1 10 11 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/a3429e7f3575a418541baabab0938bf2.pdf 799086beea47c7e393fe58224dd28d37 PDF Text Text Much Ado about Nothing Szerk. Alexander Pope ACT I. SCENE I. [A Court before Leonato's House, Enter Leonato, Innogen, Hero and Beatrice, with a Messenger] LEONATO I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. MESSENGER He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him. LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? MESSENGER But few of any sort, and none of name. LEONATO A victory is twice it self, when the atchiever brings home full numbers; I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, call'd Claudio. MESSENGER Much deserved on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro: he hath born himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion: he hath indeed better better'd expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. MESSENGER I have already delivered him letters, and there ap[480] pears much joy in him, even so much, that joy could not shew it self modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. LEONATO �Did he break out into tears? MESSENGER In great measure. LEONATO A kind overflow of kindness; there are no faces truer than those that are so wash'd; how much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping? BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from the wars or no? MESSENGER I know none of that name, Lady; there was none such in the army of any sort. LEONATO What is he that you ask for, neice? HERO My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. MESSENGER O he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. BEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina, and challeng'd Cupid at the flight? and my uncle's fool reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the burbolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? but how many hath he kill'd? for indeed I promise to eat all of his killing. LEONATO 'Faith, neice, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. MESSENGER He hath done good service, Lady, in these wars. BEATRICE You had musty victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent stomach. MESSENGER And a good soldier too, Lady. �BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady? but what is he to a lord? MESSENGER A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuft with all honourable virtues. BEATRICE It is so indeed, he is no less than a stuft man: but for the stuffing well, we are all mortal. [481] LEONATO You must not, Sir, mistake my neice; there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them. BEATRICE Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd with one: So that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse, for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? he hath every month a new sworn brother. MESSENGER Is it possible? BEATRICE Very easily possible; he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block. MESSENGER I see, Lady, the gentleman is not in your books. BEATRICE No; if he were I would burn my study. But I pray you who is his companion? is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil? MESSENGER He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. �BEATRICE O lord, he will hang upon him like a disease; he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere it be cur'd. MESSENGER I will hold friends with you Lady, BEATRICE Do good friend. LEONATO You'll ne'er run mad, neice. BEATRICE No, not 'till a hot January. MESSENGER Don Pedro is approach'd. [Qqq] [482] SCENE II. [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and Don John.] PEDRO Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. LEONATO Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. PEDRO You embrace your charge most willingly: I think this is your daughter. LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so. BENEDICK Were you in doubt, that you askt her? �LEONATO Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a child. PEDRO You have it full Benedick, you may guess by this what you are, being a man: truly the lady fathers her self; be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father. BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. BEATRICE I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick, no body marks you. BENEDICK What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? BEATRICE Is it possible disdain should die, while she hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? courtesie it self must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence. BENEDICK Then is courtesie a turn-coat; but it is certain I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. BEATRICE A dear happiness to women, they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold [483] blood, I am of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me. BENEDICK God keep your ladyship still in that mind, so some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face. BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse, if 'twere such a face as yours were. BENEDICK Well you are a rare parrot teacher. �BEATRICE A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of yours. BENEDICK I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer; but keep your way a God's name, I have done. BEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick, I know you of old. PEDRO This is the sum of all: Leonato, Signior Claudio, and Signior Benedick; my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all; I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartily prays fome occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. LEONATO If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. Let me bid you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the prince your brother; I owe you all duty. JOHN I thank you, I am not of many words, but I thank you. LEONATO Please it your grace lead on? PEDRO Your hand Leonato, we will go together. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio.] SCENE III. CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? BENEDICK I noted her not, but I look'd on her. CLAUDIO Is she not a modest young lady? �[Qqq 2] [484] BENEDICK Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? CLAUDIO No, I pry'thee speak in sober judgment. BENEDICK Why i'faith methinks she is too low for an high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. CLAUDIO Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her. BENEDICK Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel? BENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into; but speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? come, in what key shall a man take you, to go in the song? CLAUDIO In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that I ever look'd on. BENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter; there's her cousin, if she were not possest with such a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: but I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you? CLAUDIO I would scarce trust my self, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. �BENEDICK Is't come to this, in faith? hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion? shall I never see a batchelor of threescore again? go to i' faith, if thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays: look, Don Pedro is return'd to seek you. [485] SCENE IV. [Re-enter Don Pedro and Don John.] PEDRO What secret hath held you here, that you follow'd not to Leonato's house? BENEDICK I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. PEDRO I charge thee on thy allegiance. BENEDICK You hear, Count Claudio, I cannot 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 whom? now that is your Grace's part: mark how short his answer is, with Hero, Leonato's short daughter. CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered. BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so; but indeed, God forbid it should be so. CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. PEDRO Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy. CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord. �PEDRO By my troth I speak my thought. CLAUDIO And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine. BENEDICK And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speak mine. CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel. PEDRO That she is worthy I know. BENEDICK 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. PEDRO Thou wast ever an obstinate heretick in the despight of beauty. [486] CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will. BENEDICK 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 recheate 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 my self the right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a batchelor. PEDRO I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. BENEDICK 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. PEDRO Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. BENEDICK If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and call'd Adam. PEDRO Well, as time shall try; in time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. BENEDICK 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 signifie under my sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd man. CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou would'st be horn-mad. PEDRO Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too then. PEDRO Well you will temporize with the hours; in the mean [487] 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. BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage, and so I commit you. CLAUDIO To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it. PEDRO �The sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedick. BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not; the 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.] SCENE V. CLAUDIO My Liege, your highness now may do me good. PEDRO My love is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. CLAUDIO Hath Leonato any son, my lord? PEDRO No child but Hero, she's his only heir: Dost thou affect her, Claudio? CLAUDIO 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. PEDRO Thou wilt be like a lover presently, And tire the hearer with a book of words: [488] If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, And I'll break with her: was't not to this end, That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? CLAUDIO �How sweetly do you minister to love, That know love's grief by his complection! But left my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. PEDRO What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity; Look what will serve, is fit; 'tis once thou lovest, And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have revelling to-night, I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart, And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale: Then after to her father will I break, And the conclusion is, she shall be thine; In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt. Re-enter Leonato and Antonio.] LEONATO How now brother, where is my cousin your son? hath he provided this musick? ANTONIO He is very busie about it; but brother, I can tell you news that you yet dream'd not of. LEONATO Are they good? ANTONIO As the event stamps them, but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard, were thus over-heard by a man of mine: the Prince discover'd to Claudio that he lov'd my neice your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and if he found her accordant, [489] meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it. LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? �ANTONIO A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him your self. LEONATO No, no; we will hold it as a dream, 'till it appear it self: but I will acquaint my daughter with all, that she may be the better prepared for answer, if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of it: 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 cousin have a care this busie time. [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. [SCENE changes. Enter Don John and Conrade.] CONRADE What the good year my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore the sadness is without limit. CONRADE You should hear reason. JOHN And when I have heard it, what blessing bringeth it? CONRADE If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. JOHN I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsie, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. CONRADE Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, 'till you may do it without controlement; you have of late stood [R r r] �[490] out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the fair weather that you make your self; it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing villain; I am trusted with a muzzel, and infranchised with a clog, therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent? JOHN I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? what news, Borachio? [Enter Borachio.] BORACHIO I came yonder from a great supper; the Prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? what is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? BORACHIO Marry it is your brother's right hand. JOHN Who, the most exquisite Claudio? BORACHIO Even he. JOHN A proper Squire; and who, and who? which way looks he? �BORACHIO Marry on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. JOHN A very forward March chick! How come you to this? BORACHIO Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking in a musty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the arras, and there heard [491] it agreed upon that the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio. JOHN Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my displeasure: that young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any way, I bless my self every way; you are both sure, and will assist me? CONRADE To the death, my lord. JOHN Let us to the great supper, their cheer is the greater that I am subdu'd; would the cook were of my mind: shall we go prove what's to be done? BORACHIO We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.] ACT II. SCENE I. [Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Innogen, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret and Ursula.] LEONATO Was not Count John here at supper? ANTONIO I saw him not. BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I �never can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after. HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition. BEATRICE He were an excellent man that were made just in the mid-way 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 tatling. LEONATO Then half Signior Benedict's tongue in Count John's [R r r 2] [492] mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedict's face----BEATRICE With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, and mony enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good-will. LEONATO By my troth, neice, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. ANTONIO In faith she's too curst. BEATRICE 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. LEONATO So by being too curst, God will send you no horns. BEATRICE 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 lye in woollen. LEONATO �You may light upon a husband that hath no beard. BEATRICE 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 fix pence in earnest of the bearherd, and lead his apes into hell. LEONATO Well then, go you into hell. BEATRICE No, but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and say, get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heav'n, here's no place for you maids: so deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns; he shews me where the batchelors fit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. ANTONIO Well neice, I trust you will be rul'd by your father. [To Hero.] [493] BEATRICE Yes faith, it is my cousin's duty to make curtsie, and say, as it please you; but yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsie, and say, father, as it pleases me. LEONATO Well neice, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. BEATRICE Not 'till God make men of some other metal than earth; would it not grieve a woman to be over-master'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make account of her life to a clod of wayward marle? no, uncle, I'll none; Adam's sons are my brethren,. and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEONATO Daughter, remember what I told you if the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your answer. �BEATRICE The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; if the prince be too importunate, tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the Answer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is 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 anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into his grave. LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by daylight. LEONATO The revellers are entring, brother; make good room. SCENE II. [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade.] PEDRO Lady, will you walk about with your friend? [494] HERO So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk 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 favour; for God defend the lute should be like the case. �PEDRO My visor is Philemon's roof, within the house is love. HERO Why then your visor should be thatch'd. PEDRO Speak low, if you speak love. BENEDICK Well, I would you did like me. MARGARET So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities. BENEDICK Which is one? MARGARET I say my Prayers aloud. BENEDICK I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen. MARGARET God match me with a good dancer. BALTHAZAR Amen. MARGARET And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done: answer clerk. BALTHAZAR No more words, the clerk is answer'd. URSULA I know you well enough, you are Signior Antonio. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA I know you by the wagling of your head. �ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him. URSULA You could never do him so ill, well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA Come, come, do you think I do not know you by [495] your excellent wit? can virtue hide it self? go to, mum, you are he; graces will appear, and there's an end. BEATRICE Will you not tell me who told you so? BENEDICK No, you shall pardon me. BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me who you are? BENEDICK Not now. BEATRICE 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. BENEDICK What's he? BEATRICE I am sure you know him well enough. BENEDICK Not I, believe me. BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh? BENEDICK �I pray you what is he? BEATRICE 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 villany; for he 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 boarded me. BENEDICK When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. BEATRICE Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me, which peradventure not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. BENEDICK In every good thing. BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt.] [496] SCENE III. [Musick for the Dance.] 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. BORACHIO And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing. JOHN Are not you Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO You know me well, I am he. �JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero, I pray you dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it. CLAUDIO How know you he loves her? JOHN I heard him swear his affection. BORACHIO So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight. JOHN Come let us to the banquet. [Exeunt John and Borachio.] CLAUDIO Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so, the prince woos for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love; Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues, Let every eye negotiate for it self, And trust no agent; beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewel then, Hero! [Enter Benedick.] BENEDICK Count Claudio? [497] CLAUDIO Yea the same. BENEDICK Come, will you go with me? CLAUDIO �Whither? BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own business, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an 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. CLAUDIO I wish him joy of her. BENEDICK Why that's spoken like an honest drover; so they sell bullocks: but did you think the Prince would have served you thus? CLAUDIO I pray you leave me. BENEDICK Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. CLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit.] BENEDICK Alas poor hurt fowle, now will he creep into sedges. But that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! the Prince's fool! ha? it may be I go under that title, because I am merry; yea, but so I am apt to do my self wrong: I am not so reputed. It is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may. SCENE IV. [Enter Don Pedro.] PEDRO Now Signior, where's the Count? did you see him? BENEDICK Troth my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the will of this young lady, and I offered him my company to a �[S f f] [498] willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him a rod, as being worthy to be whipt. PEDRO To be whipt! what's his fault? BENEDICK The flat transgression of a school-boy, who being over-joy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it. PEDRO Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer. BENEDICK 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 stoln his bird's nest. PEDRO I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say honestly. PEDRO The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you. BENEDICK O she misus'd me past the indurance of a block; an oak but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been my self, that I was the Prince's jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw; hudling jest upon jest, with such impossible conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me; she speaks Ponyards, and every word stabs; if her breath were as terrible as terminations, there were no �living near her, she would infect to the North-Star; I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd; she would have made Hercules have turn'd spit, yea and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her the infer[499] nal Ate in good apparel. I would to God conjure her, for certainly while she is as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary, and pose, because they would go thither; so ror, and perturbation follow her. some scholar would here a man may live people sin upon purindeed all disquiet, hor- SCENE V. [Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero.] PEDRO Look here she comes. BENEDICK Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any embassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy; you have no employment for me? PEDRO None, but to desire your good company. BENEDICK O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. I cannot indure this Lady's tongue. [Exit.] PEDRO Come Lady, come, you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. BEATRICE Indeed my Lord, he lent it me a while, 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. �PEDRO You have put him down, Lady, you have put him down. BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools: I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. PEDRO Why how now Count, wherefore are you sad? [S f f 2] [500] CLAUDIO Not sad, my Lord. PEDRO How then? sick? CLAUDIO Neither, my Lord. BEATRICE The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil Count, civil as an orange, and something of a jealous complexion. PEDRO I'faith Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes; his Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it. BEATRICE Speak Count, 'tis your cue. CLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give away my self for you, and doat up- �on the exchange. BEATRICE Speak Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. PEDRO In faith Lady, you have a merry heart. BEATRICE 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 my heart. CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin. BEATRICE Good Lord, for alliance! thus goes every 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. BEATRICE 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. [501] PEDRO Will you have me, Lady? BEATRICENo, 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. PEDRO Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for out of question you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No sure my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a star danc'd, and under that I was born. Cousins, God give you joy. �LEONATO Neice, will you look to those things I told you of? BEATRICE I cry you mercy, uncle: by your Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice.] SCENE VI. PEDRO By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady. LEONATO There's little of the melancholy element in her, my Lord; she is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dream'd of unhappiness, and wak'd her self with laughing. PEDRO She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. LEONATO O by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of suit. PEDRO She were an excellent wife for Benedick. LEONATO O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd they would talk themselves mad. PEDRO Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church ? CLAUDIO To-morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches, 'till love have all his rites. LEONATO Not 'till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night, and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. [502] PEDRO Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but �I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will in the Interim undertake one of Hercules's labours, which is to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other; I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. LEONATO My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings. CLAUDIO And I my Lord. PEDRO And you too, gentle Hero? HERO I will do any modest office, my Lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. PEDRO And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far can I praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approv'd valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practice on Benedick, that in despight of his quick wit, and his queasie stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice: if we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be ours, for we are the only LoveGods; go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt.] SCENE VII. [SCENE changes. Enter Don John and Borachio.] JOHN It is so, the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. BORACHIO Yea my Lord, but I can cross it. JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me; I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever �[503] comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? BORACHIO Not honestly my Lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. JOHN Shew me briefly how. BORACHIO I think I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero. JOHN I remember. BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's chamber window. JOHN What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage? BORACHIO The poison of that lyes in you to temper; go you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his honour in marrying the renown'd Claudio, (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. JOHN What proof shall I make of that? BORACHIO Proof enough, to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you for any other issue? JOHN Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. BORACHIO Go then find me a meet hour, to draw on Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them that you know Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in a love of your brother's honour who hath made this match, and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the �semblance of a maid, that you have discover'd thus; they will hardly believe this without tryal: offer them instances which shall bear no less likelihood than to fee me at her chamber window, hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudio, and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding; for in the mean time I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such seeming [504] truths of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousie shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. BORACHIO Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. JOHN I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exe.] SCENE VIII. [Leonato's Garden. Enter Benedick and a Boy.] BENEDICK Boy. BOY Signior. BENEDICK In my chamber window lyes a book, bring it hither to me in the orchard. BOY I am here already, Sir. [Exit Boy.] BENEDICK I know that, but I would have thee hence, and here again. I do much wonder, that one man seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviours to love, �will after he hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love! and such a man is Claudio, I have known when there was no musick with him but the drum and the fife, and now had he rather hear the taber and the pipe : I have known when he would have walk'd ten mile a-foot, to see a good armour; and now will he lye ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier, and now is he turn'd orthographer, his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I can[505] not tell, I think not. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool: one woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But 'till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; "wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her: fair, or I'll never look on her;" mild, or come not near me; noble, or not for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. SCENE IX. [Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthazar.] PEDRO Come, shall we hear this musick? CLAUDIO Yea, my good lord; how still the evening is, As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony. PEDRO See you where Benedick hath hid himself? CLAUDIO O very well, my lord; the musick ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. PEDRO Come Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. BALTHAZAR �O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander musick any more than once. PEDRO It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection; I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more. [T t t] [506] The SONG. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blith and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nony, nony. Sing no more ditties, sing no more, Of dumps so dull and heavy; The frauds of men were ever so, Since summer first was leafy: Then sigh not so, &c. PEDRO By my troth a good song. BALTHAZAR And an ill singer, my lord. PEDRO Ha, no; no faith; thou sing'st well enough for shift. BENEDICK If he had been a dog that should have howl'd thus they would have hang'd him, and I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief; I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. PEDRO Yea marry, dost thou hear Balthazar? I pray thee [507] �get us some excellent musick; for to-morrow we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber window. BALTHAZAR The best I can, my lord. [Exit Balthazar.] PEDRO Do so: farewell. Come hither Leonato; what was it you told me of to-day, that your neice Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO O ay, stalk on; stalk on, the fowl fits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man. LEONATO No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. BENEDICK Is't possible, sits the wind in that corner? LEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. PEDRO May be she doth but counterfeit. CLAUDIO Faith like enough. LEONATO O God! counterfeit? there was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. PEDRO Why, what effects of passion shews she? CLAUDIO Bait the hook well, the fish will bite. LEONATO What effects, my lord? she will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. �CLAUDIO She did indeed. PEDRO How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. LEONATO I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially against Benedick. BENEDICK I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot sure hide himself in such reverence. [T t t 2] [508] CLAUDIO He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. PEDRO Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? LEONATO No, and swears she never will, that's her torment. CLAUDIO 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter says: shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him? LEONATO This says she now, when she is beginning to write to him; for she'll be up twenty times a-night, and there will she sit in her smock, 'till she have writ a sheet of paper; my daughter tells us all. CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. LEONATO O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet. �CLAUDIO That. LEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, rail'd at her self, that she should be so immodest, to write to one that she knew wou'd flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own spirit, for I should flout him if he writ to me, yea though I love him, I should. CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; O sweet Benedick! God give me patience! LEONATO She doth indeed, my daughter says so, and the ecstasie hath so much overborn her, that my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a desperate outrage to her self; it is very true. PEDRO It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. CLAUDIO To what end? he would torment the poor lady PEDRO If he should, it were excellent sweet lady, but make a sport of it, and worse. an alms to hang him; she's an and (but of all suspicion) she is virtuous. CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise. [509] PEDRO In every thing, but in loving Benedick. LEONATO O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. PEDRO I would she had bestow'd this dotage on me; I would have dofft all other respects, and made her half my self; I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. �LEONATO Were it good, think you? CLAUDIO Hero thinks surely she will die, for she says she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustom'd crossness. PEDRO She doth well; if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. CLAUDIO He is a very proper man. PEDRO He hath indeed a good outward happiness. CLAUDIO 'Fore God, and in my mind very wise. PEDRO He doth indeed shew some sparks that are like wit. LEONATO And I take him to be valiant. PEDRO As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may see he is wise, for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a christian-like fear. Well, I am sorry for your neice: shall we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love? CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord, let her wear it out with good counsel. [510] LEONATO Nay, that's impossible, she may wear her heart out first. PEDRO Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; �let it cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. LEONATO My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. CLAUDIO If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. PEDRO 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 an opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that I would see, which will be meerly a dumb shew; let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Exeunt.] SCENE X. BENEDICK This can be no trick, the conference was sadly born; they have the truth of this from Hero, they seem to pity the lady; it seems her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited: I hear how I am censur'd; they say I will bear my self proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection--- I did never think to marry---- I must not seem proud--- happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness: and virtuous;'tis so, I cannot reprove it: and wise, but for loving me---by my troth it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her,--- I may chance to have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite al[511] ter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quipps and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? no: the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a batchelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day she's a fair lady, I do spy some marks of love in her. �[Enter Beatrice.] BEATRICE Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. BEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message. BEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no stomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit.] BENEDICK Ha! against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner: there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me; that's as much as to say, any pains that I take for you is as easie as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her picture. [Exit.] [512] ACT III. SCENE I. [Continues in the Garden. Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.] HERO Good Margaret run thee into the parlour, There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the prince and Claudio; Whisper her ear, and tell her I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her say that thou overheard'st us, And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 'Where honey-suckles ripen'd by the sun 'Forbid the sun to enter; like to favourites �'Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 'Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her, To listen to our purpose; this is thy office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. MARGARET I'll make her come I warrant presently. [Exit.] HERO Now Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick; When I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice; of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hear-say: now begin. [513] [Enter Beatrice.] For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs Close by the ground to hear our conference. URSULA The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait; So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now Is couched in the woodbine coverture; Fear you not my part of the dialogue. HERO Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. No truly Ursula she's too disdainful, I know her spirits are as coy and wild, As haggerds of the rock. URSULA But are you sure That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely? HERO So says the prince, and my new trothed lord. �URSULA And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? HERO They did intreat me to acquaint her of it; But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrastle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. URSULA Why did you so? doth not the gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed. As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? HERO O God of love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: But nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Mis-prizing what they look on, and her wit Values it self so highly, that to her [U u u] [514] All matter else seems weak; she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-indeared. URSULA Sure I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. HERO Why you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, But she would spell him backward; 'if fair-fac'd, 'She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister; 'If black, why nature drawing of an antick, 'Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed; 'If low, an agat very vilely cut; 'If speaking, why a vane blown with all winds; 'If silent, why a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. �URSULA Sure, sure such carping is not commendable. HERO No, for to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? if I should speak, She'd mock me into air, O she would laugh me Out of my self, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly; It were a bitter death to die with mocks, Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling. URSULA Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say. HERO No, rather I will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And truly I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with; one doth not know [515] How much an ill word may impoison liking. URSULA O do not do your cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment, (Having so sweet and excellent a wit, As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Benedick. HERO He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. URSULA I pray you be not angry with me, Madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, Goes formost in report through Italy. HERO Indeed he hath an excellent good name. URSULA �His excellence did earn it ere he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam? HERO Why every day, to-morrow; come go in, I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. URSULA She's ta'en, I warrant you; we have caught her, Madam. HERO If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupids kill with arrows, some with traps. [Exeunt.] BEATRICE What fire is in my ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? Contempt farewel, and maiden pride adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And Benedick love on, I will requite thee. Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit.] [U u u 2] [516] SCENE II. [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.] PEDRO I Do but stay 'till your marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. CLAUDIO I'll bring you thither my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. PEDRO Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his com- �pany, for from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been. LEONATO So say I; methinks you are sadder. CLAUDIO I hope he is in love. PEDRO Hang him truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; if he be sad, he wants mony. BENEDICK I have the tooth-ach. PEDRO Draw it. BENEDICK Hang it. CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. PEDRO What? sigh for the tooth-ach! LEONATO Which is but a humour, or a worm. BENEDICK Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. CLAUDIO Yet say I he is in love. PEDRO There is no appearance of fancy a fancy that he hath to strange to-day, a French man to-morrow; foolery, as it appears he hath, would have it to appear he is. in him, unless it be disguises, as to be a Dutch man unless he have a fancy to this he is no fool for fancy, as you �[5] [517] CLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs; he brushes his hat a-mornings: what should that bode? PEDRO Hath any man seen him at the barber's? CLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuft tennis balls. LEONATO Indeed he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard. PEDRO Nay he rubs himself with civet, can you smell him out by that? CLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. PEDRO The greatest note of it is his melancholy. CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face? PEDRO Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say of him. CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string, and now govern'd by stops----PEDRO Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude he is in love. CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him. �PEDRO That would I know too: I warrant one that knows him not. CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him. PEDRO She shall be bury'd with her face upwards. BENEDICK Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old Signior, walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wise words to speak to you which these hobby-horses must not hear. PEDRO For my life to break with him about Beatrice. CLAUDIO 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. [518] SCENE III. [Enter Don John.] JOHN My Lord and brother, God save you. PEDRO Good den, brother. JOHN If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. PEDRO In private? JOHN If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him. PEDRO What's the matter? �JOHN Means your lordship to be marry'd to-morrow? [To Claudio.] PEDRO You know he does. JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I know. CLAUDIO If there be any impediment I pray you discover it. JOHN You may think I love you not, let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest; for my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage; surely, suit ill spent, and labour ill bestow'd. PEDRO Why, what's the matter? JOHN I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal. CLAUDIO Who? Hero? JOHN Even she, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. CLAUDIO Disloyal? JOHN The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not 'till further warrant; go but with me tonight, you shall see her chamber window enter'd, even the night [519] before her wedding-day; if you love her, then to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. CLAUDIO �May this be so? PEDRO I will not think it. JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know; if you will follow me, I will shew you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. CLAUDIO If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation where I should wed, there will I shame her. PEDRO And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. JOHN I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are my witnesses; bear it coldly but 'till night, and let the issue shew it self. PEDRO O day untowardly turned! CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting! JOHN O plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. [The Street. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch.] DOGBERRY Are you good men and true? VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. DOGBERRY Nay that were a punishment too good for them, if they �should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's WATCH VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. DOGBERRY First, who think you the most disartless man to be constable? [520] 1 WATCH Hugh Oatecake, Sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read. DOGBERRY Come hither neighbour Seacoal: God hath blest you with a good name; to be a well-favour'd man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. 2 WATCH Both which, master constable----DOGBERRY You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, Sir, why give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity: you are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch, therefore bear you the lanthorn; this is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Prince's name. 2 WATCH How if he will not stand? DOGBERRY Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. VERGES If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's subjects. DOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's subjects: you shall also make no noise in the streets; �for, for the watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endur'd. 2 WATCH We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch. DOGBERRY Why you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend; only have a care that your bills be not stollen: well, you are to call at all the alehouses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed. 2 WATCH How if they will not? DOGBERRY Why then let them alone 'till they are sober; if they [521] make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for. 2 WATCH Well, Sir. DOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him by vertue of your office to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty. 2 WATCH If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him ? DOGBERRY Truly by your office you may; but I think they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your company. VERGES You have been always call'd a merciful man, partner. DOGBERRY Truly I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. �VERGES If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 2 WATCH How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? DOGBERRY Why then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a call when he bleats. VERGES 'Tis very true. DOGBERRY This is the end of the charge: you, constable, are to present the Prince's own person, if you meet the Prince in the night you may stay him. VERGES Nay birlady, that I think he cannot. DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the statues, he may stay him; marry, not without the Prince be willing: for indeed the watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. VERGES Birlady, I think it be fo. DOGBERRY Ha, ha, ha! well, masters, good night; an there be [Xxx] [522] any matter of weight chances, call up me; keep your fellow's counsel and your own, and good night; come neighbour. 2 WATCH Well, masters, we hear our charge; let us go fit here upon the church bench 'till two, and then all to bed. DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch �about Signior Leonato's door, for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil to-night adieu; be vigilant I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.] SCENE V. [Enter Borachio and Conrade.] BORACHIO What, Conrade. WATCH Peace, stir not. [Aside.] BORACHIO Conrade, I say. CONRADE Here man, I am at thy elbow. BORACHIO Mass and my elbow itch'd, I thought there would a scab follow. CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that, and now forward with thy tale. BORACHIO Stand thee close then under this pent-house, for it drizles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. WATCH Some treason, masters; yet stand close. BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. CONRADE Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? BORACHIO Thou should'st rather ask if it were possible any villany should be so rich? for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. �CONRADE I wonder at it. BORACHIO That shews thou art unconfirm'd, thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak is nothing to a roan. CONRADE Yes it is apparel. [523] BORACHIO I mean the fashion. CONRADE Yes the fashion is the fashion. BORACHIO Tush, I may as well say the fool's the fool; but seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? WATCH I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief this seven years; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. BORACHIO Didst thou not hear some body? CONRADE No, 'twas the vane on the house. BORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is, how giddily he turns about all the hot-bloods between fourteen and five and thirty, sometimes fashioning them like Pharao's soldiers in the rechy painting, sometimes like the God Bell's priest in the old church-window, sometimes like the shaven Hercules in the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massie as his club. CONRADE All this I see, and see that the fashion wears oat more apparel than the man; but art not thou thy self giddy with the fashion, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? �BORACHIO Not so neither; but know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the lady Herd's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night— —I tell this tale vildly should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my master planted and plac'd, and possessed by my master Don John, saw far off in the orchard this amiable encounter. CONRADE And thought thy Margaret was Hero? BORACHIO Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths which first possest them, partly by the dark night which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made; away went Claudio enraged, [X X X 2] [524] swore he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the temple, and there before the whole congregation (name her with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again without a husband. 1 WATCH We charge you in the Prince's name stand. 1 WATCH Call up the right master constable, we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the common-wealth. 1 WATCH And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock. CONRADE Masters, masters. 2 WATCH You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. CONRADE Masters, never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. �BORACHIO We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken a up of these mens bills. CONRADE A commodity in question I warrant you: come we'll obey you. [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. [Leonato's House. Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.] HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. URSULA I will, lady. HERO And bid her come hither. URSULA Well. MARGARET Troth I think your other rebato were better. HERO No pray thee good Meg, I'll wear this. MARGARET By my troth it's not so good, and I warrant your cousin will say so. [525] HERO My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but this. MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion i'faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so. �HERO O, that exceeds, they say. MARGARET By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours; cloth of gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves and skirts, round, underborn with a bluish tinsel; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. HERO God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy. MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. HERO Fie upon thee, art not asham'd? MARGARET Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your lord honourable without marriage ? I think you would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a husband? none I think, if it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes. SCENE VII. [Enter Beatrice.] HERO Good morrow, coz. BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. HERO Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune? BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. MARGARET Clap us into Light o' love; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. �[526] BEATRICE Yes light o' love with your heels; then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns. MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. BEATRICE 'Tis almost five a clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready: by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho! MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H. MARGARET Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? MARGARET Nothing I, but God fend every one their heart's desire. HERO These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. MARGARETA A maid and stuffed! there's a goodly catching of cold. BEATRICE O God help me, God help me, how long have you professed apprehension? MARGARET Ever since you left it; doth not my wit become me rarely? BEATRICE It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By �my troth, I am sick. MARGARET Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart, it is the only thing for a qualm. HERO There thou prick'st her with a thistle. BEATRICE Benedictus? why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. MARGARET 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, birlady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with 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 never marry, and yet now in 527 despite of his heart he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do. BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? MARGARET Not a false gallop. URSULA 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.] SCENE VIII. [Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.] �LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbour? DOGBERRY Marry Sir I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly. LEONATO Brief I pray you, for you see 'tis a busy time with me. DOGBERRY Marry this it is, Sir. VERGES Yes in truth it is, Sir. LEONATO What is it, my good friends? DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter, an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as God help I would desire they were, but in faith as honest as the skin between his brows. VERGES Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man and no honester than I. DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges. LEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious. DOGBERRY It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but truly for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ha? [528] DOGBERRY Yea, and twice a thousand times more than 'tis, for �I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and tho' I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. VERGES And so am I. LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. VERGES Marry Sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, hath ta'en couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. DOGBERRY 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, he's a good man; an two men ride an horse, one must ride behind; an honest foul i'faith Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God is to be worship'd; all men are not alike, alas good neighbour! LEONATO Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you. DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives. LEONATO I must leave you. DOGBERRY One word, Sir; our watch have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examin'd before your worship. LEONATO Take their examination yourself, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. [Enter a Messenger.] �MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. LEONATO I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Exit LEONATO.] DOGBERRY Go good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men. [529] VERGES And we must do it wisely. DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant; here's that shall drive some of them to non-come. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the Jail. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE 1. [A church. Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice.] LEONATO Come, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. FRIAR You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady? CLAUDIO No. LEONATO To be marry'd to her, friar; you come to marry her. FRIAR Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count? �HERO I do. FRIAR If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your souls to utter it. CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? HERO None, my Lord. FRIAR Know you any, Count? LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. [Y y y] [530] CLAUDIO O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! BENEDICK How now! Interjections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he! CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave. Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid your daughter? LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me. CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? PEDRO Nothing, unless you render her again. CLAUDIO Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness: �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 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: She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; Her blush is guiltiness not modesty. LEONATO What do you mean, my Lord? CLAUDIO Not to be marry'd, Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. LEONATO Dear my Lord, if you in your own proof Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth. And made defeat of her virginity----CLAUDIO I know what you would say: if I have known her, You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin. No, Leonato, [531] I never tempted her with word too large. But as a brother to his sister, shew'd Bashful sincerity, and comely love. HERO And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? CLAUDIO Out on thy seeming, I will write against it; 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 That rage in savage sensuality. HERO �Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide ? LEONATO Sweet Prince, why speak not you? PEDRO What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale, LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial. HERO True! O God! CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother? Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? LEONATO All this is so but what of this, my lord? CLAUDIO 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. LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. HERO O God defend me, how am I beset! What kind of cathechizing call you this? LEONATO To make you answer truly to your name. HERO Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any just reproach? �CLAUDIO Marry that can Hero; [Y y y 2] [532] Hero her self 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. HERO I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord. PEDRO Why then you are no maiden. Leonato I am sorry you must hear; upon mine honour, My self, my brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window. Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. JOHN Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, Not to be spoken of; There is not chastity enough in language. Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. CLAUDIO O Hero I what a Hero hadst thou been. If half thy outward graces had been plac'd About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart? But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewel Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love. And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm. And never shall it more be gracious. LEONATO Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? BEATRICE Why how now cousin, wherefore sink you down? �JOHN Come, let us go; these things come thus to light Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt D.Pedro, D.John and Claudio.] [533] SCENE II. BENEDICK How doth the lady? BEATRICE Dead I think; help, uncle. Hero! why Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick! friar! LEONATO O fate! take not away thy heavy hand, Death is the fairest cover for her shame That may be wish'd for. BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero? FRIAR Have comfort, Lady. LEONATO Dost thou look up? FRIAR Yea, wherefore should she not? LEONATO 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, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, My self would on the rereward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had not I, with charitable hand, Took up a beggar's issue at my gates? Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamy, �I might have said, no part of it is mine, This shame derives it self from unknown loins? But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much, That I my self was to my self not mine, Valuing of her; why she, O she is fall'n [534] 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 To her foul tainted flesh. BENEDICK Sir, Sir, be patient; For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, I know not what to say. BEATRICE O, on my soul my cousin is bely'd. BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? BEATRICE No truly, not; altho' until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. LEONATO Confirm'd, confirm'd! O that is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron. Would the Prince lie? and Claudio would he lie, Who lov'd her so, that speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? hence from her, let her die. FRIAR Hear me a little, For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady. I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness bear 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, Trust not my reading, nor my obfervations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant �The tenure of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here, Under some biting error. LEONATO Friar, it cannot be; [535] 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, That which appears in proper nakedness? FRIAR Lady, what man is he you are accus'd 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, Let all my sins lack mercy. O my father, Prove you that any man with me convers'd At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. FRIAR There is some strange misprision in the Princes. BENEDICK Two of them have the very bent of honour, And if their wisdoms be mis-led in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. LEONATO I know not: if they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dry'd this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havock of my means, Nor my bad life rest me so much of friends, But they shall find awak'd 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. FRIAR Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princess (left for dead) 536 Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed: Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family's old monument Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. LEONATO What shall become of this? what will this do? FRIAR Marry, this well carry'd, 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 travel look for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Upon the instant that she was accus'd, Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd, Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not shew us Whilst it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio: 'When he shall hear she dy'd upon his words, 'Th' idea of her 'love shall sweetly creep 'Into his study of imagination, 'And every lovely organ of her life 'Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit; 'More moving, delicate, and full of life, 'Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 'Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest in his liver, And wish he had not so accused her; No, tho' he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not but success Will fashion the event in better shape [537] �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. 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. BENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: And tho' 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. LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, 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 Perhaps is but prolong'd: have patience and endure. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. [Manent Benedick and Beatrice.] BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. BENEDICK I will not desire that. BEATRICE You have no reason, I do it freely. BENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wrong'd. BEATRICE �Ah how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! BENEDICK Is there any way to shew such friendship? [Z z z] [538] BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. BENEDICK May a man do it? BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours. BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange? BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not; it were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you; but believe me not; and yet I lye not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. BEATRICE Do not swear by it and eat it. BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest I love thee. BEATRICE Why then God forgive me. �BENEDICK What offence, sweet Beatrice? BEATRICE You have stay'd me in a happy hour; I was about to protest I lov'd you. BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. BENEDICK Come, bid me do any thing for thee. BEATRICE Kill Claudio. BENEDICK Ha! not for the wide world. BEATRICE You kill me to deny; farewel. BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. BEATRICE I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love in you; nay, I pray you let me go. BENEDICK Beatrice. BEATRICE In faith, I will go. BENEDICK We'll be friends first, [539] BEATRICE You dare earlier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy. BENEDICK �Is Claudio thine enemy? BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my kinswoman! O that I were a man! what, bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with publick accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated rancour-- O God that I were a man, I would eat his heart in the market-place. BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice. BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window? — a proper saying! BEATRICE Nay but Beatrice. BEATRICE Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone. BENEDICK But-BEATRICE Princes and Counts! surely a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man for his fake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! but manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turn'd 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 woman with grieving. BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice; by this hand I love thee. BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. BENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero? BEATRICE �Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. BENEDICK Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so leave you; by this hand, Claudio shall [Z z z] [540] render me dear account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your cousin, I must say she is dead, and so farewel. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. [Enter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the Town-Clerk and Sexton in Gowns.] TOWN-CLERK Is our whole dissembly appear'd? DOGBERRY O, a stool and cushion for the Sexton! SEXTON Which be the malefactors? VERGES Marry, that am I and my partner. DOGBERRY Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine. SEXTON But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master constable. TOWN-CLERK Yea marry, let them come before me; what is your name, friend? BORACHIO Borachio. TOWN-CLERK Pray write down, Borachio. Yours Sirrah? �CONRADE I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade. TOWN-CLERK Write down master gentleman Conrade; masters, do you serve God? masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly; how answer you for your selves? CONRADE Marry, Sir, we say we are none. TOWN-CLERK A marvellous witty fellow I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah, a word in your ear, Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves. BORACHIO Sir, I say to you, we are none. TOWN-CLERK Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a tale; have you writ down that they are none? SEXTON Master town-clerk, you go not the way to examine, you must call the watch that are their accusers. [541] TOWN-CLERK Yea marry, that's the earliest: way, let the watch come forth; masters, I charge you in the prince's name accuse these men. [Enter Watchmen.] 1 WATCH This man said, Sir, that Don John the prince's brother was a villain. TOWN-CLERK Write down, prince John a villain; why this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain. BORACHIO Master town-clerk. TOWN-CLERK �Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy look, I promise thee. SEXTON What heard you him say else? 2 WATCH Marry, that he had receiv'd a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully. TOWN-CLERK Flat burglary as ever was committed. DOGBERRY Yea by th' mass that it is. SEXTON What else, fellow? 1 WATCH And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. TOWN-CLERK O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for this. SEXTON What else? 2 WATCH This is all. SEXTON And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stoll'n away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master constable, let these men be bound and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their examination. DOGBERRY Come, let them be opinion'd. SEXTON Let them be in the hands of Coxcomb. [Exit.] �DOGBERRY God's my life, where's the Sexton? let him write down the Prince's officer Coxcomb: come, bind them, thou naughty varlet. [542] CONRADE Away, you are an ass, you are an ass. DOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not 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 prov'd upon thee by good witness; I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer; and which is more, an househoulder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to, and a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him; bring him away; O that I had been writ down an ass! [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE 1. [Before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio.] ANTONIO If you go on thus, you will kill your self, And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief, Against your self. LEONATO I pray thee cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve; give not me counsel, Nor let no comfort else delight mine ear, But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine. Bring me a father that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, And bid him speak of patience; [543] Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain: �As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape and form; If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And hallow, wag, cry hem, when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man; for brother, men Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ach with air, and agony with words. No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no counsel, My griefs cry louder than advertisement. ANTONIO Therein do men from children nothing differ. LEONATO I pray thee peace; I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ach patiently; However they have writ the stile of Gods, And made a pish at chance and sufferance. ANTONIO Yet bend not all the harm upon your self. Make those that do offend you suffer too. LEONATO There thou speak'st reason, nay I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is bely'd, [544] And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. SCENE II. [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.] ANTONIO �Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. PEDRO Good den, good den. CLAUDIO Good day to both of you. LEONATO Hear you, my lords? PEDRO We have some haste, Leonato. LEONATO Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord. Are you so hasty now? well, all is one. PEDRO Nay do not quarrel with us, good old man. ANTONIO If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lye low. CLAUDIO Who wrongs him? LEONATO Marry thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler thou. Nay never lay thy hand upon thy sword, I fear thee not. CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear; In faith my hand meant nothing to my sword. LEONATO Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me; I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As under privilege of age to brag What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old: know Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent child and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by, And with grey hairs and bruise of many days Do challenge thee to tryal of a man; I say, thou hast bely'd my innocent child, �[545] Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lyes bury'd with her ancestors, O in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany! CLAUDIO My villany? LEONATO Thine Claudio, thine I say. PEDRO You say not right, old man. LEONATO My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body if he dare; Despight his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth and bloom of lustyhood. CLAUDIO Away, I will not have to do with you. LEONATO Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kill'd my child; If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. ANTONIO He shall kill two of us, and men indeed; But that's no matter, let him kill one first; Win me and wear me, let him answer me; Come, follow me, boy, come, boy, follow me, Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. LEONATO Brother. ANTONIO Content your self; God knows I lov'd my neice. And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man indeed, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! LEONATO �Brother Anthony. ANTONIO Hold you content; what, man? I know them, yea And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple: Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mongring boys, [A a a a] [546] That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, Go antickly, and show an outward hideousness, And speak of half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies if they durst; And this is all. LEONATO But brother Anthony. ANTONIO Come, 'tis no matter, Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. PEDRO Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; But on my honour she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. LEONATO My lord, my lord PEDRO I will not hear you. LEONATO No! come brother away, I will be heard. ANTONIO And shall, or some of us will smart for it. [Exe. ambo.] SCENE III. [Enter Benedick.] PEDRO �See, fee, here comes the man we went to seek. CLAUDIO Now Signior, what news? BENEDICK Good day, my lord. PEDRO Welcome Signior; you are almost come to part almost a fray. CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth. PEDRO Leonato and his brother; what think'st thou? had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I came to seek you both. [547] CLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are high proof melancholly, and would fain have it beaten away: wilt thou use thy wit? BENEDICK It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it? PEDRO Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? CLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw to pleasure us. PEDRO As I am an honest man he looks pale: art thou sick or angry? CLAUDIO What! courage man: what tho' care kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. �BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if you charge it against me. I pray you chuse another subject. CLAUDIO Nay, then give him another staff, this last was broke cross. PEDRO By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed. CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear? CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge! BENEDICK You are a you dare, right, or lady, and you. villain; I jest not. I will make it good how with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me I will protest your cowardice. You have kill'd a sweet her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from CLAUDIO Well I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. PEDRO What, a feast? CLAUDIO I'faith I thank him, he hath bid me to a calves-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? [A a a a 2] [548] BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily. PEDRO I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other �day: I said thou hadst a fine wit; right, says she, a fine little one; no, said I, a great wit; just, said she, a great gross one; nay said I, a good wit; just, said she, it hurts no body; nay said I, the gentleman is wise; certain, said she, a wise gentleman; nay said I, he hath the tongues; that I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two tongues. Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular virtues, yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily, and said she car'd not. PEDRO Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly; the old man's daughter told us all. CLAUDIO All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden. PEDRO But when shall we set the salvage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head? CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the married man. BENEDICK Fare you well, boy, you know my mind, I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggards do their blades, which God be thank'd hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you; I must discontinue your company; your brother the bastard is fled from Messina; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my lord lack-beard there, he and I shall meet, and 'till then peace be with him. [Exit Benedick.] PEDRO He is in earnest. [549] CLAUDIO In most profound earnest, and I'll warrant you for the �love of Beatrice. PEDRO And hath challeng'd thee? CLAUDIO Most sincerely. PEDRO What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit. SCENE IV. [Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded.] CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape, but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. PEDRO But soft you, let me see, pluck up my heart and be sad, did he not say my brother was fled? DOGBERRY Come you, Sir, if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, if you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. PEDRO How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one! CLAUDIO Hearken after their offence, my lord. PEDRO Officers, what offence have these men done? DOGBERRY Marry, Sir, they have committed false report, moreover they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have bely'd a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves. PEDRO First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and to conclude, what you lay to their charge? �CLAUDIO Rightly reason'd, and in his own division; and by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. [550] PEDRO Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence? BORACHIO Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine answer; do you hear me, and let this Count kill me: I have deceiv'd even your very eyes; what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incens'd me to slander the lady Hero, how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should marry her; my villany they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my shame; the Lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation; and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. PEDRO Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? CLAUDIO I have drunk poison while he utter'd it. PEDRO But did my brother set thee on to this? BORACHIO Yea, paid me richly for the practice of it. PEDRO He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery, And fled he is upon this villany. CLAUDIO Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. DOGBERRY Come bring away the plaintiffs, by this time our fexton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the matter; and masters, �do not forget to specifie, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. VERGES Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. [551] SCENE V. [Enter Leonato.] LEONATO Which is the villain? let me see his eyes, That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him; which of these is he? BORACHIO If you would know your wronger, look on me. LEONATO Art thou, art thou the slave that with thy breath Hast killed mine innocent child? BORACHIO Yea, even I alone. LEONATO No, not so villain, thou bely'st thy self; Here stand a pair of honourable men, A third is fled that had a hand in it: I thank you princes for my daughter's death; Record it with your high and worthy deeds, 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. CLAUDIO I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speak: chuse your revenge your self, Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking. PEDRO By my soul nor I; And yet to satisfie this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he'll enjoyn me to. �LEONATO You cannot bid my daughter live again, That were impossible; but I pray you both Possess the People in Messina here How innocent she dy'd; and if your love [552] Can labour ought in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night: To-morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter Almost the copy of my child that's dead, And she alone is heir to both of us, Give her the right you should have given her cousin, And so dies my revenge. CLAUDIO O noble Sir! Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me: I do embrace your offer, and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. LEONATO To-morrow then I will expecet your coming, To-night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother. BORACHIO No by my soul she was not; Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me. But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her. DOGBERRY Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass; I beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment; and also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you examine him upon that point. [553] �LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. DOGBERRY Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. LEONATO There's for thy pains. DOGBERRY God save the foundation. LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner; and I thank thee. DOGBERRY I leave an errant knave with your worship, which I beseech your worship to correct your self, for the others. God keep your worship; I with your worship God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave and if a merry meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit neighbour. example of well: to depart; it. Come [Exeunt.] LEONATO Until to-morrow morning, Lords farewel. ANTONIO Farewel my Lords, we look for you to-morrow. PEDRO We will not fail. CLAUDIO To-night I'll mourn with Hero. LEONATO Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. [Leonato's House. Enter Benedick and Margaret.] �BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? [B b b b] [554] BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for in most comely truth thou deservest it. MARGARET To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs? BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. BENEDICK A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so I pray thee call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers. MARGARET Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own. BENEDICK If you use them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. [Exit Margaret.] BENEDICK And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of love that �fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why they were never so truly turn'd over and over, as my poor self in love; marry I cannot shew it in rhime; I have try'd, I can find out no rhime to lady but bady, an innocents rhime; for scorn, horn, a hard rhime; for school, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms. [555] SCENE VII. [Enter Beatrice.] Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee? BEATRICE Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O stay but 'till then. BEATRICE Then is spoken; fare you well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath past between you and Claudio. BENEDICK Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. BEATRICE Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. BENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of its right sense, so forcible is thy wit; but I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him or I will subscribe him a coward; and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? BEATRICE For them all together, which maintained so politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you �first suffer love for me? BENEDICK Suffer love! a good epithet; I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will. BEATRICE In spight of your heart, I think; alas poor heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates. BENEDICK Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. BEATRICE It appears not in this confession; there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. [B b b b 2] [556] BENEDICK An old, an old instance, time of good neighbours; own tomb ere he dies, he than the bells ring, and Beatrice, that liv'd in the if a man do not erect in this age his shall live no longer in monuments, the widow weeps. BEATRICE And how long is that, think you? BENEDICK Question? why an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to my self; so much for praising my self; who I my self will bear witness is praise-worthy; and now tell me how doth your cousin? BEATRICE Very ill. BENEDICK And how do you? BEATRICE Very ill too. [Enter Ursula.] �BENEDICK Serve God, love me and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. URSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd, the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently? BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, Signior? BENEDICK I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt.] [557] SCENE VIII. [A church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers.] CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato? ATTENDANTS It is, my lord. EPITAPH. Done to death by slanderous tongues, Was the Hero that here lyes: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life that dy'd with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. CLAUDIO Now musick sound, and sing your solemn hymn. SONG. �Pardon, Goddess of the night, Those that slew the virgin knight; For the which with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight assist our moan, Help us to sigh and groan. Heavily, heavily. [558] Graves yawn and yield your dead, 'Till death be uttered, Heavenly, heavenly. CLAUDIO Now unto thy bones good night; Yearly will I do this rite. PEDRO Good morrow masters, put your torches out, The wolves have prey'd; and look the gentle day Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. CLAUDIO Good morrow masters; each his several way. PEDRO Come let us hence, and put on other weeds, And then to Leonato's we will go. CLAUDIO And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds Than this, for whom we rendered up this woe. [Exeunt.] SCENE IX. [Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.] FRIAR Did I not tell you she was innocent? LEONATO So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her, �Upon the error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some fault for this; Although against her will as it appears, In the true course of all the question. [559] ANTONIO Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. BENEDICK And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. LEONATO Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by your selves, And when I send for you come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit me; you know your office brother, You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies.] ANTONIO Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. BENEDICK Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think. FRIAR To do what, Signior? BENEDICK To bind me or undo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior, Your neice regards me with an eye of favour. ANTONIO That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true. BENEDICK And I do with an eye of love requite her. LEONATO The fight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will? �BENEDICK Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical; But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd I'th'state of honourable marriage, In which, good Friar, I shall desire your help. LEONATO My heart is with your liking. FRIAR And my help. SCENE X. [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with Attendants.] PEDRO Good morrow to this fair assembly. [560] LEONATO Good morrow, Prince, good morrow Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? CLAUDIO I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. LEONATO Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready. PEDRO Good morrow, Benedick; why what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? CLAUDIO I think he thinks upon the savage bull: Tush, fear not man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. BENEDICK Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat, �Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. SCENE XI. [Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula.] CLAUDIO For this I owe you; here come other recknings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? LEONATO This same is she, and I do give you her. CLAUDIO Why then she's mine; sweet, let me see your face. LEONATO No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand Before this Friar, and swear to marry her. CLAUDIO Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband if you like of me. HERO And when I liv'd I was your other wife. [Unmasking.] And when you lov'd you were my other husband. [561] CLAUDIO Another Hero? HERO Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd, but I do live; And surely as I live I am a maid. PEDRO The former Hero! Hero that is dead! LEONATO She dy'd my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. FRIAR All this amazement can I qualifie. When after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death: Mean time let wonder seem familiar, �And to the chappel let us presently. BENEDICK Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? BEATRICE I answer to that name, what is your will? BENEDICK Do not you love me? BEATRICE Why, no; no more than reason. BENEDICK Why then your uncle and the prince, and Claudio have been deceiv'd, they swore you did. BEATRICE Do not you love me? BENEDICK Troth no, no more than reason. BEATRICE Why, then my cousin, Margaret and Ursula Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. BENEDICK They swore you were almost sick for me. BEATRICE They swore you were well-nigh dead for me. BENEDICK 'Tis no matter, then you do not love me? BEATRICE No truly, but in friendly recompence. LEONATO Come cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. CLAUDIO And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her, For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. �HERO And here's another, [C c c] [562] Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. BENEDICK A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity. BEATRICE I would not deny you, but by this good day I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life; for as I was told, you were in a consumption. LEONATO Peace, I will stop your mouth. PEDRO How dost thou, Benedick the married man? BENEDICK I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of witt-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost thou think I care for a satyr, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin. CLAUDIO I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of question thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. BENEDICK Come, come, we are friends; let's have a dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels. �LEONATO We'll have dancing afterwards. BENEDICK First, o' my word; therefore play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. [563] [Enter Messenger.] MESSENGER My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. BENEDICK Think not on him 'till to-morrow, I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up pipers. [Dance.] [Exeunt omnes.] � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Pope, 1725) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Alexander Pope Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található, Alexander Pope által szerkesztett szövegváltozat gondozott átirata Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksofshakespea01shak_4/page/476 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1725 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Alexander Pope (szekesztő) Cseh Julianna (digitális átirat gondozása) Vidra Bernadett (digitális átirat gondozása) Mányi Krisztián (digitális átirat gondozása) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv pdf Language A language of the resource Angol Type The nature or genre of the resource komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Digitális szöveg Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. The works of Shakespeare in six volumes, Collated and corrected by the formwer editions, by Mr. Pope, Vol. I, London: Printed for Jacob Tonson in the Strand, 1725. pp. 477-563. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Alexander Pope Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title The works of Shakespeare in six volumes Date 1725 First Page 477 Genre komédia Language angol Medium könyv Num Pages 88 Number of Volumes 1 Pages 477-563 Place London Publisher Jacob Tonson Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Title Much Ado About Nothing Volume 1 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/f43f96cfd58a7e0b1af1388f1819171e.tif 6935df6025409ebed0413f2ae37c24c2 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Papír Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Rowe, 1709) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Nicholas Rowe. Az 1709-es kiadás képfájlban) Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális képfájl. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat feljavított változata. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksmrwilliams02rowegoog Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1709 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Nicholas Rowe (szerkesztő) Almási Zsolt (képfájl) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv tif Language A language of the resource Angol Type The nature or genre of the resource Komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Könyv Képfájl Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. THE WORKS OF Mr. William Shakespear; IN SIX VOLUMES. ADORN'D with CUTS. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe, Efq; LONDON: Printed for Jacob Tonson, within Grays-Inn Gate, next Grays-Inn Lane. MDCCIX. VOLUME the FIRST. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Nicholas Rowe Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1709 First Page 320 Genre Komédia Language Angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 76 Number of Volumes 6 Pages 320-388 Place London Publisher Jacob Tonson Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Volume 1 Digitális kép komédia Könyvtörténet Rowe Shakespeare Tonson https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/c0563aef3571b2b81fadbd896e5cc8e5.pdf 0537b16f7e12f10339a180820b96dc45 PDF Text Text Much Ado About Nothing Szerkesztette: Samuel Johnson 173. ACT I. SCENE I. A Court before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, HERO and Beatrice, with a Messenger. LEONATO I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. MESSENGER He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him. LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? MESSENGER But few of any Sort, and none of Name. LEONATO A victory is twice itself, when the atchiever 174 brings home full numbers; I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, call'd Claudio. MESSENGER Much deserved on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better better'd expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. MESSENGER I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy �could not shew itself modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. LEONATO Did he break out into tears? MESSENGER In great measure. LEONATO A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than those that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping! BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from the wars or no? MESSENGER I know none of that name, Lady; there was none such in the army of any Sort. LEONATO What is he that you ask for, Need! 175 HERO My Cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. MESSENGER O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. BEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at the flight; and my Uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? but how many hath he kill'd? for, indeed, I promis'd to eat all of his killing. LEONATO Faith, Neice, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. MESSENGER He hath done good service. Lady, in these wars. �BEATRICE You had musty victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent stomach. MESSENGER And a good soldier too, Lady. BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady? but what is he to a lord? MESSENGER A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stufft with all honourable virtues. BEATRICE It is so, indeed: he is no less than a stufft man: but for the stuffing, — well, we are all mortal. LEONATO You must not. Sir, mistake my Niece; there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there's a skirmish of Wit between them. BEATRICE Alas, he gets nothing by That. In our last 176 conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd with one: So that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? he hath every month a new sworn brother. MESSENGER Is it possible? BEATRICE Very easily possible; 9 he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block. MESSENGER �I see, Lady, the gentleman is not in your books. BEATRICE No; an he were, I would burn my Study. 177 But, I pray you, who is his companion? is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil? MESSENGER He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. BEATRICE O lord, he will hang upon him like a disease; he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught the Benedick; it will cost him a thousand pounds ere he be cur'd. MESSENGER I will hold friends with you, Lady. BEATRICE Do, good friend. LEONATO You'll ne'er run mad, Neice. BEATRICE No, not 'till a hot January. MESSENGER Don Pedro is approach'd. SCENE II Enter Don Pedro Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and Don John. PEDRO Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. LEONATO �Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, forrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. PEDRO You embrace your charge too willingly: I think this is your daughter. LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so. 178 BENEDICK Were you in doubt, Sir, that you askt her? LEONATO Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child — PEDRO You have it full, Benedick; we may guess by this what you are, being a man: truly the lady fathers herself; be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father. BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, the would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as the is. BEATRICE I wonder, that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick; no body marks you. BENEDICK What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? BEATRICE Is it possible, Disdain should die, while the hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesie itself must convert to Disdain, if you come in her presence. BENEDICK Then is courtesie a turncoat; but it is certain, I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and �I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. BEATRICE A dear happiness to women; they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me. BENEDICK God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face. BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were. BENEDICK Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. BEATRICE A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. BENEDICK I would, my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer; but keep your way o'God's name, I have done. 179 BEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick; I know you of old. PEDRO This is the sum of all: Leonato,—Signior Claudio, and Signior Benedick,—my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all; I tell him, we shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartily prays, some occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear, he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. LEONATO If you swear, my Lord, you shall not be forsworn.— Let me bid you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the prince your brother; I owe �you all duty. JOHN I thank you; I am not of many words, but I thank you. LEONATO Please it your Grace lead on? PEDRO Your hand, Leonato; we will go together. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio. SCENE III. CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? BENEDICK I noted her not, but I look'd on her. CLAUDIO Is the not a modest young lady? BENEDICK Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? CLAUDIO No, I pr'ythee, speak in sober judgment. BENEDICK Why, i'faith, methinks, she is too low for an high praise, too brown for a fair praise; and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were the other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. CLAUDIO Thou think'st, I am in sport; I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her. N 2 180 �BENEDICK Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel? BENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the Song? CLAUDIO In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that I ever look'd on. BENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter; there's her Cousin, if she were not possest with such a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: but I hope, you have no intent to turn husband, have you? CLAUDIO I would scarce trust myself, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. BENEDICK Is't come to this, in faith? hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion; shall I never see a batchelor of threescore again? go to, i'faith, if thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays: look, Don Pedro is return'd to seek you. 181 SCENE IV. Re-enter Don Pedro and Don John. PEDRO What secret hath held you here, that you follow'd not to Leonato's house? BENEDICK I would, your Grace would constrain me to tell. �PEDRO I charge thee oh thy allegiance. BENEDICK You hear, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on my alliegiance, — mark you this, — on my allegiance. — He is in love. With whom? — now that is your Grace's part.— Mark how short his answer is — with Hero Leonato's short daughter. CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered. BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so. CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. PEDRO Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy. CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord. PEDRO By my troth, I speak my thought. CLAUDIO And, in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine. BENEDICK And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord I speak mine. CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel. PEDRO That she is worthy, I know. BENEDICK 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. N3 182 PEDRO Thou wast ever an obstinate heretick in the despight of beauty. CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will. BENEDICK 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 rechate 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 my self the Right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the which I may go the finer,) I will live a batchelor. PEDRO I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. BENEDICK 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 balladmaker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the Sign of blind Cupid. PEDRO Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. BENEDICK If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and call'd Adam. 183 PEDRO Well, as time shall try; in time the savage �bull doth bear the yoke. BENEDICK 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 signifie under my Sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd man. CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou would'st be horn-mad. PEDRO Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too then. 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. BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage, and so I commit you —— CLAUDIO To the tuition of God; From my house, if I had it, —— PEDRO The sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedick. BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your 184 discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards arc but slightly basted on neither: ere * you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I leave you. [Exit. �SCENE V. CLAUDIO My Liege, your Highness now may do me good. PEDRO My love is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. CLAUDIO Hath Leonato any son, my lord? PEDRO No child but HERO she's his only heir; Dost thou affect her, Claudio? CLAUDIO 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, 1 lik'd her ere I went to wars. 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? CLAUDIO How sweetly do you minister to love, That know love's grief by his complection! But left my liking might too sudden seem, 185 I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. PEDRO What need the bridge much broader than the flood? Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, �LEONATO How now, Brother, where is my Cousin your son? hath he provided this musick? ANTONIO He is very busy about it; but, brother, I can tell you news that you yet dream'd not of. LEONATO Are they good? ANTONIO As the event stamps them, but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in my orchard, were thus over-heard by a man of mine: The Prince discover'd to Claudio, that he lov'd my neice 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. LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this? ANTONIO A good sharp fellow; I will send for him, and question him yourself. 186 LEONATO No, no; we will hold it as a dreams 'till it appear itself. But I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for answer, if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of it. [Several cross the Stage here.] Cousin, you know what you have to do. — O, I cry you mercy, friend, go you with me and I will use your skill. Good cousin, have a care this busy time. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to an Apartment in Leonato's House, Enter Don John and Conrade. CONRADE What the good-jer, my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? �JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit. CONRADE You should hear reason. JOHN And when I have heard it, what Blessing bringeth it? CONRADE If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. JOHN I wonder, that, thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jets; 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. 187 CONRADE Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, 'till you may do it without controlement; 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 root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself; it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing villain; I am trusted with a muzzel, and infranchised with a clog, therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. �CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent? JOHN I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? what news, Borachio? Enter Borachio. BORACHIO I came yonder from a great supper; the 188 Prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? what is he for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietness? BORACHIO Marry, it is your brother's right hand. JOHN Who, the most exquisite Claudio? BORACHIO Even he. JOHN A proper Squire! and who, and who? which way looks he? BORACHIO Marry, on Hero the daughter and heir of Leonato. JOHN A very forward March chick! How come you to know this? BORACHIO Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio hand in hand in sad conference. I whipt 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 Clmdio, JOHN Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way; you are both sure, and will assist me. CONRADE To the death, my lord. JOHN Let us to the great supper; their Cheer is the greater, that I am subdu'd 'would the cook were of my mind! ———Shall we go prove what's to be done? BORACHIO We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. 189 ACT II. SCENE I. A Hall in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula. LEONATO Was not Count John here at Supper? ANTONIO I saw him not. BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after. HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition. BEATRICE He were an excellent man, that were made just in the mid-way 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 tatling. LEONATO �Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face —— BEATRICE With a good Leg, and a good foot, Uncle, and mony enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good will. LEONATO By my troth. Niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. ANTONIO In faith, she's too curst. BEATRICE 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. 190 LEONATO So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. BEATRICE 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 lye in woollen. LEONATO You may light upon a husband, that hath no beard. BEATRICE 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 six pence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell. �ANTONIO Well, Niece, I trust, you will be rul'd by your father. [To Hero. BEATRICE Yes, faith, it is my Cousin's duty to make curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases you; but yet for all that, Cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases me. LEONATO Well, Niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. BEATRICE Not 'till God make men of some other metal than earth; would it not grieve a woman to be over-master'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make account of her life to a clod of way-ward marle? no, uncle. I'll none; Adam's sons are my brethren, and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEONATO Daughter, remember, what I told you; if 191 the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your answer. BEATRICE The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; If the Prince be too important, tell him, there is measure in every thing, 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 legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into his grave. LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by day-light. �LEONATO The revellers are entring, brother; make good room. SCENE II. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others, in Masquerade. 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. 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 favour; for God desend, the lute should be like the case! PEDRO My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. 192 HERO Why, then your visor should be thatch'd. PEDRO Speak low, if you speak love. BALTHASAR Well; I would, you did like me. MARGARET So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities. �BALTHASAR Which is one? MARGARET I say my Prayers aloud. BALTHASAR I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen. MARGARET God match me with a good dancer! BALTHASAR Amen. MARGARET And God keep him out of my fight when the dance is done! Answer, Clerk. BALTHASAR No more words, the clerk is answer'd. 193 URSULA I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA I know you by the wagling of your head. ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him. URSULA You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA 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. BEATRICE Will you not tell me, who told you so? BENEDICK No you shall pardon me. BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me, who you are? BENEDICK Not now. BEATRICE 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. BENEDICK What's he? BEATRICE I am sure, you know him well enough. BENEDICK Not I, believe me. BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh? BENEDICK I pray you, what is he? BEATRICE 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 villany; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they 194 laugh at him, and beat him; I am sure, he is in the fleet; I would, he had boarded me. BENEDICK When 1 know the gentleman, I'll tell him �what you say. BEATRICE Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Musick within. BENEDICK In every good thing. BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio. 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. BORACHIO And that is Claudio; I know him by his Bearing. JOHN Are you Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO You know me well, I am he. JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in hislove, he is enamour'd on Hero ; I pray you dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it. CLAUDIO How know ye, he loves her? JOHN I heard him sweat his affection. �BORACHIO So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to night. JOHN Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt John and Borachio. CLAUDIO Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of CLAUDIO 'Tis certain so—the Prince wooes for himself. 195 Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love; Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongue's. Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewel then, Hero! Enter Benedick. BENEDICK Count Claudio? CLAUDIO Yea, the same. BENEDICK Come, will you go with me? CLAUDIO Whither? BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own business, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an Usurer's chain 6? or under your arm, like a Lieutenant's scarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. CLAUDIO I wish him Joy of her. �BENEDICK Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so they fell bullocks: but did you think, the Prince would have served you thus? CLAUDIO I pray you, leave me. BENEDICK Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the Post. CLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit. BENEDICK Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. — But, that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! the Prince's fool! — ha? it may be, I go under that Title, because I am merry— O2 196 yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong: I am not so reputed. It is the base (tho' bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may. SCENE IV. Enter Don Pedro. PEDRO Now, Signior, where's the Count? Did you see him BENEDICK Troth, my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the Will of this young lady, and I offer'd 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 whipt. �PEDRO To be whipt! what's his fault? BENEDICK The flat transgression of a School-boy; who, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it. PEDRO Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer. BENEDICK 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 bestow'd on you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his bird's nest. PEDRO I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. 197 BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. PEDRO The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you. BENEDICK O, she misus'd me past the indurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw; hudling jest upon jest, with such impassable conveyance upon me, that l stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me; she speaks Ponyards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the North-star; I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd ; she would have made Hercules have turn'd �Spit, yea and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God, some scholar 198 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. SCENE V. Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero. PEDRO Look, here she comes. BENEDICK Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot: fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard: do you any ambassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy; you have no employment for me? PEDRO None, but to desire your good company. BENEDICK O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. I cannot indure this Lady Tongue. PEDRO Come, Lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. BEATRICE Indeed, my Lord, he lent it me a while, 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. PEDRO You have put him down, Lady, you have �put him down. BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my Lord, left I should prove the mother of fools; I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. PEDRO Why, how now, Count, wherefore are you sad? CLAUDIO Not sad, my Lord. PEDRO How then? sick? 199 CLAUDIO Neither, my Lord. BEATRICE The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil, Count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion. PEDRO I'faith, Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained; name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match, and all grace say, Amen, to it. BEATRICE Speak, Count, 'tis your cue. —— CLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and doat upon the exchange. �BEATRICE Speak, Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither. PEDRO In faith, Lady, you have a merry heart. BEATRICE 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. CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin. BEATRICE Good Lord, for alliance! — thus goes every O4 200 one to the world but I, and I am fun-burn'd; I may sit in a corner, and cry heigh ho! for a husband. PEDRO Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. BEATRICE 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. PEDRO Will you have me, Lady? BEATRICE 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 bound to speak all mirth and no matter. PEDRO Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE �No, sure, my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a star danc'd, and under that I was born. — Cousins, God give you joy. LEONATO Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? BEATRICE I cry you mercy, Uncle: by your Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice. SCENE VI. PEDRO By my troth, a pleasant-spirited Lady. LEONATO There's little of the melancholy element in her, my Lord; she is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dream'd of an unhappiness, and wak'd herself with laughing. PEDRO She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. 201 LEONATO O, by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of suit. PEDRO She were an excellent wife for Benedick. LEONATO O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad. PEDRO Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? CLAUDIO To-morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches, 'till love have all its rites. LEONATO �Not 'till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night, and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. PEDRO Come,you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the Interim undertake one of Hercules's labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other; I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. LEONATO My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings. CLAUDIO And I, my Lord. PEDRO And you too, gentle Hero? HERO I will do any modest office, my Lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. PEDRO And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far I can praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approv'd valour, and confirm'd honesty. 202 I will teach you how to humour your Cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that in despight of his quick wit, and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be ours for we are the only Love-Gods: go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. Changes to another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Don John and Borachio. �JOHN It is so, the Count Claudia shall marry the Daughter of Leonato. BORACHIO Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me. I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? BORACHIO Not honestly, my Lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. JOHN Shew me briefly how. BORACHIO I think, I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waitinggentlewoman to Hero. JOHN I remember. BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber window. JOHN What life is in That, to be the death of this marriage? BORACHIO The poison of That lies in you to temper; go you to the Prince your Brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his honour in marrying the 203 renown'd Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated Stale, such a one as Hero. �JOHN What proof shall I make of That? BORACHIO Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero and kill Leonato; look you for any other issue? JOHN Only to despight them, I will endeavour any thing. BORACHIO Go then find me a meet hour, to draw Don 204 Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them, that you know, Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in a love of your Brother's honour, who hath made this match; and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you have discover'd thus. They will hardly believe this without trial. Offer them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended Wedding; for in the mean time I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice: be cunning in working this, and thy see is a thousand ducats. BORACHIO Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. JOHN I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. �Changes to Leonato's Orchard. Enter Benedick, a Boy. BENEDICK Boy. BOY Signior. BENEDICK In my chamber-window lies a book, bring it hither to me in the orchard. 205 BOY I am here already, Sir. BENEDICK I know that — but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] — I do much wonder, that one man. seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviour to love, will, after he hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love! and such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no musick with him but the drum and the fife ; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe; I have known, when he would have walk'd ten mile afoot, to see a good armour; and now will he lye ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turn'd orthographer, his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool: one woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wife, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But 'till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich he shall be, that's certain; wife, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur �Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdraws. SCENE IX. Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthazar. PEDRO Come, shall we hear this musick. CLAUDIO Yea, my good lord— how still the evening is, 206 As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! PEDRO See you where Benedick hath hid himself? CLAUDIO O very well, my lord the musick ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. PEDRO Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that Song again. BALTHASAR O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander musick any more than once. PEDRO It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection; I pray thee, sing; and let me woo no more. BALTHASAR Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes; Yet will he swear, he loves. PEDRO Nay, pray thee, come; Or if thou wilt hold longer argument. Do it in notes. BALTHASAR Note this before my notes, There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting. �PEDRO Why, there are very crotchets that he speaks, Note, notes, forsooth, and noting. BENEDICK Now, divine air; now is his foul ravish'd!— is it not strange, that sheeps guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? — well, a horn for my mony, when all's done. The SONG. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea; and one on shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blith and bonny; Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nony, nony. 207 Sing no more ditties, sing no mo Of dumps so dull and heavy; The frauds of men were ever so, Since summer was first leafy: Then sigh not so, &c. PEDRO By my troth, a good Song. BALTHASAR And an ill singer, my lord. PEDRO Ha, no; no, faith thou sing'st well enough for a shift. BENEDICK [aside.] If he had been a dog, that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him; and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. PEDRO Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee get us some excellent musick; for to mor- �row night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window. BALTHASAR The best I can, my lord. [Exit Balthazar. PEDRO Do so: farewel. Come hither, Leonato; what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO O, ay; —— stalk on, stalk on, the fowl fits, [aside to Pedro.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man. LEONATO No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. BENEDICK It's possible, fits the wind in that corner? Aside. LEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an inraged affection, it is path the infinite of thought. 208 PEDRO May be, she doth but counterfeit. CLAUDIO Faith, like enough. LEONATO O God! counterfeit there was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it. PEDRO Why, what effects of passion shews she? CLAUDIO Bait the hook well, this fish will bite. [Aside. LEONATO �What effects, my lord? she will fit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. CLAUDIO She did, indeed. PEDRO How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I would have thought, her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. LEONATO I would have sworn, it had, my lord; especially against Benedick. BENEDICK [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. CLAUDIO He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. [Aside. PEDRO Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? 209 LEONATO No, and swears she never will; that's her torment. CLAUDIO 'Tis true, indeed, so your daughter says: shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him? LEONATO This says she now, when she is beginning to write to him; for she'll be up twenty times a night, and there she will fit in her smock, 'till she have writ a sheet of paper — my daughter tells us all. CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. LEONATO �Oh, — when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet. CLAUDIO That — LEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; rail'd at herself, that she should be so immodest, to write to one that, she knew, would flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own Spirit, for, I should flout him if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should. CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; O sweet Benedick! God give me patience! LEONATO She doth, indeed, my daughter says so; and the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid, she will do desperate outrage to herself; it is very true. 210 PEDRO It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. CLAUDIO To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. PEDRO If he should, it were an Alms to hang him; she's an excellent sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous. CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise. PEDRO In every thing, but in loving Benedick. LEONATO O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in �so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. PEDRO I would, she I would have half myself. what he will had bestow'd this dotage on me; daft all other respects, and made her I pray you tell Benedick of it; and hear say. LEONATO Were it good, think you? CLAUDIO Hero thinks, surely she will die; for she says, she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustom'd crossness. PEDRO She doth well; if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible, he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. CLAUDIO He is a very proper man. PEDRO He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. CLAUDIO 'Fore God, and, in my mind, very wise. PEDRO He doth, indeed, shew some sparks that are like wit. LEONATO And I take him to be valiant. PEDRO As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either 211 he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a christian-like fear. �LEONATO If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. PEDRO And so will he do, for the man God, howsoever it seems not in jests he will make. Well, I am shall we go seek Benedick, and doth fear him, by some large sorry for your Niece: tell him of her love? CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. LEONATO Nay, that's impossible, she may wear her heart out first. PEDRO Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. LEONATO My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. CLAUDIO If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Aside. PEDRO Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the Scene that I would see, which will be meerly a Dumb Show; let us send her to call him to dinner. [Aside.] [Exeunt. SCENE X. Benedick advances from the Arbour. BENEDICK This can be no trick, the conference was sadly borne. — They have the truth of this from Hero; �they seem to pity the lady it seems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear, how I am censur'd , they aay, I will P2 212 bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.—— I did never think to marry ——I must not seem proud — happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness. And virtuous; —— 'tis so, I cannot reprove it. And wife — but for loving me —— by my troth, it is no addition to her wit—— nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her. —— I may chance to have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these paper-bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? no: the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a batchelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day, she's a fair lady; I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter Beatrice. BEATRICE Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. BEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message. BEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a �knife's point, and choak a daw withal— You have no stomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit. BENEDICK Ha! against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner: —— there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; —— that's as much as to say, any pains 213 that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her picture. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. Continues in the Orchard. Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. HERO Good Margaret, run thee into thee parlour. There shalt thou find my Cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio; Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleached Bower, Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the Sun, Forbid the Sun to enter; like to Favourites, Made proud by Princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her. To listen our Purpose; this is thy office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. MARGARET I'll make her come, i warrant, presently. [Exit. HERO Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down. Our Talk must only be of Benedick; When I do name him, let it be thy Part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My Talk to thee must be, how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice; of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, �P3 214 That only wounds by hear-say: now begin. Enter Beatrice, running towards the Arbour. For look, where Beatrice, like lapwing, runs Close by the ground to hear our conference. URSULA The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait; So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now Is couched in the woodbine-coverture; Fear you not my part of she dialogue. HERO Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false-sweet bait that we say for it. ——— No, truly, Ursula, she's too disdainful; I know, her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. URSULA But are you sure, That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? HERO So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. URSULA And did they bid you tell her of it. Madam? HERO They did intreat me to acquaint her of it; But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection. And never to let Beatrice know of it. URSULA Why did you so? doth not the Gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? HERO O God of love! I know, he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: �But nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 8 Mis-prizing what they look on; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak; she cannot love, 215 Nor take no shape nor project of affection. She is so self-indeared. URSULA Sure, I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, left she make sport at it. HERO Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, how wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd. But she would spell him backward; if fair-fac'd, She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; 9 If black, why Nature, drawing of an antick. Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill- headed; 'If low, an Aglet very vilely cut; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out. And never gives to truth and virtue That, Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. URSULA Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. HERO No; for to be so odd, and from all fashions, 216 As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? if I should speak. She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly; It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling. URSULA �Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say. HERO No, rather 1 will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my Cousin with! one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking, URSULA O, do not do your Cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment, Having so swift and excellent a wit, As she is priz'd to have, as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Benedick. HERO He is the only man in Italy. Always excepted my dear Claudio. URSULA I pray you, be not angry with me. Madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, Goes foremost in report through Italy. HERO Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. URSULA His Excellence did earn it, ere he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam? HERO Why, every day — to-morrow — Come, go in. I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. URSULA She's limb'd, I warrant you; we have caught her Madam. HERO If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupids kill with arrows, Some with traps. [Exeunt. 217 Beatrice, advancing. �BEATRICE What fire is in my ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn so much? Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee; Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; If thou dost love, thy kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say, thou dost deserve and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. SCENE II. Leonato's House. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato. PEDRO I Do but stay 'till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon. CLAUDIO I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. PEDRO Nay, That would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as 218 found as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been. LEONATO So say I; methinks, you are sadder. CLAUDIO I hope, he is in love. �PEDRO Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; if he be sad, he wants mony. BENEDICK I have the tooth-ach. PEDRO Draw it. BENEDICK Hang it. CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. PEDRO What? Sigh for the tooth-ach! LEONATO Which is but a humour, or a worm. BENEDICK Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. CLAUDIO Yet say I, he is in love. PEDRO There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutch man to day, a French man to morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, a German from the waste downward, all slops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is. CLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs; he brushes his hat o' mornings; what should that bode? PEDRO Hath any man seen him at the barber's? �CLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuft tennis balls. LEONATO Indeed, he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard. 219 PEDRO Nay, he rubs himself with civet; can you smell him out by that? CLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. PEDRO The greatest note of it is his melancholy. CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face? PEDRO Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him. CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string and now govern'd by stops. PEDRO Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude he is in love. CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him. PEDRO That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not. CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him. �PEDRO She shall be buried with her Face upwards. BENEDICK Yet this is no charm for the tooth ach. Old Signior, walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wife words to speak to you, which these hobbyhorses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. PEDRO For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. CLAUDIO 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this time play'd their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another, when they meet. 220 SCENE III. Enter Don John JOHN My Lord and Brother, God save you. PEDRO Good den, brother. JOHN If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. PEDRO In private? JOHN If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear; for, what I would speak of, concerns him. PEDRO What's the matter? JOHN Means your lordship to be marry'd to morrow. [To Claudio. PEDRO You know, he does. �JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I know. CLAUDIO If there be any impediment, I pray you, discover it. JOHN You may think, I love you not; pear hereafter; and aim better will manifest; for my brother, well, and in dearness of heart ensuing marriage; surely, Suit ill bestow'd! let that apat me by That I now I think, he holds you hath holp to effect your ill spent, and Labour PEDRO Why, what's the matter? JOHN I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal. CLAUDIO Who? Hero? JOHN Even she; Leonato's Hero your Hero every man's Hero. CLAUDIO Disloyal? JOHN The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not 'till further warrant! go but with me to night, you shall see her chamber-window enter'd, even the night be221 fore her wedding day; if you love her, then to-morrow wed her but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. CLAUDIO �May this be so? PEDRO I will not think it. JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know; if you will follow me, I will shew you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. CLAUDIO If I see any thing to night why I should not marry her to-morrow; in the Congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. PEDRO And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. JOHN I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are my witnesses. Bear it coldly but 'till night, and let the issue shew itself. PEDRO O day untowardly turned! CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting! JOHN O plague right well prevented! So you will say. when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to the Street. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch. DOGBERRY ARE you good men and true? VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. �DOGBERRY Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's Watch. VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. 222 DOGBERRY First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? 1 WATCH Hugh Oatcake, Sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read. DOGBERRY Come hither, neighbour Seacole: God hath blest you with a good name: and to be a well-favour'd man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. 2 WATCH Both which, master constable —— DOGBERRY You have: I knew, it would be your answer. Well, for your Favour, Sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is 8 no need of such vanity: you are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the Constable of the Watch. therefore bear you the lanthorn; this is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's name. 2 WATCH How if he will not stand? DOGBERRY Why, then take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. VERGES �If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's Subjects. DOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's Subjects: you shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the Watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endur'd. 2 WATCH We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch. DOGBERRY Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how Sleeping should offend; only have a care that your Bills be not stolen: 223 well, you are to call at all the ale houses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed. 2 WATCH How if they will not? DOGBERRY Why then let them alone 'till they are sober; if they make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not the men you took them for. 2 WATCH Well, Sir. DOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him by virtue of your office to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. 2 WATCH If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? DOGBERRY Truly, by your office you may; but, I think, they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peacable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your �company. VERGES You have been always call'd a merciful man, Partner. DOGBERRY Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. VERGES If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 2 WATCH How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? DOGBERRY Why, then depart in Peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats. VERGES 'Tis very true. DOGBERRY This is the end of the Charge: you, constable, are to present the Prince's own person; if you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him. 224 VERGES Nay, bi'rlady, that, I think, he cannot. DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the Statues, he may stay him; marry, not without the Prince be willing: for, indeed, the Watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. VERGES Bi'rlady, I think, it be so. DOGBERRY Ha, ha, ha! well, masters, good night; an �there be any matter of weight chances, call up me; keep your fellow's counsels and your own, and good night; come, neighbour. 2 WATCH Well, masters, we hear our charge; let us go sit hereupon the church-bench 'till two, and then all to bed. DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the Wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to night; adieu; be vigilant, I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. SCENE V. Enter Borachio and Conrade. BORACHIO What! Conrade —— WATCH. Peace, stir not. [Aside. BORACHIO Conrade, I say! CONRADE Here, man, I am at thy elbow. BORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itch'd, I thought there would a scab follow. CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that, and now forward with thy tale. BORACHIO Stand thee close then under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. WATCH [Aside.] Some Treason, matters; yet stand close. �225 BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. CONRADE Is it possible that any Villany should be so dear? BORACHIO Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible any villany should be so rich? for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. CONRADE I wonder at it. BORACHIO That shews, thou art unconfirm'd; thou knowest, that the fashion of a doublet or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. CONRADE Yes, it is apparel. BORACHIO I mean the fashion. CONRADE Yes, the fashion is the fashion. BORACHIO Tush, I may as well say, the fool's the fool; but see'st thou not, what a deformed thief this fashion is? WATCH I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief these seven years; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. BORACHIO Didst thou not hear some body? CONRADE No, 'twas the vane on the house. �BORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hotbloods between fourteen and five and thirty; sometimes, fashioning them like Pharao's soldiers in the reechy Painting; sometimes, like the God Bell's priests in the old church window; 3 sometimes, like the shaven Her- 226 cules in the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club. CONRADE All this I see, and see, that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man; but art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? BORACHIO Not so neither but know, that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's Gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night — I tell this tale vilely —— I should first tell thee, how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed, and possessed by my master Don John saw a far off in the orchard this amiable encounter. CONRADE And thought they, Margaret was Hero? BORACHIO Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possest them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which, did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore, he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the Temple, and there before the whole 227 Congregation shame her with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again without a husband. �1 WATCH We charge you in the Prince's name, stand. 2 WATCH Call up the right master constable; we have here recovered the moll dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the common-wealth. 1 WATCH And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock. CONRADE Masters, masters. 2 WATCH You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. CONRADE Masters. 1 WATCH Never speak; we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. BORACHIO We are like to prove a goodly Commodity, being taken up of these mens bills. CONRADE A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you. SCENE VI. Hero's Apartment in Leonato's House, Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula. HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. URSULA I will, lady. HERO �And bid her come hither. 228 URSULA Well. [Exit Ursula. MARGARET Troth, I think, your other Rebato were better. HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. MARGARET By my troth, it's not so good; and I warrant, your cousin will say so. HERO My cousin's i fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but this. MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a moil rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the Dutchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so. HERO O, that exceeds, they say. MARGARET By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours; cloth of gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves and skirts, round underborne with a blueish tinsel; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. HERO God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy! MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. HERO Fie upon thee, art not asham'd? �MARGARET Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I think, you would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a Husband? none, I think, if it be the right Husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes. 229 SCENE VII. Enter Beatrice. HERO Good morrow, coz. BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. HERO Why, how now? do you speak in the sick tune? BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. MARGARET Clap us into Light o' love; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. BEATRICE Yes, Light o' love with your heels, then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns. MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. BEATRICE 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill— hey ho! MARGARET �For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? BEATRICE 'For the letter that begins them all, H. MARGARET Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more failing by the star. BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? MARGARET Nothing I, but God send every one their heart's desire! HERO These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. Q3 230 BEATRICE I am stufft, cousin, I cannot smell. MARGARET A maid, and stufft! there's goodly catching of cold. BEATRICE O, God help me, God help me, how long have you profest apprehension? MARGARET Ever since you left it; doth not my wit become me rarely? BEATRICE It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap — By my troth, I am sick. MARGARET Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm. HERO �There thou prick'st her with a thistle. BEATRICE Benedictus? why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. MARGARET 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, bi'rlady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with 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 never marry and yet now, in despight of his heart, 2 he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted, I know not; but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do. 231 BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? MARGARET Not a false gallop. Enter Ursula. URSULA 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. SCENE VIII. Another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. LEONATO WHAT would you with me, honest neighbour? DOGBERRY �Marry, Sir, I would have some confidence with you, that decerns you nearly. LEONATO Brief, I pray you; for you see, 'tis a busy time with me. DOGBERRY Marry, this it is. Sir. VERGES Yes, in truth it is, Sir. LEONATO What is it, my good friends? DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter: an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, as honest as the skin between his brows. VERGES Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. Q4 232 DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges. LEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious. DOGBERRY It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ha? DOGBERRY Yea, and 'twere a thou land times more than 'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your worship �as of any man in the city; and tho' I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. VERGES And so am I. LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. VERGES Marry, Sir, our Watch to night, excepting your Worship's presence, hath ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. DOGBERRY 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, he's a good man 4 ; an two men ride an horse, one must ride behind — an honest foul, i'faith, Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God is to be worshipp'd; all men are not alike, alas, good neighbour! LEONATO Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. DOGBERRY Gifts, that God gives. LEONATO I must leave you. 233 DOGBERRY One word, Sir; our Watch have, indeed, comprehended two auspicious persons; and we would have them this morning examin'd before your Worship. LEONATO Take their examination yourself, and bring it me; I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. �LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. LEONATO I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Exeunt Leonato. DOGBERRY Go, good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men. VERGES And we must do it wisely. DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant; here's That [touching his forehead] shall drive some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the Jail. [Exeunt. 234 ACT IV. SCENE I. A Church. Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Friar. Claudio, Benedick, Hero and Beatrice. LEONATO Come, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. FRIAR You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady? CLAUDIO No. �LEONATO To be married to her, Friar. You come to marry her. FRIAR Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count. 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. CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? HERO None, my Lord. FRIAR Know you any, Count? LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. CLAUDIO O what men dare do! what men may do! what Men daily do! not knowing what they do! BENEDICK How now! Interjections? why, then some be of laughing, as, ha, ha, he! CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave, Will you with free and unconstrained soul 235 Give me this maid your daughter? LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me. �CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? PEDRO Nothing, unless you render her again. CLAUDIO Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness: 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 shew of truth 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: She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. LEONATO What do you mean, my Lord? CLAUDIO Not to be married, Not to knit my soul to an approved Wanton. LEONATO Dear my Lord, if you in your own approof Have vanquished the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity CLAUDIO I know what you would say. If I have known her, 236 You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large8; But, as a brother to his sister, showed Bashful sincerity, and comely love. HERO �And seemed I ever otherwise to you? CLAUDIO Out on thy Seeming! I will write against it9: You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud1 ere it be blown: But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pampered animals That rage in savage sensuality. HERO Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide? LEONATO Sweet Prince, why speak not you? PEDRO What should I speak? I stand dishonoured, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common Stale. LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream; JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. BENEDICK This looks not like a Nuptial. HERO True! O God! CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother? Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own; LEONATO All this is so; but what of this, my lord? CLAUDIO 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. 237 �LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. HERO O God defend me, how am I beset! What kind of catechizing call you this? CLAUDIO To make you answer truly to your name. HERO Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any just reproach? CLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero; Hero herself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talked with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. HERO I talked with no man at that hour, my Lord. PEDRO Why, then you are 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. Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window; Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain3, Confessed the vile encounters they have had, A thousand times in secret. JOHN Fie, fie, they are not to be named, my Lord. Not to be spoken of; There is not chastity enough in language. Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. CLAUDIO O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart? But fare thee well, most soul, most fair! farewel, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall Conjecture hang, �To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm; 238 And never shall it more be gracious. LEONATO Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? BEATRICE Why, how now, Cousin, wherefore sink you down? JOHN Come, let us go; these things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt D. Pedro, D, John and Claudio SCENE II. BENEDICK How doth the lady? BEATRICE Dead, I think; help, uncle. Hero! why, Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! LEONATO O fate! take not away thy heavy hand; Death is the fairest cover for her shame. That may be wished for. BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero? FRIAR. Have comfort, Lady. LEONATO Dost thou look up? FRIAR. Yea, wherefore should she not? LEONATO Wherefore? why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? could she here deny �The story that is printed in her blood5? Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I think, thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I, thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Myself would on the rearward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one? Chid I for That at frugal nature's frame? 239 I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not, with charitable hand, Took up a beggar's issue at my gates? Who smirched thus, and mired with infamy, I might have said, no part of it is mine; This shame derives itself from unknown loins. But mine, and mine I lov'd, 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 Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; 240 And salt too little, which may season give To her soul tainted flesh! BENEDICK Sir, Sir, be patient; For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, I know not what to say. BEATRICE O, on my soul, my cousin is bely'd. BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? BEATRICE No, truly, not; altho' until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. LEONATO Confirmed, confirmed! O, That is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron. Would the two Princes lie? and Claudio lie? �Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her soulness, Washed it with tears? hence from her, let her die. FRIAR Hear me a little, For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune. By noting of the lady. I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness bear 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, Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenour of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Under some biting error. LEONATO 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 That, which appears in proper nakedness? 241 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, Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, Prove you that any man with me conversed At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintained the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. FRIAR There is some strange misprision in the Princes. BENEDICK �Two of them have the very bent of honour, And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The Practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. LEONATO I know not: if they speak but truth of her, these hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, 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, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, R 242 Nor my bad life rest me so much of friends, 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 thoroughly. FRIAR Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the Princes left for dead1; Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead, indeed: Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family's old Monument Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. LEONATO What shall become of this? what will this do? 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 maintained, Upon the instant that she was accused, Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused, Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, �Why, then we reck the value; then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio: 243 When he shall hear she died upon his words, Th'idea of her Life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparelled in more precious habit; More moving, delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 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 Will fashion the event in better shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all Aim but this be levelled false, The supposition of the lady's death Will quench the wonder of her infamy. 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. BENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: 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. LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. FRIAR 'Tis well consented, presently away; For to strange sores, strangely they strain the cure. R2 244 Come, lady, die to live; this wedding day, �Perhaps, is but prolonged: have patience and endure. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Manent Benedick and Beatrice. BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. BENEDICK I will not desire that. BEATRICE You have no reason, I do it freely. BENEDICK Surely, I do believe, your fair cousin is wrong'd. BEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her! BENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship? BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. BENEDICK May a man do it? BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours. BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange? BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not; it were as possible for me to say, I lov'd nothing so well as you; but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I con245 �fess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. BEATRICE Do not swear by it, and eat it. BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest, I love thee. BEATRICE Why then, God forgive me. BENEDICK What offence, sweet Beatrice? BEATRICE You have stay'd me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I lov'd you. BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. BENEDICK Come, bid me do any thing for thee. BEATRICE Kill Claudio. BENEDICK Ha! not for the wide world. BEATRICE You kill me to deny; farewel. �BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. BEATRICE I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love in you; nay, I pray you, let me go. BENEDICK Beatrice, --BEATRICE In faith, I will go. BENEDICK We'll be friends first. BEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy. BENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy? BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain, that 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. BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice. R 3 246 BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window? - a proper saying! BENEDICK Nay, but Beatrice. BEATRICE Sweet Hero! She is wrong'd, she is slander'd, �she is undone. BENEDICK Beat ---BEATRICE Princes and Counts! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect, a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! but manhood is melted into curtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lye, and swears it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice; by this hand, I love thee. BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. BENEDICK Think you in your soul, the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero ? BEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. BENEDICK Enough, I am engag'd; I will challenge him, I will kiss your hand, and so leave you; by this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account as you hear of me, so think of me go comfort your cousin; I must say, she is dead, and so farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to a Prison. Enter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the Town Clerk and Sexton in Gowns. TOWN CLERK Is our whole dissembly appear'd? DOGBERRY O, a stool and a cushion for the �sexton! 247 SEXTON Which be the malefactors? VERGES Marry, that am I and my Partner. DOGBERRY Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine. SEXTON But which are the offenders that are to be examin'd? let them come before master constable. TOWN CLERK Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is your name, friend? BORACHIO Borachio. TOWN CLERK Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, Sirrah? CONRADE I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade. TOWN CLERK Write down, master gentleman Conrade; masters, do you serve God? CONRADE, BORACHIO Yea, Sir, we hope. TOWN CLERK 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 are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly; how answer you for yourselves? CONRADE Marry, Sir, we say, we are none. �TOWN CLERK A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah, a word in your ear. Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are both false knaves. BORACHIO Sir, I say to you, we are none. TOWN CLERK Well, stand aside; 'fore God, they are both in a tale; have you writ down, that they are none? SEXTON Master town clerk, you go not the way to R4 248 examine, you must call the watch that are their accusers. TOWN CLERK Yea, marry, that's the deftest way, let the Watch come forth; masters, I charge you in the Prince's name accuse these men. Enter Watchmen. 1 WATCH This man said, Sir, that Don John the Prince's brother was a villain. TOWN CLERK Write down, Prince John a villain; why this is flat perjury, to call a Prince's brother villain. BORACHIO Master town-clerk ------TOWN CLERK Pray thee, fellow, Peace; I do not like thy look, I promise thee. SEXTON What heard you him say else �2 WATCH Marry, that he had receiv'd a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully. TOWN CLERK Flat burglary, as ever was committed. DOGBERRY Yea, by th' mass, that it is. SEXTON What else, fellow? 1 WATCH And that Count Claudio did mean, upon 249 his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. TOWN CLERK O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for this. SEXTON What else? 2 WATCH This is all. SEXTON And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stoll'n away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, and in this very manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master Constable, let those men be bound and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their examination. Exit. DOGBERRY Come let them be opinion'd. SEXTON Let them be in hand. 250 �CONRADE Off, Coxcomb. DOGBERRY God's my life, where's the Sexton? let him write down the Prince's officer Coxcomb: come, bind them, thou naughty varlet. CONRADE Away! you are an ass, you are an ass -----DOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not 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 lull of piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness; I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer; and which is more, an housholder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the law; go to, and a rich fellow enough; go to, and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him; bring him away; O, that I had been writ down an ass! -----[Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. Before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio. ANTONIO IF you go on thus, you will kill yourself; And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself. LEONATO I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve; give not me counsel, Nor let no Comforter delight mine ear, 251 But such a one whose wrongs do suite with mine. Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine. And bid him speak of patience; �Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain: As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape and form. If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And, Sorrow wag! cry; hem, when he should groan; Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me. And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief 252 Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage; Fetter strong madness in a silken thread; Charm ach with air, and agony with words. No, no; 'tis all mens office to speak patience To those, that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no counsel; My griefs cry louder than advertisement. ANTONIO Therein do men from children nothing differ. LEONATO I pray thee, peace; I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ach patiently; However they have writ the style of Gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance. ANTONIO Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself: Make those, that do offend you, suffer too. LEONATO There thou speak'st reason; nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me, Hero is bely'd; And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince; And all of them, that thus dishonour her. SCENE II. Enter Bon Pedro, and Claudio. �ANTONIO Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. PEDRO Good den, good den. 253 CLAUDIO Good day to both of you. LEONATO Hear you, my lords? PEDRO We have some haste, Leonato. LEONATO Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord. Are you so hasty now? well, all is one. PEDRO Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. ANTONIO If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lye low. CLAUDIO Who wrongs him? LEONATO Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou! Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, I fear thee not. CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear; In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. LEONATO Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me; I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool; As, under privilege of age, to brag What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old: know, Claudio, to thy head, �Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent child and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by; And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days. Do challenge thee to tryal of a man; I say, thou hast bely'd mine innocent child. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lyes bury'd with her ancestors, O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany! CLAUDIO My villany? LEONATO Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. PEDRO You say not right, old man. LEONATO My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body, if he dare; Despight his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. 254 CLAUDIO Away, I will not have to do with you. LEONATO Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kill'd my child; If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. ANTONIO He shall kill two of us, and men indeed; But that's no matter, let him kill one first; Win me and wear me, let him answer me; Come, follow me, boy; come, boy, follow me; Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. LEONATO Brother, -----ANTONIO Content yourself; God knows, I lov'd my Niece; �And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man, indeed, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! LEONATO Brother Anthony ----ANTONIO Hold you content; what, man? I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple: Scambling, out facing, fashion mongring boys, 255 That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, Go antickly and show an outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; And this is all. LEONATO But, brother Anthony, ----ANTONIO Come, 'tis no matter: Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. PEDRO Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; But, on my Honour, she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. LEONATO My lord, my lord ----PEDRO I will not hear you. LEONATO No! come, brother, away, I will be heard. ANTONIO And shall, or some of us will smart for it. Ex. ambo. �SCENE III. Enter Benedick. PEDRO See, see, here comes the man we went to seek. CLAUDIO Now Signior, what news? BENEDICK Good day, my lord. 256 PEDRO Welcome, Signior; you are almost come to part almost a fray. CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth. PEDRO Leonato and his brother; what think'st thou? had we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young for them. BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I came to seek you both. CLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away: wilt thou use thy wit? BENEDICK It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it? PEDRO Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? CLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us. �PEDRO As I am an honest man, he looks' pale; art thou sick or angry? CLAUDIO What? courage, man: what tho' care kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if you charge it against me - I pray you, chuse another subject. CLAUDIO Nay then give him another staff; this last was broke cross. PEDRO By this light, he changes more and more: I think, he be angry, indeed. CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear? CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge! BENEDICK You are a villain; I jest not. I will make it 257 good how you dare, with what yon dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardise. You have kill'd a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. CLAUDIO Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. PEDRO What, a feast? CLAUDIO I'faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a �calves-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say, my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. PEDRO I'll tell thee, how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I said, thou hadst a fine wit; right, says she, a fine little one; no, said I, a great wit; just, said she, a great gross one; nay, said I, a good wit; just, said she, it hurts no body; nay, said I, the gentleman is wife; certain, said she, a wife gentleman; nay, said I, he hath the tongues that I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two tongues. Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily, and said, she car'd not. PEDRO Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly; the old man's daughter told us all. CLAUDIO All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden. S 258 PEDRO But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head. CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the married man? BENEDICK Fare you well, boy, you know my mind; I �will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thank'd, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you; I must discontinue your company; your brother, the bastard, is fled from Messina; you have among you kill'd a sweet and innocent lady. For my lord lack-beard there, he and I shall meet; and 'till then, peace be with him! Exit Benedick. PEDRO He is in earnest. CLAUDIO In most profound earnest, and, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. PEDRO And hath challeng'd thee? CLAUDIO Most sincerely. PEDRO What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit! SCENE IV. Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded. CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. PEDRO But, soft you, let me see, pluck up my heart and be sad; did he not say my brother was fled? DOGBERRY Come, you, Sir; if justice cannot tame you. 259 She shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. PEDRO �How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio, one? CLAUDIO Hearken after their offence, my lord. PEDRO Officers, what offence have these men done? DOGBERRY Marry, Sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders sixth and lastly, they have bely'd a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. PEDRO First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge? CLAUDIO Rightly reason'd, and in his own division; and by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. PEDRO Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence? BORACHIO Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this Count kill me: I have deceiv'd even your very eyes; what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incens'd me to slander the lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgrac'd her, when you should marry her; my villany they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my shame; the lady is dead upon mine S2 260 �and my master's false accusation and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. PEDRO Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? CLAUDIO I have drunk poison, while he utter'd it. PEDRO But did my brother set thee on to this? BORACHIO Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. PEDRO He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery; And fled he is upon this villany. CLAUDIO Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. DOGBERRY Come, bring away the plaintiffs; by this time, our Sexton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the matter; and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. VERGES Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. SCENE V. Enter Leonato and Sexton. LEONATO Which is the villain? let me see his eyes; That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him; which of these is he? BORACHIO If you would know your wronger, look on me. LEONATO Art thou, art thou the slave, that with thy �breath Hast kill'd mine innocent child? BORACHIO Yea, even I alone. LEONATO No, not so, villain; thou bely'st thyself; Here stand a pair of honourable men, A third is fled, that had a hand in it: I thank you, Princes, for my daughter's death; Record it with your high and worthy deeds; 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. CLAUDIO I know not how to pray your patience, 261 Yet I must speak: chuse your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not. But in mistaking. PEDRO By my soul, nor I; And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight, That he'll enjoin me to. LEONATO You cannot bid my daughter live again, That were impossible but, I pray you both, Possess the People in Messina here How innocent she dy'd; and if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, Hang her an Epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones: Sing it to-night; To-morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that's dead. And she alone is heir to both of us; Give her the Right you should have given her Cousin, And so dies my revenge. CLAUDIO O noble Sir! Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me: �I do embrace your offer: and dispose for henceforth of poor Claudio. LEONATO To-morrow then I will expect your Coming, To-night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother. BORACHIO No. by my soul she was not; Nor knew not What she did, when she spoke to me. But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her. DOGBERRY Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembred in his S3 262 punishment; and also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you, examine him upon that point. LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. DOGBERRY Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. LEONATO There's for thy pains. DOGBERRY God save the foundation? LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner; and I thank thee. �DOGBERRY I leave an errant knave with your Worship, which, I beseech your Worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your Worship; I wish your Worship well: God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. Come, neighbour. [Exeunt. LEONATO Until to-morrow morning, Lords, farewel. ANTONIO Farewel, my Lords; we look for you tomorrow. 263 PEDRO We will not fail. CLAUDIO To- night I'll mourn with Hero. LEONATO Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt severally. SCENE VI. Changes to Leonato's House. Enter Benedick, and Margaret. BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man �living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it. MARGARET To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs? BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. BENEDICK A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt 264 a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers. MARGARET Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. BENEDICK If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. [Exit Margaret. BENEDICK And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of love, that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, ----- I mean, in singing but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse; why, they were never so truly turn'd over and over, as my poor self, in love; marry, I cannot shew it in rhime; I have try'd; I can find out no rhime to lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for 'scorn, born, a hard rhime; for school, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; �no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms. SCENE. VII. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee? BEATRICE Yea, Signior, and depart when thou bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but 'till then. BEATRICE Then, is spoken; fare yau well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, 265 with knowing what hath past between you and Claudio. BENEDICK Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. BEATRICE Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and soul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. BENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of its right sense, so forcible is thy wit; but, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward; and I pray thee, now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? BEATRICE For them all together; which maintain'd so politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? BENEDICK Suffer love! a good epithet; I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. �BEATRICE In spight of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours; for I will never love that, which my friend hates. BENEDICK Thou and I are too wife to woo peaceably. BEATRICE It appears not in this confession; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself. BENEDICK An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd 5 in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps. BEATRICE And how long is that, think you? BENEDICK Question? - why, an hour in clamour, and 266 a quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the wife, if Don worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself; so much for praising myself; who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy; and now tell me, how doth your Cousin? BEATRICE Very ill. BENEDICK And how do you? BEATRICE Very ill too. BENEDICK Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. �Enter Ursula. URSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd; the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently? BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, Signior; BENEDICK I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy heart; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. Changes to a Church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with Tapers. CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato? ATTENDENT It is, my lord. 267 EPITAPH Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero, that here lies: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life, that dy'd with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. CLAUDIO Now musick sound, and sing your solemn hymn. SONG Pardon, Goddess of the night, �Those that slew thy virgin knight; for the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight assist our moan; Help us to sigh and groan Heavily, heavily; Graves, yawn and yield your dead, 'Till death be uttered, Heavily, heavily. CLAUDIO Now unto thy bones good night! Yearly will ! do this Rite. PEDRO Good morrow, masters, put your torches out; The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phaebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey: 268 Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. CLAUDIO Good morrow, masters; each his several way. PEDRO Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go. CLAUDIO And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's8, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt. SCENE IX. Changes to Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero. FRIAR Did I not tell you, she was innocent? LEONATO �So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her. Upon the error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some fault for this; although against her will, as it appears, In the true course of all the question. ANTONIO Well; I am glad, that all things sort so well. BENEDICK And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. LEONATO Well, Daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves. And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit me; you know your office, brother, 269 You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give yer to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. ANTONIO Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. BENEDICK Friar, I must in treat your pains, I think. FRIAR To do what, Signior? BENEDICK To bind me, or undo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior, Your niece regards me with me an eye of favour. LEONATO That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true. BENEDICK And I do with an eye of love requite her. LEONATO The sight whereof, I think, you had from me. �From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will? BENEDICK Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical; But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd I th' state of honourable marriage; In which, good Friar, I snail desire your help. LEONATO My heart is with your liking. FRIAR And my help. SCENE X. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants. PEDRO Good morrow to this fair assembly. LEONATO Good morrow. Prince; good morrow, Claudio; We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To day to marry with my brother's daughter? CLAUDIO I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. LEONATO Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready. [Exit Antonio. PEDRO Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? CLAUDIO I think, he thinks upon the savage bull: Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, 270 And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee; As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. �BENEDICK Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow; And got a calf, in that same noble feat, Much like to you; for you have just his bleat. SCENE XI. Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula, mask'd. CLAUDIO For this I owe you; here come other reck'nings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? ANTONIO This same is she, and I do give you her. CLAUDIO Why, then she's mine; Sweet, let me see your face. LEONATO No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand Before this Friar, and swear to marry her. CLAUDIO Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband, if you like of me. HERO And when I liv'd, I was your other wife. [Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. CLAUDIO Another Hero? HERO Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live; And, surely, as I live, I am a maid. PEDRO The former Hero! Hero, that is dead! �LEONATO She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. FRIAR All this amazement can I qualify. When, after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death: Mean time let wonder seem familiar. And to the chapel let us presently. 271 BENEDICK Soft and fair, Friar. Which is Beatrice? BEATRICE I answer to that name; what is your will? BENEDICK Do not you love me? BEATRICE Why, no, no more than reason. BENEDICK Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did. BEATRICE Do not you love me? BENEDICK Troth, no, no more than reason. BEATRICE Why, then my Cousin, Margaret and Ursula, Have been deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. BENEDICK They swore you were almost sick for me. BEATRICE They swore, you were well-nigh dead for me. BENEDICK 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me? BEATRICE �No, truly, but in friendly recompence. LEONATO Come, Cousin, I am sure, you love the gentleman. CLAUDIO And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. HERO And here's another. Writ in my Cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. BENEDICK A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. BEATRICE I would not deny you; but, by this good 272 day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life; for, as I was told, you were in a consumption. BENEDICK Peace, I will stop your mouth -----[Kissing her. PEDRO How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? BENEDICK I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in than �thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin. CLAUDIO I had well hoped, thou would'st have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. BENEDICK Come, come, we are friends; let's have a Dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our our own hearts, and our wives heels. LEONATO We'll have dancing afterwards. BENEDICK First, o'my word; therefore, play, musick. 273 Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. Enter Messenger. MESSENGER My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight. And brought with armed men back to Messina. BENEDICK Think not on him 'till to-morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers, [Dance. [Exeunt omnes. K � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Johnson, 1765) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Samuel Johnson. Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat gondozott átirata Johnson jegyzetei nélkül. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/playsofwilliamsh03shak_1 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1765 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Lewis Theobald (szerkesztő) Gyurka Noémi (digitális átirat) Farkas Orsolya (digitális átirat) Almási Zsolt (digitális szerkesztés) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv PDF Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource Komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Digitális szöveg Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. The plays of William Shakespeare : in eight volumes : with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators, ed. Samuel Johnson, London : Printed for J. and R. Tonson; H. Woodfall; J. Rivington; R. Baldwin; L. Hawes, Clark and Collins; T. Longman; W. Johnston; T. Caslon; C. Corbet; T. Lownds; and the Executors of B. Dodd, London (1765) Vol. III 171-273.o. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Samuel Johnson Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1765. First Page 171 Language angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 102 Number of Volumes 8 Pages 171-273. Place London Publisher J. and R. Tonson H. Woodfall J. Rivington R. Baldwin L. Hawes Clark and Collins T. Longman W. Johnston T. Caslon C. Corbet T. Lownds Executors of B. Dodd Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. URL https://archive.org/details/playsofwilliamsh03shak_1 Volume 3 Digitális betűhív átirat komédia Much Ado About Nothing Samuel Johnson William Shakespeare https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/2bfca0055ef8221213d6c065b7b2357b.pdf 3872b9eec4fd548f50768ffe2dc89c38 PDF Text Text Much Ado About Nothing Szerkesztette: Nicholas Rowe ACT I. SCENE I. Enter Leonato, Innogen, Hero and Beatrice, with A Messenger. Leonato. I Learn in this Letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon, comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three Leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many Gentlemen have you lost in this Action? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of Name. Leon. A Victory is twice itself, when the Atchiever brings home full number; I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much Honour on a young Florentine, call'd Claudio. Mess. Much deserv'd on his Part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro, he hath born himself beyond the Promise of his Age, doing in the Figure of a Lamb; the Feats of a Lion, he hath indeed better better'd Expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. Leon. He hath an Uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess. I have already delivered him Letters, and there appears much Joy in him, even so much, that joy could not shew it self modest enough, without a Badge of Bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into Tears? Mess. In great measure. �Y2 324 Leon. A kind overflow of Kindness; there are no Faces truer, than those that are so wash'd; how much better is it to weep at Joy, than to joy at Weeping? Beatrice. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the Wars, or no? Mess. I know none of that Name, Lady, there was none such in the Army of any sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, Neice? Hero. My Cousin means Signior Benedick, of Padua. Mess. O he is return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. Beat. He set up his Bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at the flight; and my Uncle's Fool reading the Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these Wars? But how many hath he kill'd? for indeed I promise to eat all of his killing. Leom. 'Faith, Neice, you tax Signior Benedick too much, but he'll meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good Service, Lady, in those Wars. Beat. You had musty Victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant Trencher-man, he hath an excellent Stomach. Mess. And a good Soldier too, Lady. Beat. �And a good Soldier to a Lady: But what is he to a Lord? Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a Man to a Man, stuft with all honourable Virtues. Beat. It is so indeed, he is no less than a stuft Man: but for the stuffing well; we are all Mortal. Leon. You must not, Sir, mistake my Neice; there is a kind of merry War betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there is a Skirmish of Wit between them. Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last Conflict four of his five Wits went halting off, and now is the whole Man governed with one: So that if he have Wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his Horse. For it is all the Wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable Creature. Who is his Companion now? He hath every Month a new sworn Brother. Mess. Is it possible? Beat. Very easily possible; he wears his Faith but as the fashion of his Hat, it ever changes with the next Block. 325 Mess. I see, Lady, the Gentleman is not in your Book. Beat. No, and he were, I would burn my Study. But I pray you who is his Companion? Is there no young Squarer now, that will make a Voyage with him to the Devil? Mess. He is most in the Company of the right noble Claudio. Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a Disease; he is sooner caught than the Pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught �the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand Pound e'er it be cur'd. Mess. I will hold Friends with you, Lady. Beat. Do good Friend. Leon. You'll ne'er run mad, Neice. Beat. No, not 'till a hot January. Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and Don John. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: The fashion of the World is to avoid Cost, and you encounter it. Leon. Never came Trouble to my House in the likeness of your Grace; for, Trouble being gone, Comfort should remain: But when you depart from me, Sorrow abides, and Happiness takes his Leave. Pedro. You embrace your Charge most willingly: I think this is your Daughter. Leon. Her Mother hath many times told me so. Bene. Were you in doubt, that you askt her? Leon. Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a Child. Pedro. You have it full Benedick, we may guess by this what you are, being a Man, truly the Lady /Fathers her self; be happy, Lady, for you are like an honourable Father. �Bene. If Signior Leonato be her Father, she would not have his Head on her Shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick, no Body marks you. Bene. What my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? Y3 326 Beat. Is it possible Disdain should die, while she hath such meet Food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesie it self must convert to Disdain, if you come in her Presence. Bene. Then is Courtesie a Turn-coat, but it is certain I am lov'd of all Ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my Heart that I had not an hard Heart, for truly I love none. Beat. A dear Happiness to Women, they would else have been troubled with a pernicious Sutor. I thank God and my cold Blood, I am of your Humour for that; I had rather hear my Dog bark at a Crow, than a Man swear he loves me. Bene. God keep your Ladiship still in that Mind, for some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht Face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a Face as yours were. Bene. Well you are a rare Parrat Teacher. Beat. A Bird of my Tongue, is better than a Beast of yours. �Bene. I would my Horse had the speed of your Tongue, and so good a Continuer; but keep your way a God's Name, I have done. Beat. You always end with a Jade's Trick, I know you of old. Pedro. This is the sum of all: Leonato, Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick; my dear Friend Leonato hath invited you all, I tell you we shall stay here at the least a Month and he heartily prays some Occupation may detain us longer; I dare swear he is no Hypocrite, but prays from his Heart. Leon. If you swear, my Lord, you shall not be forsworn; let me bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled to the Prince your Brother; I owe you all Duty. John. I thank you, I am not of many Words, but I thank you. Leon. Please it your Grace lead on? Pedro. Your Hand Leonato, we will go together. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio.] Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the Daughter of Signior Leonato. Bene. I noted her not, but I look'd on her. Claud. Is she not a modest young Lady? 327 Bene. Do you question me as an honest Man should do for my simple true Judgment? Or would you have me speak �after my Custom, as being a professed Tyrant to their Sex? Claud. No, I prithee speak in sober Judgement. Bene. Why i'faith methinks she's too low for an high Praise, too brown for a fair Praise, and too little for a great Praise; only this Commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. Claud. Thou thinkst I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her. Bene. Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? Claud. Can the World buy such a Jewel? Bene. Yea, and a Case to put it into; but speak you this with a sad Brow, or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare Carpenter? Come, in what Key shall a Man take you to go in the Song? Claud. In mine Eye, she is the sweetest Lady that ever I lookt on. Bene. I can see yet without Spectacles, and I see no such Matter: There's her Cousin, an she were not possest with a Fury, exceeds her as much in Beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: But I hope you have no intent to turn Husband, have you? Claud. I would scarce trust my self, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my Wife. Bene. Is't come to this? In Faith hath not the World one Man, but he will wear his Cap with Suspicion? Shall I never see a Batchelor of threescore again? Go to i'Faith, and thou wilt needs thrust thy Neck into a Yoke, wear the print of �it, and sigh away Sundays: Look, Don Pedro is return'd to seek you. Enter Don Pedro and Don John. Pedro. What Secret hath held you here, that you follow'd not to Leonato? Bene. I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. Pedro. I charge thee on thy Allegiance. Bene. You hear, Count Claudio, I cannot 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 Y4 328 whom? Now that is your Grace's part: mark how short his Answer is, Hero, Leonato's short Daughter. Claud. If this were so, so it were 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. Pedro. Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy. Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord. 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 speak mine. Claud. That I love her, I feel. 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. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate Heretick in the despight 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 Rechate 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 my self the right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a Batchelor. Pedro. I shall see thee e'er I die, look pale with Love. Bene. With Anger, with Sickness, or with Hunger, my Lord, not with Love: Prove that I lose more Blood with Love, than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine Eyes with a Ballet-maker's Pen, and hang me up at the Door of a Brothel house for the Sign of blind Cupid. 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 clapt on the Shoulder and called Adam. 329 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 vildly painted, and in such great Letters as they write Here is a good Horse to hire; let them signifie under my Sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd Man. Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be Horn mad. 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. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the Hours in the mean time, good Signior Benedict, 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. Claud. To the Tuition of God. From my House if I hid it. Pedro. The sixth of July. Your loving Friend, Benedick. Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your Discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the Guards are but slightly basted on neither: E'er 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. Pedro. My Love is thine to teach, teach it but how, 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? Pedro. No Child but Hero, she's his only Heir: Dost thou affect her, Claudio? 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 330 Come thronged soft and delicate Desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is, Saying I lik'd her e'er I went to Wars. 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; was't not to this end. That thou begin'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. Pedro. What need the Bridge much broader that the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity; Look what will serve, is fit; 'tis once, thou lovest. �And I will fit thee with the Remedy. I know we shall have revelling to Night, I will assume thy part in some Disguise, And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, And in her Bosom I unclasp my Heart, And take her hearing Prisoner with a force And strong encounter of my amorous Tale: Then after, to her Father will I break, And the Conclusion is, she shall be thine; In practise let us put it presently. [Exeunt.] Enter Leonato and Antonio. Leon. How now Brother, where is my Cousin your Son: Hath he provided this Musick? Ant. He is very busie about it; but Brother, I can tell you News that you yet dream'd not of. Leon. Are they good? Ant. As the Event stamps them, but they have a good pover; they show well outward: The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick pleached Alley in my Orchard, were thus over-heard by a Man of mine: The Prince discover'd to Clandio that he lov'd my Neice your Daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this Night in a Dance; and if he found her Accordant, 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 your self. 331 Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a Dream, 'till it appear it self: But I will acquaint my Daughter with all, that she may be the better prepared for answer, if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of it: Cousins, you know what you have to do. Oh I cry you mercy Friend, go you �with me and I will use your Skill, good Cousin have a Care this busie time. [Exeunt.] Conr. What the good Year my Lord, why are you thus out of Measure sad? John. There is no measure in the Occasion that breeds, therefore the Sadness is without limit. Conr. You should hear Reason. John. And when I have heard it, what Blessing bringeth it? Conr. If not a present Remedy, yet a patient Sufferance. John. I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a mortal Medicine to a mortifying Mischief: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have Cause, and smile at no Man's Jest, eat when I have Stomach, and wait for no Man's Leisure; sleep when I am drowsie, and tend on no Man's Business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no Man in his humour. Conr. 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 tane you newly into his Grace, where it is impossible you should take Root, but by the fair Weather that you make your self; it is needful that you frame the Season for your own Harvest. John. I had rather be a Canker in a Hedge, than a Rose in his Grace, and it better fits my Blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a Carriage to rob Love from any: In this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest Man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing Villain, I am trusted with a Muzzel, and infranchised with a Clog, therefore I have decreed not to sing in my Cage: If I had my Mouth, I would bite; if I had my Liberty, I would do my liking: In the mean time, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. �Conr. Can you make no use of your Discontent? 332 John. I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? what News, Borachio? Bora. I came yonder from a great Supper; the Prince, your Brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you Intelligence of an intended Marriage. 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. John. Who, the most exquisite Clandio? Bora. Even he. John. A proper Squire; and who, and who, which way looks he? Bora. Marry on Hero, the Daughter and Heir of Leonato. John. A very forward March-chick, how come you to this? Bora. Being entertained for a Perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty Room, comes me the Prince and Claudio, Hand in Hand in sad Conference: I whipt 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. John. Come, come, let us thither, this may prove Food �to my Displeasure, that young Start-up hath all the Glory of my Overthrow: If I can cross him any way, I bless my self every way; you are both sure, and will assist me? Conr. To the Death, my Lord. John. Let us to the great Supper, their Cheer is the greater that I subdu'd, would the Cook were of my Mind: Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your Lordship. [Exeunt.] A C T II. S C E N E I. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Innogen, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret and Ursula. Leon. Was not Count John here at Supper? Ant. I saw him not. Beat. How tartly that Gentleman looks; I never can see him, but I am Heart-burn'd an Hour after. 333 Hero. He is of a melancholy Disposition. Beat. He were an excellent Man that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedict; the one is too like an Image, and says nothing; and the other too like my Lady's eldest Son, evermore tatling. 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 Mony enough in his Purse, such a Man would win any Woman in the World, if he could get her good Will. Leon. By my troth, Neice, thou wilt never get thee a Husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy Tongue. Ant. In Faith she's 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 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 lye in Woollen. Leon. You may light upon 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 six Pence in earnest of the Bearherd, 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 his Horns on his Head, and say, get you to Heav'n, Beatrice, get you to Heav'n, here's no Place for you Maids; so deliver I up my Apes, and away to St. Peter; for the Heav'ns, he shews me where the Batchelors sit, and there live we as merry as the Day is long. �Ant. Well Neice, I trust you will be rul'd by your Father. [To Hero. Beat. Yes, Faith, it is my Cousin's Duty to make Curt334 sie, and say, as it please you; but yet for all that Cousin, let him be a handsome Fellow, or else make another Curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases me. Leon. Well, Neice, I hope to see you one Day fitted with a Husband. Beat. Not 'till God make Men of some other Mettal than Earth; wou'd it not grieve a Woman to be over-master'd with a Piece of valiant Dust? to make account of her Life to a Clod of wayward Marle? No, Uncle, I'll none; Adam's Sons are Brethren, and truly I hold it a Sin to match in my Kindred. Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you; if the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your Answer. Beat. The Fault will be in the Musick, Cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; if the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the Answer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch Jig, a Measure, and a Cinquepace; 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 Anchentry; and then comes Repentance, and with his bad Legs falls into the Cinquepace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into the Grave. Leon. Cousin you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good Eye, Uncle, I can see a Church by Day Light. Leon. �The Revellers are entring, Brother; make good room. [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade] 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. Pedro. With me in your Company. Hero. I may say so when I please. Pedro. And when will you please to say so? Hero. When I like your Favour; for God defend the Lute should be like the Case. Pedro. My Visor is Philemon's Roof, within the House is Love. 335 Hero. Why then your Visor should be thatch'd. Pedro. Speak low if you speak Love. 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. Balth. Amen. Marg. And God keep him out of my Sight when the Dance is done: Answer Clerk. Balth. No more Words, the Clerk is answer'd. Ursu. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio. Anth. At a Word, I am not. Ursu. I know you by the wagling of your Head. Anth. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Ursu. You could never do him so ill Will, unless you were the very Man: Here's his dry Hand up and down, you are he, you are he. Anth. At a Word, I am not. Ursu. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent Wit? Can Virtue hide it self? 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 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? Bene. I pray you what is he? 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 Condemnation is 336 not in his Wit, but in his Villany; for he both pleaseth Men, and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him; I am sure he is in this Fleet, I would he had boarded me. Bene. When I know the Gentleman, 1'11 tell him what you say. Beat. Do, do, he'll but break a Comparison or two on me, which peradventure (not mark'd, or not laugh'd at) strikes him into Melancholy, and then there's a Partridge Wing sav'd, for the Fool will eat no Supper that Night. We must follow the Leaders. �Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any Ill, I will leave them at the next Turning. [Exeunt.] [Musick for the Dance.] 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. Bora. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing. John. Are not you Signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well, I am he. John. Signior, you are very near my Brother in his Love, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his Birth; you may do die Part of an honest Man in it. Claud. How know you he loves her? John. I heard him swear his Affection. Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to Night. John. Come let us to the Banquet. [Exeunt John and Bora. Claud. Thus answer I in Name of Benedick, But hear this ill News with the Ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so, the Prince woos for himself. �Friendship is constant in all other Things, Save in the Office and Affairs of Love; Therefore all Hearts in Love use their own Tongues, Let every Eye negotiate for it self, And trust no Agent; for Beauty is a Witch, Against whose Charms, Faith melteth into Blood; This is an Accident of hourly Proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewel therefore, Hero. 337 [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 Drovier, so they fell Bullocks; but did you think the Prince would have served you thus? Claud. I pray you leave me. Bene. No, no! 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 Soul, now will he creep into Sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me; the Prince's Fool! ha? it may be I go under that Title, because I am merry; yea but so I'am apt to do my self wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base (though bitter) Disposition of Beatrice, that puts the World into her Person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may. [Enter Den Pedro.] Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count? did you see him? Bene. Troth my Lord, I have play'd the Part of Lady Fame, I found him here as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren; I told him, and I think, 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 bind him a Rod, as being worthy to be whipt. Pedro. To be whipt, what's his Fault? Bene. The flat Transgression of a School-Boy, who being over-joy'd with finding a Birds Nest, shews it his Companion, and he steals it. Z 338 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 stol'n 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 Quarrel to you, the Gentleman that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you. Bene. O she misus'd me past the Indurance of a Block; an Oak but with one green Leaf on it, would have answered her; my very Visor began to assume Life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been my self, that I was the Prince's Jester, and that I was duller than a great Thaw, hudling Jest upon Jest, with such impossible conveiance upon me, that I stood like a Man at a Mark, with a whole Army shooting at me; she speaks Poyniards, and every Word stabs me; if her Breath were as terrible as Terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the North Star; I would not marry her, though she were endow'd with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd, she would have made Hercules have turn'd Spit, yea, and have cleft his Club to make the Fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her the infernal Ate 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 follows her. [Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero.] Pedro. Look here she comes. Bene. Will your Grace command me any Service to the Worlds End? I will go on the slightest Errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a Tooth-Picker now from the furthest Inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prestor John's Foot; fetch you a Hair off the great Cham's Beard; do you any Em339 �bassage to the Pigmies, rather then hold three Words Conference with this Harpy; you have no Employment for me? Pedro. None, but to desire your good Company. Bene. O God, Sir, here's a Dish I love not, I cannot indure this Lady's Tongue. [Exit.] Pedro. Come Lady, come, you have lost the Heart of Signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed my Lord, he sent it me a while, 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. Pedro. You have put him down. Lady, you have put him down. Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prove the Mother of Fools: I have brought Count Claudio whom you sent me to seek. Pedro. Why, how now Count, wherefore are you sad? Claud. Not sad, my Lord. 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 a jealous Complexion. Pedro. �I'faith Lady, I think your Blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his Conceit is false. Here Claudio, I have wooed in thy Name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her Father, and his good Will obtained, name the Day of Marriage, and God give thee Joy. 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 Qu. Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herald of Joy; I were but little happy if I could say, how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give away my self for you, and doat upon the Exchange. Beat. Speak Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his Mouth with a Kiss, and let not him speak neither. Pedro. In faith Lady, you have a merry Heart. Beat. Yes my Lord, I thank it, poor Fool, it keeps Z2 340 on the windy side of Care; my Cousin tells him in his Ear that he is in my Heart. Claud. And so she doth, Cousin. Beat. Good Lord, for Alliance; thus goes every 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 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. 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. Pedro. Your Silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you: for out of question you were born in a merry Hour. Beat. No sure my Lord, my Mother cry'd; but then there was a Star danced, and under that I was born. Cousins, God give you Joy. Leon. Neice, will you look to those things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy Uncle, by you Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice] 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 when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my Daughter say, she hath often dream'd of Unhappiness, and wak'd her self with laughing. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a Husband. Leon. O, by no Means, she mocks all her Wooers out of suit. Pedro. �She were an excellent Wife for Benedick. Leon. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a Week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to Church? Claud. To Morrow, my Lord, Time goes on Crutches, 'till Love have all his Rites? 341 Leon. Not 'till Monday, my dear Son, which is hence a just seven Night, and a time too brief to, to have all things answer my Mind. Pedro. Come, you shake the Head at so long a breadthing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules's Labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a Mountain of Affection, the one with the other; I would fain have it a Match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such Assistance as I shall give you Direction. Leon. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten Nights Watchings. Claud. And I my Lord. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero. Hero. I will do any modest Office, my Lord, to help my Cousin to a good Husband. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest Husband that I know: Thus far can I praise him, he is of a noble Strain, of approved Valour, and confirmed Honesty. I will teach you how to humour your Cousin, that she shall fall in love �with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, and in despite of his quick Wit, and his queasie Stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice: If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall be ours, for we are the only Love-gods; go with me, and I will tell you my Drift. [Exeunt.] [Enter Don John and Borachio.] John. It is so, the Count Claudio shall marry the Daughter of Leonato. Bora. Yea, my Lord, but I can cross it. John. Any Bar, any Cross, any Impediment, will be medicinable to me, I am sick in Displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his Affection, ranges evenly with mine; how canst thou cross this Marriage? Bora. Not honestly my Lord, but so covertly, that no dishonesty shall appear in me. John. Shew me briefly how. Bora. I think I told your Lordship a Year since, how much I am in the Favour of Margaret, the Waiting-Gentlewoman to Hero. Z3 342 John. I remember. Bora. I can, at my unseasonable instant of the Night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's Chamber Window. John. What Life is in that, to be the Death of this Marriage? �Bora. The Poison of that lyes in you to temper; go you to the Prince your Brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his Honour in marrying the renown'd Claudio, whose Estimation do you mightily hold up, to a contaminated Stale, such a one as Hero. John. What proof shall I make of that? Bora. Proof enough, to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you for any other Issue? John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. Bora. Go then find me a meet Hour, to draw on Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them that you know Hero loves me; intend a kind of Zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in a love of your Brother's Honour who hath made this Match, and his Friends Reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of a Maid, that you have discover'd thus; they will hardly believe this without Trial: Offer them Instances which shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her Chamber Window, hear me call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio, and bring them to see this, the very Night before the intended Wedding, for in the mean time I will fashion the Matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such seeming Truths of Hero's Disloyalty, that Jealousie shall be call'd Assurance, and all the Preparation overthrown. John. Grow this to what adverse Issue it can, I will put it in Practice: Be cunning in the working this, and thy Fee is a thousand Ducats. Bora. Be thou constant in the Accusation, and my Cunning shall not shame me. John. I will presently go learn their Day of Marriage. [Exeunt.} �[Enter Benedick and a Boy.] Bene. Boy. Boy. Signior. 343 Bene. In my Chamber Window lyes a Book, bring it hither to me in the Orchard. Boy. I am here already, Sir. [Exit Boy.] Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence, and here again. I do much wonder, that one Man seeing how much another Man is a Fool, when he dedicates his Behaviours to Love, will after he hath laught at such shallow Follies in others, become the Argument of his own Scorn, by falling in love! and such a Man is Claudio. I have known when there was no Musick with him but the Drum and the Fife, and now had he rather hear the Taber and the Pipe: I have known when he would have walk'd ten Mile a Foot, to see a good Armor; and now will he lye ten Nights awake, carving the Fashion of a new Doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the Purpose, like an honest Man and a Soldier, and now is he turn'd Orthography, his Words are a very fantastical Banquet, just so many strange Dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these Eyes? I cannot tell, I think not. I will not be sworn, but Love may transform me to an Oister, but I'll take my Oath on it, 'till he have made an Oister of me, he shall never make me such a Fool: One Woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well: But 'till all Graces be in one Woman, one Woman shall not come in my Grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; Wise, or I'll none; Virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; Fair, or I'll never look on her; Mild, or come not near me; Noble, or not for an Angel; of good Discourse, an excellent Musician, and her Hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur Love, I will hide me in the Arbor. �[Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio and Balthasar.] Pedro. Come, shall we hear this Musick? Claud. Yea, my good Lord ; how still the Evening is. As hush'd on purpose to grace Harmony. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? Claud. O very well my Lord; the Musick ended. We'll fit the Kid-fox with a penny-worth. Pedro. Come Balthazar, we'll hear that Song again. Balth. O good my Lord, tax not so bad a Voice, To slander Musick any more than once. Z4 344 Pedro. It is the witness still of Excellency, To put a strange Face on his own Perfection; I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more. Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing, Since many a Wooer doth commence his Suit, To her he thinks not worthy, yet he woo's, Yet will he swear he loves. Pedro. Nay, pray thee come, Or if thou wilt hold longer Argument, Do it in Notes. Balth. Note this before my Notes, There's not a Note of mine that's worth the noting. Pedro. Why these are very Crotchets that he speaks, Note Notes forsooth, and nothing. �Bene. Now divine Air, now is his Soul ravish't, is it not strange that Sheeps Guts should hale Souls out of Mens Bodies? Well, a Horn for my Mony, when all's done. The Song. Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more, Men were Deceivers ever, One Foot in Sea, and one on Shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blith and bonny, Converting all your sounds of Woe Into hey nony, nony. Sing no more Ditties, Sing no more; Of Dumps so dull and heavy. The Fraud of Men were ever so, Since Summer first was leavy: Then sigh not so, etc. Pedro. By my Troth a good Song. Balth. And an ill Singer, my Lord. Pedro. Ha, no, no Faith, thou sing'st well enough for a shift. Bene. And he had been a Dog that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him, and I pray God his bad Voice bode no Mischief; I had as lieve have heard the Night-raven, come what Plague could have come after it. 345 Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear Balthazar? I pray thee get some excellent Musick; for to Morrow Night we would have it at the Lady Hero's Chamber Window. Balth. The best I can, my Lord. �[Exit Balthatzar.] Pedro. Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me of to Day, that your Neice Beatrice was in Love with Signior Benedick. Claud. O ay, stalk on, stalk on, the Fowl fits. I did never think that Lady would have loved any Man. Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward Behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. Bene. Is't possible, fits the Wind in that Corner? Leon. By my Troth, my Lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an inraged Affection, it is past the infinite of Thought. Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit. Claud. Faith like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of Passion came so near the life of Passion as she discovers it. Pedro. Why, what Effects of Passion shews she? Claud. Bait the Hook well, the Fish will bite. Leon. What Effects, my Lord? she will fit you, you heard my Daughter tell you how. Claud. She did indeed. Pedro. �How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would have thought her Spirit had been invincible against all Assaults of Affection. Leon. I would have sworn it had, my Lord, especially against Benedick. Bene. I should think this a Gull, but that the whitebearded Fellow speaks it; Knavery cannot sure hide himself in such Reverence. Claud. He hath tane th' Infection, hold it up. Pedro. Hath she made her Affection known to Benedick? Leon. No, and swears she never will, that's her torment. Claud. 'Tis true indeed, so your Daughter says: Shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with Scorn, write to him I love him? 346 Leon. This says she, now when she is beginning to write to him, she'll be up twenty times a Night, and there will she sit in her Smock, 'till she have writ a Sheet of Paper; my Daughter tells us all. Claud. Now you talk of a Sheet of Paper, I remember a pretty Jest your Daughter told us of. Leon. O when she had writ it, and reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the Sheet. Claud. That. Leon. O she tore the Letter into a thousand Halfpence, rail'd at her self, that she should be so immodest, to write �to one that she knew would flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own Spirits I should flout him if he writ to me, yea though I love him, I should. Claud. Then down upon her Knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her Heart, tears her Hair, prays, curses; O sweet Benedick, God give me patience. Leon. She doth indeed, my Daughter says so, and the Extasie hath so much overborn her, that my Daughter is sometime afraid she will do a desperate Out-rage to her self, it is very true. Pedro. It were good that Benedick, knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor Lady worse. Pedro. And he should, it were an Alms to hang him; she's an excellent sweet Lady, and out of all Suspicion she is virtuous. Claud. And she is exceeding wise. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my Lord, Wisdom and Blood combating in so tender a Body, we have ten Proofs to one, that Blood hath the Victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just Cause, being her Uncle, and her Guardian. Pedro. I would she had bestow'd this Dotage upon me; I would have daft all other Respects and made her half my self; I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? �Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die, for she says she will die, if he love her not, and she will die e'er she 347 make her Love known, and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one Breath of her accustom'd Crossness. Pedro. She doth well, if she should make Tender of her Love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it, for the Man, as you know all, hath a contemptible Spirit. Claud. He is a very proper Man. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward Happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and in my Mind very wise. Pedro. He doth indeed shew some Sparks that are like Wit. Leon. And I take him to be valiant. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of Quarrels you may see he is wise, for either he avoids them with great Discretion, or undertakes them with a Christianlike Fear. Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep Peace; if he break the Peace, he ought to enter into a Quarrel with fear and trembling. Pedro. And so will he do, for howsoever it seems not make; well, I am sorry Benedick, and tell him Claud. the Man doth fear God, in him, by some large Jests he will for your Niece, shall we go see of her Love? �Never tell him, my Lord, let her wait it out with good Counsel. Leon. Nay, that's impossible, she may wear her Heart out first. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your Daughter, let it cool the while; I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to shew how much he is unworthy to have so good a Lady. Leon. My Lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my Expectation. Pedro. 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 another's dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I would see which will be meerly a dumb shew ; let us send her to call him to Dinner. [Exeunt.] 348 Bene. This can be no Trick, the Conference was sadly born; they have the Truth of this from Hero, they seem to pity the Lady; it seems her Affections have the full Bent. Love me! why it must be requited: I' hear how I am censur'd; they say I will bear my self proudly, if I perceive the Love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any Sign of Affection— I did never think to marry — I must not seem proud — happy are they that hear their Detractions, and can put them to mending: They say the Lady is fair, 'tis a truth, I can bear them Witness; and virtuous, 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me— by my Troth it is no Addition to her Wit, nor no great Argument of her Folly; for I will be horribly in love with her,— I may chance to have some odd quirks and remains of Wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against Marriage; but doth not the Appetite alter? a Man loves the Meat in his Youth, that he cannot endure in his Age. Shall Quips and Sentences, �and these Paper-Bullets of the Brain, awe a Man from the Career of his Humour? No, the World must be peopled. When I said I would die a Bachelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd: Here comes Beatrice, by this Day she's a fair Lady, I do spy some Marks of Love in her. [Enter Beatrice.] Beat. Against my Will I am sent to bid you come in to Dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your Pains. Beat. I took no more Pains for those Thanks, than you take Pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. Bene. You take Pleasure then in the Message. Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a Knives Points and choak a Daw withal: you have no Stomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit.] Bene. Ha! Against my Will I am sent to bid you come in to Dinner; there's a double Meaning in that. I took no more Pains for those Thanks, than you took Pains to thank me; that's as much as to say, any Pains that I take for you is as easie as Thanks. If I do not take Pity of her I am a Villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her Picture. [Exit.] 349 ACT III. S C E N E I [Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.] Hero. Good Margaret run thee to the Parlour; There shalt thou find my Cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio, Whisper her Ear, and tell her I and Ursula �Walk in the Orchards and our whole Discourse Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us. And bid her steal into the pleached Bower, Where Honey-Suckles ripen'd by the Sun Forbid the Sun to enter; like Favourites Made proud by Princes, that advance their Pride Against that Power that bred it: There will she hid her, To listen to our Purpose; this is thy Office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. Marg. I'll make her come I warrant presently. [Exit.] Hero. Now Ursula when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this Alley up and down, Our Talk must only be of Benedick; When I do name him, let it be thy Part To praise him more than ever Man did merit. My Talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in Love with Beatrice; of this Matter Is little Cupid's crafty Arrow made, That only wounds by hear-say: Now begin. [Enter Beatrice.] For look where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs Close by the Ground to hear our Conference. Ursu. The pleasant'st angling is to see the Fish Cut with her golden Oars the silver Stream, And greedily devour the treacherous Bait; So angle we for Beatrice, who even now, Is couched in the Woodbine Overture; Fear you not my Part of the Dialogue. Hero. Then go we near her, that her Ear lose nothing Of the false sweet Bait that we lay for it. No truly Ursula, she is too disdainful, I know her Spirits are as coy and wild 350 As Haggerds of the Rock. Ursu. But are you sure �That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely? Hero. So lays the Prince, and my new trothed Lord. Ursu. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it, But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrastle with Affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Ursu. Why did you so? Doth not the Gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a Bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? Hero. O God of Love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a Man: But Nature never framed a Woman's Heart Of prouder Stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her Eye, Mis-prizing what they look on, and her Wit Values it self so highly, that to her All Matter else seems weak; she cannot love. Nor take no Shape nor Project of Affection, She is so self-indeared. Ursu. Sure I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his Love, lest she make Sport at it. Hero. Why you speak Truth, I never yet saw Man, How wise, now noble, young, how rarely featur'd. But she would spell him backward; if fair-fac'd, She would swear the Gentleman should be her Sister; If black, why Nature drawing of an Antick, Made a foul Blot; if tall, a Launce ill-headed; If low, an Agat very vildly cut; If speaking, why a Vane blown with all Winds; If silent, why a Block moved with none. So turns she every Man the wrong side out. And never gives to Truth and Virtue that Which Simpleness and Merit purchaseth. �Ursu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No, for to be so odd, and from all Fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? if I should speak, 351 She would mock me into an Air, O she would laugh me Out of my self, press me to Death with Wit. Therefore let Benedick, like covered Fire, Consume away in Sighs, waste inwardly; It were a bitter Death to die with Mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. Ursu. Yet tell her of it, hear what she will say. Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedickt And counsel him to fight against his Passion, And truly I'll devise some honest Slanders, To stain my Cousin with; one doth not know, How much an ill Word may impoison liking. Ursu. O do not do your Cousin such a Wrong. She cannot be so much without true Judgment, Having so sweet and excellent a Wit, As she is priz'd to have, as to refuse So rare a Gentleman as Signior Benedick. Hero. He is the only Man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. Ursu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madam, Speaking my Fancy; Signior Benedick, For Shape, for Bearing, Argument and Valour, Goes formost in Report through Italy. Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good Name. Ursu. �His Excellence did earn it e'er he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam? Hero. Why every Day, to Morrow; come go in, I'll shew thee some Attires, and have thy Counsel, Which is the best to furnish me to Morrow. Ursu. She's ta'en, I warrant you; We have caught her, Madam. Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps. Some Cupids kill with Arrows, some with Traps. [Exeunt.] Beat. What Fire is in my Ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn so much? Contempt farewel, and Maiden Pride adieu; No Glory lives behind the Back of such. And Benedick, love on, I will requite thee. Taming my wild Heart to thy loving Hand; If thou dost love, my Kindness shall incite thee To bind our Loves up in holy Band. 352 For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit.] [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.] Pedro. I do but stay 'till your Marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither my Lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a Soil in the new Gloss of your Marriage, as to shew a Child his new Coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his Company, for from the Crown of his Head to the Soul of his Foot he is all Mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's Bow-String, and the little Hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a Heart as sound as a Bell, �and the Tongue is the Clapper; for what his Heart thinks, his Tongue speaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So say I; methinks you are sadder. Claud. I hope he be in Love. Pedro. Hang him Truant, there's no true Drop of Blood in him, to be truly touched with Love; if he be sad, he wants Mony. Bene. I have the Tooth-ach. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it. Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. Pedro. What? sigh for the Tooth-ach. Leon. Which is but a Humour or a Worm. Bene. Well, every one cannot master a Grief, but he that has it. Claud. Yet say I, he is in Love. Pedro. There is no Appearance of Fancy in him, unless it be a Fancy that he hath to strange Disguises, as to be a Dutch Man to Day, a French Man to Morrow; unless he have a Fancy to this Foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no Fool for Fancy, as you would have it to appear he is. �Claud. If he be not in Love with some Woman, there is no believing old Signs; he brushes his Hat a Mornings: What should that bode? Pedro. Hath any Man seen him at the Barbers? 353 Claud. No, but the Barber's Man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his Cheek hath already stuft Tennis Balls. Leon. Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a Beard. Pedro. Nay he rubs himself with Civet, can you smell him out by that? Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet Youth's in Love. Pedro. The greatest Note of it is his Melancholy. Claud. And when was he wont to wash his Face? Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say of him. Claud. Nay, but his jesting Spirit, which is now crept into a Lute-string, and now govern'd by StopsPedro. Indeed that tells a heavy Tale for him; conclude he is in love. Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. �Pedro. That would I know too, I warrant one that knows him not. Claud. Yes, and his ill Conditions, and in despight of all dies for him. Pedro. She shall be bury'd with her Face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no Charm for the Tooth-ake. Old Signior walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these Hobby-horses must not hear. Pedro. For my Life to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Bears will not bite one another when they meet. [Enter Don John.] John. My Lord and Brother, God save you. Pedro. Good Den, Brother. John. If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. Pedro. In private? John. If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him. Pedro. What's the matter? John. Means your Lordship to be marry'd to Morrow? [to Claudio.] �Aa 354 Pedro. You know he does. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. Claud. If there be any Impediment, I pray you discover it. John. You may think I love you not, let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest; for my Brother, I think, he holds you well and in dearness of Heart hath holp to effect your ensuing Marriage; surely Sure ill spent, and Labour ill bestowed. Pedro. Why, what's the Matter? John. I came hither to tell you, and Circumstances shortned (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal. Claud. Who? Hero? John. Even she, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every Man's Hero. Claud. Disloyal? John. The Word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say she were worse; think you of a worse Title, and I will fit her to it: Wonder not 'till further Warrant; go but with me to Night, you shall see her Chamber Window enter'd, even the Night before her WeddingDay; if you love her, then to Morrow wed her; but it would better fit your Honour to change your Mind. Claud. �May this be so? Pedro. I will not think it. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know; if you will follow me, I will shew you enough; and when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly. Claud. If I see anything to Night why I should not marry her to Morrow, in the Congregation where I should wed, there will I shame her. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. John. I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are my Witnesses; bear it coldly but 'till Night, and let the Issue shew it self. Pedro. O Day untowardly turned! Claud. O Mischief strangely thwarting! John. O Plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have seen the Sequel. [Exeunt.] 355 [Enter Dogbery and Verges, with the Watch.] Dogb. Are you good Men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer Salvation, Body and Soul. Dogb. Nay, that were Punishment too good for them, if they should have any Allegiance in them, being chosen for �the Prince's Watch. Verg. Well, give them their charge, Neighbour Dogbery. Dogb. First, who think you the most disartless Man to be Constable? Watch I. Hugh Otecak, Sir, or, George Seacole; for they can write and read. Dogb. Come hither Neighbour Seacole, God hath blest you with a good Name; to be a well-favour'd Man, is the Gift of Fortune, but to write and read comes by Nature. Watch 2. Both which, Master Constable—— Dogb. You have: I knew it would be your Answer; well, for your Favour, Sir, why give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your Writing and Reading, let that appear when there is no need of such Vanity: You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit Man for the Constable of the Watch, therefore bear you the Lanthorn; this is your Charge: You shall comprehend all vagrom Men, you are to bid any Man stand in the Prince's Name. Watch 2. How if he will not stand? Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thank God you are rid of a Knave. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's Subjects. Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's Subjects: You shall also make no Noise in the Streets; For, for the Watch to babble and talk, is most tollerable, and not to be endur'd. �Watch. 2. We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch. Dogb. Why you speak like an ancient and most quiet Watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend; only have a care that your Bills be not stolen: Well, you are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are drunk get them to Bed. Aa2 356 Watch.2. How if they will not? Dogb. Why then let them alone 'till they are sober; if they make you not then the better Answer, you may say they are not the Men you took them for. Watch. 2. Well, Sir. Dogb. If you meet tue of your of Men, the more is for a Thief, you may suspect him, by verOffice, to be no true Man; and for such kind less you meddle or make with them, why the your Honesty. Watch. 2. If we know him to be a Thief, shall we not lay Hands on him? Dogb. Truly by your Office you may; but I think they that touch Pitch will be defil'd: The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a Thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of his Company. Verg. You have been always call'd a merciful Man, Partner. Dogb. Truly I would not hang a Dog for my Will, much more a Man who hath any Honesty in him. Verg. �If you hear a Child cry in the Night, you must call to the Nurse, and bid her still it. Watch. 2. How if the Nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Dogb. Why then depart in Peace, and let the Child wake her with crying: For the Ewe that will not hear her Lamb when it Baes, will never answer a Calf when it Bleats. Verg. 'Tis very true. Dogb. This is the end of the Charge: You Constable are to present the Prince's own Person, if you meet the Prince in the Night you may stay him. Verg. Nay, Birlady, that I think I cannot. Dogb. Five Shillings to one on't with any Man that knows the Statutes, he may stay him, marry not without the Prince be willing: For indeed the Watch ought to offend no Man; and it is an Offence to stay a Man against his Will. Verg. Birlady, I think it be so. Dogb. Ha, ha, ha, well Masters good Night, and there be any Matter of weight chances, call up me, keep your Fellow's Counsel, and your own, and good Night; come Neighbour. 357 Watch 2. Well Masters, we hear our Charge, let us go sit here upon the Church Bench 'till two, and then all to Bed. Dogb. One Word more, honest Neighbours. I pray you watch about Signior Leonato's Door, for the Wedding be- �ing there to Morrow, there is a great coil to Night; adieu; be vigilant I beseech you. [Exeunt.] [Enter Borachio and Conrade.] Bora. What, Conrade. Watch. Peace, stir not. [Aside.] Bora. Conrade I say. Conr. Here Man, I am at thy Elbow. Bora. Mass and my Elbow itch'd I thought there would a Scab follow. Conr. I will owe thee an Answer for that, and now forward thy Tale. Bora. Stand thee close then under this Pent-House, for it drizles Rain, and I will, like a true Drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch. Some Treason Masters, yet stand close. Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand Ducats. Conr. Is it possible that any Villany should be so dear? Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any Villany should be so rich? For when rich Villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what Price they will. Conr. I wonder at it. Bora. �That shews thou art unconfirm'd, thou knowest that the Fashion of a Doublet, or a Hat, or a Cloak, is nothing to a Man. Conr. Yes, it is Apparel. Bora. I mean the Fashion. Conr. Yes the Fashion is the Fashion. Bora. Tush, I may as well say the Fool's the Fool, but seest thou not what a deformed Thief this Fashion is? Watch. I know that Deformed, a has been a vile Thief this seven Years; a goes up and down like a Gentleman: I remember his Name. Bora. Did'st thou not hear some Body? Conr. No, 'twas the Vane on the House. Aa3 358 Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed Thief this Fashion is, how giddy he turns about all the Hot-bloods, between fourteen and five and thirty, sometimes fashioning them like Pharo's Soldiers in the rechy Paintings, sometimes like god Bell's Priests in the old Church-window, sometimes like thee shaven Hercules in the smirch'd worm-eaten Tapestry, where his Cod-piece seems as massie as his Club. Conr. All this I see, and see that the Fashion wears out more Apparel than the Man; but art not thou thy self giddy with the Fashion, that thou hast shifted out of thy Tale into telling me of the Fashion? Bora. Not so neither, but know that I have to Night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's Gentlewoman, by the �Name of Hero; she leans me out at her Mistress's Chamber Window, bids me a thousand times good night — I tell this Tale vildly —I should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my Master, planted and plac'd, and possessed by my Master Don John, saw afar off in the Orchard this amiable Encounter. Conr. And thought thy Margaret was Hero? Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the Devil my Master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his Oaths which first possest them, partly by the dark Night which did deceive them, but chiefly by my Villany, which did confirm any Slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged, swore he would meet her as he was appointed next Morning at the Temple, and there, before the whole Congregation shame her with what he saw o'er Night, and send her home again without a Husband. Watch I. We charge you in the Prince's Name stand. Watch 2. Call up the right Master Constable, we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of Lechery that ever was known in a Common-wealth. Watch I. And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, he wears a Lock. Conr. Masters, Masters. Watch 2. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Conr. Masters, never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. 359 Bora. We are like to prove a goodly Commodity, being taken up of these Mens Bills. �Conr. A Commodity in question I warrant you, come we'll obey you. [Exeunt.] [Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.] Hero. Good Ursula wake my Cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. Ursu. I will, Lady. Hero. And bid her come hither. Ursu. Well. Marg. Troth, I think your other Rebato were better. Hero. No pray thee good Meg, I'll wear this. Marg. By my Troth's not so good, and I warrant your Cousin will say so. Hero. My Cousin's a Fool, and thou art another, I'll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new Tire within excellently, if the Hair were a Thought browner; and your Gown's a most rare Fashion i'faith, I saw the Dutchess of Milan's Gown, that they praise so. Hero. O that exceeds, they say. Marg. By my Troth's but a Night-Gown in respect of yours; Cloth a Gold and Cuts, and lac'd with Silver, set with Pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves and Skirts, round, underborn with a blueish Tinsel; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent Fashion, yours is worth ten on't. �Hero. God give me Joy to wear it, for my Heart is exceeding heavy. Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a Man. Hero. Fie upon thee, art not asham'd? Marg. Of what, Lady? of speaking honourably? Is not Marriage honourable in a Beggar? Is not your Lord honourable without Marriage? I think you would have me say, saving your Reverence a Husband: And bad thinking do not wrest true speaking. I'll offend no Body, is there any harm in the heavier for a Husband? None I think, and it be the right Husband, and the right Wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes. 360 [Enter Beatrice.] Hero. Good Morrow, Coz. Beat. Good Morrow, sweet Hero. Hero. Why how now? do you speak in the sick Tune? Beat. I am out of all other Tune methinks. Marg. Clap's into Light a Love (that goes without a Burden,) do you sing it, and I'11 dance it. Beat. Yes light a love with your Heels, then if your Husband have Stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no Barns. Marg. O illegitimate Construction! I scorn that with �my Heels. Beat. 'Tis almost five a Clock, Cousin; 'tis time you were ready: By my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho! Marg. For a Hawk, a Horse, or a Husband? Beat. For the Letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, and you be not turn'd Turk there's no more failing by the Star. Beat. What means the Fool, trow? Marg. Nothing I, but God send every one their Heart's Desire. Hero. These Gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent Perfume. Beat. I am stuft, Cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A Maid and stuft! there's a goodly catching of Cold. Beat. O God help me, God help me, how long have you profest Apprehension? Marg. Ever since you left it; doth not my Wit become me rarely. Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear in your Cap. By my troth I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your Heart, it is the only thing for a Qualm. �Hero. There thou prick'st her with a Thistle. Beat. Benedictus? why Benedictus? You have some Moral in this Benedictus. Marg. Moral? no by my troths I have no moral meaning. I meant plain Holy-Thistle; you may think perchance that I think you are in Love, nay birlady I am not such a fool to think what I list, nor I list not to think what I can, 361 nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my Heart 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 never marry, and yet now in despight of his Heart he eats his Meat without grudging, and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your Eyes as other Women do. Beat. What pace is this thy Tongue keeps? Marg. Not a false Gallop. [Enter Ursula.] Ursu. 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.] [Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.] Leon. What would you with me, honest Neighbour? Dogb. Marry Sir I would have some Confidence with �you, that decerns you nearly. Leon. Brief I pray you, for you see 'tis a busie time with me. Dogb. Marry this it is, Sir. Verg. Yes in truth it is, Sir. Leon. What is it, my good Friends? Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter, an old Man, Sir, and his Wits are not so blunt, as, God 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. Dogb. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, Neighbour Verges. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Dogb. It pleases your Worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's Officers; but truly for mine own part, if I were 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 — 362 Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I hear as good Exclamation on your Worship as of any Man in the City, and tho' 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 Worship's Presence, have tane a couple of as arrant Knaves, as any in Messina. Dogb. 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, God's a good Man, and two Men rides an 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 worshipt, all Men are not alike, alas good Neighbour. Leon. Indeed Neighbour he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts that God gives. Leon. I must leave you. Dogb. One word, Sir, our Watch have indeed comprehended two aspicious Persons, and we would have them this Morning examined before your Worship. Leon. Take their Examination your self, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. Dogb. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drink some Wine e'er you go: Fare you well. [Enter a Messenger.] Mess. My Lord, they stay for you to give your Daughter to her Husband. �Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Ex. Leonato.] Dogb. Go good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoals, bid him bring his Pen and Inkhorn to the Goal; we are now to examine those Men. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dogb. We will spare for no Wit I warrant you; here's that shall drive some of them to a non-come, only get the learn'd Writer to set down our Excommunication, and meet me at the Goal. [Exeunt.] 363 A C T IV, S C E N E I. [Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedick, Hero and Beatrice.]] Leon. Come Frier Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of Marriage, and you shall recount their particular Duties afterwards. Frier. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady. Claud. No. Leon. To be marry'd to her, Frier, you come to marry her. Frier. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to the Count. Hero. I do. Frier. If either of you know any inward Impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your �Souls to utter it. Claud. Know you any, Hero? 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 men daily do! Bene. How now! Interjections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he. Claud. Stand thee by, Frier: Father by your Leave, Will you with free and unconstrained Soul Give me this Maid your Daughter? 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? Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble Thankfulness: 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 shew of Truth Can cunning Sin cover it self withal! 364 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 Shews? But she is none: She knows the Heat of a luxurious Bed; Her Blush is Guiltiness, not Modesty. Leon. What do you mean, my Lord ? Claud. Not to be marry'd, Not knit my Soul to an approved Wanton. Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own Proof 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, You will say, she did embrace me as a Husband, And so extenuate the forehand Sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with Word too large. But as a Brother to his Sister, shew'd Bashful Sincerity, and comely Love, Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thee seeming, I will write against it, You seem to me as Dian in her Orb, As chaste as is the Bud e'er it be blown: But you are more intemperate in your Blood Than Venus, or those pamper'd Animals That rage in savage Sensuality. Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide? Leon. Sweet Prince, why speak not you? Pedro. What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear Friend to a common Stale. Leon. �Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This looks not like a Nuptial. Hero. True! O God! Claud. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother? Is this Face Hero's? Are our Eyes our own? Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my Lord? Clau. 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. 365 Leon. I charge thee doo so, as thou art my Child. Hero. O God defend me, how am I beset! What kind of catechizing call you this? Leon. To make you answer truly to your Name. Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that Name With any just Reproach? Claud. Marry that can Hero, Hero her self can blot out Hero's Virtue. What Man was he talkt with you yesternight. Out at your Window betwixt twelve and one? Now if you are a Maid, answer to this. Hero. I talk'd with no Man at that Hour, my Lord. �Pedro. Why then you are no Maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear; upon mine Honour, My self, my Brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that Hour last Night, Talk with a Ruffian at her Chamber window, Who hath indeed, most like a liberal Villain, Confess'd the vile Encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, Not to be spoken of. There is not Chastity enough in Language, Without Offence, to utter them: Thus, pretty Lady I am sorry for thy much Misgovernment. Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward Graces had been plac'd About the Thoughts and Counsels of thy Heart? But fare thee well, most foul, most fair, farewel Thou pure Impiety, and impious Purity; For thee I'll lock up all the Gates of Love, And on my Eyelids shall Conjecture hang, To turn all Beauty into Thoughts of Harm, And never shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no Man's Dagger here a Point for me? Beat. Why how now Cousin, wherefore sink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light Smother her Spirits up. [Exe. D. Pedro, D. John and Claud.] Bene. How doth the Lady? Beat. Dead I think: Help, Uncle. Hero! why Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Frier! 366 Leon. O Fate! take not away thy heavy Hand, Death is the fairest Cover for her Shame �That may be wish'd for. Beat. How now, Cousin Hero? Frier. Have Comfort, Lady. Leon. Dost thou look up? Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not? 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, Thought I thy Spirits were stronger than thy Shames, My self would on the Rereward of Reproaches Strike at thy Life. Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal Nature's frame? I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my Eyes? Why had not I, with charitable Hand, Took up a Beggar's Issue at my Gates; Who smeered thus, and mir'd with Infamy, I might have said, no part of it is mine. This Shame derives it self from unknown Loins? But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much That I my self was to my self not mine. Valuing of her; why she, O she is fall'n 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 To her foul tainted Flesh. Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient; for my part, I am so attired in Wonder, I know not what to say. Beat. O on my Soul my Cousin is bely'd. Bene. Lady, were you her Bedfellow last Night? �Beat. No truly, not; altho' until last Night I have this Twelvemonth been her Bedfellow. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O that is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with Ribs of Iron. Would the Prince lie? and Claudio would he lie, Who lov'd her so, that speaking of her Foulness 367 Wash'd it with Tears? Hence from her, let her die. Frier. Hear me a little, for I have only been silent so long, and given way unto this course of Fortune, by noting of the Lady. I have mark'd A thousand blushing Apparitions To start into her Face, a thousand innocent Shames In Angel whiteness bear 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, Trust not my Reading, nor my Observations, Which with experimental Seal doth warrant The tenure of my Book; trust not my Age, My Reverence, Calling, nor Divinity, If this sweet Lady lye not guiltless here, Under some biting Error. Leon. Frier, 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, That which appears in proper Nakedness? Frier. Lady, what Man is he you are accus'd 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 warranty, 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. Frier. There is some strange Misprision in the Prince. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of Honour, And if their Wisdoms be miss-led in this, The Practice of it lives in John the Bastard, Whose Spirits toil in frame of Villanies. Leon. I know not: If they speak but Truth of her, These Hands shall tear her; if they wrong her Honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dry'd this Blood of mine, Nor Age so eat up my Invention, 368 Nor Fortune made such Havock of my Means, Nor my bad Life rest me so much of Friends, But they shall find awak'd in such a kind. Both Strength of Limb, and Policy of Mind, Ability in Means, and Choice of Friends, To quit me of them thoroughly. Frier. Pause a while, And let my Counsel sway you in this case. Your Daughter here the Princess (left for dead) Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed: 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? Frier. Marry, this well carry'd, 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 Travel look for greater Birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, �Upon the Instant that she was accus'd, Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd Of every Hearer: For so it falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we rack the Value, then we find The Virtue that Possession would not shew us Whilst it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio: When be shall hear she dy'd upon his Words, Th' Idea of her Life shall sweetly creep Into his Study of Imagination, And every lovely Organ of her Life Shall come apparel'd in more precious Habit; More moving, delicate, and full of Life, Into the Eye and Prospect of his Soul, Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn, If ever Love had Interest in his Liver, And wish he had not so accused her; No, tho' he thought his Accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not but Success 369 Will fashion the Event in better Shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all Aim but this be level'd false, The Supposition of the Lady's Death Will quench the Wonder of her Infamy. 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 Frier advice you, And tho' 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. Leon. Being that I flow in Grief, The smallest Twine may lead me. Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away, For to strange Sores, strangely they strain the Cure: Come Lady, die to live; this Wedding-Day �Perhaps is but prolong'd, have Patience and endure. [Exeunt.] [Manent Benedick and Beatrice.] 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 wrong'd. Beat. Ah how much might the Man deserve of me that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to shew such Friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such Friend. Bene. May a Man do it? 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 believe me not; and yet I lye not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing: I am sorry for my Cousin. Bene. By my Sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. Beat. �Do not swear by it and eat it. Bb 370 Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your Word? Bene. With no Sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest I love thee. Beat. Why then God forgive me. Bene. What Offence, sweet Beatrice? Beat. You have stay'd me in a happy Hour; I was about to protest I lov'd you. Bene. And do it with all thy Heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my Heart, that none is left to protest. Bene. Come bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide World. Beat. You kill me to deny; farewel. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. �I am gone tho' I am here; there is no Love in you; nay I pray you let me go. Bene. Beatrice. Beat. In faith I will go. Bene. We'll be Friends first. Beat. You dare easier be Friends with me, than fight with mine Enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine Enemy? Beat. Is he not approved in the height a Villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my Kinswoman? O that I were a Man! What, bear her in Hand until they come to take Hands, and then with publick Accusation, uncover'd Slander, unmittigated Rancour — O God that I were a Man, I would eat his Heart in the Market Place. 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 wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone. Bene. But—— Beat. Princes and Counties! surely a princely Testimony, a goodly Count-Comfect, a sweet Gallant surely; O that I were a Man for his sake! or that I had any Friend �371 would be a Man for my sake! But Manhood is melted into Curtesies, Valour into Compliment, and Men are only turn'd 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 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 wrong'd Hero? Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a Thought or a Soul. Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him, I will kiss your Hand, and so leave you; by this Hand, Claudio shall render me dear Account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your Cousin, I must say she is dead, and so farewel. [Exeunt.] [Enter Dogberry, Virges, Borachio, Conrade, the TownClerk and Sexton in Gowns.] To. Cl. Is our whole Dissembly appeared? Dog. O a Stool and Cushion for the Sexton. Sexton. Which be the Malefactors? Verg. Marry that am I, and my Partner. Dog. Nay, that's certain, we have the Exhibition to examine. �Sexton. But which are the Offenders that are to be examined! Let them come before Master Constable. To. Cl. Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is your Name Friend? Bora. Borachio. To. Cl. Pray write down Borachio. Yours Sirrah? Conr. I am a Gentleman Sir, and my Name is Conrade. To. Cl. Write down Master Gentleman, Conrade; Masters, do you serve God? Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false Knaves, and it will go hear to be thought so shortly; how answer you for your selves? Conr. Marry, Sir, we say we are none. To. Cl. A marvellous witty Fellow I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, Sirrah, a Word in your Ear, Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false Knaves. 372 Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. To. Cl. Well, Stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a Tale; have you writ down they are none? Sexton. Master Town-Clerk, you go not the way to examine, you must call the Watch that are their Accusers. To. Cl. Yea, marry that's the easiest Way, let the Watch come forth; Masters, I charge you in the Prince's Name accuse these Men. �I Watch. This Man said, Sir, that Don John, the Prince's Brother, was a Villain. To. Cl. Write down, Prince John a Villain; why this is flat Perjury, to call a Prince's Brother Villain. Bora. Master Town-Clerk. To. CI. Pray thee Fellow Peace, I do not like thy Look, I promise thee. Sexton. What heard you him say else? 2 Watch. Marry, That he had receiv'd a thousand Ducats of Don John, for the accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. Kemp. Flat Burglary as ever was committed. Dog. Yea by th' Mass that it is. Sexton. What else Fellow? 1 Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his Words, to disgrace Hero before the whole Assembly, and not marry her. To. Cl. O Villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting Redemption for this. Sexton. What else? 2 Watch. This is all. Sexton. And this is more Masters than you can deny, �Prince John is this Morning secretly stol'n away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and upon the Grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master Constable, let these Men be bounds and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their Examination. Dog. Come, let them be opinion'd. Sexton. Let them be in the Hands of Coxcomb. [Exit.] Dog. God's my Life, where's the Sexton? Let him write down the Prince's Officer Coxcomb, come, bind them, thou naughty Varlet. 373 Conr. Away, you are an Ass, you are an Ass. Dog. Dost thou not suspect my Place? dost thou not suspect my Years? O that he were here to write me down an Ass! But Masters, remember that I am an Ass, tho' it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an Ass; no thou Villain, thou art full of Piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good Witness, I am a wise Fellow, and which is more, an Officer; and which is more an Housholder; and which is more, as pretty a Piece of Flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the Law, go to, and a rich Fellow enough, go to, and a Fellow that hath had Losses, and one that hath two Gowns, and every thing handsome about him, bring him away; O that I had been writ down an Ass. [Exit.] A C T V. S C E N E I. [Enter Leonato and Antonio.] Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill your self, And 'tis not Wisdom thus to second Grief, Against your self. Leon. �I pray thee cease thy Counsel, Which falls into mine Bars as profitless As Water in a Sieve; give not me Counsel, Nor let no Comfort else delight mine Ear, But such a one whose Wrongs doth sute with mine. Bring me a Father that so lov'd his Child, Whose Joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, And bid him speak of Patience; Measure his Woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every Strain for Strain; As thus for thus, and such a Grief for such, In every Lineament, Branch, Shape, and Form; If such a one will smile and stroke his Beard, And hollow, wag, cry hem, when he should groan, Patch Grief with Proverbs, make Misfortune drunk, With Candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather Patience. Bb3 374 But there is no such Man; for Brother, Men Can council, and give Comfort to that Grief Which they themselves not feel, but tasting it, Their Counsel turns to Passion, which before Would give preceptial Medicine to Rage, Fetter strong Madness in a silken Thread, Charm Ach with Air, and Agony with Words. No, no, 'tis all Mens Office, to speak Patience To those that wring under the Load of Sorrow; But no Man's Virtue nor Sufficiency To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no Counsel, My Griefs cry louder than Advertisement. Ant. Therein do Men from Children nothing differ. Leon. I pray thee Peace, I will be Flesh and Blood, For there was never yet Philosopher, That could endure the Tooth-ach patiently; However they have writ the Stile of Gods, And made a push at Chance and Sufferance. Ant. Yet bend not all the Harm upon your self. Make those that do offend you suffer too. �Leon. There thou speak'st Reason, nay I will do so, My Soul doth tell me, Hero is bely'd, And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.] Ant. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. Pedro. Good den, good den, Claud. Good Day to both of you. Leon. Hear you, my Lords! Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. Leon. Some haste, my Lord! well fare you well, my Lord. Are you so hasty now? well all is one. Pedro. Nay do not quarrel with us, good old Man. Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lye low. Claud. Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry thou dost wrong me, thou Dissembler thou: Nay never lay thy hand upon thy Sword, I fear thee not. 375 Claud. Marry beshrew my Hand, If it should give your Age such Cause of Fear; Infaith my Hand meant nothing to my Sword. �Leon. Tush, tush, Man, never fleer and jest at me, I speak not like a Dotard nor a Fool, As under Privilege of Age to brag, What I have done, being young, or what would do, Were I not old: Know Claudio, to thy Head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent Child and me, That I am forc'd to lay my Reverence by, And with grey Hairs and Bruise of many Days Do challenge thee to trial of a Man; I say thou hast bely'd mine innocent Child, Thy Slander hath gone through and through her Heart, And she lyes bury'd with her Ancestors: O in a Tomb where never Scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram'd by thy Villany. Claud. My Villany? Leon. Thine Claudio, thine I say. Pedro. You say not right, old Man. Leon. My Lord, my Lord, I'll prove it on his Body if he dare; Despight his nice Fence, and his active Practice, His May of Youth and Bloom of Lustyhood. Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you. Leon. Can'st thou so daffe me? Thou hast kill'd my Child; If thou kill'st me Boy, thou shalt kill a Man. Ant. He shall kill two of us, and Men indeed; But that's no matter, let him kill one first; Win me and wear me, let him answer me; Come, follow me Boy, come Sir Boy; come, follow me. Sir Boy, I'll whip you from your foining Fence; Nay, as I am a Gentleman, I will. Leon. Brother. �Ant. Content your self, God knows I lov'd my Neice, And she is dead, slander'd to Death by Villains, That dare as well answer a Man indeed, As I dare take a Serpent by the Tongue. Boys, Apes, Braggarts, Jacks, Milksops. Leon. Brother Anthony. Ant. Hold you content; what Man? I know them, yea Bb4 376 And what they weigh, even to the utmost Scruple: Scambling, outfacing, fashion-mongring Boys, That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, Go antickly, and show an outward Hideousness, And speak of half a Dozen dangerous Words; How they might hurt their Enemies if they durst; And this is all. Leon. But brother Anthony: Ant. Come, 'tis no mater, Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your Patience; My Heart is sorry for your Daughter's Death; But on my Honour she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of Proof. Leon. My Lord, my Lord. Pedro. I will not hear you. [Enter Benedick.] Leon. No! come Brother away, I will be heard. [Exeunt amb.] �Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it. Pedro. See, see, here comes the Man we went to seek. Claud. Now Signior, what News? Bene. Good Day, my Lord. Pedro. Welcome Signior; you are almost come to part almost a Fray. Claud. We had like to have had our two Noses snapt off with two old Men without Teeth. Pedro. Leonato and his Brother; what thinkst thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. Bene. In a false Quarrel there is no true Valour: I came to seek you both. Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are high proof Melancholly, and would fain have it beaten away: Wilt thou use thy Wit? Bene. It is in my Scabbard; shall I draw it? Pedro. Dost thou wear thy Wit by thy Side? Claud. Never any did so, tho' very many have been beside their Wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the Minstrels draw to pleasure us. Pedro. As I am an honest Man he looks pale: Art thou Sick, or Angry? �377 Claud. What! Courage Man: What tho' Care kill'd a Cat, thou hast Mettle enough to kill Care. Ben. Sir, I shall meet your Wit in the Career, and you charge it against me. I pray you chuse another Subject. Claud. Nay, then give him another Staff, this last was broke cross. Pedro. By this Light he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed. Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his Girdle. Bene. Shall I speak a Word in your Ear? Claud. God bless me from a Challenge. Bene. You are a Villain; I jest not, I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your Cowardice: You have kill'd a sweet Lady, and her Death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. Claud. Well I will meet you, so I may have good Cheer. Pedro. What a Feast? Claud. I faith I thank him, he hath bid me to a Calves Head and a Capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my Knife's naught. Shall I not find a Woodcock too? Bene. Sir, your Wit ambles well, it goes easily. Pedro. �I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy Wit the other day: I said thou hadst a fine Wit; true says she, a fine little one; no, said I, a great Wit; right says she, a great gross one; nay said I, a good Wit; just said she, it hurts no body; nay said I, the Gentleman is wise; certain said she, a wise Gentleman; nay said I, he hath the Tongues; that I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double Tongue, there's two Tongues. Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular Virtues, yet at last she concluded with a Sigh, thou wast the properest Man in Italy. Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said she car'd not. Pedro. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly, the old Man's Daughter told us all. 378 Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the Garden. Pedro. But when shall we set the salvage Bull's Horns on the sensible Benedick's Head? Claud. Yea, and Text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the Married Man. Bene. Fare you well, Boy, you know my Mind, I will leave you now to your gossip-like Humour, you break Jests as Braggards do their Blades, which God be thank'd hurt not; my Lord, for your many Courtesies I thank you, I must discontinue your Company, your Brother the Bastard is fled from Messina; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent Lady for my Lord Lack-beard there; he and I shall meet, and till then peace be with him. [Exit Benedick.] Pedro. He is in earnest. �Claud. In most profound earnest, and I'll warrant you for the Love of Beatrice. Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee. Claud. Most sincerely. Pedro. What a pretty thing Man is when he goes in his Doublet and Hose, and leaves off his Wit. [Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded.] Claud. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to such a Man. Pedro. But soft you, let me see, pluck up my Heart, and be sad, did he not say my Brother was fled? Dog. Come you, Sir, if Justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more Reasons in her Ballance; nay, and you be a cursing Hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. Pedro. How now, two of my Brother's Men bound? Borachio one! Claud. Hearken after their Offence, my Lord. Pedro. Officers, what Offence have these Men done? Dog. Marry, Sir, they have committed false Report, moreover they have spoken Untruths; secondarily they are Slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a Lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust Things, and to conclude they are lying Knaves. Pedro. First I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their Offence; sixth and lastly why they �379 are committed, and to conclude, what lay you to their Charge? Claud. Rightly reason'd, and in his own Division, and by my Troth, there's one meaning well suited. Pedro. Whom have you offended, Masters, that you are thus bound to your Answer? This learned Constable is too cunning to be understood, what's your Offence? Bora. Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine Answer; do you hear me, and let this Count kill me; I have deceived even your very Eyes; what your Wisdoms could not discover, these shallow Fools have brought to light, who in the Night heard me confessing to this Man, how Don John your Brother incens'd me to slander the Lady Hero, now you were brought into the Orchard, and saw me Court Margaret in Hero's Garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should marry her; my Villany they have upon Record, which I had rather seal with my Death, than repeat over to my Shame; the Lady is dead upon mine and my Master's false Accusation, and briefly, I desire nothing but the Reward of a Villain. Pedro. Runs not this Speech like Iron through your Blood? Claud. I have drunk Poison while he utter'd it. Pedro. But did my Brother set thee on to this? Bora. Yea, and paid me rich for the Practice of it. Pedro. He is composed of Treachery, And fled he is upon this Villany. Claud. Sweet Hero, now thy Image doth appear In the rare Semblance that I lov'd it first. �Dog. Come bring away the Plaintiffs, by this time our Sexton hath inform'd Signior Leonato of the Matter; and Masters, do not forget to specifie when time and place shall serve, that I am an Ass. Verg. Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. [Enter Leonato.] Leon. Which is the Villain? Let me see his Eyes, That when I note another Man like him, I may avoid him; which of these is he? Bora. If you would know your Wronger, look on me. 380 Leon. Art thou, art thou the Slave that with thy Breath Hast kill'd mine innocent Child? Bora. Yea, even I alone. Leon. No, not so Villain, thou beli'st thy self; Here stand a pair of honourable Men, A third is fled that had a hand in it: I thank you Princes for my Daughter's Death, Record it with your high and worthy Deeds, 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. Claud. I know not how to pray your Patience, Yet I must speak, chuse your Revenge your self, Impose me to what Penance your Invention Can lay upon my Sin; yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking. Pedro. By my Soul nor I; And yet to satisfie this good old Man, I would bend under any heavy weight; �That he'll enjoin me too. Leon. You cannot bid my Daughter live again, That were impossible; but I pray you both Possess the People in Messina here How innocent she dy'd, and if your Love Can labour ought in sad Invention, Hang her an Epitaph upon her Tomb, And sing it to her Bones, sing it to Night: To Morrow Morning come you to my House, And since you could not be my Son-in-Law, Be yet my Nephew; my Brother hath a Daughter Almost the Copy of my Child that's dead, And she alone is Heir to both of us, Give her the Right you should have giv'n her Cousin, And so dies my Revenge. Claud. O Noble, Sir! Your over-Kindness doth wring Tears from me: I do embrace your Offer, and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. Leon. To Morrow then I will expect your coming, To Night I take my Leave; this naughty Man Shall Face to Face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was packt in all this Wrong, Hired to it by your Brother. 381 Bora. No by my Soul she was not. Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But always hath been just and virtuous. In any thing that I do know by her. Dog. Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this Plaintif here, the Offender did call me Ass; I beseech you let it be remembred in his Punishment; and also the Watch heard them talk of one Deformed: They say he wears a Key in his Ear, and a Lock hanging by it, and borrows Mony in God's Name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that now Men grow hard hearted, and will lend nothing for God's Sake. Pray you examine him upon that Point. �Leon. I thank thee for thy Care and honest Pains. Dog. Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend Youth; and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy Pains. Dog. God save the Foundation. Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy Prisoner; and I thank thee. Dog. I leave an errant Knave with your Worship, which I beseech your Worship to correct your self, for the Example of others. God keep your Worship; I wish your Worship well: God restore your Health; I humbly give you Leave to depart; and if a merry Meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. Come Neighbour. [Exeunt.] Leon. Until to Morrow Morning, Lords, farewel. Ant. Farewel my Lords, we look for you to Morrow. Pedro. We will not fail. Claud. To Night I'll mourn with Hero. Leon. Bring you these Fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, how her Acquaintance grew with this lewd Fellow. [Exeunt.] [Enter Benedick and Margaret.] Bene. Pray thee sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my Hands, by helping me to the Speech of Beatrice. Marg. �Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my Beauty? Bene. In so high a Stile Margaret, that no Man living shall come over it; for in most comely Truth thou deservest it. 382 Marg. To have no Man come over me; why, shall I always keep below Stairs? Bene. Thy Wit is as quick as the Greyhound's Mouth, it ketches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the Fencers Foils, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly Wit Margaret, it will not hurt a Woman; and so I pray thee call Beatrice; I give thee the Bucklers. Marg. Give us the Swords, we have Bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them Margaret, you must put it in the Pikes with a Vice, and they are dangerous Weapons for Maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath Legs. [Exit Margaret.] Bene. And therefore will come. The God of Love that sits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, I mean in Singing; but in loving, Leander the good Swimmer, Troilus the first Employer of Panders, and a whole Book full of these quondam Carpet-mongers, whose Names yet run smoothly in the even Road of a blank Verse, why they were never so truly turn'd over, as my poor self in Love; marry I cannot shew it in Rhime; I have try'd, I can find out no Rhime to a Lady but Baudy, an Innocents �Rhime; for scorn, horn, a hard Rhime; for school, fool, a babling Rhime; very ominous Endings; no, I was not born under a Rhiming Planet, for I cannot woo in festival Terms. [Enter Beatrice.] Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee? Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O stay but 'till then. Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now; and yet e'er I go, let me go with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath past between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul Words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. Beat. Foul Words are foul Wind, and foul Wind is but foul Breath, and foul Breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. Bene. Thou hast frighted the Word out of its rigth Sense, so forcible is thy Wit; but I must tell thee plainly, Clau383 dio undergoes my Challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a Coward; and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad Parts didst thou first fall in Love with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintained so politick a State of Evil, that they will not admit any good Part to intermingle with them: But for which of my good Parts did you suffer Love for me? Bene. Suffer Love! a good Epithete; I do suffer Love indeed, for I love thee against my Will. Beat. �In spight of your Heart, I think; alas poor Heart, if you spight it for my Sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will never love that which my Friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this Confession; there's not one wise Man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old Instance Beatrice, that liv'd in the Time of good Neighbours; if a Man do not erect in this Age his own Tomb e'er he dies, he shall live no longer in Monuments than the Bells ring, and the Widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question; why an Hour in Clamour, and a Quarter in Rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the Wise, if Don Worm (his Conscience) find no Impediment to the contrary, to be the Trumpet of his own Virtues, as I am to my self; so much for praising my self; who I my self will bear Witness is Praise-worthy; and now tell me how doth your Cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. [Enter Ursula.] Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Ursu. Madam, you must come to your Uncle; yonder's old Coil at Home; it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsly accus'd, the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the Author of all, who is fled and gone: Will �you come presently? Beat. Will you go hear this News, Signior? Bene. I will live in thy Heart, die in thy Lap, and be bu384 ried in thy Eyes; and moreover, I will go with thee to thy Uncle. [Exeunt.] [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with Tapers.] Claud. Is this the Monument of Leonato? Atten. It is my Lord. EPITAPH. Done to Death by Slanderous Tongues, Was the Hero that here lyes: Death in guerdon of her Wrongs, Gives her Fame which never dies: So the Life that dy'd with Shame, Lives in Death with glorious Fame. Hang thou there upon the Tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. Claud. Now Musick sound and sing your solemn Hymn. SONG. Pardon Goddess of the Night, Those that slew the Virgin Knight; For the which with Songs of Woe, Round about her Tomb they go. Midnight assist our Moan, Help us to Sigh and groan. Heavily, heavily, Graves yawn and yield your Dead, 'Till Death be Uttered, Heavenly, heavenly. Claud. �Now unto thy Bones goodnight; Yearly will I do this Right. Pedro. Good morrow Masters, put your Torches out, The Wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle Day Before the Wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie East with Spots of Grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow Masters; each his several way. Mus. Come, let us hence, and put on other Weeds, And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud. And Hymen now with luckier Issue speed, Than this for whom we rendred up this Woe. [Exeunt.] [Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Frier and Hero.] Frier. Did I not tell you she was Innocent? Leon. So are the Prince and Clandio who accus'd her. Upon the Error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some Fault for this; Although against her Will as it appears, In the true Course of all the Question. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by Faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well Daughter, and young Gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a Chamber by your selves, And when I send for you come hither Mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this Hour To visit me; you know your Office Brother, You must be Father to your Brother's Daughter, �And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies.] Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd Countenance. Bene. Frier, I must intreat your Pains, I think. Frier. To do what, Signior? Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior, Your Neice regards me with an Eye of Favour. Ant. That Eye my Daughter lent her, 'tis most true. Bene. And I do with an Eye of Love requite her. Leon. The Sight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your Will? Bene. Your Answer, Sir, is enigmatical, But for my Will, my Will is, your good Will May stand with ours, this Day to be conjoined I'th' State of honourable Marriage, In which, good Frier, I shall desire your help. Leon. My Heart is with your liking. Frier. And my help. [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with Attendants.] Pedro. Good Morrow to this fair Assembly. Leon. Good Morrow, Prince, good Morrow Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To Day to marry with my Brother's Daughter? �Claud. I'll hold my Mind, were she an Ethiope. Cc 386 Leon. Call her forth, Brother, here's the Frier ready. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick, why what's the matter; That you have such a February Face, So full of Frost, of Storm, and Cloudiness? Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage Bull: Tush, fear not Man, we'll tip thy Horns with Gold, And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the Noble Beast in Love. Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable Low, And some such strange Bull leapt your Father's Cow, And got a Calf in that same noble feat, Much like to you, for you have just his Bleat. [Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula.] Claud. For this I owe you; here come other Reckonings. Which is the Lady I must seize' upon? Leon. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why then she is mine; sweet let me see your Face. Leon. No, that you shall not, 'till you take her Hand Before this Frier, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your Hand before this holy Frier; I am your Husband if you like of me. Hero. And when I liv'd I was your other Wife; [unmasking.] �And when you lov'd you were my other Husband. Clau. Another Hero? Hero. Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd, but I do live; And surely as I live I am a Maid. Pedro. The former Hero, Hero that is dead. Leon. She dy'd my Lord, but whiles her Slander liv'd. Frier. All this Amazement can I qualifie, When after that the holy Rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's Death: Mean time let Wonder seem familiar, And to the Chappel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, Frier. Which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that Name, what is your Will? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. Why, no more than Reason. Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd, they swore you did. 387 Beat. Do not you love me? Bene. Troth no, no more than Reason. Beat. Why, then my Cousin, Margaret and Ursula �Are much deceiv'd, for they did swear you did. Bene. They swore you were almost sick for me. Beat. They swore your were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you do not love me? Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence. Leon. Come Cousin, I am sure you love the Gentleman. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her, For here's a Paper written in his Hand, A halting Sonnet of his own pure Brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. Hero. And here's another. Writ in my Cousin's Hand, stolen from her Pocket, Containing her Affection unto Benedick. Bene. A Miracle, here's our Hands against our Hearts; come I will have thee, but by this Light I take thee for pity. Beat. I would not deny you, but by this good Day, I yield upon great Perswasion, and partly to save your Life, for as I was told, you were in a Consumption. Leon. Peace, I will stop your Mouths. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the Married Man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince, a College of wittycrackers cannot flout me out of my Humour; dost thou think I care for a Satyr, or an Epigram? No, if a Man will be beaten with Brains, he shall wear nothing handsome �about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the World can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for Man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my Kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my Cousin. Claud. I had well hop'd thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have Cudgell'd thee out of thy single Life, to make thee a double Dealer, which out of Question thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Cc2 388 Bene. Come, come, we are Friends, let's have a Dance e'er we are Marry'd, that we may lighten our own Hearts, and our Wives Heels. Leon. We'll have Dancing afterwards. Bene. First, of my Word; therefore play Musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a Wife, get thee a Wife, there is no Staff more reverend than one tipt with Horn. [Enter Mes.] Messen. My Lord, your Brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed Men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him 'till to Morrow, I'll devise the brave Punishments for him. Strike up Pipers. Dance. [Exeunt.] � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Rowe, 1709) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Nicholas Rowe. Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat gondozott átirata. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksmrwilliams02rowegoog Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1709 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Nicholas Rowe (szerkesztő) Zsirka Richárd (digitális átirat gondozója) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv pdf Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Könyv Digitális szöveg Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. THE WORKS OF Mr. William Shakespear; IN SIX VOLUMES. ADORN'D with CUTS. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe, Efq; LONDON: Printed for Jacob Tonson, within Grays-Inn Gate, next Grays-Inn Lane. MDCCIX. VOLUME the FIRST. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Nicholas Rowe Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1709 First Page 320 Genre Komédia Language angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 70 Number of Volumes 6 Pages 320-388 Place London Publisher Jacob Tonson Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Volume 1 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/2ecf14148e35980c4c9df161b3a353c5.pdf cfbdcec42a538876c23b36ec05234b8f PDF Text Text Much Ado about Nothing Szerkesztette: Lewis Theobald ACT I. SCENE, a Court before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Hero, and Beatrice, with a Messenger. Leonato. Learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? Mess. But few of any Sort, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice it self, when the atchiever brings home full numbers; I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, call'd Claudio. Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself be- D d 2 �404 yond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better better'd expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not shew it self modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into tears? Mess. In great measure. Leon. A kind overflow of kindness; there are no faces truer than those that are so wash'd; how much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping? Beat. I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from the wars or no. Mess. I know none of that name, Lady; there was none such in the army of any Sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, Neice? Hero. My Cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. Mess. O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he �was. Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and challeng'd Cupid at the flight; and my Uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? but how many hath he kill'd? for, indeed, I promis'd to eat all of his killing. Leon. 'Faith, Neice, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good service, Lady, in these wars. Beat. You had musty victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent stomach. Mess. And a good soldier too, Lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady? but what is he to a lord? 405 Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stufft with all honourable virtues. Beat. It is so, indeed: (2) he is no less than a stuft �man: but for the stuffing, — well, we are all mortal. Leon. You must not, Sir, mistake my Neice; there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them. Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by That. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd with one: So that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? he hath every month a new sworn brother. Mess. Is it possible? Beat. Very easily possible; he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block. Mess. I see, Lady, the gentleman is not in your books. Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my Study. But, I pray you, who is his companion? is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. �Beat. O lord, he will hang upon him like a disease; he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught the Benedick; it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cur'd. D d 3 406 Mess. I will hold friends with you, Lady. Beat. Do, good friend. Leon. You'll ne'er run mad, Neice. Beat. No, not 'till a hot January. Mess. Don Pedro is approch'd. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and Don John. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. Pedro. You embrace yous charge too willingly: I think, this is your daughter. Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. �Bene. Were you in doubt, Sir, that you askt her? Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child. — Pedro. You have it full, Benedick; We may guess by this what you are, being a man: truly, the lady fathers her self; be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father. Bene. If Signior Leonato be her Father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder, that you will still be talking, Signior Benedict; no body marks you. Bene. What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? Beat. Is it possible, Disdain should die, while she hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesie it self must convert to Disdain, if you come in her presence. Bene. Then is courtesie a turn-coat; but it is certain, I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. 407 Beat. A dear happiness to women; they would else �have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me. Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were. Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. Bene. I would, my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer; but keep your way a God's name, I have done. Beat. You always end with a jade's trick; I know you of old. Pedro. This is the sum of all: Leonato, — Signior Claudio, and Signior Benedick, — my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all; I tell him, we shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartily prays, some occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear he is no hypocrite; but prays from his heart. Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. Let me bid You welcome, my lord, being �reconciled to the prince your brother; I owe you all duty. John. I thank you; I am not of many words, but I thank you. Leon. Please it your Grace lead on? Pedro. Your hand, Leonato we will go together. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio. Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? Bene. I noted her not, but I look'd on her. Claud. Is she not a modest young lady? Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? or would you have D d 4 408 me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? Claud. No, I pry'thee, speak in sober judgment. Bene. Why, i'faith, methinks, she is too low for an high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not �like her. Claud. Thou think'st, I am in sport; I pray thee, tell me truly how thou lik'st her. Bene. Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into; but speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the Song? Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that I ever look'd on. Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter; there's her Cousin, if she were not possest with such a Fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: but I hope, you have no intent to turn husband, have you? Claud. I would scarce trust my self, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. Bene. Is't come to this, in faith? hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion? shall I never see a batchelor of threescore again? go to, i'faith, if thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays: look, Don �Pedro is return'd to seek you. Re-enter Don Pedro and Don John. Pedro. What Secret hath held you here, that you follow'd not to Leonato's house? Bene. I would, your Grace would constrain me to tell. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. 409 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 whom? 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. Pedro. Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy. Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord. �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 speak mine. Claud. That I love her, I feel. 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. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretick in the despight 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 recheate 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 my self the Right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the which I may go the finer,) I will live a batchelor. 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, 410 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. 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 clapt on the shoulder, and call'd Adam. (3) 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 411 Horse to hire, let them signifie under my Sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd man. Claud. If this should ever happen, thou would'st be horn-mad. �Pedro. Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. Bene. I look for an earthquake too then. 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 - Claud. To the tuition of God; From my house, if I had it, — Pedro. The sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedick. Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not; the 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. Pedro. My love is thine to teach, teach it but how, 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? �Pedro. No child but Hero, she's his only heir: Dost thou affect her, Claudio? 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. 412 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 complection! But left my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity; Look, what will serve, is fit; 'tis once, thou lov'st; �And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know, we shall have revelling to night; I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell fair Hero I am Claudio; And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart, And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale: Then, after, to her father will I break; And the conclusion is, she shall be thine; In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt. Re-enter Leonato and Antonio. Leon. How now, brother, where is my Cousin your son? hath he provided this musick? Ant. He is very busie about it; but, brother, I can tell you news that you yet dream'd not of. Leon. Are they good? Ant. As the event stamps them, but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in my orchard, were thus over-heard by a man of mine: The Prince discover'd to Claudio, that he lov'd my neice 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. 413 �Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this? Ant. A good sharp fellow; I will send for him, and question him your self. Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a dream, 'till it appear it self: but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for answer, if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of it: Cousins, you know what you have to do. [Several cross the Stage here.] O, I cry you mercy, friend, go you with me and I will use your skill; good Cousin, have a care this busie time. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to an Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Don John and Conrade. Conr. What the good-jer, my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit. Conr. You should hear reason. John. And when I have heard it, what Blessing bringeth it? Conr. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. John. I wonder, that thou (being, as thou say'st: thou �art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsie, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. Conr. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, 'till you may do it without controlement; 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 root, but by the fair weather that you make your self; it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. 414 John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this, (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing villain; I am trusted with a muzzel, and infranchised with a clog, therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. Conr. Can you make no use of your discontent? John. I will make all use of it, for I use it only. �Who comes here? what news, Borachio? Enter Borachio. Bora. I came yonder from a great supper; the Prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? what is he for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietnss? Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. John. Who, the most exquisite Claudio? Bora. Even he. John. A proper Squire! and who, and who? which way looks he? Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. John. A very forward March chick! How come you to this? Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed upon, that the Prince should woo Hero for himself; and having obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio. �John. Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my displeasure: that young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any 415 way, I bless my self every way; you are both sure, and will assist me. Conr. To the death, my lord. John. Let us to the great supper; their Cheer is the greater, that I am subdu'd; would the cook were of my mind! — Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE, a Hall in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret and Ursula. Leonato. Was not Count John here at Supper? Ant. I saw him not. �Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after. Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made just in the mid-way 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 tatling. 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 mony enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good Will. Leon. By my troth, Neice, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. Ant. In faith, she's too curst. 416 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 lye in woollen. Leon. You may light upon 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 six pence in earnest of the bear-herd, 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 his horns on his head, and say, "get you to heaven, Beatrice, get "you to heav'n, here's no place for you maids." so deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns; he shews me where the batchelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. Ant. Well, Neice, I trust, you will be rul'd by your father. [To Hero. Beat. Yes, faith, it is my Cousin's duty to make �curtsie, and say, Father, as it please you; but yet for all that, Cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases me. Leon. Well, Neice, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. Beat. Not 'till God make men of some other metal than earth; would it not grieve a woman to be over- 417 master'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make account of her life to a clod of way-ward marle? no, uncle, I'll none; Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told you; if the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your answer. Beat. The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if you be, not woo'd in good time; (4) If the Prince be too important, tell him, there is measure in every thing, 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 anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into his grave. �Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by day-light. Leon. The revellers are entring, brother; make good room. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade. 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. Pedro. With me in your company? Hero. I may say so, when I please. Pedro. And when please you to say so? Vol. I. E e 418 Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend, the lute should be like the case! Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. �Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd. 419 Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. Balth. Well; I would, you did like me. (6) Marg. So would not I for your own fake, for I have many ill qualities. Balth. Which is one? Marg. I say my Prayers aloud. Balth. I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen. Marg. God match me with a good dancer! Balth. Amen. Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done! Answer, Clerk. Balth. No more words, the clerk is answer'd. Urs. I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio. Ant. At a word, I am not. �Urs. I know you by the wagling of your head. Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless 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 it self? 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? E e 2. 420 �Beat. I am sure, you know him well enough. Bene. Not I, believe me. Beat. Did he never make you laugh? Bene. I pray you, what is he? 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 villany; for he 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 boarded me. Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. Beat. Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Musick within. Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt. Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio. �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. Bora. And that is Claudio; I know him by his Bearing. John. Are you not Signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well, I am he. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero; I 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 ye, he loves her? John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to night. 421 John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt John and Bor. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so, the Prince wooes for himself. �Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love; Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues, Let every eye negotiate for it self, And trust no agent; beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewel then, Hero! 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 an 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. I 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 fowle! now will he creep into sedges. But that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! the Prince's fool! ha? it may be, I go under that Title, because I am merry; yea, but so I am apt to do my self wrong: I am not so reputed. It is the base (tho' bitter) disposition of E e 1 422 Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may. Enter Don Pedro. Pedro. Now, Signior, where's the Count? did you see him? Bene. Troth, my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the Will of this young lady, and I offer'd 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 whipt. Pedro. To be whipt! what's his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who, being over-joy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it. 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 bestow'd on you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his bird's 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 quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you. Bene. O, she misus'd me past the indurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been my self, that I was the Prince's jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw; hudling jest �423 upon jest, with such impassable conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me; she speaks Ponyards, and every word stabs; if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the North-Star; I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd; she would have made Hercules have turn'd Spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her the infernal Ate 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. Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero. Pedro. Look, here she comes. Bene. Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any ambassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy; you have no employment for me? �Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. Bene. O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. I cannot indure this Lady Tongue. Pedro. Come, Lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed, my Lord, he lent it me a while, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for a single one; E e 4 424 marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say, I have lost it. Pedro. You have put him down, Lady, you have put him down. Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools: I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. Pedro. Why, how now, Count, wherefore are you sad? Claud. Not sad, my Lord. 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. Pedro. I'faith, Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained; name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. 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. — Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away my self for you, and doat upon the exchange. Beat. Speak, Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither. Pedro. In faith, Lady, you have a merry heart. Beat. Yea, my Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care; my cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart. �Claud. And so she doth, cousin. Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! thus goes every 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. 425 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. 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. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. Beat. No, sure, my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a star danc'd, and under that I was born. Cousins, God give you joy. Leon. Neice, will you look to those things I told you of? �Beat. I cry you mercy, Uncle: by your Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice. 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 when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dream'd of an happiness, and wak'd her self with laughing. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. Leon. O, by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of suit. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. Leon. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? 426 Claud. To morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches, 'till love have all his rites. Leon. Not 'till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night, and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. �Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will in the Interim undertake one of Hercules's labours, which is to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other; I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. Leon. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings. Claud. And I, my Lord. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero. I will do any modest office, my Lord, to help my Cousin to a good husband. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far I can praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour your Cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will fo practise on Benedick, that in despight of his quick wit, and his queasie stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice: if we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be ours, for we are the only Love-Gods; go in with me, and I Will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. �SCENE changes to another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Don John and Borachio. John. It is so, the Count Claudio shall marry the Daughter of Leonato. Bora. Yea, my Lord, but I can cross it. 427 John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me; I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? Bora. Not honestly, my Lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. John. Shew me briefly how. Bora. I think, I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waitinggentlewoman to Hero. John. I remember. Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's chamber-window. �John. What life is in That, to be the death of this marriage? Bora. The poison of That lyes in you to temper; go you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his Honour in marrying the renown'd Claudio, (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated Stale, such a one as Hero. John. What proof shall I make of That? Bora. Proof enough, to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you for any other issue? John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. Bora. Go then find me a meet hour, to draw Don 428 Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them, that you know, Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, (as in a love of your Brother's honour who hath made this match;) and his friend's reputation, (who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of a maid,) that you have discover'd thus; they will hardly believe this without tryal: offer them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the in- �tended Wedding; for in the mean time I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truths of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousie shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thosand ducats. 429 Bora. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Leonato's Orchard. Enter Benedick, and a Boy. Bene. BOY, - Boy. Signior, Bene. In my chamber window lies a book, bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. I am here already, Sir. [Exit Boy. Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence, �and here again. — I do much wonder, that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love! and such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no musick with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the taber and the pipe; I have known, when he would have walk'd ten mile a-foot, to see a good armour; and now will he lye ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turn'd orthographer, his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool: one woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But 'till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; "wise, 430 "or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her: "fair, or I'll never look on her"; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdraws. �Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthazar. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this musick? Claud. Yea, my good lord; how still the evening is, As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? Claud. O very well, my lord; the musick ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander musick any more than once. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection; I pray thee, sing; and let me woo no more. Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes; Yet will he swear, he loves. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come; Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes. Balth. Note this before my notes, There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting. �Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks, Note, notes, forsooth, and noting. Bene, Now, divine air; now is his soul ravish'd! is it not strange, that sheeps guts should hale souls out 431 of mens bodies? well, a horn for my money, when all's done. The SONG. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blith and bonny; Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nony, nony. Sing no more ditties, sing no mo, Of dumps so dull and heavy; The frauds of men were ever so, Since summer was first leafy: Then sigh not so, &c. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. �Pedro. Ha, no; no, faith; thou sing'st well enough for a shift. Bene. If he had been a dog, that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him; and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief: I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent musick; for to morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamberwindow. Balth. The best I can, my lord. [Exit Balthazar. Pedro. Do so: farewel. Come hither, Leonato; what was it you told me of to day, that your Neice Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? Claud. O, ay; — stalk on, stalk on, the fowl sits. I did never think, that lady would have loved any man. 432 Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. Bene. Is't possible, sits the wind in that corner? [Aside. �Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. Claud. Faith, like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shews she? Claud. Bait the hook well, this fish will bite. [Aside. Leon. What effects, my lord? she will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. Claud. She did, indeed. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I would have thought, her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. Leon. I would have sworn, it had, my lord; especially against Benedick. Bene. [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. Claud. He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. [Aside. �Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? Leon. No, and swears she never will; that's her torment. Claud. 'Tis true, indeed, so your daughter says: shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him? Leon. This says she now, when she is beginning to write to him; for she'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she fit in her smock, 'till she have writ a sheet of paper; my daughter tells us all. Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. 433 Leon. O, — when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet. Claud. That. - Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; rail'd at her self, that she should be so immodest, to write to one that, she knew, wou'd flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own Spirit, for I should flout him if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should. �Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; O sweet Benedick! God give me patience! Leon. She doth, indeed, my daughter says so; and the ecstasie hath so much overborn her, that my daughter is sometime afraid, she will do desperate outrage to her self; it is very true. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. Pedro. If he should, it were an Alms to hang him; she's an excellent sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous. Claud. And she is exceeding wise. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. Pedro. I would, she had bestow'd this dotage on me; I would have dafft all other respects, and made her half Vol. I. Ff �434 half my self; I pray you, tell Benedick of it; and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks, surely she will die; for she says, she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustom'd crossness. Pedro. She doth well; if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible, he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. Claud. He is a very proper man. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and, in my mind, very wise. Pedro. He doth, indeed, shew some sparks that are like wit. Leon. And I take him to be valiant. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a christian-like fear. �Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. Pedro. And so will he do, for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your Neice: shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love? Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. Leon. Nay, that's impossible, she may wear her heart out first. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. Leon. My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Aside. 435 Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry; the sport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the Scene �that I would see, which will be meerly a Dumb Show; let us send her to call him to dinner. [Aside.] [Exeunt. Benedick advances from the Arbour. Bene. This can be no trick, the conference was sadly born; they have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited: I hear, how I am censur'd; they say, I will bear my self proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. — I did never think to marry — I must not seem proud — happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear, them witness: and virtuous; — 'tis so, I cannot reprove it: and wise, but for loving me — by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her. — I may chance to have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quipps and sentences, and these paperbullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? no: the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a batchelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day, she's a fair lady; I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter Beatrice. �Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. F f 2 436 Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. Bene. You take pleasure then in the message. Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no stomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit. Bene. Ha! against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner: — there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me; — that's as much as to say, any pains that I take for you is as easie as thanks. if I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her Picture. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE continues in the Orchard. �Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour, There shalt thou find my Cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio; Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleached Bower, Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the Sun, Forbid the Sun to enter; like to Favourites, Made proud by Princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her, To listen our Propose, this is thy office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. 437 Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, presently. [Exit. Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down, Our Talk must only be of Benedick; When I do name him, let it be thy Part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My Talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice; of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hear-say: now begin. Enter Beatrice, running towards the Arbour. �For look, where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Close by the ground to hear our conference. Ursu. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait; So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now Is couched in the woodbine-coverture; Fear you not my part of the dialogue. Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. — No, truly, Ursula, she's too disdainful; I know, her spirits are as coy and wild, As haggerds of the rock. Ursu. But are you sure, That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely? Hero. So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. Ursu. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it; But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrastle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Ursu. Why did you so? doth not the Gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deserve �As much as may be yielded to a man: But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. F f 3 438 Disdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Mis-prizing what they look on; and her wit Values it self so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak; she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-indeared. Ursu. Sure, I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, But she would spell him backward; if fair-fac'd, She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed, If low, an Aglet very vilely cut; 439 If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns me every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue That, �Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. Ursu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No; for to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? if I should speak, She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me Out of my self, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly; It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling. Ursu. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say. Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my Cousin with; one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking. Ursu. O, do not do your Cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment, (Having so swift and excellent a wit, As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Benedick. Hero. He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. Ursu. I pray you, be not angry with me, Madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, �F f 4 440 For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, Goes formost in report through Italy. Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. Ursu. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam? Hero. Why, every day; to morrow; come, go in, I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to morrow. Ursu. She's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught her, Madam. Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupids kill with arrows, Some with traps. [Exeunt. Beatrice, advancing. Beat. What fire is in my ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn so much? Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee; Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; �If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say, thou dost deserve; and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. SCENE, Leonato's House. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. I Do but stay 'till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. Pedro. Nay, That would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the soale of his foot, he is all 'mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, 441 and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So say I; methinks, you are sadder. �Claud. I hope, he is in love. Pedro. Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; if he be sad, he wants mony. Bene. I have the tooth-ach. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it. Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach! Leon. Which is but a humour, or a worm. Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutch man to day, a French man to morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, a German from the waste downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is. �Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs; he brushes his hat o'mornings; what should that bode? Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's? Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuft tennis-balls. Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet; can you smell him out by that? Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. 442 Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face? Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him. Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string and now govern'd by stops — Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, he is in love. �Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not. Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him. Pedro. She shall be bury'd with her heels upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old Signior, walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wise words to speak to you which these hobbyhorses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another, when they meet. 443 Enter Don John. John. My Lord and brother, God save you. Pedro. Good den, brother. John. If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. Pedro. In private? �John. If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear; for, what I would speak of, concerns him. Pedro. What's the matter? John. Means your lordship to be marry'd to morrow? [To Claudio. Pedro. You know, he does. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, discover it. John. You may think, I love you not, let that appear hereafter; and aim better at me by That I now will manifest; for my brother, I think, he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage; surely, Suit ill spent, and Labour ill bestow'd! Pedro. Why, what's the matter? John. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal. Claud. Who? Hero? John. Even she, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. �Claud. Disloyal? John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it; wonder not 'till further warrant; go but with me to night, you shall see her chamber-window enter'd, even the night before her wedding day; if you love her, then to morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. Claud. May this be so? Pedro. I will not think it. 444 John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know; if you will follow me, I will shew you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. Claud. If I see any thing to night why I should not marry her to morrow; in the Congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. John. I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are my witnesses; bear it coldly but 'till night, and let the issue shew it self. �Pedro. O day untowardly turned! Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting! John. O plague right well prevented! So will you say, when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Street. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch. Dogb. ARE you good men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's Watch. Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. Dogb. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? 1 Watch. Hugh Oatecake, Sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read. Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacole: God hath �blest you with a good name; and to be a well-favour'd man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. 2 Watch. Both which, master constable — Dogb. You have: I knew, it would be your answer. Well, for your Favour, Sir, why, give God thanks, 445 and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity: you are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the Constable of the Watch, therefore bear you the lanthorn; this is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand in the Prince's name. 2 Watch. How if he will not stand ? Dogb. Why, then take no note of him, but let him go ; and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's Subjects. Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's Subjects : you shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the Watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endur'd. �2 Watch. We will rather sleep, than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch. Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how Sleeping should offend; only have a care that your Bills be not stolen: well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed. 2 Watch. How if they will not ? Dogb. Why, then let them alone 'till they are sober; if they make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not the men you took them for. 2 Watch. Well, Sir. Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him by vertue of your office to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. 2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? Dogb. Truly, by your office you mays; but, I think, they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your company. 446 �Verg. You have been always call'd a merciful man, Partner. Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 2. Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Dogb. Why, then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats. Verg. 'Tis very true. Dogb. This is the end of the charge: you, constable, are to present the Prince's own person; if you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him. Verg. Nay, birlady, that, I think, he cannot. Dogb. Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the Statues, he may stay him; marry, not without the Prince be willing: for, indeed, the Watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. Verg. Birlady, I think, it be so. Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! well, masters, good night; an �there be any matter of weight chances, call up me; keep your fellow's counsels and your own, and good night; come, neighbour. 2. Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge; let us go sit here upon the church-bench 'till two, and then all to bed. Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the Wedding being there to morrow, there is a great coil to night; adieu; be vigilant, I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. Enter Borachio and Conrade. Bora. What? Conrade,-- Watch. Peace, stir not. [Aside. Bora. Conrade, I say. 447 Conr. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. Bora. Mass, and my elbow itch'd, I thought there would a scab follow. Conr. I will owe thee an answer for that, and now forward with thy tale. �Bora. Stand thee close then under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch Some treason, masters; yet stand close. Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. Conr. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible any villany should be so rich? for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. Conr. I wonder at it. Bora. That shews, thou art unconfirm'd; thou knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak is nothing to a man. Conr. Yes, it is apparel. Bora. I mean, the fashion. Conr. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Bora. Tush, I may as well say, the fool's the fool; but seest thou not, what a deformed thief this fashion is? �Watch. I know that Deformed, he has been a vile thief this seven years;he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. Bora. Didst thou not hear some body? Conr. No, 'twas the vane on the house. Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hotbloods between fourteen and five and thirty; sometimes fashioning them like Pharao's soldiers in the reachy painting; sometimes, like the God Bel's priests in the old church-window; sometimes, like the shaven Hercules in the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massie as his club. 448 Conr. All this I see, and see, that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man;but art not thou thy self giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ? Bora. Not so neither; but know, that I have to night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber- window, bids me a thousand times, good night — I tell this tale vildly — I should first tell thee, how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed, and possessed by my master Don John, saw a far off in the orchard this amiable encounter. �Conr. And thought they, Margaret was Hero ? Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew, she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possest them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore, he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the Temple, and there before the whole Congregation shame her with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again without a husband. 1 Watch. We charge you in the Prince's name, stand. 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable; we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the common-wealth. 1 Watch, And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock. Conr. Masters, masters, — 449 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Conr. Masters,--- 1 Watch. Never speak ; we charge you, let us obey �you to go with us. Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these mens bills. Conr. A commodity in question, I warrant you : come, we'll obey you. \Exeunt. SCENE, Hero's Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula. Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. Ursu. I will, lady. Hero. And bid her come hither. Ursu. Well. Marg. Troth, I think, your other Rebato were better. Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. Marg. By my troth, it's not so good; and, I warrant, your cousin will say so. Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a �most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the Dutchess of Milan 's gown, that they praise so. Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours; cloth of gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves and skirts, round, underborn with a blueish tinsel ; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy! Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. VoL: I, G g 450 Hero. Fie upon thee, art not asham'd? Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think, you would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a husband? none, I think, if it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes. �Enter Beatrice. Hero. Good morrow, coz. Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. Hero. Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune? Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. Marg. Clap us into Light o'love; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. Beat. Yes, Light o'love with your heels; then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns. Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready : by my troth, I am exceeding ill ; hey ho ! Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. Beat. What means the fool, trow? �Marg. Nothing I, but God send every one their heart's desire! Hero. These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. Beat. I am stuft, cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuft! there's goodly catching of cold. Beat. O, God help me, God help me, how long have you profest apprehension? Marg. Ever since you left it; doth not my wit become me rarely? 451 Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm. Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus? why Benedictus? you have some 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, birlady, �I am not such a fool to think what I lift; nor I lift not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with 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 never marry; and yet now, in despight of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted, I know not; but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? Marg. Not a false gallop. Ursu. 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. SCENE, another Apartment in Leonato's House Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour? Dogb. Marry, Sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly. Leon. Brief, I pray you; for, you see, 'tis a busy time �with me. Gg2 452 Dogb. Marry, this it is, Sir. Ver. Yes, in truth it is, Sir. Leon. What is it, my good friends? Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter; an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were, but, in faith, as 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. Dogb. Comparisons are odorous; palabras, neighbour Verges. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Dogb. It pleases your worship to fay so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ha? Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than �'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and tho' 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 worship's presence, hath ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves, as any in Messina. Dogb. 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, he's a good man; an two men ride an horse, one must ride behind; an honest foul, i'faith, Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God is to be worship'd; all men are not alike, alas, good neighbour! Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts, that God gives. Leon. I must leave you. Dogb. One word, Sir ; our Watch have, indeed, comprehended two auspicious persons; and we would have them this morning examin'd before your worship. 453 �Leon. Take their examination your self, and bring it me; I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. Dogb. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Ex. Leon. Dogb. Go, good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant; here's That shall drive some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the Jail. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE, a Church. Enter D.Pedro, D.John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice. �Leonato COME, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. Friar. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady? Claud. No. Leon. To be marry'd to her, friar; you come to marry her. G g 3 454 Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count? Hero. I do. Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your souls to utter it. Claud. Know you any, Hero ? 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 men daily do! not knowing what they do! Bene. How now! Interjections? why, then some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he! Claud. Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave; Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid your daughter? 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? Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness: 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 shew of truth Can cunning sin cover it self 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 shews? but she is none : She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. �Leon. What do you mean, my Lord ? Claud. Not to be marry'd, Not knit my soul to an approved Wanton. 455 Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own approof (16) 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, You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large; But, as a brother to his sister, shew'd Bashful sincerity, and comely love. Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy Seeming! I will write against it; 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 That rage in savage sensuality. Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide? Leon. Sweet Prince, why speak not you? �Pedro. What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common Stale. Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This looks not like a Nuptial. Hero. True! O God! Claud. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother? Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? G g 4 456 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. Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Hero. O God defend me, how am I beset! What kind of catechizing call you this ? �Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any just reproach? Claud. Marry, that can Hero; Hero her self 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. Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord. Pedro. Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry, you must hear; upon mine Honour, My self, my Brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a russian at her chamber-window; Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, Not to be spoken of; There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been plac'd About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart? But fare thee well, most soul, most fair ! farewel, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! �For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall Conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm; And never shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? 457 Beat. Why, how now, Cousin, wherefore sink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exe. D.Pedro, D. John and Claud. Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think; help, uncle. Hero! why, Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick! friar! Leon. O fate! take not away thy heavy hand; Death is the fairest cover for her shame, That may be wish'd for. Beat. How now, cousin Hero? Friar. Have comfort. Lady. Leon. Dost thou look up ? �Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not? 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, Thought I, thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, My self would en the rereward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for That at frugal nature's frame? I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not, with charitable hand, Took up a beggar's issue at my gates? Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamy, I might have said, no part of it is mine; This shame derives it self from unknown loins : But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much, That I my self was to my self not mine, Valuing of her; why, she — O, she is fall'n 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 To her soul tainted flesh! 458 Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient; For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, I know not what to say. �Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is bely'd. Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? Beat. No, truly, not; altho' until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, That is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron. Would the two Princes lie? and Claudio lie? Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? hence from her, let her die. Friar. Hear me a little, For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady. I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness bear 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, Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenour of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here, Under some biting error. Leon. 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 That, which appears in proper nakedness? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd 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, Let all my sins lack mercy. O my father, 459 Prove you that any man with me convers'd At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. Friar. There is some strange misprision in the Princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour, And if their wisdoms be mis-led in this, The Practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. Leon. I know not: if they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour. The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dry'd this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havock of my means, Nor my bad life rest me so much of friends, �But they shall find awak'd, 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. Friar. Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the Princes left for dead; Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead, indeed: Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family's old Monument 460 Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do? Friar. Marry, this, well carry'd, 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 travel look for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Upon the instant that she was accus'd, Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd, Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, (18) Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and loft, Why, then we rack the value; then we find The virtue that possession would not shew us Whilst it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio: �When he shall hear she dy'd upon his words, Th' idea of her Life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit; More moving, delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest: in his liver, And with, he had not so accused her ; No, though he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not, but success 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 461 Will quench the wonder of her infamy. 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: 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. Leon. Being that I slow in grief, �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, Perhaps, is but prolong'd : have patience and endure. [Exeunt. Manent Benedick and Beatrice. 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 wrong'd. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man do it? 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 believe me not; and yet I lye not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it. 462 Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word? Bene. With no sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest, I love thee. Beat. Why then, God forgive me. Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? Beat. You have stay'd me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I lov'd you. Bene. And do it with all thy heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. �Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to deny; farewel. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love in you; nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice,-- Beat. In faith, I will go. Bene. We'll be friends first. Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my kinswoman! O that I were a man! what bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with publick accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated rancour — O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. 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 wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone. Bene. Beat-- 463 Beat. Princes and Counts! surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect, a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! but manhood is melted into curtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turn'd 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 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 wrong'd Hero ? Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him, �I will kiss your hand, and so leave you; by this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your cousin; I must say, she is dead, and so farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to a Prison. Enter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the Town-Clerk and Sexton in Gowns. To.Cl. Is our whole dissembly appear'd? Dog. O, a stool and a cushion for the Sexton! Sexton. Which be the malefactors? Verg. Marry, that am I and my Partner. Dog. Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine. Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examin'd ? let them come before master constable. To.Cl. Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is your name, friend? Bora. Borachio. To.Cl. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, Sirrah? Conr. I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade. �464 To. Cl. Write down, master gentleman Conrade; masters, do you serve God? Both. Yea, Sir, we hope. (19) To. Cl. 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 are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly; how answer you for your selves ? Com. Marry, Sir, we say, we are none. To. Cl. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah, a word in your ear, Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are both false knaves. Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. To. Cl. Well, stand aside; 'fore God, they are both in a tale; have you writ down, that they are none? Sexton. Master town-clerk, you go not the way to examine, you must call the watch that are their accusers. To.Cl. Yea, marry, that's the deftest way, let �465 the Watch come forth; masters, I charge you in the Prince's name accuse these men. Enter Watchmen. 1 Watch. This man said, Sir, that Don John the Prince's brother was a villain. To. Cl. Write down, Prince John a villain; why this is flat perjury, to call a Prince's brother villain. Bora. Master town-clerk, --- To. Cl. Pray thee, fellow, peace; I do not like thy look, I promise thee. Sexton. What heard you him say else? 2 Watch. Marry, that he had receiv'd a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully. To.Cl. Flat burglary, as ever was committed. Dog. Yea, by th'mass, that it is. Sexton. What else fellow? 1 Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. �To. Cl. O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for this. Sexton. What else? 2 Watch. This is all. Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stoll'n away : Hero was in this manner accus'd, and in this very manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master Constable, let these men be bound and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their examination. [Exit. Dog. Come, let them be opinion'd. Conr. Let them be in the hands of Coxcomb! Vol. I. H h 466 Dog. God's my life, where's the Sexton? let him write down the Prince's officer Coxcomb: come, bind them, thou naughty varlet. Conr. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.--- Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not 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 prov'd upon thee by good witness; I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer; and which is more, an housholder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the law; go to, and a rich fellow enough; go to, and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him; bring him away; O that I had been writ down an ass!— — [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE, before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio. Antonio. IF you go on thus, you will kill yourself; And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against your self. Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve; give not me counsel, Nor let no Comforter delight mine ear, But such a one whose wrongs do suite with mine. Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, And bid him speak of patience; 467 �Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain: As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape and form; If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And Sorrow wage; cry, hem! when he should groan Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage; Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ach with air, and agony with words. No, no; 'tis all mens office to speak patience H h 2 468 To those, that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no counsel; My griefs cry louder than advertisement. Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ. Leon. I pray thee, peace; I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ach patiently; �However they have writ the style of Gods, And made a pish at chance and sufferance. Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon your self: Make those, that do offend you, suffer too. Leon. There thou speak'st reason; nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me, Hero is bely'd; And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince; And all of them, that thus dishonour her. Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio. Ant. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. Pedro. Good den, good den. Claud. Good day to both of you. Leon. Hear you, my lords ? Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. 469 Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lordAre you so hasty now? well, all is one. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lye low. �Claud. Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou! Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, I fear thee not. Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear; In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me; I speak not like a dotard nor a fool; As, under privilege of age, to brag What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old: know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent child and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by; And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to tryal of a man; I say, thou hast bely'd mine innocent child, Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lyes bury'd with her ancestors, O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany! Claud. My villany? Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. Pedro. You say not right, old man. Leon. My lord, my lord, �I'll prove it on his body, if he dare; Despight his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you. Leon. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kill'd my child; H h 3 470 If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed; But that's no matter, let him kill one first; Win me and wear me, let him answer me; Come, follow me, boy; come, boy, follow me; Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. Leon. Brother,--- Ant. Content your self; God knows, I lov'd my Niece; And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man, indeed, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! Leon. Brother Anthony,--- �Ant. Hold you content; what, man? I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple: Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mongring boys, That lye, and cog, and slout, deprave and slander. Go antickly, and show an outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, (25) How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; And this is all. Leon. But, brother Anthony,--- Ant. Come, 'tis no matter; 471 Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; But, on my Honour, she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. Leon. My lord, my lord--- Pedro. I will not hear you. Leon. No! come, brother, away, I will be heard. Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it. [Exe. ambo. �Enter Benedick. Pedro. See, see, here comes the man we went to seek. Claud. Now, Signior, what news? Bene. Good day, my lord. Pedro. Welcome, Signior; you are almost come to part almost a fray. Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth. Pedro. Leonato and his brother; what think'st thou? had we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young for them. Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I came to seek you both. Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholly, and would fain have it beaten away: wilt thou use thy wit? Bene. It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it? Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us. �Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale: art thou sick or angry ? Claud. What! courage, man: what tho' care kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if you charge it against me.— I pray you, chuse another subject. 472 Claud. Nay, then give him another staff; this last was broke cross. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more: I think, he be angry, indeed. Claud, If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear? Claud. God bless me from a challenge! Bene. You are a villain; I jest not. I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardise. You have kill'd a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. �Pedro. What, a feast? Claud. I' faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calves-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say, my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. Pedro. I'll tell thee, how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day : I said, thou hadst a line wit; right, says she, a fine little one; no, faid I, a great wit; just, said she, a great gross one; nay, faid I, a good wit ; just, said she, it hurts no body; nay, said I, the gentleman is wise; certain, said she, a wise gentleman; nay, said I, he hath the tongues; that I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two tongues. Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she con- eluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said she car'd not. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly; the old man's daughter told us all. Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden. �473 Pedro. But when shall we set the salvage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head? Claud. Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the married man. Bene. Fare you well, boy, you know my mind; I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thank'd, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you; I must discontinue your company; your brother the bastard is sled from Messina; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my lord lack-beard there, he and I shall meet; and 'till then, peace be with him. [Exit Benedick. Pedro. He is in earnest. Claud. In most profound earnest, and, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee ? Claud. Most sincerely. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit! Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded. �Claud. He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. Pedro. But, soft you, let me see, pluck up my heart and be sad; did he not say, my brother was fled? Dogb. Come you, Sir, if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio, one? Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done? Dogb. Marry, Sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have bely'd a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves. 474 Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and to conclude, what you lay to their charge? Claud. Rightly reason'd, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. �Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence? Bora. Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this Count kill me: I have deceiv'd even your very eyes; what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incens'd me to slander the lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgrac'd her, when you should marry her; my villany they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my shame; the Lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation; and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? Claud. I have drunk poison, while he utter'd it. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this? Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery; And sled he is upon this villany. �Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs; by this time our Sexton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the matter, and masters, do not forget to specifie, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. Verg. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato; and the Sexton too. 475 Enter Leonato, and Sexton. Leon. Which is the villain? let me see his eyes; That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him; which of these is he ? Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me. Leon. Art thou, art thou the slave, that with thy breath Has kill'd mine innocent child ? Bora. Yea, even I alone. Leon. No, not so, villain ; thou bely'st: thy self; Here stand a pair of honourable men, A third is fled, that had a hand in it : I thank you, Princes, for my daughter's death; Record it with your high and worthy deeds; 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. �Claud. I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speak: chuse your revenge your self, Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking. Pedro. By my soul, nor I; And yet to satisfie this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight, That he'll enjoyn me to. Leon. You cannot bid my daughter live again, That were impossible; but, I pray you both, Possess the People in Messina here How innocent she dy'd; and if your love Can labour ought in sad invention; Hang her an Epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones, sing it to night: To morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that's dead, And she alone is heir to both of us; Give her the Right you should have given her Cousin, And so dies my revenge. 476 Claud. O noble Sir! Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me: I do embrace your offer; and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. �Leon. To morrow then I will expect your Coming, To night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother. Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me. But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her. Dogb. Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembred in his punishment and also the watch heard them 477 talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's fake. Pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. Dogb. Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy pains. �Dogb. God save the foundation! Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner; and I thank thee. Dogb. I leave an errant knave with your Worship, which, I beseech your Worship, to correct your self, for the example of others. God keep your Worship; I with your Worship well: God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. Come, neighbour. [Exeunt. Leon. Until to morrow morning, Lords, farewel. Ant. Farewel, my Lords; we look for you to morrow. Pedro. We will not fail. Claud. To night I'll mourn with Hero. Leon. Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt severally. SCENE changes to Leonato's House. Enter Benedick, and Margaret. Bene. PRAY thee, sweet mistress Margaret , deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the �speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty ? Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deserved it. 478 Marg. To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep above stairs? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's soils, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers. Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them, Margaret,you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. [Exit Margaret. �Bene. And therefore will come. [Sings] The God of love, that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, — I mean, in singing; but in loving, Lander the good swimmer, Troilus the first: employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse; why, they were never so truly turn'd over and over, as my poor self in love; marry, I cannot shew it in rhime; I have try'd; I can find out no rhime to lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for scorn, horn,a hard rhime; for school, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, would'nt thou come when I call thee? 479 Beat. Yea, Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O,stay but 'till then. Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath past between you and Claudio. Bene. Only soul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. ' Beat. Soul words are but soul wind, and soul wind �is but soul breath, and soul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of its right sense, so forcible is thy wit; but, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward; and, I pray thee, now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first sufFer love for me? Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet j I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In spight of your heart, I think; alas ! poor heart, if you spight it for my fake, I will spight it for yours; for I will never love that, which my friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wife to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confession; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps. �Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question? — why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the wife, if Don worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to my self; so much for prais- 480 ing my self; who, I my self will bear witness, is praise- worthy; and now tell me, how doth your Cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. Bene, Serve God, love me, and mend there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula. Ursu. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home ; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd; and Don John is the author of all, who is fed and gone : will you come presently ? Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior? �Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy heart; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle, [Exeunt. SCENE changes to a Church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers, Claud. IS this the monument of Leonato? Atten. It is, my lord. EPITAPH. Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero, that here lyes: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life, that dy'd with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. Claud. Now musick sound, and sing your solemn hymn. 481 SONG. Pardon, Goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight; For the which with songs of woe, �Round about her tomb they go. Midnight, assist our moan; Help us to sigh and groan Heavily, heavily: Graves, yawn and yield your dead, 'Till death be uttered, Heavily, heavily. Claud. Now unto thy bones good night; Yearly will I do this Rite. Pedro. Good morrow, masters, put your torches out, The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie east with spots of grey; Thanks to you all, and leave us , fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt. 482 SCENE changes to Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero. �Friar. DID I not tell you, she was innocent? Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her, Upon the error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some fault for this; Although against her will, as it appears, In the true course of all the question. Ant. Well; I am glad, that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well, Daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by your selves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd : The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit me; you know your office, brother, You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirmed countenance. Bene. Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, Signior? Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them : Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis mod true. �Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The fight whereos, I think, you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will? Bene. Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical; But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd I' th' state of honourable marriage; In which, good Friar, I shall desire your help. 483 Leon. My heart is with your liking. Friar. And my help. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, Prince , good morrow, Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To day to marry with my brother's daughter? Claud. I'll hold my mind, were the an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready. [Exit Antonio. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the �matter, That you have such a February-face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness ? Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull: tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee; As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow; And got a calf, in that same noble feat, Much like to you; for you have just his bleat. Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula, mask'd. Claud. For this I owe you; here come other reck- nings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? Anto. This fame is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine: Sweet, let me see your face. Leon. No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand Before this Friar, and swear to marry her. 484 �Claud. Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband if you like of me. Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife. [Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero? Hero. Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live; And, surely, as I live, I am a maid. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead! Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. Friar. All this amazement can I qualifie. When, after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death : Mean time let wonder seem familiar, And to the chappel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that name; what is your will? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. Why, no; no more than reason. �Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did. Beat. Do not you love me? Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason. Beat. Why, then my Cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, Have been deceiv'd ; for they did swear, you did. Bene. They swore, you were almost sick for me. Beat. They swore, you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence. 485 Leon. Come, Cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. Hero. And here's another, Writ in my Cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I �take thee for pity. Beat.I would yet deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life;for as I was told, you were in a consumption. Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.--- [Kissing her. 486 Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of wittcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee ; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin. Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look �exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends; let's have a Dance ere we are marry 'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. 487 Enter Messenger. Mess. My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him 'till to morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers. [Dance. [Exeunt omnes. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Theobald, 1733) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Lewis Theobald Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat gondozott átirata Theobald jegyzetei nélkül Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksofshakespe01shak Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1733 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Lewis Theobald (szerkesztő) Papp Gréta (digitális átirat gondozása) Dobos Bence (digitális átirat gondozása) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv pdf Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Digitális szöveg Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. THE / WORKS / OF / SHAKESPEARE: / IN / SEVEN VOLUMES. / Collated with the Olde∫t Copies, and Corrected; / With NOTES, Explanatory, and Critical: / By Mr. THEOBALD. / I, Decus, i, no∫trum: melioribus utere Fatis. Virg. / LONDON: / Printed for A. BETTESWORTH and C. HITCH, J TONSON, F. CLAY, W. FEALES, / and R. WELLINGTON. / MDCCXXXIII. / VOLUME the FIRST. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Lewis Theobald Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1733 First Page 401 Genre Komédia Language angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 84 Number of Volumes 1 Pages 401-487 Place London Publisher Bettesworth, A., Hitch, C., T. Tonson, J., Clay, F., Feales, W., Wellington, R Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Volume 1 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/34dc641e2e0998956a8863ad919bcc8a.jpg 942f445799952d4961cf06ab8eb97620 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Moving Image A series of visual representations imparting an impression of motion when shown in succession. Examples include animations, movies, television programs, videos, zoetropes, or visual output from a simulation. 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Title A name given to the resource Sok hűhó semmiért Description An account of the resource Shakespeare: Sok hűhó semmiért Vígszínház: 2007 November 22 Claudio: Szőcs Artur, Benedetto: Kamarás Iván, Galagonya: Reviczky Gábor, Bunkós: Kállai Ferenc, Hero:Kéri Kitty, Beatricee: Hegyi Barbara, Margit: Hullan Zsuzsa Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2015-02-01T15:24:33.000Z Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived http://YouTube.com Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="https://www.youtube.com/static?template=terms">Standard YouTube License</a> License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/static?template=terms">Standard YouTube License</a> Date Submitted Date of submission of the resource. Examples of resources to which a Date Submitted may be relevant are a thesis (submitted to a university department) or an article (submitted to a journal). 2015-02-01T15:24:33.000Z Theatre (TV Genre https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/d910fb4d4edda247877f507bcce4fc51.pdf 377126428a607b3ff333988bc4e2657f PDF Text Text SOK HŰHÓ SEMMIÉRT Fordította: Mészöly Dezső (1980) ELSŐ FELVONÁS 1. szín Leonato háza előtt. Jön Leonato, Messina kormányzója, Hero, a leánya és Beatrice, az unokahúga - egy követtel LEONATO Úgy értesültem a levélből, hogy Don Pedro, Aragónia hercege, ma este Messinába érkezik! KÖVET Már közel járhat. Három mérföldnyire se volt innen, mikor előreküldött. LEONATO Hány nemest vesztettetek a csatában? KÖVET Alig valakit. Nevezetes személyt, senkit. LEONATO Kétszeres a diadal, ha a vezér ép sereggel tér meg. Úgy látom, Don Pedro igen kitüntetett egy firenzei ifjút, bizonyos Claudiót. KÖVET Igen kitüntette, mert igen rászolgált. Derekabbul vitézkedett, mint zsenge kora ígérte: bárány képében oroszlánként küzdött. Úgy túltett ő minden reményen, hogy énnekem semmi reményem túltenni rajta szavaimmal. �LEONATO Él itt egy nagybátyja Messinában: az megörül ám majd ezen! KÖVET Már vittem neki jelentést. Olyan túlcsorduló öröm tört ki belőle, hogy csupa szerénységből is illett néhány keserűbb cseppet vegyítenie hozzá. LEONATO Könnye hullott? KÖVET Mint a zápor! LEONATO Kedves előttem a túláradó kedvesség. Nincs tisztább a könnyek mosta arcnál. Mennyivel jobb, aki örömében könnyet ejt, mint aki örvend a más könnyén! BEATRICE Mondd, kérlek, signor Handabanda is megjött a háborúból?... vagy nem? KÖVET Senkit sem ismerek ezen a néven, hölgyem. Efféle nem is akadt a seregben. LEONATO Ki után kérdezősködsz, húgom? HERO Kuzinom a padovai úrra gondol, signor Benedettóra. KÖVET Á! Ő megjött, és vidámabb, mint valaha. �BEATRICE Kiíratta itt Messinában, hogy kihívja Cupidót galamblövő versenyre. Bátyám udvari bolondja elolvasta a kihívást, és válaszolt neki Cupido nevében, hogy vállalja a versenyt, mert ő bizony telibe találja a tubicáját. - Mondd csak, hány embert ölt és evett meg Benedetto ebben a háborúban?... No, hányat ölt meg? Mert én megígértem neki, hogy ahányat csak megöl, azt én mind megeszem. LEONATO Esküszöm, húgom, jól fölmagasztalod ezt a signor Benedettót! De majd megkapod a magadét te is tőle, semmi kétség! KÖVET Jó szolgálatot tett ő ebben a háborúban, kisasszonyom. BEATRICE Nyilván kezdett áporodni az élelem, s ő segített fölfalni. Rettenthetetlen hústrancsírozó: feneketlen a bendője. KÖVET De férfi is a talpán, kisasszonyom. BEATRICE Ha csak a talpán férfi, akkor a kisasszonyokkal nem sokra megy. Hát a lovagokkal elbánik-e ez a talpas? KÖVET Lovagokkal lovagias, emberekkel emberséges. Ő maga a tömény erény. BEATRICE Az ám, ha a tömés - erény. De legalább volna kemény... Jó, jó, mind halandók vagyunk. LEONATO �Félre ne értsd húgomat, vitéz. Afféle tréfás háborúsdi folyik közte meg signor Benedetto közt. Ahányszor csak találkoznak, kezdődik a sziporkapárbaj. BEATRICE De jaj neki, mert mindig rajtaveszt. Múltkor is, hogy összecsaptunk, öt petárdája közül négy csütörtököt mondott, úgyhogy szegény fejének csak egy maradt. Ha az az egy még fellobban, kapva-kapjon rajta, mert különben ő sem lesz nagyobb lángelme a lovánál. Egyéb sütnivalója sem maradt azon az egy szem petárdáján kívül. - Ki most a cimborája? Havonta köt új örök barátságot. KÖVET Lehetséges volna?... BEATRICE De mennyire! Annyit ér az eskü nála, mint egy kalap: a divat szerint váltogatja. KÖVET Úgy látom, kisasszonyom, hogy ez a nemesúr nem szerepel a táncrendeden. BEATRICE Tűzre is vetném azt, ha szerepelne rajta! De mondd, ki a barátja? Nem akadt valami kalandor fickó útitársnak, hogy vele együtt menjen a pokolba? KÖVET Legtöbbször a nemes Claudióval tart. BEATRICE Úristen! még ráragad, mint valami kórság! Mert ragadósabb ő, mint a pestis. S aki megkapja, az belébolondul. Isten óvja a nemes Claudiót! Ha egyszer ráragad Benedetto, ezer forintjába kerül, míg kikúráltatja magát. KÖVET Rajta leszek, hogy magamra ne haragítsalak, hölgyem! �BEATRICE Jól teszed, barátom. LEONATO Te ugyan nem bolondulsz belé, húgom! BEATRICE Nem én, míg kánikula nem lesz januárban. KÖVET Don Pedro közeleg! Jön Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedetto, Baltazár és Don Juan, a fattyú DON PEDRO Jó signor Leonato, így fogadod a gondot? Mindenki a világon kerülni igyekszik a költséget, te pedig elébe jössz! LEONATO Tefenséged képében nem a gond látogat el házunkba. Mert mikor a gond távozik, öröm marad a nyomában. De ha majd tefenséged válik meg tőlünk, bánat köszönt be, és az öröm vonul el. DON PEDRO Túlontúl készségesen veszi magára terhét tekegyelmed. - Leányod, ha nem tévedek? LEONATO Anyja kitartóan mondogatta, hogy az. BENEDETTO Kételkedtél benne, uram, hogy rákérdeztél? �LEONATO Nem, signor Benedetto - mert tekegyelmed akkoriban még gyermek volt. DON PEDRO Ezt megkaptad, Benedetto. Ebből sejthetjük, mire vitted embernyi ember korodban. Meg kell adni: apja lánya a kisasszony! Örülj neki, kisasszonyom: derék apára ütöttél! BENEDETTO Ha signor Leonato az apja, akkor - akárhogy üt is rá - nem cserélne vele fejet egész Messináért sem! BEATRICE Csodálom, hogy még most is jár a szád, signor Benedetto, mikor senki sem figyel rád. BENEDETTO Ni csak, a megtestesült utálat - szoknyában! Hát kegyed még él? BEATRICE Elhunyhat-e az utálat, mikor olyan tápot kap, mint signor Benedetto? Hisz maga az imádat is utálatba fordul át uraságod bűvkörében! BENEDETTO Úgy látszik, az imádat köpönyegforgató. De annyi bizonyos, hogy - kegyedet kivéve - minden hölgy szeret. Kívánnám, bár volna a mellemben kő szív helyett hő szív - mert, szavamra, engem egy se érdekel. BEATRICE Jó szerencse ez a nőkre, mert különben folyton nyaggatná őket egy veszett nőbolond. Hála Istennek - és hideg véremnek -, ebben történetesen megegyezünk. Ha varjút ugat meg a kutyám, azt is szívesebben hallgatom, mint azt, ha férfi szerelmet vall. BENEDETTO �Isten tartsa meg kegyedet ebben a hajlandóságában, mert így legalább egyik-másik úrfi megmenekül az összekarmolt orca végzetétől. BEATRICE A karmolás se csúfíthatná már tovább orcájukat, feltéve, hogy uraságodhoz hasonlítanak. BENEDETTO Kiválóan taníthatnád nyelvelni a papagájt. BEATRICE Többet ér egy madár az én nyelvemmel, mint egy barom a tiéddel. BENEDETTO Bár a paripám volna olyan szilaj és oly kitartó, mint a nyelved! No, Isten hírivel - én végeztem. BEATRICE Farol a paripád - mindig ez a vége. Ismerlek én régről! DON PEDRO Ez a summája, signor Leonato! (Megfordul) Signor Claudio - és signor Benedetto! Drága barátom, Leonato, mindnyájunkat szívesen lát! Mondom neki, hogy legalább egy hónapig itt állomásozunk. Erre ő azért imádkozik, bár tartana itt bennünket valami véletlen eset még tovább! S esküdni mernék, nem színből: szívből könyörög. LEONATO S ha megesküszöl rá: nem terhel hamis eskü. (Don Juanhoz) Isten hozott téged is, uram; most, hogy megbékültél bátyáddal, a herceggel - köszöntlek teljes tisztelettel! DON JUAN Köszönöm. Nem vagyok a szavak embere, de köszönöm. LEONATO �Erre parancsoljon fenséged. DON PEDRO Kezed, Leonato! Együtt menjünk! Mind el, kivéve Benedettót és Claudiót CLAUDIO Benedetto! Figyelted signor Leonato lányát? BENEDETTO Nem figyeltem, de láttam. CLAUDIO Hát nem illedelmes kisasszony? BENEDETTO Az együgyű, jámbor véleményem tudakolod - mint afféle tisztességtudó férfiú - vagy azt akarod, hogy szokásom szerint beszéljek, mint esküdt nőgyűlölő? CLAUDIO Nem! Azt akarom, hogy komolyan mondd meg a véleményedet. BENEDETTO Nos... szavamra... a magasztos bókra alacsony, a ragyogó bókra sötét, a hatalmas bókra kicsike. Annyit azért meg kell adni, hogy ha másmilyen volna, mint amilyen, egy csöppet se volna tetszetős, de mivel olyan, amilyen: úgy tetszik, nem tetszik. CLAUDIO Azt hiszed, tréfálok, Kérlek, mondd meg komolyan, hogy milyennek tartod. BENEDETTO �Meg akarod venni, hogy így firtatod, mire tartják? CLAUDIO Hát meg lehet venni ilyen drága gyöngyöt - akár az egész nagyvilágért? BENEDETTO Meg hát - a tokjával együtt, hogy legyen mibe dugni. De komolyan beszélsz, vagy csak úgy locsogsz, mint amikor a bolond zagyvál, hogy Cupido kocavadász, s Vulcanus az ácsok gyöngye... Halljam, milyen kulcsra jár az eszed tokja! CLAUDIO Ő a legédesebb kisasszony, aki valaha is a szemem elé került! BENEDETTO Nekem se kell hozzá még pápaszem, de semmi különöset se látok rajta. Ott a másik, a kuzinja... ha az nem volna olyan veszett, annyival kívánatosabb volna nála, mint május elseje december végénél! De remélem, nem akarod nősülésre adni a fejed... vagy igen? CLAUDIO Ha nőtlenséget fogadtam volna, akkor sem állnék jót magamért, mihelyt Herót kaphatnám feleségül! BENEDETTO Hát ennyire vagyunk? Hát nem marad már egyetlen sipka alatt se fölszarvazatlan férfihomlok? És sose találkozom többet hatvanéves legényemberrel? Hát csak rajta, ha mindenáron igába akarod hajtani a nyakad: viseld el a súlyát, és sóhajtozz vasárnaponként. Don Pedro ismét a kertbe lép Ni, Don Pedro keres megint! DON PEDRO Hát titeket miféle titok tartott itt, hogy nem jöttetek Leonatóhoz? �BENEDETTO Bár kényszeríthetnél, fenség, hogy feleljek! DON PEDRO Hűségesküdre - megparancsolom! BENEDETTO Hallod ezt, Claudio gróf? Tudok én titkot tartani, mint a néma, elhiheted... De ha a hűségesküm forog kockán, hallod, a hűségesküm... - Hát szerelmes a fiú! Hogy ki a szerelme, azt kérded, fenség? Lásd milyen kurta a válasz! Leonato kurta lánya: Hero. CLAUDIO Ha úgy van, ki is mondom kereken. BENEDETTO Kereken ám, mint a mesemondók, hogy: "Hol volt, hol nem volt, volt egyszer valaha valahol" - de Isten ments, hogy úgy legyen! CLAUDIO Ha a tüzem nem szalmaláng: Isten ments, hogy másképp legyen! DON PEDRO Ámen, ha szereted, mert igazán szeretni való kisasszony. CLAUDIO Fenség, csak azért mondod, hogy szóra bírj. DON PEDRO Szavamra: őszintén. CLAUDIO �Hitemre: én szintén őszintén szóltam. BENEDETTO Ő szintén s én szintén őszintén - mindkét hitemre és szavamra! CLAUDIO Hogy szeretem, érzem. DON PEDRO Hogy szeretnivaló, tudom. BENEDETTO Én meg se nem érzem, se nem tudom, hogy szeretnivaló - de ez oly mély hitem, hogy a tűz se olvaszthatja ki belőlem: vallom a máglyán is! DON PEDRO Mindig nyakas eretnek voltál: szépségtagadó! CLAUDIO És csak megátalkodott nyakasságának köszönheti, hogy sohasem esett ki szerepéből. BENEDETTO Hogy egy nőben megfogantam - köszönöm neki; hogy fölnevelt - azt is alázatosan köszönöm; de hogy nem óhajtok holmi csecsebecséket srófoltatni a homlokomra, s nem vagyok hajlandó láthatatlan szarvacskákat viselni - ezt minden nő meg fogja bocsátani nekem. Mivel egy nőt nem akarok megsérteni azzal, hogy kételkedem benne, megkívánom, hogy valamennyi iránt bizalmatlan lehessek. Összegezem - s leszegezem: legényember maradok. DON PEDRO Nem halok meg, míg nem látlak sápadozni a szerelemtől! BENEDETTO �Méregtől, kórságtól, éhségtől bármikor, fenség, de szerelemtől soha! Ha rajtakapsz, hogy több vért vesztek szerelemben, mint amennyit pótolok itallal: szúrd ki a szemem egy balladaköltő pennájával, s akassz ki cégérnek a vak Cupido helyett a kupi kapujára! DON PEDRO Jó, de ha egyszer ezt a fogadalmad megszeged: az lesz ám csak intő példa! BENEDETTO Ha úgy esnék: akasszatok ki, mint a zsákba dugott macskát, lőjetek rám célba, s aki eltalál, azt üssétek lovaggá és mesterlövésszé! DON PEDRO Idő kell hozzá. Ahogy a költő mondja: "Idő kell, hogy a bika hámba törjön." BENEDETTO A bika tán igen - de hogy a józan Benedetto... Hát ha az egyszer fölveszi a jármot, akkor csavarjátok ki a bika szarvát, és srófoljátok az én homlokomra! Aztán akár pingáljátok meg a képemet, s írjátok rá olyan nagy betűkkel, mint a hirdetőtáblára, csak épp nem azt, hogy: "Itt jó hátasló bérelhető", hanem azt, hogy: "Itt látható Benedetto mint házasember!" CLAUDIO Ha így fordul: szarvasmarha leszel! DON PEDRO Az ám: ha Cupido el nem lőtte minden nyilát Velencében, megreszkettet még téged is! BENEDETTO De akkor abba a föld is belereszket! DON PEDRO No, no, ami késik, nem múlik! De addig is, jó signor Benedetto, keresd föl Leonatót, mondd neki, hogy ajánlom magamat jóindulatába, s ott leszek a vacsoráján, mert tudom, milyen nagy készülettel vár. �BENEDETTO Van annyi eszem, hogy vállaljam a követséget, ajánlom hát fenségedet... CLAUDIO ..."Isten oltalmába! Kelt saját házamban - ha ugyan van házam..." DON PEDRO ..."Bolondok ünnepén, Szent Iván napján - szerető barátod: Benedetto." BENEDETTO Ne, ne, csak ne csúfolódjatok! Se füle, se farka az ilyen beszédnek! Nem ártana magatokba szállni, mielőtt ilyen szedett-vedett tréfákkal álltok elő! Megyek innen! (Távozik) CLAUDIO Fenség - nagy jót tehetnél most velem. DON PEDRO Jóindulatunk éberen figyel: Nehéz leckét is eltűr, hogy megértse, Mi módon szolgálhatná javadat. CLAUDIO Fenség - van Leonatónak fia? DON PEDRO Csak lánya: Hero. Ő az örökös. Szereted őt, Claudio? CLAUDIO Uram, �Nem régen még, a hadjárat előtt, Katona módra vettem csak szemügyre: Tetszett; de más, keményebb próba várt, S így szerelemmé nem virult a hajlam. De most, hogy visszatértem, itt belül, A harci gondok megürült helyén Halk és finom vágyak zsibonganak, S azt súgják mind, hogy szép a zsenge Hero, S azt, hogy - szerettem már a harc előtt is! DON PEDRO Mindjárt úgy ömlengsz, mint a sok szerelmes, Fülünk gyötörve egy kötetnyi szóval! Ha szereted a szép lányt: udvarold! Szót értek majd vele, s apjával is: Tiéd lesz Hero! Vagy nem azt akartad, Mikor cifrázni kezdted a beszédet? CLAUDIO Mily könnyen segít szerelmes bajon, Ki már jelekből is felismeri! Féltem, hogy vágyam mohónak találod, Azért nyújtottam úgy a vallomást. DON PEDRO Mért nyúljon a híd tovább, mint a túlpart? Segélyre legtisztább jogcím: a szükség. Az illik, ami használ. Vágy emészt? Nos, akkor én bajodra szerzek írt! Tudom, hogy itt ma éjjel maszkabál lesz. �Én majd jelmezben téged játszalak, S a szép Herónak, mint Claudio, Nagy lendülettel kiöntöm szivem: Szerelmes szavak szilaj rohamával Rabommá teszem hallgató fülét! Aztán beszélek majd apjával is, S a vége az lesz, hogy - tiéd a lány. Most melegében lássunk is neki! Távoznak 2. szín Terem Leonato házában. Jön, kétfelől, Leonato és bátyja, Antonio LEONATO Csakhogy látlak, testvér! Hol a fiad, az én kedves öcsém? Ő szerezte ezeket a muzsikusokat? ANTONIO Ő hát, s milyen gonddal! De öcsém, olyan újságot tudok, hogy nem is álmodod! LEONATO Jó újság? ANTONIO Majd elválik, milyen pecsétet üt rá a holnap; de a borítékja mutatós: így kívülről igazán jól fest. Egy emberem kihallgatta a kertben, a sűrű fasorban a herceget meg Claudio grófot. A herceg megvallotta Claudiónak, hogy szereti húgocskámat - a lányodat -, s arra készül, hogy ezt még ma este meg is súgja neki tánc közben... És ha a lány hajlik felé, akkor azon melegében szót ért veled. �LEONATO Értelmes fickó mondta ezt? ANTONIO Szemfüles a fickó. Ide hívatom: faggasd ki magad. LEONATO Nem, nem. Tekintsük álomnak, míg be nem teljesül. De lányomnak megüzenem a dolgot, hogy fölkészüljön a válaszra, ha úgy fordul. Menj és mondd el neki! Antonio távozik, jön fia muzsikusokkal Atyámfiai, tudjátok a dolgotokat! - Ó, megbocsáss, barátom; jöjj velem: ügyességedre szükségem lehet. - Csak rajta, öcsém, sürget az idő! Távoznak 3. szín Leonato házában, a galérián. Jön Don Juan és Corrado CORRADO Mi ütött beléd, uram? Mért vagy olyan mérhetetlenül komor? DON JUAN Mérhetetlen, mennyi okom van rá, azért vagyok határtalanul komor. CORRADO �Hallgass, uram, a józan észre. DON JUAN S ha arra hallgatok, mi jót hoz? CORRADO Ha nem is mindjárt gyógyulást, de legalább türelmet. DON JUAN Csodálom, hogy gyilkos mérget erkölcsi prédikációval akarsz kihajtani, hiszen magad is Saturnus rossz csillaga alatt születtél. Én nem tudok komédiázni. Ha bajom van, komor vagyok: senki fia tréfáján nem mosolygok. Ha éhes vagyok, eszem, nem várok a többiekre. Ha álmos vagyok, alszom, nem törődöm a más dolgával. S akkor nevetek, ha kedvem tartja, nem majmolom senki vidámságát. CORRADO Igen, de kár úgy elárulni mindezt, míg nem vagy minden őrszemtől szabad. Hisz bátyád ellen fölkeltél minap, s nemrég fogadott kegyelmébe vissza. Gyökeret újra itt csak úgy ereszthetsz, ha magad árasztod a napsütést. S fontos, hogy jól válaszd meg idejét tulajdon aratásodnak, signor. DON JUAN Inkább legyek ragya a lombon, mint rózsa az ő kegyelmében! Jobban esik nekem, ha mindenki utál, mintha tettetéssel kell kicsalnom bárki szeretetét. Nem mondható, hogy hízelgő jó ember volnék, de azt senki sem tagadhatja, hogy őszinte gazember vagyok. Szájkosárral tisztelnek meg, és kolonccal engednek szabadon!... Hát én elhatároztam, hogy nem énekelek a kalickámban! Ha kinyitnám a szám, harapnék. Ha szabad volnék: élném világom. De egyelőre hadd legyek, aki vagyok: ne akarj engem kifordítani! CORRADO S mérgednek semmi hasznát nem veszed? DON JUAN Csak annak veszem hasznát; egyebem sincs. �Boracchio jön a galérián Mi hír, Boracchio? BORACCHIO Amonnan jövök, a nagy vacsoráról. Leonato felségesen vendégeli bátyádat, a herceg urat. Még valami házassági tervről is hallottam! DON JUAN Nem lehetne a körül valami hálót szőni? Melyik bolond akarja föláldozni a nyugalmát? BORACCHIO Nem más, mint a bátyád jobb keze. DON JUAN Kicsoda? A nagyszerű Claudio? BORACCHIO Ő bizony. DON JUAN Az aztán a legény a gáton! S ki a lány? Kin akadt meg a szeme? BORACCHIO Szavamra, Herón, Leonato leányán s örökösén! DON JUAN Jól fejlett márciusi jérce! S hogy szagoltad ezt ki? BORACCHIO �Rám bízták az illatfüstölést. Hát ahogy egy fülledt szobát kezdek illatosítani, egyszer csak jön ám a herceg Claudióval karonfogva s nagy komolyan beszélgetve. Besurrantam a kárpit mögé, s hallottam, amint megegyeznek, hogy a herceg megkéri magának Herót, s ha megkapja, átadja Claudio grófnak. DON JUAN Gyerünk, gyerünk oda! Hátha ott jóllakathatom a rossz kedvemet? Ez a fölkapaszkodott ifjonc az én bukásom árán diadalmaskodik. Ha gáncsot vethetek neki akármiben, az nekem csupa öröm. Bízhatom a segítségetekben? CORRADO Mindhalálig, uram! DON JUAN Gyerünk arra a nagy lakomára! Annál inkább vigadnak, mert fölém kerekedtek. Bár a szakács az én hívem volna! Nos, megyünk, megnézzük, mit tehetünk. BORACCHIO Veled tartunk, uram! Távoznak MÁSODIK FELVONÁS 1. szín Leonato házában. Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaréta, Ursula és mások jönnek LEONATO Don Juan nem volt itt a vacsorán? �ANTONIO Nem láttam. BEATRICE Micsoda savanyú képe van annak az úrnak! Ha ránézek, még egy óra múlva is ég tőle a gyomrom. HERO Roppant fanyar természet. BEATRICE Az volna remek férfi, aki félúton állna meg közte és Benedetto között. Az egyik olyan, mint a faszent: meg se mukkan. A másik meg folyton csörög, mint a bábaszarka. LEONATO Akkor hát Benedetto fele nyelvét Don Juan szájába - és Don Juan fele fanyarságát Benedetto képére! BEATRICE De legyen hozzá jó combja és jó lába is, bátyám - s a zacskójában pénz elég! Ilyen férfi bármelyik nő fejét eltekeri - feltéve, hogy ért a tekeréshez. LEONATO Hitemre, húgom, sohasem kapsz férjet, ha ilyen éles marad a nyelved. ANTONIO Meg kell adni, igen hamis! BEATRICE "Igen hamis" - ez több, mint hamis. Akkor én végképp elesem Isten adományától. Mert azt tartja a szólás: "Hamis tehénnek kis szarvat ad az Isten" - de hát akkor az igen hamisnak semmi szarvat se ad. �LEONATO Egyszóval, ha ilyen hamis maradsz, akkor nálad szarvról szó sem lehet. BEATRICE Nem hát - míg az Isten férjet nem ad. Ezért az áldásért imádkozom hozzá térden állva reggeleste. Úristen! el nem tudnék viselni egy szakállas pofájú férjet - inkább hálnék szőrpokrócon! LEONATO Kaphatsz férjet szakáll nélkül is. BEATRICE Azzal meg mit kezdjek? Szoknyát adjak rá, s komornámnak szerződtessem? Akinek szakálla van, az már nem fiatalember; akinek meg nincs szakálla, az még nem férfi. Aki már nem fiatalember, az nem való hozzám; aki pedig még nem férfi, ahhoz én nem vagyok való. Azért hát én inkább majmot hordok a karomon ujjaszopcsi pulya helyett - még a pokolban is! LEONATO Hát a pokolba mégy? BEATRICE No nem, csak a kapujáig. Ott elébem áll az ördög, mint valami fölszarvazott öreg férj, s azt mondja: "Menj innen a mennybe, Beatrice, menj a mennybe, lányoknak itt nincs hely!" Fogom hát a majmom, viszem föl a mennybe Szent Péterhez, az megmutatja, hol ülnek az agglegények, s ott élünk vidáman, míg a világ világ! ANTONIO (Heróhoz) Jól van, húgom, bízom benne, hogy te majd apádra hallgatsz. BEATRICE (Heróhoz) �Persze, kuzinomnak szent kötelessége, hogy bókot vágjon ki, s azt mondja: "Ahogy neked tetszik, papa!" De legalább csinos legyen az a fiú, kuzinom! Vagy ha nem, hát vágj ki még egy bókot, s mondd azt: "Ahogy nekem tetszik, papa!" LEONATO Jó, jó, húgom, remélem, meglátlak még férjed karján. BEATRICE Azt nem, amíg az Isten jobb anyagból nem gyúrja az embert, mint földből. Hát nem szörnyű sors a nőnek, hogy egy marék pöffeszkedő por dirigáljon felette? Vagy élete fogytáig egy hepciáskodó sárcsomóhoz legyen kötve? Nem, bátyám, ebből nem kérek! Ádám fiai testvéreim, s vérbűn lenne véreimmel házasságra lépni! LEONATO (Heróhoz) Ne feledd, mit mondtam, leányom. Ha a herceg megkérne, tudod, mit kell válaszolnod. BEATRICE Mindent a zenére háríts, kuzin, ha nem jókor hangzik el a vallomás. Ha a herceg nagyon mohó, figyelmeztesd, hogy tartsa a taktust, s táncolva térj ki a válasz elől. Ide figyelj, Hero: az udvarlás, a házasság, a megbánás sora olyan, mint a bálban a kuferces, a palotás, a kopogós. Az első vallomás forró, heves, mint a kuferces, csupa vad tombolás; a házasság illedelmes, mint a palotás, csupa méltóság és hagyomány; aztán eljön a megbánás, mankón, kipegvekopogva egyre gyorsabban, gyorsabban, míg csak a sírba nem bukik. LEONATO Igen szúrós szemmel nézed te a világot, húgom. BEATRICE Jó szemem van, bátyám: meglátom én napvilágnál, hol vezet az út az oltár felé. LEONATO Jönnek a maszkák, bátyám! Csinálj nekik helyet! �Leonato és társasága álarcot tesz fel. Don Juan, Claudio, Benedetto, Baltazár, Don Pedro, Boracchio, Margaréta, Ursula és mások jönnek álarcosan DON PEDRO Sétálnál egyet hódolóddal, hölgyem? HERO Ha finoman lépsz, kedvesen nézel, és egy szót sem szólsz: szívesen sétálok - sőt odébb sétálok. DON PEDRO Velem együtt? HERO Úgy is mondhatom, ha tetszik. DON PEDRO S mikor tetszik úgy? HERO Majd, ha kitetszik a képed; mert Isten ments, hogy olyan legyen a lant, mint a tokja! DON PEDRO Olyan a maszkom, mint Philemon kunyhója: Jupiter húzódik meg fedele alatt. HERO Akkor szalma... DON PEDRO Csitt, halkan, ha szerelemről beszélsz! �Odébb sétálnak BORACCHIO Szeretném, ha szeretnél. MARGARÉTA Én nem szeretném - a te érdekedben nem, mert sok rossz rigolyám van. BORACCHIO Például? MARGARÉTA Hangosan imádkozom. BORACCHIO Annál jobban szeretlek. Majd a hívek mondják rá az áment. MARGARÉTA Bár adna Isten egy jó táncost! BORACCHIO Ámen! MARGARÉTA S menne már innen Isten hírével, mihelyt vége a táncnak! Ministránsom, felelj! BORACCHIO Egy szót se többet... a ministráns megkapta a magáét. Odébb sétálnak �URSULA Megismerlek ám! Signor Antonio! ANTONIO Szavamra: nem! URSULA Megismerlek a reszketős fejedről! ANTONIO Igaz szavamra: csak utánzom. URSULA Nem tudnád ilyen fényesen utánozni az árnyoldalait, ha nem ő maga volnál! Ez az ő aszott keze... Az vagy, az vagy! ANTONIO Szavamra: nem! URSULA Ugyan, ugyan, azt hiszed, nem ismertelek föl a ragyogó eszedről? Elrejtheti magát a tehetség? Hallgass, te vagy az! Átüt a nemesség mindenen - punktum. Odébb sétálnak BEATRICE Nem árulnád el, ki mondta ezt rólam? BENEDETTO Azt nem, már megbocsáss... �BEATRICE Azt sem árulod el, ki vagy? BENEDETTO Most nem. BEATRICE Fölényes vagyok?... És a Dekameronból szedegetem a jó mondásaimat?... Hát ezt signor Benedetto mondta! BENEDETTO Az kicsoda? BEATRICE Tudom bizonyosan, hogy jól ismered. BENEDETTO Én ugyan nem, elhiheted. BEATRICE Még sose nevettetett meg? BENEDETTO De hát ki az? BEATRICE A herceg bohóca! Ócska egy bolond! Egyebet se tud kitalálni, mint képtelen rágalmakat. Csak holmi korhelyek mulatnak rajta. Nem a szellemessége ragad el, hanem a gorombasága. Tetszik is, bosszant is. Megnevetik és megvesszőzik. Bizonyos, hogy itt kering valahol... Nem bánnám, ha nálam kötne ki. �BENEDETTO Ha megismerem azt az urat, elárulom neki, mit mondtál. BEATRICE Csak rajta, rajta! Majd kivág rólam egy-két hasonlatot - s ha netán rá se hederítenek, meg se vigyorogják, mindjárt búskomorságba esik: akkor egy fogolyszárny ott marad a tálon, mert a bolond azeste nem vacsorázik. - Kövessük a táncosokat! BENEDETTO ...Minden jóban! BEATRICE Ha rosszban sántikálnak, faképnél hagyom őket a következő fordulónál. Tánc. Utána mindenki elvonul a lakomára, kivéve Don Juant, Boracchiót és Claudiót DON JUAN (hangosan) A bátyám nyilván szerelmes Heróba, s azért vonult el a kisasszony apjával, hogy szót értsen vele. (Halkan) A hölgyek mennek Hero után... Csak egy álarcos maradt itt. BORACCHIO Az Claudio! Megismerem a tartásáról. DON JUAN Nem te vagy signor Benedetto? CLAUDIO Jól mondod: az vagyok. DON JUAN �Signor, te közel állsz bátyám szívéhez. Most beleszeretett Heróba. Kérlek, beszéld le róla. Nem illik ez a lány az ő rangjához. Becsületes, jó szolgálatot tennél ezzel. CLAUDIO Honnan tudod, hogy Herót szereti? DON JUAN Hallottam, mikor szerelmet vallott neki. BORACCHIO Én is hallottam. Megesküdött, hogy nászát üli vele még ma este. DON JUAN No, menjünk a vacsorára! Don Juan és Boracchio távozik CLAUDIO Felelgetek nekik, mint Benedetto, S hallom a vészhírt Claudio fülével... Magának kérte meg Herót a herceg! Érvényes a barátság mindenütt Kivéve a szerelmek birodalmát. Minden szerelmes szóljon maga nyelvén, És használja a tulajdon szemét: Ne bízzon másban! Boszorkány a szépség: Varázsától a hűség vérbe fullad. Lám, óránként bebizonyul, hogy így van! Vak voltam. - Ó, Hero, isten veled! Benedetto visszatér �BENEDETTO Claudio gróf? CLAUDIO Az vagyok. BENEDETTO Jössz velem? CLAUDIO Hová? BENEDETTO A legközelebbi szomorúfűzfához, grófom - különös tekintettel a te szerelmi bánatodra. Milyen divat szerint viseled a fűzfakoszorút? Nyakban, mint uzsorás az aranyláncot? Vagy vállon, mint hadnagy a kardszíjat? Mindenképp megillet a szomorúfűz, mert a herceg lecsapta a kezedről Herót. CLAUDIO Teljék benne öröme! BENEDETTO Ezt úgy mondtad, mint egy derék kupec, ha eladta a marhát. - Gondoltad volna, hogy a herceg így végzi el a baráti szolgálatot? CLAUDIO Kérlek, hagyj magamra. BENEDETTO No csak! Most meg úgy teszel, mint az egyszeri vak ember. Egy suttyó lopta el a kolbászt, de te az oszlopot vered érte. �CLAUDIO Ha nem mész, majd itt hagylak én. (Távozik) BENEDETTO Jaj, szegény sebzett madár! Most bújik a nádasba. - De hogy ez a Beatrice kisasszony rám ismert meg nem is... Még hogy én volnék a herceg bohóca! Talán azért hívnak így, mert mindig tréfán jár az eszem. No lám, máris magamban keresem a hibát! Nincs is nekem olyan rossz reputációm, csak ez a Beatrice az egész világ szájába adja a tulajdon ádáz véleményét, s veszett hírem költi! No, majd megfizetek érte, ahogy tudok. Don Pedro, Hero és Leonato visszatér DON PEDRO Á, signor! Hol a gróf, nem láttad? BENEDETTO Láttam bizony, fenség! Az elébb én voltam a hírmondója. Olyan szomorú volt, mint egy magányos vityilló a rengeteg közepén. Mondtam neki - s azt hiszem, igazat szóltam -, hogy fenséged megszerezte attól a kisasszonytól a boldogító igent. Fölajánlottam, hogy elkísérem a szomorúfűzfáig - akár azért, hogy koszorút fonjon, mint cserbenhagyott szerető, akár azért, hogy virgácsot kössön, mert rászolgált a vesszőzésre. DON PEDRO Vesszőzésre? Hát mit vétett? BENEDETTO Csak annyit, mint az iskolás gyerek, aki úgy megörül, mikor madárfészket lel, hogy mindjárt elfecsegi a pajtásának - mire az maga lopja ki a fiókát. DON PEDRO A bizalom nem vétek. A tolvaj a vétkes. BENEDETTO �Mégse veszett kárba az a kirándulás a szomorúfűzhöz. A koszorút viselhette volna maga Claudio; a virgácsot meg átutalhatta volna fenségednek, mert úgy látom, uram, te az ő fészkét kegyeskedtél kifosztani. DON PEDRO Én csak dalolni tanítom a madárfiókát, aztán átadom a tulajdonosának. BENEDETTO Ha a dallam majd simul a szövegedhez, akkor becsülettel szóltál. DON PEDRO Beatrice kisasszonynak panasza van rád. A táncosától azt hallotta, hogy csúnyán rágalmazod. BENEDETTO Ó! Hisz ő bántott meg engem - de úgy ám, hogy azt egy tuskó se bírta volna türelemmel! Egy leveletlen száraz tölgyfa tönkje is fölérzett volna arra! Még ez a kuka maszk a képemen - ez is megéledt, s perbe szállt vele! Azt merte mondani rólam - mert nem ismert föl a maszk alatt -, hogy én a herceg bohóca vagyok, de olyan unalmas, mint a kásás hóolvadás... Egyfolytában csak énrám nyilazott: úgy álltam ott, mint az eleven céltábla, míg egy egész hadsereg lő rája... Minden szava gyilok volt és döfött. Ha olyan pusztító volna a lehelete, mint a beszéde: senki, semmi nem maradna életben előtte - megfertőzne mindent, föl egész a Sarkcsillagig! El nem venném feleségül, ha akár a Paradicsomkertet jussolna is, mint Ádám a bűnbeesés előtt. Hiszen ez a lány rabszolgájává tenné magát Herkulest, hogy nyársat forgasson néki, s a tulajdon bunkóját is tüzelőnek aprítsa föl! Ne is beszéljünk róla! Olyan, mint egy angyalábrázatú pokolbéli fúria. Adná Isten, hogy valami garabonciás diák visszavarázsolja oda, mert - szavamra - amíg köztünk van, addig a pokol olyan nyugalmas hely, mint holmi szentély, s az emberek szántszándékkal vétkeznek, csak hogy elkerüljenek innen az ő fölkavaró, félelmetes, veszedelmes közeléből! Claudio és Beatrice visszatér DON PEDRO Nézd csak, ott jön! BENEDETTO �Nem küldhetne fenséged futárszolgálatban a világ túlsó végére? Indulok én bármilyen kis megbízatással akár a Sarkvidékre. Szerzek egy szál fogpiszkálót Ázsia legtávolibb zugából. Mértéket veszek a szerecsen császár lábáról. Hozok egy szálat a nagy tatár kán szakállából. Vagy elmegyek követségbe a pigmeusokhoz inkább, minthogy csak három szót kelljen váltanom azzal a hárpiával. Nem parancsolsz semmit, uram? DON PEDRO Semmit, csak hogy élvezhessük kedves társaságodat. BENEDETTO Teremtőm! itt az a fogás, amitől én megszököm a lakomáról: "Nyelv, kisasszony módra!" (Távozik) DON PEDRO No, a kisasszony elvesztette signor Benedetto szívét! BEATRICE Csak kölcsönben van nálam a szíve, adtam is rá kamatot: nem volt nagy a kockázat. De esküszöm, Benedetto hamisan kockázott, s visszanyerte. Jól mondod hát, fenség, hogy elvesztettem - úgy kell neki! DON PEDRO Jól leterítetted, kisasszony, jól leterítetted! BEATRICE Jobb így, mintha ő terített volna le, mert akkor egyhamar bolondok anyja lennék. - Itt hozom Claudio grófot, akiért fenséged küldött. DON PEDRO No csak, grófom, miért vagy olyan bánatos? CLAUDIO Nem vagyok én bánatos, uram. �DON PEDRO Hanem? Beteg? CLAUDIO Az sem, uram. BEATRICE A gróf se nem bánatos, se nem beteg, se nem víg, se nem egészséges, csak olyan sárga a féltékenységtől, mint a savanyú narancs. DON PEDRO Találó rajzolat, hitemre! De esküszöm, ha a gróf él a gyanúperrel: téved. - Nos, Claudio, a te nevedben tettem vallomást: a szép Hero tiéd. Apjával is beszéltem, s elnyertem beleegyezését. Tűzd ki az esküvő napját - s adjon Isten boldogságot! LEONATO Grófom, legyen tiéd a lányom s vagyonom. Őfensége intézte ezt a nászt, s a mennyei fenség mondja rá az áment. BEATRICE Beszélj, grófom, rajtad a sor! CLAUDIO Az öröm leghívebb szószólója: a csend. Alig volnék boldog, ha volna rá szavam. Kisasszonyom... amint te az enyém vagy, úgy én is a tiéd. Éretted fölajánlom magamat - s ez a csere: az üdvösségem. BEATRICE Szólalj meg, kuzin, vagy ha nem tudsz: tapaszd be a száját egy csókkal, hogy ő se szólhasson! DON PEDRO No lám, kisasszony, mily vidám szíved van! �BEATRICE Az ám, uram, mert szegény bolond kereket old a gond elől. - Kuzinom most a grófnak a fülébe súgja, hogy szívébe zárta! CLAUDIO Eltaláltad, rokon! BEATRICE Uram Isten, ez beházasodik hozzánk! Lám, mindenki elkél, csak én árulom a petrezselymet. Kiülhetnék már a sarokra elkiáltani, hogy: "Hejhó! Férjet nekem!" DON PEDRO Hallod-e, Beatrice kisasszony, mindjárt előteremtek egy férjet neked is! BEATRICE Inkább atyád teremtett volna elő egyet nekem is! Nincs fenségednek ikertestvére? Azt hiszem, kiváló férjeket nemzett fenséged atyjaura - csak akadjon leány, aki fölér hozzájuk. DON PEDRO Elfogadnál engem, kisasszonyom? BEATRICE Nem, fenség; csak úgy, ha volna még egy férjem hétköznapra. Fenséged drága volna mindennapi használatra. - Már megbocsáss, fenség, én arra születtem, hogy tréfálkozzam, nem arra, hogy bölcselkedjem. DON PEDRO Engem csak az bánt, mikor hallgatsz: tehozzád a vidámság illik. Bizonyos, hogy víg órában születtél. BEATRICE �Bizonyos, hogy nem, mert anyám felsikoltott. De erre egy csillag táncra perdült, s az alatt születtem én. - Sok boldogságot mindkettőtöknek! LEONATO Húgom, nem néznél utána annak, amit említettem? BEATRICE Engedelmet, bátyám! - Bocsánat, fenség! (Távozik) DON PEDRO Jókedvű lány, esküszöm! LEONATO Nem sok melankólia szorult belé, uram. Nem komoly ő, csak álmában - de akkor se mindig! Azt hallom a lányomtól: sokszor álmodik boldogtalanságról, de azon olyan jót nevet, hogy fölébred rá. DON PEDRO Hallani se bírja azt a szót, hogy "férj". LEONATO A világért se! Tréfával fojtja belé a vallomást minden udvarlójába. DON PEDRO Kiváló feleség lenne Benedetto számára. LEONATO Uram Isten! Egy hét alatt az őrületbe kerepelnék egymást. DON PEDRO Claudio gróf, mikorra tervezed az esküvőt? �CLAUDIO Holnapra, uram. Mankón vánszorog az idő, míg a szerelem meg nem kapta a magáét. LEONATO Hétfőig semmiképp, kedves fiam. Addig már csak egy hét: így is rövid lesz az idő, hogy kedvem szerint rendezzek el mindent. DON PEDRO Ej, most csóválod a fejed, hogy ennyit kell várnod; de ígérem, Claudio, nem unod el magad. Én közben nekigyürkőzöm egy herkulesi munkának: signor Benedettót és Beatrice kisasszonyt eszeveszetten egymásba bolondítom. Nagyon szeretném összeboronálni őket, s nem kétlem, hogy sikerül is, ha ti hárman úgy segédkeztek, ahogy rendelem. LEONATO Tefenséged szolgálatára állok, ha tíz álmatlan éjszakám megy is rá. CLAUDIO Én is, uram. DON PEDRO S te is, kedves Hero? HERO Minden tisztességes szolgálatra kész vagyok, hogy kuzinomat jó férjhez segítsem. DON PEDRO Ahogy én ismerem: Benedetto egy cseppet sem megvetendő férjjelölt. Meg kell adni: nemesi vér, próbált vitéz, s feddhetetlen jellem. (Heróhoz) Majd kioktatlak, milyen húrokat pendíts meg kuzinod szívében, hogy beleszeressen Benedettóba. (Leonatóhoz és Claudióhoz) Én meg majd - kettőtök segítségével - úgy kifogok Benedettón, hogy hiába a gyors esze, hiába a válogatós gusztusa, csak beleszeret Beatricébe. Ha ezt véghez visszük: Cupido is elbújhat mellettünk a diadalmas vesszejével: mi leszünk itt szerelemistenek! Jertek velem, kifejtem tervemet! �Távoznak 2. szín Ugyanott. Jön Don Juan ér Boracchio DON JUAN Úgy van, Claudio gróf készül elvenni Leonato lányát. BORACCHIO Az ám, uram, de én ezt elgáncsolhatom. DON JUAN Minden gáncs, minden csapda, minden buktató: valóságos gyógyszer nekem! Belebetegedtem, úgy utálom! Ami neki kedvét szegi, abban én mind kedvem lelem. Hogy gáncsolhatnád el ezt a házasságot? BORACCHIO Nem egyenes úton, uram - de olyan suttyomban, hogy senki rajta nem kaphat. DON JUAN Mondd gyorsan, hogy? BORACCHIO Azt hiszem, mondtam már neked, uram, hogy egy év óta igen nagy becsületem van Margarétánál, a Hero komornájánál. DON JUAN Mondtad. BORACCHIO �Ha akarom, rá tudom venni, hogy akár éjszaka is a legszokatlanabb órában kinézzen úrnője ablakán. DON JUAN Mi jó néz ki abból, ha kinéz? BORACCHIO Az, hogy ők néznek fenekére a méregpohárnak, amit te készítesz. Menj bátyáduradhoz, a herceghez, s ne átalld azt mondani neki, hogy szégyent hoz a nevére, ha a jó hírű Claudiót, a te nagyra becsült barátodat, összeházasítja egy olyan elvetemült szukával, mint Hero. DON JUAN De lesz-e bizonyítékom erre? BORACCHIO Lesz annyi, hogy a herceget elvakítsd, Claudiót megkínozd, Herót tönkretedd, s Leonatót sírba vidd. Kell ennél több? DON JUAN Mindenre kész vagyok, ha megkeseríthetem őket. BORACCHIO Akkor menj, uram, s ejtsd módját, hogy Don Pedrót meg Claudio grófot félrevond. Mondd azt nekik: megtudtad, hogy Hero a szeretőm. Tégy úgy, mintha igen buzgó híve volnál mindkét úrnak, s erősen féltenéd a herceg becsületét - mert ilyen házasságot szerez; s barátja jó hírét is - mert ilyen álszüzet akarnak a nyakába varrni. Bizonyíték nélkül persze nem hiszik el, hogy jó nyomon vagy. De te olyan bizonyítékkal szolgálsz majd, hogy ahhoz nem fér kétség. Ott fognak engem látni Hero ablakában. Hallani fogják, amint Margarétát Herónak szólítom, ő meg engem kedvesének becéz. Majd úgy intézem a dolgot, hogy Hero ne legyen a közelben. Olyan tökéletes lesz a látszat, hogy a gyanút bizonyossággá érleli a féltékeny képzelet; és azzal - fuccs a lagzinak! DON JUAN Akármi förtelem sül ki ebből - belevágok! Csak ügyesen cselezz: ezer dukát üti a markodat! �BORACCHIO Csak rágalmazd meg rendületlen a lányt, akkor az én cselemben nem lesz hiba. DON JUAN Most megyek, s megtudom, melyik napra tűzték ki a nászt. Távoznak 3. szín Kert Leonato háza mellett. Jön Benedetto BENEDETTO Hé, fiú! Egy fiú jön FIÚ Parancs! BENEDETTO A szobám ablakában találsz egy könyvet: hozd ki nekem a kertbe! FIÚ Máris itt vagyok, uram. BENEDETTO Azt látom, de bár inkább már oda volnál, s fordulnál vissza. �A fiú távozik Nem győzöm csodálni, hogy egy férfi, aki látta, milyen bolond más, mikor kitör rajta a szerelem - egy férfi, aki maga jót nevetett más bolondériáján -, egyszer csak úgy elveszti a fejét, hogy egész világ csúfja lesz! Ilyen férfi Claudio. Ismertem én, mikor még hallani sem akart mást, mint dobszót és kürtöt; most meg lanton és fuvolán mereng. Ismertem, mikor még tíz mérföldet talpalt volna, csak hogy megnézhessen egy híres-jó páncélt; most meg tíz éjszaka képes álmatlan heverni, valami újdivatú mellény szabásán töprengve. Megszoktuk, hogy mindig magvasan és egyszerűen szólt - ahogy katonához és talpig férfihoz illik -, most meg cifrázza a mondókáját: émelyítő lakoma a beszéde, és minden szava különös nyalánkság. Kiforgathat, elvakíthat még engem is így valami? Nem tudom... Nem hiszem! Nem mernék megesküdni rá, hogy a szerelem sohasem bűvöl osztrigává, de arra szavamat adom, hogy amíg osztrigává nem bűvöl: én nem leszek ilyen hígvelejű! Az egyik nő szép - de én tartom magam; a másik okos - de én tartom magam; a harmadik erényes - de én tartom magam. Amíg minden varázs egy nőben nem fonódik össze, addig engem egy nő se fon be! Gazdag legyen - ez természetes; okos legyen - különben semmi okom szóba állni vele; erkölcsös legyen - különben nem csábítom el; gyönyörű legyen - különben rá se nézek; szelíd legyen vagy a közelembe se merészkedjen; előkelő legyen - vagy elő se jöjjön! S persze legyen jó társalgó, jó énekes - és a haja színe olyan, amilyennek Isten teremtette! - Aha! a herceg és "Monsieur Szerelem!" - Be a bokorba! (Elbújik) Jön Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio Baltazárral és a muzsikusokkal DON PEDRO Nos, meghallgassuk ezt az éneket? CLAUDIO Meg, jó uram. Hogy elcsitult az este! Hallgat, hogy szebben csendüljön a dal. DON PEDRO Látod, hogy Benedetto hova bújt? CLAUDIO Tisztán, uram. Ha elhallgat az ének, Előugratjuk lyukából a rókát. �DON PEDRO Nos, Baltazár, halljuk megint a dalt! BALTAZÁR Jó fenség, rossz hangom ne kényszerítsd, Hogy szégyent valljon másodszorra is. DON PEDRO Jellemző a kiválóságra az, Hogy tündöklő tökélyét leplezi; Kérlek, dalolj, és ne kéresd magad! BALTAZÁR Meglesz az ének, mert fenség a kérő. De hisz sok kérő kér meg így leányt is: Nem sokra tartja, mégis vall neki, Ha kedve tartja. DON PEDRO Rajta, rajta, kezdd el! Zenével érvelj most! Elő a lantot: A húrba kapj! BALTAZÁR Az alkalmon kapok, Hogy húrba kapjak, bár dalom - csekélység. DON PEDRO Fecseg-locsog, mint akit elkapattak. �Kapós zenész, de szószátyár - szavamra! Baltazár játszani kezd BENEDETTO Isteni dallam! Micsoda révületben ring a lelke! Hát nem csodálatos, hogy pár szál birkabél így kiragadja a lelket az emberi testből? - No én inkább tülköst fogadnék: az szokta elfújni a nóta végét! BALTAZÁR (énekel) Kisasszonyok, ne sírjatok! A férfi mind kalandor, Fél lába itt, fél lába ott, Csak gondtalan csatangol. Ne sírj, leány, A férfiért, Légy hetyke, fürge, pörge, Csak vállat vonj, ha bánat ért Hej, táncra, körbe-körbe! Ne nyújtsd a jajt, ne nyögd a bajt, Ha kínja olykor elfog! Míg nyár virít, míg lomb kihajt, A férfi úgyse lesz jobb. Ne sírj, leány, A férfiért, Légy hetyke, fürge, pörge, Csak vállat vonj, ha bánat ért Hej, táncra, körbe-körbe! �DON PEDRO Jó dal, hitemre! BALTAZÁR És rossz énekes, uram. DON PEDRO Ugyan, ugyan! Épp elég jól énekelsz, ha mondom. BENEDETTO (félre) Ha kutya vonítana így, fölhúznák érte. Adja isten, hogy ez az átkozott hang valami vészt ne hozzon ránk! Még az éjszakai hollókárogást is szívesebben hallgatom - akármilyen csapást jövendöl. DON PEDRO Most jut eszembe - hallod, Baltazár, kérlek, szerezz nekünk valami kitűnő zenét! Holnap éjjel Hero kisasszony ablaka alatt szeretnénk eljátszani. BALTAZÁR Ami tőlem telik, uram... DON PEDRO Helyes, isten veled! Baltazár távozik Jöjj csak, Leonato! Mit is mondtál ma reggel?... Hát a húgocskád, Beatrice; csakugyan szerelmes signor Benedettóba? CLAUDIO �Igen, igen! (Félre, Don Pedrónak) Cserkészd be! Ott lapul a madár! (Hangosan) Sose hittem volna, hogy ez a lány férfiembert megszerethet. LEONATO Nem ám, én sem! De a legcsodálatosabb az hogy épp signor Benedettóba habarodott bele, akitől látszólag mindig borzadt. BENEDETTO (félre) Lehetséges?... Hát innen fúj a szél?... LEONATO Szavamra, fenség, nem is tudom, mit gondoljak... Olyan eszeveszetten szereti az a lány, hogy az már hihetetlen. DON PEDRO Talán csak megjátssza? CLAUDIO Akkor jól játssza, esküszöm. LEONATO Uram Isten! Megjátssza? Hát akkor soha még megjátszott szenvedély nem hasonlított ennyire a valódihoz. DON PEDRO De hát mi jele nála a szenvedélynek? CLAUDIO (félre) Jó csalit a horogra! Mindjárt beleharap a hal! �LEONATO Hogy mi jele, uram? Hát az, ahogy ül... (Claudióhoz) Hallottad lányomtól, hogyan! CLAUDIO Hallottam, hogyne! DON PEDRO Hogyan, hogyan, kérlek? Megdöbbentesz! Azt hittem, az ő szellemét soha ki nem kezdi semmi szenvedély. LEONATO Megesküdtem volna rá én is, uram. Kivált, hogy Benedetto iránt... BENEDETTO (félre) Ha nem ez a fehér szakállú öreg mondaná, azt hinném, valami ugratás. De lehetetlen, hogy léhaság lappangjon ily tiszteletre méltó ábrázat mögött. CLAUDIO (félre) Már pedzi a csalit! Csak így tovább! DON PEDRO S elárulta valamiképp Benedettónak, hogy mit érez? LEONATO Nem! S esküszik, hogy nem is fogja soha! Épp ez emészti. CLAUDIO Úgy van! Leányodtól is azt hallom, hogy Beatrice fölsóhajtott: "Én írjam meg neki, hogy szeretem - én, aki annyiszor gúnyoltam?" �LEONATO Ezt hajtogatja mostanában, ahányszor csak nekiül az írásnak... mert egy éjszaka hússzor is fölkel, s ott kuporog egy szál ingben, míg csak tele nem körmöl egy lepedőnyi papirost. A lányom mindent elmond. CLAUDIO Most, hogy a lepedőnyi papirost említed, eszembe jut egy jó mondás - leányod említette ezt is... LEONATO Az ám, múltkor, hogy teleírja Beatrice azt a nagy lepedőt, s még egyszer átolvassa, azt susogja: "Benedetto és Beatrice - egy lepedőn!" CLAUDIO Ez az! LEONATO Csakhogy aztán összetépte a levelet ezernyi kis cafatra, s átkozta magát, hogy miért is írt ilyen szemérmetlenül - épp annak, aki majd nyilván kicsúfolja! - "Magamról ítélek - mondja Beatrice -, én is kicsúfolnám, ha írna nekem, ki én, pedig hogy szeretem!" CLAUDIO Aztán térdre hull, sír, zokog, mellét veri, haját tépi, könyörög, jajveszékel: "Ó, édes Benedetto! Úristen, adj türelmet!" LEONATO Igen, így őrjöng - a lányom is mondja. Már úgy eszét vesztette, hogy Hero néha attól fél, kárt tesz magában... Szent igaz, hogy így van! DON PEDRO Jó volna, ha Benedetto megtudná ezt valakitől - ha már Beatrice nem mer szólni. CLAUDIO �Mi értelme volna? Csak kigúnyolná, és még jobban megkínozná szegény kislányt. DON PEDRO No, ha azt merné, kötelet érdemelne! - Micsoda édes, drága lány! És olyan tiszta, mint a patyolat! CLAUDIO S milyen eszes! DON PEDRO Csak abban nem, hogy épp Benedettót szereti. LEONATO Bizony, uram, ha a vér az ésszel harcra kel ilyen zsenge kis testben: tízet egy ellen, hogy a vér győz! Nagyon sajnálom a kislányt - minden okom megvan rá, hisz bátyja is, gyámja is vagyok! DON PEDRO Bár énértem rajongna így! Én ugyan nem törődném semmi mással - rögtön feleségül venném! Kérlek, beszéljetek Benedettóval! Lássuk, mit szól a dologhoz?! LEONATO Jól tenném, azt hiszed? CLAUDIO Hero szerint: ez a biztos halál Beatricének. Mert az szegény azt mondja: belehal, ha Benedetto nem szereti, de inkább meghal, semhogy elárulja neki szerelmét. De még ha megkérné is a kezét: ő inkább választaná a halált, mint hogy csak egy mákszemnyit is engedjen a büszkeségéből. DON PEDRO Igaza van! Ha szerelmet vallana neki: Benedetto alighanem kinevetné - hisz tudjátok, milyen pökhendi. �CLAUDIO De legény a talpán! DON PEDRO No, igen, szemre elég mutatós. CLAUDIO És - Isten a tanúm - roppant eszes! DON PEDRO No igen, föl-fölszikrázik benne valami... szellemféle. CLAUDIO S állítom, hogy bátor is. DON PEDRO Hektornál Hektorabb, szavamra! S ha valami patvarkodás fenyeget, jól mondod, maga a szelíd józan ész! Vagy elkerüli kellő tapintattal, vagy istenfélő keresztyén módjára tűri. LEONATO Ha istenfélő, akkor persze béketűrő. És ha mégse tűri a békét: hogyne félne és remegne? DON PEDRO Úgy is tesz, mert istenfélő ám, ha nem gondolná is az ember egyik-másik vaskos tréfája után... Bizony, sajnálom a húgocskádat! No, megkeressük Benedettót, eláruljuk neki, hogy beleszeretett a kislány? CLAUDIO Csak azt ne, uram! Inkább jó tanácsokkal segítsünk Beatricének, hogy kitépje szívéből ezt az érzést. �LEONATO Hiába. Előbb tépi ki az a lány a tulajdon szívét. DON PEDRO No, majd hallunk még erről többet is a lányodtól. Hadd csillapodjék közben a dolog. Szeretem Benedettót: örülnék, ha magába szállna, s belátná, hogy mennyire méltatlan ilyen remek lányra. LEONATO Indulhatunk, uram, ha parancsolod: vár a vacsora. CLAUDIO (félre) Ha ettől bele nem habarodik, akkor semmitől! DON PEDRO (halkan) Ugyanilyen hálót kell vetni Beatricének is! A lányod meg a komornája elintézhetne. Az lesz a jó mulatság, ha mind a kettő szentül hiszi, hogy a másik bolondul érte - s közben sehol semmi! Ezt a komédiát szeretném látni! Micsoda cirkusz lesz! - Küldjük ide Beatricét, hogy hívja asztalhoz barátunkat! Don Pedro, Claudio, Leonato távozik BENEDETTO (előjön a lugasból) Ez nem lehet beugratás. Komolyan folyt az egész tanácskozás, Heróra hivatkoznak - ez is bizonyíték. Látszik, hogy megesett a szívük Beatricén. Szegénykét alighanem elragadta a szenvedély, Szerelmes belém! Ezt viszonozni kell! Csak füleltem, amint kárpálnak... Azt mondják, én majd pöffeszkedem, ha megtudom, hogy az a lány belém szeretett! Azt mondják, hogy Beatrice inkább meghal, mint hogy kimutassa, mit érez... Sohasem gondoltam a házasságra. De ne lássanak pöffeszkedőnek! Örüljön az ember, ha fülébe jut, hogy mi a hibája, s jóváteheti. Azt mondják, szép a lány. Ez igaz, ezt én is tanúsíthatom. És jó erkölcsű. Úgy van, ezt sem cáfolom. Eszes is - csak abban nem, hogy épp engem szeret. Igaz, hogy ez nem vall bölcsességre, de bolondságra se, mert fergetegesen bele fogok szeretni! Nyilván �fejemhez vágnak majd egy-két sületlen tréfát, ócska szellemességet, merthogy eddig lefitymáltam a házasságot... De hát az ízlés tán nem változik? Az ember fiatalon odavan egy ételért - aztán idősebb korában rá se tud nézni. Hát holmi sziporkák, szentenciák, papirosböcsességek letérítsenek egy férfit a tulajdon pályájáról? Nem! Be kell népesíteni a földet! Amikor azt mondtam, hogy agglegényként halok meg, még nem tudtam, hogy megérem a házasságom napját. Beatrice közeleg Beatrice! A napvilágra mondom: szép kisasszony! Szerelem jeleit szimatolom rajta! BEATRICE Kedvem ellenére ide küldtek, hogy vacsorázni hívjalak, signor. BENEDETTO Szép Beatrice, köszönöm fáradozásodat. BEATRICE Nem fáradtam többet ezért a köszönetért, mint te azzal, hogy kimondtad. Ha fáradságomba kerül, ide se jövök. BENEDETTO Tehát örömöd telt a küldetésben. BEATRICE Egy késhegynyi - amennyivel megfújthatsz egy csókát. Látom, signor, nincs étvágyad - áldjon ég! (Távozik) BENEDETTO Aha! "Kedvem ellenére ide küldtek, hogy vacsorázni hívjalak" - ebben kettős értelem rejlik! "Nem fáradtam többet ezért a köszönetért mint te azzal, hogy kimondtad" - ez annyi, mintha azt mondaná: teérted minden fáradozás olyan könnyű, mint egy köszönet. Gazember vagyok, ha meg nem sajnálom! Pogány vagyok, ha meg nem szeretem! Megyek, megszerzem az arcképét! (Elsiet) �HARMADIK FELVONÁS 1. szín A kertben. Jön Hero, Margaréta és Ursula HERO Jó Margaréta, fuss csak a szobába: Ott benn leled Beatricét, amint Beszél a herceggel s Claudióval... Súgd a fülébe, hogy mi Ursulával A kertben egyre-másra emlegetjük... Mondd, hogy kihallgattál, s vedd rá, hogy ő is Lapuljon meg a lugas bokra közt, Ott, hol a napon érett sűrü lonc Kizárja a napot, mint nagyranőtt Kegyenc, ki képes tápláló urát Kitúrni... Ott lessen Beatricénk És hallgatózzon! Ez a megbizásod: Végezd el fürgén, s hagyj magunkra, kérlek! MARGARÉTA Azonnal ideküldöm, ezt igérem! (Elsiet) HERO Nos, Ursula, ha Beatrice jön, Mi föl-le járunk a lugas során, S egyetlenegy témánk lesz: Benedetto! �Ha csak kiejtem a nevét, dicsérd úgy, Ahogy még ember meg nem érdemelte. Én újságolom majd, hogy Benedetto Beatricéért lángban ég. Olyan Fortélyos a kis Cupido nyila, Hogy fülön át - sziven talál! Beatrice hátul jön Gyerünk! Nézd, Beatrice surran, mint a bíbic: A földre kushad, úgy fülel szavunkra! URSULA Így jó halászni: nézni, hogy halunk Arany uszonnyal szánt ezüst habot, S ravasz csalira boldogan harap! Beatricére most vessük ki horgunk, Amíg a sűrü rejtekén lopakszik! Percig se aggódj: szerepem tudom. HERO Közel huzódjunk hozzá, hogy fülével Finom csalinkból semmit el ne vesszen! Közelebb húzódnak a bozóthoz Nem, Ursulám, nagyon kevély leány ő, Jól ismerem: vad és szilaj szivű, Akár a szirti sólyom. �URSULA S Benedetto Beatricébe csakugyan szerelmes? HERO A herceg mondja, s vőlegényem is. URSULA S kérték, hogy erről szólj Beatricének? HERO Kértek, hogy közbejárjak. Azt feleltem: Ha Benedettónak barátai, Beszéljék rá, hogy küzdjön vágya ellen, S Beatricének semmiképp se szóljon. URSULA S mért mondtad ezt? Hát az a jó nemes Tán nem méltó a boldogságos ágyra, Amin Beatricénk nyugtatja testét? HERO Ó, Ámor isten! Hogyne volna méltó! Jobban megérdemelné bárkinél. De nem termett még keményebb dió A mi vadóc Beatricénk szivénél. Gúny és kevélység szikrázik szemében: Mindent lenéz, amerre néz. Feszít Saját eszével, s bárki mást lefitymál. �Szeretni nem tud, sőt még arra sem Képes, hogy érzést jó szívvel fogadjon: Csak önmagát imádja. URSULA Úgy van, úgy! Az úrfi vágyát jobb, ha meg se tudja: Csak gúnyolódna rajta, annyi szent. HERO Jól mondod ezt, mert nincs oly férfiember - Bármíly nemes, tudós, ifjú, kiváló -, Akit ki nem csufol... Ha szőke fürtű, Azt mondja: inkább húgává fogadná; Ha barna: azt, hogy Természet-anyánk Pojácát pingált, s ejtett egy pacát. A szálas néki égimeszelő; Az apró meg csak kimustrált dugó; A jó társalgó: pörge szélkelep; A hallgatag meg: nehézkes fatuskó. Így minden jót a visszájára fordít; Nem tisztel semmi virtust, érdemet. URSULA Ilyen csipősség nem ajánlatos. HERO Nem, nem ajánlatos egy lány, ha oly Makacs, makrancos, mint Beatrice. De ki mer szólni néki? Hisz ha szólnék, �Gúnnyal nyilazna, tréfával ledöfne, S kacagna, míg belé nem pusztulok. Eméssze hát meg lángja Benedettót, És sóhajokban füstölögjön el: Jobb halni bútól, mint gúnytól sebezve... Nincs rosszabb, mint ha csiklandással ölnek! URSULA Beatricének kéne szólni mégis. HERO Nem, inkább Benedettóhoz megyek, S tanácsolom, hogy lángját fojtsa el. Sőt holmi kis rágalmat kitalálok, Hogy kuzinomtól kedvét elvegyem. Nem is hinnéd, egy rossz szó míly hatásos! URSULA Jaj, ezzel mégse bántsd meg kuzinod! Amilyen ritka jó eszű leány, Nem fog talán meggondolatlanul Kikosarazni egy ilyen kiváló Nemes vitézt, mint signor Benedetto! HERO Az első férfi ő Itáliában Kivéve persze drága Claudiómat! URSULA Már meg ne haragudj, kisasszonyom, �Kimondom, hogy egész Itáliában Tartásra, észre, jó vitézi hírre Signor Benedettónak párja nincs. HERO Valóban, jó nevének híre van. URSULA S ő rászolgált, mielőtt híre kelt! Kisasszonyom, mikor is esküszöl? HERO Hát holnap reggel! Jöjj csak, jöjj velem: Majd megnézed ruháim, s adsz tanácsot, Melyik való leginkább esküvőre! URSULA (halkan) Már lépre ment! Megvan, kisasszonyom! HERO Ha megvan: Ámoré a diadal. Kit nyíllal ejt el, kit csapdába csal. Hero és Ursula távozik, Beatrice előlép BEATRICE Lehetséges ez? - Jaj, fülem hogy ég! Vadság, kevélység szárad lelkemen?... Pokolra gőg és szűzi büszkeség, �Zászlótok alatt nem vár győzelem! Jöjj, Benedetto, szerelmem tied! Szilaj szivem kezessé szoktatom. Ha te szeretsz, én kedvesed leszek: Szent lánc köt össze majd egy szép napon. Méltó vagy rája, mondják - s én magam Hitet teszek szavukra boldogan! (El) 2. szín Leonato házában. Jön Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedetto és Leonato DON PEDRO Kivárom, míg meglesz az esküvőd, azután indulok Aragóniába. CLAUDIO Elkísérlek én is, uram, ha megengeded. DON PEDRO Nem, nem, attól házasságod kelő napja mindjárt felhőbe is borulna: mintha egy gyermeknek megmutatnák új ruháját, de megtiltanák, hogy fölvegye! Csak Benedettót merném kérni, hogy velem tartson, mert ő aztán tetőtől talpig csupa jókedv. Kétszer-háromszor is elvágta már Cupido íjján a húrt, úgy, hogy az a kis gazember őrá már nem mer nyilazni. Olyan érces a szíve, mint a harang, s a nyelve - valóságos harangnyelv. Ami a szívében lakik, azt hirdeti a nyelve is. BENEDETTO Uraim, nem vagyok én már a régi. LEONATO �Én is azt mondom. Úgy látom, megkomolyodtál. CLAUDIO Remélem, szerelmes. DON PEDRO Ördög vinné a mihasznát! Nincs őbenne egy csöpp jó vér se: nem fog rajta a szerelem. Ha búsul: csak az a baja, hogy üres a zsebe. BENEDETTO A fogam fáj. DON PEDRO Húzasd ki! BENEDETTO Inkább felkötni kell, ha fáj. CLAUDIO Vagy inkább téged felkötni, hogy ne fájjon. DON PEDRO Eh, hogy lehet sóhajtozni holmi fogfájás miatt! LEONATO Egy kis dagadtság, egy kis szuvasság - mi az? BENEDETTO Persze, férfiasan elviseljük a fájdalmat - míg más érzi. CLAUDIO �Azt mondom, mégiscsak szerelmes! DON PEDRO Semmi jele rajta efféle hóbortnak... legföljebb divathóbortnak. Ma hollandusnak öltözik, holnap franciának... Vagy két országnak egyszerre hódol: övön alul német - csupa merő bugyogó -, övön felül spanyol - mellényt a világért se hord! Bolondságok szerelmese, de nem szerelem bolondja - ahogy ti hiszitek. CLAUDIO Ha ez nem habarodott bele valami nőbe - akkor én többet nem hiszek áruló jeleknek. Minden reggel megkeféli a kalapját - mit jelent ez? DON PEDRO Látta valaki a borbélynál? CLAUDIO Nem, de a borbély legényét látta valaki nála. Orcájának bozontos díszével azóta már labdát tömnek. LEONATO Szavamra, így szakáll nélkül fiatalabbnak látszik. DON PEDRO Pézsmával is keni magát. Nem szimatolsz ebből valamit? CLAUDIO Csak azt, hogy a bódító ifjú - szerelmes. DON PEDRO Legfőbb jele ennek - a melankólia. CLAUDIO �Hát az orca-kence... az mikor volt szokása? DON PEDRO Meg az arcfestés! Hallom, mit suttognak erről. CLAUDIO S mivé lett játszi szelleme? Mint a lant húrja, ha megereszkedik. DON PEDRO Igen, ezek baljós jelek - mondd ki, mondd ki, hogy szerelmes! CLAUDIO Én azt is tudom, ki szerelmes őbele. DON PEDRO Azt én is szeretném tudni. Fogadni mernék, olyan nő, aki nem ismeri. CLAUDIO De ismeri, minden hibájával együtt - mégis meghal érte. DON PEDRO Akkor azt vagy kiterítik, vagy leterítik. BENEDETTO A fogfájáson mindez nem segít. Bátyámuram, sétáljunk erre el. Nyolc-tíz okos szó van a nyelvemen - de csak neked tartogatom. Semmi szükség rá, hogy ezek a szélkelepek hallják! Benedetto és Leonato elsétál DON PEDRO Akármi legyek, ha nem Beatricéről akar szót érteni! �CLAUDIO Hát persze! Amióta Hero meg Margaréta is eljátszotta azt a kis jelenetet Beatricének... Most már a két medve nem ugrik egymásnak, ha valahol összeakad. Jön Don Juan DON JUAN Jó egészséget, bátyám és uram! DON PEDRO Neked is, öcsém! DON JUAN Ha volna időd, beszélni szeretnék veled. DON PEDRO Bizalmasan? DON JUAN Úgy, ha megengeded... Különben Claudio gróf is hallhatja: őt illeti, amit mondani akarok. CLAUDIO Miről van szó? DON JUAN (Claudióhoz) Te holnap készülsz megesküdni, grófom? DON PEDRO Hiszen tudod. �DON JUAN Nem akarom tudni, ha ő is tudja, amit én tudok. CLAUDIO Ha valami akadálya van: ki vele, kérlek! DON JUAN Talán azt hiszed, hogy nem szeretlek - de ez majd később derül ki. S úgy lehet, jobb emberednek tartasz majd azután, amit most fölfedek. Ami bátyámat illeti: meggyőződésem, hogy jóindulattal van irántad, és tiszta szívből igyekezett egyengetni tervezett házasságodat. Eszeveszett terv és kárba veszett igyekezet. DON PEDRO De hát mi a baj? DON JUAN Azért jöttem, hogy megmondjam. Rövidre foghatom - épp azért, mert hosszú ideje tartja már magát a szóbeszéd. A hölgy hűtlen. CLAUDIO Ki? Hero? DON JUAN Ő. Leonato Herója, a te Heród, mindenki Herója. CLAUDIO Hűtlen? DON JUAN Ez enyhe kifejezés a romlottságára. Mondhatom, ő maga durvább, sőt... gondolj valami borsosabb szóra: könnyen meggyőzlek, hogy az találóbb. Csak ne ámuldozz, mert bizonyítékkal szolgálok. Tarts velem ma este: meglátod, hogy az esküvője előtti éjszakán is �ki-be járnak az ablakán. Aztán, ha továbbra is szereted, hát csak vedd el holnap. De a becsületedhez jobban illenék, ha meggondolnád magad. CLAUDIO Lehetséges ez? DON PEDRO Nem akarom elhinni. DON JUAN Ha nem mersz hinni a szemednek, hát ne valld be, mit tudtál meg. Én mutatok épp eleget! Majd ha láttatok, hallottatok mindent: cselekedjetek aszerint. CLAUDIO Ha bármit látok ma éjjel, amitől vissza kell lépnem: holnap ott, a násznép előtt, esküvés helyett - megszégyenítem! DON PEDRO Én meg ahogy helytálltam érted a leánykérésben: veled tartok a megszégyenítésben is! DON JUAN Nem akarom tovább vádolni, míg ti magatok nem lesztek tanúim. Csak éjfélig várjatok hidegvérrel: akkor feltárul minden magától. DON PEDRO Baljós napfordulás! CLAUDIO Szörnyű orvtámadás! DON JUAN Kivédett sorscsapás! - Ezt mondjátok majd ti is, ha meglátjátok, mi következik! �Mind el 3. szín Utca. Lasponya, Furkó és őrök jönnek LASPONYA (az őröknek) Derék s igaz emberek vagytok-e? FURKÓ Azok hát! Különben siralmas sorsra jutna testük-lelkük: örök üdvösségre. LASPONYA No nem, az nagyon is enyhe büntetés volna az elharapódzott korrekcióra - kivált a herceg úr őrségében! FURKÓ Helyes, Lasponya szomszéd, csak szabd ki nekik a reglamát! LASPONYA Először is: melyik köztetek a legindolensebb a rendőri szolgálatra? ELSŐ ŐR Leginkább Pogácsa meg Tufa, merthogy ők írni-olvasni is tudnak, uram. LASPONYA Gyere csak, Tufa szomszéd! Finom névvel áldott meg az Isten. Az előkelő ábrázat a jó szerencse ajándéka, de az írás-olvasás, az velünk születik! �MÁSODIK ŐR Strázsamester uram, mind a kettő... LASPONYA Mind a kettő megvan benned - tudom, hogy ezt akartad kibökni. No, ábrázatodért adj hálát Istennek - de jobb, ha nem dicsekszel vele. Az írás-olvasást pedig csak akkor fitogtasd, amikor nem szükségeltetik efféle fényűzés. Az a híred, hogy te vagy itt a legindolensebb a rendőri szolgálatra: azért hát tartsd te a lámpást. Az a tiszted, hogy minden kétes személyt betakaríts. A herceg úr nevében akárki emberfiát megállíthatol. MÁSODIK ŐR De hátha nem áll meg? LASPONYA Ej, hát akkor ne figyelmezz rá, hanem ereszd útjára: ellenben hívd össze rögvest az egész őrséget - s adjatok mind hálát az Istennek, hogy megszabadított egy gazembertől. FURKÓ Ha nem áll meg, amikor ráparancsolunk, akkor nem is lehet a herceg alattvalója! LASPONYA Szent igaz! Márpedig őnékik semmi dolguk mással, csakis a herceg úr alattvalóival. Aztán valami lármát ne csapjatok az utcán, mert az őrség számára mindennemű fecsegés-locsogás szigorúan kommendáltatik, és vétó terhe alatt legális. MÁSODIK ŐR Leginkább majd szunyókálunk, nem fecsegünk - tudjuk mi, hogy mi az őrszem tiszte! LASPONYA Lám csak, úgy beszélsz, ahogyan sokat látott, megfontolt bakterhez illik. Mert hát miért is volna a szunyókálás vétek? Csak arra ügyeljetek, hogy el ne lopja valaki az alabárdotokat! No, járjátok végig a kocsmákat, és utasítsatok minden részeget, hogy - bújjon ágyba. �MÁSODIK ŐR De hátha nem akaródzik nekik? LASPONYA Ej, hát akkor hagyjátok ott őket, míg ki nem józanodnak. Aztán, ha akkor se kaptok tőlük jó szót, hát mondjátok, hogy nem is őket kerestétek, tévedés történt. MÁSODIK ŐR Igenis, uram. LASPONYA Ha tolvajjal találkoztok: hivatali hatalmatoknál fogva gyanakodhattok rája, hogy nem tisztességes férfiú. S az ilyennel minél kevesebbet törődtök, bajlódtok: annál nagyobb böcsületet vallotok. MÁSODIK ŐR De ha tudjuk, hogy tolvaj, nem kell őtet lefogni? LASPONYA Igaz, ami igaz: hivatalból megtehetitek; de én azt mondom: aki szurokba nyúl, szurtos lesz az! Ha tolvajt fogtok, a legbékésebb eljárás: kilesni, míg megmutatkozik a lopós természete, s ellopakodik a kompániátokból. FURKÓ Tégedet, kolléga, mindig is könyörületes embernek ismertünk. LASPONYA Igaz, ami igaz: én egy kutyát se kötnék föl a magam jószántából - akkor már inkább egy embert, kivált, ha néminemű eminencia bizonyulna rája. FURKÓ Ha azt halljátok, hogy valahol csecsszopó rí éjtszaka: híjjátok elő a dajkáját, s parancsoljatok rá, hogy csitítsa el. �MÁSODIK ŐR De hátha a dajka alszik, s nem hallja, hogy ráparancsolunk? LASPONYA Hát akkor csak vonuljatok el csendességgel: hadd ocsúdjék föl a pulya sírására! Mert amelyik juh nem hallja meg a bárány bőgését, az a bornyúbégetésre se neszel föl. FURKÓ Szent igaz. LASPONYA Eddig tartott az utasítás. A rend őre vagy: herceg urunk tulajdon személyit repercentálod. Ha szembetalálkozol éjtszaka a herceggel, őtet is megállíthatod. FURKÓ Nem, a Szűzmáriáját, aztat talán mégse! LASPONYA Öt tallért egy ellen - akármelyik törvénytudó személy előtt -, hogy igenis megállíthatod! Persze, csak ha a herceg is rááll, hogy megálljon. Mert a rend őrének senkit se szabad megsértenie; márpedig, ha akaratja ellenire megállítasz valakit, az sértés. FURKÓ A Szűzmáriáját, bizony úgy van! LASPONYA De úgy ám! No, emberek, jó éjszakát! Aztán ha valami fontos dolog esnék, engem híjjatok! Szedjétek össze az eszeteket - de még a cimboráitok eszét is -, jó éjtszakát! Gyere, szomszéd! Indulnak Furkóval �MÁSODIK ŐR No, emberek, megkaptuk az utasítást. Üldögéljünk itt a templom padján két óráig, aztán ágyba mind! LASPONYA (visszafordul) Még egy szót, derék szomszédok! Cirkáljatok signor Leonato portája körül, mert ott holnapra lakodalom készül, s nagy nyüzsgés lesz az éjjel! Isten áldjon! Virrasszatok éhbéren! Lasponya és Furkó elvonul. Előtántorog Boracchio, majd a nyomában Corrado BORACCHIO (halkan) Hé, Corrado! ELSŐ ŐR (halkan) Csitt! Ne moccanjatok! BORACCHIO Corrado, hol vagy már? CORRADO Itt, a sarkadban, komám! BORACCHIO Hát azért viszketett a sarkam! Mindjárt gondoltam, hogy valami rühes alak lehet ott! CORRADO Ezért még megkapod a magadét. De most halljam azt a históriát! �BORACCHIO Csak lapulj ide, az eresz alá, már szemerkél az eső. Kivallok én mindent, mert borban az igazság! ELSŐ ŐR (halkan) Valami gazság! Füleljetek, emberek! BORACCHIO Tudd meg, hogy Don Juantól - ezer dukátot kaptam. CORRADO Milyen gaztettnek lehet ilyen nagy ára? BORACCHIO Azt kérdezd inkább: milyen gazembernek lehet ilyen sok pénze? Mert ha a pénzes gazembernek szüksége van a szegény legényre, akkor a szegény legény olyan árat szab, amilyen őneki tetszik! CORRADO Nem fogy csudám! BORACCHIO Látszik, hogy kezdő vagy. Azt tudod, hogy mellény, kalap, kabát divatja - semmiség. CORRADO Persze, csak ruha. BORACCHIO Azt mondom, divat! �CORRADO Igen, a divat, az divat. BORACCHIO Eh! Épp úgy mondhatom, hogy a bolond, az bolond. Hát nem látod, micsoda huncut tolvaj a divat? MÁSODIK ŐR (félre) "Huncut" - ismerős ez a név! Vagy hét éve garázdálkodik erre; nagy tolvaj! Úgy jár-kel itt, mint valami nemesúr, "Huncut" - így híjják, emlékszek. BORACCHIO Hallod ezt? Valaki beszél! CORRADO Nem, csak a szélkakas nyikorog a házon. BORACCHIO Mondom hát, nem látod, milyen huncut tolvaj a divat?... Hogy elszédít, hogy kiforgat minden ficsurat?... úgy tizennégytől harmincöt évesig... Néha úgy ruházza őket, mint a fáraó vitézeit a megbarnult szentképen - néha meg mint a Bál isten papjait az ótemplom ablakán - néha meg mint azt a csupasz képű Herkulest a koszlott, molyos kárpiton - megnézted? -, duzzadtabb a gatyapőce, mint a buzogánya... CORRADO Jó, jó, tudom én is - s azt is, hogy a divat több ruhát vág a sutba, mint amennyit ember elnyüstölhet... De hát nem megszédített a divat téged is? - lám, elkanyarodtál a históriádtól, s a divatról fecsegsz! BORACCHIO Attól ne tarts! Tudd meg, hogy máma éjtszaka bekéredzkedtem Margarétához... a - Hero kisasszony komornájához, de úgy szólítottam, mintha Hero volna... A kisasszony ablakán kihajolva búcsúztatott, jó éjszakát kívánt vagy ezerszer... De nem jól mondom ezt a históriát... �Azon kellett volna kezdenem, hogy a herceg, meg Claudio, meg a gazdám... No, a gazdám, Don Juan, az úgy dirigálta, állogatta, igazgatta azt a két urat, hogy onnét messziről, a kertből megleshessék a szerelmetes találkát. CORRADO Aztán Margarétát Herónak gondolták? BORACCHIO Azok ketten igen, a herceg meg Claudio. De az én gazdám, az ördögfajzat, az tudta ám, hogy az ott Margaréta! Egy szó mint száz - a gazdám erősködése, a csalafinta sötétség, no meg leginkább az én szerelmetes mesterkedésem - az megtette a magáét! Don Juan minden rágalma olyan valóságosnak rémlett egyszeriben, hogy Claudio őrjöngve rohant el... Megesküdött, hogy holnap reggel a templomban, mihelyt elé kerül Hero: ott, az egész gyülekezet előtt fejére olvassa, mit látott az éjjel, s kiadja az útját - mehet haza a menyasszony párja nélkül! Az őrök előlépnek MÁSODIK ŐR Megállj! A herceg nevében! ELSŐ ŐR Híjjátok a strázsamestert! Itten mi fölfedeztük az álladalom legveszedelmesebb paráznaságát. MÁSODIK ŐR Az a Huncut nevezetű is köztük lehet - azt majd megismerem a barkójárul. CORRADO Emberek, emberek! MÁSODIK ŐR Előkerítitek ti azt a Huncutot - errül kezeskedem! �CORRADO Emberek... ELSŐ ŐR Egy szót se! Ezennel befoglak! Megparancsolom, hogy felsőbb engedelmetekkel velünk tartsatok! BORACCHIO No, szép kis portéka lesz belőlünk, ha ezek itt plajbászvégre kapnak! CORRADO Mondhatnám: keresett portéka. Csak nyugalom... megyünk veletek! Mind elvonulnak 4. szín Szoba Leonato házában. Hero, Margaréta, Ursula jön HERO Ursula, kedves, ébreszd föl a kuzinkámat, Beatricét, mondd, hogy keljen már! URSULA Megyek, kisasszonyom. HERO S mondd, hogy jöjjön ide! URSULA �Igenis. (Elmegy) MARGARÉTA Igazán, azt hiszem, jobb volna a másik gallér. HERO Nem, kedves Margóm, ezt veszem fel. MARGARÉTA Szavamra, ez nem áll olyan jól. Fogadni mernék, hogy a kuzinkád is ezt mondja majd! HERO A kuzinkám bolond - és te is az vagy! Csakis ezt veszem fel. MARGARÉTA Pompás ez az új fejdísz - csak a vendéghaj lehetne rajta egy kicsit sötétebb. A ruha szabása is remek! Én láttam a milánói hercegné ruháját, amiért úgy odavannak... HERO Ó, csodálatos, azt mondják! MARGARÉTA Esküszöm, ehhez képest csak hálóköntös. Arany hímzés, ezüst csipke - az ujján, vállán gyöngy - és körös-körül kék fodor... De a tiéd, kisasszonyom - ez a furcsa, finom, kecses szabás - ez tízszer olyan izgalmas! HERO Adná Isten, hogy örömben viseljem, mert nagyon nehéz a szívem! MARGARÉTA Nemsokára még nehezebb lesz - egy férfi terhével. �HERO Fuj, nem szégyelled magad! MARGARÉTA Miért, kisasszonyom? Azért, hogy ezt tisztességesen kimondom? Tán nem tisztességes dolog a házasság, még a koldusok násza is? S tán nem tisztességes ember a párod - még házasság nélkül is? Te jobb szeretnéd, ha így beszélnék: "Szavammal ne vétsek, egy hitvestárs oldalán..." satöbbi... Ej, nem sérti az én beszédem, csak azt, aki hamisan gondolkozik. Nem bántok én senkit. Mi bántó van abban, hogy "nehezebb lesz egy férfi terhével"? Nincs abban semmi - csak derék férfi, derék asszony nyomja azt a derékaljat - s ne afféle könnyű szerelemből legyen terhesség. Kérdezd csak meg Beatrice kisasszonyt - épp itt jön! Belép Beatrice HERO Jó reggelt, kuzin! BEATRICE Jó reggelt, kedves Hero! HERO No, mi az? Mért szólsz ilyen bágyadtan? BEATRICE Én már eztán csak így szólok, ha szólok. MARGARÉTA Búsan szóló solo. De hogy mégse maradj solo, én majd táncolok rá. BEATRICE Csak vigyázz, félre ne lépj! Ha majd a férjed se lép félre, lesz fiókátok egy egész fészekalja. MARGARÉTA �Fészekalja! Sok beszédnek sok az alja. BEATRICE Mindjárt öt óra, ideje volna elkészülni, kuzin! - Komolyan mondom, nagyon rosszul vagyok... Brrr! MARGARÉTA Brrr? Ez jelent valamit! Lovat biztatsz?... vagy sólymot? vagy valami jómadarat?... Kiderítem én, ki az! BEATRICE Kiderítheted, de engem kiterítenek! MARGARÉTA Előbb kell neked nászlepel, mint gyászlepel! BEATRICE Mit akar ez a bolond? MARGARÉTA Én semmit. De Isten adja meg minden epedő szűznek a betevő falatját! HERO Nézd, kuzin, ezt a kesztyűt a gróftól kaptam. Leheld be az illatát, milyen finom! BEATRICE Én már alig lehelek, mint a tömött liba. MARGARÉTA Egy szűz, akit megtömtek... Hm, ez nem is rossz betegség! �BEATRICE Eszed tokja! Úristen! Mióta vagy ilyen szellemes? MARGARÉTA Mióta a te eszed tokba került, s pihen. Nem jó, hogy az én fejemből is pattan ki sziporka? BEATRICE A fejdíszed jobban sziporkázik, mint a fejed. - Igazán beteg vagyok. MARGARÉTA Benedictus-főzettel kell borogatni a szívét, más nem használ. HERO De hisz az paraszti nevén - bogáncs! Csak meg ne bökje a bökőjével ez a Benedictus! BEATRICE Benedictus, Benedictus! Miféle célzás ez a Benedictus? MARGARÉTA Célzás? Szó sincs róla! Csak az áldásos bogáncsfőzetről van szó. Te most azt hiszed, hogy én azt hiszem, hogy szerelmes vagy. Nem, nem - Szűz Anyánkra! - nem vagyok én olyan bolond, hogy azt higgyem, ami sejlik, és azt sejtsem, ami rémlik - hogy azt vegyem észre, amit szívre kell venni, s azt vegyem szívre, amit észre kell venni - dehogy gondolom én meggondolatlanul, hogy szerelmes vagy, szerelmes leszel, szerelmes lehetsz! De hát Benedetto is így volt, s egyszercsak rájött, hogy férfi. Azelőtt kiköpött, ha házasságról volt szó, most pedig kiköpött olyan, mint egy házasulandó ifjú. Én nem tudhatom, kisasszonyom, mit forgatsz a fejedben, de mondhatom, te is úgy forgatod a szemed, mint más emberlánya. BEATRICE Meg nem áll a nyelved! MARGARÉTA De amit mond, az megáll! �Ursula besiet URSULA Kisasszonyom, szobádba, gyorsan! Itt vannak a gavallérok - a herceg, a gróf úr, signor Benedetto, Don Juan - s mind a többi a városból - visznek a templomba! HERO Segítsetek felöltözni - kuzinkám, Margóm, Ursulám! Mind elsietnek 5. szín Csarnok Leonato házában. Jön Leonato Lasponyával és Furkóval LEONATO Mi járatban vagy nálam, derék földim? LASPONYA Én, kérem, szeretnék az úrral konflidensen szót érteni egy olyan kázusról, aki az úrnak, igencsak közelről indiferens. LEONATO Csak röviden, láthatjátok, sok a dolgom. LASPONYA Hát, uram, így áll a dolog... �FURKÓ Így bizony, uram. LEONATO Milyen dolog, jó emberek? LASPONYA Uram, ez a derék Furkó egy kicsikét el-eltér a dologtól - öreg ember már, uram, nem olyan genitális koponya, ammint, Isten segedelmével, magam is szeretném, de bizisten ollyan tisztességes, mint az a ránc ott a szemöldöke közt! FURKÓ Bizony, Istennek hála, vagyok ollyan tisztességes, mint akárki fia, mán az öregje, ha nem tisztességesebb énnálam is. LASPONYA Eltaláltad szarva közt a tőgyit, Furkó szomszéd. LEONATO Jó emberek, egy kissé körülményesek vagytok. LASPONYA Kegyelmednek úgy tetszik, csakhogy mi a szegény herceg szolgálatában állunk. De az mán igaz, hogy énmagam, ha énnekem annyi körülményem volna is, mint egy királynak, hát én aztat mind kegyelmedre testálnám hit alatt. LEONATO Minden körülményességed rám szakadjon, mi? LASPONYA Bizony, még ha ezerannyi volna is, merhogy hallom, kegyelmednek ollyan infámis nagy redumációja van itt, mint akárkinek városszerte, és hát én ugyan szegény ember vagyok, de eztet azér jólesik hallanom! �FURKÓ Hát még énnekem! LEONATO Nagyon szeretném már tudni, mit akartok mondani. FURKÓ Biz, uram, a strázsa máma éjtszaka elkapott egy pár ollyan megrögzött cinkost, mint akárki itten Messinában - kegyelmedrül nem is szólva. LASPONYA Derék vénember ez, uram, csak hát beszélhetnékje van - mán ahogy a szólás tartsa: "Hosszú élet, rövid ész," Uram Isten, mit nem lát az ember ebben a világban! - Azér csak jól beszélsz, Furkó szomszéd! Lám, jó ember az Isten - és hát ahol ketten ülnek meg egy lovat, ott az egyiknek csak hátul kell ülni. Jótét lélek ez, uram. Van ollyan jó, mint akármelyik kenyérpusztító, de hát Isten jóvoltából nem minden ember egyforma, sajnos. - Ugye, jó szomszéd? LEONATO Persze, persze, ő elmarad mögötted. LASPONYA Hát a tálentumokat az Isten osztogassa. LEONATO Nos, mennem kell. LASPONYA Egy szót még, uram! A strázsa csakugyan betakarított két nótárius huncutot, és hát ma reggel akarnánk elvégezni a vizitációt a kegyelmed színe előtt. LEONATO �Végezzétek el magatok, s tegyetek jelentést, sietek, láthatjátok. LASPONYA Lesz itt olyan vizit!... LEONATO Igyatok egy kis bort búcsúzóra - Isten áldjon! Indul, de egy követ érkezése megállítja KÖVET Nagyuram, várnak, hogy a leányasszonyt a vőlegény elé vezesd. LEONATO Készen vagyok, indulok. Leonato távozik a követtel LASPONYA Eridj, jó komám, teremtsd elő a notóriust, mondd, hogy tentát, pennát hozzon a fogházba, mert meg kell azokat az embereket vizitelni. FURKÓ Mégpedig eszesen! LASPONYA Van itt ész, sose félj! (Fejét kopogtatva) Lakozik itt egysmás, amitől még rájuk gyön a viszketeg. Csak kerítsd elő azt a tudós írót, hogy atkát fektessen föl a megbiztatásunkról, s jelentkezzen nálam, a fogházban. Mindketten távoznak �NEGYEDIK FELVONÁS 1. szín Templom belseje. Jön Don Pedro, Don Juan, Leonato, Ferenc barát, Claudio, Benedetto, Hero, Beatrice stb. LEONATO Kérlek, Ferenc atyám, csak röviden - pusztán a szertartás szövegét - a házastársi kötelezettségekről majd beszélhetsz nekik később. FERENC Azért járultál-e ide, gróf uram, hogy ezzel a hölggyel házasságot köss? CLAUDIO Nem. LEONATO "Hogy házasságra lépj" - így helyes. Mert a házasságot te kötöd meg, atyám. FERENC Azért járultál-e ide, leányasszony, hogy a gróf úrral házasságra lépj. HERO Igen. FERENC Ha bármelyikőtök tud olyan titkos akadályról, mely a házasság megkötése ellen szól: üdvösségetekre kérlek, el ne hallgassátok! �CLAUDIO Tudsz-e ilyen akadályról, Hero? HERO Nem, uram. FERENC Tudsz-e ilyen akadályról, gróf uram? LEONATO Merészkedem felelni helyette: nem! CLAUDIO Mit nem merészelnek az emberek! Mit nem kockáztatnak! Mit nem tesznek napról napra, azt sem tudva, mit cselekszenek! BENEDETTO Mi ez? Vétó? Ezen csak nevetni lehet. Hahaha! CLAUDIO Állj félre most, barát! - Hadd kérdelek meg: Te, mint apa, jó szívvel, szabadon Hozzám adnád e szűzet, lányodat? LEONATO Oly szabadon, mint Isten adta nékem. CLAUDIO S méltó viszonzásul mit adhatok Ily drága, gazdag ajándék fejében? �DON PEDRO Semmit, ha őt nem küldöd vissza néki. CLAUDIO Jó hercegem, nemes hálára oktatsz. Tessék, vedd vissza lányod, Leonato! Barátodnak ne adj poshadt narancsot! Csak szín és máz a tisztesség a képén: Nézd, hogy pirul itt, mint egy szűz leány! Ó, hogy ravasz bűn mily fenséges és Komoly köntösbe burkolózhat el! Arcába szökkent vére nem bizonyság, Hogy tiszta, jó? Nem esküdnétek-e, Hogy hajadon leány? Pedig nem az! Már ismeri a páros ágy hevét! Nem szűzességtől: szégyentől pirul! LEONATO Mit mondasz, gróf?! CLAUDIO Azt, hogy nincs esküvő: Ne kössem lelkem címeres bujához! LEONATO Jó gróf, ha lányomat próbára téve, Ifjú szemérmét végül is legyőzted, És szűzessége meghódolt neked - �CLAUDIO Tudom, mit mondanál! Ha őt lebírtam, Csak úgy ölelt engem, mint férjurát Előre -, s így ez vétkét mentheti. Nem, Leonato! Még rossz szóval sem kísértettem őt, Csak illedelmes, gyöngéd szeretettel Vettem körül, mint testvér kishugát. HERO És én nem annak látszottam vajon? CLAUDIO Látszottál annak. Múljon már a látszat! Úgy tűnsz fel, mint a mennybolton Diána, Mint szűzi bimbó, mielőtt kifeslik De ereidben lángolóbb a vér, Mint Vénuszé, vagy buja barmoké, Mikor nekivadulva bakzanak! HERO Rosszul van tán a gróf, hogy így beszél? LEONATO Jó herceg, mért nem szólsz? DON PEDRO Mit szóljak én? Eljátszottam becsületem, mikor Barátom egy rimával fűztem össze. �LEONATO Jól hallok-e? Vagy mindezt álmodom? DON JUAN Jól hallasz, uram, és mindez való. BENEDETTO (félre) Ez volna esküvő? HERO "Való" - nagy Isten! CLAUDIO Én vagyok ez, ki itt áll, Leonato? S ez itt a herceg? S ez a herceg öccse? Ez Hero arca? S ez saját szemem? LEONATO Úgy van. De ezzel mit akarsz, uram? CLAUDIO Csak egy kérdést lányodnak hadd teszek föl. S te, mint az apja, gyengéd hatalommal Hass úgy reá, hogy igazat feleljen. LEONATO Úgy tégy, ha lányom vagy - parancsolom! �HERO Isten, segíts, mindenki ellenem van! Miféle vallatóra fogtok itt? CLAUDIO Úgy vallj, hogy jó neved szégyent ne valljon. HERO Hero vagyok - mocskolhat jog szerint Akárki váddal? CLAUDIO Csak Hero maga. Hero jó hírét - Hero söpri el. Kivel beszéltél tegnap éjszaka Az ablakodból éjfél s egy között? Ha még leány vagy, erre válaszolj! HERO Azon az órán senkivel se szóltam. DON PEDRO Akkor nem vagy leány. - Jó Leonato, Sajnálom, meg kell tudnod ezt... Hitemre: Testvéröcsém, s a megcsalt gróf, s magam Hallottuk, láttuk, hogy múlt éjszaka Beszélt az ablakából egy latorral, S az a pimasz szégyentelen kimondta, Hogy már ezerszer jöttek össze titkon Bünös találkozóra... �DON JUAN Fúj, gyalázat! Nincs erre név, nincs erre szó, uram! A nyelv bemocskolódnék tőle, míg Kimondaná. - Sajnálom, szép kisasszony, Hogy így megtévelyedtél! CLAUDIO Ó, Hero!... hogy milyen Hero lehetnél, Ha testi szépségednek csak felét Szivedbe és lelkedbe írva látnám! Isten veled, te rongy, te gyönyörű, Te tiszta szenny, te szennyes tisztaság! Szemem szerelmes ablakát bezárom; Gyanú remegjen pillám függönyén is, Hogy szépséged csak gyötrelmemre váljék, S ne bűvölhessen meg többé soha! LEONATO Nincs itt egy tőr, hogy döfné át szivem?!... Hero elájul BEATRICE Mi lel, kuzin?... mi ez?... hisz összerogysz! DON JUAN Menjünk haza. Ez a leleplezés Sziven találta. �Don Pedro, Don Juan és Claudio távozik BENEDETTO Hogy van a kisasszony? BEATRICE Jaj, félek, meghalt! - Bátyám, most segíts! Hero! Szólj, Hero! - Bátyám! - Benedetto! - LEONATO Sors, el ne vedd rólunk sújtó kezed! Halál a legszebb fátyol szégyenére Kivánhatunk-e mást. BEATRICE Hero! Kuzin! FERENC Éledj, leányom! LEONATO Még reám tekintesz? FERENC Miért ne?... LEONATO "Miért ne?" Nem harsogja szégyenét A földkerekség? Tagadhatja-e Lány-vérrel írott botrány-krónikáját? - �Ne élj, te Hero! Föl ne nyisd szemed! Ha azt hinném, hogy nem halsz gyors halált, S ujult erőd lebírja szégyened: Magam ragadnék fenyiteni fegyvert, S lecsapnék rád! - Fájt, hogy nincs több leányom? Lázadtam a fukar Természet ellen? - Jaj, egy is sok volt! Mért lett ez az egy is! Miért is volt a szemem fénye - ez? Fogadtam volna lányt örökbe inkább Egy koldus sarját, ingyen kegyelemből! Ha azt mocskolná így bűn és gyalázat, Mondhatnám: "Egy csepp vére sem sajátom, Bitang ágyékból származott e szégyen!" De ő - enyém! Dicsértem őt, szerettem, S kérkedtem véle. Oly nagyon enyém volt, Hogy ennen lényem nem volt oly sajátom, Mint ő maga! S ő, ő hullt oly mocsokba, Hogy nincs a nagy tengerben annyi hab, Amennyi még egyszer tisztára mossa S nincs annyi sója, hogy romlott husát Épen megóvja... BENEDETTO Csillapodj, uram! Én úgy ámulok - szóhoz sem jutok. BEATRICE Rágalmazzák hugom - lelkem reá! BENEDETTO �A hálótársad volt, kisasszonyom? BEATRICE Múlt éjjel nem, de tegnap éjjelig Hálótársam volt egy éven keresztül. LEONATO Ez bizonyíték, újabb bizonyíték, Arra, mi úgyis vas-szilárdan állt! Vagy hazug tán e két herceg, s hazug Claudio, ki úgy szerette őt, Hogy foltját könnyel mosta volna le? Hagyjuk magára: meg kell halnia. FERENC Figyelj egy percre rám! Azért hallgattam oly soká, s azért Engedtem ily szabad folyást a sorsnak, Mert egyre a leányasszonyt figyeltem: Ezerszer is bibor festette arcát, S ismét ezerszer ártatlan szemérem Angyal-fehérrel űzte el a pírt, S oly perzselő tűz lobbant föl szemében, Hogy elhamvadt a hazug rágalom, Amit rászúrt a két úr. Mondj bolondnak, Ne bízz többé se stúdiumaimban, Se próbájukban, a tapasztalásban, Ne bízz koromban, tisztemben, hitemben: Ha nem ártatlanul sújtotta le A drága lányt egy gyilkos tévedés. �LEONATO Atyám, az nem lehet. Látod magad: Még benne is van annyi becsület, Hogy nem terheli hamis esküvel Veszendő lelkét: ime, nem tagad! Mért próbálod hát őhelyette is Leplezni a mezítelen valót? FERENC Leányom, szólj: kivel vádoltak itt? HERO Az tudja, aki vádol: én magam nem, Ha van csak egy oly élő férfi is, Kit jobban ismerek, mint lánynak illik: Ne oldozzon fel irgalom! Atyám, Ha rám bizonyul az, hogy bárkivel Tilalmas órán volt társalkodásom, Vagy tegnap éjjel szóltam földi lénnyel; Ám sújtson átok, törvény, kínhalál! FERENC Szörnyű tévhitben élnek az urak. BENEDETTO Kettő közülük gáncstalan lovag. Ha ítéletük megtévedt ez egyszer: A fattyu Don Juannak műve lesz az, Ki mindig aljas terveket kohol. �LEONATO Nem tudhatom. Ha igaz volt a vád: Kezemmel tépem szét a lányt. Ha nem: Megemlegeti a rágalmazó, Bármily nagy úr! Nem száradt még ki vérem, Nem ette úgy meg vénség agyvelőmet, Nem fosztott úgy ki balsors mindenemből, S nem szórta úgy szét jó barátaim, Hogy föl ne keljek ilyen sérelemre: Lesz itt erő e karban, ész e fejben, Lesz fegyver bőven és barát sereggel Hogy bosszut álljak! FERENC Csillapodj le most, S fogadd vezérül jó tanácsomat. A herceg holtnak gondolhatta lányod: Zárd hát el egy időre nagy titokban, És hírleld azt, hogy valóban nem él. Látszatra rendezz nagy gyászünnepélyt; Családotoknak ősi kriptaboltját Diszítse gyászos sírirat, s legyen Hiánytalan a temetési pompa. LEONATO Mi sül ki ebből, és mi haszna ennek? FERENC Ha jól csinálod: így a rágalom �Helyébe bánat lép - s ez már haszon -, De célom nem csak ennyi: többre is Török, mikor mesterkedést ajánlok. Ha szörnyethalt a lány a vád alatt - Mert ehhez most már ragaszkodni kell -, Siratni, szánni, mentegetni fogják. Tapasztalat, hogy nem becsüljük azt, Mi megvan, bezzeg túlbecsüljük azt, Mit elvesztettünk! Rejtett kincseket Találunk benne, mikről azelőtt Semmit se tudtunk. Claudio is így jár: Ha hallja, hogy a vád megölte Herót, A lány előtte eszményként ragyog fel, És belopózik édességesen A képzeletnek titkos műhelyébe: Lényének minden drága porcikája Még ünnepibb köntösbe öltözik, S kápráztatóbb és élőbb lesz szemében, Mint az a lány, ki valósággal élt. Gyászolni fog a vőlegény, ha volt Szivében csak egy szikra szerelem, S emészti majd, hogy mért sújtott le vádja Még akkor is, ha esküszik reá! Tégy így tehát és jó sikert remélj: Lehet, hogy még szebb lesz a fordulat, Mint én vázoltam rögtönözve itt. S ha semmi más jót nem hoz is neked: Mihelyt e lány holtának híre megy, Elhamvad a fölzúdulás tüze. S ha mégsem úgy lesz: még elrejtheted �- Amint kicsorbult híre megkivánja Egy szent kolostorban, hová szemek, Nyelvek s lelkek haragja el nem ér. BENEDETTO Signor Leonato, hallgass a barátra! Tudod, hogy hercegünkhöz s Claudióhoz Igaz hűség és szeretet kötöz, Mégis - hitemre - ebben a dologban Oly titkosan s vigyázva járok el majd, Mint lélek jár a testben. LEONATO Vész sodor: Kapaszkodom egy szalmaszálba is. FERENC Helyes. Ne vesztegessünk több időt! A furcsa sebre furcsa ír kerül. Halj meg, hogy élj! Leányom, esküvőd Csak eltolódik - tarts ki emberül! Ferenc barát, Hero és Leonato távozik BENEDETTO Kisasszonyom, Beatrice... Te mindvégig sírtál. BEATRICE Sírtam, és fogok is sírni. �BENEDETTO Nem akarom, hogy sírj. BEATRICE Nem temiattad, a magam jószántából sírok. BENEDETTO Hiszem, hogy szép kuzinodat rágalom érte. BEATRICE Mit nem adnék annak, aki visszaszerzi jó hírét! BENEDETTO S van mód ilyen baráti szolgálatra? BEATRICE Mód éppen van, csak barát nincs. BENEDETTO Férfinak való munka volna? BEATRICE Férfinak való, de nem neked. BENEDETTO Semmit sem szeretek a világon annyira... mint téged. Nem furcsa? BEATRICE Olyan furcsa, mint minden ismeretlen. Én is éppígy mondhatnám, hogy semmit sem szeretek annyira, mint téged... de ne higgy nekem! Pedig nem hazudok. Nem árulok el semmit... És nem tagadok semmit... Nagyon fáj, ami a kuzinomat érte. �BENEDETTO Kardomra esküszöm, Beatrice, te szeretsz engem! BEATRICE Tilos az eskü, nyeld le! BENEDETTO Kardomra esküszöm, hogy szeretsz - és kardomat nyeletem le azzal, aki azt meri mondani, hogy én nem szeretlek. BEATRICE Nem nyelnéd inkább vissza azt, amit mondtál? BENEDETTO Nem nyelném én vissza, a legjobb mártással se - kimondom: szeretlek! BEATRICE Akkor az Isten bocsássa meg vétkem... BENEDETTO Mi a vétked, édes Beatrice? BEATRICE Jókor vágtál a szavamba, már majdnem kimondtam, hogy szeretlek. BENEDETTO Mondd ki teljes szívedből! BEATRICE Teljes szívem szeret - de kimondhatatlanul. �BENEDETTO Parancsolj velem: bármit megteszek érted! BEATRICE Öld meg Claudiót! BENEDETTO Azt a világért se! BEATRICE Megölsz azzal, hogy megtagadod - Isten veled! BENEDETTO Várj édes Beatrice! BEATRICE Ha itt vagyok se várok semmit... Nem szeretsz... Hadd menjek, eressz! BENEDETTO Beatrice... BEATRICE Esküszöm, megyek! BENEDETTO Elébb kössünk békét. BEATRICE Persze, bátorságosabb békét kötni velem, mint kardot kötni az ellenség ellen. �BENEDETTO Claudio ellenséged? BEATRICE Hát nem nyilvánvalóan cégéres gazember, aki az én véremet merte szidni, káromolni, meggyalázni? Volnék csak férfi!... Ilyet, hogy valaki hitegessen egy lányt, s aztán ahelyett, hogy hites feleségül venné, a násznép előtt támadjon rá szemérmetlen váddal, leplezetlen rágalommal, kíméletlen gonoszsággal... Nagy Isten! csak férfi volnék!... A piactéren falnám föl a szívét! BENEDETTO Hallgass meg, Beatrice! BEATRICE Még hogy férfival csevegett az ablakból!... Gyönyörű mese! BENEDETTO De Beatrice... BEATRICE A drága Hero - meghurcolva, meggyalázva, tönkretéve... BENEDETTO Beat... BEATRICE Hercegek és grófok! Persze, a herceg úr, mint tanú, s a "hercig úr", mint tabu - persze, ki merne nyúlni ilyen édes grófocskához! Ó, bár férfi volnék, hogy kiálljak vele! Vagy bár volna férfi a barátaim között, hogy kiálljon értem! De mivé olvadt a virtus? - nyájassággá! A vitézség? - nyálassággá! - Egyebe sincs már a férfinak, csak nyelve - de micsoda nyegle nyelve! - az most a hős Herkules, aki nagyot tud hazudni, s meg is esküszik rá!... Ha megveszek, se lehetek férfiember: elveszhetek hát kínomban, mint asszonyállat. �BENEDETTO Maradj, kedves Beatrice - száradjon le a kezem, ha nem szeretlek! BEATRICE Ne esküdözésre használd a kezed, ha szeretsz! BENEDETTO Szívvel-lélekkel vallod, hogy Claudio gróf rágalmazta Herót? BEATRICE Olyan biztos az, mint hogy szívem s lelkem van. BENEDETTO Elég. Fogadom, hogy kihívom. Hadd búcsúzzam kézcsókkal... E kézre mondom: drágán megfizet Claudio! Még hallasz rólam - aszerint ítélj meg! Menj, s tartsd a lelket kuzinodban! Nekem azt kell híresztelnem, hogy meghalt... Isten áldjon! Benedetto elsiet, Beatrice elvonul 2. szín Vallatószoba a törvényszéken. Jön Lasponya, Furkó s egy jegyző - mind hivatalos öltözékben. Az őrség bevezeti Corradót és Boracchiót LASPONYA Együtt van az egész törvényszéklet? FURKÓ Széket meg párnát a jegyző úr alá! �JEGYZŐ Kik a delikvensek? LASPONYA Mi vagyunk itt minden, én meg a kollégám. FURKÓ Úgy is van. Mi kaptunk ordenárét, hogy lefolytassuk az inváziót. JEGYZŐ De kik a tettesek? Álljanak a strázsamester úr elé! LASPONYA Az ám, álljanak elébe! - Mi a neved, komám? BORACCHIO Boracchio. LASPONYA Tessék beírni, hogy "Boracchio". - Hát a te neved, fickó? CORRADO Én nemesember vagyok, kérem, s a nevem: Corrado. LASPONYA Írjad: "Corrado nemzetes úr." - Félitek-é az Istent, uraim? CORRADO BORACCHIO �Reméljük, uram. LASPONYA Írjad: remélik, hogy félik... De előre írd az Istent, mer Isten ments, hogy Isten elmaradjon az ilyen zsiványok mögött! - No, urak, hát bizonyítékunk van rája, hogy alighanem csaló gazemberek vagytok, és hát kis híján eztet gondoljuk tirólatok, rövidre fogva. Erre mit feleltek? CORRADO Azt, uram, hogy nem vagyunk azok. LASPONYA Csuda agyafúrt fráter ez, mondhatom - no de majd túljárok én az eszin! - Most te gyere ide, fickó, súgok valamit! Aszondom, hogy aszondják, hogy csaló gazemberek vagytok. BORACCHIO Csak azt mondhatom, uram, hogy nem vagyunk azok. LASPONYA No jól van, állj csak oda félre... - Isten úgyse, mind a kettő ugyanazt vallja! Leírtad, hogy aszondják, hogy nem gazemberek? JEGYZŐ Strázsamester uram, nem jól indul így a vizsgálat. Az őröket kellene kikérdezni, mert azok vádolják őket. LASPONYA Az ám, biz' isten, az lesz a legfizikusabb útja-módja... Győjjön az őrség! - Biztos urak, megbiztatlak benneteket a herceg nevében: vádoljátok ezeket az embereket. ELSŐ ŐR Ez az ember kibökte, hogy Don Juan - a herceg testvéröccse - gazember. �LASPONYA Írjad: "Don Juan - gazember..." No, ez nyilvánvaló lázadás, illyet mondani, hogy egy herceg testvéröccse gazember! BORACCHIO Strázsamester uram... LASPONYA Kusti, fickó! Nem szeretem a képedet, annyit mondok! JEGYZŐ Mi egyebet hallottatok még tőle? MÁSODIK ŐR Bizony, még azt is, hogy ezer dukátot kapott Don Juantól, amiért hamis váddal Hero kisasszony becsületére tört. LASPONYA Ez nyilvánvaló betöréses lopás, a javából! FURKÓ Engem úgyse, az! JEGYZŐ Mit hallottatok még, fiam? ELSŐ ŐR Még azt, hogy Claudio gróf erősködött, és szavára fogadta, hogy ő bizony legyalázza Hero kisasszonyt az egész gyülekezet előtt, s el nem veszi feleségül! LASPONYA Gazember! Ezért örök váltsággal lakolsz! �JEGYZŐ Hát még? MÁSODIK ŐR Ennyit hallottunk. JEGYZŐ Több ez, semhogy letagadhatnátok, urak. Don Juan ma reggel titokban szélnek eredt, Hero valóban így vádoltatott meg, így taszíttatott el, és így halt bele fájdalmába. Strázsamester uram, kötözzétek le őket, s vezessétek Leonato elé! Én előremegyek, s bemutatom a vallomásukat! (Távozik) LASPONYA Rajta, lekötelezni őket! FURKÓ Le ám - a kezüket! CORRADO Coki, tökfej! LASPONYA Magasságos Isten!... Hol a jegyző? Ezt írja le, hogy a herceg úr rendőre "tökfej"!... Kötelet rá! - Te gané, te! CORRADO Kotródj innen! Szamár vagy, szamár... LASPONYA Hát már a sarzsimat se repetálod? a koromat se repetálod? Ó, csak volna itt a jegyző, hogy szamárnak írna le! Uraim, ezt ne feledjétek, hogy szamár vagyok! Jegyezzétek meg, ha nincs is lejegyezve, hogy szamár vagyok! Te gazember, te, rád bizonyítom én hites tanúkkal, hogy �korrekt vagy tetőtől talpig! Én pedig bölcs ember vagyok, s mi több, hivatalos személy, s mi több, háztulajdonos, s mi több, olyan szép derék darab hús, mint senki itt, Messinában... Ollyan, aki igenis törvénytudó, igenis módos ember, igenis nagybérlő, s igenis, megvan a maga két rend ruhája meg mindene takarosan! - Vezessétek el! - Ó, csak írásban lefektették volna, hogy szamár vagyok! Mind elvonulnak ÖTÖDIK FELVONÁS 1. szín Leonato háza előtt. Jön Leonato és Antonio ANTONIO Ha így folytatod, elveszted magad. Nem bölcs dolog, hogy nem törődsz magaddal, Csak bánatoddal. LEONATO Hagyd el ezt a leckét! Oly hasztalan zuhog fülembe, mint Szitába víz. Ne adj nekem tanácsot! Ne duruzsoljon senki így fülembe, Míg nincs olyan fájdalma, mint nekem! Mutass apát, ki így szerette lányát, S ki boldogságát így vesztette el: Ám intsen engem türelemre ő! Vesd egybe gondját az én bánatommal, Mérd össze sorsunk ízről ízre úgy, Hogy kínra kín és bajra baj feleljen, �Egyforma sorban, rendben, itt is, ott is: S ha ő mosolyog, szakállát simítva, Ő kurjant és kacag nyögés helyett, Ő kúrálgatja bölcs szóval a kínt, Ő fojtja borba búját fáklyafénynél Ám jöjjön: tőle tanulok türelmet! De ilyen ember nincs. Az emberek Tanácsot, vígaszt csak oly bajra tudnak, Mit nem éreznek, Ha megízlelik: Csak kín marad a jó tanács helyén, Mely gyógyszert ígért őrjöngésre is, Selyemszállal fékezte a dühöngőt, S haláltusát szavakkal orvosolt. Mindenki tud türelmet prédikálni Bú terhe alatt kétrét görnyedőknek, De senkiben sincs ugyaníly morál, S erő, amikor mind ez a teher Saját vállán van. Tartsd meg jó tanácsod: Túlsírja kínom prédikációdat. ANTONIO Gyermek vagy férfi - ebben egyre megy. LEONATO Kérlek, hogy hallgass. Hús és vér vagyok; S még filozófusok közt sincs olyan, Ki csak fogfájást békén tűrne el Bár isteneknek nyelvén írja meg, Hogy sorsnak, kínnak fittyet hányni illik. �ANTONIO Ne végy magadra minden szenvedést: Viseljék terhét megbántóid is! LEONATO Most bölcsen szóltál: ezt meg kell fogadnom. Azt súgja lelkem, Hero tiszta volt... Hadd tudja ezt meg Claudio, s a herceg, S mindenki, aki rágalmazni merte! Don Pedro és Claudio közeleg ANTONIO Ni, hogy siet a herceg, s Claudio! DON PEDRO Jó'stét! Jó'stét! CLAUDIO Jóestét, uraim! Sietnek tovább LEONATO Egy szóra csak... DON PEDRO Sietnék, Leonato. LEONATO �Siettek, fenség? Akkor Isten áldjon! Épp most siettek! De hisz - egyre megy. DON PEDRO Ne kötekedj velünk, derék öreg. ANTONIO Ha kötekedve kell helyt állani: Itt egyikünk ma elterül. CLAUDIO Ki bántja? LEONATO Te bántasz engem, te farizeus, te! Csak ne tedd kezed a kardmarkolatra: Nem félek tőled. CLAUDIO Törjön le kezem, Ha ősz korodnak félni ád okot! Véletlen volt az, hogy kardomra tettem. LEONATO Elég! Ne tréfálj itt, ne gúnyolódj! Nem agyalágyult vén bolond beszél; Nem éveimnek bástyája mögül Dicsekszem, hogy ki voltam, és mi lenne, Ha agg nem volnék! Tudd meg, Claudio: Úgy megsértetted szűz lányom s magam, �Hogy félretéve higgadtságomat, Ősz fejjel, s évek terhével rakottan, Kihívlak, állj helyt - férfi, férfi ellen! Azt mondom: meggyaláztad szűz leányom! Rágalmad tőrét forgattad szivében, S pihen már ősök csontjai között, Olyan kriptában, mely szégyent nem ismert, Amíg gazságod vádat nem koholt! CLAUDIO Gazságom?! LEONATO Az! - kimondom kereken! DON PEDRO Nem jól beszélsz, öreg. LEONATO Uram! uram! Bebizonyítom - s vére lesz pecsétem -, Ha még oly szépen s mesterkedve vív is, S mégúgy virít is vérmes ifjusága! CLAUDIO Hagyj engem békén: nincs dolgom veled. LEONATO Csak így leráznál? Lányom merted ölni: Ha engem ölsz meg, fickó, férfit ölsz! �ANTONIO Kettőnket öljön - férfimunka lesz Ha lesz... De elsőbb eggyel boldoguljon! Közéjük áll, s kardot ránt No, kard ki, kard! - Álljon ki énvelem! Gyerünk, kölyök! Gyerünk, gyerünk, kölyök! Elhúzom én a nótád, csak cselezz El én, nemesi becsületszavamra! LEONATO De testvér... ANTONIO Hagyj! Isten látja, kishugom szerettem S megölték rágalommal senkiházik, Kik úgy mernek csak férfival kiállni, Amint én kígyót nyelvén fogni meg! Majmok, pulyák, szájhősök, kóficok! LEONATO Antonio... ANTONIO Maradj békén! Eh, jól ismerem őket! Megmértem súlyuk hajszálpontosan! Pöffeszkedő, piperkőc ficsurak, Hazudnak, csalnak, mocskolnak, gyaláznak, �Komédiáznak, vágnak bősz pofákat, Eldurrogatnak féltucat nagyesküt, Hogy átdöfnék ellenfelük - ha mernék... És ezzel vége! LEONATO Testvér! ANTONIO Eh - elég! Ne szólj belé, ezt elintézem én. DON PEDRO Urak, mi nem szeretnénk ingerelni... (Leonatóhoz) Az én szivem is fáj lányod halálán; De esküszöm, hogy igaz volt a vád, És jó bizonyság szólt mellette nyilván. LEONATO Uram, uram... DON PEDRO Nem hallgatlak. LEONATO Nem-é? Gyerünk innen, meghallgat minket ő még! ANTONIO �Meg ám! S valaki megkeserüli! Leonato és Antonio a házba vonul. Benedetto jön DON PEDRO No nézd csak, itt jön az, akit kerestünk! CLAUDIO Mi újság, signor? BENEDETTO Üdvözöllek, fenség! DON PEDRO Isten hozott, signor! Majdnem arra érkeztél, hogy szétválassz egy majdnem-összecsapást. CLAUDIO Már azon voltunk, hogy kipróbáljuk, le tudja-e harapni az orrunkat két fogatlan vénember. DON PEDRO Leonato meg a bátyja. Ehhez mit szólsz? Nem lettünk volna párviadalra ifjak a két vén gyerekhez? BENEDETTO Igaztalan perben nincs értelme a vitézkedésnek. Éppen kettőtöket kereslek. CLAUDIO Mi is téged kerestünk már mindenütt, mert nagyon megszállt bennünket a melankólia: azt szeretnénk, ha te űznéd el. Nem villogtatnád az eszed? �BENEDETTO Itt van, amit villogtassak, hüvelyében. Kihúzzam? DON PEDRO Övön hordod az eszed? CLAUDIO Övön senki sem hordja az eszét, de van, aki övön alul szúr vele. Sebaj, húzd csak elő a szerszámod - úgy biztatlak, mint valami hegedűst - mert mulatni szeretnék. DON PEDRO Szavamra, sápadt! - Beteg vagy? Vagy haragszol? CLAUDIO Szedd össze magad, barátom! Nagy a feje, búsuljon a ló - de te vagy olyan legény, hogy lóvá tedd a búbánatot. BENEDETTO Uram, sziporkázásban is kiállok veled bajra, ha épp énvelem gyűlt meg a bajod. Válassz új témát, kérlek. CLAUDIO Püff neki! Adjatok markába hozzá új bökőt, mert ez a legutóbbi beletörött a bökésbe. DON PEDRO Esküszöm, egyre sápadtabb! Csakugyan dühös lehet. CLAUDIO Ha úgy van, tudja ő, mi a teendő. BENEDETTO Súghatnék egy szót a füledbe? �CLAUDIO Isten ments, hogy ebből kihívás legyen! BENEDETTO (fojtott hangon) Rongy ember vagy - nem tréfálok. Hajlandó vagyok kiállni, ahogy óhajtod, amivel óhajtod, amikor óhajtod. Állj helyt, vagy a szemedbe mondom, hogy: gyáva. Megöltél egy drága hölgyet: haláláért még meglakolsz. (Fennhangon) Hadd hallom válaszod! CLAUDIO Állok elébe. Úgyis kívántam már valami jó mulatságot. DON PEDRO Lakoma készül, lakoma? CLAUDIO Az ám! - Köszönöm szépen - épp most hívott meg borjúfőre és kappanpecsenyére. Csorbuljon ki a pengém, ha föl nem vágom derekasan! - Süketfajd nem lesz? BENEDETTO Ficánkol az eszed, uram, mert nem sokat nyom a latban. DON PEDRO Elmondom, hogy magasztalta Beatrice az eszedet múltkorában. Azt találtam mondani, hogy szellemed finom. "Finom ám - vágja rá -, véknyan csörgedezik." - "Nem - mondom én -, nagy szellem." - "Az ám - feleli -, otrombanagy." - "Nem - mondom én -, jó esze van." - "Jó ám feleli -, mert nem sok vizet zavar." "Nem - mondom én -, páratlan koponya." - "Páratlan hát mondja -, mert egy kereke hiányzik." - "Dehogyis - mondom én -, hisz több nyelven beszél." "Meghiszem azt - mondja -, amire hétfőn este megesküszik, azt kedd reggel letagadja: két nyelve van, sőt kétágú nyelve!" Így kiforgatta egy óra alatt minden virtusodat; de végül csak fölsóhajtott, s oda lyukadt ki, hogy te vagy a legremekebb férfi egész Itáliában! CLAUDIO �Erre aztán tiszta szívből sírva fakadt - s hozzátette, hogy neki ugyan édesmindegy. DON PEDRO Így volt, annyi szent, de hogyha nem gyűlölné halálosan Benedettót, akkor eszeveszetten szeretné. Az öregúr lánya mindent elmondott. CLAUDIO Mindent, mindent! S tegyük hozzá: Isten szeme látta, mikor elbújt a kertben. DON PEDRO De vajon mikor rakhatjuk föl a vad bika szarvát a megszelídített Benedetto homlokára? CLAUDIO S alája a feliratot: "Itt látható Benedetto mint házasember?" BENEDETTO Isten veled, fiú! Ne feledd, mit mondtam. Itt hagylak: folytasd csak ezt az anyámasszonykatonája-fecsegést! Úgy villogtatod a sziporkáidat, mint a nagylegények a kardjukat, de a sziporka - hál' istennek - senkiben sem tesz kárt. Fenség, köszönöm sok jóindulatodat: meg kell válnom kíséretedtől. Öcséd, a fattyú, Messinából megszökött. Közös erővel megöltetek egy ártatlan, drága hölgyet. Ezzel a csupasz állú ifiúrral még találkozunk - addig is: béke vele! (Távozik) DON PEDRO Ez komolyan beszélt! CLAUDIO De milyen komolyan! S fogadni mernék: Beatrice szerelme szállt a fejébe. DON PEDRO Kihívott párbajra? CLAUDIO �Ki ő, kereken. DON PEDRO Mondhatom, csinos figura az ember, mikor zekéjét, nadrágját magára veszi, de az eszét otthon hagyja! CLAUDIO Óriás a majomhoz mérve: de azért a majom valóságos professzor az ilyen emberekhez képest. DON PEDRO De csendesedj most, hadd szállok magamba... Nem azt mondta, hogy az öcsém megszökött? Jön Lasponya, Furkó és az őrség Corradóval és Boracchióval LASPONYA Gyertek csak, urak, ha az Igazság istenasszonya ráncba nem szed benneteket, hát akkor akár el is hajíthassa azt a híres mérlegjit! Akármilyen fene képmutatók vagytok is, mi majd a képetekre mászunk! DON PEDRO Mi ez?... Öcsém két embere - megkötözve! Boracchio az egyik?... CLAUDIO Tudakold, fenség, hogy mit vétettek? DON PEDRO Őrség! Mit vétettek ezek az emberek? LASPONYA Hát, uram, először is hamis tanúvallomást tettek, de a tetejibe még valótlan hazugságot is állítottak; másodszor is hitelvrontást követtek el; s hatodszor és utoljára rágalom alá helyeztek egy kisasszonyt; harmadszor pediglen igazolatlanul bizonyítottak; s végezetül - hazudós rongy emberek. �DON PEDRO Először is azt kérdem: mit követtek el? Harmadszor azt kérdem: mi a vétkük? Hatodszor és utoljára: miért vannak fogságban? S végezetül: mi a vád ellenük? CLAUDIO Derekas taglalás: a megadott beosztás szerint. Szavamra mondom: egyértelmű, világos gondolatmenet. DON PEDRO Ki ellen vétettetek, emberek, hogy így fognak benneteket vallatóra? Ez a tudós strázsamester olyan akkurátus, hogy nem lehet eligazodni a szaván. Mi a vétketek? BORACCHIO Kegyes herceg, hadd legyen vége a vallatásnak. Tefenséged hallgasson ki - s ám öljön meg a gróf! Megtévesztettem tefenséged szemét is: de amit még a ti bölcsességetek sem vett észre, azt ezek az együgyű bolondok fölfedezték. Kihallgatták szavam ma éjjel, mikor ennek az embernek elmondtam, hogyan bujtott fel testvéröcséd, Don Juan, Hero kisasszony megrágalmazására... meg amikor elmondtam, hogyan vezették tefenségedet a kertbe, csak hogy lássa Margarétát Herónak öltözve, s engem, amint édeskedem vele... s azt is, amikor rátértem, hogyan fogadkozott a gróf, hogy megszégyeníti Herót az esküvőjén... Gazságom jegyzőkönyvbe került, s inkább a vérem pecsételje meg, mint hogy szégyenszemre újabb gazsággal tetézzem! A kisasszonyt sírba vitte a gazdám meg a magam hamis vádaskodása... Száz szónak is egy a vége: nem kívánok én már semmit, csak azt, ami gazembernek kijár. DON PEDRO Nem úgy hasít ez beléd, mint a kard? CLAUDIO Mint mérget ittam mindenegy szavát! DON PEDRO Hát testvéröcsém bujtott erre föl? BORACCHIO �Ő - és busásan megfizette munkám. DON PEDRO A velejéig áruló bitang! Meg is szökött a gonosztett után! CLAUDIO Te drága Hero! Képed úgy ragyog fel, Mint akkor, amikor beléd szerettem! LASPONYA Na, vigyétek innen a dilikvenseket! Azóta már a mi notórius jegyzőnk kellő reformációt adott signor Leonatónak a kázusról... Csak egyet el ne felejtsetek, urak: mihelyt lesz rá érkezéstek, foglaljátok írásba, hogy szamár vagyok! FURKÓ Ehol ni, gyön nagyurunk, signor Leonato meg a jegyző! Jön a házból Leonato és Antonio a jegyzővel LEONATO Melyik az a gaz? Hadd nézem meg arcát, Hogy ha még egyszer látok ilyen embert, Jól elkerüljem! Melyik köztük az? BORACCHIO Ha megrontód kivánod látni: rám nézz! LEONATO Te vagy, te pribék, ki leheleteddel Megölted tiszta lányom? �BORACCHIO Én, csak én. LEONATO Nem csak te, gaz! Magad rágalmazod most. Emitt áll még két tisztelt férfiú... S egy elszelelt, ki szintén cinkosod volt. Urak! köszönöm leányom halálát. Jegyezzétek föl hőstetteitek közt! Ezt jól csináltátok, tagadhatatlan. CLAUDIO Nem is tudom, hogyan kérjem türelmed... De szólanom kell. Te válaszd ki bosszud! Találj bünömre olyan büntetést, Milyet kivánsz. Bármit vétettem is, Csak tévedésből... DON PEDRO Úgy éljek, hogy én is! De hogy megenyhüljön e jó öreg, Vállalnék bármily súlyos büntetést. Mit ő kiszab rám. LEONATO Nem szabhatom rád, hogy lányom föléleszd, Az lehetetlen. Azt kérem csupán: Hirdessétek ki egész Messinában, Mily ártatlan halt el Hero! - Te meg �- Ha még megihlet bánatos szerelmed A kriptájára sírverset szegezz, És énekeld azt csontjai felett Az éjszakában... S jöjj házamba reggel: Ha nem lehettél vőmmé, légy öcsémmé! Van egy leánya testvéremnek is: Szakasztott mása elhalt magzatomnak, S mindkettőnk után ő lesz örökös... Nyújtsd néki azt, mit Herónak kináltál S kialszik bosszúm. CLAUDIO Ó, nemes nagyúr! Nagylelküséged könnyekre fakaszt. Ajánlatod hálásan fogadom: Tiéd az árva Claudio! LEONATO Várom tehát holnapra jöttödet. Ma este búcsuzom. Még ezt a gazt És Margarétát szembesíttetem. Úgy látom én, a lány is cinkosuk: Bátyád bérelte föl. BORACCHIO Lelkemre, nem! Nem tudta, mit tesz, míg velem beszélt. Ártatlanul és jóhiszemüen Komédiázott - tanusíthatom. �LASPONYA Azonföllyül, meghiggyed, uram, még az sincs fölróva, hogy ez a dilikvens, ez a bűnöző itten engemet szamárnak titulált. Kérlek alássan, hogy majd errül is tétessék említés az ítéletben. Meg aztán az őrség hallotta, hogy ezek egy bizonyos Huncutról povedáltak. Aszondják, az a fülibe egy karikán kulcsot meg lakatot visel, és Isten neviben pénzt vág ki az emberekbül hanem aztat sohanapján adja meg nekijek! Úgyhogy most már a népek igencsak megkeményítették a szívüket, s nem adnak egy fabatkát se az Isten nevire. Kérlek alássan, errül is faggassák ki! LEONATO Köszönöm gondod s tisztes fáradozásod. LASPONYA Tekegyelmed úgy szól, mint a háládatos és tisztességtudó ifjabb degenerációhoz illik dicsértessék érte az Úr neve! LEONATO Ezt tedd el fáradságodért. LASPONYA Isten adjon ezerannyit! LEONATO Elmehetsz. Leveszem válladról a foglyok gondját - köszönöm. LASPONYA Megrögzött cinkost hagyok itt tekegyelmeddel, s kérlek, uram, hogy te magad fenyítsd meg másoknak okulására. Isten áldja kegyelmedet, minden jót kívánok kegyelmednek, Isten tartson meg egészségben, ezennel alázatosan hozzájárulok a távozáshoz - és ha kívánatos ama boldog találkozás, hát csak Isten őrizzen attul is. Gyerünk, szomszéd! Lasponya és Furkó távozik LEONATO �Ég áldjon, urak, holnap reggelig! ANTONIO Ég áldjon! S holnap jöttök majd, urak! DON PEDRO Úgy lesz. CLAUDIO Ma éjjel Herót gyászolom. Don Pedro és Claudio távozik LEONATO El a gazokkal! Szóljon Margaréta: Hogyan sodródott össze egy latorral? Leonato és Antonio a házba vonul; követi őket a jegyző s az őrség a foglyokkal 2. szín Leonato kertje. Jön Margaréta és Benedetto BENEDETTO Kérlek, édes Margaréta, járj a kezemre, segíts hozzá, hogy szólhassak Beatricével. MARGARÉTA Írsz érte egy magasztaló szonettet szépségemről? �BENEDETTO Írok én, s úgy fölmagasztallak, Margaréta, hogy élő ember föléd nem kerülhet - rá is szolgálsz, igazán. MARGARÉTA Hogy ne kerüljön fölém élő ember? Hát örökké magányosan kucorogjak a sutban? BENEDETTO Jó szerszám az eszed: gyors, mint az agár, s harap is. MARGARÉTA Bezzeg a te szerszámod tompa, mint a játéktőr: bököd, de nem sért. BENEDETTO Lovagias szerszám, Margaréta: lányt nem akar sérteni... Kérlek, hívd már Beatricét - inkább megadom magam, s lábadhoz teszem még a pajzsom is. MARGARÉTA Inkább a bökőd ajánlanád: pajzsunk nekünk is van. BENEDETTO Ha van, csak a bökő elé tartsátok - úgy veszedelmes a női szerszám. MARGARÉTA No, küldöm hát Beatricét - gondolom, neki is van lába. BENEDETTO Ha van, szedi majd szaporán! Margaréta bemegy a házba. �Benedetto énekel Ámor isten, Fönt a mennyben, Ismer engem, ismer engem, Tudja, míly bajban vagyok... ...Bajban ám, ha énekelni kell... De ha szerelemről van szó, mondhatom, Leánder, a legendás úszóbajnok, vagy Troilus, a kerítők legelső kenyéradója, meg mind az a rengeteg sok hajdani szoknyabolond - akiknek neve oly felségesen görög a jámbusoknak sima útjain - nem, egy se kente-fente össze magát úgy a szerelem lépével, mint én, én szegény fejem! Rímekben, bizony, el nem zenghetem - próbáltam... "Kedves" - erre csak azt találom, hogy: "nedves" pelenkás rím! "Gyötör" - erre meg az vág, hogy "ökör" - marha rím! "Oskola" - erre csak az ugrik be: "ostoba" - bugyuta rím! Csupa szerencsétlen kádencia! Nem, hiába, nem születtem poéták csillaga alatt. Én nem tudok ünnepélyes szólamokban udvarolni... Jön Beatrice Édes Beatrice, hát jössz, ha hívlak? BEATRICE Jövök, signor, s megyek, mihelyt kívánod. BENEDETTO Ó, akkor maradj! BEATRICE "Akkor" maradjak? Most hát búcsúzom. De mielőtt megindulok, hadd indulok meg azon is, amit Claudióval végeztél - azért jöttem, hogy ezt halljam! BENEDETTO Kemény szavakat hallott tőlem - hadd csókollak hát meg! �BEATRICE A szó csak elszáll, mint a szél - bolond lukból bolond szél fú - bolond lukat nem csókolok, tehát megyek - csók nélkül. BENEDETTO Kiforgatod szavaimat azzal a forgószéleszeddel! De hadd mondom meg világosan: Claudio azóta megkapta kihívásomat, s hamarosan én is megkapom válaszát! - vagy ha nem: szemébe vágom, hogy gyáva! De most mondd meg, kérlek: melyik rossz tulajdonságom gyújtott szerelemre? BEATRICE Valamennyi. Mert azok együtt a rossznak olyan jól szervezett birodalmát alkotják, hogy abban egy talpalatnyi hely sem jut jó tulajdonságnak. Hát te melyik jó tulajdonságom miatt szenveded el a szerelmet? BENEDETTO Elszenvedem! Ez a szó telitalálat! Bizony, elszenvedem a szerelmet: akaratom ellenére szerettem beléd. BEATRICE Szíved ellen, gondolom. Ha ellenségnek tekinted szíved: hadd gyűlölöm meg én is! - mert nem venném a lelkemre, hogy szeressem azt, amit barátom gyűlöl. BENEDETTO Te is, én is, túlontúl okosak vagyunk ahhoz, hogy békésen valljunk szerelmet. BEATRICE Ebből a vallomásból nem sok okosság derül ki! Húsz bölcs ember közt egy sem akad, aki önmagát dicsérné. BENEDETTO Régi, régi mondás ez, Beatrice, jámbor eleink korában járta jó szomszédok között. Aki manapság nem csináltatja meg a síremlékét még életében, annak emlékezete csak addig él, míg a harang szól, s az özvegy sír. �BEATRICE S az meddig tart, mit gondolsz? BENEDETTO Micsoda kérdés! Egy óráig a jajveszékelés, s még egy negyedóráig a könnyezés - ha náthás nő. Épp ezért tanácsos, hogy a bölcs - ha csak a lelkiismeret férge nem furdalja - maga kürtölje világgá a tulajdon érdemeit! Amint én is teszem. Ennyit az öndicséretről. Magam tanúsítom, hogy rászolgálok! De mondd már hogy van kuzinod? BEATRICE Nagyon rosszul. BENEDETTO S te hogy vagy? BEATRICE Én is nagyon rosszul. BENEDETTO Bízz Istenben, szeress és gyógyulj meg! Megyek már, mert futva jön valaki. Ursula sietve jön URSULA Kisasszonyom, siess bátyáduradhoz: nagy kavarodás van otthon. Kiderült, hogy Hero kisasszonyt hamisan vádolták, a herceget meg Claudiót lépre csalták... Don Juan főzte ki az egészet, de ő maga megszökött... Kérlek, jöjj azonnal! BEATRICE Nem jössz velem, signor, hírt hallani? �BENEDETTO Szívedben éljek, öledben haljak, szemedbe vesszek! Persze hogy megyek veled a bácsikádhoz! Mind bemennek a házba 3. szín A kripta előtt. Don Pedro, Claudio és kisérőik gyertyával jönnek - velük Baltazár s a zenészek CLAUDIO Ez Leonato kriptaboltja itt? EGY ÚR Ez, jó uram. CLAUDIO (egy pergamenről olvassa) Sírba vitte rágalom Herót, aki itt pihen. Úrrá lett a vádakon, Holt porában, fényesen. Életében lepte sár, Most köríti fénysugár. Zengje hírét versezet, Majd ha én már nem leszek! (A kriptára tűzi a pergament, majd int Baltazárnak) Most zene szóljon, énekeld a gyászdalt! �BALTAZÁR (énekel) Éj, fedezd el bűnömet! Jaj, megöltük szűzedet! Ünnepélyes gyászmenet Zengjen könnyes éneket! Éjfél, bús anyánk, Jöjj, borúlj le ránk, Gyászosan, gyászosan... Ásíts, kriptabolt, Sírba tér a holt, Gyászosan, gyászosan... CLAUDIO Elnyugodhat hűlt porod, Évről évre gyászolok. DON PEDRO Urak, jó reggelt! Fáklyát oltsatok! Már farkas nem jár, virradat dereng, S oszlatja szét a napszekér előtt Álmos Keletnek ritkuló homályát. Köszönjük, elmehettek: Isten áldjon! CLAUDIO Urak, bucsúzzunk: ki-ki elvonul. DON PEDRO Mi is menjünk, és öltsünk más ruhát: �Vár Leonato még ma délelőtt. CLAUDIO A gyászra nász jön, s szebb jövőbe lát A szem, mely eddig könnytől gyöngyözött. Mind elvonulnak 4. szín Csarnok Leonato házában. Jön Leonato, Antonio, Benedetto, Ferenc barát, Hero, Beatrice, Margaréta, Ursula FERENC Nem megmondtam, hogy ártatlan leányod? LEONATO Ártatlan Claudio s a herceg is: Egy megtévesztés áldozatai. De Margaréta részes volt az ügyben - Bár akaratlanul vétett -, amint Ez kiderült a vizsgálat során. ANTONIO Boldog vagyok, hogy minden jóra fordult. BENEDETTO De én is, mert adott szavam szerint �Meg kellett volna vívnom Claudióval. LEONATO Nos, lányom, és ti is, nemes komornák, Húzódjatok be egy másik szobába, S ha hívunk, jertek majd álarcosan! Ez órában jön Claudio s a herceg Amint igérték... (Antonióhoz) Tudod tisztedet: Testvéred lányának leszel ma apja, S az ifju Claudiónak szánod őt. ANTONIO Szemrebbenés nélkül hozzáadom. BENEDETTO Atyám, kérnem kell majd szolgálatod... FERENC Miben, signor? BENEDETTO Hogy egybeköss... vagy gúzsba... így vagy úgy... - Signor Leonato... úgy igaz, signor, Hogy húgod jó szemmel tekint reám... LEONATO S lányom szemelt ki néki. Így igaz! �BENEDETTO S én rá szerelmes szemmel visszanézek. LEONATO S a herceg, Claudio meg jómagam Szemed szemmel tartottuk. Mit kivánsz hát? BENEDETTO Talányos volt, amit mondtál, signor. Hogy mit kivánok?... Hogy te is kivált Kivánd, amit kivánok... hogy ma itt A házasok tisztes sorába lépjek (Ferenchez fordul) Ehhez kérem segítséged, barát! LEONATO Szívből kivánom. FERENC S én segítelek. De jön már hercegünk és Claudio! Jön Don Pedro és Claudio kísérő urakkal DON PEDRO Szép jó reggelt e szép gyülekezetnek! LEONATO Szép jó reggelt fenségednek s a grófnak! �(Claudióhoz) Vártunk reád. Rászántad hát magad, Hogy testvérem lányával frigyre lépsz ma? CLAUDIO Állnám szavam, ha szerecsen leány is. LEONATO Hívd őt, Antonio, már itt a pap. Antonio távozik DON PEDRO Jó reggelt, Benedetto! Ej, mi lelt, Hogy február borong a képeden, Merő zimankó, felleg és vihar? CLAUDIO A szilaj bika juthatott eszébe... Ne félj, aranygomb lesz a szarvadon, S egész Európa ünnepelni fog, Mint Juppitert Európa ősanyánk, Midőn a szent barom hátára szállt! BENEDETTO Csodásan bőgött Juppiter-bika, S ilyen bikának kellett hágnia Atyád párját is, mert a borja, lám, Szádon keresztül épp úgy bőg reám. �Antonio visszatér az álarcos hölgyekkel CLAUDIO Még számolunk! - De rám is számadás vár. Melyik hölgy az én jövendőbelim? ANTONIO Ő az - s ezennel átadom neked. CLAUDIO Enyém tehát. - Kedves, mutasd meg arcod! LEONATO Azt nem lehet, míg kézen fogva őt, Nem esküszöl meg pap előtt vele. CLAUDIO Nyújtsd hát kezed e szent barát előtt: Hites társad vagyok, ha elfogadsz. HERO Én voltam első asszonyod, míg éltem S te voltál első férjem - míg szerettél. (Leveszi álarcát) CLAUDIO Egy másik Hero! HERO Az vagyok valóban. �Egy Herót szennybe öltek. Élek én. S amily való, hogy élek: lány vagyok. DON PEDRO A régi Hero! Hero, aki meghalt! LEONATO Csak addig volt ő holt, míg élt a vád. FERENC Véget vetek megdöbbenéseteknek: Mihelyt a szertartásnak vége lesz, Elmondom bőven, Hero holta mint volt. De addig - szokjátok meg a csodát! S vonuljunk most a kápolnába tüstént! BENEDETTO Lassan, barát! Melyik Beatrice? BEATRICE (leveszi álarcát) Engem neveznek úgy. Nos, mit kivánsz? BENEDETTO Te nem szeretsz? BEATRICE Nem jobban, mint tanácsos. BENEDETTO �Akkor bátyád s a herceg s Claudio Tévedtek, mert esküdtek, hogy - imádsz. BEATRICE Te sem szeretsz? BENEDETTO Nem jobban, mint tanácsos. BEATRICE Akkor hugom meg Margaréta s Ursula Szintúgy tévedtek, mikor esküdöztek. BENEDETTO Esküdtek, hogy te értem elepedsz. BEATRICE Esküdtek, hogy te értem meggebedsz. BENEDETTO Szó sincsen arról. Tehát nem szeretsz? BEATRICE Nem, csak viszonzom barátságodat. LEONATO De húgom, jól tudom, hogy szereted! CLAUDIO És őt is Benedetto - esküszöm! �Itt egy lapon barátunk kézirása: Saját gyártmányú döcögős szonett Beatricéhez esd! HERO S itt egy levél Kuzin zsebéből - saját kézirása, Ez Benedettóhoz fohászkodik! BENEDETTO Csoda! Önkezünk tör önszívünk ellen! Gyere hát, elveszlek - de esküszöm a fényes napra: könyörületből teszem! BEATRICE Nem kosarazhatlak ki. De a napvilágra mondom: csak a heves unszolásnak engedek! Életmentés ez: megsúgták nekem, hogy már dögrováson vagy. BENEDETTO Elég! Majd betapasztom én a szád! (Megcsókolja) DON PEDRO Hogy ízlik a házasság, Benedetto? BENEDETTO Mondok valamit, hercegem. Egy egész kollégiumra való fúrt agyú diák se tudna engem úgy ugratni, hogy a sodromból kijöjjek. Azt hiszed, törődöm én holmi szatírákkal meg epigrammákkal? Hisz ha ilyen elmeszüleményekkel tönkre lehet tenni valakit, akkor meg se merne fordulni az ember egy csinos rokolya után! Egyszóval: ha énnekem házasodni tetszik, akkor nem érdekel, hogy a világnak mit tetszik szólni hozzá! Sose piszkáljatok azzal, hogy eddig milyen csökönyös voltam, mert az ember változandó - punktum! Hogy rólad is szóljak, Claudio: össze akartalak kaszabolni, de most már, úgy látom, sógorságba keveredtünk, hát csak maradj egy darabban, s jól szeresd meg a sógorasszonykámat! �CLAUDIO Már reméltem, hogy faképnél hagyod Beatricét, mert akkor én egy fütykössel úgy átsegítettelek volna a másvilágra, hogy kapkodhattál volna a magad fütyköséhez... De hisz kapkodhatsz ahhoz így is, mert a sógorasszonykám sincs fából! BENEDETTO Hagyd el! Cimborák vagyunk! Táncoljunk egyet esküvő előtt, hogy könnyítsünk a szívünkön - meg a párunk cipellőjén! LEONATO Táncolni ráérünk utána is. BENEDETTO Csakazértis előtte! - Húzd rá! - Ej, hercegem, de savanyú vagy! Asszonyt, asszonyt szerezz! Akkor kerül majd jó kézbe a fenséges pálcád! Követ jön KÖVET Fenség, elfogták útján Don Juant, S fegyver közt hozták vissza Messinába. BENEDETTO Ne gondolj ezzel holnapig! Ne félj, Javaslok majd jó büntetést! - Zenét, hej! Zene, tánc � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Sok hűhó semmiért (Mészöly, 1987) Subject The topic of the resource Much Ado about Nothing 20. századi magyar fordítása. Description An account of the resource Digitális, betűhív átirata Mészöly Dezső fordításának. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Sok hűhó semmiért Budapest, Európa Kiadó, 1987. Magyar Elektronikus Könyvtár http://mek.oszk.hu/00500/00573/ Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Európa Kiadó Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1987. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Mészöly Dezső Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource magyar Type The nature or genre of the resource Könyv Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Budapest License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Könyv Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. Budapest, Európa Kiadó, 1987. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Book Author William Shakespeare Translator Mészöly Dezső ISBN 963074256X Book Title Sok hűhó semmiért Date 1987. Genre Komédia Language magyar Medium Könyv Num Pages 170 Place Budapest Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. URL http://mek.oszk.hu/00500/00573/ https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/95fecce870d58ceb20b31efc9283ffa3.pdf 987199752a768ca51d654b34f3af5013 PDF Text Text Shakespeare SOK HŰHÓ SEMMIÉRT (Fordította: Arany László) ELSŐ FELVONÁS. I. SZÍN. Leonato háza előtt Leonato, Héro, Beátrisz, egy Futár s Kiséret jönnek. LEONATO. Úgy értesülök e levélből, Péter arragoniai herczeg ma estére Messinába érkezik. FUTÁR. Azóta közel is járhat; nem volt három mértföldre, a hol elhagytam. LEONATO. Sok vitézt veszítettetek ebben az ütközetben? FUTÁR. Kevés jelentőset; nevezetest egyet sem. LEONATO. Kétszeres diadal, ha a vezér teljes sorokat hoz haza. A mint itt látom, Péter herczeg nagyon kitüntetett egy Claudio nevű flórenczi ifjút. �FUTÁR. Nagyon meg is érdemelte, de a herczeg is érdeme szerint emlékezett meg róla. Jobban viselte magát, mint ifjú kora igérhette volna, s bárányi alakban oroszláni tetteket vitt végbe. Igazán, messzebb túltett a várakozáson, mintsem tőlem várhatnák, hogy elbeszéljem. LEONATO. Van itt Messinában egy bátyja, annak ez nagy örömet szerez. FUTÁR. Már vittem is neki leveleket, s úgy látszott, nagyon örült nekik: olyan nagyon, hogy az öröm nem tartóztathatta magát a keserüségnek jeleitől. LEONATO. Könnyekre fakadt? FUTÁR. Ugyancsak! LEONATO. Gyöngéd kiömlése a gyöngédségnek. Nincs igazabb arcz, mint a mit ilyen könnyek mosnak: mennyivel jobb sírni az örömön, mint örülni a siralmon. BEÁTRISZ. Hát kérem, Rátarti úr visszatért-e a háborúzásból? FUTÁR. Ilyen nevü urat nem ismerek, kisasszony; olyan nem volt az egész seregben. LEONATO. Kit kérdesz te, húgom? HÉRO. �Bencze urat érti, a páduait. FUTÁR. Oh az visszajött, és jókedvű, mint mindig. BEÁTRISZ. Itt Messinában nyílt kihívást tűzött ki, s nyílversenyre hítta Cupidót; bátyám bohócza meg, a kihívást olvasva, aláírta azt Cupido helyett, s viszont kihívta őt, de madárnyílra. – Ugyan kérem, hányat ölt meg és mennyit evett ebben a háborúban? De először is, mennyit ölt? Mert megigértem, megeszem, a mit megöl. LEONATO. Húgom, te sokat róvsz Bencze rovására; de majd megfelel ő magáért, tudom azt. FUTÁR. Ebben a háborúban jeles szolgálatokat tett. BEÁTRISZ. Talán sok volt a romlott étel, s azt segített megenni: hatalmas tráncsér-hős, kitünő étvágya van. FUTÁR. És jó katona is, kisasszony. BEÁTRISZ. És jó katona is, kisasszonynak; de hát férfinak milyen? FUTÁR. Férfinak férfi, embernek ember, duzzad az erélytől. BEÁTRISZ. Meghiszem: duzzad a ruhája; no a mi a ruházatot…… Jó, jó; mindnyájan haladók vagyunk. �LEONATO. Uram, félre ne értsd a húgomat. Afféle pajkos háború foly közte és Bencze úr közt: sohasem találkozhatnak, hogy kötődő élcz-ütközet ne támadjon köztök. BEÁTRISZ. A miben ő sohasem nyer. Utolsó ütközetünkből öt tehetsége közűl négy bénán ment haza s most az egész embert csak egy igazgatja; ha még maradt annyi leleménye, hogy a hol fázik, betakarja, ám hadd hordja ezt, megkülönböztetésűl a lovától, mert ennyiből áll egész kincse, a miről értelmes teremtésnek ismerhetni. Ki most a pajtása? Neki minden hónapban új testilelki barátja van. FUTÁR. Hogy-hogy? BEÁTRISZ. Nagyon könnyen: a hűséget csak úgy viseli, mint a süvegjét: mindig az új divat szerint váltja. FUTÁR. Látom, kisasszony, ezt a leventét aligha írta barátai lajstromába. BEÁTRISZ. Ha benne volna, elégetném. De, kérem, mondja, ki a barátja? Nincs ott valami ifju szeleburdi, a ki az ördöghöz akar vele útazni? FUTÁR. Többnyire a nemes Claudio társaságában van. BEÁTRISZ. Teremtőm! Erre úgy ráragad, mint a betegség: hamarabb megkapni, mint a pestist, s a ki megkapja, belebomlik. Isten óvja a nemes Claudiót: ha megkapta a Benczét, ezer aranyába kerül, míg kigyógyúl. �FUTÁR. Kisasszony, én önnel békét tartok. BEÁTRISZ. Szívesen, jó barát. LEONATO. Húgom, te ugyan sohasem esel mélabúba. BEÁTRISZ. Nem míg egy rekkenő január nem lesz. FUTÁR. Jön Péter herczeg. Péter Herczeg, János, Claudio, Bencze, Boldizsár s többen jönnek. HERCZEG. Kedves Leonato úr, elénk jön, hogy bajt fogadjon bel. Más kerülni szokta a költekezést, ön még keresi. LEONATO. Az én házamba sohasem jött baj a felséged képmásában: mert ha a baj elmegy, örömnek kell ott maradni; de ha felséged távozik, csak bánatom marad, a boldogság búcsút vesz. HERCZEG. Igen szívesen veszi magára terhét. – Ez az ön leánya? LEONATO. Anyja úgy mondta. BENCZE. �Kételkedett benne, uram, hogy megkérdezte? LEONATO. Nem, Bencze úr; ön akkor még gyermek volt. HERCZEG. Ezt megkaptad, Bencze: ebből kitalálhatjuk, mi vagy, mióta megemberkedtél. – Igazán, a leány egészen atyjára ütött. – Örüljön, kisasszony, mert egy tiszteletre méltó atyához hasonlít. BENCZE. Ha atyja is Leonato úr s bár mennyire hasonlítson hozzá, nem tenné vállára ennek a fejét egész Messináért. BEÁTRISZ. Csodálom, Bencze úr, hogy beleszól; senki sem figyelt rá. BENCZE. Hogy-hogy, kedves Gáncs kisasszony, él még? BEÁTRISZ. Meghalhat-e a gáncs, míg ilyen ennivalót talál, mint Bencze úr? Maga az udvariasság is gáncscsá változik át, ha ön a közelébe jut. BENCZE. Akkor az udvariasság köpönyegforgató. De az bizonyos, hogy engem minden hölgy szeret önön kívül, s én szeretném, ha szivem azt súgná, hogy nem vagyok kemény szivű, mert’ucscse, egyet sem szeretek. BEÁTRISZ. Drága szerencséje az asszonyoknak, különben egy konok üldöző zaklatná őket. Én hálát adok az Istennek és hideg véremnek: részben egy értelemben vagyok önnel. Inkább hallgatnám, hogy ugatja meg kutyám a varjakat, mint egy férfi szerelmi esküjét. �BENCZE. Isten tartsa meg ebben a gondolkodásban, egyik-másik úri ember megmenekűl a karmolt arcz végzetétől. BEÁTRISZ. Nem sokat árthatna a karmolás, ha az az arcz olyan volna is, mint az öné. BENCZE. Ritka papagály-tanító! BEÁTRISZ. Inkább madár az én nyelvemmel, mint vad az önével. BENCZE. Bár a lovam volna olyan gyors, mint a nyelve, s olyan kitartó. De maradjon, kérem, Isten hírével: én befejeztem. BEÁTRISZ. Mindig ilyen gebe-tréfával végezi: régen ismerem. HERCZEG. Száz szónak is egy a vége. Leonato – Claudio úr és Bencze úr! – érdemes barátunk Leonato mindnyájatokat meghívott. Mondom neki, hogy mi legalább egy hónapig itt maradunk, és ő mégis jó szivvel könyörög, bár tovább itt tartson valami véletlen; s esküdni mernék, hogy nem képmutatásból, hanem szivéből könyörög. LEONATO. Bizony, nem esküdnék felséged hamisan. (Jánoshoz.) Hadd üdvözöljem önt is, uram: kibékülvén herczegi bátyjával, fogadja teljes hódolatomat. JÁNOS. Köszönöm. Én nem vagyok sok beszédű ember, de köszönöm. �LEONATO. Tessék előre, felség! HERCZEG. Kezed’, Leonato; menjünk együtt. (Mind el, kivéve Benczét és Claudiót.) CLAUDIO. Bencze! megjegyezted Leonato leányát? BENCZE. Meg nem jegyeztem, de láttam. CLAUDIO. Hát nem kedves egy leány? BENCZE. Egyszerű igaz véleményemet kérded-e, mint egyenes ember szokta kérdezni, vagy azt akarod, hogy szokásom szerint a szép nem esküdt zsarnoka szóljon belőlem! CLAUDIO. Nem, nem: kérlek, szólj, józan itélettel. BENCZE. Hát biz ő, úgy gondolom, nagy dicsőitésre kicsi, nagy tündöklésre fekete, nagy felmagasztalásra alacsony, ajánlására annyit mondhatok, ha más volna, mint a mi, nem volna szép, s mivel nem más, mint a mi, én nem szerettem belé. CLAUDIO. Azt gondolod, tréfálok: kérlek, szólj komolyan, hogy tetszik? BENCZE. �Meg akarod venni, hogy úgy tudakozol utána? CLAUDIO. Megvehetne-é a világ ilyen kincset? BENCZE. Meg hát, s aztán tokot neki, a mibe tegye. De csakugyan komolyan beszélsz-e? vagy Csalóka Péter módjára el akarod hitetni, hogy Cupido vak létére meglátja fektében a nyúlat s hogy Vulkán nem kovács, hanem ács? Milyen kulcsból énekeljek, hogy bele találjak hangodba? CLAUDIO. Az én szememben Héro a leggyönyörűbb teremtés, a kit valaha láttam. BENCZE. Én is látok pápaszem nélkül, de effélét nem látok rajta: az unokahúga, csak ne volna olyan szilaj, annyival túlhaladná szépségre, mint május elseje deczember utolját. De remélem, nem akarsz megházasodni? CLAUDIO. Aligha bíznám magamban, bár megesküdtem volna is az ellenkezőre, ha Héro hozzám jönne. BENCZE. Csakugyan ennyire vagyunk? Hát nincs a világon ember, a ki süvegét gond nélkül akarná hordani? Sohsem láthatok eztán hatvanas agglegényt? Csak rajta: ha nyakadat igába akarod hajtani, tűrd a törését és sohajtozd el a vasárnapokat. – A herczeg visszajött, téged keres. Péter Herczeg jő. HERCZEG. Micsoda titok tartott vissza, hogy nem jöttetek velünk Leonatóhoz? BENCZE. Szeretném, ha rászorítna felséged, hogy kimondjam. �HERCZEG. Hát parancsolom, jobbágyi hűségedre. BENCZE. Hallod ezt, gróf Claudio? Én tudok hallgatni, mint a néma, ezt meghiheted; de jobbágyi hűségemre! jól megértsd, jobbágyi hűségemre. – Hát szerelmes. – Kibe? kérdezi, úgy-e, fölséged? – Bizony a válasz rövid. Héróba, Leonato rövid leányába. HERCZEG. Ha úgy volna, mondta volna. BENCZE. Mint a régi nóta, uram: nem is volt úgy, most sincsen úgy, adja Isten, ne legyen úgy. CLAUDIO. Ha szenvedélyem meg nem változik, ne adja Isten, hogy máskép legyen. HERCZEG. Ámen, ha szereted: mert ez a hölgy nagyon érdemes reá. CLAUDIO. Azért mondja, fölség, hogy hitegessen? HERCZEG. Hitemre, azt mondom, a mit gondolok. CLAUDIO. Szavamra mondom én is azt. BENCZE. �Én pedig, hitemre és szavamra, azt, a mit én gondolok. CLAUDIO. Hogy szeretem, érzem. HERCZEG. Hogy érdemes rá, tudom. BENCZE. Hogy én se nem érzem, hogy lehet őt szeretni, se nem tudom, mivel érdemli: ez oly meggyőződés, a mit a tűz sem olvaszthatna ki belőlem! kész volnék máglyán halni érte. HERCZEG. Te a szépség megtagadásában mindig ily makacs eretnek voltál. CLAUDIO. De csak akaratán tett erőszakkal tudja megállani a helyét. BENCZE. Hogy világra hozott egy asszony, köszönöm neki; hogy táplált, szintén alázatos köszönetet mondok érte; de hogy szarut engedjek tűzni homlokomra s tülkömet ilyen láthatatlan szíjon viseljem: már ezt bocsássák meg nekem az asszonyok. Mivel nem akarom őket azzal sérteni, hogy valamennyiökben kételkedjem, úgy adok igazat magamnak, hogy egynek sem hiszek. Elvégre (hogy ne jussak jégre) holtig legény maradok. HERCZEG. Látlak én még téged ez életben szerelemtől halványodva. BENCZE. Dühtől, betegségtől, éhségtől, meglehet, fölség; szerelemtől nem. Ha bebizonyítja, hogy valaha több vért veszítek szerelem miatt, mint a mit itallal pótolok: szúrja ki a szememet egy versfaragó pennájával s akaszszon ki egy bordélyház ajtajára, czégér gyanánt, a vak Cupido helyett. �HERCZEG. Jól van, ha valaha e hittől eltérsz, jeles tanúságul szolgálsz. BENCZE. Ha eltérek, nem bánom, dugjanak üvegbe, mint egy macskát, s lőjetek rám czélba, és a ki eltalál, veregessék meg a vállát és híják Ádámnak. HERCZEG. Majd megmutatja az idő: „Akármilyen vad a bika, Majd megtöri még az iga.” BENCZE. A vad bikát, meglehet; de ha valaha Bencze is érzelgősen aláhajtja a nyakát: messék ki a bika szarvát s tűzzék az én homlokomra; festessenek le otrombán, és akkora betűkkel, mint azt szokták kiírni: „Itt jó fuvaros-ló kapható”, írják alá a képemnek: „Itt láthatni Benczét, megházasodva.” CLAUDIO. Sokat emlegeted a szarvakat! HERCZEG. Bizony, ha Ámor el nem pazarolta minden nyilát Velenczében, meglakolsz te ezért. BENCZE. Előbb kimozdul sarkából a föld! HERCZEG. Jó, jó: majd más hitre térít az idő. De most, barátom Bencze, siess Leonatóhoz, üdvözöld a nevemben, s mondd meg neki, nem maradok el a vacsoráról, mert nagy készületeket tett hozzá. �BENCZE. Megfelelek a küldetésnek emberséggel; ezzel ajánlom fölséged… CLAUDIO. Isten ótalmába; kelt saját lakomban, (ha volna)… HERCZEG. Július 6-án; szerető barátod Bencze m. k. BENCZE. Ej, ne tréfáljanak, ne tréfáljanak! Hiába csipkézik beszédjök szövetét ilyen ócska hulladékkal, ha a csipke csak fityeg rajta. Ha ó szólásformákkal csúfolkodnak, előbb vessenek számot a lelkiismeretökkel. De már megyek (Bencze el.) CLAUDIO. Fölség, nekem most egy nagy jót tehet. HERCZEG. Szeretetem tied: tanítsd meg őt, Mi jót tehet: meglásd, mi kész javadra Akármilyen nehéz leczkét tanulni. CLAUDIO. Uram, van-é Leonatónak fia? HERCZEG. Nincs senki, Héro egyetlen leánya. Szereted őt, Claudio? CLAUDIO. Uram, mikor E most bevégzett hadra készülődtünk, �Katona-szemmel néztem még reá: Tetszett bizony, de durvább munka várt rám, Semmint az érzelem komolyra nőjön; De visszatérve most s a harczi gondok Elszállva fészkeikből: hült nyomokba Szerelmi gyöngéd édes vágy tolúl, Azt súgja-búgja, hogy Héró milyen szép, S hogy őt szerettem már a harcz előtt. HERCZEG. No most szerelmesek módján beléfogsz, S egész kötetnyi szóval fenyegetsz Ha szereted szép Hérót, ám szeresd, Beszélek véle én s atyjával is: Ne félj, tied lesz. Nos, nem e miatt Kezdtél-e szőni kedves vallomást? CLAUDIO. Gyorsan gyógyítja a szerelmi bajt, Ha már az arczomon felismeri. De, hogy szerelmem mohónak ne lássék, Talán a kúra hosszabb is lehetne? HERCZEG. Mért lenne a híd szélesebb a víznél? Mért adni többet annál, a mi kell? S lásd, ennyi kész is: te szeretsz, ez egy; Bajodra ír kell, ezt megszerzem én. Ma este bál leszen, helyetted ott Szerepet én játszom álruhában; �Hérónak azt mondom, Claudio vagyok Kitárom a keblébe szivemet, Fülét erővel is rabbá teszem, Meghódítom szerelmetes mesémmel, Aztán megegyezünk atyjával is, S a végeredmény az, hogy ő tied lesz. De most dologra hát, lássunk utána. (Mind el.) II. SZÍN. Szoba Leonato házában. Leonato és Antonio. LEONATO. Hogy vagy, öcsém? Hol van a fiad? gondoskodott a zenéről? ANTONIO. Utána lát szorgalmasan. De, bátyám, különös újságot mondhatok, a miről nem is álmodtál. LEONATO. Valami jót? ANTONIO. Majd az eredmény üti rá a pecsétet; de a borítéka jó: kívül jót mutat. A herczeget és Claudiót, a mint kertemben a sürű lombos fasor közt sétáltak, egyik emberem kihallgatta: a herczeg fölfedezte Claudiónak, hogy ő szerelmes húgomba, a te leányodba, s hogy az éjjel meg is akarja ezt neki vallani táncz közben; és ha leányod is beleegyez, mindjárt tarkón akarja ragadni az időt, hogy veled is rögtön beszéljen. LEONATO. �Van annak a ficzkónak esze, a ki neked ezt mondta? ANTONIO. Ügyes, szemes legény; majd érte küldök: vallasd ki magad. LEONATO. Nem, nem: tartsuk álomnak míg be nem teljesűl; de leányomat mégis értesíteni kell, hogy jobban kész legyen a válaszra, ha véletlenül mindez igaz lenne. Eredj beszélj vele. (Több személy átmegy a színpadon.) Atyafiak, már tudjátok, mi a dolgotok. – Oh kérlek, barátom, te gyere velem: reád nagy szükségem van. – Atyafi, el ne felejtsétek, hogy kevés az idő. (El.) III. SZÍN. Más szoba Leonato házában. János és Konrád. KONRÁD. Mi a manó, uram, miért ilyen mód nélkül szomorú? JÁNOS. Mód nélküli az ok is, a mi szomorít, azért szomorúságom is határtalan. KONRÁD. De az okosságra kellene hallgatni. JÁNOS. Ha rá hallgatok is, mi jót hoz? KONRÁD. Ha mindjárt orvoslást nem is, legalább békés türelmet. �JÁNOS. Csodálom, hogy te, a ki (mint mondod) Saturnus jegyében születtél, abban fáradozol, hogy erkölcsi orvosságot alkalmazz gyilkos bajomra. Én nem tudom rejtegetni, a milyen vagyok; nekem szomorkodnom kell, ha okom van rá, s nem mosolygok senki tréfájára; én eszem, ha étvágyam van, és nem várok senki után; alszom, ha alhatnám, nem törődöm senki dolgával; nevetek, ha kedvem van és nem czirogatok senkit, ha duzzog. KONRÁD. Igen, de nem szükség ezt oly igen kimutatni, míg észrevétlenűl is teheti. Múltkor pártot ütött bátyja ellen, s ő csak nem rég fogadta vissza kegyelmébe, a hol bizony nem verhet erős gyökeret, ha csak szép időjárással nem, a mit maga csinál magának; jó nyarat kell teremtenie a saját aratásához. JÁNOS. Inkább lennék vad csipke a tüske közt, mint rózsa az ő kegyelmében; jobban összefér a véremmel, hogy megvessen minden ember, mint az, hogy valakinek saraglyájába fogódzam, kegyelmet lopni; e részben, bár udvarias hizelgőnek senki sem tarthat, azt nem tagadhatja, hogy szókimondó ficzkó vagyok. Bíznak bennem, de szájkosárral; szabadon eresztenek, de kolonczczal: biz én hát nem énekelek a kalitkában. Ha szám volna, harapnék; ha szabadságom volna, élném világomat; de a mostani körűlmények közt, hadd legyek én, a mi vagyok: ne törődjél azzal, hogy megváltoztass. KONRÁD. Elégedetlenségének nem veheti semmi hasznát! JÁNOS. Teljes hasznát kiveszem, mert mindig csak azt használom. Ki jön itt? Borachio jő. JÁNOS. Mi újság, Borachio? BORACHIO. �Amonnan jövök a nagy vacsoráról. Bátyját, a herczeget, királyilag vendégelik Leonatónál; aztán egy házassági tervről is tudok valamit. JÁNOS. Nem szolgálhatna-e ez a terv alapúl, hogy valami csalárdságot építsünk reá? Ki az a bolond, a ki eljegyzi magát az örök nyugtalanságra? BORACHIO. Nem más, mint bátyjának jobb keze. JÁNOS. Kicsoda? a gyönyörűséges Claudio? BORACHIO. Épen ő. JÁNOS. Nyalka legény! Aztán kit, kit? merre pillantott? BORACHIO. Héróra, Leonato leányára és örökösére. JÁNOS. Jól megtollasodott tavaszi csibe! Hogy jutottál te mind e hírhez? BORACHIO. A szellőztetést bízták reám, s a mint egy dohos szobában hordoztuk a füstölőt, jön a herczeg és Claudio karon fogva, komoly beszélgetés közt; én elbújtam a szőnyeg mögé, ott hallottam, mikor megegyeztek, hogy a herczeg megkérje Hérót magának, s ha megkapja, adja át Claudio grófnak. JÁNOS. �Jertek, jertek, menjünk oda: ez még táplálékot adhat az én elégedetlenségemnek. Az a nagyrakapó fattyú bukásom egész dicsőségében osztozik: ha bárhogyan gáncsot vethetek útjába, megáldom érte magamat. Bennetek bízom: segítségemre lesztek? KONRÁD. Halálig, uram. JÁNOS. Jerünk a nagy vacsorához: annál nagyobb az újongásuk, hogy én fejet hajtok. Bár a szakács is az én indulatommal volna! – Menjünk, kutassuk, mit lehet tenni? BORACHIO. Mi követjük hűségesen. (Elmennek.) MÁSODIK FELVONÁS. I. SZÍN. Csarnok Leonato házánál. Leonato, Antonio, Héro, Beátrisz és mások. LEONATO. János gróf nem volt itt vacsorán? ANTONIO. Én nem láttam. BEÁTRISZ. �Milyen savanyú úr az a gróf: nem nézhetek rá, hogy egy óra múlva gyomorégést ne kapjak. HÉRO. Szörnyű mogorva hangulatú. BEÁTRISZ. Az volna a derék ember, a ki középúton járna közte és Bencze között: az egyik olyan, mint a kőszent, egyet se szól; a másik olyan, mint úri asszony első gyermeke, mindig csacsog. LEONATO. Úgy hát felét Bencze nyelvének János gróf szájába, felét János gróf mogorvaságának Bencze arczára… BEÁTRISZ. Jó lábbal, jó innal, elég pénzzel erszényében: az ilyen ember bátyám, akármelyik asszonyt megkaphatná a világon,… ha meg tudná nyerni a jó indulatát. LEONATO. Biz Isten, húgom sohasem kapsz férjet, ha nem zabolázod a nyelvedet. ANTONIO. Igazán, nagyon hamis vagy. BEÁTRISZ. Nagyon hamis jobb, mint hamis: legalább nem szaporítom Isten adományát: mert meg van írva, hogy „hamis borjúnak rövid szarvat ád az Isten,” a nagyon hamisnak tehát nem ád semmilyet. LEONATO. Így hát, ha nagyon hamis vagy, neked nem ád az Isten semmilyen szarvat. BEÁTRISZ. �Nem, ha férjet nem ád; ezért az áldásért térden könyörgök neki minden este, minden reggel. Teremtőm! el nem tudnák szenvedni egy férjet, a szakálas pofájával: inkább hálnék szőrpokróczban. LEONATO. Akadhatsz olyan férjre is, a kinek nincs szakálla. BEÁTRISZ. Hát azzal mit csinálnék? Felöltöztessem a magam ruhájába, szobalányt neveljek belőle? A melyiknek szakála van, az már nem ifjú; a melyiknek nincs szakála, az még nem ember: a ki már nem ifjú, nem nekem való; a ki még nem ember, én nem vagyok neki való: tehát holtig petrezselymet árulok. LEONATO. Az ördög veszi meg a te petrezselymedet. BEÁTRISZ. Igen? majd megkinálom vele; elmegyek a pokol kapujához; de tudom, be nem bocsát, elküld onnan: „Eredj a mennyországba, Beátrisz, itt nincs hely a leányoknak;” én összeszedem a petrezselymemet, fölmegyek Szent Péterhez, az égbe; az majd megmutatja, hol ülnek az agglegények; ott élünk vigan, világfogytáig. ANTONIO. Jó, jó, húgom. (Héróhoz.) Remélem, te az apád szavára hallgatsz. BEÁTRISZ. Bizonyosan: neki kötelessége szép bókot csapni, s azt mondani: „Atyám, a mint önnek tetszik;” de mindamellett, húgom, szép legyen ám a legény, vagy különben csapj egy másik bókot, s mondd azt: „Atyám, a mint nekem tetszik.” LEONATO. Látlak én még téged, húgom, férjedhez simulva. BEÁTRISZ. �Addig ugyan nem, míg az Isten más agyagból nem alkotja a férfiakat, mint földből. Hát ne sértené-e az a nőket, hogy rajtok egy maroknyi irdatlan por uralkodjék, hogy éltöket egy rakás otromba sárra bízzák? Nem, bácsi, nekem egyik sem kell: Ádám ivadékai mind testvéreim: bizony bűnnek tartanám, rokonomhoz menni nőül. LEONATO. Leányom, e ne felejtsd, a mit mondtam: ha a herczeg csakugyan körűlvesz, tudod már, mint viseld magad’. BEÁTRISZ. A zenében lesz a hiba, húgom, ha idején férjhez nem jutsz. Ha a herczeg nagyon ostromolna, mondd neki, hogy mértéket kell tartani mindenben, s így tánczolj ki a válasz elől. Mert lásd, Héro, az eljegyzés, az esküvő, meg a megbánás olyan, mint a kopogós, a minét, meg a keringő: az első heves, eleven, mint a kopogós, csupa tűz és csapongás; az esküvő illedelmes, módos, mint a minét, egészen ünnepélyes és méltóságos; s aztán következik a megbánás, előbb lassan, azután mindig sebesebben, sebesebben, míg a sírjába nem szédűl. LEONATO. Húgom, te gonosz színben látod a földi pályát. BEÁTRISZ. Csak jó a szemem, bácsi, meglátom fényes nappal a templomot. LEONATO. Jönnek az álarczos vendégek; öcsém, adjunk helyet! Péter herczeg, Claudio, Bencze, Boldizsár, János, Borachio, Margit, Ursula és mások jönnek álarczban. HERCZEG. Szép hölgy, megnyerheti egy sétára hódolója? HÉRO. �Ha lassan sétál, nyájasan néz és egyet sem szól, öné vagyok a sétára, kivált mikor odább sétálok. HERCZEG. Társaságban velem? HÉRO. Talán úgy is, ha kedvem lesz. HERCZEG. Mikor lesz kedve? HÉRO. Ha megtetszik arcza: mert Isten őrizzen, hogy olyan legyen a lant is, a milyen a tokja. HERCZEG. Az én álarczom Philemon kunyhója, benn a házban Jupiter tanyáz. HÉRO. Akkor álarcza zsúpos volna. (Félrevonúlnak.) MARGIT. Halkan szólj, ha szerelemről beszélsz. BOLDIZSÁR. Jól van. Szeretném, hogy szeress. MARGIT. Én nem szeretném, saját jóvoltodért nem, mert sok rossz tulajdonságom van. �BOLDIZSÁR. Mondj egyet. MARGIT. Hangosan imádkozom. BOLDIZSÁR. Annál jobban szeretlek érte: a hallgató rámondhatja az áment. MARGIT. Adjon Isten nekem jó tánczost! BOLDIZSÁR. Ámen. MARGIT. Aztán távolítsa el tőlem, mihelyt vége a táncznak! – Felelj, ministráns! BOLDIZSÁR. Egy szót sem: a ministráns nem felelős. URSULA. Ismerlek jól, Antonio úr. ANTONIO. Szavamra, mondom, nem az vagyok. URSULA. Ismerlek a fejed rezgéséről. (Félrevonúlnak.) �ANTONIO. Hogy megmondjam az igazat, ezt csak utánozom. URSULA. Sohasem tudnád azt olyan ügyes-ügyetlenül, ha ő maga nem volnál. Itt van az ő száraz keze szőröstül-bőröstül: az vagy, az vagy. ANTONIO. Szavamra mondom, nem vagyok. URSULA. Eredj, eredj! azt gondolod, nem megismerlek kitünő elmésségedről. Elrejtőzhetik-e az erény? Menj, hallgass, az vagy. A báj mindig kitünik. Elég, elég. (Félrevonúlnak.) BEÁTRISZ. Nem mondanád meg, ki beszélte azt rólam? BENCZE. Nem, bocsáss meg. BEÁTRISZ. Sem azt, hogy ki vagy te? BENCZE. Most nem. BEÁTRISZ. Hogy én kényes vagyok és minden elmésségemet a „Száz víg adoma” gyüjteményből szedem. Ezt nem mondhatta más, mint Bencze úr. BENCZE. Ki az? �BEÁTRISZ. Bizonyos vagyok, hogy jól ismered. BENCZE. Nem én, igazán nem. BEÁTRISZ. Sohasem nevettetett meg? BENCZE. De hát ki és mi ő? BEÁTRISZ. A herczeg bohócza: igazi sületlen bohócz; csak az a jó tulajdona van, hogy hihetetlen rágalmakat terjeszt. Más nem gyönyörködik benne, csak a léhaság; nem is eszéért kedvelik, hanem fogyatkozásáért: mert mulattatja is, bosszantja is őket; nevetnek is rajta és verik is értte. Bizonyosan most is itt van, ebben az árban: szeretném, ha hajómhoz ütődnék. BENCZE. Ha megismerem, elbeszélem neki, mint mondtál. BEÁTRISZ. Igen, igen: ő majd hozzám sújt egy-két hasonlatot, a mit ha véletlenül nem vesznek észre, vagy nem nevetnek rajta, e miatt búskomorságba esik, s akkor egy fogoly szárnya megmaradt, mert, a balga, nem vacsorál egész este. (Benn zene.) Menjünk a vezetők után. BENCZE. Minden jóba. BEÁTRISZ. Ha rosszra vezetnek, ott hagyom őket a másik fordulónál. �Táncz. Aztán mind elmennek, csak János, Borachio és Claudio maradnak. JÁNOS. Bizonyos, a bátyám szerelmes Héróba; félrevonúlt atyjával, hogy nyilatkozzék előtte. A nők is kimennek, csak egy álarczos marad. BORACHIO. Ez Claudio: ismerem a tartásáról. JÁNOS. Nem Bencze úr ön? CLAUDIO. Jól találta, az vagyok. JÁNOS. Uram, a bátyám szerelmes Héróba; ön nagy kegyben áll nála: kérem, beszélje le erről a szerelemről: az a leány nem hozzá való. Becsületes emberhez illő szolgálatot tesz ön vele. CLAUDIO. Honnan tudja, hogy a herczeg szerelmes Héróba? JÁNOS. Hallottam, mikor hűséget esküdött neki. BORACHIO. Hallottam én is; megesküdött, hogy még ma este nőül veszi. JÁNOS. Hallottam, mikor hűséget esküdött neki. �BORACHIO. Hallottam én is; megesküdött, hogy még ma este nőül veszi. JÁNOS. Gyere, menjünk a vacsorához. (János és Borachio el.) CLAUDIO. Bencze nevében szóltam így, de Claudio fülével hallom a gonosz hírt. Bizonynyal úgy van: a herczeg magának Akarja megszerezni. A barátság Lehet talán szilárd akármi másban, De a szerelem dolgában nem az. Azért saját nyelvével szóljon és Saját szemével lásson a szerelmes, Ne bízza másra: a szépség lidércz: Varázslatán a hűség vérbe olvad. Hisz mindez oly midennapos eset, S én bíztam!… Oh Héró, Isten veled! Bencze visszajő. BENCZE. Gróf Claudio? CLAUDIO. Az vagyok. BENCZE. No, gyere velem. �CLAUDIO. Hova? BENCZE. A legközelebbi szomorúfűzfához, épen a te dolgodban. Milyen divat szerint hordod majd a fűzkoszorút: a nyakadon-e, mint a tőzsér az aranylánczot? vagy a derekadon, mint katonatiszt a kardkötőjét! Így, vagy amúgy, de hordanod kell, mert a herczeg elvette Héródat. CLAUDIO. Adjon Isten hozzá szerencsét! BENCZE. Ez már becsületes kupecz módjára van mondva: az is ezzel adja el a jószágát. De gondoltad-e, hogy a herczeg így bánjék veled? CLAUDIO. Kérlek, hagyj magamra. BENCZE. Ha-hó! most már ütsz-vágsz, mint a vak koldus: a gyerek csente el a kenyeredet s te az ágast ütöd! CLAUDIO. Ha te nem mégysz, itt hagylak én. (El.) BENCZE. Oh szegény megsebzett madár! Most elbuvik a sásba. – Hanem, hogy engem az a Beátrisz akar is ösmerni meg nem is! Én, a herczeg bolondja! – Biz az meglehet, hogy ezt a czímet kaptam, mert víg vagyok. – Hm; de ni-ni, már kész volnék magam ártani magamnak: hiszen nem állok én oly rossz hírben; csak Beátrisznak álnok szeszélye az egész; a világ szerepét magára veszi és annak szájába adja, a mit ő fog reám. Jól van, majd bosszút állok, a hogy lehet. �Péter Herczeg visszajő. HERCZEG. Barátom, hol van a gróf? Nem láttad? BENCZE. De bizony, fölséges uram; én az imént Fáma kisasszony szerepét játszottam. Itt találtam őt, olyan búsan, mint egy erdei lak. Elmondtam neki (azt hiszem, igazat mondtam), hogy fölséged megnyerte ez s ez kisasszony vonzalmát, és ajánlkoztam mellé úti társúl a legközelebbi fűzfáig, hogy ott vagy koszorút kössünk, mert elhagyta a babája, vagy virgácsot fonjunk, mert megérdemli a verést. HERCZEG. A verést? Hát mi a hibája? BENCZE. Az az együgyű vétek, a mi az iskolás gyermeké, a ki nagy örömében, hogy madárfészket talált, megmutatja azt pajtásának, ez meg aztán elszedi. HERCZEG. Te a bizalmadból vétket csinálnál. A vétek azé, a ki elszedte tőle. BENCZE. Úgy sem veszne kárba, ha elkészült volna a virgács, meg a koszorú: a koszorút elviselné ő, a virgácsot pedig fölségednek lehetne ajánlani, a ki, azt gondolom, elszedte a madár fészkét. HERCZEG. Én csak meg akarom tanítani énekelni, s aztán visszaadom a gazdájának. BENCZE. Ha az ének összevág ezzel a beszéddel, akkor ez igazán szép beszéd. HERCZEG. �Hanem Beátrisz kisasszonynak pöre van veled: egy tánczosa megmondta neki, hogy te sokat bántod. BENCZE. Ohó, ő kínozott meg engem, hogy egy tuskó se állta volna ki; egy cserfatő, ha csak egyetlen zöld levél van rajta, nem tűrte volna szó nélkül; már álarczom is kezdett megelevenedni és csufolódni vele. Azt beszélte nekem (nem gondolva, hogy épen velem beszél), hogy a herczeg bohócza vagyok, hogy léhább vagyok, mint a lágy-idő; és szórta rám egyik gúnyt a másik után, oly hihetetlen özönnel, hogy én csak álltam, mint az egyszeri ember a czéltábla mellett, melyre egész hadsereg lövöldöz. Beszéde tőr, minden szava szúr; ha lehellete is olyan rettenetes volna, mint a csetepatéja, nem maradna élő a közelében, megmérgezne mindent, egész az éjszaki csillagig. Én nőül nem venném, ha mindaz rá szállna is, a mi Ádámé volt a bűnbe-esés előtt: rá tudná szorítani Herkulest a nyársforgatásra, sőt felapríttatná vele a buzogányát, hogy a tüzet is megrakja belőle. Ej, ne is beszéljünk róla: meglássa, ez a leány maga a pokolbeli Áte, csak a ruhája jobb. Adná Isten, hogy valami tudós megint visszaidézné oda: mert míg itt van, a pokolban bizonyosan olyan nyugton lehet élni, mint akármelyik sekrestyében, s az emberek szántszándékkal követik el a bűnt, mivel oda akarnak jutni: így valósággal minden zavar, rémület és háborúság az ő nyomán jár. Claudio, Beátrisz, Héro, Leonato jönnek. HERCZEG. Nézd, itt jő. BENCZE. Nincs felségednek valami rám bízni valója a világ túlsó végén? Most szivesen elmegyek az Antipodesekhez a legcsekélyebb apróságért, a mi fölségednek eszébe jut: hozok egy fogpiszkálót Ázsia legútolsó széléről; elhozom a János pap lába nyomának mértékét; csenek egy szálat a nagy khán szakálából; vagy követségbe indulok a Pigmäusokhoz inkább, mint három szót váltsak ezzel a harpiával. Nem parancsol velem? HERCZEG. Nem; csak kérlek, maradj velünk. BENCZE. Oh teremtőm, de itt egy olyan tál van, a miből én nem ehetném: nem férhetek össze Csupanyelv asszonysággal. (El.) �HERCZEG. Lám, lám, kisasszony, elveszítette Bencze úr szivét. BEÁTRISZ. Igazán el, fölség: előbb egy időre ide adta kölcsön s én kamatot is adtam rá, kettős szivet egyért; de nem régiben visszanyerte hamis koczkán: jól mondja fölséged, hogy elveszítettem. HERCZEG. Ezzel leterítette őt, kisasszony, igazán leterítette. BEÁTRISZ. Nem szeretném, hogy ő terített volna le; bizony bolondok anyjává lennék. Ime, elhoztam gróf Claudiót, a kit fölséged értem küldött. HERCZEG. Nos, grófom, hogy és mint? miért vagy olyan szomorú? CLAUDIO. Nem vagyok én szomorú, fölség. HERCZEG. Hát? Beteg? CLAUDIO. Az sem, uram. BEÁTRISZ. A gróf se szomorú, se beteg, se víg, se egészséges: olyan édes, mint a czitrom, és épen olyan féltékeny színű. HERCZEG. �Bizony, kisasszony, azt hiszem, jól magyarázza a czímlapját; de ha a grófnak csakugyan az a baja, biz Isten, balul vélekedik. Nos, Claudio, megkértem nevedben a szép Hérót, s meg is van nyerve; beszéltem atyjával, az ő áldása biztosítva; a házasság napja kitüzve: adjon Isten neked boldogságot! LEONATO. Gróf, fogadd leányomat és vele vagyonomat: ő félsége szőtte e házasságot s a mennyei fölség áment mond reá. BEÁTRISZ. Szóljon, gróf úr: kegyeden a sor. CLAUDIO. Hallgatás az öröm legjobb hirnöke: nagyon kevéssé volnék boldog, ha ki tudnám mondani, mennyire az vagyok. Kisasszony, a mint ön az enyim, én az öné vagyok: oda adom magam’ egészen és epedek a cseréért. BEÁTRISZ. Szólj, húgom, vagy ha nem tudsz, tapaszd be száját egy csókkal, ne hagyd beszélni őt se. HERCZEG. Lelkemre, kisasszony, kegyednek víg a szive is. BEÁTRISZ. Hála Istennek, fölség, biz ez a szegény bohó sziv mindig szél védte oldalra húzódik a bú elől. – Húgom azt súgja a gróf fülébe, hogy a gróf benn a szivébe’. CLAUDIO. Igazán, édes rokon. BEÁTRISZ. Teremtőm, adj házasságot! Így visznek minden leányt világra, csak engem aszal el a nap. Ülhetek a sutba, férjért pityeregni. �HERCZEG. Teremtsek-e rögtön egyet? BEÁTRISZ. Jobb szeretnék a fölséged atyja teremtéséből. Nem volt fölségednek soha olyan öcscse, mint maga? Atyja pompás férjeket teremtett, csak leány kellene melléjök. HERCZEG. Elfogadna-e engem, kisasszony? BEÁTRISZ. Nem én, fölség, míg mást kaphatok hétköznapra: fölséged nagyon drága volna mindennapi viselőnek. – De, alásan esedezem, bocsásson meg fölséged: én csak tréfás beszédre születtem, nem komoly ügyekre. HERCZEG. Hallgatása legjobban sértene engem; vidámsága legjobban áll önnek: mert kétségkivül víg órában született. BEÁTRISZ. Azaz, fölség, az anyám bizony sikolthatott; de volt fölöttem egy csillag, melynek fénye tánczra rezgett, az alatt születtem én (Héróhoz és Claudióhoz.) Kedves rokonok, Isten adjon nektek sok örömet. LEONATO. Húgom, utána látsz-e annak a dolognak, a miről szóltam? BEÁTRISZ. Jaj, bácsi, irgalom, kegyelem! – Bocsánat, fölség! HERCZEG. Lelkemre mondom, eleven kedvű leány. (Beátrisz el.) �LEONATO. Nem igen van melancholikus elem benne, fölség; nem komoly ez soha, csak ha alszik; de még akkor sem: a leányomtól hallottam, hogy olykor, ha rosszat álmodik, fölkaczag s arra fölébred. HERCZEG. Férjről hallani sem akar. LEONATO. Oh, semmi szín alatt; minden kérőjét kitréfálja a sodrából. HERCZEG. Pompás feleség volna Benczének. LEONATO. Teremtőm! ha egy hétig együtt élnének, agyon beszélnék egymást. HERCZEG. Claudio, mikor akarsz a pap elébe menni? CLAUDIO. Holnap, uram; mankón halad az idő, míg a szerelem túl nincs minden szertatáson. LEONATO. A jövő hétfőig nem, édes fiam, a mi mához épen egy hét; így is rövid az idő, hogy mindent kedvemre elrendezhessünk. HERCZEG. Ej, no, fejet csóválsz erre a hosszú lélekzetvételre; de ne félj, Claudio, ez az idő nem mulik tőlünk lomhán. Egy herkulesi munkát akarok ez alatt végbe vinni, a mi abból áll, hogy Benczét és Beátriszt egymáshoz kapcsoljam a vonzalomnak egész hegylánczával. Szeretném, �hogy házasság legyen belőle, s nincs kétségem, hogy kikerekíthetjük, ha ti hárman segítségemre lesztek, a mint én az utasítást adom. LEONATO. Uram, én parancsára állok, ha tíz éjjeli virrasztásomba kerül is. CLAUDIO. Én is, fölség. HERCZEG. Hát ön, kedves Héró? HÉRO. Én is kész vagyok minden illő szolgálatra, hogy unokatestvéremet jó férjhez juttassuk. HERCZEG. Nem is olyan kétségbeesett vőlegény ám Bencze. Annyit mondhatok, hogy nemes törzsből való, kipróbált bátorságú, szilárd becsületességű ember. Majd megtanítom önt, mikép hangolja unokatestvérét, hogy szerelembe essék Bencze iránt; magam pedig, a kettőtök segítségével, majd Benczét veszem körül, hogy fürge elméje és finnyás étvágya daczára szerelembe essék Beátrisz iránt. Ha ezt ki tudja vinni, Cupido eldobhatja nyilait, mienk lesz a dicsősége, mert csak mi vagyunk a szerelemistenek. Gyertek velem, majd elmondom a csel tervét. (Mind el.) II. SZÍN. Más szoba Leonato házában. János és Borachio. JÁNOS. Úgy van, Claudio gróf elveszi Leonato leányát. �BORACHIO. Igen, uram; de én keresztet vethetek útjába. JÁNOS. Akármilyen kereszt, gát vagy akadály, az nekem orvosság lesz: beteg vagyok bele, úgy gyűlölöm, s a mi az ő érzelmét visszásan éri, az enyimet egyenesen gyógyítja. Hogy vethetsz keresztet e házasság elé? BORACHIO. Nem becsületesen, uram, de olyan jól eltakarva, hogy semmi becstelenség nem látszik ki alóla. JÁNOS. Add elő röviden. BORACHIO. Gondolom, mondtam már kegyelmességednek, most egy éve, hogy mily bizalmasan állok Margittal, Héro társalgónőjével. JÁNOS. Emlékszem. BORACHIO. Rávehetem, hogy akármilyen késő óráján az éjszakának kinézzen kisasszonya szobájának ablakából. JÁNOS. S mi lesz ebben életre való, a mi halált hozhat ama házasságra? BORACHIO. A méreg ott lappang, csak keverni kell. Ön elmegy bátyjához, a herczeghez; nem kiméli a szót; elmondja neki, hogy bizony árt a saját becsületének, ha a derék Claudiót (a kinek �magasztalását ön is hatalmasan tódítja) olyan szennyes személylyel házasítja össze, mint Héro. JÁNOS. Mivel adhatok erről bizonyítékot? BORACHIO. Lesz elég bizonyíték, hogy megcsalja a herczeget, kétségbeejtse Claudiót, tönkre tegye Hérót és megölje Leonatót. Kell egyéb eredmény? JÁNOS. Csak keseríthessük őket, akármire vállalkozom. BORACHIO. Menjen hát; lessen ki alkalmas órát, hívja félre bizalmasan Péter herczeget és Claudiót, mondja nekik, hogy ön tudja, hogy Héro az én szeretőm; úgy mutassa, mintha féltené a herczeget és Claudiót, mintha szivén viselné bátyja becsületét, a ki ezt a házasságot szőtte és az ő barátja jó hírét, a kit meg akarnak csalni egy hajadonnak látszó leánynyal, mintha csak azért fedezne föl mindent. Ők aligha hiszik ezt bizonyíték nélkül; de ajánljon nekik próbát, a mi a legélethívebb lesz: hadd lássanak engem Héro ablakánál, hadd hallják, mikor Margitot Hérónak nevezem s Margit engem Claudiónak; hívja oda őket, hadd lássák ezt épen az esküvő előtti éjszakán: mert én az alatt úgy rendezem a dolgot, hogy Héro távol lesz és hűtlensége olyan tiszta igazságnak látszik, hogy azt a féltékenység bizonyosság gyanánt veszi, s minden eddigi készülődés felfordul. JÁNOS. Ám nője ki magát mindez, a mint nőheti, bárha ellenem is, én megkisérlem. BORACHIO. Legyen a vádaskodásban szilárd; engem ravaszságom nem hagy szégyenben. JÁNOS. Megyek tüstént, a házasság napját megtudni. �III. SZÍN. Leonato kertjében. Bencze. BENCZE. Hej, fiú! Egy Fiú jön. FIÚ. Tessék! BENCZE. Oda benn az ablakban van egy könyv: hozd ki ide a kertbe. FIÚ. Már itt is vagyok, uram. BENCZE. Azt tudom; de úgy szeretném, hogy már oda volnál s megint itt. (A fiú el.) Csodálom, hogy az ember, látva a másikat, milyen bolond, mikor a szivét szerelemre adja, mégis, miután nagyokat nevetett mások hülye bolondságán, szerelembe eshetik és saját gúnyjának tárgyává teszi magát. Pedig ilyen ember Claudio. Emlékezem, mikor még egyéb zene nem is volt neki, mind a dob és a tárogató; most szivesebben hallgatja a kobozt és a fuvolát. Emlékezem, mikor még tíz mértföldre gyalogolt volna, hogy egy szép fegyverzetet lásson; most tíz éjszaka álmatlanul elheverne, hogy egy új mellény szabásán törje az eszét. Eddig kereken szokott szólani a dolog velejéhez, mint tisztességes emberhez és katonához illik, most a szócsintan hive lett, szavai egy egész czifra ebédet képeznek, mind megannyi egy különcz tál étel. Változhatom-e én ekkorát, míg a magam szemével látok? Nem mondhatom meg; nem gondolom; esküdni ugyan nem mernék, tán engem is osztrigává puhíthat a szerelem; de már arra hitet teszek, hogy míg osztrigává nem változhat, ilyen bolondot nem csinál belőlem. Egyik asszony szép, de én helyt állok; a másik eszes, de én helyt állok: míg csak minden báj nem egyesül egy asszonyban, engem egyik sem bájol el. Gazdag legyen, az bizonyos; eszes, mert különben nem kell; erényes, különben nem hederítek rá; szép, vagy rá se nézek; nyájas, vagy ne is jöjjön közel hozzám; nemes, mert különben én leszek „nem”-es; jó társalgó, kitünő �zenész, s aztán a haja lehet olyan színű, a milyet az Isten adott neki. – Ahá, a herczeg és a szerelmes úrfi. Elbúvok a lugasba. (Félrevonúl.) Péter herczeg, Leonato, Claudio, aztán Boldizsár és Zenészek jönnek. HERCZEG. No, meghallgassuk e zenét? CLAUDIO. Igen, Fölség. Mi szép az este: minth’ azért Pihenne így, hogy szebb legyen zenénk. HERCZEG. Láttad, hová rejtőzött Bencze? CLAUDIO. Igen: ha a zenének vége lesz, Kiugrasszuk a rókát a bokorból. HERCZEG. No, Boldizsár, hogy is volt hát az a dal? BOLDIZSÁR. Fölség, ne mérje rám, rossz énekemre, Hogy a zenét rontsam másodszor is. HERCZEG. Ez is csak a kitünőség jele: Álarcz alá rejted művészeted. Kérlek, dalolj, ne kéresd magad’ tovább. �BOLDIZSÁR. Ha kéretésről szól, úgy dalolok; Hiszen sok kérő kér meg oly leányt, Kit nem hisz érdemesnek, s mégis kéri, Sőt esküszik, hogy őt imádja. HERCZEG. Kérlek, Ha még tovább akarsz vitázni, tedd Kótára. BOLDIZSÁR. Oh, uram, mind összevéve Kótát, nótát, együtt sem ér egy jótát. HERCZEG. Ej, ej, ne pengesd: többet ér dalod, mint E toldta-foldta kóta-nóta-jóta. (Zene.) BENCZE. (félre). No most, isteni zene! most el van a lelke ragadtatva. Hát nem furcsa az, hogy a juh-bél kiragadja a lelket az emberi testből? Csakugyan kürtöltetek kedvemre egyet a magam pénzén, ha ennek vége lesz. BOLDIZSÁR. (énekel). Lányok ne sirjatok, hiszen A férfiak mind csalárdak: �Fél lábok parton, fél vizen, Egyhez soh’ sem szilárdak. Rájok se hajts, Ne is sohajts, Ne búslakodj’ hijába, Bút és panaszt dalolva fojts Vidám hejeh-hujáhba. * Ne énekelj bús-méla dalt Az elmult szebb időrül; Mindig így volt: a férfi csalt, Mióta fű-fa zöldül. Rájok se hajts stb. HERCZEG. Igazán mondom, jó dal. BOLDIZSÁR. De rossz dalos, uram. HERCZEG. De bizony nem; elég jól énekelsz te műkedvelőnek. BENCZE. (félre). Ha egy eb vonyított volna így, azt agyony ütnék érte. Adja isten, hogy ez az ordítás ne jelentsen semmi veszedelmet; én legalább szivesebben hallgattam volna a holló-károgást, pedig azt valami csapás szokta kisérni. HERCZEG. Úgy, igaz! hallod-e, Boldizsár? Szerezz nekünk valami kitünő zenészeket, mert holnap estére Héro kisasszony ablakához akarjuk rendelni. �BOLDIZSÁR. A milyet csak teremthetek, felséges uram. HERCZEG. Úgy, úgy! Isten veled! (Boldizsár és a Zenészek el.) HERCZEG. Gyere csak, Leonato: mit is beszéltél te nekem ma, hogy húgod, Beátrisz, szerelmes Benczébe? CLAUDIO. Hm, hm. (Félre Péter herczeghez.) Csak vigyázva, ott lapul a madár. (Fen.) Sohasem gondoltam volna, hogy ez a leány akárkit is megszeressen. LEONATO. Biz én sem; de csodálatos, hogy épen Benczét szerette meg, a kit gyűlölni látszott egész külső magaviseletéből. BENCZE. (félre). Lehetséges-e? Hát innen fúj a szél? LEONATO. Csakugyan, felséges uram, nem tudom, mit gondoljak róla; de hogy olyan őrületes szenvedélylyel szereti, az már túljár az emberi ész határán. HERCZEG. Talán csak szinleli? CLAUDIO. �Az valószínű. LEONATO. Oh én Istenem! szinleli! Nem járhat szinlelt szenvedély soha oly közel az élő szenvedélyhez, mint nála nyilvánul. HERCZEG. Milyen jeleit mutatja e szenvedélynek? CLAUDIO. (félre). Csak tartsuk jól a horgot, pedzi már a hal. LEONATO. Milyen jeleit, uram? Úgy el-űl magányosan – (Claudióhoz) hiszen neked mondta a lányom, hogyan. CLAUDIO. Mondta, mondta. HERCZEG. Hogy-hogy? kérlek. Egészen elámúlok; azt gondoltam volna, ennek a leánynak a lelke ellenáll a szerelem minden rohamának. LEONATO. Én meg is mertem volna rá esküdni, fölség; kivált Bencze irányában. BENCZE. (félre). Cselnek hinnám az egészet, ha ez az ősz szakálu legény nem mondaná; de kujonság nem bújhat ilyen tisztes mezbe. CLAUDIO. �(félre). Már kapkod a maszlaghoz, csak tartani kell. HERCZEG. Tudatta-e szerelmét Benczével? LEONATO. Nem; sőt fogadja, hogy nem is tudatja soha: ez gyötri szegényt. CLAUDIO. Épen ez a baj, a mint Héro beszéli „Hogy írjam én – azt mondja – a ki annyiszor gúnyolódtam vele, hogy írjam most, hogy szeretem őt?” LEONATO. Ezzel végzi mindannyiszor, ha írni kezd: mert húszszor is fölkel egy éjjel, oda űl hálóköntösében, s egész ív papirt teleír. Leányom mindent elmond. CLAUDIO. Az ív papirról jut szembe, a mit ma beszélt Héro. LEONATO. Oh, hogy a teleírt papirra tekintve, azon egyebet sem látott, mint Benczét és Beátriszt. CLAUDIO. Igen, igen. LEONATO. De ezer darabra tépte a papirt, mint egy-egy kis pénz; aztán kinevette maga magát, hogy írni akar olyaskihez, a kiről tudja, hogy kigúnyolná. „Magamról itéltem meg,” azt mondja, „mert én is kicsufolnám, ha ő írna nekem: ki én ha szeretem is.” CLAUDIO. �Aztán térdre esik, sír, zokog, veri a mellét, tépi a haját, könyörög, jajgat. – „Oh, édes Bencze! Istenem, adj türelmet!” LEONATO. Így tesz, igazán: leányom mondja. A rajongás annyira erőt vesz rajta, hogy Héro néha attól fél, valami kétségbeesett őrjöngést követ el magán. Sajnos, hogy így van. HERCZEG. Jó volna, hogy Bencze tudná meg valaki mástól, ha ő maga nem akarja elárulni előtte. CLAUDIO. Mit érne? Csak térfát űzne belőle s még jobban gyötörné szegény leányt. HERCZEG. Ha megtenné, kegyes tett volna felkötni érte. Beátrisz kitünő kedves, derék leány s még a rágalom sem meri bántani. CLAUDIO. És kiválóan okos. HERCZEG. Csak abban nem, hogy Benczét szereti. LEONATO. Oh, fölség, ha okosság és hő vér ilyen gyönge testben összevész, tizet teheti egyre, hogy a vér lesz a győztes. Én nagyon sajnálom, van is okom rá, mert bátyja és gyámja vagyok. HERCZEG. Bár hozzám vonzódnék hajlama: félretennék minden egyéb tekintetet, hogy magamévá tegyem. Kérlek, beszéljetek Benczével, tudjuk meg, mit mond reá? LEONATO. �Gondolja fölség, jó lenne? CLAUDIO. Héró bizonyosnak hiszi, hogy belehel Beátrisz: mert azt mondja, ő meghal, ha Bencze nem szereti; de inkább meghal, mint saját szerelmét tudassa vele; és inkább meghal, ha megkérné is Bencze, mint szokott makranczosságából egy cseppet is engedjen. HERCZEG. Jól teszi: ha gyöngéden nyilvánítaná szerelmét, nagyon lehet, Bencze kigúnyolná: mert ez az ember, a mint tudjátok, szeret fitymálódni. CLAUDIO. Hanem nyalka legény. HERCZEG. Az igaz, hogy csínos külsővel van megáldva. CLAUDIO. Isten kegyelméből, az én véleményem szerint, esze is van. HERCZEG. Valóban akad nála olyan szikra, a mi elmésségnek megjárja. LEONATO. Úgy tudom, bátor is. HERCZEG. Mint maga Hektor, erről biztosítlak; czivódások elintézésében pedig mondhatni, igazi bölcs: mert vagy nagy ildommal lecsillapítja, vagy csak a legnagyobb keresztyéni félelemmel fog hozzá. LEONATO. �Ha istenfélő, akkor szükségkép békét kell tartania, s ha megszegi, félelemmel és rettegéssel fogjon a czivódáshoz. HERCZEG. Úgy is cselekszik: mert ez az ember isténfélő, ha nem látszik is némely vastag tréfájából. – No én sajnálom a húgodat. Megkeressük-e Benczét, hogy húgod szerelméről értesítsük? CLAUDIO. Soha, fölség: majd Beátrisz is csillapul a jó tanácsra. LEONATO. Az lehetetlen: inkább szive csillapul el végkép. HERCZEG. Majd többet hallunk róla leányodtól; addig hadd hűljön. Én szeretem Benczét, s kivánom, bár mérné meg szerényen magát, hadd lássa, mennyire érdemetlen ő ilyen derék leányra. LEONATO. Fölség, kész a ebéd, tessék besétálni. CLAUDIO. (félre). Ha erre sem szeret bele, többé nem bízom semmi várakozásomban. HERCZEG. (félre). Ezt a hálót kell kivetni Beátrisz ellen is; de ez leányodnak és társalgónőjének a gondja. Az lesz aztán a tréfa, mikor egymást minden alap nélkül kölcsönösen szerelmesnek vélik; szeretném látni ezt a jelenetet: hihetőleg csupa merő néma-játék lesz. Majd küldjük ki a leányt, hogy emezt hívja ebédre. (Péter herczeg, Claudio és Leonato el.) BENCZE. �(előjöve a lugosból). Ez nem lehet csalás; a tanácskozás komolyan folyt. Hérótól hallották egész valóságában. Úgy látszik, szánják a leányt, kinek szenvedélye a legvégsőig van feszítve. Szerelmes én belém! No ezt viszonozni kell. Hiszen hallom, hogy itélnek rólam; azt mondják, majd kevélyen viselem magamat, ha észreveszem, hogy ő szeret; azt is mondják, hogy a leány inkább meghal, mint érzelmét bármi jel által elárulja. Én sohase gondoltam a házasságra. Kevélynek nem akarok látszani. Szerencsés, a ki meghallja saját fogyatkozásait, s jóvá teheti azokat. Azt mondják, hogy a leány szép: ez igaz, ezt én is bizonyítom; erényes is: ez is való, nem tagadhatom; meg okos is, csak abban nem, hogy belém szeretett. Ez bizony nem igen gyarapítja az okosságát, de oktalanságát sem bizonyítja, mert én is rettenetes szerelmes leszek ő belé. Ezért, tudom, sok csípős tréfát és élczeket szórnak ellenem, mert mindig gúnyolódtam a házassággal. De nem változik-e az étvágy? Fiatal korában sok olyan ételt szeret az ember, a mit öregségében már nem állhat. A csipkedések, birálgatások, az agynak e papirlövegei, elijeszszék-e az embert jó kedvének útjából? Nem: a világot népesíteni kell. Mikor én azt mondtam, hogy legényfejjel halok meg, nem gondoltam, hogy éljek, míg megházasadom. – Jön Beátrisz. A napsugárra mondom, szép egy leány: némi jelét a szerelemnek már veszem észre rajta. Beátrisz jő. BEÁTRISZ. Akaratom ellen küldtek, hogy hívjam önt ebédre. BENCZE. Szép Beátrisz, köszönöm a fáradságát. BEÁTRISZ. Nem fáradtam többet e köszönetért, mint ön fárad e köszönettel; ha fárasztó lett volna, nem jöttem volna. BENCZE. Tehát kedve telt a küldetésben? BEÁTRISZ. Annyi, a mennyit egy kés hegyére vehet, hogy egy csókát megmérgezzen vele. – Önnek nincs étvágya: jó mulatást! (El.) �BENCZE. Ahá! „Akaratom ellen küldtek, hogy hívjam önt ebédre:” ez kétértelmű. „Nem fáradtam többet e köszönetért, mint ön fárad e köszönettel:” ez azt teszik, hogy: akármi fáradság, a mit önért teszek, olyan könnyü, mint egy köszönet. Gazember legyek, ha nem sajnálom; zsidó legyek, ha bele nem szerettem. Megyek, megszerzem az arczképét. (El.) HARMADIK FELVONÁS. I. SZÍN. Leonato kertje. Héro, Margit és Ursula jönnek. HÉRO. Jó Margitom, szaladj csak a szobába, Beátrisz a herczeggel s Claudióval Ott társalognak: a mint megtalálod, Súgd meg neki, hogy én és Ursula Itt séta közben mind őt emlegetjük; Mondd, hogy te is sokáig hallgatóztál S kérd, hogy lopódzék e sürű lugosba, Hol a folyondár, melyet a nap érlelt, Kizárja a napot, mint a kegyencz, Kit a király teremt s ki gőgösen Szülő hatalma ellen fordul. Itt Elbújva ő is mindent hallhat. Ezt Bízom reád, ügyes légy, most eredj. MARGIT. Biztos lehet, hogy rögtön elhozom. �(El.) HÉRO. No, Ursulám, mikor kijön Beátrisz, Míg itt föl és alá sétálgatunk, Csak Bencze úr felől fogunk beszélni; Ha én nevét említem, a te dolgod Dicsérni úgy, mint még embert soha! Én azt beszélem el, milyen szerelmes Beatriszunkba: e csel ajzza föl A kis Cupidónak csalárd nyilát, Mely hallgatózva is sebez. No kezdjük. Beátrisz jő hátul. Mert nézd: Beátrisz, mint bíbicz, lopózik, Földhöz lapúlva, hogy titkunk kilesse. URSULA. Szép látni a halat, horgászva, hogy vág Ezüst habon arany szárnyával át S hogy kapja el, mohón csal-ételét: Így lessük itt Beátriszot, ki épen Most búvik a folyondárok mögé. Ne féljen, én mondókámat tudom. HÉRO. Jerünk közel, hogy semmit el ne ejtsen Édes csalételünkből a füle. – (Közelebb mennek a lugashoz.) Nem, Ursulám, nem, ő nagyon kevély; Én ismerem; kedélye oly szilaj, vad, Mint bérczi sólyom. �URSULA. Ugy, de biztos-e Hogy Bencze úr olyan forrán imádja? HÉRO. Jegyesem mondja és a herczeg is. URSULA. S mondták-e, hogy Beátriszszal közölje? HÉRO. Kértek nagyon, hogy mondjam el neki; De lebeszéltem őket, mert ha Benczét Szeretik, akkor inkább hagyni kell Küzködni őt e gyötrő érzelemmel, És nem tudatni Beátriszszal soha. URSULA. De hát miért? Nem érdemelne-é Ez a levente ollyan bolgod ágyat, A milyenen Beátrisz fog nyugodni? HÉRO. Oh szerelemnek istene! Dehogy nem! Megérdemel jobbat, mint bárki más. De a természet nem formált soha Olyan kemény anyagból női szívet, Mint a Beátriszé: gúny, gőg czikázik Szikrázva a szemében; megveti, �A mire csak tekint; úgy túlbecsűli Saját eszét, hogy ahhoz mérve mindent Fitymál, kicsínyel; ő szeretni nem tud, Sem elfogadni bárminő alakban Ily érzeményt: magát oly nagyra tartja. URSULA. Igaz, tudom. Bizony nem volna jó, Ha sejtené a Bencze úr szerelmét: Mert csúfot űzne aztán ezzel is. HÉRO. Természetes. Nincs férfi, bármilyen Eszes, derék, ifjú, sugár növésű, Hogy ő ne a visszájáról betűzze; Ha arcza fínom: húgom-asszonyos, Ha barna: a természet által ejtett Torz tintafolt; ha szálas: dárdanyél; Ha alacsony: kontár agát-szoborka; Ha bőbeszédű: forgó szélkakas; Ha hallgatag: fa-tuskó, szája-táti, Mindenkit a fonák felére fordit, S való erény sem éri nála el, Mit egyszerű hűség megérdemel. URSULA. Ez a csufolkodás nem épp ajánló. HÉRO. Nem; ily csodálatos különcz modor, mint �Beátriszé, ajánló nem lehet Hanem ki merné mondani neki? Ha szólanék: szemtől-szembe kigúnyol, Agyon-nevet, kiforgat enmagamból. Tehát had’ égjen s mint az eltakart tűz Emészsze Bencze még búban magát. Jobb, ily halál, mint a gúny ölje meg, Minél agyon-csiklandozás se rosszabb. URSULA. Tán mégis értesítse s lássa, mit szól? HÉRO. Nem én, nem: inkább Benczéhez megyek, Annak tanácslom, nyomja el szerelmét; Majd holmi ártatlan rágalmat is Kigondolok s Beátriszot bemártom. Mert meg se hiszszük ám, hogy meg lehet Mérgezni egy rossz szóval a szerelmet. URSULA. Oh, még se bántson így meg egy rokont: Hisz, a ki oly elmés és gyors eszü, Mint róla mondják, az még sem lehet Oly oktalan, hogy így elútasítson Ily ritka férfiút, mint Bencze úr. HÉRO. Páratlan ember ő Itáliában, Az én kedves Claudiómat kivéve. �URSULA. Ha nem neheztel érte a kisasszony, Kimondom a hitem’, hogy Bencze úr Alakra, észre, férfi-érdemekre Egész Itáliában a legelső. HÉRO. Kitünő híre van tagadhatatlan. URSULA. Előbb, mint kapta, már megérdemelte. – Mikor van a kisasszony esküvője? HÉRO. Maholnap – holnap. Úgy, igaz, gyere: Nézzük meg a ruháimat s tanácsolj, Mi lenne holnap a legdíszesebb? URSULA. (félre). Lépen ragadt, megfogtuk, higye el. HÉRO. (félre). Hja a szerelem csak vakon botorkál, Ámor hol nyíllal öl, hol tőrbe csal. (Héro és Ursula el.) BEÁTRISZ. �(előlépve). Miért tüzel fülem? Való e az? gúnyért, daczért mindenki így gyaláz? Isten veled, kevélység, szűzi dacz! Mögöttetek dicsőség nem tanyáz. S te Bencze, csak szeress, én azt viszonzom: Vad szívem hű kezednek meghajol. Szeress: én nyájas összébbre vonzom A szent kötelet, mely hozzád csatol. Téged dicsér mindenki: ah, hiszen Én azt mindenkinél jobban hiszem. (El.) II. SZÍN. Szoba Leonato házában. Péter Herczeg, Claudio, Bencze és Leonato. HERCZEG. Én csak addig maradok itt, míg házasságodat megkötjük, s aztán megyek Arragon felé. CLAUDIO. Ha megengedi, fölség, elkisérem addig. HERCZEG. Nem, nem: olyan foltot ejtene ez nász-örömöd ragyogásán, mint ha a gyermeknek új köntöst mutatnak, de nem engedik neki fölvenni. Csak Bencze szives társaságát leszek bátor kikérni: mert ez a fiú a feje tetejétől talpa hegyéig csupa jókedv; kétszer-háromszor elmetszette Cupido nyilának húrját s az a kis hóhér még sem mert rá lőni. Szive vidáman cseng, mint a harang, s nyelve hozzá az ütő, mert a mit szive érez, nyelve kimondja. �BENCZE. Uraim, nem az vagyok már, a ki voltam. LEONATO. Én is azt mondom; úgy látszik, szomorúbb vagy. CLAUDIO. Azt hiszem, szerelmes. HERCZEG. Mennydörgettét, nincs ő benne egy csepp vér sem, a mit a szerelem meg tudna illetni. Ha szomorú, hát nincs pénze. BENCZE. Fáj a fogam. HERCZEG. Hisz azt kihúzzák. BENCZE. Kössék föl! CLAUDIO. Hohó! előbb kössék, azután húzzák. HERCZEG. Eh! így megsohajtozni egy kis fogfájásért! LEONATO. Mikor egy csepp nedv vagy egy piczi féreg az egész. �BENCZE. Könnyen tűri mindenki a bajt, míg nem érzi. CLAUDIO. Én mégis azt mondom, hogy szerelmes. HERCZEG. Nem szerelmes biz ő, ha csak azokba az idegen öltözetekbe nem, a miket magára szed: például ma hollandi, holnap franczia; vagy két ország divatjában is egyszerre: a mellénytől lefelé német, csupa bugyogó; és csípőtől fölfelé galléros spanyol. Ha csak ebbe a bolondságba nem szerelmes (úgy látszik, hogy az), a szerelembe ugyan nem bolond, mint te akarod ráfogni. CLAUDIO. Ha ez nem szerelmes, a régi jeleknek sem lehet hitelt adni. Hiszen minden reggel megkeféli a kalapját: mit jelentene ez? HERCZEG. Látta-e valaki a borbélynál? CLAUDIO. Nem; de a borbélylegényt láttuk nála, és állának egykori dísze azóta lapdába van tömve. LEONATO. Valóban fiatalabb, mint volt, levétette a szakálát. HERCZEG. Aztán illattal öntözi magát: nem érzik-e ebből is valami? CLAUDIO. Az érzik ki belőle, szerelem lesz belőle. �HERCZEG. Legnagyobb bizonyíték a búmélasága. CLAUDIO. Aztán szokta-e ő valaha így kifenni az arczát? HERCZEG. Vagy így kikenni magát? Ezt bizony a világ nem hagyja szó nélkül. CLAUDIO. Hát csapongó kedve! az meg egy koboz húrjába bújt és most csavarra jár. HERCZEG. És szomorú regét mond róla. Végre is, szerelmes biz ő. CLAUDIO. Én tudom, hogy ki szereti. HERCZEG. Azt én is szeretném tudni: fogadok rá, hogy a ki szereti, nem ismeri. CLAUDIO. De bizony, még a rossz tulajdonait is; és mind ennek daczára meghal érte. HERCZEG. Akkor kiterítik, arczczal fölfelé. BENCZE. Erre bizony nem fájna a fogam. (Leonatóhoz.) Uram bátyám, jöjjön velem egy kissé: megtanultam nyolcz-kilencz okos szót, azt szeretném elmondani, hanem e vessző-lovagoknak nem szükség hallaniok. �(Bencze és Leonato el.) HERCZEG. Fogadok, hogy Beátriszt kéri meg tőle. CLAUDIO. Bizonyosan. Héro és Margit azóta elvégezték szerepöket Beátriszszal, s akkor a két morgó medve nem harapja meg egymást, ha találkoznak. János jő. JÁNOS. Fölséges bátyám, fogadja üdvözletem’. HERCZEG. Jó estét, öcsém. JÁNOS. Ha ideje engedi, szólani óhajtok vele. HERCZEG. Négy szem közt? JÁNOS. Ha úgy tetszik! egyébiránt Claudio gróf hallhatja, mert őt illeti, a mit mondani akarok. HERCZEG. Nos, mi az? JÁNOS. (Claudióhoz). Ön holnap szándékozik megesküdni? �HERCZEG. A mint te is tudod. JÁNOS. Bizony nem tudom, ha ő megtudja, a mit én tudok. CLAUDIO. Ha valami akadály van, kérem, fedezze föl. JÁNOS. Meglehet, ön azt hiszi, hogy én nem vagyok jó embere; ez majd kiderül utóbb, s jobbat fog tartani rólam, mostani tettem után. A mi bátyámat illeti, ő, úgy tudom, kegyeli önt és jó indulatú szivvel segítette létrehozni tervezett házasságát. Bizonyára füstbe ment terv, kárba veszett fáradság. HERCZEG. Miért, mi a baj? JÁNOS. Azért jöttem, hogy ezt megmondjam; tehát rövidre fogva a szót (mert már is soká beszélünk róla) az a kisasszony hűtelen. CLAUDIO. Ki? Héro? JÁNOS. Épenségesen az. Leonato Hérója, az ön Hérója, egész világ Hérója. CLAUDIO. Hűtelen? �JÁNOS. Ez a szó nagyon is jó arra, hogy aljasságát lefesse: bátran mondhatom, hogy ő maga rosszabb; gondoljon ön rosszabb czímet, én rögtön bele illesztem azt a leányt. Ne csodálkozzák, míg további bizonyítékot nem lát: jöjjön velem az éjjel, megláthatja, hogy járnak be ablakán épen az esküvő előtti éjszakán; ha aztán akkor is szereti, vegye el holnap; de jobban megilleti becsületét, hogy szándékát megmásítsa. CLAUDIO. Igaz lehetne ez? HERCZEG. Én nem akarom hinni. JÁNOS. Ha nem meri hinni, a mit lát, majd ne vallja meg, a mit tud. Ha velem jönnek, én mutatok annyit, a mi elég; s mikor aztán többet láttak és többet hallottak, cselekedjenek ahhoz képest. CLAUDIO. Ha valóban látok valamit az éjjel, én holnap nem esküszöm meg vele; a násznép előtt szégyenítem meg, mely esküvőnkre összegyűl. HERCZEG. És én, a mint az eljegyzésben segítettelek, veled leszek meggyalázásában is. JÁNOS. Nem becsmérlem tovább, míg önök is tanúim nem lesznek: várjanak békén éjfélig, s a jövendő hadd mutassa meg magát. HERCZEG. Oh ellenünk fordúlt nap! CLAUDIO. Oh váratlanul jött szerencsétlenség! �JÁNOS. Oh jókor elhárított csapás! ezt fogják önök mondani, ha látták, a mi rájok vár. III. SZÍN. Utcza. Galagonya, Bunkós és Két Őr. GALAGONYA. Hű és igaz emberek vagytok? BUNKÓS. A bizony: mert különben jaj volna nekik; testestül, lelkestül a pokolra kárt hoznának. GALAGONYA. Még ez nagyon kevés büntetés lenne, ha csak egy mákszemnyi törvényes lépést elkövetnének is, minekutána őrnek álltak a herczeg szolgálatjába. BUNKÓS. No hát, adja, meg kend nekik a szükséges kiutasításokat, Galagonya szomszéd. GALAGONYA. Először is, ki volna köztetek a legbizalmasabb ember, a ki megfelelne a biztosi állománynak? 1. ŐR. Bodag János, uram, vagy Kormos György, mert azok írni, olvasni tudnak. GALAGONYA. �Lépj elő? Kormos szomszéd. Az Isten téged szép névvel áldott meg; de a szépség a szerencse ajándéka; hanem az írás, olvasás, az már a természettől jön. 2. ŐR. Biztos uram, én mind a kettővel – GALAGONYA. Meg vagy áldva: tudom, hogy ezt akartad mondani. No jól van: a mi a szépségedet illetményezi, adj hálát Istennek és ne dicsekedj vele; a mi pedig az írást, olvasást, ezt se tüntesd ki, csak olyankor, ha az ilyen hivalkodásra semmi szükség nincs. Minekutána tehát téged tartanak a legügyesebb és legilletéktelenebb embernek, hogy az őrjárat biztosává kineveztessél, tehát te viszed a lámpást. Ez lészen az utasításod. Minden gyanus vagy másképen jellemes egyént letartóztattok; minden embert megállíttok a herczeg nevében. 2. ŐR. De hát ha nem áll meg? GALAGONYA. Akkor nem vesztek róla tudomást, csak eresztitek tovább, és rögtön összehíván az egész őrséget, hálát adtok az Istennek, hogy egy gazembert leráztatok a nyakatokról. BUNKÓS. Mert ha a kiáltásra meg nem áll, akkor nem is a mi herczegünk alattvalója az. GALAGONYA. Úgy van; nekik pedig mással semmi közük, csak a mi herczegünk alattavalóival. Aztán lármát ne üssetek az útczán, mert az őrségnek a hangos beszéd és fecsegés szorosan tiltatik és szigoruan meghagyatik. 2. ŐR. Nem is beszélgetünk mi, inkább alszunk: tudjuk mink, hogy mi a hű bakter kötelessége. GALAGONYA. �No lám, úgy beszélsz, mint valamely régi kipróbált bakter; mert a ki alszik, az csakugyan nem tehet semmi kárt; csak arra vigyázzatok, hogy a dárdátokat el ne lopják. Aztán sorba néztek, minden korcsmát és a hol részeg embereket találtok, haza külditek, hogy feküdjenek le. 2. ŐR. De hát ha nem akarnak menni? GALAGONYA. Akkor ott hagyjátok, míg kijózanodnak. Ha pedig illedelmesen találnának beszélni veletek, mondjátok neki, hogy nem néztétek volna őket olyan embereknek. 2. ŐR. Értem, kérem alásan. GALAGONYA. Ha tolvajjal találkoztok, hivatalos hatalmatoknál fogva, bátran gyanúba foghatjátok, hogy nem becsületes ember; ilyen fajta emberekkel pedig minél kevesebbet érintkeztek, annál nagyobb becsületére válik. 2. ŐR. Ha megismerjük, hogy tolvaj, ne fogjuk el? GALAGONYA. Hivatalotoknál fogva voltaképen megtehetitek; csakhogy a ki szurokhoz nyúl, elkeveri magát. Legbékességesebb útja-módja, ha tolvajt fogtok, reá hagyni, hadd mutassa meg, mi a mesterséges hadd lópozzék el tőletek. BUNKÓS. Kendet, komám, mindig ilyen irgalmas szivűnek ismerték. GALAGONYA. Én bizony meg nem fojtanék egy ebet a magam jószántából, inkább meg egy olyan embert, a ki valamely törvényességet elkövet. �BUNKÓS. Aztán, ha az éjjel valami gyereksírást hallotok, szóljatok a dajkának, hogy csillapítsa le. 2. ŐR. De hátha alszik a dajka és nem hallgat ránk? GALAGONYA. Akkor odább mentek békességgel, hadd költse föl a gyereksírás: mert a melyik juh nem hallgat a bárányára, ha béget, soha sem felel az a farkasnak, ha ordít. BUNKÓS. E már igaz. GALAGONYA. Eddig tart az utasítástok. Kend, biztos, a herczegnek saját személyét figurázza: ha az éjszaka a herczeggel találkozik kend, azt is megállíthatja. BUNKÓS. Nem a: azt istók-ugyse nem állíthatja. GALAGONYA. Öt garast teszek egyre, akárki előtt, a ki e regulamentát tudja, hogy megállíthatja: már tudniillik nem a herczeg akaratja ellenére, mert hiszen az őrnek nem szabad megsérteni senkit, az pedig sértés volna, hogy az embert akaratja ellenére megállítsa. BUNKÓS. Istók-márja-ugyse, a biz igaz. GALAGONYA. Ha, ha, ha! No, atyafiak, jó éjszakát; ha pedig valami különös fontos dolog fordúlna elő, jelentsék nekem. Jól rendbe szedjétek magatokat; jó éjszakát. Jöjjön kend, szomszéd. �2. ŐR. Tudjuk már, uram, a kötelességünket: gyerünk, üljünk ide a templom padjára két óráig, akkor aztán haza megyünk aludni. GALAGONYA. Még egy szóra, becsületes atyafiak. Különösen vigyázzatok Leonato úr háza körűl, mert ott holnap lakadalom lesz, annálfogva sokan megfordulnak ott az éjjel. Legyetek héberek. Adjon Isten! (Galagonya és Bunkós el.) Borachio és Konrád jönnek. BORACHIO. Hej, Konrád! 1. ŐR. (halkan). Pssz! Meg ne mozduljunk. BORACHIO. Konrád, merre vagy? KONRÁD. Itt, no, a könyöködnél. BORACHIO. Éreztem ugyan, hogy viszket a könyököm, de azt gondoltam, attól van, hogy dicsérnek. KONRÁD. Erre most adós maradok a felelettel; csak mondd tovább, a mit elkezdtél. BORACHIO. �Állj ide az eresz alá, mert permetez az eső; mindent elmondok olyan igazán, akár egy részeg ember. 1. ŐR. (halkan). Valami árulás, atyafiak: egy kukkot se! BORACHIO. Hát tudd meg, hogy én János herczegtől ezer aranyat kaptam. KONRÁD. Hogy lehet valamely gazságnak ilyen nagy ára? BORACHIO. Inkább azt kérdezd, hogy lehet valamely gazság ilyen gazdag: mert ha a gazdag gazember rászorul a szegényre, a szegény olyan árat szabhat, a milyet akar. KONRÁD. No ezt csodálom. BORACHIO. Látszik, hogy még nem vagy beavatva. Nos, de azt úgy-e tudod, hogy a kalap, az inggallér vagy az öltöny divatja semmi? KONRÁD. De igen: ruházat. BORACHIO. Nem, nem; én a divatot értem. KONRÁD. A divat, az meg divat. �BORACHIO. Teringettét! ez olyan, mintha én azt mondanám: a bolond, az meg bolond. No, hát látod-e, milyen alakos tolvaj ez a divat. 1. ŐR. (halkan). Ahá! én jól ismerem ezt a herr fon Alakost: kötni való tolvaj már hét esztendő óta; úgy jár elő s hátra, mint valami úri ember. Emlékezem a nevére. BORACHIO. Nem hallottál valami szót? KONRÁD. Nem, a vitorla csikorog a ház tetején. BORACHIO. Hát, mondom, látod-e, milyen alakos tolvaj a divat? Hogy megszédíti a fiatalság eszét, tizennégy és harminczöt év között? Néha úgy öltözteti őket, mint Farao katonái vannak öltözve amott a füstös olajfestményen; néha úgy, mint Bél papjai az ó templom ablakán; néha pedig, mint a megkopasztott Herkules a molyette fakó szőnyegen. KONRÁD. Mind elhiszem; azt is tudom, hogy a divat több ruhát elnyű, mint az emberek. De nem szédített-e meg magadat is a divat, hogy kitérsz a beszédedből s a divatról kezdesz szólani? BORACHIO. Nem, engem ugyan nem. Nos, hát annyi volt az eset, hogy én az éjjel szerelmeskedtem Margittal, Héro kisasszony társlagónőjével, Héro neve alatt; ő kihajol hozzám kisasszonya ablakából, jó éjszakát kiván ezerszer is… Ej, bolondúl kezdtem a dolgot: azt kellett volna először elmondanom, hogy a herczeg, meg Claudio, meg az én gazdám, János herczeg terve szerint kiállítva, elhelyezve és megbabonázva, hogyan nézték a szerelmes találkozást távolról a kertben. �KONRÁD. És Margitot Hérónak gondolták? BORACHIO. Kettejök annak, a herczeg és Claudio; de az ördög, a gazdám, jól tudta, hogy Margit. Így aztán részint gazdám esküje, mely előre megbabonázta őket, részint a sötét éjszaka, mely megcsalta őket, de főleg az én furfangosságom, mely János herczeg minden rágalmait megerősíté, roppant dühbe hozta Claudiót: esküdözött, hogy amint már ki volt tűzve, holnap elmegy a templomba, s ott az egész gyülekezet előtt becsteleníti meg Hérót azzal, a mit az éjjel látott, s akkor haza kergeti férj nélkül. 1. ŐR. Megállj! A herczeg nevében, megálljatok! 2. ŐR. Elő kell hívni az őrvezető urat. A legveszedelmesebb bűnkisértetet fedeztük fel, a milyet valaha a város hallott. 1. Őr. Bizonyos Alakos nevű az egyik; jól ismerem, göndör haja van neki. KONRÁD. Barátaim, uraim… 2. ŐR. Majd előhozatjuk mi kenddel azt az alakost, ezt már fogadom. KONRÁD. Barátaim… 1. ŐR. Ne beszéljen: a mi hivatalunk szigoruan engedelmeskedni mindenkinek, a kit bekisérünk. �(Mind el.) IV. SZÍN. Szoba Leonato házában. Héro, Margit és Ursula. HÉRO. Édes Ursula, ébreszd föl Beátriszt és kérd meg, hogy keljen föl. URSULA. Megyek, kisasszony. HÉRO. Kérd, hogy jöjjön ide. URSULA. Igenis. (Ursula el.) MARGIT. Én úgy gondolom, hogy a másik galléra jobban állna. HÉRO. Nem, nem, édes Margitom, én ezt akarom föltenni. MARGIT. Pedig bizony-bizony nem olyan jó; fogadom, hogy Beátrisz kisasszony is azt mondja. HÉRO. �Beátrisz balga és te is az vagy. Nekem másik nem kell, csak ez. MARGIT. Az új fejdíszét rendkivül szeretem, csak a haja volna hozzá kissé barnább. A ruhája pedig különösen szép szabású. Én láttam a milánói herczegnő ruháját, a mit oly nagyon magasztalnak. HÉRO. Oh az remek, azt mondják. MARGIT. A, biz Isten, csak hálóköntös az önéhez: csupa arany, csupa himzés, áttörve ezüsttel, megrakva gyöngygyel, alsó újja, felső újja, körűl a fodra; az egész kékkel díszítve; de mi a finom, simúló, kecses, kitűnő szabást illeti, az öné megér tíz olyat. HÉRO. Adja isten, hogy jó kedvvel viselhessem, mert a szivem rendkivül nehéz. MARGIT. Nehezebb is lesz, ha a nász terheli. HÉRO. Pfi, nem szégyenled magad’? MARGIT. Miért, kisasszony? hogy tiszességesen beszélek? Nem tisztességes-e a nász még a koldusnál is? Jegyese nem tisztességes-e nász nélkül is? Talán azt akarta volna, hogy „férj”-et mondjak? Rossz magyarázat nem csavarhatja el az igaz beszédet. Én nem sértek senkit. Van-e abban valami sértés: „Nehezebb, ha nász terheli?” Nincs, biz abban nincs, csak az igazi férj legyen és az igazi feleség; máskép, az igazi, nem nehéz, hanem könynyelmű. Kérdezze meg Beátrisz kisasszonytól, itt jön. Beátrisz jő. HÉRO. �Jó reggelt, Beátrisz. BEÁTRISZ. Jó reggelt, édes húgom. HÉRO. Nos, mi ez? miért beszélsz ilyen méla hangon? BEÁTRISZ. Kiestem a vígabb hangból. MARGIT. Kiesett, mert beleesett: „A szerelem sötét verem, benne vagyok, beleestem.” Dalolja, majd tánczolok hozzá. BEÁTRISZ. De kész volnál beletánczolni. (Héróhoz.) Mindjárt öt óra, húgom: ideje, hogy készen volnál. Én igazán beteg vagyok. MARGIT. Mije fáj? mire fáj? BEÁTRISZ. Elég, ha fáj. MARGIT. Talán renegát lett a férfigyülölőből? Akkor az éjszaki csillagban sem bizhatik többé a hajós. BEÁTRISZ. Hogy érted ezt? �MARGIT. Sehogy, sehogy. Adja meg az Isten minden szivnek, amit kiván! HÉRO. Ezt a keztyűt a gróf küldte: az illata kitűnő. BEÁTRISZ. Én nem érzem, náthám van, meg vagyok hűlve. MARGIT. Meg ám, de nem a férfiak iránt. BEÁTRISZ. Uram, teremtőm! Mióta adtad magad’ így a szójátékra? MARGIT. Mióta ön egészen felhagyott vele. Talán nem jól áll? BEÁTRISZ. Igen rikító. Főkötő kellene hozzá. – De én igazán beteg vagyok. MARGIT. Vegyen lepárolt Carduus Benedictus kórót, s tegye a szivéhez: ez az egyetlen enyhítő a bajára. HÉRO. Ez megint tövis Beátrisznak. BEÁTRISZ. Benedictus! Miért Benedictus? mi lappang e Benedictus alatt? �MARGIT. Ej, dehogy lappang, nem lappang az alatt semmi: nem egyéb, mint ezerjó tövis. Talán azt gondolja, hogy szerelmesnek gondolom; pedig nem vagyok bolond olyat gondolni, a mit tudok; sőt igazán, ha a lelkemet kigondolkoznám, sem tudnám gondolni, hogy ön szerelmes, vagy szerelmes tudna lenni. De hiszen Bencze úr is ilyen volt, s mégis, most ő is csak férfi lett; esküdözött, hogy meg nem házasodik soha, s mégis most már, vadsága daczára, megeszi az ételét morgás nélkül. Én nem tudom, megváltozhatik-e ön is; de nekem úgy tetszik, hogy a szeme olyanformán kezd állani, mint más leányé. BEÁTRISZ. Ejh, de nyargal a nyelved? MARGIT. Nem jár rossz úton. Ursula jő. URSULA. Kisasszony, vonuljon a szobájába: a herczeg, a gróf, Bencze úr, János úr és a városnak minden lovagja eljöttek, hogy kegyedet templomba kisérjék. HÉRO. Segítsenek öltözni, kedves rokon, jó Margitom, jó Ursulám V. SZÍN. Más szoba Leonato házában. Leonato, Galagonya és Bunkós. LEONATO. Nos, mit akarnak, emberséges szomszéd? (Mind el.) �GALAGONYA. Biz én, uram, valamely bizodalmas tudatást akarok közlekedni, uraságodat illetőleg. LEONATO. Csak röviden, barátom: mert lássák, nagyon el vagyok foglalva. GALAGONYA. Hát, uram, úgy van az. BUNKÓS. Igenis, úgy biz az, uram. LEONATO. De mi, és hogy, édes barátaim? GALAGONYA. Ne vegye rossz néven, uram, hogy Bunkós kollégám nem szól egyenest a dologhoz: öreg ember már, és az elméje nem épen olyan tompa, mint Isten segítségével, én óhajtanám; de különben mondhatom, olyan becsületes ember, mint orczáján a bőr. BUNKÓS. Igenis, hála Istennek, vagyok olyan becsületes ember, mint akárki fia, vagyis a ki megőszült és még sem becsületesebb nálam. GALAGONYA. Comparatio est odorosa: azt mondja a deák, barátom Bunkós. LEONATO. Szomszéd uram, kegyelmetek nagyon hosszadalmasak. GALAGONYA. �Köszönöm a jó akaratát, uram: mi csak az igénytelen herczeg szolgái vagyunk; de igaz lelkemre mondom, ha olyan hosszadalmasak és magasztosak volnánk is, mint a király, azt is mind uraságodnak szentelném. LEONATO. Minden hosszadalmasságát nekem? GALAGONYA. Igenis, ha ezerszer annyi volna is: mert jól tudom, hogy uraságod a legjobb hírnévvel van bélyegezve az egész városban, és ámbár én csak szegény ember vagyok, lelkemből örülök neki. BUNKÓS. Magam is, uram. LEONATO. Szeretném már hallani, mi a mondani valójok? BUNKÓS. Hát, uram, őrjáratunk az éjjel két olyan csavargó gazembert fogott el, a milyen nincs több Messinában, azonban kivéve uraságod becses személyét. GALAGONYA. Jó öreg ember, uram; de lám, beszélni akar: hijába, a mint mondani szokták, vén embernek meghígul a veleje. – Az igaz, hogy a világ még nem látott olyat. Jól mondod, Bunkós szomszéd. De csak engedj engem szólani: látod, ha két ember ül egy lovon, az egyiknek hátul kell ülni. Igazán, uram, becsületes egy ember: nála becsületesebb, isten bizony még nem evett kenyeret; de hát Isten akaratában meg kell nyugodni: minden ember nem lehet egyforma. Úgy-e, jó szomszéd? LEONATO. Igazán, szomszéd, ő még rövid kendhez képest. GALAGONYA. �Úgy-e, uram, rövidségben van? Hja, Isten ajándéka! LEONATO. Nekem mennem kell. GALAGONYA. Csak egy szóra, uram. Hát őrjáratunk, kérem alásan, az éjjel két gyanús embert tartóztatott le: azokat ma délelőtt uraságod jelenlétében akarjuk tárgyalni. LEONATO. Csak végezzék magok a tárgyalást és tudósítsanak róla; most a mint láthatják, nagyon sietek. GALAGONYA. Meglesz, uram. LEONATO. Igyanak egy pohár bort, ne menjenek el addig. No, Isten áldja meg. Egy Hirnök jő. HIRNÖK. Uram, a násznép már várja, hogy leányát az esküvőre vezesse. LEONATO. Rögtön ott leszek; készen vagyok. (Leonato és a Hirnök el.) GALAGONYA. Eredj, kolléga, siess Kormos Ferenczhez; mondjad, hogy jöjjön tintástul, pennástul együtt az őrházhoz: most a mi feladatunk ezen embereket tárgyalni. BUNKÓS. �Még pedig okosan, nagy rovatossággal. GALAGONYA. Nem kiméljük az eszünket, ne félj: van itt (homlokára mutat), a mi sarokba szorítsa őket. Csak hozd el ama jeles írót, hadd fogalmazza a kihallgatás edzőkönyvét. Gyertek utánam az őrházhoz. (Elmennek.) NEGYEDIK FELVONÁS. I. SZÍN. Egy templom belseje. Péter herczeg, János, Leonato, Szerzetes, Claudio, Bencze, Héro, Beátrisz és többen. LEONATO. Csak röviden, tisztelendő Ferencz atyám, csupán az esketési szertartást; majd a különös oktatást elmondhatja azután. SZERZETES. Érdemes ifjú, komoly szándékod nőül venni e leányzót, a ki jobbodon áll? CLAUDIO. Nem. LEONATO. Mit? Úgy! Igaz! Nem a jobbján, csak a jobbja mellett. Természetes. SZERZETES. Derék hajadon, komoly szándékod férjhez menni ez ifjúhoz, a kinek jobbján állasz? �HÉRO. Igen. SZERZETES. Ha valaki közületek valamely akadályt tud e házasság ellen, fedezzétek föl igaz lelkiismeretetek szerint. CLAUDIO. Tud-e kegyed valamint, Héro? HÉRO. Nem, uram, semmit. SZERZETES. Tud-e valamit a gróf úr? LEONATO. Bátran felelhetek helyette én: semmit! CLAUDIO. Oh! milyen bátor némely ember! milyen bátran tesz valamit az ember! mit nem tesz az ember, nem tudva, hogy mit tesz! Ej, ha! BENCZE. Te az indulatszókat gyakorlod? A nevetésre ezek azok, ha, ha! he, he! CLAUDIO. Eh, félre most pap! Hallod-é, apa: szorongás nélkül, tiszta szívvel adnád E hajadont, leányodat, nekem? �LEONATO. Olyan tisztán, mint nékem Isten adta. CLAUDIO. S mit adjak érte én, minek becse Megérje ezt a dús ajándokot? HERCZEG. Mást nem, ha csak őt vissza nem adod. CLAUDIO. Fölséged a legszebb hálára oktat. – Ne, apja lányod: fogd, vedd vissza hát: Ne adj barátodnak rohadt narancsot: Csak színe, máza ő a szűz-erénynek! Nézd, mint irúl-pirúl itt szűz gyanánt: Oh mily nemes valóság látszatával, Hogy tudja a rút bűn magát takarni! E felszökő vér, mint szemérmetes jel Nem vall-e szűz erényt? Így látva őt, Nem esküdnétek-é mindannyian E küljelekre, hogy szűz? Hajh, nem az. A kéjes ágy hevét isméri már: Ez a pirúlás vétek, nem szemérem. LEONATO. Ejh, mit akarsz, uram? CLAUDIO. Nem venni őt el! �Nem kötni lelkem’ egy feslett személyhez. LEONATO. Oh, jó uram, ha tán próbára tetted, S leküzdve a leányi ellenállást, Szüzességét legyőzted… CLAUDIO. Jól tudom, Hová czélzasz: ha én ejtém meg őt, Már, nemde, engem mint férjét ölelt, S előleges bűnét ez mentheti? Nem, Leonato: Sohsem kisértém meg ledér szavakkal; Mint bátya húgát, úgy illettem őt, Szűz érzelemmel és szemérmesen. HÉRO. Mutattam-é én is mást ön iránt? CLAUDIO. Hah, tettető! Írásba adtam volna: Előttem égből szállt Diána voltál, Oly tiszta, mint bimbó feslés előtt; De féktelenebb vagy véred hevében, Mint Vénus, és azon korcs állatok, Melyek vadúlt ösztönnel űzekednek. HÉRO. Uram, rosszúl van-é, hogy így csapong? �CLAUDIO. Oh herczeg úr, szóljon. HERCZEG. Mit szóljak én? Lesújtva állok, a ki közben-jártam. Hogy egy rimához fűzzem jó barátom’. LEONATO. Oh, mondva volt ez, vagy csak álmodom? JÁNOS. Mind mondva volt és mind való, uram. BENCZE. Ez furcsa esküvő! HÉRO. Való! Oh Isten! CLAUDIO. Leonato, nézz meg: én állok-é itt? A herczeg-é ez? ez meg öcscse-é? Ez Héro arcza? a szemünk mienk-é? LEONATO. Mind úgy van, az; de hát miért, uram? CLAUDIO. �Hadd adjak egy kérdést lányodnak, és Te, mint nemzője, atyja, birt hatalmad Által parancsold, hogy hiven feleljen. LEONATO. Parancsolom: tedd azt, ha gyermekem vagy. HÉRO. Oh Isten, irgalmazz, ily fakgatás! Mi czélotok van e kínvallatással? CLAUDIO. Szóljon valót, a mint illik nevéhez. HÉRO. Nem Héro-é az? E neven ki ejthet Foltot jogos vád által? CLAUDIO. Ő maga, Héro ejt foltot a Héro erényén. – Miféle férifval beszélt, tizenkét S egy óra közt az éjjel, ablakából? Feleljen erre, hogy ha tiszta szűz! HÉRO. Én nem beszéltem akkor senkivel. HERCZEG. No úgy nem is vagy tiszta. – Leonato �Sajnos, hogy hallanod kell. Esküszöm, Én és öcsém és e megcsalt nemes gróf Láttuk, hallottuk őt az éjszaka Beszélni ablakából egy suhanczczal, Ki, mint egész szabad szájú lator, Elmondta, hogy találkoztak galádul Ezerszer is, titokban. JÁNOS. Fúj, uram, Említni sem lehet, se szólni róla. Nem volt szavokban annyi a szemérem, Hogy elmondhassuk durvaság ne’kül. Sajnálom e kihágást, szép kisasszony. CLAUDIO. Oh Héro, mily Héro lettél vala, ha külső bájaidnak csak felét is Szived s eszed foglalta volna el! Élj boldogúl, legszebb, legszennyesebb! élj, Te tiszta vétek s vétkes tisztaság! Miattad kaput zárok a szerelemnek, Pilláimon fog függni a gyanú, Mely bármi bájt bűnné változtat át, Hogy ne lehessen vonzó, kellemes. LEONATO. Nincs tőrötöknek számomra hegye? BEÁTRISZ. �Húgom, mi lelt? Ah! ime összeomlik. (Héro elájul.) JÁNOS. Gyertek, jerünk. A bűn napfényre jötte Elnyomta lelkét. (Péter Herczeg, János és Claudio el.) BENCZE. Hogy van a kisasszony? BEÁTRISZ. Talán meg is halt. Bácsi, jaj, segítség! – Héro, no, Héro! – Bácsi! – Bencze úr! LEONATO. Oh sors, ne vedd le a súlyos kezed’! Halál a legjobb fátyol szégyenére, Mit csak kivánhatok. BEÁTRISZ. Hogy vagy, kedves Héro? SZERZETES. Kisasszony, csendesen. LEONATO. Még föltekintesz? SZERZETES. �Igen: miért ne tekintene föl? LEONATO. Mért? Nem kiált-e minden földi tárgy Szégyent reá? Hát nem tudja-é tagadni A bűnt, mi vérében van bélyegezve? Héro, ne éledj, föl ne nyisd szemed’! Ha gondolnám, hogy meg nem halsz azonnal, Hogy életed erősebb szégyenednél: Magam szegném, átkom nyomában, élted’. Zug’lódtam-é, hogy nincs, csak egy leányom? Gáncsoltam-é a fukar természetet? Oh, sok vagy egynek is! mért volt csak egy is!? Miért valál olyan kedves szememnek? Mért valál olyan kedves szememnek? Mért nem fogadtam föl kegyes kezekkel Egy koldús fajzatát, kapum küszöbjén? Ha azt gyalázat foltja szégyenítné, Azt mondanám: „Egy íze sem enyim, S szenny idegen ágyékból ered!” De, oh enyim: szerette és dicsért És nagyratartott lányom; annyira Enyim, hogy ahhoz mérve, én magam Nem vagyok magamé! Oh elbukott A tinta-posványban, hogy tengereknek Kevés az árja őt tisztára mosni, Kevés a sója már üdén megóvni Rohadni kezdő húsát. BENCZE. �Csillapúlj, Uram. Csodálat lep meg engem is, De nem tudok reá mit mondani. BEÁTRISZ. Oh, húgom ellen mindez rágalom. BENCZE. Ön egy szobában hált vele az éjjel? BEÁTRISZ. Nem, most az egyszer nem; de tegnapig. Tizenkét hónap óta, minden éjjel. LEONATO. Bizonyság, új bizonyság. Még erősb lett Az, a mit úgy is vas-kapocs szorít. Hazudna-é a herczeg s Claudio, Ki úgy szerette őt, hogy itt midőn Elmondta szennyét, könynyel mosta azt. El, el! hadd haljon itt. SZERZETES. Hallgass meg engem. Azért maradtam eddig hallgatag, S engedtem útat a bal fordulatnak, Mert e leányt figyeltem: láttam, a mint Arczát a pír ezerszer elfutotta, S a szűzi szégyen angyal-tisztasága Ezerszer űzte vissza a pirúlást. �Szemébe tűz gyúlt, melyben összeégjen A tévedés, mit szűzisége ellen A herczegék vallottak. Mondj bolondnak; Ne adj tapasztalásomnak hitelt, Mely könyvek oktatását észlelés Által pecsétli meg; ne higy koromnak, Tisztemnek, állásom szentséginek: Ha e leány nem bűntelen lakol Valami szörnyű tévedés miatt. LEONATO. Barát, az nem lehet Látod, maradt még benne annyi jóság, Hogy nem tetézi vétkes kárhozatját A hitszegés bűnével: nem tagadja. Miért akarnád mentséggel fedezni Azt, a mi itt áll pusztán, meztelen? SZERZETES. Kivel vádolják önt, kedves kisasszony? HÉRO. Azok tudják, a ki vádolnak, én nem. Ha élő férfit jobban ismerek, Mint szűzi tisztaságom engedi, Ne nyerjen egy bűnöm se megbocsátást. Oh, én atyám, ha kiderűl, hogy én Illetlen órán férfival beszéltem, Vagy bárkivel szót válték tagnap éjjel: Taszíts ki, gyűlölj és kínozz halálra. �SZERZETES. Szörnyen csalódhattak a herczegék. BENCZE. Kettőjök a becsület netovábbja, S ha bölcseségök félre van vezetve, A fattyu János herczeg műve az, Kinek rossz lelke csak gazságon áskál. LEONATO. Én nem tudom. Ha, mit mondtak, való, Széttépem a leányt; ha rágalom, Megbánja még a legbüszkébbikök. Idő nem szárította úgy ki vérem’, Se a kor meg nem ette úgy velőmet, Se sors el nem rabolta módomat, Se sok csapás nem űzte szét barátim’: De még megérzik, engem fölriasztva, Hogy lesz erő az inban, terv az észben, Képesség módban és bőség barátban, Számolni még velök. SZERZETES. Megállj, figyelj: Kövesd ez ügyben a tanácsomat Hérót a herczegék holtként hagyák itt: Tartsd egy időig titkon zárva őt; Hirdesd ki, hogy valósággal meg is halt; Mutass külsőleg is nagy gyászolást; �Akaszsz családod ős emlékkövére Gyászverseket; tégy minden készülődést, Mi egy temetkezéshez tartozik. LEONATO. Miért? mi lesz belőle? mit jelent az? SZERZETES. Hát (jól kivíve) a rágalmakat Bánatra változtatja: már ez is jó; De nem ezért tünődöm e cselen; Nagyobb eredményt is szül e vajúdás: Ha Héro, színleg, halva fog feküdni, Egy perczczel aztán, hogy vádoltatott, Siratni, szánni, mentegetni fogja Mind a ki hallja: mert az mindig úgy van: A meglevőt nem szoktuk megbecsűlni, Míg birtokunkban van; de elveszítve, Még toldjuk a becsét; akkor lelünk Oly érdemet, mi benne föl se tünt, Míg a mienk volt. Így jár Claudio: Ha hallja, hogy vádjára Héro meghalt, Az élet eszményképe majd be fog Ábrándja közzé édesen lopózni; A lányka életének minden íze Drágább alakban tűnik föl neki; Szebb, meghatóbban, életteljesebben Fog állni lelki szemei előtt, Mint élve volt, s ő akkor bánkodik (Ha volt valóban szenvedély szivében); �Ohajtja, bár ne vádolta volna, Noha igaznak tartja vádjait. – Tégy így tehát, s hidd el, hogy a jövendő Jobban kikeríti a sikert, Mint azt előre én lefesthetem. S ha minden más eredmény meghiúsul, Már a halálnak puszta föltevése Elfojtja a gyalázat hirdetését. S ha jól nem üt ki, rejtsd el lányodat, A mint sebzett becsületéhez illik, Valami zárkozott szerzetbe, távol Minden szemektől, nyelvtől, rágalomtól. BENCZE. Kövesse, bátyám, e barát tanácsát; S én, bár barátság s belső vonzalom köt, Mint tudja, a herczeghez s Claudióhoz, Olyan titokban, híven közbe-járok, Mint a saját testével lelke járhat. Becsületemre. LEONATO. Jó, tehát vezessen A bánat árja közt e kis fonál. SZERZETES. Tehát megegyez. Rajta hát, reméljen. Erős bajon erős szer, nem segít más. – Kisasszony, haljon meg, hogy újra éljen! E nász csak elhaladt: tűrés, kitartás! �(A Szerzetes, Héro és Leonato el.) BENCZE. Beátrisz kisasszony, ön folytonosan sír? BEÁTRISZ. Igen, és tovább is sírni fogok. BENCZE. Ohajtom, hogy ne. BEÁTRISZ. Nincs igaza: ez nekem jól esik. BENCZE. Igazán, azt hiszem, hogy szép rokonát csak bántalmazták. BEÁTRISZ. Oh, hogy lekötelezne az, a ki igazságot szerezne neki! BENCZE. Volna-e út ilyen barátságot tanúsítani? BEÁTRISZ. Igen egyenes út, de nincs ilyen barát. BENCZE. Megteheti-e férfi? BEÁTRISZ. �Férfi feladata, de nem az öné. BENCZE. A világon semmit sem szeretek úgy, mint önt. Nem különös ez? BEÁTRISZ. Olyan különös, mint a – nem tudom mi. Én is csak úgy mondhatnám, hogy semmit sem szeretek úgy, mint önt; de ne higye: pedig nem hazudok; nem vallok semmit, nem is tagadok semmit. – Nagyon búsulok a húgomért. BENCZE. Istenemre, Beátrisz, te szeretsz engem. BEÁTRISZ. Ne esküdjék, megbánja. BENCZE. Esküszöm, hogy szeretsz; az bánja meg, a ki tagadni meri, hogy szeretlek. parancsolj: megteszek érted akármit. BEÁTRISZ. Ölje meg Claudiót. BENCZE. Hah! nem a széles világért! BEÁTRISZ. Engem öl meg, ha megtagadja. Isten önnel! BENCZE. Maradjon, édes Beátrisz. �BEÁTRISZ. Már elmentem, bár itt vagyok. Önben egy szikra szerelem sincs. Kérem, bocsásson. BENCZE. Beátrisz!… BEÁTRISZ. Igazán, menni akarok. BENCZE. Előbb béküljünk meg. BEÁTRISZ. Könnyebb békülni velem, mint megvívni ellenségemmel. BENCZE. Claudio ellenséged? BEÁTRISZ. Hét nem tetőtől talpig gazember-e az, a ki legyalázta, rágalmazta, megbecstelenítette rokonomat? Oh, bár férfi volnék! Ime: kezén hordozza őt, míg a kézfogóig jutnak, s akkor nyilvános váddal, meztelen rágalommal, kérlelhetlen gazsággal… Oh Istenem, bár férfi volnék! a piacz közepén enném meg a szivét. BENCZE. Hallgasson meg, Beátrisz… BEÁTRISZ. Férfival beszélt az ablakából: szép beszéd. BENCZE. De, Beátrisz!… �BEÁTRISZ. Édes Hérom! – Megsértik, gyalázzák, megsemmisítik. BENCZE. Beát… BEÁTRISZ. Herczegek és grófok! Bizonyosan, herczegi tanúskodás, szépséges gróf, mézes-mázos udvarló, bizonyosan. Oh, bár férfi lehetnék érette! vagy volna egy barátom, a ki férfi lenne érettem! De a férfiasság udvarlásra olvadt, a bátorság bókokra, s a férfiak csupa nyelvvé változtak, csak szépet tesznek: mai nap az már vitéz, mint Herkules, a ki nagyokat mond s megesküszik rá. Engem férfivá nem tehet a vágy: azért, mint nőt, megöl a bú. BENCZE. Maradj, kedves Beátrisz. Ime a kezem, esküszöm reá, hogy szeretlek. BEÁTRISZ. Használja hát szerelmemért másképen, mint hogy esküszik reá. BENCZE. Lelkéből gondolja ön, hogy gróf Claudio rágalmazta Hérót? BEÁTRISZ. Igen, olyan bizonyosan, mint a hogy lelkem vagy gondolatom van. BENCZE. Elég! Mindenre kész vagyok: kihívom őt. Engedje kezét megcsókolnom, s aztán indulok. E kézre esküszöm, Claudio drágán fog nekem számot adni. A mint hall felőlem, úgy vélekedjék rólam. Menjen, vigasztalja húgát; nekem azt kell beszélnem, hogy Héro meghalt. Isten önnel. (El.) II. SZÍN. �Börtön. Galagonya, Bunkós, Egy Jegyző, hivatalos ruhákban, Két Őr, Konrád és Borachio. GALAGONYA. Megjelent az egész vizsgáló bizomány? BUNKÓS. Oh, széket és párnát a jegyző úrnak. JEGYZŐ. Hol vannak a vádlottak? GALAGONYA. Én vagyok, kérem alásan, és a társam. BUNKÓS. Igenis, mi fogjuk vádolni az előterjesztést. JEGYZŐ. De hol vannak a kihallgatandó bűnösök? Hozzátok ide, a biztos úr elé. GALAGONYA. Igen hát, hozzátok őket elém. – Mi a kend neve, barátom? BORACHIO. Borachio. GALAGONYA. �Kérem, írja: Borachio. Hát a kendé, ficzkó? KONRÁD. Én nemes ember vagyok, uram, a nevem Konrád. GALAGONYA. Írja: nemes ember Konrád úr. – Uraim, bíznak-e kendtek az Istenben! KONRÁD, BORACHIO. Igen, uram, reméljük. GALAGONYA. Írja: remélik, hogy bíznak az istenben; de az Istent elől írja: mert Isten őrizz’, hogy az Isten előbb ne menjen az ilyen gazembereknél! – uraim, már be van bizonyítva, hogy kendtek nem sokkal jobbak a csaló csavargóknál; azonban erről bővebb vád is forog fenn. Mivel védhetik kendtek magokat? KONRÁD. Röviden azt mondjuk, uram, hogy nem vagyunk azok. GALAGONYA. Bámulatos furfangos ficzkó, higyjék el; de majd kiforgatom én. – Jöjjön kend ide, bűnös, hadd beszéljek a fejével: hát azt akarom mondani, hogy kendteket csaló csavargóknak vádolják. BORACHIO. Mondom, uram, nem vagyunk azok. GALAGONYA. Jól van, álljon félre. – Ezek, Isten bizony, egy nótát fúnak. Felírta-e, hogy ők nem azok? JEGYZŐ. �Biztos uram, nem helyes úton kezdi a vizsgálatot; hivassa elő az őröket: azok a vádlók. GALAGONYA. Igazság, ez a leghamarabb út. – Jöjjenek elő az őrök. Uraim, felszólítlak a herczeg nevében, vádoljátok ezen embereket. 1. ŐR. Ez az ember, uram, azt mondta, hogy János gróf, a herczeg testvéröcscse, gazember volna. GALAGONYA. Irja: János herczeg gazember. No ez világos esküszegés, a herczeg testvérét gazembernek mondani. BORACHIO. Biztos úr… GALAGONYA. Hallgass, ficzkó; csendesen; a nézésedet sem szeretem. JEGYZŐ. Mit hallottak még mást tőle? 2. ŐR. Hát hogy János herczegtől ezer aranyat kapott volna, mert Héro kisasszonyt hamisan gyanusította. GALAGONYA. Olyan világos zendülés, a milyet csak valaha elkövethettek. BUNKÓS. Igenis, Mária-ugyse, az ez. �JEGYZŐ. Még egyebet mondtak-e, barátom? 1. ŐR. Meg, hogy Claudio grófnak szándéka volna, azt mondják, meggyalázni Héro kisasszonyt az egész gyülekezet előtt, és nem esküdni meg vele. GALAGONYA. Oh, gazember, ezért örökkévaló megváltásra fogsz kárhozni. JEGYZŐ. Hét még egyéb? 2. ŐR. Ez az egész. JEGYZŐ. És ez több, uraim, mint a mennyit el tudnának tagadni. János herczeg ma reggel titkosan elszökött, Héro épen ily módon vádoltatott, épen ily módon visszautasíttatott, és e miatt bánatában hirtelen meghalt. Biztos uram, köttesse meg ezeket az embereket, s vitesse Leonato úr házához; én előre megyek, megmutatom neki vallomásukat. (El.) GALAGONYA. Meg kell őket kötelezni. BUNKÓS. No csak a kezökre! KONRÁD. Odább ostoba! GALAGONYA. �Teremtő Isten! hol van a jegyző? Hadd írja mindjárt, hogy a herczeg tisztviselője ostoba. Gyertek, kössétek meg! – Te semmirekellő fattyú! KONRÁD. El innen, kend szamár, kend szamár. GALAGONYA. Nem méltatod állásomat? nem méltatod koromat? Oh bár itt volna a jegyző, hadd írná: én szamár! De, uraim, ráemlékezzetek, hogy én szamár vagyok; bár nincs leírva, de el ne felejtsétek, hogy én szamár vagyok. – No, te gazember, te telve vagy kegyelettel, amint majd reád fog bizonyulni jó tanúk által. Én okos ember vagyok; a mi több, tiszt vagyok; a mi több, a magam gazdája; a mi több, olyan takaros darab hús, mint Messinában akárki; és olyan ember, a ki érti a törvényt, hallod-e; és gazdag legény is, hallod-e; olyan legény, a kinek jut is, marad is; a kinek két öltöző ruhája van, és mindene rendesen, takarosan. Vigyétek el. Oh bár írásban volna, hogy én szamár vagyok. (El.) ÖTÖDIK FELVONÁS. I. SZÍN. Leonato háza előtt. Leonato és Antonio. ANTONIO. Ha így haladsz, megölöd tenmagad’: Nem okosság a bút ekként uszítni. Magadra. LEONATO. Kérlek hagyd el a tanácsod’, Mely oly haszontalan hull a fülembe, �Mintha a szitába a víz. Ne tanácsolj; S vigaszt se halljon mástól a fülem, Mint a kinek búja fölér enyimmel: Hozz egy atyát, ki lányát így szerette, Kinek gyönyöre ekként romba dőlt, S kérd azt, hogy intsen türelemre; mérd meg Bújával az enyimnek széle-hosszát, Hogy ízrül-ízre összeilljenek, Ez erre és ilyen bánat ilyenre, Minden vonalban, ágban és alakban: Ha ez mosolyg és simítja szakálát, És „félre gond!” hmget, ha sírni kéne, Ha búját bölcs szavakkal tatarozza, Ha a bajt, gyertya-pusztítók között, Leinni kész: jól van, hozd őt ide, S én megtanulom tőle a türelmet. De ilyen ember nincs: mindenki tud Tanácsot adni, vígasztalni a bút, Mit ő nem ér’z; de ha belé harap, Már szenvedélylyé válik a tanács, Mely a dühnek gyógyszert kinált előbb, A bőszülést selyem-szálon akarta Lekötni és a kínt lehelletével, Az izgalmat szóval bűvölni le. Nem, nem! mindenki csak tűrést tanácsol Annak, kit a búbánat súlya görnyeszt; De senkiben nincs ám erény s kitartás Ily jámborul szenvedni, hogyha rá Van mérve az. Ne adj nekem tanácsot: Intésedet túlsírja bánatom. �ANTONIO. Hát nem különb a gyermeknél az ember? LEONATO. Kérlek, hagyj engem: én hús, vér vagyok; De hisz nem is volt még oly bölcs soha, Ki a fogfájás tűrni tudta volna, Habár az istenek stiljával írt, És sorsnak, szenvedésnek fittyeket hányt. ANTONIO. Ne végy magadra minden bánatot: Éreztesd azzal inkább, a ki megsért. LEONATO. Igazad van: igen, meg is teszem. Héro nem vétkezett, azt súgja lelkem: Hadd hallja ezt a herczeg s Claudio, S mindaz, ki őt így megbecsteleníté. Péter Herczeg és Claudio jönnek. ANTONIO. Itt jő a herczeg s Claudio sietve. HERCZEG. Jó napot, jó napot. CLAUDIO. Jó napot mindekettőjöknek. �LEONATO. Hallják, uram… HERCZEG. Sietünk, Leonato! LEONATO. Igen, sietnek! Jó, csak menjenek… Sietnek úgy-e most? Jól van. No mindegy. HERCZEG. Ej, jó öreg, ne veszekedj’ velünk. ANTONIO. Ha igazán veszekedni akarna, Valamelyönk porba heverne itt. CLAUDIO. Ki sérti őt? LEONATO. Te sértesz, színlelő. Ejh, sohse tedd kardodra a kezed’: Nem félek én tőled. CLAUDIO. Legyen kezem Elátkozott, ha ily aggot ijeszt meg. Önkénytelen érintém kardomat. �LEONATO. Ember, ne űzz tréfát velem, ne csúfolj: Én nem vagyok se hülye, sem bolond, Hogy aggság örvén dicsekedjem azzal, Mit tettem ifjan, vagy miket tehetnék, Ha vén nem volnék. Tudd meg, Claudio, Te megsértéd ártatlan leányom’ s engem, És kényszerítsz, hogy mindent félretéve, Ősz hajjal és sok év sebhelyivel, Kihívjalak, mint férfi férfiút. Rágalmazád ártatlan gyermekem’: Szivén rágalmad át meg át hatott, Ott nyugszik őseim közt eltemetve, Hová botrány még soha nem került, az Övén kívűl, mint gazságod koholt. CLAUDIO. Gazságom? LEONATO. Az, gazságod, mondom, az. HERCZEG. Igaztalant beszélsz, öreg. LEONATO. Uram, Testén bebizonyítom: merje hát! Hisz vívni tud, folyvást gyakorolja azt, �És élte májusán van, víg erőben. CLAUDIO. El! Önnel én semmit sem kezdhetek. LEONATO. Leráznál úgy-e? Gyermekem’ megölted: Ha engem ölsz meg, fattyú, férfit ölsz. ANTONIO. Öljön meg mindkettőnket, férfiakat! De arra nem jut; öljön engem elsőbb: Győzz meg s taposs el… Hadd feleljen, engedj! Jer, fattyú, jer velem! fattyú, kövess! Kivirgácsollak vívó-iskoláddal, Ki én! úgy légyen a nevem nemes. LEONATO. Öcsém… ANTONIO. Ne bánts. Az Isten látja, mint Szerettem húgomat: most halva fekszik: Halálra rágalmazták e gazok, kik Úgy mernek szembe-nézni férfival, Mint én merek kígyót megfogni nyelvén Majmok, bitangok, gyávák, poltronok! LEONATO. Öcsém, Antonio… �ANTONIO. Ne bánts! Tudom jól, Kik és mit érnek ők mind egy szemerig. Hóbortos, orczátlan divat-babák, Hazug, maró, csúfos rágalmazók, Bohóczok, a kik külsőleg ijesztők, Elmondanak vagy féltuczat merész szót: Hogy tönkre tennék ellenségöket, Azaz, ha mernék. Ennyi az egész. LEONATO. Öcsém, Antonio… ANTONIO. Ejh, hagyd el, és ne Avatkozz’ ebbe: hagyd csak reám. HERCZEG. Urak, mi nem szítjuk már a türelmet. Szivem zokog leányának halálán; De semmi vád, becsületemre, nem volt, Csak a való, bebizonyúlt igazság. LEONATO. Uram, uram! HERCZEG. Nem hallgatom. �LEONATO. Nem-é? Jer hát, öcsém. Majd meghallgatna még! ANTONIO. Meg ám, vagy egyikünk lakolni fog. (Leonato és Antonio el.) Bencze jön. HERCZEG. Nézd, nézd, itt jön, a kit keresni indultunk. CLAUDIO. No, pajtás, mi újság? BENCZE. Jó napot, uram. HERCZEG. Hozott Isten, barátom. Épen arra jöttél, hogy majdnem szétválaszsz egy verekedést. CLAUDIO. Majd leharapta az orrunkat két fogatlan vén ember. HERCZEG. Leonato és öcscse. Mit gondolsz? Ha megverekedtünk volna, úgy-e mégis nagyon fiatalok lettünk volna hozzájok? BENCZE. Álnok ügyben nincs meg a valódi bátorság. Én épen önöket keresem. �CLAUDIO. Mi is régen őgyelgünk, téged keresve: mert nagyon elővett bennünket a komorság, azt szeretnők elűzni. Hegyezd egy kissé az eszed’. BENCZE. Itt van a hüvelyembe: kihúzzam? HERCZEG. Hát te az eszedet oldaladon hordod? CLAUDIO. Azt ugyan még senki sem tette, bár akadtak elegen, ki az eszöket félrecsapták. HERCZEG. Becsületemre, ez a fiú halvány. Beteg vagy-é, vagy mérges? CLAUDIO. Ej, bátorság, pajtás! Kutyát ölje meg a bánat; te benned van elég erő, hogy megöld a bánatot. BENCZE. Uram, én elibe vágok élczeinek, ha ellenem intézi. Kérem, válasszon más tárgyat. CLAUDIO. Akkor szerezz más dárdát, mert utolsó dárdád összetört. HERCZEG. A napfényre mondom, jobban-jobban elváltozik. Azt hiszem, csakugyan mérges. CLAUDIO. Ha az, hiszen tudja, hogy kell nekigyűrkőzni. �BENCZE. Mondhatok-e már egy szót? CLAUDIO. Isten mentesen, még párbajra hí! BENCZE. Ön gazember. Nem tréfálok. Jóvá teszem, a mint akarja ön, a mivel akarja ön, a mikor akarja ön. Ön megölt egy kedves hölgyet, és annak halála súlyosan fog önre visszahullni. Tudassa szándékát. CLAUDIO. Jó, tehát találkozunk, legalább egy jót vigadok. HERCZEG. Mi az? lakoma, lakoma? CLAUDIO. Az bizony: meg is köszönöm neki: meghívott borjúfejre és kappanra, a mit ha derekasan föl nem darabolok, mondják a késemet vaskónak. Hát kanpulyka lesz-e? BENCZE. Uram, nagyon könnyen ugrál az esze. HERCZEG. Tudod-e, hogy a te eszedet Beátrisz tegnap hogy dicsérte? Arról beszéltem, hogy ügyes az eszed. „Az ám,” azt mondja, „ügyes kis ész.” „Nem, nem” mondom én, „nagy ész az.” „Igen,” azt mondja, „nagy otromba ész.” „Dehogy,” mondom én, „igen jó ész.” „Igazán,” mondja ő, „nem bánt senkit.” „Nem úgy,” mondom megint, „valódi okos és bölcs.” „Okos, mint a kos, bölcs, mint a lőcs,” mondja ő. „Több nyelven beszél,” mondom én „Igen,” mondja ő, „nekem hétfőn este megesküdött valamire, a mit kedden reggel már meghazudtolt: tehát két különböző nyelven beszélt.” Így forgatta a személyes erényeidet, majd egy óra hosszat; de végre is egy sohajjal fejezte be, hogy te vagy a legderekabb ember az országban. �CLAUDIO. Aztán szivéből kisírta magát, s azt mondta, hogy bánja is ő. HERCZEG. Bezzeg úgy az; de mindamellett téged, ha halálig nem gyűlölne, halálosan szeretne. Ez öreg úr leánya nekünk mindent elbeszélt. CLAUDIO. Mindent, mindent, s még többet is. „Az Úristen meglátta őt, midőn elbújt vala a kertben.” HERCZEG. Mikor tűzzük már a bika szarvát az érzelgős Bencze homlokára? CLAUDIO. Alá pedig egy feliratot: „Itt lakik a megházasodott Bencze.” BENCZE. Ficzkó, szándékomat tudod. Most itt hagylak fecsegő kedvedben. Úgy forgatod az élczeket, mint szájhős a kardját, a mely, hála Isten, senkinek sem árt. – Fölséges uram, köszönöm sok kegyét; el kell válnom kiséretéből. Öcscse, a fattyúvér, megszökött Messinából; önök közösen megöltek egy kedves, ártatlan leányt. A mi pedig ezt a szakálatlan úrfit illeti vele majd találkozunk; addig élje világát. (Bencze el.) HERCZEG. Komolyan beszél. CLAUDIO. A legkomolyabban; és megesküszöm reá, hogy Beátrisz iránti szerelemből. HERCZEG. Téged párbajra hítt? �CLAUDIO. A leghatározottabban. HERCZEG. Furcsa biz az ember, mikor az ingét, nadrágát magával viszi, de az eszét elhagyja. CLAUDIO. Akkor is óriás a majomhoz képest; de a majom meg tudós az ilyenhez mérve. HERCZEG. De türtőztesd magad’; hagyja csak most; zsugorodjál össze, szivem, s légy komoly. Nem azt mondta-e Bencze, hogy az öcsém megszökött? Galagonya, Bunkós, a Két Őr jönnek, Konráddal és Borachióval. GALAGONYA. Jöjjenek, csak jöjjenek: ha az igazság most meg nem tudja szelidíteni az urakat, no hiszen ne is tartsa többet azt a fontot a kezében. Akármilyen elátkozott képmutogatók az urak, majd szemmel tartjuk most. HERCZEG. Hogyan, mi ez? az öcsének két embere megkötözve? Az egyik Borachio. CLAUDIO. Hallgassa meg a vétköket, fölséged. HERCZEG. Biztosok, mi vétket követtek el ezek az urak? GALAGONYA. �Hát, fölséges uram, hamis vallomást tettek; azon följül nem igazat mondtak; másodszor rágalmazók is; hatodszor és utoljára gyanúba kevertek egy kisasszony; harmadszor valótlan igazságokat koholtak; és végtére mind a ketten hazug gazemberek. HERCZEG. Először, azt kérdem, mit csináltak? harmadszor azt kérdem mit a vétkök? hatodszor és utoljára, mit követtek el? és végtére, mi vádat akarsz emelni ellenök? CLAUDIO. Helyes kérdések, fölség, épen az ő beosztása szerint. Becsületemre mondom, pompásan felczifrázta ezt a gondolatot. HERCZEG. Kit bántottak az urak, hogy így megkötözve hozatnak a vallatásra? Ez a tudós biztos úr olyan körülményes, hogy nem lehet megérteni. Mi a vétkök? BORACHIO. Fölséges herczeg, ne hurczoltasson tovább a kihallgatás végett: hallgasson meg, s aztán hadd öljön meg ez a gróf úr. Én megcsaltam a fölségetek saját szemeit. A mit fölséged bölcsessége nem bírt fölfedezni, kiderítették ezek a gügye szájtátók, a kik az éjjel kihallgattak, midőn megvallottam e társamnak, hogyan ösztönzött János gróf, a fölséged öcscse, hogy gyanúba keverjen Héro kisasszonyt; hogyan hoztuk fölségteket a kertbe; hogy láttak ott engem szerelmeskedni Margittal, Héro ruhájában; s hogy becsteleníté meg Hérót a gróf, mikor esküdni akartak. Gazságomat ezek jegyzőkönyvbe vették, s én inkább halálommal pecsételem azt, mintsem valaha ismételjem. A kisasszony meghalt az én és uram hamis vádunk következtében. Röviden tehát, nem kivánok egyebet, mint gazságom büntetését. HERCZEG. Nem vas gyanánt fut-e e szó véreden át? CLAUDIO. Oh, mérget ittam, a míg elbeszélte. HERCZEG. S öcsém lovalt föl erre tégedet? �BORACHIO. Ő; és az ármányt dúsan megfizette. HERCZEG. Rút hitszegésből áll egész valója. És megszökött e csúf gazság után! CLAUDIO. Édes Héróm! most képed úgy tünik föl, A mint először megszerettelek. GALAGONYA. Gyerünk; hozzátok a vádlottakat; azóta a jegyző úr Leonato urat is kellőleg utalványozta a dologról. Aztán, barátaim, el ne felejtsétek tekintetbe venni, ha eljön az ideje és helye, hogy én szamár vagyok. BUNKÓS. Épen itt jön Leonato uraság és a jegyző úr. Leonato, Antonio és a Jegyző jönnek. LEONATO. Hol a gazember? hadd nézzek szemébe! Hogy máskoron, ha ilyenforma embert Találok, elkerüljem. Melyik az? BORACHIO. Ha sértőjét keresi, nézzen én rám. LEONATO. Te vagy, bitang, ki egy lehelleteddel �Megölted gyermekem’? BORACHIO. Én, egyedűl én. LEONATO. Nem úgy; hazudsz, gazember: ime itt áll Ez a derék két úr, a harmadik Már megszökött, kik szintén részesek. Herczeg, köszönöm a lyányom halálát: Igtassa ezt nagy tettei sorába, Fejdelmi tett volt, csak gondolja meg jól. CLAUDIO. Hogy kérjem a türelmed’? nem tudom; De szólanom kell. Válaszsz bosszuállást; Mérj büntetést, minőt ki tudsz találni Bűnömre: óh hiszen nem vétkezém, Csak tévedésből. HERCZEG. Én sem, esküszöm; S mégis, hogy e jó agg engesztelődjék, Alávetem magam’ bármily tehernek, Mit ő reám mér. LEONATO. Nem kérhetem, hogy lyányomat föléleszd; Az lehetetlen; oh, csak arra kérlek, Győzzétek a város népét meg arról, �Hogy ő ártatlanúl halt; s ha szerelmed, Bús ihletéssel, még alkotni tud, Tégy sírkövére egy gyászverset és Zengd el fölötte azt, zengd el ma éjjel. És holnap aztán jöjj hozzám megint, S ha már vőm nem lehetsz, légy hát öcsém. Testvéröcsémnek is van egy leánya, Egészen mása elhalt gyermekemnek, Egyetlen örökös kettőnk után: Nyújtsd néki nénjének szánt jobbodat: Így meg fog halni bosszúm. CLAUDIO. Oh nemes sziv, Kegyességed könnyet fakaszt szemembe! Ajánlatod’ tárt karral fogadom: Ezentúl a tied szegény Claudio. LEONATO. Holnap tehát várok reád; ma éjre Búcsút veszek. Ezt a galád gazembert majd szembe állítom Margittal, a kit, Úgy gondolom, kibérelt János úr E cselszövésre. BORACHIO. Nem, lelkemre, nem: Nem tudta, mit tesz, a mikor velem Beszélgetett; mindenben hű, erényes Volt mindig ő, mióta ismerem. �GALAGONYA. Azon feljűl azonban, fölséges uram, a mi még nincs tisztába hozva, ez a vádlott, ez a bűnös itt ni, engem szamárnak mondott: könyörgöm alásan, emlékezzék meg erről a büntetésében. Aztán meg az őrök hallották őket még bizonyos Alakosról is beszélni: azt mondják róla, hogy ez az ember mindig égetteti a haját és annálfogva irtóztató lángoló fejjel ijesztgeti a népet, a mellett meg pénzt kér kölcsön az Isten nevében, de soha sem fizet, s ez által úgy elrontotta az Isten hitelét, hogy arra mai napság már senki sem akar pénzt adni. Kérem alásan, vallassák ki őket erre nézvést is. LEONATO. Köszönöm az őrködést, és becsületes fáradságodat. GALAGONYA. Uraságod olyan szépen beszél, mint egy háládatos és illendőség-tudó ifjú; dicsértessék az úr neve érette. LEONATO. Nesze a fáradságodért. (Pénzt ad neki.)) GALAGONYA. Kegyesen köszönöm az eklézsia nevében. LEONATO. Csak eredj: átveszem tőled a foglyokat, és még egyszer köszönöm. GALAGONYA. Itt hagyom tehát ezt a csavargó bűnöst uraságodnak; de könyörgöm alásan, mások szigorú példája végett tessék megjavítani magát. Isten tartsa meg uraságodat; minden jót kivánok: adja vissza az úr teljes egészségét. Alázatosan engedelem adatván az eltávozásra, reménylem, hogy mielőbbi szives viszonttalálkozásunkat az Isten kegyesen meggátolandja. Jöjjenek, szomszéd. (Galagonya, Bunkós és az Őrök el.) �LEONATO. Holnap reggelig, uraim, Isten áldja önöket. ANTONIO. Áldja Isten, urak: holnapra elvárjuk. HERCZEG. Nem maradunk el. CLAUDIO. Az éjjel Hérót fogom siratni. (Péter Herczeg és Claudio el.) LEONATO. Kisérd be e ficzkókat: majd kikérdjük Margitot, honnan ismerős velök. II. SZÍN. Leonato kertje. Bencze és Margit, szemközt találkozva, jönnek. BENCZE. Kérlek, édes Margit, játszál a kezemre egy kissé, hogy beszélhessek Beátriszszal. MARGIT. Ír-e aztán egy szonettet a szépségem dicséretére? BENCZE. Írok, édes Margit, olyan ragyogó stilusban, hogy élő ember túl nem tesz rajta; mert, igaz lelkemre, megérdemled. �MARGIT. Hogy túltegyenek rajtam? Köszönöm. BENCZE. Eszed olyan gyors, mint az agár szája; mindent elkap. MARGIT. Az öné pedig úgy eltompult, mint a vívómester tőre, mely bök, de nem árt. BENCZE. Egészen férfias élcz, Margit: nőt ez nem sérthetne. De én leteszem a fegyvert. Kérlek, hozd el Beátriszt. MARGIT. Jól van, elhivom; de nem hozom, hiszen van lába. BENCZE. Úgy el is jön. (Margit el.) (Bencze dúdolva.) Még Ámor is, A kis hamis, Ha rám tekint, Megszán az is, tudniilik az éneklésemért; de a szerelemben: Leander a híres úszó, Troilus a kerítők első fölfedezője, és egy egész könyvteli sorozata ezeknek a hajdani szőnyegtaposóknak, kiknek neve még ma is lágyan suhan a sima versek egyenes ösvényén, bizony valamennyiöket sem forgatta úgy összevissza a szerelem, mint szegény fejemet. Hanem versben nem tudom bizonyítani; megpróbáltam, de nem találok más rímet, mint „hölgy,” „tölgy:” ez igen illetlen; „élcz,” „fércz:” ez goromba; „bölcs,” „lőcs:” ez meg túlságosan igaz: mindeniket kényes dolog használni. Nem, én nem születtem verselő csillagzat alatt, és ünnepélyes kifejezésekkel sem tudok beszélni. Beátrisz jő. �Édes Beátrisz, tehát eljöve, mikor kérettem? BEÁTRISZ. El, uram; és eltávozom, mikor parancsolja. BENCZE. Óh maradjon csak akkorig. BEÁTRISZ. „Akkor” ki van mondva: most hát Isten áldja meg! De mégis addig nem megyek, míg meg nem tudom, a miért jöttem: mi történt ön és Claudio között? BENCZE. Csak léha szavak: adjon egy csókot reájok. BEÁTRISZ. Léha szó, léha szellő; s léha szellő hamar megárt; tehát csókolatlanul távozom. BENCZE. Kiriasztja a szót valódi értelméből, oly hatalmas az élcze. De, nyiltan szólva: Claudio megkapta a kihívásomat, s vagy rövid időn többet hallok tőle, vagy gyávának nyilatkoztatom. Most, kérem, mondja meg, melyik rossz tulajdonomért szeretett először belém. BEÁTRISZ. Valamennyiért: mert oly egyetértéssel alkotják azok a rosszaság országát, hogy nem engednek semmi jó tulajdont magok közé vegyűlni. És ön melyik rossz tulajdonomért szenvedte először szerelmét irántam? BENCZE. Szenvedtem a szerelmet! jó kifejezés. Szenvedem a szerelmet, igazán, mert akaratom ellen szeretlek. BEÁTRISZ. �Szive daczára, gondolom. Oh szegény szív! Ha ön daczol vele miattam, én is daczolok vele ön miatt: mert soha sem tudnám szeretni azt, a mit barátom gyűlöl. BENCZE. Nagyon okosak vagyunk mi, ön és én, hogy békében összekeljünk. BEÁTRISZ. E vallomásból nem látszik: okos ember húsz közt sincs egy, a ki önmagát dicsérje. BENCZE. Réges régi mondás már az, Beátrisz, mely még a jó szomszédok idejében támadt. Mai napság, ha az ember föl nem állítja a síremlékét, míg meg nem hal, bizony nem él tovább az emlékezetben, csak míg a harang szól és az özvegy sír. BEÁTRISZ. És meddig tart ez, mit gondol? BENCZE. Kérdés: talán egy óráig jajgat s egy negyedig kesereg; azért tehát legjobb kisegítő az okos embernek (ha Féreg úr, a lelkiismerete, nem akadályozza), hogy maga legyen a saját erényének trombitája, mint én vagyok a magamé. Ennyit az öndicséretről, a mi, merem állítani, dicséretreméltó. – Mondja, kérem, hogy van a húga? BEÁTRISZ. Igen rosszúl. BENCZE. Hát ön? BEÁTRISZ. Én is igen rosszúl. BENCZE. �Bízzék Istenben, szeressen engem, és jobbuljon meg. Most én is búcsút veszek, mert itt jön valaki, nagyon sietve. Ursula jő. URSULA. Kisasszony, jöjjön, kérem, a bátyjához. Óriás zavar van otthon: kiderült, hogy Héro kisasszonyt hamisan vádolták, a herczeget és Claudiót roppantul megcsalták; János úr a szerzője mindennek, a ki azóta megszökött. Jöjjön, kérem, azonnal. BEÁTRISZ. Jön-e uram ezeket a jó újságokat megtudni? BENCZE. Szivedben akarok élni, öledben halni és szemeidben temetkezni; s azonkivül most is, ime, megyek veled a bátyádhoz. (Elmennek.) III. SZÍN. Egy templom belseje. Péter Herczeg, Claudio és Kisérők jönnek, zenével és fáklyákkal. CLAUDIO. Ez a Leonato síremléke? KISÉRŐK. Ez, uram. CLAUDIO. (egy tekercsről olvassa): Sírba vitte álnok ármány Hérót, a kit itt fed a hant; �De a szenvedések árán Örök hírt nyert, halhatatlant: A gyalázatban halt élet A halálban dicsre éled. (Fölszegzi a verset a síremlékre.) Függj itt, kis dal, sírkövén, S dicsérd, ha nem élek én. Zenét elő most, ünnepélyes gyászdalt! Ének. Éj-királynő, oh bocsánat, Hogy megöltük szűzedet: Ime gyászdal, tiszta bánat, Sírja körűl gyászmenet. Éjfél, halld sóhajunk’ Gyászosan, gyászosan! Sírok, rendűljetek, Holtak, ébredjetek, Gyászosan, gyászosan! CLAUDIO. És most jó éjt, drága hamvak! Évenkint meglátogatlak. HERCZEG. Oltsátok el fáklyátokat. Derűl. A farkas a zsákmányt végezte. Távol Kelet sötétjén szürke fény terűl, S a tiszta nap jő Phoebus kocsijával. Mind elmehettek: Isten véletek. �CLAUDIO. Isten megáldja! kiki maga útján. HERCZEG. Gyerünk mi is, más ösvényen, előre; Aztán Leonatóhoz, új esküvőre. CLAUDIO. És hymen adjon jobb sorsot reánk, Mint a miért most gyászszal áldozánk. (Elmennek.) IV. SZÍN. Szoba Leonato házában. Leonato, Antonio, Bencze, Margit, Beátrisz, Ursula, a Szerzetes és Héro jönnek. SZERZETES. Nem mondtam-é, hogy ártatlan leányod? LEONATO. A herczeg s Claudio is az, kik őt, A mint tudod, tévedve vádolák; Csak Margit egy kissé hibás, habár Szándéka ellen tette ő is, a mint A vallatásokból tisztán kitűnt. ANTONIO. No, csakhogy ily szépen ütött ki minden. �BENCZE. Örülök én is, mert hittel fogadtam, Hogy érte Claudiót megszámoltatom. LEONATO. Most, lányom, és ti nők mindannyian, Vonúljatok be egy oldal-szobába, S ha hívatunk, álarczba jöjjetek ki. (A nők elmennek.) A herczeg s Claudio mostanra hozzám Igérkezének. Légy készen, öcsém: Te most az én leányom apja lészsz. S nőül adod gróf Claudiónak őt. ANTONIO. Ne félj, szilárd orczával végrehajtom. BENCZE. Jó szerzetes, talán fölkérem én is Szolgálatát. SZERZETES. Hogyan, miben, uram? BENCZE. Kössön vagy oldjon engem: így vagy úgy. Uram, Leonato, nincs mit tagadnom, A húga jó szemmel tekint reám. �LEONATO. Lányom vezette úgy szemét, tudom. BENCZE. Én is szerelmes szemmel nézem őt. LEONATO. E nézet én tőlem meg Claudiótól S a herczegtől ered. S mi szándoka? BENCZE. Az ön felelete, uram, talányos; De hogy mi szándokom? Hát szándokom Megnyerni önnek a jó szándokát, S illendő házasságra lépni még ma. Ehhez kérem, jó szerzetes, segélyét. LEONATO. Szivem szerelmedé. SZERZETES. Segélyem is. Im itt jön a herczeg és Claudio. Péter Herczeg és Claudio Kisérettel jönnek. HERCZEG. Jó reggelt e nemes gyülekezetnek. LEONATO. Jó reggelt, herczeg úr; jó reggelt, Claudio: �Már vártunk önt. Tehát el van határ’zva, Öcsém leányát nőül venni ma? CLAUDIO. Szavamnak állok, ha szerecsen is. LEONATO. No, hívd elő, öcsém: itt a pap is. (Antonio el.) HERCZEG. Jó reggelt, Bencze. Ej, no hát, mi baj, Hogy arczod ily rettentő februári? Egész fagyos, borús és felleges. CLAUDIO. Tán a bikán jár most is az esze. Ne félj, szarvadra arany gombot teszünk. S egész Európa majd bámulni fog, Mint egykor Európa bámulta Zevszt, Ki szerelemből ölte bika-mezt. BENCZE. Zevsz, mint bika, jól bömbölt a hamis: Ily bika tört apád aklába is, És lopva ilyen borjút nemze ott, Mint te, mert bőgését te is tudod. Antonio visszajő a leálarczozott nőkkel. CLAUDIO. �(Benczéhez). Majd számolunk! Most másra számolok. (Antonióhoz.) Melyik kisasszonyhoz kell szólanom? ANTONIO. Im itt van: én örökre átadom. CLAUDIO. No úgy enyim. Szép hölgy, hagyd látnom arczod’. LEONATO. Azt nem szabad, míg meg nem esküszöl, Lelkész előtt, hogy őt nőül veszed. CLAUDIO. Add hát kezed’, s e szent lelkész előtt Férjed vagyok s leszek, ha elfogadsz. HÉRO. (leveszi álarczát). Midőn még éltem, másik nőd valék; Midőn szerettél, másik férjem voltál. CLAUDIO. Egy másik Héro? HÉRO. Az, bizonynyal az. Egy Hérót a szégyen megölt, én élek, S amily igaz, hogy élek, szűz vagyok. �HERCZEG. Az első Héro! Héro, a ki meghalt. HÉRO. Meghalt, uram, de csak míg szennye élt. SZERZETES. Mind e csodálkozást megfejtem én; Ha a szent szertartást bevégezők, Majd elbeszélem szép Héro halálát. Addig barátkozzatok e csodával. És most jerünk a kápolnába által. BENCZE. Lassan, megállj, papom. – Hol van Beátrisz? BEÁTRISZ. E névre én értek. (Leveszi álarczát.) Mit akar ön? BENCZE. Szeretsz-e? BEÁTRISZ. No, nem túl a józan észen. BENCZE. Ejh, akkor a bátyád, a herczeg s Claudio Csalódtak: azt esküdték, hogy szeretsz. �BEÁTRISZ. Szeret ön? BENCZE. Eh, nem túl a józan észen. BEÁTRISZ. No akkor a húgom, Ursula s Margit Csalódtak: azt esküdték, hogy szeret. BENCZE. Megesküdtek, hogy ön beteg utánam. BEÁTRISZ. Megesküdtek, hogy ön félholt utánam. BENCZE. Szó sincs ilyesről. – Nos, hát nem szeretsz? BEÁTRISZ. Nem én, nem, csak hű viszonzás fejében. LEONATO. Ej, húgom, én tudom, hogy szereted. CLAUDIO. S én esküszöm, hogy Bencze szereti: Mert itt az írás, a saját kezével, Egy sánta vers, saját mokány agyából, Dicsőítvén Beátriszt. �HÉRO. Itt a másik, Mit húgom írt: zsebéből loptuk el, Szerelemmel teli Bencze iránt. BENCZE. Igazi csuda! Saját kezünk a saját szivünk ellen. – Jer, elveszlek; de a fényes napra mondom, csupa merő szánalomból. BEÁTRISZ. No, nem tagadom meg a kérelmét; de a nap fényére mondom, csak a nagy unszolásnak engedek, és egyrészt azért, hogy megmentsem életét, mert azt mondják, hogy egészen eleped ön. BENCZE. Csitt! Betapasztom a szádat. (Megcsókolja.) HERCZEG. Hogy vagy, Bencze? Megházasodott Bence! BENCZE. Mondok valamit, herczegem. Egy egész kollegium élczgyártó sem tudna engem most kiszurkálni a jó kedvemből. Azt gondolja, törődöm a szatirával vagy epigrammokkal? Nem én: hiszen ha az embert ötletekkel meg lehetne verni, senki sem találna magán egy ép foltot. Egy szó, mint száz: ha nekem kedvem van házasodni, nem gondolok azzal, milyen kedve telik benne a világnak. Tehát soha se szurkáljatok azért, a mit eddig ellene beszéltem, mert az ember változandó. Többet nem mondok. – Veled pedig, Claudio, azt gondoltam, meg fogok verekedni; de miután olyanformán áll, hogy rokonok leszünk, élj békében, megveretlenül, és szeresd a húgom asszonyt. CLAUDIO. �Már-már reméltem, hogy elhagyod Beátriszt, és én e miatt kipáholhatlak ez egy életből; de miután páros életre tértél, ismét páratlan ember vagy: csak magad ne hidd páratlannak magadat, mert akkor a húgomasszony kénytelen lesz szorosan szemmel tartani. BENCZE. Pszt, maradjunk jó barátok. – Tánczoljunk egyet az esküvő előtt, hogy megkönnyüljön a szivünk és a feleségünk czipője. LEONATO. Majd tánczolunk azután. BENCZE. Előre is, uram: rajta, kezdd rá, zene! – Herczeg, ne búsúljon; szerezzen feleséget: nincs a világon olyan kedves kormány, mint a papucskormány. Egy Hirnök jő. HIRNÖK. Fölséges úr, öcscsét, Jánost elfogták És visszahozták fegyverek között. BENCZE. Rá se gondoljon reggelig; majd tanácsolok én derék büntetést neki. – Húzd rá, zenész! (Táncz. Mind el.) Nyitóoldal � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Sok hűhó semmiért (Arany L., 1886) Subject The topic of the resource Much Ado about Nothing 19. századi magyar fordítása Description An account of the resource Digitális, betűhív átirata Arany László fordításának (1886-os kiadás). Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Arany László Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Magyar Elektronikus Könyvtár http://mek.oszk.hu/04500/04551/ Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Ráth Mór Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1886. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource magyar Type The nature or genre of the resource Könyv Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Messina License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Shakspere összes művei. Budapest, Ráth Mór, 1886. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Könyv Zotero Author William Shakespeare Book Author William Shakespeare Translator Arany László Artwork Medium Könyv Book Title Sok hűhó semmiért Date 1886. Edition Második javított kiadás Language magyar Medium Könyv Place Budapest Publisher Ráth Mór Magyar Elektronikus Könyvtár Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. URL http://mek.oszk.hu/04500/04551/ Genre Komédia https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/3fa0c0fe1e35b4127d0e3ab2c6d409e8.pdf f18e6cbb9e5731ec7c70877f94899956 PDF Text Text Much Ado About Nothing William Shakespeare Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine ACT 1 Scene 1 Enter Leonato, Governor of Messina, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his niece, with a Messenger. LEONATO, with a letter I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina. MESSENGER He is very near by this. He was not three leagues off when I left him. LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? MESSENGER But few of any sort, and none of name. LEONATO A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honor on a young Florentine called Claudio. MESSENGER Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro. He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion. He hath indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how. LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. MESSENGER I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him, even so much that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness. LEONATO Did he break out into tears? MESSENGER In great measure. LEONATO A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping! BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the wars or no? MESSENGER I know none of that name, lady. There was none such in the army of any sort. LEONATO What is he that you ask for, niece? HERO My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. MESSENGER O, he’s returned, and as pleasant as ever he was. BEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight, and my uncle’s Fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid and challenged him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? For indeed I promised to eat all of his killing. �LEONATO Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much, but he’ll be meet with you, I doubt it not. MESSENGER He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. BEATRICE You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it. He is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach. MESSENGER And a good soldier too, lady. BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady, but what is he to a lord? MESSENGER A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed with all honorable virtues. BEATRICE It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuffed man, but for the stuffing—well, we are all mortal. LEONATO You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet but there’s a skirmish of wit between them. BEATRICE Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one, so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse, for it is all the wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother. MESSENGER Is ’t possible? BEATRICE Very easily possible. He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block. MESSENGER I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. BEATRICE No. An he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil? MESSENGER He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. BEATRICE O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. MESSENGER I will hold friends with you, lady. BEATRICE Do, good friend. LEONATO You will never run mad, niece. BEATRICE No, not till a hot January. MESSENGER Don Pedro is approached. Enter Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon, with Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, and John the Bastard. PRINCE Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble? The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. �LEONATO Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace, for trouble being gone, comfort should remain, but when you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave. PRINCE You embrace your charge too willingly. Turning to Hero. I think this is your daughter. LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so. BENEDICK Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? LEONATO Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a child. PRINCE You have it full, Benedick. We may guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly the lady fathers herself.—Be happy, lady, for you are like an honorable father. Leonato and the Prince move aside. BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. BEATRICE I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick, nobody marks you. BENEDICK What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living? BEATRICE Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence. BENEDICK Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. BEATRICE A dear happiness to women. They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me. BENEDICK God keep your Ladyship still in that mind, so some gentleman or other shall ’scape a predestinate scratched face. BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse an ’twere such a face as yours were. BENEDICK Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. BEATRICE A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. BENEDICK I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer, but keep your way, i’ God’s name, I have done. BEATRICE You always end with a jade’s trick. I know you of old. Leonato and the Prince come forward. PRINCE That is the sum of all, Leonato.—Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. LEONATO If you swear, my lord, you shall not be �forsworn. To Don John. Let me bid you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother, I owe you all duty. DON JOHN I thank you. I am not of many words, but I thank you. LEONATO Please it your Grace lead on? PRINCE Your hand, Leonato. We will go together. All exit except Benedick and Claudio. CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? BENEDICK I noted her not, but I looked on her. CLAUDIO Is she not a modest young lady? BENEDICK Do you question me as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? Or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? CLAUDIO No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. BENEDICK Why, i’ faith, methinks she’s too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise. Only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. CLAUDIO Thou thinkest I am in sport. I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik’st her. BENEDICK Would you buy her that you enquire after her? CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel? BENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow? Or do you play the flouting jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the song? CLAUDIO In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on. BENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter. There’s her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you? CLAUDIO I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. BENEDICK Is ’t come to this? In 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. Enter Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon. PRINCE What secret hath held you here that you followed not to Leonato’s? BENEDICK I would your Grace would constrain me to �tell. PRINCE I charge thee on thy allegiance. BENEDICK 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. CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered. BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord: “It is not so, nor ’twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.” CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. PRINCE Amen, if you love her, for the lady is very well worthy. CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. PRINCE By my troth, I speak my thought. CLAUDIO And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. BENEDICK And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel. PRINCE That she is worthy, I know. BENEDICK 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. PRINCE Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will. BENEDICK 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 the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor. PRINCE I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. BENEDICK 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. PRINCE Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. BENEDICK 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. PRINCE Well, as time shall try. In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. BENEDICK 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.” CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad. PRINCE Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too, then. PRINCE Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime, 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. BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage, and so I commit you— CLAUDIO To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it— PRINCE The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick. BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is sometimes 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. CLAUDIO My liege, your Highness now may do me good. PRINCE My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. CLAUDIO Hath Leonato any son, my lord? PRINCE No child but Hero; she’s his only heir. Dost thou affect her, Claudio? CLAUDIO O, my lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I looked upon her with a soldier’s eye, That liked, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love. But now I am returned 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 liked her ere I went to wars. PRINCE 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? CLAUDIO How sweetly you do minister to love, That know love’s grief by his complexion! He exits. �But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salved it with a longer treatise. PRINCE What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity. Look what will serve is fit. ’Tis once, thou lovest, And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have reveling tonight. I will assume thy part in some disguise And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosom I’ll unclasp my heart And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale. Then after to her father will I break, And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. In practice let us put it presently. They exit. Scene 2 Enter Leonato, meeting an old man, brother to Leonato. LEONATO How now, brother, where is my cousin, your son? Hath he provided this music? LEONATO’S BROTHER He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamt not of. LEONATO Are they good? LEONATO’S BROTHER As the events stamps them, but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus 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. LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? LEONATO’S BROTHER A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him yourself. LEONATO 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. Enter Antonio’s son, with a Musician and Attendants. 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 cousin, have a care this busy time. They exit. Scene 3 �Enter Sir John the Bastard, and Conrade, his companion. CONRADE What the goodyear, my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? DON JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that breeds. Therefore the sadness is without limit. CONRADE You should hear reason. DON JOHN And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it? CONRADE If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance. DON JOHN I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayst thou art, born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am. I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at 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 humor. CONRADE 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. DON 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 fashion a carriage to rob love from any. In this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent? DON JOHN I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? Enter Borachio. What news, Borachio? BORACHIO 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. DON JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? BORACHIO Marry, it is your brother’s right hand. DON JOHN Who, the most exquisite Claudio? BORACHIO Even he. DON JOHN A proper squire. And who, and who? Which �way looks he? BORACHIO Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. DON JOHN A very forward March chick! How came you to this? BORACHIO 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 whipped 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. DON JOHN Come, come, let us thither. This may prove food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow. If I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me? CONRADE To the death, my lord. DON JOHN Let us to the great supper. Their cheer is the greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were o’ my mind! Shall we go prove what’s to be done? BORACHIO We’ll wait upon your Lordship. They exit. �ACT 2 Scene 1 Enter Leonato, his brother, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his niece, with Ursula and Margaret. LEONATO Was not Count John here at supper? LEONATO’S BROTHER I saw him not. BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am heartburned an hour after. HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition. BEATRICE 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. LEONATO Then half Signior Benedick’s tongue in Count John’s mouth, and half Count John’s melancholy in Signior Benedick’s face— BEATRICE 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 goodwill. LEONATO By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. LEONATO’S BROTHER In faith, she’s too curst. BEATRICE 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. LEONATO So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. BEATRICE 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 woolen! LEONATO You may light on a husband that hath no beard. BEATRICE 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 bearherd, and lead his apes into hell. LEONATO Well then, go you into hell? BEATRICE 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. LEONATO’S BROTHER, to Hero Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father. BEATRICE Yes, faith, it is my cousin’s duty to make curtsy and say “Father, as it please you.” But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say “Father, as it please me.” LEONATO Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. BEATRICE Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? To make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I’ll none. Adam’s sons are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEONATO, to Hero Daughter, remember what I told you. If the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer. BEATRICE 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 cinquepace. 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 legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster till he sink into his grave. LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. LEONATO The revelers are entering, brother. Make good room. Leonato and his brother step aside. Enter, with a Drum, Prince Pedro, Claudio, and Benedick, Signior Antonio, and Balthasar, all in masks, with Borachio and Don John. PRINCE, to Hero Lady, will you walk a bout with your friend? They begin to dance. HERO So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk away. PRINCE With me in your company? HERO I may say so when I please. PRINCE And when please you to say so? HERO When I like your favor, for God defend the lute should be like the case. PRINCE My visor is Philemon’s roof; within the house is Jove. HERO Why, then, your visor should be thatched. PRINCE Speak low if you speak love. �They move aside; Benedick and Margaret move forward. BENEDICK, to Margaret Well, I would you did like me. MARGARET So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities. BENEDICK Which is one? MARGARET I say my prayers aloud. BENEDICK I love you the better; the hearers may cry “Amen.” MARGARET God match me with a good dancer. They separate; Benedick moves aside; Balthasar moves forward. BALTHASAR Amen. MARGARET And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done. Answer, clerk. BALTHASAR No more words. The clerk is answered. They move aside; Ursula and Antonio move forward. URSULA I know you well enough. You are Signior Antonio. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA I know you by the waggling of your head. ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him. URSULA You could never do him so ill-well unless you were the very man. Here’s his dry hand up and down. You are he, you are he. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA 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. They move aside; Benedick and Beatrice move forward. BEATRICE Will you not tell me who told you so? BENEDICK No, you shall pardon me. BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me who you are? BENEDICK Not now. BEATRICE 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. BENEDICK What’s he? BEATRICE I am sure you know him well enough. BENEDICK Not I, believe me. BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh? BENEDICK I pray you, what is he? BEATRICE 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 am sure he is in the fleet.I would he had boarded me. BENEDICK When I know the gentleman, I’ll tell him what you say. BEATRICE Do, do. He’ll but break a comparison or two on me, which peradventure not marked or not �laughed at strikes him into melancholy, and then there’s a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. Music for the dance. We must follow the leaders. BENEDICK In every good thing. BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. Dance. Then exit all except Don John, Borachio, and Claudio. DON JOHN, to Borachio 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. BORACHIO And that is Claudio. I know him by his bearing. DON JOHN, to Claudio Are not you Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO You know me well. I am he. DON JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in his love. He is enamored on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her. She is no equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in it. CLAUDIO How know you he loves her? DON JOHN I heard him swear his affection. BORACHIO So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight. DON JOHN Come, let us to the banquet. They exit. Claudio remains. CLAUDIO, unmasking 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. Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own 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, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore, Hero. Enter Benedick. BENEDICK Count Claudio? CLAUDIO Yea, the same. BENEDICK Come, will you go with me? CLAUDIO Whither? BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own business, county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? About your neck like an 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. CLAUDIO I wish him joy of her. BENEDICK Why, that’s spoken like an honest drover; so they sell bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you thus? �CLAUDIO I pray you, leave me. BENEDICK Ho, now you strike like the blind man. ’Twas the boy that stole your meat, and you’ll beat the post. CLAUDIO If it will not be, I’ll leave you. BENEDICK Alas, poor hurt fowl, now will he creep into sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The Prince’s fool! Ha, it may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so reputed! It is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person and so gives me out. Well, I’ll be revenged as I may. Enter the Prince, Hero, and Leonato. PRINCE Now, signior, where’s the Count? Did you see him? BENEDICK 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 goodwill 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. PRINCE To be whipped? What’s his fault? BENEDICK The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being overjoyed with finding a bird’s nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it. PRINCE Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer. BENEDICK 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. PRINCE I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the owner. BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. PRINCE The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you. BENEDICK O, she misused me past the endurance of a block! An oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her. My very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince’s jester, that I was duller than a great thaw, huddling jest upon jest 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 no living near her; she would infect to the North Star. I would not marry He exits. �her though she were endowed with all that Adam had left 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 Ate 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 follows her. Enter Claudio and Beatrice. PRINCE Look, here she comes. BENEDICK Will your Grace command me any service to the world’s end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on. I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of Prester John’s foot, fetch you a hair off the great Cham’s beard, do you any embassage to the Pygmies, rather than hold three words’ conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me? PRINCE None but to desire your good company. BENEDICK O God, sir, here’s a dish I love not! I cannot endure my Lady Tongue. PRINCE, to Beatrice Come, lady, come, you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. BEATRICE Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one. Marry, once before he won it of me with false dice. Therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it. PRINCE You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. PRINCE Why, how now, count, wherefore are you sad? CLAUDIO Not sad, my lord. PRINCE How then, sick? CLAUDIO Neither, my lord. BEATRICE The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well, but civil count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion. PRINCE I’ faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true, though I’ll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false.—Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won. I have broke with her father and his goodwill obtained. Name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes. His Grace hath made the match, and all grace say “Amen” to it. BEATRICE Speak, count, ’tis your cue. CLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were He exits. �but little happy if I could say how much.—Lady, as you are mine, I am yours. I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange. BEATRICE Speak, cousin, or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss and let not him speak neither. PRINCE In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. BEATRICE 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. CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin. BEATRICE Good Lord for alliance! Thus goes everyone to the world but I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry “Heigh-ho for a husband!” PRINCE Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. BEATRICE 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. PRINCE Will you have me, lady? BEATRICE 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. PRINCE Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you, for out o’ question you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE 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! LEONATO Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? BEATRICE I cry you mercy, uncle.—By your Grace’s pardon. Beatrice exits. PRINCE By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. LEONATO There’s little of the melancholy element in her, my lord. She is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then, for I have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing. PRINCE She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. LEONATO O, by no means. She mocks all her wooers out of suit. PRINCE She were an excellent wife for Benedick. LEONATO O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad. PRINCE County Claudio, when mean you to go to church? CLAUDIO Tomorrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites. LEONATO Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just sevennight, and a time too brief, too, to have all things answer my mind. PRINCE, to Claudio Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing, but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules’ labors, which is to bring �Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, th’ one with th’ other. I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. LEONATO My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights’ watchings. CLAUDIO And I, my lord. PRINCE And you too, gentle Hero? HERO I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. PRINCE And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him: he is of a noble strain, of approved valor, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humor your cousin that she shall fall in love with Benedick.— And I, with your two helps, will so practice on Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. They exit. Scene 2 Enter Don John and Borachio. DON JOHN It is so. The Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. BORACHIO Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. DON JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be med’cinable to me. I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? BORACHIO Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. DON JOHN Show me briefly how. BORACHIO I think I told your Lordship a year since, how much I am in the favor of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. DON JOHN I remember. BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady’s chamber window. DON JOHN What life is in that to be the death of this marriage? BORACHIO The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the Prince your brother; spare not to tell him that he hath wronged his honor in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold up, to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. DON JOHN What proof shall I make of that? BORACHIO Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you �for any other issue? DON JOHN Only to despite them I will endeavor anything. BORACHIO Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone. Tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in love of your brother’s honor, who hath made this match, and his friend’s reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid, that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial. Offer them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber window, hear me call Margaret “Hero,” hear Margaret term me “Claudio,” and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero’s disloyalty that jealousy shall be called assurance and all the preparation overthrown. DON JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. BORACHIO Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. DON JOHN I will presently go learn their day of marriage. They exit. Scene 3 Enter Benedick alone. BENEDICK Boy! Enter Boy. BOY Signior? BENEDICK In my chamber window lies a book. Bring it hither to me in the orchard. BOY I am here already, sir. BENEDICK I know that, but I would have thee hence and here again. I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love—and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife, and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe; I have known when he would have walked ten mile afoot to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier, and now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so Boy exits. �many strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster, but I’ll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain; wise, or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her; fair, or I’ll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what color it please God. Ha! The Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbor. He hides. Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthasar with music. PRINCE Come, shall we hear this music? CLAUDIO Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, As hushed on purpose to grace harmony! PRINCE, aside to Claudio See you where Benedick hath hid himself? CLAUDIO, aside to Prince O, very well my lord. The music ended, We’ll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth. PRINCE Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again. BALTHASAR O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander music any more than once. PRINCE It is the witness still of excellency To put a strange face on his own perfection. I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. BALTHASAR Because you talk of wooing, I will sing, Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he woos, Yet will he swear he loves. PRINCE Nay, pray thee, come, Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes. BALTHASAR Note this before my notes: There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting. PRINCE Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks! Note notes, forsooth, and nothing. Music plays. BENEDICK, aside Now, divine air! Now is his soul ravished. Is it not strange that sheeps’ guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all’s done. BALTHASAR sings �Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey, nonny nonny. Sing no more ditties, sing no mo, Of dumps so dull and heavy. The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leavy. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey, nonny nonny. PRINCE By my troth, a good song. BALTHASAR And an ill singer, my lord. PRINCE Ha, no, no, faith, thou sing’st well enough for a shift. BENEDICK, aside An he had been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him. And I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the night raven, come what plague could have come after it. PRINCE Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee get us some excellent music, for tomorrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber window. BALTHASAR The best I can, my lord. PRINCE Do so. Farewell. Balthasar exits. Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of today, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO O, ay. Aside to Prince. Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits.—I did never think that lady would have loved any man. LEONATO No, nor I neither, but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviors seemed ever to abhor. BENEDICK, aside Is ’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner? LEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. PRINCE Maybe she doth but counterfeit. CLAUDIO Faith, like enough. LEONATO O God! Counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. PRINCE Why, what effects of passion shows she? CLAUDIO, aside to Leonato Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. LEONATO What effects, my lord? She will sit you—you �heard my daughter tell you how. CLAUDIO She did indeed. PRINCE How, how I pray you? You amaze me. I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. LEONATO I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially against Benedick. BENEDICK, aside I should think this a gull but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it. Knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. CLAUDIO, aside to Prince He hath ta’en th’ infection. Hold it up. PRINCE Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? LEONATO No, and swears she never will. That’s her torment. CLAUDIO ’Tis true indeed, so your daughter says. “Shall I,” says she, “that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?” LEONATO This says she now when she is beginning to write to him, for she’ll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us all. CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. LEONATO O, when she had writ it and was reading it over, she found “Benedick” and “Beatrice” between the sheet? CLAUDIO That. LEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, railed at herself that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her. “I measure him,” says she, “by my own spirit, for I should flout him if he writ to me, yea, though I love him, I should.” CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses: “O sweet Benedick, God give me patience!” LEONATO She doth indeed, my daughter says so, and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter is sometimes afeared she will do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true. PRINCE It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. CLAUDIO To what end? He would make but a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse. PRINCE An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an excellent sweet lady, and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise. PRINCE In everything but in loving Benedick. LEONATO O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. PRINCE I would she had bestowed this dotage on me. I �would have daffed all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. LEONATO Were it good, think you? CLAUDIO Hero thinks surely she will die, for she says she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known, and she will die if he woo her rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. PRINCE She doth well. If she should make tender of her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it, for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. CLAUDIO He is a very proper man. PRINCE He hath indeed a good outward happiness. CLAUDIO Before God, and in my mind, very wise. PRINCE He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit. CLAUDIO And I take him to be valiant. PRINCE As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise, for either he avoids them with great discretion or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear. LEONATO If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace. If he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. PRINCE And so will he do, for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of her love? CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord, let her wear it out with good counsel. LEONATO Nay, that’s impossible; she may wear her heart out first. PRINCE Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter. Let it cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady. LEONATO My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready. Leonato, Prince, and Claudio begin to exit. CLAUDIO, aside to Prince and Leonato If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. PRINCE, aside to Leonato Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter. That’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. Prince, Leonato, and Claudio exit. BENEDICK, coming forward This can be no trick. The conference was sadly borne; they have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady. It seems her affections have their full bent. Love me? Why, it must be requited! I hear how I am censured. They say I will bear myself proudly if I perceive the love �come from her. They say, too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair; ’tis a truth, I can bear them witness. And virtuous; ’tis so, I cannot reprove it. And wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her! I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me because I have railed so long against marriage, but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humor? No! The world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she’s a fair lady. I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter Beatrice. BEATRICE Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. BEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me. If it had been painful, I would not have come. BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message? BEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior. Fare you well. BENEDICK Ha! “Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.” There’s a double meaning in that. “I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me.” That’s as much as to say “Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks.” If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture. She exits. He exits. �ACT 3 Scene 1 Enter Hero and two gentlewomen, Margaret and Ursula. HERO Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor. There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing with the Prince and Claudio. Whisper her ear and tell her I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her. Say that thou overheardst us, And bid her steal into the pleachèd bower Where honeysuckles ripened by the sun Forbid the sun to enter, like favorites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it. There will she hide her To listen our propose. This is thy office. Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. MARGARET I’ll make her come, I warrant you, presently. She exits. HERO Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick. When I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin, For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs Close by the ground, to hear our conference. Enter Beatrice, who hides in the bower. URSULA, aside to Hero The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait. So angle we for Beatrice, who even now Is couchèd in the woodbine coverture. Fear you not my part of the dialogue. HERO, aside to Ursula Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.— They walk near the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful. I know her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. URSULA But are you sure �That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? HERO So says the Prince and my new-trothèd lord. URSULA And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? HERO They did entreat me to acquaint her of it, But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection And never to let Beatrice know of it. URSULA Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a bed As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? HERO O god of love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man, But Nature never framed a woman’s heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprizing what they look on, and her wit Values itself so highly that to her All matter else seems weak. She cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared. URSULA Sure, I think so, And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she’ll make sport at it. HERO Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, But she would spell him backward. If fair-faced, She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic, Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; If low, an agate very vilely cut; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. URSULA Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. HERO No, not to be so odd and from all fashions As Beatrice is cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She would mock me into air. O, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly. It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. URSULA �Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say. HERO No, rather I will go to Benedick And counsel him to fight against his passion; And truly I’ll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with. One doth not know How much an ill word may empoison liking. URSULA O, do not do your cousin such a wrong! She cannot be so much without true judgment, Having so swift and excellent a wit As she is prized to have, as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. HERO He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. URSULA I pray you be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument, and valor, Goes foremost in report through Italy. HERO Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. URSULA His excellence did earn it ere he had it. When are you married, madam? HERO Why, every day, tomorrow. Come, go in. I’ll show thee some attires and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me tomorrow. They move away from the bower. URSULA, aside to Hero She’s limed, I warrant you. We have caught her, madam. HERO, aside to Ursula If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. Hero and Ursula exit. BEATRICE, coming forward What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much? Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand. If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly. She exits. Scene 2 Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato. PRINCE I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Aragon. �CLAUDIO I’ll bring you thither, my lord, if you’ll vouchsafe me. PRINCE Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company, for from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot he is all mirth. He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bowstring, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been. LEONATO So say I. Methinks you are sadder. CLAUDIO I hope he be in love. PRINCE Hang him, truant! There’s no true drop of blood in him to be truly touched with love. If he be sad, he wants money. BENEDICK I have the toothache. PRINCE Draw it. BENEDICK Hang it! CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. PRINCE What, sigh for the toothache? LEONATO Where is but a humor or a worm. BENEDICK Well, everyone can master a grief but he that has it. CLAUDIO Yet say I, he is in love. PRINCE There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow, or in the shape of two countries at once, as a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is. CLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs. He brushes his hat o’ mornings. What should that bode? PRINCE Hath any man seen him at the barber’s? CLAUDIO No, but the barber’s man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis balls. LEONATO Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard. PRINCE Nay, he rubs himself with civet. Can you smell him out by that? CLAUDIO That’s as much as to say, the sweet youth’s in love. PRINCE The greatest note of it is his melancholy. CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face? PRINCE Yea, or to paint himself? For the which I hear what they say of him. CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute string and now governed by stops— PRINCE Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude, he is in love. �CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him. PRINCE That would I know, too. I warrant, one that knows him not. CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him. PRINCE She shall be buried with her face upwards. BENEDICK Yet is this no charm for the toothache.— Old signior, walk aside with me. I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear. Benedick and Leonato exit. PRINCE For my life, to break with him about Beatrice! CLAUDIO ’Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. Enter John the Bastard. DON JOHN My lord and brother, God save you. PRINCE Good e’en, brother. DON JOHN If your leisure served, I would speak with you. PRINCE In private? DON JOHN If it please you. Yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him. PRINCE What’s the matter? DON JOHN, to Claudio Means your Lordship to be married tomorrow? PRINCE You know he does. DON JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I know. CLAUDIO If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. DON JOHN You may think I love you not. Let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage—surely suit ill spent and labor ill bestowed. PRINCE Why, what’s the matter? DON JOHN I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, for she has been too long a-talking of, the lady is disloyal. CLAUDIO Who, Hero? DON JOHN Even she: Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero. CLAUDIO Disloyal? DON JOHN The word is too good to paint out her wickedness. I could say she were worse. Think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant. Go but with me tonight, you shall see her chamber window entered, even the night before her wedding day. If you love her then, tomorrow wed her. But it would better fit your honor to change your mind. CLAUDIO, to Prince May this be so? �PRINCE I will not think it. DON JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough, and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. CLAUDIO If I see anything tonight why I should not marry her, tomorrow in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. PRINCE And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. DON JOHN I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses. Bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. PRINCE O day untowardly turned! CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting! DON JOHN O plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have seen the sequel. They exit. Scene 3 Enter Dogberry and his compartner Verges with the Watch. DOGBERRY Are you good men and true? VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. DOGBERRY Nay, that were a punishment too good for them if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince’s watch. VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbor Dogberry. DOGBERRY First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? FIRST WATCHMAN Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal, for they can write and read. DOGBERRY Come hither, neighbor Seacoal. Seacoal steps forward. God hath blessed you with a good name. To be a well-favored man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. SEACOAL Both which, master constable— DOGBERRY You have. I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favor, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince’s name. SEACOAL How if he will not stand? DOGBERRY Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a knave. VERGES If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince’s subjects. DOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but �the Prince’s subjects.—You shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured. SECOND WATCHMAN We will rather sleep than talk. We know what belongs to a watch. DOGBERRY Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend; only have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the alehouses and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. SEACOAL How if they will not? DOGBERRY Why then, let them alone till they are sober. If they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for. SEACOAL Well, sir. DOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man, and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. SEACOAL If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? DOGBERRY Truly, by your office you may, but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled. The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company. VERGES You have been always called a merciful man, partner. DOGBERRY Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. VERGES, to the Watch If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. SECOND WATCHMAN How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us? DOGBERRY Why, then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baas will never answer a calf when he bleats. VERGES ’Tis very true. DOGBERRY This is the end of the charge. You, constable, are to present the Prince’s own person. If you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him. VERGES Nay, by ’r Lady, that I think he cannot. DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on ’t, with any man that knows the statutes, he may stay him—marry, not without the Prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offense to stay a man against his will. VERGES By ’r Lady, I think it be so. DOGBERRY Ha, ah ha!—Well, masters, goodnight. An there be any matter of weight chances, call up me. Keep your fellows’ counsels and your own, and goodnight.—Come, neighbor. Dogberry and Verges begin to exit. SEACOAL Well, masters, we hear our charge. Let us go sit here upon the church bench till two, and then all �to bed. DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you watch about Signior Leonato’s door, for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil tonight. Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you. Dogberry and Verges exit. Enter Borachio and Conrade. BORACHIO What, Conrade! SEACOAL, aside Peace, stir not. BORACHIO Conrade, I say! CONRADE Here, man, I am at thy elbow. BORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itched, I thought there would a scab follow. CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that. And now forward with thy tale. BORACHIO Stand thee close, then, under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. SEACOAL, aside Some treason, masters. Yet stand close. BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. CONRADE Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear? BORACHIO Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villainy should be so rich. For when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. CONRADE I wonder at it. BORACHIO That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. CONRADE Yes, it is apparel. BORACHIO I mean the fashion. CONRADE Yes, the fashion is the fashion. BORACHIO Tush, I may as well say the fool’s the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? FIRST WATCHMAN, aside I know that Deformed. He has been a vile thief this seven year. He goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember his name. BORACHIO Didst thou not hear somebody? CONRADE No, ’twas the vane on the house. BORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is, how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty, sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh’s soldiers in the reechy painting, sometimes like god Bel’s priests in the old church window, sometimes like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club? CONRADE All this I see, and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou �thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? BORACHIO Not so, neither. But know that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero’s gentlewoman, by the name of Hero. She leans me out at her mistress’ chamber window, bids me a thousand times goodnight. I tell this tale vilely. I should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable amiable encounter. CONRADE And thought they Margaret was Hero? BORACHIO Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged, swore he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o’ernight and send her home again without a husband. FIRST WATCHMAN We charge you in the Prince’s name stand! SEACOAL Call up the right Master Constable. Second Watchman exits. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. FIRST WATCHMAN And one Deformed is one of them. I know him; he wears a lock. Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Second Watchman. DOGBERRY Masters, masters— FIRST WATCHMAN, to Borachio You’ll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. DOGBERRY, to Borachio and Conrade Masters, never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. BORACHIO, to Conrade We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men’s bills. CONRADE A commodity in question, I warrant you.— Come, we’ll obey you. They exit. Scene 4 Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Ursula. HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and desire her to rise. URSULA I will, lady. HERO And bid her come hither. URSULA Well. MARGARET Troth, I think your other rebato were better. Ursula exits. �HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I’ll wear this. MARGARET By my troth, ’s not so good, and I warrant your cousin will say so. HERO My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another. I’ll wear none but this. MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that they praise so. HERO O, that exceeds, they say. MARGARET By my troth, ’s but a nightgown in respect of yours—cloth o’ gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts round underborne with a bluish tinsel. But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on ’t. HERO God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy. MARGARET ’Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. HERO Fie upon thee! Art not ashamed? MARGARET Of what, lady? Of speaking honorably? Is not marriage honorable in a beggar? Is not your lord honorable without marriage? I think you would have me say “Saving your reverence, a husband.” An bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I’ll offend nobody. Is there any harm in “the heavier for a husband”? None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife. Otherwise, ’tis light and not heavy. Ask my lady Beatrice else. Here she comes. Enter Beatrice. HERO Good morrow, coz. BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. HERO Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune? BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. MARGARET Clap ’s into “Light o’ love.” That goes without a burden. Do you sing it, and I’ll dance it. BEATRICE You light o’ love with your heels! Then, if your husband have stables enough, you’ll see he shall lack no barns. MARGARET O, illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. BEATRICE ’Tis almost five o’clock, cousin. ’Tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Heigh-ho! MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H. MARGARET Well, an you be not turned Turk, there’s no more sailing by the star. BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? MARGARET Nothing, I; but God send everyone their heart’s desire. HERO These gloves the Count sent me, they are an �excellent perfume. BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin. I cannot smell. MARGARET A maid, and stuffed! There’s goodly catching of cold. BEATRICE O, God help me, God help me! How long have you professed apprehension? MARGARET Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely? BEATRICE It is not seen enough; you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. MARGARET 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 prick’st her with a thistle. BEATRICE Benedictus! Why benedictus? You have some moral in this benedictus? MARGARET 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 can, nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my heart 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 never marry, and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging. And how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do. BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? MARGARET Not a false gallop. Enter Ursula. URSULA 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. They exit. Scene 5 Enter Leonato, and Dogberry, the Constable, and Verges, the Headborough. LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbor? DOGBERRY Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly. LEONATO Brief, I pray you, for you see it is a busy time with me. DOGBERRY Marry, this it is, sir. VERGES Yes, in truth, it is, sir. LEONATO What is it, my good friends? DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter. An old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire they were, but, in faith, �honest as the skin between his brows. VERGES Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I. DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbor Verges. LEONATO Neighbors, you are tedious. DOGBERRY It pleases your Worship to say so, but we are the poor duke’s officers. But truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your Worship. LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ah? DOGBERRY Yea, an ’twere a thousand pound more than ’tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your Worship as of any man in the city, and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. VERGES And so am I. LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. VERGES Marry, sir, our watch tonight, excepting your Worship’s presence, ha’ ta’en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. DOGBERRY 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, neighbor Verges.—Well, 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 worshiped, all men are not alike, alas, good neighbor. LEONATO Indeed, neighbor, he comes too short of you. DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives. LEONATO I must leave you. DOGBERRY One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your Worship. LEONATO Take their examination yourself and bring it me. I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you. DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well. Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. LEONATO I’ll wait upon them. I am ready. He exits, with the Messenger. DOGBERRY Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacoal. Bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to examination these men. VERGES And we must do it wisely. DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. Here’s that shall drive some of them to a noncome. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication and meet me at the jail. They exit. ��ACT 4 Scene 1 Enter Prince, John the Bastard, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, with Attendants. LEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. FRIAR, to Claudio You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? CLAUDIO No. LEONATO To be married to her.—Friar, you come to marry her. FRIAR Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? 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. CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? HERO None, my lord. FRIAR Know you any, count? LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. CLAUDIO O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do! BENEDICK How now, interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as ah, ha, he! CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar.—Father, by your leave, Will you with free and unconstrainèd soul Give me this maid, your daughter? LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me. CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? PRINCE Nothing, unless you render her again. CLAUDIO Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.— There, Leonato, take her back again. Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She’s but the sign and semblance of her honor. Behold how like a maid she blushes here! O, what authority and show of truth 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. She knows the heat of a luxurious bed. �Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. LEONATO What do you mean, my lord? CLAUDIO Not to be married, Not to knit my soul to an approvèd wanton. LEONATO Dear my lord, if you in your own proof Have vanquished the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity— CLAUDIO I know what you would say: if I have known her, You will say she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large, But, as a brother to his sister, showed Bashful sincerity and comely love. HERO And seemed I ever otherwise to you? CLAUDIO Out on thee, seeming! I will write against it. 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 pampered animals That rage in savage sensuality. HERO Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide? LEONATO Sweet prince, why speak not you? PRINCE What should I speak? I stand dishonored that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale. LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? DON JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial. HERO True! O God! CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince’s brother? Is this face Hero’s? Are our eyes our own? LEONATO All this is so, but what of this, my lord? CLAUDIO 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. LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. HERO O, God defend me, how am I beset!— What kind of catechizing call you this? CLAUDIO To make you answer truly to your name. �HERO Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name With any just reproach? CLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero! Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue. What man was he talked with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. HERO I talked with no man at that hour, my lord. PRINCE Why, then, are you no maiden.—Leonato, I am sorry you must hear. Upon mine honor, Myself, my brother, and this grievèd count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confessed the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. DON JOHN Fie, fie, they are not to be named, my lord, Not to be spoke of! There is not chastity enough in language, Without offense, to utter them.—Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. CLAUDIO O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been If half thy outward graces had been placed 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 And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious. LEONATO Hath no man’s dagger here a point for me? Hero falls. BEATRICE Why, how now, cousin, wherefore sink you down? DON JOHN Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. Claudio, Prince, and Don John exit. BENEDICK How doth the lady? BEATRICE Dead, I think.—Help, uncle!— Hero, why Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! LEONATO O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand! Death is the fairest cover for her shame That may be wished for. BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero? Hero stirs. FRIAR, to Hero Have comfort, lady. LEONATO, to Hero Dost thou look up? �FRIAR Yea, wherefore should she not? LEONATO 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, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, Strike at thy life. Grieved I I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal Nature’s frame? O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not with charitable hand Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates, Who, smirchèd thus, and mired with infamy, I might have said “No part of it is mine; This shame derives itself from unknown loins”? 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 fall’n 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 To her foul tainted flesh! BENEDICK Sir, sir, be patient. For my part, I am so attired in wonder I know not what to say. BEATRICE O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? BEATRICE No, truly not, although until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. LEONATO Confirmed, confirmed! O, that is stronger made Which was before barred up with ribs of iron! Would the two princes lie and Claudio lie, Who loved her so that, speaking of her foulness, Washed it with tears? Hence from her. Let her die! FRIAR Hear me a little, For I have only silent been so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady. I have marked A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes, And in her eye there hath appeared a fire To burn the errors that these princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool, Trust not my reading nor my observations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenor of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, �If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Under some biting error. LEONATO 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 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, Let all my sins lack mercy!—O my father, Prove you that any man with me conversed At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintained the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death! FRIAR There is some strange misprision in the princes. BENEDICK Two of them have the very bent of honor, And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the Bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies. LEONATO I know not. If they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honor, 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, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, 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. FRIAR Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princes left for dead. Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed. Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family’s old monument Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. LEONATO What shall become of this? What will this do? 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 maintained, Upon the instant that she was accused, �Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused Of every hearer. For it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, Why then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio. When he shall hear she died upon his words, Th’ idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come appareled in more precious habit, More moving, delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 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 Will fashion the event in better shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim but this be leveled false, The supposition of the lady’s death Will quench the wonder of her infamy. 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. BENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you. And though you know my inwardness and love Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honor, I will deal in this As secretly and justly as your soul Should with your body. LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, 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 Perhaps is but prolonged. Have patience and endure. All but Beatrice and Benedick exit. BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. BENEDICK I will not desire that. BEATRICE You have no reason. I do it freely. BENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. BEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! BENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship? BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. BENEDICK May a man do it? �BEATRICE It is a man’s office, but not yours. BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange? BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you, but believe me not, and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me! BEATRICE Do not swear and eat it. BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee. BEATRICE Why then, God forgive me. BENEDICK What offense, sweet Beatrice? BEATRICE You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to protest I loved you. BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. BENEDICK Come, bid me do anything for thee. BEATRICE Kill Claudio. BENEDICK Ha! Not for the wide world. BEATRICE You kill me to deny it. Farewell. She begins to exit. BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. BEATRICE I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go. BENEDICK Beatrice— BEATRICE In faith, I will go. BENEDICK We’ll be friends first. BEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy. BENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy? BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain that hath slandered, scorned, dishonored 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 rancor—O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace. BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice— BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying. BENEDICK Nay, but Beatrice— BEATRICE Sweet Hero, she is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. BENEDICK Beat— BEATRICE Princes and counties! Surely a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant, surely! O, that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into curtsies, valor into compliment, and men 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 woman with grieving. BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. BENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero? BEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. BENEDICK Enough, I am engaged. I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead, and so farewell. They exit. Scene 2 Enter the Constables Dogberry and Verges, and the Town Clerk, or Sexton, in gowns, with the Watch, Conrade, and Borachio. DOGBERRY Is our whole dissembly appeared? VERGES O, a stool and a cushion for the Sexton. A stool is brought in; the Sexton sits. SEXTON Which be the malefactors? DOGBERRY Marry, that am I, and my partner. VERGES Nay, that’s certain, we have the exhibition to examine. SEXTON But which are the offenders that are to be examined? Let them come before Master Constable. DOGBERRY Yea, marry, let them come before me. Conrade and Borachio are brought forward. What is your name, friend? BORACHIO Borachio. DOGBERRY Pray, write down “Borachio.”—Yours, sirrah? CONRADE I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. DOGBERRY Write down “Master Gentleman Conrade.”— Masters, do you serve God? BORACHIO/CONRADE Yea, sir, we hope. DOGBERRY 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 are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves? CONRADE Marry, sir, we say we are none. DOGBERRY A marvelous witty fellow, I assure you, but I will go about with him.—Come you hither, sirrah, a word in your ear. Sir, I say to you it is thought you are false knaves. BORACHIO Sir, I say to you we are none. �DOGBERRY Well, stand aside.—’Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down that they are none? SEXTON Master constable, you go not the way to examine. You must call forth the watch that are their accusers. DOGBERRY Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way.—Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you in the Prince’s name, accuse these men. FIRST WATCHMAN This man said, sir, that Don John, the Prince’s brother, was a villain. DOGBERRY Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain! BORACHIO Master constable— DOGBERRY Pray thee, fellow, peace. I do not like thy look, I promise thee. SEXTON, to Watch What heard you him say else? SEACOAL Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. DOGBERRY Flat burglary as ever was committed. VERGES Yea, by Mass, that it is. SEXTON What else, fellow? FIRST WATCHMAN And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. DOGBERRY, to Borachio O, villain! Thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this! SEXTON What else? SEACOAL This is all. SEXTON 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 these men be bound and brought to Leonato’s. I will go before and show him their examination. He exits. DOGBERRY Come, let them be opinioned. VERGES Let them be in the hands— CONRADE Off, coxcomb! DOGBERRY God’s my life, where’s the Sexton? Let him write down the Prince’s officer “coxcomb.” Come, bind them.—Thou naughty varlet! CONRADE Away! You are an ass, you are an ass! DOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not 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 is more, an officer and, which is more, a householder and, 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, go to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and everything �handsome about him.—Bring him away.—O, that I had been writ down an ass! They exit. �ACT 5 Scene 1 Enter Leonato and his brother. LEONATO’S BROTHER If you go on thus, you will kill yourself, And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself. LEONATO I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel, Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. Bring me a father that so loved his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, And bid him speak of patience. Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain, As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape, and form. If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, Bid sorrow wag, cry “hem” when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters, bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man. For, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel, but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial med’cine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words. No, no, ’tis all men’s office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel. My griefs cry louder than advertisement. LEONATO’S BROTHER Therein do men from children nothing differ. LEONATO I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood, For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods And made a push at chance and sufferance. LEONATO’S BROTHER Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself. Make those that do offend you suffer too. LEONATO There thou speak’st reason. Nay, I will do so. �My soul doth tell me Hero is belied, And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince And all of them that thus dishonor her. Enter Prince and Claudio. LEONATO’S BROTHER Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. PRINCE Good e’en, good e’en. CLAUDIO Good day to both of you. LEONATO Hear you, my lords— PRINCE We have some haste, Leonato. LEONATO Some haste, my lord! Well, fare you well, my lord. Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one. PRINCE Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. LEONATO’S BROTHER If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lie low. CLAUDIO Who wrongs him? LEONATO Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou. Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword. I fear thee not. CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand If it should give your age such cause of fear. In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. LEONATO Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me. I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As under privilege of age to brag What I have done being young, or what would do Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wronged mine innocent child and me That I am forced to lay my reverence by, And with gray hairs and bruise of many days Do challenge thee to trial of a man. I say thou hast belied mine innocent child. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors, O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, framed by thy villainy. CLAUDIO My villainy? LEONATO Thine, Claudio, thine, I say. PRINCE You say not right, old man. LEONATO My lord, my lord, I’ll prove it on his body if he dare, Despite his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth and bloom of lustihood. �CLAUDIO Away! I will not have to do with you. LEONATO Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast killed my child. If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. LEONATO’S BROTHER He shall kill two of us, and men indeed, But that’s no matter. Let him kill one first. Win me and wear me! Let him answer me.— Come, follow me, boy. Come, sir boy, come, follow me. Sir boy, I’ll whip you from your foining fence, Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. LEONATO Brother— LEONATO’S BROTHER Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece, And she is dead, slandered to death by villains That dare as well answer a man indeed As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.— Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! LEONATO Brother Anthony— LEONATO’S BROTHER Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple— Scambling, outfacing, fashionmonging boys, That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, Go anticly and show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dang’rous words How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, And this is all. LEONATO But brother Anthony— LEONATO’S BROTHER Come, ’tis no matter. Do not you meddle. Let me deal in this. PRINCE Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death, But, on my honor, she was charged with nothing But what was true and very full of proof. LEONATO My lord, my lord— PRINCE I will not hear you. LEONATO No? Come, brother, away. I will be heard. LEONATO’S BROTHER And shall, or some of us will smart for it. Leonato and his brother exit. Enter Benedick. PRINCE See, see, here comes the man we went to seek. CLAUDIO Now, signior, what news? BENEDICK, to Prince Good day, my lord. PRINCE Welcome, signior. You are almost come to part almost a fray. CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth. �PRINCE Leonato and his brother. What think’st thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valor. I came to seek you both. CLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are high-proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit? BENEDICK It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it? PRINCE Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? CLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels: draw to pleasure us. PRINCE As I am an honest man, he looks pale.—Art thou sick, or angry? CLAUDIO, to Benedick What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat? Thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me. I pray you, choose another subject. CLAUDIO, to Prince Nay, then, give him another staff. This last was broke ’cross. PRINCE By this light, he changes more and more. I think he be angry indeed. CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear? CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge! BENEDICK, aside to Claudio You are a villain. I jest not. I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. CLAUDIO Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. PRINCE What, a feast, a feast? CLAUDIO I’ faith, I thank him. He hath bid me to a calf’s head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife’s naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. PRINCE I’ll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day. I said thou hadst a fine wit. “True,” said she, “a fine little one.” “No,” said I, “a great wit.” “Right,” says she, “a great gross one.” “Nay,” said I, “a good wit.” “Just,” said she, “it hurts nobody.” “Nay,” said I, “the gentleman is wise.” “Certain,” said she, “a wise gentleman.” “Nay,” said I, “he hath the tongues.” “That I believe,” said she, “for he swore a thing to me on Monday night which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there’s a double tongue, there’s two tongues.” Thus did she an hour together transshape thy particular virtues. Yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the proper’st man in Italy. �CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not. PRINCE Yea, that she did. But yet for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly. The old man’s daughter told us all. CLAUDIO All, all. And, moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden. PRINCE But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head? CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath: “Here dwells Benedick, the married man”? BENEDICK Fare you well, boy. You know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humor. You break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not.—My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you. I must discontinue your company. Your brother the Bastard is fled from Messina. You have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet, and till then peace be with him. Benedick exits. PRINCE He is in earnest. CLAUDIO In most profound earnest, and, I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. PRINCE And hath challenged thee? CLAUDIO Most sincerely. PRINCE What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit! CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. PRINCE But soft you, let me be. Pluck up, my heart, and be sad. Did he not say my brother was fled? Enter Constables Dogberry and Verges, and the Watch, with Conrade and Borachio. DOGBERRY Come you, sir. If justice cannot tame you, she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance. Nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to. PRINCE How now, two of my brother’s men bound? Borachio one! CLAUDIO Hearken after their offense, my lord. PRINCE Officers, what offense have these men done? DOGBERRY Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. PRINCE First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offense; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge. CLAUDIO Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there’s one meaning well suited. PRINCE, to Borachio and Conrade Who have you offended, �masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What’s your offense? BORACHIO Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer. Do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments, how you disgraced her when you should marry her. My villainy they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation. And, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. PRINCE, to Claudio Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? CLAUDIO I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it. PRINCE, to Borachio But did my brother set thee on to this? BORACHIO Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. PRINCE He is composed and framed of treachery, And fled he is upon this villainy. CLAUDIO Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I loved it first. DOGBERRY Come, bring away the plaintiffs. By this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. VERGES Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. Enter Leonato, his brother, and the Sexton. LEONATO Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes, That, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him. Which of these is he? BORACHIO If you would know your wronger, look on me. LEONATO Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killed Mine innocent child? BORACHIO Yea, even I alone. LEONATO No, not so, villain, thou beliest thyself. Here stand a pair of honorable men— A third is fled—that had a hand in it.— I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death. �Record it with your high and worthy deeds. ’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. CLAUDIO I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself. Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin. Yet sinned I not But in mistaking. PRINCE By my soul, nor I, And yet to satisfy this good old man I would bend under any heavy weight That he’ll enjoin me to. LEONATO I cannot bid you bid my daughter live— That were impossible—but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here How innocent she died. And if your love Can labor aught in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb And sing it to her bones. Sing it tonight. Tomorrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that’s dead, And she alone is heir to both of us. Give her the right you should have giv’n her cousin, And so dies my revenge. CLAUDIO O, noble sir! Your overkindness doth wring tears from me. I do embrace your offer and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. LEONATO Tomorrow then I will expect your coming. Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was packed in all this wrong, Hired to it by your brother. BORACHIO No, by my soul, she was not, Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But always hath been just and virtuous In anything that I do know by her. DOGBERRY, to Leonato Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass. I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed. They say he wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging by it and borrows money in God’s name, the which he hath used so long and never paid that now men grow hardhearted and will lend nothing for God’s sake. Pray you, examine him upon that point. LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. DOGBERRY Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth, and I praise God for you. LEONATO, giving him money There’s for thy pains. DOGBERRY God save the foundation. �LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. DOGBERRY I leave an arrant knave with your Worship, which I beseech your Worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your Worship! I wish your Worship well. God restore you to health. I humbly give you leave to depart, and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it.— Come, neighbor. Dogberry and Verges exit. LEONATO Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell. LEONATO’S BROTHER Farewell, my lords. We look for you tomorrow. PRINCE We will not fail. CLAUDIO Tonight I’ll mourn with Hero. LEONATO, to Watch Bring you these fellows on.—We’ll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. They exit. Scene 2 Enter Benedick and Margaret. BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it, for in most comely truth thou deservest it. MARGARET To have no man come over me? Why, shall I always keep below stairs? BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound’s mouth; it catches. MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer’s foils, which hit but hurt not. BENEDICK A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a woman. And so, I pray thee, call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers. MARGARET Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. BENEDICK If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. BENEDICK And therefore will come. Margaret exits. Sings The god of love That sits above, And knows me, and knows me, How pitiful I deserve— I mean in singing. But in loving, Leander the good �swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book full of these quondam carpetmongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme. I have tried. I can find out no rhyme to “lady” but “baby”—an innocent rhyme; for “scorn,” “horn”—a hard rhyme; for “school,” “fool”—a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings. No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE “Then” is spoken. Fare you well now. And yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. BENEDICK Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. BEATRICE Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome. Therefore I will depart unkissed. BENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? BEATRICE For them all together, which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? BENEDICK Suffer love! A good epithet. I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will. BEATRICE In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart, if you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates. BENEDICK Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. BEATRICE It appears not in this confession. There’s not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. BENEDICK An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbors. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps. BEATRICE And how long is that, think you? BENEDICK Question: why, an hour in clamor and a quarter in rheum. Therefore is it most expedient for �the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy. And now tell me, how doth your cousin? BEATRICE Very ill. BENEDICK And how do you? BEATRICE Very ill, too. BENEDICK Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula. URSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder’s old coil at home. It is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the Prince and Claudio mightily abused, and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently? Ursula exits. BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, signior? BENEDICK I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s. They exit. Scene 3 Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or four Lords with tapers, and Musicians. CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato? FIRST LORD It is, my lord. CLAUDIO, reading an Epitaph. Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero that here lies. Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life that died with shame Lives in death with glorious fame. He hangs up the scroll. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. Now music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. Song Pardon, goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight, For the which with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight, assist our moan. Help us to sigh and groan Heavily, heavily. Graves, yawn and yield your dead, Till death be utterèd, Heavily, heavily. �CLAUDIO Now, unto thy bones, goodnight. Yearly will I do this rite. PRINCE Good morrow, masters. Put your torches out. The wolves have preyed, and look, the gentle day Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray. Thanks to you all, and leave us. Fare you well. CLAUDIO Good morrow, masters. Each his several way. Lords and Musicians exit. PRINCE Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds, And then to Leonato’s we will go. CLAUDIO And Hymen now with luckier issue speed ’s, Than this for whom we rendered up this woe. They exit. Scene 4 Enter Leonato, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, Leonato’s brother, Friar, Hero. FRIAR Did I not tell you she was innocent? LEONATO So are the Prince and Claudio, who accused her Upon the error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question. LEONATO’S BROTHER Well, I am glad that all things sorts so well. BENEDICK And so am I, being else by faith enforced To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. LEONATO Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither masked. The Prince and Claudio promised by this hour To visit me.—You know your office, brother. You must be father to your brother’s daughter, And give her to young Claudio. LEONATO’S BROTHER Which I will do with confirmed countenance. BENEDICK Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. FRIAR To do what, signior? BENEDICK To bind me, or undo me, one of them.— Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favor. LEONATO That eye my daughter lent her; ’tis most true. The ladies exit. �BENEDICK And I do with an eye of love requite her. LEONATO The sight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio, and the Prince. But what’s your will? BENEDICK Your answer, sir, is enigmatical. But for my will, my will is your goodwill May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined In the state of honorable marriage— In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. LEONATO My heart is with your liking. FRIAR And my help. Here comes the Prince and Claudio. Enter Prince, and Claudio, and two or three other. PRINCE Good morrow to this fair assembly. LEONATO Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio. We here attend you. Are you yet determined Today to marry with my brother’s daughter? CLAUDIO I’ll hold my mind were she an Ethiope. LEONATO Call her forth, brother. Here’s the Friar ready. Leonato’s brother exits. PRINCE Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? CLAUDIO I think he thinks upon the savage bull. Tush, fear not, man. We’ll tip thy horns with gold, And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove When he would play the noble beast in love. BENEDICK Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your father’s cow And got a calf in that same noble feat Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. CLAUDIO For this I owe you. Here comes other reck’nings. Enter Leonato’s brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, the ladies masked. Which is the lady I must seize upon? LEONATO This same is she, and I do give you her. CLAUDIO Why, then, she’s mine.—Sweet, let me see your face. LEONATO No, that you shall not till you take her hand �Before this friar and swear to marry her. CLAUDIO, to Hero Give me your hand before this holy friar. They take hands. I am your husband, if you like of me. HERO And when I lived, I was your other wife, And when you loved, you were my other husband. She unmasks. CLAUDIO Another Hero! HERO Nothing certainer. One Hero died defiled, but I do live, And surely as I live, I am a maid. PRINCE The former Hero! Hero that is dead! LEONATO She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. FRIAR All this amazement can I qualify, When after that the holy rites are ended, I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death. Meantime let wonder seem familiar, And to the chapel let us presently. BENEDICK Soft and fair, friar.—Which is Beatrice? BEATRICE, unmasking I answer to that name. What is your will? BENEDICK Do not you love me? BEATRICE Why no, no more than reason. BENEDICK Why then, your uncle and the Prince and Claudio Have been deceived. They swore you did. BEATRICE Do not you love me? BENEDICK Troth, no, no more than reason. BEATRICE Why then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula Are much deceived, for they did swear you did. BENEDICK They swore that you were almost sick for me. BEATRICE They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. BENEDICK ’Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me? BEATRICE No, truly, but in friendly recompense. LEONATO Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. CLAUDIO And I’ll be sworn upon ’t that he loves her, For here’s a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashioned to Beatrice. He shows a paper. HERO And here’s another, �Writ in my cousin’s hand, stol’n from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. She shows a paper. BENEDICK A miracle! Here’s our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity. BEATRICE I would not deny you, but by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. BENEDICK Peace! I will stop your mouth. They kiss. PRINCE How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? BENEDICK I’ll tell thee what, prince: a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No. If a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it, and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it. For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.—For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. CLAUDIO I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgeled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer, which out of question thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. BENEDICK Come, come, we are friends. Let’s have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives’ heels. LEONATO We’ll have dancing afterward. BENEDICK First, of my word! Therefore play, music.— Prince, thou art sad. Get thee a wife, get thee a wife. There is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn. Enter Messenger. MESSENGER, to Prince My lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. BENEDICK, to Prince Think not on him till tomorrow. I’ll devise thee brave punishments for him.—Strike up, pipers! Music plays. They dance. They exit. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Mowat, Werstine, 2006) Subject The topic of the resource 21. századi, szerkesztett szövegváltozat Description An account of the resource 21. századi digitális, gondozott szövegváltozat Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Folger Shakespeare Library http://www.folgerdigitaltexts.org/?chapter=5&play=Ado&loc=p7&_ga=1.161908412.1246290172.1449418171 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Folger Shakespeare Library Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2006 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Barbara A. Mowat Paul Werstine Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Könyv Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource Komédia Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Washington DC License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Digital text Zotero Author William Shakespeare Book Author William Shakespeare Editor Barbara A. Mowat Paul Werstine Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 2016. Genre Komédia Language angol Medium Könyv Place Washington DC Publisher Folger Shakespeare Library Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. digitális szöveg komédia kritikai kiadás Sok hűhó semmiért https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/3782f4e9306bfcbd9773fa4f114887fc.pdf 5a26fc0f563ab09f6d85115f85cca94a PDF Text Text Much adoe about Nothing. [Page 101] Actus primus, Scena prima. [Act 1, Scene 1] Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, He ro his daughter, and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger. Leonato. I Learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arra gon, comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very neere by this: he was not three Leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this action? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer brings home full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Pe ter hath bestowed much honor on a yong Florentine, cal led Claudio. Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remem bred by Don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expecta tion, then you must expect of me to tell you how. Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very much glad of it. Mess. I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could not shew it selfe modest enough, without a badg of bit ternesse. Leo. Did he breake out into teares? Mess. In great measure. Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no fa ces truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much bet ter is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping? Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the warres, or no? Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was none such in the armie of any sort. Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece? Hero. My cousin meanes Signior Benedick of Padua Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleasant as euer he was. Beat. He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd Cupid at the Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kil'd and �eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing. Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too much, but hee'l be meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars. Beat. You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to ease it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an excellent stomacke. Mess. And a good souldier too Lady. Beat. And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he to a Lord? Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with all honourable vertues. Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man: but for the stuffing well, we are all mortall. Leon. You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her: they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them. Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last con flict, foure of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is the whole man gouern'd with one: so that if hee haue wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him beare it for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath euery month a new sworne brother. Mess. [Is't] possible? Beat. Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with yͤnext block. Mess. I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your bookes. Bea. No, and he were, I would burne my study. But I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now, [...]that will make a voyage with him to the diuell? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease: he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cur'd. Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady. Bea. �Do good friend. Leo. You'l ne're run mad Neece. Bea. No, not till a hot Ianuary. Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd. Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar, and Iohn the bastard. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to auoid cost, and you encounter it. Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should remaine: but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happinesse takes his leaue. I3Pedro. [Page 102] Much adoe about Nothing. Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I thinke this is your daughter. Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so. Bened. Were you in doubt that you askt her? Leonato. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a childe. Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her selfe: be happie Lady, for you are like an honorable father. Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not haue his head on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedicke, no body markes you. Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet liuing? Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke? Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in her presence. Bene. Then is curtesie a turneȑcoate, but it is cer taine I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truely I loue none. Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man �sweare he loues me. Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde, so [...] some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere such a face as yours were. Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher. Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of your. Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer, but keepe your way a Gods name, I haue done. Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know you of old. Pedro. This is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Clau dio, and signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath inuited you all, I tell him we shall stay here, at the least a moneth, and he heartily praies some occasion may de taine vs longer: I dare sweare hee is no hypocrite, but praies from his heart. Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be for sworne, let mee bid you welcome, my Lord, being re conciled to the Prince your brother: I owe you all duetie. Iohn. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I thanke you. Leon. Please it your grace leade on? Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together. Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio. Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of sig nior Leonato? Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her. Claud. Is she not a modest yong Ladie? Bene. Doe you question me as an honest man should doe, for my simple true iudgement? or would you haue me speake after my custome, as being a professed tyrant to their sexe? Clau. No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement. Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shee's too low for a hie praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too little for a great praise, onely this commendation I can affoord her, that were shee other then she is, she were vnhandsome, and being no other, but as she is, I doe not like her. Clau. �Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truely how thou lik'st her. Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after her? Clau. Can the world buie such a iewell? Ben. Yea, and a case to put it into, but speake you this with a sad brow? Or doe you play the flowting iacke, to tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare Carpenter: Come, in what key shall [a man] take you to goe in the song? Clau. In mine eie, she is the sweetest Ladie that euer I lookt on. Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there's her cosin, and she were not possest with a furie, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first of Maie doth the last of December: but I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you? Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had sworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife. Bene. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the world one man but he will weare his cap with suspition? shall I ne uer see a batcheller of three score againe? goe to yfaith, and thou wilt needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare the print of it, and sigh away sundaies: looke, don Pedro is returned to seeke you. Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard. Pedr. What secret hath held you here, that you fol lowed not to Leonatoes? Bened. I would your Grace would constraine mee to tell. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance. Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumbe man, I would haue you thinke so (but on my al legiance, marke you this, on my allegiance) hee is in loue, With who? now that is your Graces part: marke how short his answere is, with Hero, Leonatoes short daughter. Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred. Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so. Clau. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie well worthie. Clau. You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord. �Pedr. By my troth I speake my thought. Clau. And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine. Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speake mine. Clau. That I loue her, I feele. Pedr. That she is worthie, I know. Bened. That I neither feele how shee should be lo ued, nor know how shee should be worthie, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at the stake. Pedr. Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the de spight of Beautie. Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force of his will. Bene. That [Page 103] Much adoe about Nothing. Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that she brought mee vp, I likewise giue her most humble thankes: but that I will haue a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an inuisible baldricke, all women shall pardon me: because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will doe my selfe the right to trust none: and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the finer) I will liue a Batchellor. Pedro. I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue. Bene. With anger, with sicknesse, or with hunger, my Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more blood with loue, then I will get againe with drinking, picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and hang me vp at the doore of a brothel-house for the signe of blinde Cupid. Pedro. Well, if euer thou doost fall from this faith, thou wilt proue a notable argument. Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapt on the shoul der, and cal'd Adam. Pedro. Well, as time shall trie: In time the sauage Bull doth beare [the] yoake. Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and in such great Letters as they write, heere is good horse to hire: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may see Benedicke the married man. Clau. �If this should euer happen, thou wouldst bee horne mad. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quiuer in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the houres, in the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leo natoes, commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile him at supper, for indeede he hath made great prepara tion. Bene. I haue almost matter enough in me for such an Embassage, and so I commit you. Clau. To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it. Pedro. The sixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedick. Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guardes are but slightly basted on neither, ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I leaue you. Exit. Clau. My Liege, your Highnesse now may doe mee good. Pedro. My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learne Any hard Lesson that may do thee good. Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne my Lord? Pedro. No childe but Hero, she's his onely heire. Dost thou affect her Claudio? Clau. O my Lord, When you went onward on this ended action,Note:An ink mark follows the end of this line. I look'd vpon her with a souldiers eie, That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand, Than to driue liking to the name of loue: But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes, Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is, Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer presently, And tire the hearer with a booke of words: If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it, And I will breake with her: wast not to this end, That thou began[st] to twist so fine a story? Clau. How sweetly doe you minister to loue, That know loues griefe by his complexion! �But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme, I would haue salu'd it with a longer treatise. Ped. What need yͤbridge much broder then the flood? The fairest graunt is the necessitie: Looke what will serue, is fit: 'tis once, thou louest, And I will fit thee with the remedie, I know we shall haue reuelling to night, I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell faire Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosome Ile vnclaspe my heart, And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong incounter of my amorous tale: Then after, to her father will I breake, And the conclusion is, shee shall be thine, In practise let vs put it presently. Exeunt. [Act 1, Scene 2] Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato. Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your son: hath he prouided this musicke? Old. He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell you newes that you yet dreamt not of. Lo. Are they good? Old. As the euents stamps them, but they haue a good couer: they shew well outward, the Prince and Count Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard, were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince dis couered to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daugh ter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and if hee found her accordant, hee meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly breake with you of it. Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? Old. A good sharpe fellow, I will send for him, and question him your selfe. Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it ap peare it selfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if per aduenture this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coo sins, you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mer cie friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill, good cosin haue a care this busie time. Exeunt. [Act 1, Scene 3] Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion. Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore the sadnesse is without limit. Con. You should heare reason. �Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing brin geth it? Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art, borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall me dicine, to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I am: I must bee sad when I haue cause, and smile at no mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no mans businesse, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humor. Con. Yea, but you must not make the ful show of this, till you may doe it without controllment, you haue of late [Page 104]Much adoe about Nothing. late stood out against your brother, and hee hath tane you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the faire weather that you make your selfe, it is needful that you frame the season for your owne haruest. Iohn. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a rose in his grace, and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of all, then to fashion a carriage to rob loue from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be denied but I am a plaine dealing villaine, I am trusted with a mussell, and enfranchisde with a clog, therefore I haue decreed, not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite: if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the meane time, let me be that I am, and seeke not to alter me. Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent? Iohn. I will make all vse of it, for I vse it onely. Who comes here? what newes Borachio? Enter Borachio. Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the Prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can giue you intelligence of an intended marriage. Iohn. Will it serue for any Modell to build mischiefe on? What is hee for a foole that betrothes himselfe to vnquietnesse? Bor. Mary it is your brothers right hand. Iohn. Who, the most exquisite Claudio? Bor. Euen he. Iohn. A proper squier, and who, and who, which way lookes he? Bor. Mary on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leo nato. Iohn. �A very forward March-chicke, how came you to this? Bor. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoa king a musty roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the Ar ras, and there heard it agreed vpon, that the Prince should wooe Hero for himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue her to Count Claudio. Iohn. Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food to my displeasure, that young start-vp hath all the glorie of my ouerthrow: if I can crosse him any way, I blesse my selfe euery way, you are both sure, and will assist mee? Conr. To the death my Lord. Iohn. Let vs to the great supper, their cheere is the greater that I am subdued, would the Cooke were of my minde: shall we goe proue whats to be done? Bor. Wee'll wait vpon your Lordship. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. [Act 2, Scene 1] 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 saies 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 Sig nior 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. Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that hath no beard. Beatrice. 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 ear nest 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.)SaintS. 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 curt sie, 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 met tall 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 an swere. Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too impor tant, tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, & repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a cinque-pace: 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 cinque pace faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue. Leonato. �[Page 105] Much adoe about Nothing. Leonato. 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 An thonio. 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. Vrsula. 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 Signi or 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 Par tridge 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 bea ring. 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 goe with me? Clau. Whither? Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own bu sinesse, Count. What fashion will you weare the Gar land 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? Ben [Page 106] Much adoe about Nothing. Bene. 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 be ing 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 been 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 an swered 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 im possible 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 em bassage 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 in dure 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 some thing 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 cor ner 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 mer ry, 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: co sins God giue you ioy. Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon. Exit Beatrice. 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 married, [Page 107]Much adoe about Nothing. married, they would talke themselues madde. 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 brea thing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Her cules 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 assi stance 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 Ar cher, his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely loue gods, goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift. Exit. [Act 2, Scene 2] Enter Iohn and Borachio. Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daugh ter of Leonato. �Bora. Yea my 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 gentle woman to Hero. Iohn. I remember. Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to looke out at her Ladies chamber window. Iohn. What life is in that, to be the death of this mar riage? 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 a ny 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 repu tation, who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarce ly 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 ducats. Bor. �Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cun ning shall not shame me. Iohn. I will presentlie goe learne their day of marri age. Exit. [Act 2, Scene 3] 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 afoot, to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dub let: he was wont to speake plaine, & to the purpose (like an honest man & a souldier) and now is he turn'd ortho graphy, 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 vertu ous, 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 ne uer 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, To[Page 108]Much adoe about Nothing. To slander Musicke any more then once. 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. The Song. Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceiuers euer, One foote in Sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant neuer, Then sigh not so, but let them goe, And be you blithe and bonnie, Conuerting all your sounds of woe, Into hey nony nony. Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, Of dumps so dull and heauy, The fraud of men were euer so, Since summer first was leauy, Then sigh not so, &c. 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 af ter 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. Exit Balthasar. 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 ne uer 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 affe ction, 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 counter feit of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she dis couers 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. Prince. 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 whitebearded 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 Bene dicke? 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. Prince. 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 virtuous. 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. Prince. �She doth well, if she should make tender of her loue, [Page 109]Much adoe about Nothing. loue, 'tis very possible hee'l scorne it, for the man (as you 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. Claud. 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 daugh ter, 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 ano ther's 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 requited: 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 ne uer 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 re prooue 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 took 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. Actus Tertius. [Act 3, Scene 1] Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrsula. Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour, There shalt thou finde my Cosin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio, Whisper her eare, and tell her I and Vrsula, Walke in the Orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs, And bid her steale into the pleached bower, Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne, Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites, Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride, Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her, To listen our purpose, this is thy office, Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone. �Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you presently. Hero. Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley vp and downe, Our talke must onely be of Benedicke, When I doe name him, let it be thy part, To praise him more then euer man did merit, My talke to thee must be how Benedicke Is sicke in loue with Beatrice; of this matter, Is little Cupids crafty arrow made, That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin, Enter Beatrice. For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs Close by the ground, to heare our conference. Vrs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden ores the siluer streame, And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite: So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now, Is couched in the wood-bine couerture, Feare you not my part of the Dialogue. Her. Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing, Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it: No truely Vrsula, she is too disdainfull, I know her spirits are as coy and wilde, As Haggerds of the rocke. Vrsula. But are you sure, That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely? Her. So saies the Prince, and my new trothed Lord. Vrs. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Her. They did intreate me to acquaint her of it, But I perswaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke, KTo[Page 110]Much adoe about Nothing. To wish him wrastle with affection, And neuer to let Beatrice know of it. Vrsula. Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman Deserue as full as fortunate a bed, As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon? Hero. O God of loue! I know he doth deserue, As much as may be yeelded to a man: But Nature neuer fram'd a womans heart, Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice: Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes, Mis-prizing what they looke on, and her wit Values it selfe so highly, that to her All matter else seemes weake: she cannot loue, Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection, Shee is so selfe indeared. Vrsula. Sure I thinke so, And therefore certainely it were not good She knew his loue, lest she make sport at it. Hero. �Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man, How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd. But she would spell him backward: if faire fac'd, She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister: If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke, Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed: If low, an agot very vildlie cut: If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes: If silent, why a blocke moued with none. So turnes she euery man the wrong side out, And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth. Vrsu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable, But who dare tell her so? if I should speake, She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit, Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire, Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly: It were a better death, to die with mockes, Which is as bad as die with tickling. Vrsu. Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say. Hero. No, rather I will goe to Benedicke, And counsaile him to fight against his passion, And truly Ile deuise some honest slanders, To staine my cosin with, one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking. Vrsu. O doe not doe your cosin such a wrong, She cannot be so much without true iudgement, Hauing so swift and excellent a wit As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse So rare a Gentleman as signior Benedicke. Hero. He is the onely man of Italy, Alwaies excepted, my deare Claudio. Vrsu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madame, Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedicke, For shape, for bearing argument and valour, Goes formost in report through Italy. Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name. Vrsu. His excellence did earne it ere he had it: When are you married Madame? Hero. Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in, Ile shew thee some attires, and haue thy counsell, Which is the best to furnish me to morrow. Vrsu. Shee's tane I warrant you, We haue caught her Madame? Hero. If it proue so, then louing goes by haps, Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps. �Exit. Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much? Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew, No glory liues behinde the backe of such. And Benedicke, loue on, I will requite thee, Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand: If thou dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee To binde our loues vp in a holy band. For others say thou dost deserue, and I Beleeue it better then reportingly. Exit. [Act 3, Scene 2] Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato. Prince. I doe but stay till your marriage be consum mate, and then go I toward Arragon. Clau. Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouch safe me. Prin. Nay, that would be as great a soyle in the new glosse of your marriage, as to shew a childe his new coat and forbid him to weare it, I will onely bee bold with Benedicke for his companie, for from the crowne of his head, to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hang-man dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinkes, his tongue speakes. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin. Leo. So say I, methinkes you are sadder. Claud. I hope he be in loue. Prin. Hang him truant, there's no true drop of bloud in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sad, he wants money. Bene. I haue the tooth-ach. Prin. Draw it. Bene. Hang it. Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. Prin. What? sigh for the tooth-ach. Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme. Bene. Well, euery one cannot master a griefe, but hee that has it. Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue. Prin. There is no appearance of fancie in him, vnlesse it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to bee a �Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: vnlesse hee haue a fancy to this foolery, as it appeares hee hath, hee is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it to appeare he is. Clau. If he be not in loue [with] some [woman], there is no beleeuing old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings, What should that bode? Prin. Hath any man seene him at the Barbers? Clau. No, but the Barbers man hath beene seen with him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath already stuft tennis balls. Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than hee did, by the losse of a beard. Prin. Nay a rubs himselfe [with] Ciuit, can you smell him out by that? Clau. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in loue. Prin. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. Clau. And [when] [was] he [wont] to [wash] his face? Prin. Yea, or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare [what] they say of him. Clau. Nay, but his iesting spirit, [which] is now crept into a lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops. Prince. [Page 111] Much adoe about Nothing. Prin. Indeed that tels a heauy tale for him: conclude, he is in loue. Clau. Nay, but I know who loues him. Prince. That would I know too, I warrant one that knowes him not. Cla. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him. Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards. Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old sig nior, walke aside with mee, I haue studied eight or nine wise words to speake to you, which these hobby-horses must not heare. Prin. For my life to breake with him about Beatrice. Clau. 'Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Beares will not bite one another when they meete. Enter Iohn the Bastard. �Bast. My Lord and brother, God saue you. Prin. Good den brother. Bast. If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you. Prince. In priuate? Bast. If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare, for what I would speake of, concernes him. Prin. What's the matter? Basta. Meanes your Lordship to be married to mor row? Prin. You know he does. Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know. Clau. If there be any impediment, I pray you disco uer it. Bast. You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will ma nifest, for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well, and in dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing marriage: surely sute ill spent, and labour ill bestowed. Prin. Why, what's the matter? Bastard. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shortned, (for she hath beene too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyall. Clau. Who Hero? Bast. Euen shee, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery mans Hero. Clau. Disloyall? Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wicked nesse, I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further war rant: goe but with mee to night, you shal see her cham ber window entred, euen the night before her wedding day, if you loue her, then to morrow wed her: But it would better fit your honour to change your minde. Claud. May this be so? Princ. I will not thinke it. Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not that you know: if you will follow mee, I will shew you enough, and when you haue seene more, & heard more, proceed accordingly. Clau. If I see any thing to night, why I should not �marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I shold wedde, there will I shame her. Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will ioyne with thee to disgrace her. Bast. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses, beare it coldly but till night, and let the issue shew it selfe. Prin. O day vntowardly turned! Claud. O mischiefe strangelie thwarting! Bastard. O plague right well preuented! so will you say, when you haue seene the sequele. Exit. [Act 3, Scene 3] Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the watch. Dog. Are you good men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer saluation body and soule. Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should haue any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Princes watch. Verges. Well, giue them their charge, neighbor Dogbery. Dog. First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man to be Constable? Watch. 1. Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coale, for they can write and reade. Dogb. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath blest you with a good name: to be a wel-fauoured man, is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by Nature. Watch 2. Both which Master Constable Dogb. You haue: I knew it would be your answere: well, for your fauour sir, why giue God thankes, & make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appeare when there is no need of such vanity, you are thought heere to be the most senslesse and fit man for the Constable of the watch: therefore beare you the lan thorne: this is your charge: You shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Prin ces name. Watch 2. How if a will not stand? Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thanke God you are ridde of a knaue. Verges. �If he will not stand when he is bidden, hee is none of the Princes subiects. Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Princes subiects: you shall also make no noise in the streetes: for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is most tollerable, and not to be indured. Watch. We will rather sleepe than talke, wee know what belongs to a Watch. Dog. Why you speake like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only haue a care that your bills be not stolne: well, you are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are drunke get them to bed. Watch. How if they will not? Dogb. Why then let them alone till they are sober, if they make you not then the better answere, you may say, they are not the men you tooke them for. Watch. Well sir. Dogb. If you meet a theefe, you may suspect him, by vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such kinde of men, the lesse you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty. Watch. If wee know him to be a thiefe, shall wee not lay hands on him. Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you doe take a theefe, is, to let him shew him selfe what he is, and steale out of your company. Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful (mđ)man partner. Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath anie honestie in him. K2Verges. [Page 112] Much adoe about Nothing. Verges. If you heare a child crie in the night you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. Watch. How if the nurse be asleepe and will not heare vs? Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the childe wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare her Lambe when it baes, will neuer answere a calfe when he bleates. Verges. 'Tis verie true. Dog. This is the end of the charge: you constable are to present the Princes owne person, if you meete the �Prince in the night, you may staie him. Verges. Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot. Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that knowes the Statutes, he may staie him, marrie not with out the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. Verges. Birladie I thinke it be so. Dog. Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and there be anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe your fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night, come neighbor. Watch. Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs go sit here vpon the Church bench till two, and then all to bed. Dog. One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding be ing there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night, adiew, be vigitant I beseech you. Exeunt. Enter Borachio and Conrade. Bor. What, Conrade? Watch. Peace, stir not. Bor. Conrade I say. Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow. Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would a scabbe follow. Con. I will owe thee an answere for that, and now forward with thy tale. Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it drissels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to thee. Watch. Some treason masters, yet stand close. Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a thousand Ducates. Con. Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare? Bor. Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible a nie villanie should be so rich? for when rich villains haue neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price they will. Con. I wonder at it. Bor. That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest �that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is no thing to a man. Con. Yes, it is apparel. Bor. I meane the fashion. Con. Yes the fashion is the fashion. Bor. Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but seest thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is? Watch. I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe, this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man: I remember his name. Bor. Did'st thou not heare some bodie? Con. No, 'twas the vaine on the house. Bor. Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hot blouds, betweene foureteene & fiue & thirtie, sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in the rechie painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the old Church window, sometime like the shauen Hercules in the smircht worm-eaten tapestrie, where his cod-peece seemes as massie as his club. Con. All this I see, and see that the fashion weares out more apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe giddie with the fashion too that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the name of Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris chamber[window], bids me a thousand times good night: I tell this tale vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince Claudio and my Master planted, and placed, and possessed by my Master Don Iohn, saw a far off in the Orchard this amiable incounter. Con. And thought thy MargaretNote:A line of ink runs through part of this word.was Hero? Bor. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and partly by his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the darke night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villa nie, which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn had made, away [went] Claudio enraged, swore hee [would] meete her as he was apointed next morning at the Tem ple, and there, before the whole congregation shame her with [what] he saw o're night, and send her home againe [without] a husband. Watch. 1. We charge you in the Princes name stand. Watch. 2. Call vp the right master Constable, [we] haue here recouered the most dangerous peece of lechery, that �euer [was] knowne in the Common-wealth. Watch. 1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, a [weares] a locke. Conr. Masters, masters. Watch. 2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I war rant you, Conr. Masters, neuer speake, [we] charge you, let vs o bey you to goe [with] vs. Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, be ing taken vp of these mens bils. Conr. A commoditie in question I warrant you, come [weele] obey you. Exeunt. [Act 3, Scene 4] Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula. Hero. Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and de sire her to rise. Vrsu. I will Lady. Her. And bid her come hither. Vrs. Well. Mar. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better. Bero. No pray thee good Meg, Ile [weare] this. Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I [warrant] your cosin [will] say so. Bero. My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile [weare] none but this. Mar. I like the new tire [within] excellently, if the haire [were] a thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion yfaith, I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines gowne that they praise so. Bero. O that exceedes they say.Note:An ink mark follows the end of this line. Mar. By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with pearles, downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vn derborn with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint grace full and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. Bero. God [Page 113] Much adoe about Nothing. Hero. God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding heauy. Marga. 'Twill be heauier soone, by the waight of a �man. Hero. Fie vpon thee, art not asham'd?Note:An ink mark follows the end of this line. Marg. Of what Lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I thinke you would haue me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: and bad thin king doe not wrest true speaking, Ile offend no body, is there any harme in the heauier for a husband? none I thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heauy, aske my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes. Enter Beatrice. Hero. Good morrow Coze. Beat. Good morrow sweet Hero. Hero. Why how now? do you speake in the sick tune? Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes. Mar. Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a burden,) do you sing it and Ile dance it. Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heeles, then if your husband haue stables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke no barnes. Mar. O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with my heeles. Beat. 'Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, 'tis time you were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho. Mar. For a hauke, a horse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no more sayling by the starre. Beat. What meanes the foole trow? Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their harts desire. Hero. These gloues the Count sent mee, they are an excellent perfume. Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell. Mar. A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching of colde. Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue you profest apprehension? Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become �me rarely? Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in your cap, by my troth I am sicke. Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm. Hero. There thou prickst her with a thissell. Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some mo rall in this benedictus. Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall mea ning, I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke per chance that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I am not such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I list not to thinke what I can, nor indeed, I cannot thinke, if I would thinke my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you will be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet Benedicke was such another, and now is he become a man, he swore hee would neuer marry, and yet now in despight of his heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with your eies as other women doe. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes. Mar. Not a false gallop. Enter Vrsula. Vrsula. Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, sig nior Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are come to fetch you to Church. Hero. Helpe me to dresse mee good coze, good Meg, good Vrsula. [Act 3, Scene 5] Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough. Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neigh bour? Const. Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence with you, that decernes you nearly. Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time with me. Const. Dog. Mary this it is sir. Headb. Yes in truth it is sir. Leon. What is it my good friends? Con. Do. Goodman Verges sir speakes a little of the matter, an old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as God helpe I would desire they were, but infaith honest as the skin betweene his browes. Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man li �uing, that is an old man, and no honester then I. Con. Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neigh bour Verges. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Con. Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poore Dukes officers, but truely for mine owne part, if I were as tedious as a King I could finde in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousnesse on me, ah? Const. Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Wor ship as of any man in the Citie, and though I bee but a poore man, I am glad to heare it. Head. And so am I. Leon. I would faine know what you haue to say. Head. Marry sir our watch to night, except [...]ng your worships presence, haue tane a couple of as arrant knaues as any in Messina. Con. Dog. A good old man sir, hee will be talking as they say, when the age is in the wit is out, God helpe vs, it is a world to see: well said yfaith neighbour Verges, well, God's a good man, and two men ride of a horse, one must ride behinde, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee wor shipt, all men are not alike, alas good neighbour. Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you. Con. Do. Gifts that God giues. Leon. I must leaue you. Con. Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeed comprehended two aspitious persons, & we would haue them this morning examined before your worship. Leon. Take their examination your selfe, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appeare vnto you. Const. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well. (Exit. Messenger. My Lord, they stay for you to giue your daughter to her husband. Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready. Dogb. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole: we are now to examine those men. �Verges. And we must doe it wisely. Dogb. Wee will spare for no witte I warrant you: K3 heeres [Page 114]Much adoe about Nothing. heere's that shall driue some to a non-come, on ly get the learned writer to set downe our excommuni cation, and meet me at the Iaile. Exeunt. Actus Quartus. [Act 4, Scene 1] Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero, and Beatrice. Leonato. Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine forme of marriage, and you shal recount their par ticular duties afterwards. Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady. Clau. No. Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to mar rie her. Frier. Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count. Hero. I doe. Frier. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your soules to vtter it. Claud. Know you anie, Hero? Hero. None my Lord. Frier. Know you anie, Count? Leon. I dare make his answer, None. Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! Bene. How now! interiections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he. Clau. Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue, Will you with free and vnconstrained soule Giue me this maid your daughter? Leon. As freely sonne as God did giue her me. Cla. And what haue I to giue you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? Prin. Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe. Clau. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes: �There Leonato, take her backe againe, Giue not this rotten Orenge to your friend, Shee's but the signe and semblance of her honour: Behold how like a maid she blushes heere! O what authoritie and shew of truth Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall! Comes not that bloud, as modest euidence, To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare All you that see her, that she were a maide, By these exterior shewes? But she is none: She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed: Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie. Leonato. What doe you meane, my Lord? Clau. Not to be married, Not to knit my soule to an approued wanton. Leon. Deere my Lord, if you in your owne [...]roofe, Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginitie. Clau. I know what you would say: if I haue knowne (her, You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sinne: No Leonato, I neuer tempted her with word too large, But as a brother to his sister, shewed Bashfull sinceritie and comely loue. Hero. And seem'd I euer otherwise to you? Clau. Out on thee seeming, I will write against it, You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe, As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne: But you are more intemperate in your blood, Than Venus, or those pampred animalls, That rage in sauage sensualitie. Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speake so wide? Leon. Sweete Prince, why speake not you? Prin. What should I speake? I stand dishonour'd that haue gone about, To linke my deare friend to a common stale. Leon. Are these things spoken, or doe I but dreame? Bast. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This lookes not like a nuptiall. Hero. True, O God! Clau. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother? Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne? Leon. All this is so, but what of this my Lord? Clau. �Let me but moue one question to your daugh (ter, And by that fatherly and kindly power, That you haue in her, bid her answer truly. Leo. I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe. Hero. O God defend me how am I beset, What kinde of catechizing call you this? Clau. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any iust reproach? Claud. Marry that can Hero, Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue. What man was he, talkt with you yesternight, Out at your window betwixt twelue and one? Now if you are a maid, answer to this. Hero. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord. Prince. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must heare: vpon mine honor, My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Count Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night, Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed most like a liberall villaine, Confest the vile encounters they haue had A thousand times in secret. Iohn. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord, Not to be spoken of, There is not chastitie enough in language, Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady I am sorry for thy much misgouernment. Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart? But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie, For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue, And on my eie-lids shall Coniecture hang, To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme, And neuer shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me? Beat. Why how now cosin, wherfore sink you down? Bast. Come, let vs go: these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits vp. Bene. How doth the Lady? Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vncle, Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier. Leonato. O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand, �Death is the fairest couer for her shame That may be wisht for. Beat. How [Page 115] Much adoe about Nothing. Beatr. How now cosin Hero? Fri. Haue comfort Ladie. Leon. Dost thou looke vp? Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing Cry shame vpon her? Could she heere denie The storie that is printed in her blood? Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger then thy shames, My selfe would on the reward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one? Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame? O one too much by thee: why had I one? Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies? Why had I not with charitable hand Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates, Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie, I might haue said, no part of it is mine: This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines, But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on mine so much, That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine: Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe, And salt too little, which may season giue To her foule tainted flesh. Ben. Sir, sir, be patient: for my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say. Bea. O on my soule my cosin is belied. Ben. Ladie, were you her bedfellow last night? Bea. No, truly: not although vntill last night, I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is stronger made Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron. Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie, Who lou'd her so, that speaking of her foulnesse, Wash'd it with teares? Hence from her, let her die. Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so long, and giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by no ting of the Ladie, I haue markt. A thousand blushing apparitions, To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames, In Angel whitenesse beare away those blushes, �And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire To burne the errors that these Princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a foole, Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations, Which with experimental seĂ le doth warrant The tenure of my booke: trust not my age, My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie, If this sweet Ladie lye not guiltlesse heere, Vnder some biting error. Leo. Friar, it cannot be: Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left, Is, that she wil not adde to her damnation, A sinne of periury, she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to couer with excuse, That which appeares in proper nakednesse? Fri. Ladie, what man is he you are accus'd of? Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know none: If I know more of any man aliue Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant, Let all my sinnes lacke mercy. O my Father, Proue you that any man with me conuerst, At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. Fri. There is some strange misprision in the Princes. Ben. Two of them haue the verie bent of honor, And if their wisedomes be misled in this: The practise of it liues in Iohn the bastard, Whose spirits toile in frame of villanies. Leo. I know not: if they speake but truth of her, These hands shall teare her: If they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall wel heare of it. Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine, Nor age so eate vp my inuention, Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall finde, awak'd in such a kinde, Both strength of limbe, and policie of minde, Ability in meanes, and choise of friends, To quit me of them thoroughly. Fri. Pause awhile: And let my counsell sway you in this case, Your daughter heere the Princesse (left for dead) Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead indeed: Maintaine a mourning ostentation, And on your Families old monument, Hang mournfull Epitaphes, and do all rites, That appertaine vnto a buriall. Leon. What shall become of this? What wil this do? Fri. Marry this wel carried, shall on her behalfe, Change slander to remorse, that is some good, �But not for that dreame I on this strange course, But on this trauaile looke for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Vpon the instant that she was accus'd, Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd Of euery hearer: for it so fals out, That what we haue, we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enioy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we racke the value, then we finde The vertue that possession would not shew vs Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio: When he shal heare she dyed vpon his words, Th'Idea of her life shal sweetly creepe Into his study of imagination. And euery louely Organ of her life, Shall come apparel'd in more precious habite: More mouing delicate, and ful of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soule Then when she liu'd indeed: then shal he mourne, If euer Loue had interest in his Liuer, And wish he had not so accused her: No, though he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not but successe Wil fashion the euent in better shape, Then I can lay it downe in likelihood. But if all ayme but this be leuelld false, The supposition of the Ladies death, Will quench the wonder of her infamie. And if it sort not well, you may conceale her As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusiue and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, mindes and iniuries. Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you, And though you know my inwardnesse and loue Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio. Yet[Page 116]Much adoe about Nothing. Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this, As secretly and iustlie, as your soule Should with your bodie. Leon. Being that I flow in greefe, The smallest twine may lead me. Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away, For to strange sores, strangely they straine the cure, Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding day Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure. Exit. Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept all this while? Beat. Yea, and I will weepe a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that. Beat. You haue no reason, I doe it freely. Bene. Surelie I do beleeue your fair cosin is wrong'd. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of mee �that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship? Beat. A verie euen way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man doe it? Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours. Bene. I doe loue 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 loued nothing so well as you, but beleeue me not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor I deny nothing, I am sorry for my cousin. Bene. By my sword Beatrice thou lou'st me. Beat. Doe not sweare by it and eat it. Bene. I will sweare by it that you loue mee, and I will make him eat it that sayes I loue not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word? Bene. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I pro test I loue thee. Beat. Why then God forgiue me. Bene. What offence sweet Beatrice? Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was a bout to protest I loued you. Bene. And doe it with all thy heart. Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. Bened. Come, bid me doe any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha, not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to denie, farewell. Bene. Tarrie sweet Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue in you, nay I pray you let me goe. Bene. Beatrice. Beat. Infaith I will goe. Bene. Wee'll be friends first. Beat. �You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight with mine enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine enemie? Beat. Is a not approued in the height a villaine, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! what, beare her in hand vntill they come to take hands, and then with publike accusation vncouered slander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketȑplace. Bene. Heare me Beatrice. Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper saying. Bene. Nay but Beatrice. Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is slandered, she is vndone. Bene. Beat? Beat. Princes and Counties! surelie a Princely testi monie, a goodly Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant sure lie, O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is mel ted into cursies, valour into complement, and men are onelie turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and sweares it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a wo man with grieuing. Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee. Beat. Vse it for my loue some other way then swea ring by it. Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero? Beat. Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule. Bene. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will kisse your hand, and so leaue you: by this hand Clau dio shall render me a deere account: as you heare of me, so thinke of me: goe comfort your coosin, I must say she is dead, and so farewell. [Act 4, Scene 2] Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes. Keeper. Is our whole dissembly appeard? Cowley. O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton. Sexton. Which be the malefactors? Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner. Cowley. �Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition to examine. Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be ex amined, let them come before master Constable. Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is your name, friend? Bor. Borachio. Kem. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra. Con. I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade. Kee. Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: mai sters, doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued already that you are little better than false knaues, and it will goe neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your selues? Con. Marry sir, we say we are none. Kemp. A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I will goe about with him: come you hither sirra, a word in your eare sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaues. Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none. Kemp. Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none? Sext. Master Constable, you goe not the way to ex amine, you must call forth the watch that are their ac cusers. Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch come forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name, accuse these men. Watch 1. This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes brother was a villaine. Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine. Bora. Master Constable. Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke I promise thee. Sexton. What heard you him say else? Watch 2. Mary that he had receiued a thousand Du kates of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrong fully. Kem. [Page 117] Much adoe about Nothing. Kemp. �Flat Burglarie as euer was committed. Const. Yea by th'masse that it is. Sexton. What else fellow? Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euer lasting redemption for this. Sexton. What else? Watch. This is all. Sexton. And this is more masters then you can deny, Prince Iohn is this morning secretly stolne away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died: Master Con stable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato, I will goe before, and shew him their examination. Const. Come, let them be opinion'd. Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe. Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them thou naughty varlet. Couley. Away, you are an asse, you are an asse. Kemp. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee downe an asse! but masters, remember that I am an asse: though it be not written down, yet forget not yt I am an asse: No thou villaine, yu art full of piety as shall be prou'd vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoul der, and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing hand some about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ downe an asse! Exit. Actus Quintus. [Act 5, Scene 1] Enter Leonato and his brother. Brother. If you goe on thus, you will kill your selfe, And 'tis not wisedome thus to second griefe, Against your selfe. Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsaile, Which falls into mine eares as profitlesse, As water in a siue: giue not me counsaile, Nor let no comfort delight mine eare, But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine. �Bring me a father that so lou'd his childe, Whose ioy of her is ouerȑwhelmed like mine, And bid him speake of patience, Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine, And let it answere euery straine for straine, As thus for thus, and such a griefe for such, In euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme: If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone, Patch griefe with prouerbs, make misfortune drunke, With candleȑwasters: bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience: But there is no such man, for brother, men Can counsaile, and speake comfort to that griefe, Which they themselues not feele, but tasting it, Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before, Would giue preceptiall medicine to rage, Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred, Charme ache with ayre, and agony with words, No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speake patience To those that wring vnder the load of sorrow: But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie To be so morall, when he shall endure The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile, My griefs cry lowder then aduertisement. Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ. Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and bloud, For there was neuer yet Philosopher, That could endure the toothȑake patiently, How euer they haue writ the stile of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance. Brother. Yet bend not all the harme vpon your selfe, Make those that doe offend you, suffer too. Leon. There thou speak'st reason, nay I will doe so, My soule doth tell me, Hero is belied, And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. Enter Prince and Claudio. Brot. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. Prin. Good den, good den. Clau. Good day to both of you. Leon. Heare you my Lords? Prin. We haue some haste Leonato. Leo. Some haste my Lord! wel, fareyouwel my Lord, Are you so hasty now? well, all is one. Prin. Nay, do not quarrel with vs, good old man. Brot. If he could rite himselfe with quarrelling, Some of vs would lie low. Claud. �Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry yu dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou: Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword, I feare thee not. Claud. Marry beshrew my hand, If it should giue your age such cause of feare, Infaith my hand meant nothing to my sword. Leonato. Tush, tush, man, neuer fleere and iest at me, I speake not like a dotard, nor a foole, As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge, What I haue done being yong, or what would doe, Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent childe and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reuerence by, And with grey haires and bruise of many daies, Doe challenge thee to triall of a man, I say thou hast belied mine innocent childe. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors: O in a tombe where neuer scandall slept, Saue this of hers, fram'd by thy villanie. Claud. My villany? Leonato. Thine Claudio, thine I say. Prin. You say not right old man. Leon. My Lord, my Lord, Ile proue it on his body if he dare, Despight his nice fence, and his actiue practise, His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood. Claud. Away, I will not haue to do with you. Leo. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child, If thou kilst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. Bro. He shall kill two of vs, and men indeed, But that's no matter, let him kill one first: Win[Page 118]Much adoe about Nothing. Win me and weare me, let him answere me, Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence, Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. Leon. Brother. Brot. Content your self, God knows I lou'd my neece, And she is dead, slander'd to death by villaines, That dare as well answer a man indeede, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boyes,apes, braggarts, Iackes, milkeȑsops. Leon. Brother Anthony. Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple, �Scambling, outȑfacing, fashionȑmonging boyes, That lye, and cog, and flout, depraue, and slander, Goe antiquely, and show outward hidiousnesse, And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst. And this is all. Leon. But brother Anthonie. Ant. Come, 'tis no matter, Do not you meddle, let me deale in this. Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience My heart is sorry for your daughters death: But on my honour she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proofe. Leon. My Lord, my Lord. Prin. I will not heare you. Enter Benedicke. Leo. No come brother, away, I will be heard. Exeunt ambo. Bro. And shall, or some of vs will smart for it. Prin. See, see, here comes the man we went to seeke. Clau. Now signior, what newes? Ben. Good day my Lord. Prin. Welcome signior, you are almost come to part almost a fray. Clau. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth. Prin. Leonato and his brother, what think'st thou? had wee fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for them. Ben. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came to seeke you both. Clau. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for we are high proofe melancholly, and would faine haue it beaten away, wilt thou vse thy wit? Ben. It is in my scabberd, shall I draw it? Prin. Doest thou weare thy wit by thy side? Clau. Neuer any did so, though verie many haue been beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as we do the min strels, draw to pleasure vs. Prin. As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou sicke, or angrie? Clau. �What, courage man: what though care kil'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. Ben. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and you charge it against me, I pray you chuse another sub iect. Clau. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was broke crosse. Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I thinke he be angrie indeede. Clau. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle. Ben. Shall I speake a word in your eare? Clau. God blesse me from a challenge. Ben. You are a villaine, I iest not, I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: do me right, or I will protest your cowardise: you haue kill'd a sweete Ladie, and her death shall fall heauie on you, let me heare from you. Clau. Well, I will meete you, so I may haue good cheare. Prin. What, a feast, a feast? Clau. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calues head and a Capon, the which if I doe not carue most cu riously, say my knife's naught, shall I not finde a wood cocke too? Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily. Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the o ther day: I said thou hadst a fine wit: true saies she, a fine little one: no said I, a great wit: right saies shee, a great grosse one: nay said I, a good wit: iust said she, it hurts no body: nay said I, the gentleman is wise: certaine said she, a wise gentleman: nay said I, he hath the tongues: that I beleeue said shee, for hee swore a thing to me on munday night, which he forswore on tuesday morning: there's a double tongue, there's two tongues: thus did shee an howre together transȑshape thy particular ver tues, yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the proprest man in Italie. Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said shee car'd not. Prin. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if shee did not hate him deadlie, shee would loue him dearely, the old mans daughter told vs all. Clau. All, all, and moreouer, God saw him [when] he was hid in the garden. Prin. But when shall we set the sauage Bulls hornes �on the sensible Benedicks head? Clau. Yea and text vnderȑneath, heere dwells Bene dicke the married man. Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will leaue you now to your gossepȑlike humor, you breake iests as braggards do their blades, which God be thank ed hurt not: my Lord, for your manie courtesies I thank you, I must discontinue your companie, your brother the Bastard is fled from Messina: you haue among you, kill'd a sweet and innocent Ladie: for my Lord Lackeȑ beard there, he and I shall meete, and till then peace be with him. Prin. He is in earnest. Clau. In most profound earnest, and Ile warrant you, for the loue of Beatrice. Prin. And hath challeng'd thee. Clau. Most sincerely. Prin. What a prettie thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaues off his wit. Enter Constable, Conrade, and Borachio. Clau. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to such a man. Prin. But soft you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and be sad, did he not say my brother was fled? Const. Come you sir, if iustice cannot tame you, shee shall nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to. Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Bo rachio one. Clau. Ha [...]ken after their offence my Lord. Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done? Con. Marrie [Page 119] Much adoe about Nothing. Const. Marrie sir, they haue committed false report, moreouer they haue spoken vntruths, secondarily they are slanders, sixt and lastly, they haue belyed a Ladie, thirdly, they haue verified vniust things, and to conclude they are lying knaues. Prin. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdlie I aske thee [what's] their offence, sixt and lastlie why they are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their charge. Clau. Rightlie reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and by my troth there's one meaning [well] suted. �Prin. Who haue you offended masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned Constable is too cunning to be vnderstood, [what's] your offence? Bor. Sweete Prince, let me go no farther to mine an swere: do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee: I haue deceiued euen your verie eies: [what] your wise domes could not discouer, these shallow fooles haue brought to light, [who] in the night ouerheard me con fessing to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed me to slander the Ladie Hero, how you were brought into the Orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Heroes garments, how you disgrace'd her [when] you should marrie her: my villanie they haue vpon record, [which] I had rather seale with my death, then repeate ouer to my shame: the Ladie is dead vpon mine and my masters false accusation: and briefelie, I desire nothing but the reward of a villaine. Prin. Runs not this speech like yron through your bloud? Clau. I haue drunke poison whiles he vtter'd it. Prin. But did my Brother set thee on to this? Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it. Prin. He is compos'd and fram'd of treacherie, And fled he is vpon this villanie. Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare In the rare semblance that I lou'd it first. Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time our Sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and masters, do not forget to specifie when time & place shall serue, that I am an Asse. Con. 2. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. Enter Leonato. Leon. Which is the villaine? let me see his eies, That when I note another man like him, I may auoide him: [which] of these is he? Bor. If you [would] know your wronger, looke on me. Leon. Art thou the slaue that with thy breath hast kild mine innocent childe? Bor. Yea, euen I alone. Leo. No, not so villaine, thou beliest thy selfe, Here stand a paire of honourable men, A third is fled that had a hand in it: I thanke you Princes for my daughters death, Record it with your high and worthie deedes, 'Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it. �Clau. I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speake, choose your reuenge your selfe, Impose me to what penance your inuention Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking. Prin. By my soule nor I, And yet to satisfie this good old man, I [...]ould bend vnder anie heauie [waight], That heele enioyne me to. Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue, That were impossible, but I praie you both, Possesse the people in Messina here, How innocent she died, and if your loue Can labour aught in sad inuention, Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb, And sing it to her bones, sing it to night: To morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my sonne in law, Be yet my Nephew: my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copie of my childe that's dead, And she alone is heire to both of vs, Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin, And so dies my reuenge. Clau. O noble sir! Your ouerkindnesse doth wring teares from me, I do embrace your offer, and dispose For henceforth of poore Claudio. Leon. To morrow then I will expect your comming, To night I take my leaue, this naughtie man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I beleeue was packt in all this wrong, Hired to it by your brother. Bor. No, by my soule she was not, Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But alwaies hath bin iust and vertuous, In anie thing that I do know by her. Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white and black, this plaintiffe here, the offendour did call mee asse, I beseech you let it be remembred in his punish ment, and also the [watch] heard them talke of one Defor med, they say he weares a key in his eare and a lock hang ing by it, and borrowes monie in Gods name, the which he hath vs'd so long, and neuer paied, that now men grow hardÑharted and will lend nothing for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point. Leon. I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines. Const. Your [worship] speakes like a most thankefull and reuerend youth, and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy paines. Const. God saue the foundation. �Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thanke thee. Const. I leaue an arrant knaue [with] your [worship], which I beseech your worship to correct your selfe, for the example of others: God keepe your [worship], I wish your worship [well], God restore you to health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart, and if a mer rie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come neighbour. Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell. Exeunt. Brot. Farewell my Lords, [we] looke for you to mor row. Prin. We will not faile. Clau. To night ile mourne with Hero: Leon. Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke [with] Margaret,How her acquaintance grew [with] this lewd fellow. Exeunt. [Act 5, Scene 2] Enter Benedicke and Margaret. Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue [well] at my hands, by helping mee to the speech of Bea trice. Mar. Will [Page 120] Much adoe about Nothing. Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my beautie? Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing shall come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deser uest it. Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I al waies keepe below staires? Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it catches. Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the bucklers. Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our owne. Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for �Maides. Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath legges. Exit Margarite. Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that sits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pitti full I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Lean der the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam car pet-mongers, whose name yet runne smoothly in the e uen rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so true ly turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: mar rie I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne, horne, a hard [rime]: for schoole foole, a babling [rime]: verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a ri ming Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes: Enter Beatrice. sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd thee? Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O stay but till then. Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with know ing what hath past betweene you and Claudio. Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse thee. Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, there fore I will depart vnkist. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sence, so forcible is thy wit, but I must tell thee plainely, Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must short ly heare from him, or I will subscribe him a coward, and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in loue with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politique a state of euill, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first suffer loue for me? Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue in deede, for I loue thee against my will. Beat. In spight of your heart I think, alas poore heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will neuer loue that which my friend hates. Bened. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peacea blie. Bea. It appeares not in this confession, there's not one �wise man among twentie that will praise himselfe. Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not erect in this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall liue no longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, & the Widdow weepes. Beat. And how long is that thinke you? Ben. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quar ter in rhewme, therfore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don worme (his conscience) finde no impediment to the contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my selfe so much for praising my selfe, who I my selfe will beare witnesse is praise worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin? Beat. Verie ill. Bene. And how doe you? Beat. Verie ill too. Enter Vrsula. Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaue you too, for here comes one in haste. Vrs. Madam, you must come to your Vncle, yon ders old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie He ro hath bin falselie accusde, the Prince and Claudio mightilie abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presentlie? Beat. Will you go heare this newes Signior? Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be bu ried in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to thy Vncles. Exeunt. [Act 5, Scene 3] Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers. Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato? Lord. It is my Lord. Epitaph. Done to death by slanderous tongues, Was the Hero that here lies: Death in guĂŠrdon of her wrongs, Giues her fame which neuer dies: So the life that dyed with shame, Liues in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there vpon the tombe, Praising her when I am dombe. Clau. Now musick sound & sing your solemn hymne Song. Pardon goddesse of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight, For the which with songs of woe, �Round about her tombe they goe: Midnight assist our mone, helpe vs to sigh and grone. Heauily, heauily. Graues yawne and yeelde your dead, Till death be vttered, Heauenly, heauenly. Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do (this right. Prin. Good morrow masters, put your Torches out, The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day Before the wheeles of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leaue vs, fare you well. Clau. Good morrow [masters], each his seuerall way. Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes, And then to Leonatoes we will goe. Clau. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Then[Page 121]Much adoe about Nothing. Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe. Exeunt. [Act 5, Scene 4] Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero. Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent? Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her, Vpon the errour that you heard debated: But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will as it appeares, In the true course of all the question. Old. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by your selues, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this howre To visit me, you know your office Brother, You must be father to your brothers daughter, And giue her to young Claudio. Exeunt Ladies. Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Frier, I must intreat your paines, I thinke. Frier. To doe what Signior? Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior, Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour. Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true. �Bene. And I doe with an eye of loue requite her. Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me, From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will? Bened. Your answer sir is Enigmaticall, But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conioyn'd, In the state of honourable marriage, In which (good Frier) I shall desire your helpe. Leon. My heart is with your liking. Frier. And my helpe. Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants. Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly. Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio: We heere attend you, are you yet determin'd, To day to marry with my brothers daughter? Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope. Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready. Prin. Good morrow [Benedicke], why what's the matter? That you haue such a Februarie face, So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse. Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull: Tush, feare not man, wee'll tip thy hornes with gold, And all Europa shall reioyce at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Ioue, When he would play the noble beast in loue. Ben. Bull Ioue sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your fathers Cow, A got a Calfe in that same noble feat, Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleat. Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula. Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings. Which is the Lady I must seize vpon? Leo. This same is she, and I doe giue you her. Cla. Why then she's mine, sweet let me see your face. Leon. No that you shal not, till you take her hand, Before this Frier, and sweare to marry her. Clau. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier, I am your husband if you like of me. Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife, And when you lou'd, you were my other husband. Clau. Another Hero? Hero. �Nothing certainer. One Hero died, but I doe liue, And surely as I liue, I am a maid. Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead. Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her slander liu'd. Frier. All this amazement can I qualifie, When after that the holy rites are ended, Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death: Meane time let wonder seeme familiar, And to the chappell let vs presently. Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that name, what is your will? Bene. Doe not you loue me? Beat. Why no, no more then reason. Bene. Why then your Vncle, and the Prince, & Clau dio, haue beene deceiued, they swore you did. Beat. Doe not you loue mee? Bene. Troth no, no more then reason. Beat. Why then my Cosin Margaret and Vrsula Are much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did. Bene. They swore you were almost sicke for me. Beat. They swore you were welȑnye dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me? Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence. Leon. Come Cosin, I am sure you loue the (gentlemđ)gentleman. Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her, For heres a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine, Fashioned to Beatrice. Hero. And heeres another, Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket, Containing her affection vnto Benedicke. Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our hearts: come I will haue thee, but by this light I take thee for pittie. Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I yeeld vpon great perswasion, & partly to saue your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption. Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth. Prin. �How dost thou Benedicke the married man? Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a Colledge of witteȑ crackers cannot flout mee out of my humour, dost thou think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man will be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome about him: in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will thinke nothing to any purpose that the world can say a gainst it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my con clusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vn bruis'd, and loue my cousin. Cla. I had well hop'd yu wouldst haue denied Beatrice, yt I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of (questiő)question thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues heeles. Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward. Bene. First, of my [word], therfore play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a [wife], get thee a [wife], there is no staff more reuerend then one tipt with horn. Enter. Mes. Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight, And brought with armed men backe to Messina. Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise thee braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers. Dance. L FINIS. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much adoe about Nothing (Első Fólió) Subject The topic of the resource Első Fólió kiadás szövege Description An account of the resource Az Első Fólió kiadás digitális, betűhív átirata. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Folger Digital Image Collection https://luna.folger.edu/luna/servlet/detail/FOLGERCM1~6~6~315128~125150:-Works--1623--Mr--William-Shakespea?sort=MPSORTORDER1%2CCall_Number%2CCD_Title%2CImprint&qvq=q:Call_Number%3D%22STC%2B22273%2BFo.1%2Bno.68%22%2BAND%2BSpecial_Instructions%3D%22Much%2BAdo%2BAbout%2BNothing%22%2B;sort:MPSORTORDER1%2CCall_Number%2CCD_Title%2CImprint;lc:FOLGERCM1~6~6&mi=0&trs=11 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Isaac Iaggard Edward Blount Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1623. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Fólió Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies Extent The size or duration of the resource. I3r (101.)-L1r (121.) Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. papír Zotero Author William Shakespeare Book Author William Shakespeare Artwork Medium Könyv Artwork Size Fólió Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1623. Edition Első Fólió First Page I3r (101.) Genre Komédia Language angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 21 Pages I3r (101.) - L1r (121.) Place London Publisher Isaac Iaggard Edward Blount Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. betűhív átirat digitális szöveg fólió komédia Sok hűhó semmiért