 | Much adoe about Nothing |  |
Actus Secundus.
Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.Leonato.
Was not Count Iohn here at supper?
Brother.
I saw him not.
Beatrice.
How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer
can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after.
Hero.
He is of a very melancholy disposition.
Beatrice.
Hee were an excellent man that were made
iust in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one
is too like an image and faies nothing, and the other too
like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling.
Leon.
Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count
Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Signior
Benedicks face.
Beat.
With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and
money enough in his purse, such a man would winne any
woman in the world, if he could get her good will.
Leon.
By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a
husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
Brother.
Infaith shee's too curst.
Beat.
Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods
sending that way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow
short hornes, but to a Cow too curst he sends none.
Leon.
So, by being too curst, God will send you no
hornes.
Beat.
Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which
blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and
euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a
beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen.
Leon.
You may light vpon a husband that hath no
beard.
Batrice.
What should I doe with him? dresse him in
my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he
that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath
no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is more then a
youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I am
not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in earnest
of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell.
Leon.
Well then, goe you into hell.
Beat.
No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill
meete mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head,
and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen,
heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my Apes,
and away to S. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee
where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as
the day is long.
Brother.
Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your
father.
Beatrice.
Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curtsie,
and say, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let
him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie,
and say, father, as it please me.
Leonato.
Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted
with a husband.
Beatrice.
Not till God make men of some other metall
then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouermastred
with a peece of valiant dust? to make account of
her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none:
Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sinne
to match in my kinred.
Leon.
Daughter, remember what I told you, if the
Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your answere.
Beatrice.
The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you
be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too important,
tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance
out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, &
repenting, is as a Scotch ijgge, a measure, and a cinquepace:
the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch ijgge
(and full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest,
(as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes
repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace
faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue.
Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beatrice.
I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church
by daylight.
Leon.
The reuellers are entring brother, make good
roome.
Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or dumbe Iohn, Maskers with a drum.
Pedro.
Lady, will you walke about with your friend?
Hero.
So you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say
nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I
walke away.
Pedro.
With me in your company.
Hero.
I may say so when I please.
Pedro.
And when please you to say so?
Hero.
When I like your fauour, for God defend the
Lute should be like the case.
Pedro.
My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house
is Loue.
Hero.
Why then your visor should be thatcht.
Pedro.
Speake low if you speake Loue.
Bene.
Well, I would you did like me.
Mar.
So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue
manie ill qualities.
Bene.
Which is one?
Mar.
I say my prayers alowd.
Ben.
I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.
Mar.
God match me with a good dauncer.
Balt.
Amen.
Mar.
And God keepe him out of my sight when the
daunce is done: answer Clarke.
Balt.
No more words the Clarke is answered.
Vrsula.
I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio.
Anth.
At a word, I am not.
Vrsula.
I know you by the wagling of your head.
Anth.
To tell you true, I counterfet him.
Vrsu.
You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse
you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down,
you are he, you are he.
Anth.
At a word I am not.
Ursula.
Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know
you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe
to, mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, 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?
Bened.
Not now.
Beat.
That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good
wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signior
Benedicke that said so.
Bene.
What's he?
Beat.
I am sure you know him well enough.
Bene.
Not I, beleeue me.
Beat.
Did he neuer make you laugh?
Bene.
I pray you what is he?
Beat.
Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole,
onely his gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none
but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is
not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleaseth
men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and
beat him: I am sure he is in the Fleet, I would he had
boorded me.
Bene.
When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what
you say.
Beat.
Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two
on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd
at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Partridge
wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that
night. We must follow the Leaders.
Ben.
In euery good thing.
Bea.
Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them
at the next turning.
Exeunt.
Musicke for the dance.
Iohn.
Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath
withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the
Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines.
Borachio.
And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing.
Iohn.
Are not you signior Benedicke?
Clau.
You know me well, I am hee.
Iohn.
Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his
loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him
from her, she is no equall for his birth: you may do the
part of an honest man in it.
Claudio.
How know you he loues her?
Iohn.
I heard him sweare his affection,
Bor.
So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her
to night.
Iohn.
Come let vs to the banquet.
Ex. manet Clau.
Clau.
Thus answere I in name of Benedicke,
But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio:
'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for himselfe:
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Saue in the Office and affaires of loue:
Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues.
Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe,
And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch,
Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood:
This is an accident of hourely proofe,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero.
Enter Benedicke.
Ben.
Count Claudio.
Clau.
Yea, the same.
Ben.
Come, will you go with me?
Clau.
Whither?
Ben.
Euen to the next Willow, about your own businesse,
Count. What fashion will you weare the Garland
off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or
vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must
weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.
Clau:
I wish him ioy of her.
Ben.
Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so
they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold
haue serued you thus?
Clau.
I pray you leaue me.
Ben.
Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the
boy that stole your meate, and you'l beat the post.
Clau.
If it will not be, Ile leaue you.
Exit.
Ben.
Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into
sedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, &
not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe
vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am
apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the
base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's
the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, Ile
be reuenged as I may.
Enter the Prince.
Pedro.
Now Signior, where's the Count, did you
see him?
Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady
Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a
Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your
grace had got the 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 binde him a rod, as being
worthy to be whipt.
Pedro.
To be whipt, what's his fault?
Bene.
The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who
being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his
companion, and he steales it.
Pedro.
Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the
transgression is in the stealer.
Ben.
Yet it had not beene amisse the rod had beene
made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue
worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on
you, who as I take it haue stolne his birds nest.
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.
Pedro.
The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the
Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much
wrong'd by you.
Bene.
O she misusde me past the indurance of a block:
an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered
her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold
with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my
selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller
then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible
conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a
marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes
poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were
as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere
her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not
marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam
had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made
Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to
make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde
her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God
some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she
is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary,
and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe
thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation
followes her.
Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.
Pedro.
Looke heere she comes.
Bene.
Will your Grace command mee any seruice to
the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now
to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I
will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch
of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch
you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage
to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words
conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment
for me?
Pedro.
None, but to desire your good company.
Bene.
O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure
this Lady tongue.
Exit.
Pedr.
Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of
Signior Benedicke.
Beatr.
Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I
gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry
once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore
your Grace may well say I haue lost it.
Pedro.
You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put
him downe.
Beat.
So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest
I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought
Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke.
Pedro.
Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?
Claud.
Not sad my Lord.
Pedro.
How then? sicke?
Claud.
Neither, my Lord.
Beat.
The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry,
nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something
of a iealous complexion.
Pedro.
Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true,
though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false:
heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero
is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will
obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue
thee ioy.
Leona.
Count, take of me my daughter, and with her
my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace
say, Amen to it.
Beatr.
Speake Count, tis your Qu.
Claud.
Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were
but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you
are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and
doat vpon the exchange.
Beat.
Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth
with a kisse, and let not him speake neither.
Pedro.
Infaith Lady you haue a merry heart.
Beatr.
Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes
on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare
that he is in my heart.
Clau.
And so she doth coosin.
Beat.
Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one
to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner
and cry, heigh ho for a husband.
Pedro.
Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat.
I would rather haue one of your fathers getting:
hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father
got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.
Prince.
Will you haue me? Lady.
Beat.
No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for
working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie
day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne
to speake all mirth, and no matter.
Prince.
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry,
best becomes you, for out of question, you were born
in a merry howre.
Beatr.
No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then
there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins
God giue you ioy.
Leonato.
Neece, will you looke to those rhings I told
you of?
Beat.
I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.
Prince.
By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady.
Leon.
There's little of the melancholy element in her
my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not
euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath
often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with
laughing.
Pedro.
Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband.
Leonato.
O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers
out of suite.
Prince.
She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leonato.
O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke
Prince.
Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to
Church?
Clau.
To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches,
till Loue haue all his rites.
Leonata.
Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is
hence a iust seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue
all things answer minde.
Prince.
Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing,
but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe
dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules
labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the
Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th'one with
th'other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not
but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance
as I shall giue you direction.
Leonata.
My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee
ten nights watchings.
Claud.
And I my Lord.
Prin.
And you to gentle Hero?
Hero.
I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe
my cosin to a good husband.
Prin.
And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband
that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble
straine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will
teach you how to humour your cosin, that shee shall fall
in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will
so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke
wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with
Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Archer,
his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely loue-gods,
goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
Exit.
Enter Iohn and Borachio.
Ioh.
It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter
of Leonato.
Bora.
Yea and Lord, but I can crosse it.
Iohn.
Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be
medicinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and
whatsoeuer comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly
with mine, how canst thou crosse this marriage?
Bor.
Not honestly my Lord, but so couertly, that no
dishonesty shall appeare in me.
Iohn.
Shew me breefely how.
Bor.
I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere since, how
much I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman
to Hero.
Iohn.
I remember.
Bor.
I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night,
appoint her to look out at her Ladies chamber window.
Iohn.
What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?
Bor.
The poyson of that lies in you to temper, goe
you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that
hee hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned
Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold vp, to a
contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.
Iohn.
What proofe shall I make of that?
Bor.
Proofe enough, to misuse the Prince, to vexe
Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any
other issue?
Iohn.
Onely to despight them, I will endeauour any
thing.
Bor.
Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on
Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you
know that Hero loues me, intend a kinde of zeale both
to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your brothers
honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation,
who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance
of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely
beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which
shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see mee at her
chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare
Margaret terme me Claudio, and bring them to see this
the very night before the intended wedding, for in the
meane time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall
be absent, and there shall appeare such seeming truths of
Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shall be cal'd assurance,
and all the preparation ouerthrowne.
Iohn.
Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will
put it in practise: be cunning in the working this, and
thy fee is a thousand ducates.
Bor.
Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning
shall not shame me.
Iohn.
I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage.
Exit.
Enter Benedicke alone.
Bene.
Boy.
Boy.
Signior.
Bene.
In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it
hither to me in the orchard.
Boy.
I am heere already sir.
Exit.
Bene.
I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and
heere againe. I doe much wonder, that one man seeing
how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his
behauiours to loue, will after hee hath laught at such
shallow follies in others, become the argument of his
owne scorne, by falling in loue, & such a man is Claudio,
I haue known when there was no musicke with him but
the drum and the fife, and now had hee rather heare the
taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue
walkt ten mile a foot, to see a good armor, and now will
he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet:
he was wont to speake plaine, & to the purpose (like
an honest man & a souldier) and now is he turn'd orthography,
his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so
many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted, & see with
these eyes? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee
sworne, but loue may transforme me to an oyster, but Ile
take my oath on it, till he haue made an oyster of me, he
shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is faire, yet
I am well: another is wise, yet I am well: another vertuous,
yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman,
one woman shall not come in my grace: rich shee shall
be, that's certaine: wise, or Ile none: vertuous, or Ile neuer
cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on her: milde,
or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of
good discourse: an excellent Musitian, and her haire shal
be of what colour it please God, hah! the Prince and
Monsieur Loue, I will hide me in the Arbor.
Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Iacke Wilson.
Prin.
Come, shall we heare this musicke?
Claud.
Yea my good Lord: how still the euening is,
As husht on purpose to grace harmonie.
Prin.
See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe?
Clau.
O very well my Lord: the musicke ended,
Wee'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth.
Prince.
Come Balthasar, wee'll heare that song again.
Balth.
O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce,
To slander musicke any more then once.
Prin.
It is the witnesse still of excellency,
Prince.
It is the witnesse still of excellencie,
To put a strange face on his owne perfection,
I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more.
Balth.
Because you talke of wooing, I will sing,
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit,
To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he sweare he loues.
Prince.
Nay pray thee come,
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Doe it in notes.
Balth.
Note this before my notes,
Theres not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
Prince.
Why these are very crotchets that he speaks,
Note notes forsooth, and nothing.
Bene.
Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it
not strange that sheepes guts should hale soules out of
mens bodies? well, a horne for my money when all's
done.
[Balthasar]
The Song.
Men were deceiuers euer,
One foote in Sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant neuer,
And be you blithe and bonnie,
Conuerting all your sounds of woe,
Into hey nony nony.
Of dumps so dull and heauy,
The fraud of men were euer so,
Since summer first was leauy,
Prince.
By my troth a good song.
Balth.
And an ill singer, my Lord.
Prince.
Ha, no, no faith, thou singst well enough for a
shift.
Ben.
And he had been a dog that should haue howld
thus, they would haue hang'd him, and I pray God his
bad voyce bode no mischiefe, I had as liefe haue heard
the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after
it.
Prince.
Yea marry, dost thou heare Balthasar? I pray
thee get vs some excellent musick: for to morrow night
we would haue it at the Lady Heroes chamber window.
Balth.
The best I can, my Lord.
Prince.
Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what
was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice
was in loue with signior Benedicke?
Cla.
O I, stalke on, stalke on, the foule sits. I did neuer
thinke that Lady would haue loued any man.
Leon.
No, nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she
should so dote on Signior Benedicke, whom shee hath in
all outward behauiours seemed euer to abhorre.
Bene.
Is't possible? sits the winde in that corner?
Leo.
By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to
thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection,
it is past the infinite of thought.
Prince.
May be she doth but counterfeit.
Claud.
Faith like enough.
Leon.
O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit
of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she discouers
it.
Prince.
Why what effects of passion shewes she?
Claud.
Baite the hooke well, this fish will bite.
Leon.
What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you
heard my daughter tell you how.
Clau.
She did indeed.
Prin.
How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would
haue thought her spirit had beene inuincible against all
assaults of affection.
Leo.
I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially
against Benedicke.
Bene.
I should thinke this a gull, but that the white-bearded
fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide
himselfe in such reuerence.
Claud.
He hath tane th'infection, hold it vp.
Prince.
Hath shee made her affection known to Benedicke?
Leonato.
No, and sweares she neuer will, that's her
torment.
Claud.
'Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall
I, saies she, that haue so oft encountred him with scorne,
write to him that I loue him?
Leo.
This saies shee now when shee is beginning to
write to him, for shee'll be vp twenty times a night, and
there will she sit in her smocke, till she haue writ a sheet
of paper: my daughter tells vs all.
Clau.
Now you talke of a sheet of paper, I remember
a pretty iest your daughter told vs of.
Leon.
O when she had writ it, & was reading it ouer,
she found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete.
Clau.
That.
Leon.
O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence,
raild at her self, that she should be so immodest to write,
to one that shee knew would flout her: I measure him,
saies she, by my owne spirit, for I should flout him if hee
writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should.
Clau.
Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes,
sobs, beates her heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O
sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience.
Leon.
She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the
extasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is
somtime afeard she will doe a desperate out-rage to her
selfe, it is very true.
Princ.
It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some
other, if she will not discouer it.
Clau.
To what end? he would but make a sport of it,
and torment the poore Lady worse.
Prin.
And he should, it were an almes to hang him,
shee's an excellent sweet Lady, and (out of all suspition,)
she is vertuous.
Claudio.
And she is exceeding wise.
Prince.
In euery thing, but in louing Benedicke.
Leon.
O my Lord, wisedome and bloud combating in
so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud
hath the victory, I am sorry for her, as I haue iust cause,
being her Vncle, and her Guardian.
Prince.
I would shee had bestowed this dotage on
mee, I would haue daft all other respects, and made her
halfe my selfe: I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare
what he will say.
Leon.
Were it good thinke you?
Clau.
Hero thinkes surely she wil die, for she saies she
will die, if hee loue her not, and shee will die ere shee
make her loue knowne, and she will die if hee wooe her,
rather than shee will bate one breath of her accustomed
crossenesse.
Prin.
She doth well, if she should make tender of her
know all) hath a contemptible spirit.
Clau.
He is a very proper man.
Prin.
He hath indeed a good outward happines.
Clau.
'Fore God, and in my minde very wise.
Prin.
He doth indeed shew some sparkes that are like
wit.
Leon.
And I take him to be valiant.
Prin.
As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of
quarrels you may see hee is wise, for either hee auoydes
them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a
Christian-like feare.
Leon.
If hee doe feare God, a must necessarilie keepe
peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a
quarrell with feare and trembling.
Prin.
And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God,
howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large ieasts hee
will make: well, I am sorry for your niece, shall we goe
see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue.
Clau.
Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out
with good counsell.
Leon.
Nay that's impossible, she may weare her heart
out first.
Prin.
Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter,
let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I
could wish he would modestly examine himselfe, to see
how much he is vnworthy to haue so good a Lady.
Leon.
My Lord, will you walke? dinner is ready.
Clau.
If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer
trust my expectation.
Prin.
Let there be the same Net spread for her, and
that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry:
the sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of anothers
dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I
would see, which will be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs
send her to call him into dinner.
Exeunt.
Bene.
This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly
borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they seeme
to pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue the full
bent: loue me? why it must be required: I heare how I
am censur'd, they say I will beare my selfe proudly, if I
perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she
will rather die than giue any signe of affection: I did neuer
thinke to marry, I must not seeme proud, happy are
they that heare their detractions, and can put them to
mending: they say the Lady is faire, 'tis a truth, I can
beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue
it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is
no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her
folly; for I wil be horribly in loue with her, I may chance
haue some odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken
on mee, because I haue rail'd so long against marriage:
but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in
his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips
and sentences, and these paper bullets of the braine awe
a man from the careere of his humour? No, the world
must be peopled. When I said I would die a batcheler, I
did not think I should liue till I were maried, here comes
Beatrice: by this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe spie some
markes of loue in her.
Enter Beatrice.
Beat.
Against my wil I am sent to bid you come in to
dinner.
Bene.
Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines.
Beat.
I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then
you take paines to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I
would not haue come.
Bene.
You take pleasure then in the message.
Beat.
Yea iust so much as you may take vpon a kniues
point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomacke
signior, fare you well.
Exit.
Bene.
Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come
into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I tooke
no more paines for those thankes then you tooke paines
to thanke me, that's as much as to say, any paines that I
take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take pitty
of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I
will goe get her picture.
Exit.
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