Brother Antony, Ant. Hold you content; What, man! I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple: Leon. But, brother Antony,- Come, 'tis no matter; My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; D. Pedro. Leon. "I will not hear you. Brother, away-I will be heard ; Ant. Or some of us will smart for it. And shall, No? [Exeunt Leonato and Antonio. Enter BENEDICK. D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man we went to seek. Claud. Now, signior! what news? D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: You are almost come to part almost a fray. Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth. D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother: What think'st thou? Had we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young for them. Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both. Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away: Wilt thou use thy wit? Bene. It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it? D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit.-I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us. D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale-Art thou sick, or angry? Claud. What! courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me:-I pray you, choose another subject. Claud. Nay, then give him another staff: this last was broke cross. D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more; I think, he be angry indeed. Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear? Claud. God bless me from a challenge! Bene. You are a villain; I jest not :-I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare:-Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet Claud. Well, I will meet you, so D. Pedro. What, a feast? a feast? Claud. I'faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf's head and a capon, the which if I do n carve most curiously, say my kmfe's naught.-S. I not find a woodcock too? Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily D. Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised t wit the other day: I said, thou hadst a fine wi, True, says she, a fine little one: No, said I, a gre wit; Right, says she, a great gross one: Nay, I, a good wit; Just, said she, it hurts no body: N said I, the gentleman is wise; Certain, said she wise gentleman: Nay, said I, he hath the tongue That, I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesd morning; there's a double tongue; there's t tongues. Thus did she, an hour together, trans-shap thy particular virtues: yet, at last, she concledwith a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy Claud. For the which she wept heartily, a said, she cared not. D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for a that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she wo love him dearly: the old man's daughter told us a Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw ha when he was hid in the garden. D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage ba horn on the sensible Benedick's head? Claud. Yea, and text underneath, Here drea Benedick the married man? Bene. Fare you well, boy; you know my m I will leave you now to your gossip-like humo you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which God be thanked, hurt not.-My lord, for y many courtesies I thank you: I must discont your company: your brother, the bastard, is from Messina: you have, among you, killed a st and innocent lady: For my lord Lack-beard, ther he and I shall meet; and till then, peace be him. [Exit Benedik D. Pedro. He is in earnest. Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I'll wa rant you, for the love of Beatrice. D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee? D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his w Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, w CONRADE and BORACHIO. Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then an ape a doctor to such a man. D. Pedro. But, soft you, let be; pluck up heart, and be sad! Did he not say, my brot was filed? Dogb. Come, yon, sir; if justice cannot ta you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in balance: nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite ouce you must be looked to. D. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's met bound! Borachio, one! Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord' D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these done? Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false re port; moreover, they have spoken untruths; condarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, the have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified uajust things, and, to conclude, they are lying knaves D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have do thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude what you lay to their charge? Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own divis and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suite D. Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood: What's your offence? Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no further to mine answer; do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light; who, in the night, overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John, your brother, incensed me to slander the lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgraced her, when you should marry her: my villainy they have upon record; which I had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my shame the lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. : D. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? Claud. I have drunk poison, whiles he uttered it. D. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this? Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. D. Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treaAnd fled he is upon this villainy. [chery: Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I loved it first. Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs; by this time our sexton hath reformed signior Leonato of the matter and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. Verg. Here, here comes master signior Leonato, and the sexton too. Re-enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, with the Sexton. on me. Leon. Art thou the slave, that with thy breath Mine innocent child? [hast kill'd Yea, even I alone. Bora. Leon. No, not so, villain; thou bely'st thyself; Here stand a pair of honourable men, A third is fled, that had a hand in it :I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death; Record it with your high and worthy deeds; Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. Claud. I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speak: Choose your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking. 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 Give her the right you should have given her cousin, O, noble sir, Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me; 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 never 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 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! [I thank thee. Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and Dogb. I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which, I beseech your worship, to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship; I wish your worship well; God restore you to health: I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it.-Come, neighbour. [Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. Ant. Farewell, my lords; we look for you toD. Pedro. We will not fail. [morrow. Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero. [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio. Leon. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt. Margaret, 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. [of my beauty? Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise 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. [which hit, but hurt not. Marg. And your's as blunt as the fencer's foils, Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give thee the bucklers. [our own. Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of 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. Bene. And therefore will come. The god of love, That sits above, And knows me, and knows me, How pitiful I deserve, [Exil. (Singing.) 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 shew it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhyme to lady 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. Enter BEATRICE. Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. Beat. Then is spoken; fare you well now:-and Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul 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. D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! 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 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? Beat. Very ill too. Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter URSULA. Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home: it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abus'd; 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 will go with thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Inside of a Church. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? Claud. (Reads from a scroll.) Done to death by slanderous tongues, Gives her fame, which never dies: Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. Pardon, Goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight; [Exeunt. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.— Here comes the prince, and Claudio. We here attend you are you yet determin'd D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: why, what's That you have such a February face, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. Re-enter ANTONIO, with the ladies masked. 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. Claud. Why, then she's mine: sweet, let me see your face. Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar; I am your husband, if you like of me. Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife: And when you loved, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero? [Unmasking. Nothing certainer: One Hero died defil'd; but I do live, And, surely as I live, I am a maid. Hero. 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; (unmasks.) What is your will? Bene. Do not you love me? Have been deceived; for they swore you did. Bene. 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 her For here's a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. Hero. And here's another, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, 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 witcrackers 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 purpose 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. |