I had sworn to the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. Bene. Is't come to this, i' faith? Hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i' faith; an' thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is returned to seek you. Re-enter Don Pedro. D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you follow not to Leonato's? [me to tell. Bene. I would your grace would constrain D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. Bene. You hear, Count Claudio: I can be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on my allegiance,-mark you this, on my allegiance,-He is in love. With who? --now that is your grace's part.-Mark, how short his answer is;-with Hero, Leonato's short daughter. Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: it is not so, nor 'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so. Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the| lady is very well worthy. Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. Claud. And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. Bene. And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. Claud. That I love her, I feel. D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me I will die in it at the stake. D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. Claud. And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will. : Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks: but that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is, (for which I may go the finer,) I will live a bachelor. D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with love: prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid. D. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder, and called Adam. De Pedro. Well, as time shall try: "In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke." Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns, and set them in my forehead: and let me be vilely painted; and in such great letters as they write, "Here is good horse to hire," let them signify under my sign,-" Here you may see Benedick the married man.' Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad. " D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. Bene. I look for an earthquake, too, then. D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the mean time, good signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's: commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made great preparation. Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and so I commit you[house, if I had it,— Claud. To the tuition of God: from my D. Pedro. The sixth of July; your loving friend, Benedick. The Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither: ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience: and so I leave you. [Exit. Claud. My liege, your highness now may do me good. [it but how, D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach: teach And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord? D. Pedro. No child but Hero; she's his Dost thou affect her, Claudio? [only heir: Claud. O, my lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love : But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts Have left their places vacant, in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is, Saying, I lik'd her ere I went to wars. D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently, And tire the hearer with a book of words. If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it; And I will break with her, and with her father, And thou shalt have her. Was't not to this end That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love, That know love's grief by his complexion ! But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. ing mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I D. Pedro. What need the bridge much must be sad when I have cause, and smile at broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity: [lovest; Look, what will serve is fit: 'tis once, thou And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have revelling to-night: SCENE II-A Room in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio. no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, till you may do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace; where it is impossible you should take true root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself: it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. D. John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all, than to Leon. How now, brother! Where is my fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in cousin, your son? Hath he provided this this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering music? honest man, it must not be denied but I am a Ant. He is very busy about it. But, bro-plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a ther, I can tell you strange news, that you yet muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog; theredreamt not of. Leon. Are they good? fore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. Ant. As the event stamps them but they If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my have a good cover; they show well outward. liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean The prince and Count Claudio, walking in a time, let me be that I am, and seek not to thick-pleached alley in my orchard, were thus alter me. much overheard by a man of mine: the prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and, if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it. Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him; and question him yourself. Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a dream, till it appear itself; but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you, and tell her of it. [Several persons cross the stage.] Cousins, you know what you have to do.-O, I cry you mercy, friend; go you with me, and I will use your skill-Good cousins, have a care of this busy time. [Exeunt. Another Room in Leonato's Enter Don John and Conrade. D. John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore the sadness is without limit. Con. You should hear reason. D. John. And when I have heard it, what blessing bringeth it? [sufferance. Con. Can you make no use of your discontent? D. John. I make all use of it, for I use it only.-Who comes here? [Enter Borachio.] What news, Borachio? Bora. I came yonder from a great supper: the prince, your brother, is royally entertained by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. D. John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietness? Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. Bora. Even he. D. John. A proper squire! And who, and who? Which way looks he? Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. D. John. A very forward March-chick! How came you to this? Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference: I whipt me behind the arras; and there heard it agreed upon, that the prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give her to count Claudio. That D. John. Come, come, let us thither: this may prove food to my displeasure. young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow: if I can cross him any way, I bless Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient myself every way. You are both sure, and D. John. I wonder that thou, being (as will assist me? Con. To the death, my lord. thou say'st thou art) born under Saturn, goest D. John. Let us to the great supper: their about to apply a moral medicine to a mortify-cheer is the greater, that I am subdued. Leon. Was not count John here at supper? Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him, but I am heart-burned an hour after. Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made just in the midway between him and Benedick the one is too like an image, and says nothing; and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling. Leon. Then, half signior Benedick's tongue in count John's mouth, and half count John's melancholy in signior Benedick's face, Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world,-if he could get her good will. Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in good time: if the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and, with his bad Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster and get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. Ant. In faith she is too curst. Beat. Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God's sending that way; for it is said, "God sends a curst cow short horns;" but to a cow too curst he sends none. Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns? Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face I had rather lie in the woollen. Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard. Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a youth; and he that hath no beard is less than a man: and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bearward, and lead his apes into hell. : Leon. Well, then, go you into hell? Beat. No; but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say, "Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here's no place for you maids:" so deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter; for the heavens he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. faster, till he sink into his grave. [shrewdly. Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. [make good room. Leon. The revellers are entering, brother: Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others, masked. D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend? Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away. D. Pedro. With me in your company? Hero. I may say so, when I please. D. Pedro. And when please you to say so? Hero. When I like your favour: for God defend the lute should be like the case! D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. [thatch'd. Hero. Why, then, your visor should be D. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. [Takes her aside. Bene. Well, I would you did like me. Marg. So would not I, for your own sake: for I have many ill qualities. Bene. Which is one? Marg. I say my prayers aloud. Bene. I love you the better; the hearers may cry Amen. Marg. God match me with a good dancer! Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, when the dance is done! Balth. No more words: swered. - Answer, clerk. the clerk is an[signior Antonio. Urs. I know you well enough! you are Ant. At a word, I am not. [head. D. John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt Don John and Borachio. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. "Tis certain so:-the prince woos for himself. Urs. I know you by the waggling of your Friendship is constant in all other things, Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Save in the office and affairs of love; Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, un-Therefore, all hearts in love use their own less you were the very man. Here's his dry hand up and down: you are he, you are he. Ant. At a word, I am not. Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he graces will appear, and there's an end. Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? Bene. No, you shall pardon me. Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? Bene. Not now. Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the "Hundred Merry Tales."-Well, this was signior Benedick that said so. Bene. What's he? Beat. I am sure, you know him well enough. Bene. Not I, believe me. Beat. Did he never make you laugh? Beat. Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I'm sure he is in the fleet; I would he had boarded me! Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, [Hero! Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Re-enter Benedick. Bene. Count Claudio? Claud. Yea, the same. Bene. Come, will you go with me? Claud. Whither? Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? About your neck, like a usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. Claud. I wish him joy of her. Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus? Claud. pray you leave me. Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man: 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit. Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! Now will he creep into sedges.-But, that my lady Beatrice Beat. Do, do he'll but break a comparison should know me, and not know me! The or two on me; which, peradventure, not prince's fool!-Ha! it may be I go under marked, or not laughed at, strikes him into that title, because I am merry.-Yea, but so; melancholy; and then there's a partridge' I am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so rewing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that puted: it is the base, though bitter disposition night. [Music within.] We must follow the of Beatrice, that puts the world into her leaders. Bene. In every good thing. person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be reBeat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will venged as I may. leave them at the next turning. [Dance: then exeunt all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio. D. John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. [by his bearing. Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him D. John. Are not you signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well; I am he. D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamoured on Hero; pray you, dissuade him from her; she is no equal for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it. Claud. How know you he loves her? D. John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night. Re-enter Don Pedro. D. Pedro. Now, signior, where's the count? Did you see him? Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren: I told him, and I think I told him true, that your grace had got the good-will of this young lady; and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. [fault? D. Pedro. To be whipped! What's his Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it. D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer. Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen his bird's nest. D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you the gentleman that danced with her, told her she is much wronged by you. lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. -I have brought count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. D. Pedro. Why, how now, count! wherefore are you sad? Cland. Not sad, my lord. D. Pedro. How then? Sick? Claud. Neither, my lord. Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil, count; civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion. Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it! Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue. Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance D. Pedro. I' faith, lady, I think your blazon of a block! an oak, but with one green leaf to be true; though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, on it, would have answered her; my very visor his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have began to assume life, and scold with her. She wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won: I told me, not thinking I had been myself, that have broke with her father, and his good-will I was the prince's jester; that I was duller obtained: name the day of marriage, and than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest, God give thee joy! with such impossible conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of no living near her; she would infect to the joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how north star. I would not marry her, though much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: she were endowed with all that Adam had left I give away myself for you, and dote upon the him before he transgressed: she would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her; you shall find her the infernal Até in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her. Re-enter Claudio, Beatrice, Hero, and D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not: I cannot endure my lady Tongue. [Exit. D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave him use for it,-a double heart for a single one: marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I have lost it. D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down." Beat. So I would not he should do me, my exchange, Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. [heart. D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry 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. Beat. Good lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburned: I may sit in a corner, and cry heighho for a husband! D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. 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 cried; 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. [Exit. D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad, but |