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yours I give away myself for you, and dote | labours; which is, to bring signior Benedick, upon the exchange.
and the lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such mer-assistance as shall give you direction.
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 ry 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.
Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings. Claud. And I, my lord.
D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, Beat. Good lord, for alliance!-Thus goes to help my cousin to a good husband. every one to the world but I, and I am sun. D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unburned; I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh-hopefullest husband that I know: thus far
ho! for a husband.
D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you 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 mirth, 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 cry'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. [Erit BEATRICE. D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
Leon. There's little of the melancholy ele ment 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 Benedick.
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. Nottill Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claulio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules'
can I praise him; he is of a noble strain*, of approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick:and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy t 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.
Another Room in Leonato's House. Enter Don JOHN and BORACHIO. D. John. It is so; the count Claudio shall marry 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?
Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly 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? Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato: Look you for any other issue?
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 you know that Hero loves me; intendĮ a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as-in love of your brother's honour Pretend.
who hath made this match; and his friend's | Enter Don PEDRO, LEONATO, & CLAUDIO. reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid,-that you have
overed 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 Borachio; 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 jealonsy shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation 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
SCENE III. Leonato's Garden.
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
D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music? Claud. Yea, my good lord:- How still the evening is,
hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself?"
Cland.O,very well, my lord:the music ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. Enter BALTHAZAR, with music.
D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. [voice Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a To slander music any more than once.
D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency,
Balth. Because you talk of wooing, Iwill sing:
Note this before my notes,
There's not a note of mine that's worth the [that he speaks;
D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets Note, notes, forsooth, and noting! [Music. Bene. Now, Divine air! now is his sonl ravished!-Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies ?-Well, a horn for my money, when all's done. BALTHAZAR Sings.
Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
One foot in sea, and one on shore;
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny;
Sing no more ditties, sing no mo↑
his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, be come 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 fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known, when he would have walked 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 crthographer; 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'H take my oath on it, till he have made an oys-est Ε ter 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 l'll none; virtuons, or I'll never cheapen D. Pedro. Yea, marry; [To CLÁUDIO.]— her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or Dost thou hear, Balthazar ? I pray thee, get come not near me; noble, or not I for anus some excellent music; for to-morrow night angel; of good discourse, an excellent mu- we would have it at the lady Hero's chambersician, and her hair shall be of what colour it window. pleaseGod. Halthe prince and monsieur Love! will hide me in [Withdraws.
Young or cub-fox. '
Bene. [Aside.] And 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.
Balth. The best I can, my lord.
THAZAR and music.] Come hither, Leonato: | weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, What was it you told me of to-day? that your prays, curses;-0 sweet Benedick!-God niece Beatrice was in love with signior Bene-give me patience! dick?
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. She doth indeed; my daughter days so: and the ecstasy t hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a desperate outrage to herself; It is
Leon. No, nor I neither; but most won-very true. derful, that she should so dote on signior Be- Ď. Pedro, It were good, that Benedick knew nedick, whom she hath in all outward beha- [of it by some other, if she will not discover it. viours 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. Claud. 'Faith, like enough.
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 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. Leon. 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. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?
Leon. No; and swears she never will: that's her torment.
Claud. 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: Shall 1, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him?
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 bestowed 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 contemptible 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
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 Leon. This says she now when she is be-is wise; for either be avoids them with great ginning to write to him: for she'll be up discretion, or undertakes them with a most twenty times a night; and there will she sit christian-like fear... 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 Bea trice between the sheet ?
Leon. O! she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: I measure, him, says she, by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea,though I love him, Ishould. Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls,
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 Be. nedick, 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 | broken on me, because I have railed so long he is unworthy so good a lady.
Leon. My lord, will you walk dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Aside. D. Pedro. Let there be the samne net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Aside. [Exeunt Don PEDRO,CLAUDIO,&LEONATO. BENEDICK advances from the arbour. Bene. This can be no trick: The conference was sadly borne.-They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say, too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry :-I must not seem proud: Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness: and virtuous;-'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me :By my troth, it is no addition to her wit ;nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her.-I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit
against marriage :-But doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age: Shall quips, and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his hu mour? No: the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.Here comes Beatrice: By this day, she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter BEATRICE.
Beat. Against my will, I ain sent to bid you come in to dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
Beat. 1 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 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.
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. [Exit.
SCENE I. Leonato's Garden. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parThere shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice [lour; Proposing with the Prince and Claudio: Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter;-like favourites, Made proud by princes,that advance their pride Against that power that bred it:-there will she hide her,
To listen our propose: This is thy office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, [Exit.
Hero.Now,Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
ls sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter
Enter BEATRICE, behind.
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
A species of hawks.
Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth de-
All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
Sure, I think so;
Beut. What fire is in mine ears? Can this
[Exit. SCENE II. A Room in Leonato's House.
Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK,
D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.
D. Pedro, Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth ; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.
Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
D. Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no
Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will
rs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong,
Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
D. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach? Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm? Bene, Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it.
Claud. Yet say I, he is in love.
D. Pedro, There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman today; a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as, a German from the waist downward, all slops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.
Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat o' mornings; What should that bode? D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's?
Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; aud the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls.