
Claud. Another Hero?
Hero. Nothing certainer:
One Hero died defil'd; but I do live,
D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.
Friar, All this amazement can I qualify;
Bene. Soft and fair, friar.-Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that name; [Unmasking.]
Bene. Do not you love me?
Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince,
Have been deceived; for they swore vou did. Beat. Do not you love me?
Bene. No, no more than reason.
Are much deceiv'd; for they did sware you did. Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for 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
Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves For here's a paper, written in his hand, [her; A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice.
Hero. And here's another, [pocket, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her Containing her affection unto Benedick.
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.
Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption
Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.[Kissing her. D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married man?
Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do propose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.-For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.
Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst 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 own 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.
The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
The. Go, Philostrate,
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! The. Thanks, good Egeus: What's the news with thee?
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 graciousduke,
This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child:
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her And interchang'd love-tokens with my child: rhymes, Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, [gers Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats; messenOf strong prevailment in unharden'd youth: With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart;
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
Be it so she will not here before your grace
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens;
The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid:
To you your father should be as a god;
But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
Her. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes.
The. Rather your eyes must with his judge.
Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. I 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
The. Either to die the death, or to abjure
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,
For aye, austerity and single life.
Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia ;-And, Lysan-
Thy crazed title to my certain right.
And what is mine my love shall render him;
Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
Her. Belike for want of rain; which I could well
Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes.
Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,
The course of true love never did run smooth:
Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to
Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years;
Her. O hell! to choose love by another's eye?
And ere a man hath power to say,-Behold!
As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and
I have a widow aunt, a dowager
And she respects me as her only son.
Her. My good Lysander!
I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow;