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Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart’s desire!
Hero. These gloves the count sent me; they are an 055 excellent perfume.
Beat. I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell.
057 Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there’s goodly catching of cold.
Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have 060 you professed apprehension?
Marg. Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?
Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.
065 Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm.
Hero. There thou prickest her with a thistle.
Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some 070 moral in this Benedictus.
Marg. Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love: nay, by’r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I 075 can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart 076 out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would 079 never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats 080 his meat without grudging: and how you may be converted, I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do.
083 Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
Marg. Not a false gallop.
Re-enter Ursula.
085 Urs. Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church.
Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt.
000 Scene V. Another room in Leonato’s house.
MAAN III. 5 Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.
Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour?
Dog. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly.
004 Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time 005 with me.
Dog. Marry, this it is, sir.
Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir.
Leon. What is it, my good friends?
009 Dog. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter: 010 an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God 011 help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows.
Verg. Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.
015 Dog. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges.
Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.
Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke’s officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were 020 as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.
Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ah?
023 Dog. Yea, an ’twere a thousand pound more than ’tis; for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any 025 man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.
Verg. And so am I.
Leon. I would fain know what you have to say.
Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your 030 worship’s presence, ha’ ta’en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina.
Dog. A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out: God help us! it is a world to see. Well said, i’ faith, neighbour Verges: well, 035 God’s a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest soul, i’ faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread; but God is to be worshipped; all men are not alike; alas, good neighbour!
Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.
040 Dog. Gifts that God gives.
Leon. I must leave you.
042 Dog. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended 043 two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.
045 Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it 046 me: I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.
047 Dog. It shall be suffigance.
048 Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter 050 to her husband.
051 Leon. I’ll wait upon them: I am ready. [Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.
Dog. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now 054 to examination these men.
055 Verg. And we must do it wisely.
056 Dog. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here’s 057 that shall drive some of them to a noncome: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt.
ACT IV.
000 Scene I. A church.
MAAN IV. 1 Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar Francis, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, Beatrice, and attendants.
Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.
004 Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.
005 Claud. No.
006 Leon. To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her.
Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this 009 count.
010 Hero. I do.
Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utter it.
Claud. Know you any, Hero?
015 Hero. None, my lord.
Friar. Know you any, count?
Leon. I dare make his answer, none.
Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what 019 men daily do, not knowing what they do!
020 Bene. How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as, ah, ha, he!
Claud. Stand thee by, Friar. Father, by your leave:
Will you with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid, your daughter?
025 Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.
Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.
030 There, Leonato, take her back again:
Give not this rotten orange to your friend;
She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour.
Behold how like a maid she blushes here!
O, what authority and show of truth
035 Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood as modest evidence
To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,
All you that see her, that she were a maid,
By these exterior shows? But she is none:
040 She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
042 Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Not to be married,
043 Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.
044 Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,
045 Have vanquish’d the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginity,—
Claud. I know what you would say: if I have known her,
048 You will say she did embrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the ’forehand sin:
050 No, Leonato,
I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to his sister, show’d
Bashful sincerity and comely love.
Hero. And seem’d I ever otherwise to you?
055 Claud. Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it:
056 You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pamper’d animals
060 That rage in savage sensuality.
061 Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide?
062 Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?
What should I speak?
I stand dishonour’d, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common stale.
065 Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.
True! O God!
Claud. Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the prince? is this the prince’s brother?
070 Is this face Hero’s? are our eyes our own?
Leon. All this is so: but what of this, my lord?
Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter;
And, by that fatherly and kindly power
That you have in her, bid her answer truly.
075 Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
Hero. O, God defend me! how am I beset!
What kind of catechising call you this?
078 Claud. To make you answer truly to your name.
Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
With any just reproach?
080 Marry, that can Hero;
081 Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue.
What man was he talk’d with you yesternight
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
085 Hero. I talk’d with no man at that hour, my lord.
086 D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night
090 Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window;
091 Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confess’d the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.
094 D. John. Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord,
095 Not to be spoke of;
There is not chastity enough in language,
097 Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.
Claud. O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been,
100 If half thy outward graces had been placed
101 About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,
Thou pure impiety and impious purity!
For thee I’ll lock up all the gates of love,
105 And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.
108 Leon. Hath no man’s dagger here a point for me? [Hero swoons.
Beat. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down?
D. John. Come, let us go. These things, come thus to 110 light,
111 Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio.
112 Bene. How doth the lady?
Dead, I think. Help, uncle!
Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!
Leon. O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand.
115 Death is the fairest cover for her shame
That may be wish’d for.
How now, cousin Hero!
Friar. Have comfort, lady.
118 Leon. Dost thou look up?
Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not?
120 Leon. Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
125 Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
126 Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one?
128 Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame?
129 O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
130 Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
131 Why had I not with charitable hand
Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates,
133 Who smirched thus and mired with infamy,
I might have said, ‘No part of it is mine;
135 This shame derives itself from unknown loins’?
136 But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her,—why, she, O, she is fallen
140 Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And salt too little which may season give
143 To her foul-tainted flesh!
Sir, sir, be patient.
For my part, I am so attired in wonder,
145 I know not what to say.
Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!
Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
150 Leon. Confirm’d, confirm’d! O, that is stronger made
Which was before barr’d up with ribs of iron!
152 Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash’d it with tears? Hence from her! let her die.
155 Friar. Hear me a little;
156 For I have only been silent so long,
157 And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady: I have mark’d
159 A thousand blushing apparitions
160 To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames
161 In angel whiteness beat away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear’d a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool;
165 Trust not my reading nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
167 The tenour of my book; trust not my age,
168 My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.
170 Friar, it cannot be.
Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
Is that she will not add to her damnation
A sin of perjury; she not denies it:
Why seek’st thou, then, to cover with excuse
175 That which appears in proper nakedness?
Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accused of?
Hero. They know that do accuse me; I know none:
If I know more of any man alive
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
180 Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father,
Prove you that any man with me conversed
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain’d the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!
185 Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes.
186 Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour;
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
188 The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
189 Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.
190 Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her,
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour,
192 The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
195 Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
197 But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
200 Pause awhile,
And let my counsel sway you in this case.
202 Your daughter here the princes left for dead:
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it that she is dead indeed;
205 Maintain a mourning ostentation,
And on your family’s old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.
Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do?
210 Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf
Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain’d,
215 Upon the instant that she was accused,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused
217 Of every hearer: for it so falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth
219 Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack’d and lost,
220 Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us
222 Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
224 The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
225 Into his study of imagination;
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell’d in more precious habit,
228 More moving-delicate and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
230 Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn,
If ever love had interest in his liver,
And wish he had not so accused her,
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
235 Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell’d false,
The supposition of the lady’s death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
240 And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you:
245 And though you know my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly as your soul
Should with your body.
249 Being that I flow in grief,
250 The smallest twine may lead me.
Friar. ’Tis well consented: presently away;
For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.
Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day
254 Perhaps is but prolong’d: have patience and endure. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice.
255 Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?
Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Bene. I will not desire that.
Beat. You have no reason; I do it freely.
Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.
260 Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!
Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?
Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.
Bene. May a man do it?
265 Beat. It is a man’s office, but not yours.
Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?
Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but 270 believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.
Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.
273 Beat. Do not swear, and eat it.
Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will 275 make him eat it that says I love not you.
Beat. Will you not eat your word?
Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee.
Beat. Why, then, God forgive me!
280 Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice?
Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved you.
Bene. And do it with all thy heart.
Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none 285 is left to protest.
Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Beat. Kill Claudio.
Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.
289 Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell.
290 Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.
Beat. I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go.
Bene. Beatrice,—
Beat. In faith, I will go.
295 Bene. We’ll be friends first.
Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.
Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?
299 Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that 300 hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,—O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.
305 Bene. Hear me, Beatrice,—
Beat. Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!
Bene. Nay, but, Beatrice,—
Beat. Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, 310 she is undone.
311 Bene. Beat—
312 Beat. Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, 313 a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had 315 any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is 316 melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men 317 are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie, and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a 320 woman with grieving.
Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.
Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.
Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath 325 wronged Hero?
Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.
Bene. Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I 328 will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, 329 Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of 330 me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell. [Exeunt.
000 Scene II. A prison.
MAAN IV. 2 Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, with Conrade and Borachio.
001 Dog. Is our whole dissembly appeared?
002 Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.
Sex. Which be the malefactors?
004 Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner.
005 Verg. Nay, that’s certain; we have the exhibition to examine.
Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master constable.
Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is 010 your name, friend?
Bora. Borachio.
Dog. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?
Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.
Dog. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, 015 do you serve God?
Con. Bora. 016 Yea, sir, we hope.
Dog. Write down, that they hope they serve God: and write God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already that you 020 are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves?
Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none.
Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a word 025 in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.
Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none.
Dog. Well, stand aside. ’Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down, that they are none?
030 Sex. Master constable, you go not the way to examine: 031 you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.
032 Dog. Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way. Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s name, accuse these men.
035 First Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince’s brother, was a villain.
Dog. Write down, Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain.
039 Bora. Master constable,—
040 Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I promise thee.
Sex. What heard you him say else?
Sec. Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand 044 ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero 045 wrongfully.
Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed.
047 Verg. Yea, by mass, that it is.
Sex. What else, fellow?
First Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon 050 his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her.
Dog. O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.
Sex. What else?
055 Watch. This is all.
Sex. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died. Master Constable, let 060 these men be bound, and brought to Leonato’s: I will go before and show him their examination. [Exit.
Dog. Come, let them be opinioned.
063 Verg. Let them be in the hands—
Con. Off, coxcomb!
065 Dog. God’s my life, where’s the sexton? let him write 066 down, the prince’s officer, coxcomb. Come, bind them. Thou naughty varlet!
068 Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.
Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not 070 suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow; and, which 075 is more, an officer; and, which is more, a householder; and, 076 which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, 078 go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him. Bring 080 him away. O that I had been writ down an ass! [Exeunt.