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Brne. Hang it!
appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it after- now will manifest : For my brother, I think he wards.
holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp D. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach ? to effect your ensuing marriage : surely, suit ill Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm ? spent, and labour ill bestowed !
Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter ? he that has it.
D. John. I came hither to tell you ; and, cirClaud. Yet say I, he is love.
cumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in a talking of,) the lady is disloyal. him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange Claud. Who? Hero ? disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day; a French- D. John. Even she ; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, man to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries every man's Hero.
Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, Claud. Disloyal ? as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as D. John. The word is too good to paint out ber you would have it appear he is.
wickedness; I could say, she were worse ; think Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder there is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat not till further warrant: go but with me to-night, o' mornings ; What should that bode?
you shall see her chamber-window entered; even D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? the night before her wedding-day: if you love her
Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen then, to-morrow wed her ; but it would better fit with him ; and the old ornament of his cheek hath your honour to change your mind. already stuffed tennis-balls.
Claud. May this be so ? Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did by D. Pedro. I will not think it. the loss of a beard.
D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, conD. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet : Can fess not that you know: if you will follow me, I you smell him out by that ?
will show you enough ; and when you have seen Claud. That's as much as to say, The sweet more and heard more, proceed accordingly. youth's in love.
Claud. If I see any thing to night why I should D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy: not marry her to-morrow; in the congregation, Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face? where I should wed, there will I shame her.
D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the D. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain which, I hear what they say of him.
her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit ; which is now D. John. I will disparage her no farther, till you crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops. are my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight,
D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for m: and let the issue show itself. Conclude, conclude, he is in love.
D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned ! Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.
Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting ! D. Pedro. That would I know too; I warrant, D. John. O plague right well prevented ! one that knows him not.
So will you say, when you have seen the sequel. Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite
[Ereunt. of all, dies for him.
SCENE III. - A Street. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach, Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied Enter DOGBERRY and Verges, with the Watch. eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which Dogb. Are you good men, and true ? these hobby-horses must not hear.
Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should [Ereunt BENEDICK and Leonato. suffer salvation. D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for Beatrice.
them, if they should have any allegiance in them, Claud. 'Tis even so : Hero and Margaret bave being chosen for the prince's watch. by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour the two bears will not bite one another, when they Dogberry, meet.
Dogb. First, who think you the most disheartless
man to be constable? Enter Don John.
1 Watch. Ilugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; D. John. My lord and brother, God save you. for they can write and read. D. Pedro. Good den, brother.
Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. Heaven D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well
favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write D. Pedro. In private ?
and read comes by nature. D. Pedro. If it please you ;- yet count Claudio 2 Watch. Both which, master constable, may hear; for what I would speak of, concerns him. Dogb. You have; I knew it would be your anD. Pedro. What's the matter?
Well, for your favour, sir, make no boast of D. John. Means your lordship to be married to it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear morrow?
(T. CLAUDIO. when there is no need of such vanity. You are D. Pedro. You know, he does.
thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for D. John. I know not that, when he knows what the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the I know.
lantern: This is your charge; You shall comprehend Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in discover it.
the prince's name. D. John. You may think I love you not; let that 2 Watch. How, if he will not stand ?
Dogb. Why then, take no note of him, but let
Enter Borachio and CONRADE. him go; and presently call the rest of the watch to
Bora. What! Conrade, gether, and thank heaven you are rid of a knave.
Watch. Peace, stir not. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he
Bora. Conrade, I say ! is none of the prince's subjects.
Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none
Bora. Stand thee close then under this pentbut the prince's subjects : – You shall also make no house, for it drizzles rain ; and I will, like a true noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and drunkard, utter all to thee. talk is most tolerable and not to be endured.
Watch (Aside.] Some treason, masters; yet 2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk; we
stand close. know what belongs to a watch. Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most John a thousand ducats.
Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of don quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that your bills 8 dear?
Con. Is it possible that any villainy should be so be not stolen: · Well, you are to call at all the
Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were posale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to sible any villainy should be so rich; for when rich bed.
villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make 2 Watch. How, if they will not ?
what price they will. Dogb. Why then, let them alone till they are
Con. I wonder at it. sober; if they make you not then the better an
Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed + : Thou swer, you may say, they are not the men you took knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a them for. 2 Watch. Well, sir,
cloak, is nothing to a man.
Con. Yes, it is apparel. Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him,
Bora. I mean the fashion. by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and,
Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make
Bora. Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the with them, why, the more is for your honesty.
fool. But see'st thou not what a deformed thief 2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we this fashion is? not lay hands on him?
Watch. I know that Deformed; he has been a Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but, I vile thief this seven year; he goes up and down like think, they that touch pitch will be defiled: the
a gentleman : I remember his name. most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief,
Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? is, to let him show himself what he is, and steal out
Con. No; 'twas the vane on the house. of your company. Verg. You have been always called a merciful thief this fashion is ? how giddily he turns about
Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed man, partner. Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; thirty?
all the hot bloods, between fourteen and five-andmuch more a man who hath any honesty in him.
Con. All this I see; and see, that the fashion Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you
wears out more apparel than the man : But art not must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 2 Watch. How, if the nurse be asleep, and will hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the
thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou not hear us?
fashion ? Dogb. Why, then depart in peace, and let the
Bora. Not so, neither : but know, that I have child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will to-night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlenot hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer
woman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at a calf when he bleats.
her mistress' chamber-window, bids me a thousand Verg. 'Tis very true.
times good night, - I tell this tale vilely: - I Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, con- should first tell thee, how the prince, Claudio, and stable, are to present the prince's own person : if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. my master, planted, and placed, and possessed by
my master don John, saw afar off in the orchard Verg. Nay by'r lady, that, I think, he cannot.
this amiable encounter, Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man
Con. And thought they, Margaret was Hero? that knows the statues, he may stay him : marry,
Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; not without the prince be willing : for, indeed, the
but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, to stay a man against his will.
partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, Verg. By’r lady, I think it be so. Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: slander that don John had made, away went Claudio
but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any an there be any matter of weight chances, call up enraged; swore he would meet her as he was apme: keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and pointed,' next morning at the temple, and there, good night. Come, neighbour. 2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let he saw over-night, and send her home again without
before the whole congregation, shame her with what us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and
a husband. then all to-bed.
1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours: I
stand. pray you, watch about signior Leonato's door; for
2 Watch. Call up the right master constable: We the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great have here recovered the most dangerous piece of coil to-night: Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you.
lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. [Ereunt DeGBERRY and VERGES. * Weapons of the watchmen.
* Unpractised in the ways of the world.
1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them; I
Re-enter URSULA. know him, he wears a lock.
Urs. Madam, withdraw; the prince, the count, Con. Masters, masters. 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, the town, are come to fetch you to church.
signior Benedick, don John, and all the gallants of I warrant you.
Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, Con. Masters, 1 Watch. Never speak; we charge you, let us
[Exunt. obey you to go with us.
SCENE V. Bora. We are like to prove a
Another Room in Leonato's House.
commodity, being taken up of these men's bills.
Enter LEONATO, with DOG BERRY and VERGES. Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you.
Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh[Exeunt.
bour? SCENE IV. A Room in Leonato's House. Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence
with Enter Hero, MARGARET, and URSULA.
that decerns you nearly. Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice,
Leon. Brief, I pray you ; for you see, 'tis a busy
time with me. and desire her to rise. Urs. I will, lady.
Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir. Hero. And bid her come hither.
Verg. Yes, in truth, it is, sir. Urs. Well.
Leon. What is it, my good friends ? Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato
Dogb. Goodınan Verges, sir, speaks a little off better.
the matter; an old man, sir, and his wits are not so Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.
blunt, as I would desire they were ; but, in faith, Marg. By my troth, it's not so good; and I war- honest, as the skin between his brows. rant, your cousin will say so.
Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another ; man living, that is an old man, and no honester
than I. I'll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if
Dogh. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighthe hair were a thought browner: and your gown's
bour Verges. a most rare fashion. I saw the duchess of Milan's
Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. gown, that they praise so.
Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we Hero. O that exceeds, they say.
are the poor duke's officers; but truly, for mine own Marg. By my troth, its but a night-gown in re
part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in spect of yours : Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced my heart to bestow it all of your worship. with silver; set with pearls, down sleeves, side
Leon. All thy tediousness on me! ha! sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a bluish
Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more tinsel : but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excel-than 'tis : for I hear as good exclamation on your lent fashion, yours is worth ten on't.
worship, as of any man in the city; and though I Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. is exceeding heavy!
Verg. And so am I.
Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Enter BEATRICE.
Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting Hero. Good morrow, coz.
your worship's presence, have ta’en a couple of as Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. 'Tis almost arrant knaves as any in Messina. five o'clock, cousin ; 'tis time you were ready. By Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking; my troth, I am exceeding ill : — hey ho !
as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out: it Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? is a world to see ! 6 – Well said, i'faith, neigbour Beat. By my troth, I am sick.
Verges : - well, an two men ride of a horse, one Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus must ride behind :- An honest soul, i'faith, sir; Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but, all thing for a qualm.
men are not alike; alas, good neighbour ! Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle.
Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus ? you have you ; but I must leave you. some moral in this Benedictus.
Dogb. One word, sir; our watch, sir, have, inMurg. Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral deed, comprehended two aspicious persons, and meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may we would have them this morning examined before think, perchance, that I think you are in love: nay, your worship. by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring nor I list not to think what I can ; nor, indeed, I it me; I am now in great haste, as it may appear cannot think, if I would think my heart out of unto you. thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be Dogb. It shall be suffigance. in love, or that you can be in love ; yet Benedick Leon. Drink some wine ere you go; fare you
well, was such another, and now is he become a man : he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in
Enter a Messenger. despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudg- Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your ing: and how you may be converted, I know not ; daughter to her husband. but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other Leon. I will wait upon them; I am ready. women do.
[Ereunt LEONATO and Messenger. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps ?
Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Marg. Not a false gallop. 5 A kind of ruff.
6 i.e. It is wonderful to see.
Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the here's that (Touching his forehead.] shall drive some gaol ; we are now to examination these men. of them to a non com : only get the learned writer Verg. And we must do it wisely,
to set down our excommunication, and meet me at Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; the gaol.
SCENE I. - The Inside of a Church.
But, as a brother to his sister, show'd
Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief; only to the You seem to me as Dian in her orb; plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; particular duties afterwards.
But you are more intemperate in your blood Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? | Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals Claud. No.
That rage in savage sensuality. Leon. To be married to her, friar ; you come to Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? 8 marry her.
Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you? Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to D. Pedro.
What should I speak ? this count?
I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about Hero. I do.
To link my dear friend to a common stale. Friar. If either of you know any inward impe- Leon. Are these things spoken? or do I but dream? diment why you should not be conjoined, I charge D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things you, on your souls, to utter it.
are true. Claud. Know you any, Hero?
Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Hero. None, my lord.
True ? O God! Friar. Know you any, count?
Claud. Leonato, stand I here? Leon. I dare make his answer, none.
Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother ? Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own ? what men daily do! not knowing what they do! Leon. All this is so; But what of this, my lord ?
Bene. How now! Interjections? Why, then some Claud. Let me but move one question to your be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he!
daughter : Claud. Šiand thee by, friar:- Father, by your leave! And, by that fatherly and kindly power Will you with free and unconstrained soul
That you have in her, bid her answer truly. Give me this maid, your daughter?
Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
Hero. O God defend me! how am I beset ! Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose What kind of catechising call you this ? worth
Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. May counterpoise this rich and precious gift ?
Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. With any just reproach? Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me neable thank- Claud.
Marry, that can Hero; fulness.
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. There, Leonato, take her back again ;
What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Give not this rotten orange to your friend;
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one ? She's but the sign and semblance of her honour:- Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. Behold. how like a maid she blushes here :
Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. 0, what authority and show of truth
D. Pedro. Why, then are you nomaiden.—Leonato, Can cunning sin cover itself withal !
I am sorry you must bear; Upon mine honour, Comes not that blood, as modest evidence,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count, To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night, All you that see her, that she were a maid,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window; By these exterior shows ? But she is none :
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal 9 villain, Her blush is guiltiness, not inodesty.
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.
Fye, fye! they are Not knit my soul to an approved wanton.
Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of; Leon. Dear my lord, if you in your own proof There is not chastity enough in language, Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth,
Without offence to utter them: Thus, pretty lady, And made defeat of her virginity,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. Claud. I know what you would say; if I have Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, known her,
If half thy outward graces had been placed You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart ! And so extenuate the 'forehand sin :
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! farewell, No, Leonato,
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! I never tempted her with word too large 7; For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, 7 Licentious.
» Too free of tongue.
And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, Trust not my reading, nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenour of my book; trust not my age, Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
(Hero swoons. If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Beat. Why, how now, cousin ? wherefore sink Under some biting error.
Friar, it cannot be : D. John. Come, let us go; these things, come Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, thus to light,
Is, that she will not add unto her guilt Smother her spirits up.
A sin of perjury; she not denies it : [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio. Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse Bene. How doth the lady ?
That which appears in proper nakedness? Beat.
Dead, I think; - help, uncle; — Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? Hero! why, Hero!- Uncle ! - Signior Benedick ! Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know none: friar !
If I know more of any man alive, Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand ! Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Death is the fairest cover for her shame,
Let all my sins lack mercy! - O my father, That may be wish'd for.
Prove you that any man with me convers'd Beat.
How now, cousin Hero? At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Friar. Have comfort, lady.
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Leon.
Dost thou look up? Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. Friar. Yea; wherefore should she not?
Friar. There is some strange misprision s in the Leon. Wherefore ? Why, doth not every earthly
Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour; Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The story that is printed in her blood ?
The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Do not live, Hero: do not ope thine eyes : Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies. For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Leon. I know not; If they speak but truth of her; Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, These bands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one ? Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame, 1
Nor age so eat up my invention, 0, one too much by thee! Why had I one ? Nor fortune made such havock of my means, Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ?
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, Why had I not, with charitable hand,
But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind,
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind,
To quit me of them throughly.
Pause a while, But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais’d, And let my counsel sway you in this case. And mine that I was proud on; mine so much, Your daughter here the princes left for dead; That I myself was to myself not mine,
Let her a while be secretly kept in, Valuing of her; why, she - 0, she is fallen And publish it, that she is dead indeed : Into a pit of ink! that the wide sea
Maintain a mourning ostentation : Hath drops too few to wash her clean again. And on your family's old monument Bene. Sir, sir, be patient:
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,
That appertain unto a burial. I know not what to say.
Leon. What shall become of this? What will this Beat. 0, on my soul, my cousin is belied !
do? Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf
Beat. No, truly, not: although, until last night, Change slander to remorse; that is some good : I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. But not for that, dream I on this strange course, Leon. Confirm’d, confirm'd! O, that is stronger But on this travail look for greater birth. made,
She dying, as it must be so maintain’d, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron ! Upon the instant that she was accus'd, Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie? Shall be lamented, pitied and excus'd, Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Of every hearer : For it so falls out, Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her ; let her die. That what we have we prize not to the worth, Friar. Hear me a little;
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, For I have only been silent so long,
Why, then we rack 4 the value ; then we find And given way unto this course of fortune, The virtue, that possession would not show us By noting of the lady: I have mark'd
Whiles it was ours: – So will it fare with Claudio: A thousand blushing apparitions start
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, Against her maiden truth : – Call me a fool ; More moving-delicate, and full of life,
· Disposition of things.