2 10 14 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 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/7fd104a772cd7f9bec81723d5e1a1145.pdf b1e0cef29169cd9257d681f927220f0d PDF Text Text Enter Leonato gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, with a messenger. Leonato. I Learne in this letter, that don Peter of Arragon comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very neare by this, he was not three leagues off when I left him. Leona. How many gentlemen haue you lost in this action? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. Leona. A victory is twice it selfe, when the atchiuer brings home ful numbers: I find here, that don Peter hath bestowed much honour on a yong Florentine called Claudio. Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred by don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion, he hath indeed better bettred expectation then you must expect of me to tell you how. Leo. He hath an vnckle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess. I haue already deliuered him letters, and there appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could not shew itselfe modest enough, without a badge of bitternesse. Leo. Did he breake out into teares? Mess. In great measure. Leo. A kind ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces truer then those that are so washt, how much better is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping? Beatr. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returnd from the warres or no? Messen. I know none of that name, ladie, there was none �such in the army of any sort. Leonato What is he that you aske for neece? Hero My cosen meanes Signior Benedicke of Padua. Mess. O hee's returnd, and as pleasant as euer he was. Bea. He set vp his bills here in Messina, and challengde Cupid at the Flight, and my vncles foole reading the chalenge subscribde for Cupid, and challengde him at the Burbolt: I pray you, how many hath he kild and eaten in these warres? but how many hath he kild? for indeede I promised to eate all of his killing. Leo. Faith neece you taxe Signior Benedicke too much, but heele be meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good seruice lady in these warres. Beat. You had musty vittaile, and he hath holpe to eate it, he is a very valiaunt trencher man, he hath an excellent stomacke. Mess. And a good souldier too, lady. Beat. And a good souldiour to a Lady, but what is he to a Lord? Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stufft with al honorable vertues. Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man, but for the stuffing wel, we are al mortall. Leo. You must not, sir, mistake my neece, there is a kind of mery warre betwixt Signior Benedicke and her, they neuer meet but there's a skirmish of wit betweene them. Beat. Alas he gets nothing by that, in our last conflict, 4 of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is the whole man gouernd with one, so that if he haue wit enough to keep himself warm, let him beare it for a difference between himself and his horse, for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasona- �ble creature, who is his companion now? he hath euery month a new sworne brother. Mess. Ist possible? Beat. Very easily possible, he weares his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with the next blocke. Mess. I see lady the gentleman is not in your bookes. Beat. No, and he were, I would burne my study, but I pray you who is his companion? is there no yong squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the diuell? Mess. He is most in the companie of the right noble Claudio. Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease, hee is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently madde, God help the noble Claudio, if he haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand pound ere a be cured. Mess. I will holde friends with you Ladie. Beat. Do good friend. Leon. You will neuer runne madde niece. Beat. No, not till a hote Ianuary. Mess. Don Pedro is approacht. Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar and Iohn the bastard. Pedro Good signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is, to auoyd cost, and you incounter it. Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house, in the likenesse of your grace, for trouble being gone, comfort should remaine: but when you depart from mee, sorrow abides, and happines takes his leaue. Pedro You embrace your charge too willingly: I thincke this is your daughter. �Leonato Her mother hath many times tolde me so. Bened. Were you in doubt sir that you askt her? Leonato Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a child. Pedro You haue it full Benedicke, wee may ghesse by this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her selfe: be happy Lady, for you are like an honourable father. Be. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not haue his head on her shoulders for all Messina as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedicke, no body markes you. Bene. What my deere lady Disdaine! are you yet liuing? Bea. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while she 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 turne-coate, but it is certaine I am loued of all Ladies, onelie 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 stil in that mind, 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 yours. Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer, but keep your way a Gods name, I haue done. �Beat. You alwayes end with a iades tricke, I knowe you of olde. Pedro That is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio, 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 detaine vs longer, I dare sweare he is no hypocrite, but praies from his heart. Leon. If you sweare, my lord, you shall not be forsworne, let mee bidde you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother: I owe you all duetie. Iohn I thanke you, I am not of many wordes, but I thanke you Leon. Please it your grace leade on? Pedro Your hand Leonato, we wil go together. Exeunt. Manent Benedicke & Claudio. Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of Signior (Leonato? Bene. I noted her not, but I lookte on her, Clau. Is she not a modest yong ladie? Bene. Do 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 sex? Claudio No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement. Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shees too low for a hie praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too litle for a great praise, onlie this commendation I can affoord her, that were shee other then she is, she were vnhansome, and being no other, but as she is, I do not like her. Claudio Thou thinkest I am in sport, I pray thee tell mee truelie how thou lik'st her. Bene. Would you buie her that you enquier after her? �Claudio Can the world buie such a iewel? Bene. Yea, and a case to putte 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 go in the song? Claudio In mine eie, shee is the sweetest Ladie that euer I lookt on. Bened. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: theres her cosin, and she were not possest with a fury, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first of Maie dooth the last of December: but I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you? Claudio I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had sworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife. Bened. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the worlde one man but he will weare his cappe with suspition? shall I neuer see a batcheller of three score againe? go 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. Pedro What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonatoes? Bene. I would your Grace would constraine me to tell. Pedro I charge thee on thy allegeance. Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumb man, I woulde haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance, marke you this, on my allegiance) he is in loue, with who? now that is your Graces part: marke how short his answer is, with Hero Leonatoes short daughter. Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred. Bened. Like the olde tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor twas �not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so. Claudio If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. Pedro Amen, if you loue her, for the Lady is very well worthy. Claudio You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord. Pedro By my troth I speake my thought. Claudio And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine. Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lorde, I spoke mine. Clau. That I loue her, I feele. Pedro That she is worthy, I know. Bened. That I neither feele how she should be loued, nor know how she should be worthie, is the opinion that fire can not melt out of me, I will die in it at the stake. Pedro Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight of Beauty. Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force of his wil. Bene. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that she brought me 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 mee: because I will not doe 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 go the finer,) I will liue a bacheller. Pedro I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue. Bene. With anger, with sickenesse, 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 eies �with a Ballad-makers penne, and hang me vp at the doore of a brothel house for the signe of blinde Cupid. Pedro Well, if euer thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prooue a notable argument. Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, and shoote at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and calld Adam. Pedro Well, as time shal 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 bulls hornes, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vildly painted, and in such great letters as they write, here is good horse to hyre: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may see Benedicke the married man. Claudio If this should euer happen, thou wouldst be horn madde. Pedro Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his quiuer in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. Bened. I looke for an earthquake too then. Pedro Well, you will temporize with the howres, in the meane time, good signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes, commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation. Bened. I haue almost matter enough in mee for suche 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 Benedicke. Bened. 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 flowt old ends any �further, examine your conscience, and so I leaue you. exit Claudio My liege, your Highnesse nowe 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, shees his onely heire: Doost thou affect her Claudio? Claudio O my lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I lookt vpon her with a souldiers eie, That likt, but had a rougher taske in hand, Than to driue liking to the name of loue: But now I am returnde, 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 likt 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 wil breake with hir, and with her father, 300And thou shalt haue her: wast not to this end, That thou beganst to twist so fine a storie? Clau. How sweetly you do minister to loue, That know loues griefe by his complexion! But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme, I would haue salude it with a longer treatise. Pedro What need the bridge much broder then the flood? �The fairest graunt is the necessitie: Looke what wil serue is fit: tis once, thou louest, And I wil fit thee with the remedie, I know we shall haue reuelling to night, I wil 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, she shal be thine, In practise let vs put it presently. exeunt. Enter Leonato and an old man brother to Leonato Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your sonne, hath he prouided this musique? Old He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell you strange newes that you yet dreampt not of. Leo. Are they good? Old As the euents stampes them, but they haue a good couer: they shew well outward, the prince and Count Claudio walking in a thicke pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much ouer-heard by a man of mine: the prince discouered to Claudio that he loued my niece your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a daunce, and if he found her accordant, he 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 sharp fellow, I wil send for him, and question him your selfe. �Leo. No, no, we wil hold it as a dreame til it appeare itself: but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that she may bee the better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture this be true: go you and tel hir of it: coosins, you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie friend, go you with me and I wil vse your shill: good cosin haue a care this busie time. exeunt. Enter sir Iohn the bastard, and Conrade his companion. Con. What the goodyeere my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? Iohn There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therfore the sadnesse is without limit. Con. You should heare reason. Iohn And when I haue heard it, what blessing brings it? Con If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance. Iohn I wonder that thou (being as thou saist, thou art, borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine, to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I haue cause, and smile at no mans iests, eate when I haue stomack, and wait for no mans leisure: sleep when I am drowsie, and tend on no mans businesse, laugh when I am mery, and claw no man in his humor. Con. Yea but you must not make the full show of this till you may do it without controllment, you haue of late stoode out against your brother, and he hath tane you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take true root, but by the faire weather that you make your self, 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 cariage to rob loue from any: in this (thogh I cannot �be said to be a flatering honest man) it must not be denied but I am a plain dealing villaine, I am trusted with a mussel, and enfraunchisde with a clogge, therfore 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 mean time, let me be that I am, and seeke not to alter me. Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent? Iohn I make all vse of it, for I vse it only, Who comes here? what newes Borachio? Enter Borachio. Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the prince your brother is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can giue you intelligence of an intended mariage. Iohn Wil it serue for any model to build mischiefe on? what is he for a foole that betrothes himselfe to vnquietnesse? Bor. Mary it is your bothers right hand. Iohn Who, the most exquisite Claudio? Bor. Euen he. Iohn A proper squier, and who, and who, which way looks he? Bor. Mary one Hero the daughter and heire of Leonato. Iohn A very forward March-chicke, how came you to this? Bor Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty roome, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt me behind the arras, and there heard it agreed vpon, that the prince should wooe Hero for himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue her to Counte Claudio. Iohn Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food to my displeasure, that yong start-vp hath all the glory of my ouer- �throw: if I can crosse him any way, I blesse my selfe euery way, you are both sure, and wil assist me. 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 a my mind, shall we go proue whats to be done? Bor. Weele wait vpon your lordship. exit. Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman. Leonato Was not counte Iohn here at supper? brother I saw him not. Beatrice How tartely that gentleman lookes, I neuer can see him but I am heart-burn'd an hower after. Hero He is of a very melancholy disposition. Beatrice He were an excellent man that were made iust in the mid-way between him and Benedick, the one is too like an image and saies nothing, and the other too like my ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling. Leonato Then halfe signior Benedickes tongue in Counte Iohns mouth, and halfe Counte Iohns melancholy in Signior Benedickes face. Beatrice With a good legge and a good foote vnckle, and money inough in his purse, such a man would winne any woman in the world if a could get her good will. Leonato By my troth neece thou wilt neuer get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. brother Infaith shees too curst. Beatrice Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods sending that way, for it is saide, God sends a curst cow short hornes, but to a cow too curst, he sends none. �Leonato So, by being too curst, God will send you no hornes. Beatrice 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 on a husband that hath no beard. Beatrice What should I do 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 he that is more then a youth, is not for me, and he that is lesse then a man, I am not for him, therefore I will euen take sixpence in earnest of the Berrord, and leade his apes into hell. Leonato Well then, go you into hell. Beatrice No but to the gate, and there will the diuell meete me like an old cuckold with hornes on his head, and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen, heeres no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my apes and away to saint Peter: for the heauens, he shewes me where the Batchellers sit, and there liue we as mery as the day is long. brother Well neece, I trust you will be rulde by your father. Beatrice Yes faith, it is my cosens duetie to make cursie and say, father, 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 til God make men of some other mettal then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouer-masterd with �a peece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none: Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truely I holde it a sinne to match in my kinred. Leonato Daughter, remember what I told you, if the prince do solicite you in that kind, you know your answer. Beatrice The fault will be in the musique cosin, if you be not wooed in good time: if the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in euery thing, and so daunce out the answer, for here me Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch ijgge, a measure, and a cinquepace: the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch ijgge (and ful as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest (as a measure) full of state and aunchentry, and then comes Repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, til he sincke into his graue. Leonato Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beatrice I haue a good eie vnckle, I can see a church by day-light. Leonato The reuellers are entring brother, make good roome. Enter prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthaser, or dumb Iohn. 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 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 fauour, for God defend the lute �should be like the case. Pedro My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house is Ioue. 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 many ill qualities. Bene. Which is one? Mar. I say my praiers alowd. Bene. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen. Marg. God match me with a good dauncer. Balth. Amen. Marg. And God keepe him out of my sight when the daunce is done: answer Clarke. Balth. No more words, the Clarke is answered. Vrsula I know you well enough, you are signior Anthonio. Antho. At a word I am not. Vrsula I knowe you by the wagling of your head. Antho. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Vrsula You coulde neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse you were the very man: heeres his drie hand vp and downe, you are he, you are he. Antho. At a word, I am not. Vrsula Come, come, do you thinke I do not know you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? go to, mumme, you are he, graces will appeere, and theres an end. Beat. Will you not tell me who tolde you so? Bened. No, you shall pardon me. Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? �Bened. Not now. Beat. That I was disdainefull, and that I had my good wit out of the hundred mery tales: wel, this was signior Benedick that said so. Bened. Whats he? Beat. I am sure you know him well enough. Bened. Not I, beleeue me. Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh? Bened. I pray you what is he? Beat. Why he is the princes ieaster, a very dul fool, only his gift is, in deuising impossible slaunders, none but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villanie, for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beate him: I am sure he is in the Fleete, I would he had boorded me. Bene. When I know the Gentleman, ile tell him what you say. Beat. Do, do, heele but break a comparison or two on me, which peraduẽture, (not markt, or not laught at) strikes him into melancholy, and then theres a partrige wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that night: wee must follow the leaders. Bene. In euery good thing. Beat. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them at the next turning. Dance exeunt Iohn Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the Ladies folow her, and but one visor remaines. Borachio And that is Claudio, I knowe him by his bearing. �Iohn Are not you signior Benedicke? Clau. You know me well, I am he. Iohn Signior, you are very neere my brother in his loue, he is enamourd on Hero, I pray you disswade him from her, she is no equall for his birth, you may doe the parte of an honest man in it. Claudio How know you he loues her? Iohn I heard him sweare his affection. Borac. So did I too, and he swore hee would marry her to night. Iohn Come let vs to the banquet. exeunt: manet Clau. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedicke, But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio: Tis certaine so, the Prince wooes 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 euery eie negotiate for it selfe, And trust no Agent: for Beauty is a witch, Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood: This is an accident of hourely proofe, Which I mistrusted not: farewel therefore Hero. Enter Bene( dicke Benedicke Count Claudio. Claudio Yea, the same. Bene. Come, will you go with me? Claudio Whither? Bene. Euen to the next willow, about your owne busines, county: what fashion will you weare the garland of? about �your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? or vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarffe? you must weare it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. Claudio I wish him ioy of her. Bened. Why thats spoken like an honest Drouier, so they sell bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince would haue serued you thus? Claudio I pray you leaue me. Benedicke Ho now you strike like the blindman, twas the boy that stole your meate, and youle beate the post. Claudio If it will not be, ile leaue you. exit Benedicke Alas poore hurt foule, now will hee creepe into sedges: but that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, and not know mee: the princes foole! hah, it may be I goe vnder that title because I am merry: yea but so I am apte to doe my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, ile be reuenged as I may. Enter the Prince, Hero, Leonato, Iohn and Borachio, and Conrade. Pedro Now signior, wheres the Counte, did you see him? Benedicke Troth my lord, I haue played the part of Ladie Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren, I tolde him, and I thinke I tolde him true, that your grace had got the goodwil of this yoong Lady, and I offred him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him vp a rod, as being worthie to bee whipt. Pedro To be whipt, whats his fault? Benedicke The flatte 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. Benedicke Yet it had not beene amisse the rodde had beene made, & the garland too, for the garland he might haue worn himselfe, and the rodde he might haue bestowed on you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest. Pedro I wil but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. Benedicke If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say honestly. Pedro The ladie Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much wrongd by you. Bened. O shee misusde me past the indurance of a blocke: an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered her: my very visor beganne to assume life, and scold with her: she tolde me, not thinking I had beene my selfe, that I was the Princes iester, that I was duller than a great thawe, huddleing iest vpon iest, with such impossible conueiance vpon me, that I stoode like a man at a marke, with a whole army shooting at me: she speakes poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no liuing neere her, shee would infect to the north starre: I woulde not marry her, though shee were indowed with al 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 find her the infernall Ate in good apparell, I would to God some scholler woulde coniure her, for certainely, while she is heere, a man may liue �as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuarie, and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe thither, so indeede all disquiet, horrour, and perturbation followes her. Enter Claudio and Beatrice. Pedro Looke heere she comes. Benedicke Will your grace command me any seruice to the worldes end? I will go on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send mee 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 haire off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than holde three words conference, with this harpy, you haue no imployment for me? Pedro None, but to desire your good company. Benedicke O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure my Ladie Tongue. exit. Pedro Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of signior Benedicke. Beatrice Indeed my Lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gaue him vse for it, a double heart for his single one, mary once before he wonne it of me, 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. Beatrice So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought Counte Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke. Pedro Why how now Counte, wherefore are you sad? Claudio Not sad my Lord. Pedro How then? sicke? �Claudio Neither, my Lord. Beatrice The Counte is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry, nor well: but ciuill Counte, ciuil as an orange, and something of that iealous complexion. Pedro Ifaith Lady, I think your blazon to be true, though ile be sworne, if he 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. Leonato Counte take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it. Beatrice Speake Counte, tis your Qu. Claudio 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 doate 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 her heart Clau. And so she doth coosin. Beat. Good Lord for aliance: thus goes euery one to the world but I, and I am sun-burnt, I may sit in a corner and crie, 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 maide coulde come by them. Prince Will you haue me? lady. Beatr. No my lord, vnles I might haue another for working-daies, your grace is too costly to weare euery day: but I beseech your grace pardon me, I was born to speake all mirth, and no matter. Prince Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes you, for out a question, you were borne in a merry hower. Beatr. No sure my lord, my mother cried, but then there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne, cosins God giue you ioy. Leonato Neece, will you looke to those things I tolde you of? Beat I crie you mercy vncle, by your graces pardon. exit Beatrice. Prince By my troth a pleasant spirited lady. Leon. Theres little of the melancholy element in her my lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleeps, & not euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath often dreampt of vnhappines, and wakt her selfe with laughing. Pedro She cannot indure to heare tell of a husband. Leonato O by no meanes, she mockes al her wooers out of sute. Prince She were an excellent wife for Benedick. Leonato O Lord, my lord, if they were but a weeke married, they would talke themselues madde. Prince Countie Claudio, when meane you to goe to church? Clau. To morow my lord, Time goes on crutches, til Loue haue all his rites. �Leonato Not til monday, my deare sonne, which is hence a iust seuennight, and a time too briefe too, to haue al things answer my mind. Prince Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not go dully by vs, I wil in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th'one with th'other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall giue you direction. Leonato My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings. Claud. And I my Lord. Prince And you too gentle Hero? Hero I wil do any modest office, my lord, to help my cosin to a good husband. Prince And Benedicke is not the vnhopefullest husband that I know: thus farre can I praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approoued valour, and confirmde honesty, I will teach you how to humour your cosin, that she shall fal in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, wil so practise on Benedicke, that in dispight of his quicke wit, and his queasie stomacke, he shall fall in loue with Beatrice: if we can do this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall bee ours, for we are the onely loue-gods, goe in with mee, and I will tell you my drift. exit. Enter Iohn and Borachio. Iohn It is so, the Counte Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. Bora. Yea my lord, but I can crosse it. �Iohn Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be medcinable 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 briefely how. Bor. I thinke I told your lordship a yeere since, how much I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. Iohn I remember. Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to looke out at her ladies chamber window. Iohn What life is in that to be the death of this mariage? Bor. The poison of that lies in you to temper, goe 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 vp, to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. Iohn What proofe shall I make of that? Bor. Proofe enough, to misuse the prince, to vexe Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any other issue? Iohn Onely to dispight them I will endeuour any thing. Bor. Go then, find me a meet houre, to draw don Pedro and the Counte Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero loues me, intend a kind of zeale both to the prince & Claudio (as in loue of your brothers honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation, who is thus like to bee cosen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they wil scarcely beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which �shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see me at her chamber window, heare me call Margaret Hero, heare Marg. terme me Claudio, & bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the mean time, I wil so fashion the matter, that Hero shal be absent and there shal appeere such seeming truth of Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shal be cald assurance, and al the preparation ouerthrowne. Iohn Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will put it in practise: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducates. Bor. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. Iohn I will presently go learne their day of marriage. exit Enter Benedicke alone. Bene. Boy. Boy Signior. Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. I am here already sir. exit. Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence and here againe. I do much wonder, that one man seeing how much an other man is a foole, when he dedicates his behauiours to loue, wil after he hath laught at such shallow follies in others, becom the argument of his owne scorne, by falling in loue, and such a man is Claudio, I haue knowne when there was no musique with him but the drumme and the fife, and now had he rather heare the taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armour, and now wil he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet: he �was woont to speake plaine, and to the purpose (like an honest man and a souldier) and now is he turnd ortography, his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted and see with these eies? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I wil not be sworne but loue may transforme me to an oyster, but ile take my oath on it, till he haue made and oyster of me, he shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is faire, yet I am well, an other is wise, yet I am well: an other vertuous, yet I am wel: but till all graces be in one woman, one womã shal not com in my grace: rich she shal be thats certain, wise, or ile none, vertuous, or ile neuer cheapen her: faire, or ile neuer looke on her, mild, or come not neare me, noble, or not I for an angell, of good discourse, an excellent musitian, and her haire shall be of what colour it please God. hah! the prince and monsieur Loue, I wil hide me in the arbor. Enter prince, Leonato, Claudio, Musicke. Prince Come shall we heare this musique? Claud. Yea my good lord: how stil the euening is, As husht on purpose to grace harmonie! Prince See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe? Claud. O very wel my lord: the musique ended, Weele fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth. Enter Balthaser with musicke. Prince Come Balthaser, weele heare that song againe. Balth. O good my lord, taxe not so bad a voice, To slaunder 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 wooe no more. Balth. Because you talke of wooing I will sing, Since many a wooer doth commence his sute, �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, Do it in notes. Balth. Note this before my notes, Theres not a note of mine thats worth the noting. Prince Why these are very crotchets that he speakes, 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 mony when alls 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 go, And be you blith and bonnie, Conuerting all your soundes of woe, Into hey nony nony. Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, Of dumps so dull and heauy, The fraud of men was 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 wel enough for a shift. Ben. And he had bin a dog that should haue howld thus, they would haue hangd him, and I pray God his bad voice �bode no mischeefe, I had as liue haue heard the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after it. Prince Yea mary, doost thou heare Balthasar? I pray thee get vs some excellent musique: for to morow night we would haue it at the ladie Heroes chamber window. Balth. The best I can my lord. Exit Balthasar. Prince Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told mee of to day, that your niece Beatrice was in loue with signior Benedicke? Cla. O I, stalke on, stalk on, the foule sits. I did neuer think that lady would haue loued any man. Leo. No nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she should so dote on signior Benedicke, whome she hath in all outward behauiors seemd euer to abhorre. Bene. Ist possible? sits the wind in that corner? Leo. By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. Prince May be she doth but counterfeit. Claud. Faith like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of passion, came so neare the life of passion as she discouers it. Prince Why what effects of passion shewes she? Claud. Baite the hooke wel, this fish will bite. Leon. What effects my Lord? she wil sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. Claud. She did indeede. Prince How, how I pray you! you amaze me, I would haue thought her spirite had beene inuincible against all assaults of affection. �Leo. I would haue sworn it had, my lord, especially against Benedicke. Bene. I should think this a gull, but that the white bearded fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide himself in such reuerence. Claud. He hath tane th'infection, hold it vp. Prince Hath shee made her affection knowne to Benedicke? Leonato No, and sweares shee neuer will, thats her torment. Claudio 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 she now when she is beginning to write to him, for sheel be vp twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smocke, til she haue writ a sheete of paper: my daughter tels vs all. Clau. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a prety iest your daughter told of vs. Leonato O when she had writ it, and was reading it ouer, she found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete. Claudio 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 she knew would flout her, I measure him, saies she, by my own spirit, for I should flout him, if he writ to me, yea thogh I loue him I should. Clau. Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes, sobs, beates her heart, teares her haire, prayes, curses, O sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience. Leonato She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the ex- �tasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard shee 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. Claudio To what end: he would make but a sport of it, and torment the poore Lady worse. Prince And he should, it were an almes to hang him, shees an excellent sweete lady, and (out of all suspition,) she is vertuous. Claudio And she is exceeding wise. Prince In euery thing but in louing Benedicke. Leonato O my Lord, wisedome and blood combating in so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath the victory, I am sory for her, as I haue iust cause, beeing her vncle, and her gardian. Prince I would shee had bestowed this dotage on mee, I would haue daft all other respects, and made her halfe my self: I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare what a will say. Leonato Were it good thinke you? Claudio Hero thinkes surely she will die, for she sayes shee will die, if he loue her not, and shee will die ere shee make her loue knowne, and she will die if he wooe her, rather than shee will bate one breath of her accustomed crosnesse. Prince She doth well, if shee shoulde make tender of her loue, tis very possible heele scorne it, for the man (as you know all) hath a contemptible spirite. Claudio He is a very proper man. Prince He hath indeede a good outward happines. Claudio Before God, and in my mind, very wise. Prince Hee dooth indeede shew some sparkes that are like �wit. Claudio And I take him to be valiant. Prince As Hector, I assure you, and in the mannaging of quarrels you may say he is wise, for either hee auoydes them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a most christianlike feare. Leonato If he do feare God, a must necessarily keep peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrel with feare and trembling. Prince And so will hee doe, for the man doth feare God, howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large iestes hee will make: well I am sory for your niece, shall we go seeke Benedicke, and tell him of her loue? Claudio Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with good counsell. Leonato Nay thats impossible, shee may weare her heart out first. Prince Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter, let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke wel, and I could wish he would modestly examine himselfe, to see how much he is vnworthy so good a lady. Leonato My lord, will you walke? dinner is ready. Claudio If he do not doate on her vppon this, I will neuer trust my expectation. Prince Let there be the same nette spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry: the sporte will be, when they holde one an opinion of an others dotage, and no such matter, thats the scene that I woulde see, which wil be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs send her to call him in to dinner. Benedicke This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly �borne, they haue the trueth of this from Hero, they seeme to pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue their full bent: loue me? why it must be requited: I heare how I am censurde, they say I will beare my selfe prowdly, if I perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she will rather die than giue anie signe of affection: I did neuer thinke to marry, I must not seeme prowd, happy are they that heare their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say the Lady is faire, tis a trueth, I can beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her follie, for I will be horribly in loue with her, I may chaunce haue some odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken on me, because I haue railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meate in his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quippes and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the carreere of his humor? No, the world must be peopled. When I saide I woulde die a batcheller, I did not think I should liue til I were married, here comes Beatrice: by this day, shees a faire lady, I doe spie some markes of loue in her. Enter Beatrice. Beatr. Aganst my will 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 bin painful I would not haue come. Bene. You take pleasure then in the message. Beat. Yea iust so much as you may take vppon a kniues point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomach signior, �fare you well. exit. Bene. Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner: theres a double meaning in that: I took no more paines for those thanks thẽ you took pains to thank me, thats as much as to say, any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks: if I do not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I do not loue her I am a Iew, I will go get her picture, exit. Enter Hero and two Gentlewomen, Margaret, and Vrsley. Hero Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour, There shalt thou find my cosin Beatrice, Proposing with the prince and Claudio, Whisper her eare and tell her I and Vrsley, 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 bowere Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne, Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites, Made proud by princes, that aduaunce their pride, Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her, To listen our propose, 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 do name him let it be thy part, To praise him more than euer man did merite, 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, For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs Close by the ground, to heare our conference. Enter Beatrice. Vrsula The pleasantst 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. Hero Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing, Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it: No truly Vrsula, she is too disdainfull, I know her spirits are as coy and wild, As haggerds of the rocke. Vrsula But are you sure, That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely? Hero So saies the prince, and my new trothed Lord. Vrsula And did they bid you tel her of it, madame? Hero They did intreate me to acquaint her of it, But I perswaded them, if they lou'de Benedicke, To wish him wrastle with affection, And neuer to let Beatrice know of it. Vrsula Why did you so, dooth 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 framde a womans hart, Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice: �Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eies, Misprising what they looke on, and her wit Valewes it selfe so highly, that to her All matter els seemes weake: she cannot loue, Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection, She is so selfe indeared. Vrsula Sure I thinke so, And therefore certainely it were not good, She knew his loue lest sheele make sport at it. Hero Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man, How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featured. But she would spel him backward: if faire faced, She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister: If blacke, why Nature drawing of an antique, Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed: If low, an agot very vildly cut: If speaking, why a vane blowne with all winds: 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 merite purchaseth. Vrsula 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 couerd fire, Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly: It were a better death, then die with mockes, Which is as bad as die with tickling. �Vrsula Yet tel her of it, heare what she wil say. Hero No rather I will go to Benedicke, And counsaile him to fight against his passion, And truly ile deuise some honest slaunders, To staine my cosin with, one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking. Vrsula O do not do 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 Vrsula 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. Vrsula His excellence did earne it, ere he had it: When are you married madame? Hero Why euery day to morrow, come go in, Ile shew thee some attyres, and haue thy counsaile, Which is the best to furnish me to morrow. Vrsula Shees limed 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. Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much? Contempt, farewel, and maiden pride, adew, No glory liues behind the backe of such. �And Benedicke, loue on I will requite thee, Taming my wild heart to thy louing hand: If thou dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee To bind our loues vp in a holy band. For others say thou dost deserue, and I Beleeue it better then reportingly. exit. Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato. Prince I doe but stay til your mariage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. Ile bring you thither my lord, if youle vouchsafe me. Prince Nay that would be as great a soyle in the new glosse of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coate and forbid him to weare it, I wil only be bold with Benedick for his company, for from the crowne of his head, to the sole of his foot, he is al mirth, he hath twice or thrice cut Cupides 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, me thinkes you are sadder. Clau. I hope he be in loue. Prince Hang him truant, theres no true drop of bloud in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sadde, he wantes money. Bene. I haue the tooth-ach. Prince Draw it. Bene. Hang it. Clau. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. Prince What? sigh for the tooth-ach. �Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme. Bene. Wel, euery one cannot master a griefe, but he that has it. Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue. Prince There is no appeerance of fancie in him, vnlesse it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutchman to day, a French-man to morrow, or in the shape of two countries at once, as a Germaine from the waste downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip vpward, no dublet: vnlesse he haue a fancie to this foolery, as it appeares he hath, he is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it 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? Prince Hath any man seene him at the Barbers? Clau. No, but the barbers man hath bin seene with him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath already stufft tennis balls. Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than he did, by the losse of a beard. Prince Nay a rubs himselfe with ciuit, can you smell him out by that? Claud. Thats as much as to say, the sweete youthe's in loue. Bene. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. Claud. And when was he woont to wash his face? Prince Yea or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare what they say of him. Claud. Nay but his iesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string, and now gouernd by stops. �Prince Indeed that tells a heauy tale for him: conclude, conclude, he is in loue. Claud. Nay but I know who loues him. Prince That would I know too, I warrant one that knows him not. Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in dispight of al, dies for him. Prince She shall be buried with her face vpwards. Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old signior, walke aside with me, I haue studied eight or nine wise wordes to speake to you, which these hobby-horses must not heare. Prince For my life to breake with him about Beatrice. Claud. 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. Bastard My lord and brother, God saue you. Prince Good den brother. Bastard If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you. Prince In priuate? Bastard If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare, for what I would speake of, concernes him. Prince Whats the matter? Bast. Meanes your Lordship to be married to morrow? Prince You know he does. Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer it. Bast. You may think I loue you not, let that appeare hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will manifest, for my brother (I thinke, he holdes you well, and in dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing mariage: surely sute ill �spent, and labor ill bestowed. Prince Why whats the matter? Bast. I came hither to tel you, and circumstances shortned, (for she has bin too long a talking of) the lady is disloyall. Clau. Who Hero? Bastar. Euen she, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery mans Hero. Clau. Disloyall? Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse, I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse title, and I wil fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant: go but with me to night you shall see her chamber window entred, euen the night before her wedding day, if you loue her, then to morow wed her: But it would better fitte your honour to change your mind. Claud. May this be so? Prince I wil not thinke it. Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not that you knowe: if you will follow mee, I will shew you enough, and when you haue seene more, and heard more, proceede accordingly. Claudio If I see anie thing to night, why I should not marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. Prince And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I wil ioyne with thee, to disgrace her. Bastard I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses, beare it coldely but till midnight, and let the issue shew it selfe. Prince O day vntowardly turned! Claud. O mischiefe strangely thwarting! �Bastard O plague right well preuented! so will you say, when you haue seene the sequele. Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the Watch. Dog. Are you good men and true? Verges Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer saluation body and soule. Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should haue any allegeance in them, being chosen for the Princes watch. Verges Well, giue them their charge, neighbour Dogbery. Dogbery First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man to be Constable? Watch 1 Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-cole, for they can write and reade. Dogbery Come hither neighbor Sea-cole. God hath blest you with a good name: to be a welfauoured man, is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by nature. Watch 2 Both which maister Constable. Dogbery You haue: I knew it would be your answer: wel, for your fauour sir, why giue God thanks, and make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appeere when there is no neede 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 lanthorne: this is your charge, You shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bidde any man stand, in the Princes name. Watch 2 How if a will not stand? Dogbery Why then take no note of him, but let him goe, and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thanke god you are ridde of a knaue. �Verges If he wil not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Princes subiects. Dogbery 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 to talke, is most tollerable, and not to be indured. Watch We will rather sleepe than talke, we know what belongs to a watch. Dogbery Why you speake like an antient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: onely haue a care that your billes bee not stolne: well, you are to cal at al the alehouses, and bid those that are drunke get them to bed. Watch How if they will not? Dogbery Why then let them alone til they are sober, if they make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not the men you tooke them for. Watch Well sir. Dogbery If you meete a thiefe, you may suspect him, by vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such kind of men, the lesse you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty. Watch If we know him to be a thiefe, shal we not lay hands on him? 1385Dogbery Truely by your office you may, but I thinke they that touch pitch will be defilde: the most peaceable way for you, if you doe take a thiefe, is, to let him shew himselfe what he is, and steale out of your companie. Verges You haue beene alwayes called a mercifull manne, partner. Dog. Truely I would not hang a dogge by my will, much �more a man who hath anie honestie in him. Verges If you heare a child crie in the night you must call to the nurse and bid her stil it. Watch How if the nurse be asleepe and will not heare vs. Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare her lamb when it baes, will neuer answer a calfe when he bleates. Verges Tis very 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 stay him. Verges Nay birlady that I thinke a cannot. Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with any man that knowes the statutes, he may stay him, mary 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 thinke it be so. Dog. Ha ah ha, wel masters good night, and there be any matter of weight chaunces, cal vp me, keepe your fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night, come neighbour. Watch Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs goe sitte here vppon the church bench till twoo, and then all to bed. Dog. One word more, honest neighbors, I pray you watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being 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 answer for that, and now forward with thy tale. Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it drissells raine, and I will, like a true drunckard, vtter all to thee. Watch Some treason masters, yet stand close. Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Dun Iohn a thousand ducates. Con. Is it possible that any villanie should be so deare? Bor. Thou shouldst rather aske if it were possible any villanie shuld be so rich? for when rich villains haue need of poor 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 dublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing to a man. Con. Yes it is apparell. 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 vij. yeere, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man: I remember his name. Bor. Didst thou not heare some body? Con. No, twas the vane 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, between foureteene and fiue and 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 tapestry, where his cod-peece seemes as massie as his club. Con. Al this I see, and I see that the fashion weares out more apparrell then the man, but art not thou thy selfe giddy 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 tel thee how the prince Claudio and my master planted, and placed, and possessed, by my master Don Iohn, saw a farre off in the orchard this amiable incounter. Conr. And thought they Margaret was Hero? Bar. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio, but the diuel my master knew she was Margaret, and partly by his oths, which first possest them, partly by the darke night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villany, which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn had made, away went Claudio enragde, swore he would meet her as he was apointed next morning at the Temple, 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 vppe the right maister Constable, wee haue here recouerd 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 warrant you. Conr Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey you to go with vs. Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being taken vp of these mens billes. Conr. A commodity in question I warrant you, come weele obey you. exeunt. Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula. Hero Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. Vrsula I wil lady. Hero And bid her come hither. Vrsula Well. Marg. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better. Hero No pray thee good Meg, ile weare this. Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your cosin will say so. Hero My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile weare none but this. Mar I like the new tire within excelently, 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. Hero O that exceedes they say. Marg. By my troth's but a night-gown it respect of yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with pearles, �downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vnderborne with a blewish tinsell, but for a fine queint graceful and excelent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. Hero God giue me ioy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding heauy. Marg. T'will be heauier soone by the weight of a man. Hero Fie vpon thee, art not ashamed? Marg. Of what lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without mariage? I thinke you would haue me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: & bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, ile offend no body, is there any harm 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 els, here she comes. Enter Beatrice. Hero Good morrow coze. Beat. Good morrow sweete Hero. Hero Why how now? do you speake in the sicke tune? Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes. Mar Clap's into Light a loue, (that goes without a burden,) do you sing it, and ile daunce it. Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heels, then if your husband haue stables enough youle see 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 al, H. �Mar. Wel, and you be not turnde Turke, theres no more sayling by the starre. Beat. What meanes the foole trow? Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their hearts desire. Hero These gloues the Counte sent me, they are an excellent perfume. Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell. Mar. A maide and stuft! theres goodly catching of colde. Beat. O God help 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 qualme. Hero There thou prickst her with a thissel. Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some moral in this benedictus. Mar. Morall? no by my troth I haue no morall meaning, I meant plaine holy thissel, you may thinke perchaunce that I think you are in loue, nay birlady I am not such a foole to think what I list, nor I list not to thinke what I can, nor indeed I can not think, if I would thinke my heart 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 he would neuer marry, and yet now in dispight of his heart he eates his meate without grudging, and how you may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with �your eies as other women do. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes? Marg. Not a false gallop. Enter Vrsula. Vrsula Madame withdraw, the prince, the Count, signior Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are come to fetch you to church. Hero Help to dresse me good coze, good Meg, good Vrsula. Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough. Leonato What would you with me, honest neighbour? Const. Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence with you, that decernes you nearely. Leonato 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. Leonato What is it my good friends? Con. Do. Goodman Verges sir speaks a little of the matter, an old man sir, and his wittes are not so blunt, as God helpe I would desire they were, but infaith honest, as the skin between his browes. Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing, that is an old man, and no honester then I. Const. Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges. Leonato Neighbors, you are tedious. Const. Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poore Dukes officers, but truly for mine owne part, if I were as tedious as a King I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. �Leonato Al thy tediousnesse on me, ah? Const. Dog. Yea, and't twere a thousand pound more than tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your worshippe as of any man in the citie, and though I be but a poore man, I am glad to heare it. Head. And so am I. Leonato I would faine know what you haue to say. Head. Mary sir our watch to night, excepting your worships presence, ha tane a couple of as arrant knaues as any in Messina. Const. Dog. A good old man sir, he will be talking as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out, God help 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 behind, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to be worshipt, all men are not alike, alas good neighbour. Leonato Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you. Const. Do. Gifts that God giues. Leonato I must leaue you. Const. Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede comprehended two aspitious persons, and wee woulde haue them this morning examined before your worship. Leonato Take their examination your selfe, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as it may appeare vnto you. Constable It shall be suffigance. Leonato 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. Go good partner, goe get you to Francis Sea-cole, bid him bring his penne and inckehorne to the Gaole: we are now to examination these men. Verges And we must do it wisely. Dogbery We will spare for no witte I warrant you: heeres that shall driue some of them to a noncome, only get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication, and meet me at the Iaile. 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 shall recount their particular dueties afterwards. Fran. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady. Claudio No. Leo To bee married to her: Frier, you come to marry her. Frier Lady, you come hither to be married to this counte. Hero I do. Frier If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your soules to vtter it. Claudio Know you any, Hero? Hero None my lord. Frier Know you any, Counte? Leonato I dare make his answer, None. Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! Bene. Howe nowe! interiections? why then, some be of laughing, as, ah, ha, he. Claudio Stand thee by Frier, father by your leaue, Will you with free and vnconstrained soule �Giue me this maide your daughter? Leonata As freely sonne as God did giue her mee. Claudio And what haue I to giue you backe whose woorth May counterpoise this rich and pretious gift? Princn Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe. Claudio Sweete Prince, you learne 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 honor: Behold how like a maide she blushes heere! O what authoritie and shew of truth Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall! Comes not that blood, 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 heate of a luxurious bed: Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie. Leonato What do you meane, my lord? Claudio Not to be married, Not to knit my soule to an approoued wanton. Leonato Deere my lord, if you in your owne proofe, Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth, And made defeate of her virginitie. Claudio 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 comelie loue. Hero And seemde I euer otherwise to you? �Claudio Out on thee seeming. I wil 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? Leonato Sweete prince, why speake not you? Prince What should I speake? I stand dishonourd that haue gone about, To lincke my deare friend to a common stale. Leonato Are these things spoken, or do I but dreame? Bastard Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bened. This lookes not like a nuptiall. Hero True, O God! Claud. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? is this the princes brother? Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne? Leonato All this is so, but what of this my Lord? Claud. Let me but moue one question to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power, That you haue 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 catechising call you this? Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero Is it not Hero, who can blot that name With any iust reproch? Claud. Mary 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 maide, answer to this. Hero I talkt with no man at that hower my lord. Prince Why then are you no maiden. Leonato, I am sory you must heare: vpon mine honor, My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Counte Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night, Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeede 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 spoke of, There is not chastitie enough in language, Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty lady, I am sory for thy much misgouernement. Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou bin, If halfe thy outward graces had bin placed, About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart? But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell Thou pure impietie, and impious puritie, For thee ile locke vp all the gates of Loue, And on my eie-liddes shall Coniecture hang, To turne all beautie into thoughts of harme, And neuer shall it more be gracious. Leonato Hath no mans dagger here a point for me. Beatrice Why how now cosin, wherfore sinke you down? Bastard Come let vs go: these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits vp. Benedicke How doth the Lady? Beatrice Dead I thinke, help vncle, �Hero, why Hero, vncle, signior Benedicke, Frier. Leonato O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand, Death is the fairest couer for her shame That may be wisht for. Beatrice How now cosin Hero? Frier Haue comfort lady. Leonato Dost thou looke vp? Frier Yea, wherefore should she not? Leonato Wherfore? why doth not euery earthly thing, Cry shame vpon her? could she here deny The story that is printed in her bloud? Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eies: For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirites were stronger than thy shames, My selfe would on the rereward of reproches Strike at thy life. Grieued I I had but one? Chid I for that at frugall Natures frame? O one too much by thee: why had I one? Why euer wast thou louely in my eies? Why had I not with charitable hand, Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates, Who smirched thus, and mired with infamy, I might haue said, no part of it is mine, This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loynes, But mine and mine I loued, and mine I praisde, And mine that I was prowd 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 incke, 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. Beat. O on my soule my cosin is belied. Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? Beat. No truly, not although vntill last night, I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow. Leon. Confirmd, confirmd, O that is stronger made, Which was before bard vp with ribs of yron, Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, Who loued her so, that speaking of her foulenesse, Washt it with teares! hence from her, let her die. Frier Heare me a little, for I haue only bin silent so long, & giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting of the lady, I haue markt, A thousand blushing apparitions, To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames, In angel whitenesse beate away those blushes, And in her eie there hath appeard 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 seale doth warrant The tenure of my booke: trust not my age, My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie, If this sweete ladie lie not guiltlesse here, Vnder some biting errour. Leonato Frier, it cannot be, Thou seest that al the grace that she hath left, Is, that she will not adde to her damnation, A sinne of periury, she not denies it: �Why seekst thou then to couer with excuse, That which appeares in proper nakednesse? Frier Lady, what man is he you are accusde of? Hero They know that do accuse me, I know none, If I know more of any man aliue Then that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sinnes lacke mercie, O my father, Proue you that any man with me conuerst, At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight Maintaind the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. Frier There is some strange misprision in the princes. Bene. Two of them haue the very bent of honour, And if their wisedomes be misled in this, The practise of it liues in Iohn the Bastard, Whose spirites toyle in frame of villanies. Leonato I know not, if they speake but truth of her, These hands shall teare her, if they wrong her honour, The prowdest of them shal 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 find awakte in such a kind, Both strength of limbe, and policy of mind, Ability in meanes, and choise of friends, To quit me of them throughly. Frier Pawse awhile, And let my counsell sway you in this case, Your daughter here the princesse (left for dead,) Let her awhile be secretly kept in, �And publish it, that she is dead indeede, Maintaine a mourning ostentation, And on your families old monument, Hang mourneful epitaphes, and do all rites, That appertaine vnto a buriall. Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do? Frier Mary this well caried, shall on her behalfe, Change slaunder 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 maintaind, Vpon the instant that she was accusde, Shal be lamented, pittied, and excusde Of euery hearer: for it so falls out, That what we haue, we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enioy it, but being lackt and lost, Why then we racke the valew, then we find The vertue that possession would not shew vs Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio: When hee shall heare she died vpon his words, Th Idaea of her life shall sweetly creepe, Into his study of imagination, And euery louely Organ of her life, Shall come apparelld in more precious habite, More moouing delicate, and full of life, Into the eie and prospect of his soule Then when she liude indeed: then shall 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 �Will 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 wel, you may conceale her, As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusiue and religious life, Out of all eies, tongues, minds, 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, by mine honor, I will deale in this, As secretly and iustly as your soule Should with your body. Leon. Being that I flow in griefe, The smallest twine may leade me. Frier Tis wel 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 and endure. exit. Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept al this while? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that. Beat. You haue no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely I do beleeue your faire cosin is wronged. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of me that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship? Beat. A very euen way, but no such friend. �Bene. May a man do it? Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours. Bene. I doe loue nothing in the worlde so well as you, is not that strange? Beat. As strange as the thing I knowe not, it were as possible for me to say, I loued nothing so wel as you, but beleue me not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor I deny nothing, I am sory for my coosin. Bened. By my sword Beatrice, thou louest me. Beat. Do not sweare and eate it. Bened. I will sweare by it that you loue me, and I wil make him eate it that sayes I loue not you. Beat. Will you not eate your word? Bened. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest I loue thee. Beat. Why then God forgiue me. Bened. VVhat offence sweete Beatrice? Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy houre, I was about to protest I loued you. Bened. And do 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. Bened. Ha, not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to deny it, farewell. Bened. Tarry sweete Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, though I am here, there is no loue in you, nay I pray you let me go. Bened. Beatrice. Beat. In faith I will go. �Bened. VVeele be friends first. Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight with mine enemy. Bened. Is Claudio thine enemy? Beat. Is a not approoued in the height a villaine, that hath slaundered, scorned, dishonored my kinswoman? O that I were a man! what, beare her in hand, vntill they come to take handes, and then with publike accusation vncouerd slaunder, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I woulde eate his heart in the market place. Bened. Heare me Beatrice. Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper saying. Bened. Nay but Beatrice. Beat. Sweete Hero, she is wrongd, she is slaundred, shee is vndone. Bened. Beat? Beat. Princes and Counties! surely a princely testimonie, a goodly Counte, Counte Comfect, a sweete Gallant surely, O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend woulde be a man for my sake! But manhoode is melted into cursies, valour into complement, and men are only turnd into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tels a lie, and sweares it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a woman with grieuing. Bened. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee. Beatrice Vse it for my loue some other way than swearing by it. Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio hath wrongd Hero? Beatrice Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule. Bened. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will �kisse your hand, and so I leaue you: by this hand, Claudio shal render me a deere account: as you heare of me, so think of me: goe comforte your coosin, I must say she is dead, and so farewell. Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne clearke in gownes. Keeper Is our whole dissembly appeard? Cowley O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton. Sexton Which be the malefactors? Andrew Mary that am I, and my partner. Cowley Nay thats certaine, we haue the exhibition to examine. Sexton But which are the offenders? that are to be examined, let them come before maister constable. Kemp Yea mary, let them come before mee, what is your name, friend? Bor. Borachio. Ke. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra. Con. I am a gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade. Ke. Write downe maister gentleman Conrade: maisters, do you serue God? Both Yea sir we hope. Kem. Write downe, that they hope they serue God: and write God first, for God defend but God shoulde goe before such villaines: maisters, it is prooued alreadie that you are little better than false knaues, and it will go neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your selues? Con. Mary sir we say, we are none. Kemp A maruellous witty fellowe I assure you, but I will go 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 VVel, stand aside, fore God they are both in a tale: haue you writ downe, that they are none? Sexton Master constable, you go not the way to examine, you must call foorth the watch that are their accusers. Kemp Yea mary, thats 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 downe, prince Iohn a villaine: why this is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine. Borachio Maister Constable. Kemp Pray thee fellowe peace, I doe not like thy looke I promise thee. Sexton VVhat heard you him say else? Watch 2 Mary that he had receiued a thousand duckats of don Iohn, for accusing the Ladie Hero wrongfully. Kemp Flat burglarie as euer was committed. Const. Yea by masse that it is. Sexton VVhat else fellow? Watch 1 And that Counte Claudio did meane vppon his wordes, to disgrace Hero before the whole assemblie, and not marrie her. Kemp O villaine! thou wilt be condemnd into euerlasting redemption for this. Sexton VVhat else? Watch This is all. Sexton And this is more masters then you can deny, prince Iohn is this morning secretlie stolne awaie: Hero was in this manner accusde, in this verie manner refusde, and vppon the �griefe of this, sodainlie died: Maister Constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonatoes, I will goe before and shew him their examination. Constable Come, let them be opiniond. Couley Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe. Kemp Gods my life, wheres the Sexton? let him write down the Princes officer Coxcombe: come, bind them, thou naughty varlet. Couley Away, you are an asse, you are an asse. Kemp Doost thou not suspect my place? doost thou not suspect my yeeres? O that he were here to write me downe an asse! but maisters, remember that I am an asse, though it bee not written downe, yet forget not that I am an asse: No thou villaine, thou art full of pietie as shal be prou'de vpon thee by good witnes, I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer, and which is more, a housholder, and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as anie is in Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, and a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing hansome about him: bring him away: O that I had bin writ downe an asse! exit. Enter Leonato and his brother. Brother If you go on thus, you will kill your selfe, And tis not wisedome thus to second griefe, Against your selfe. Leonato I pray thee cease thy counsaile, Which falles into mine eares as profitlesse, As water in a syue: giue not me counsaile, Nor let no comforter delight mine eare, But such a one whose wrongs doe sute with mine. �Bring me a father that so lou'd his child, Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmd like mine, And bid him speake of patience, Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine, And let it answer 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 prouerbes, make misfortune drunke, 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 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 medcine to rage, Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred, Charme ach with ayre, and agony with words, No, no, tis all mens office, to speake patience To those that wring vnder the loade 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 griefes crie lowder then aduertisement. Brother Therein do men from children nothing differ. Leonato I pray thee peace, I wil be flesh and bloud, For there was neuer yet Philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ake 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 do offend you, suffer too. Leonato There thou speakst reason, nay I will do 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. Brother Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. Prince Good den, good den. Claudio Good day to both of you. Leonato Heare you my Lords? Prince We haue some haste Leonato. Leonato Some haste my lord! well, fare you well my lord, Are you so hasty now? wel, all is one. Prince Nay do not quarrel with vs, good old man. Brother If he could right himselfe with quarrelling, Some of vs would lie low. Claudio Who wrongs him? Leona. Mary thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou: Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword, I feare thee not. Claudio Mary 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 wrongd mine innocent child and me, That I am forst to lay my reuerence by, �And with grey haires and bruise of many daies, Do challenge thee to triall 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 toomb where neuer scandal slept, Saue this of hers, framde by thy villanie. Claudio My villany? Leonato Thine Claudio, thine I say. Prince You say not right old man. Leonato My Lord, my Lord, Ile prooue it on his body if he dare, Dispight his nice fence, and his actiue practise, His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood. Claudio Away, I will not haue to doe with you. Leonato Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child, If thou kilst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. Brother He shal kill two of vs, and men indeed, But thats no matter, let him kill one first: Win me and weare me, let him answer 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. Leonato Brother. Brother Content your self, God knowes, I loued my neece, And she is dead, slanderd to death by villaines, That dare as well answer a man indeed. As I dare take a serpent by the tongue, Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops. Leonato Brother Anthony. Brother Hold you content, what man! I know them, yea �And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple, Scambling out-facing, fashion-monging boies, That lie, and cogge, and flout, depraue, and slaunder, Go antiquely, and shew outward hidiousnesse, And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, And this is all. Leonato But brother Anthonie. Brother Come tis no matter, Do not you meddle, let me deale in this. Prince Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience, My heart is sory for your daughters death: But on my honour she was chargde with nothing But what was true, and very full of proofe. Leonato My Lord, my Lord. Prince I will not heare you. Leo. No come brother, away, I wil be heard. Exeunt amb. Bro. And shal, or some of vs wil smart for it. Enter Ben. Prince See see, heere comes the man we went to seeke. Claud. Now signior, what newes? Bened. Good day my Lord: Prince Welcome signior, you are almost come to parte almost a fray. Claud. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth. Prince Leonato and his brother what thinkst thou? had we fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for them. Bened. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came to seeke you both. �Claud. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for we are high proofe melancholie, and would faine haue it beaten away, wilt thou vse thy wit? Bened. It is in my scabberd, shal I drawe it? Prince Doest thou weare thy wit by thy side? Claud. Neuer any did so, though very many haue been beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as wee doe the minstrels, draw to pleasure vs. Prince As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou sicke, or angry? Claud. What, courage man: what though care kild a catte, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. Bened. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and you charge it against me, I pray you chuse another subiect Claud. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was broke crosse. Prince By this light, he chaunges more and more, I thinke he be angry indeed. Claud. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle. Bened. Shall I speake a word in your eare? Claud. God blesse me from a challenge. Bened. You are a villaine, I ieast not, I will make it good howe you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: doe mee right, or I will protest your cowardise: you haue killd a sweeete Lady, and her death shall fall heauie on you, let me heare from you. Claud. Well I wil meet you, so I may haue good cheare. Prince What, a feast, a feast? Claud. I faith I thanke him he hath bid me to a calues head & a capon, the which if I doe not carue most curiously, say my kniffe's naught, shall I not find a woodcocke too? �Bened. Sir your wit ambles well, it goes easily. Prince Ile tell thee how Beatrice praisd thy witte the other day: I said thou hadst a fine witte, true said she, a fine little one: no said I, a great wit: right saies she, 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 he swore a thing to mee on munday night, which hee forswore on tuesday morning, theres a double tongue theirs two tongues, thus did shee an houre together trans-shape thy particular vertues, yet at last she cõcluded with a sigh, thou wast the properst man in Italy. Claud. For the which shee wept heartily and saide she cared not. Prince Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would loue him dearely, the old mans daughter told vs all. Claud. All all, and moreouer, God sawe him when he was hid in the garden. Prince But when shall we set the sauage bulles hornes one the sensible Benedicks head? Clau. Yea and text vnder-neath, here dwells Benedick the married man. Bened. Fare you wel, boy, you know my minde, I wil leaue you now to your gossep-like humor, you breake iests as braggards do their blades, which God be thanked hurt not: my Lord, for your many courtisies I thanke you, I must discontinue your company, your brother the bastard is fled from Messina: you haue among you, kild a sweet and innocent lady: for my Lord Lacke-beard, there hee and I shal meet, and till then peace be with him. Prince He is in earnest. �Claudio In most profound earnest, and ile warrant you, for the loue of Beatrice. Prince And hath challengde thee. Claudio Most sincerely. Prince What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his dublet and hose, and leaues off his wit! Enter Constables, Conrade, and Borachio. 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, plucke vp my heart, and be sad, did he not say my brother was fled? Const. Come you sir, if iustice cannot tame you, she shall nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to. Prince How now, two of my brothers men bound? Borachio one. Claudio Hearken after their offence my Lord. Prince Officers, what offence haue these men done? Const. Mary sir, they haue committed false report, moreouer they haue spoken vntruths, secondarily they are slanders, sixt and lastly, they haue belyed a Lady, thirdly they haue verefied vniust thinges, and to conclude, they are lying knaues. Prince. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdly I ask thee whats their offence, sixt and lastly why they are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their charge. Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and by my troth theres one meaning wel suted. Prince Who haue you offended maisters, that you are thus bound to your answere? this learned Constable is too cunning to be vnderstood, whats your offence? Bor. Sweete prince, let me goe no farther to mine answere: �do you heare me, and let this Counte kill me: I haue deceiued euen your very eyes: what your wisedoms could not discouer, these shallowe fooles haue broght to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed me to slaunder the Lady Hero, howe you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Heroes garments, how you disgracde hir when you should marry hir: my villany they haue vpon record, which I had rather seale with my death, then repeate ouer to my shame: the lady is dead vpon mine and my masters false accusation: and briefely, I desire nothing but the reward of a villaine. Prince Runnes not this speech like yron through your bloud? Claud. I haue dronke poison whiles he vtterd it. Prince But did my brother set thee on to this? Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it. Prince He is composde and framde 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 and place shal serue, that I am an asse. Con. 2 Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too. Enter Leonato, his brother, and the Sexton. Leonato 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. �Leonato Art thou the slaue that with thy breath hast killd Mine innocent child? 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 worthy deeds, Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it. Clau. I know not how to pray your pacience, Yet I must speake, choose your reuenge your selfe, Impose me to what penance your inuention Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinnd I not, But in mistaking. Prince By my soule nor I, And yet to satisfie this good old man, I would bend vnder any heauy waight, That heele enioyne me to. Leonato I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue, That were impossible, but I pray 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 son in law, Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copie of my child thats dead, And she alone is heyre to both of vs, Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin, �And so dies my reuenge. Claudio O noble sir! Your ouer kindnesse doth wring teares from me, I do embrace your offer and dispose, For henceforth of poore Claudio. Leonato To morrow then I wil expect your comming, To night I take my leaue, this naughty man Shal face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I beleeue was packt in al this wrong, Hyred 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 alwayes hath bin iust and vertuous, In any thing that I do know by her. Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white and blacke, this plaintiffe heere, the offendour, did call me asse, I beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment, and also the watch heard them talke of one Deformed, they say he weares a key in his eare and a locke hanging by it, and borows monie in Gods name, the which he hath vsde so long, & neuer paied, that now men grow hard hearted and wil lend nothing for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point. Leonato I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines. Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankful and reuerent youth, and I praise God for you. Leon. Theres 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 merie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come neighbour. Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell. Brot. Farewell my lords, we looke for you to morrow. Prince We will not faile. Claud. To night ile mourne with Hero. Leonato Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with Margaret, how her acquaintance grew with this lewd felow. exeunt Enter Benedicke and Margaret. Bened. Praie thee sweete mistris Margaret, deserue well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. Mar. Wil 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 deseruest it. Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why shal I alwaies keep below staires. Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it catches. Mar. And your's, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly witte Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the bucklers. Marg. Giue vs the swordes, wee haue bucklers of our owne. Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must putte in the pikes with a vice, and they are daungerous weapons for �maides. Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath legges. Exit Margarite. Bene. And therefore wil come. The God of loue that sits aboue, and knowes mee, and knowes me, how pittifull I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first imploier of pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet runne smoothly in the euen rode of a blancke verse, why they were neuer so truly turnd ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: mary I cannot shew it in 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: very ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming plannet, nor I cannot wooe in festiuall termes: sweete Beatrice wouldst thou come when I cald thee? Enter Beatrice. Beat. Yea signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O stay but till then. Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you wel now, and yet ere I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath past betweene you and Claudio. Bene. Onely foule words, and therevpon I will kisse thee. Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therfore I wil depart vnkist. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sence, so forcible is thy wit, but I must tel thee plainly, Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly 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 fal in loue with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintaind so politique a state of euil, that they will not admitte 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 indeed, for I loue thee against my will. Beat. In spight of your heart I thinke, alas poore heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I wil neuer loue that which my friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceably. Beat. It appeares not in this confession, theres 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 do not erect in this age his owne toomb ere he dies, he shall liue no longer in monument, then the bell rings, and the widow weepes. Beat. And how long is that thinke you? Bene. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quarter in rhewme, therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don worme (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my self so much for praising my selfe, who I my selfe will beare witnes is praise worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin? Beat. Verie ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Verie ill too. Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there wil I leaue you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Vrsula. Vrsula Madam, you must come to your vncle, yonders old �coile at home, it is prooued my Lady Hero hath bin falsely accusde, the Prince and Claudio mightily abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently? Beat. Will you go heare this newes signior? Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eies: and moreouer, I wil go with thee to thy vncles. exit. Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with tapers. Claudio Is this the monument of Leonato? Lord It is my Lord. Epitaph. Done to death by slauderous tongues, Was the Hero that heere lies: Death in guerdon of her wronges, Giues her fame which neuer dies: So the life that dyed with shame, Liues in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there vpon the toomb, Praising hir when I am dead. Claudio Now musick sound & sing your solemne 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, help vs to sigh & grone. Heauily heauily. Graues yawne and yeeld your dead, Till death be vttered, Heauily heauily. Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this (right. �Prince Good morrow maisters, put your torches out, The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day Before the wheeles of Phœbus, round about Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey: Thanks to you al, and leaue vs, fare you well. Claudio Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way. Prince Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes, And then to Leonatoes we will goe. Claudio And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe. exeunt. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero. Frier Did I not tell you shee was innocent? Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accusd 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 Wel, I am glad that all things sorts so well. Bened. And so am I, being else by faith enforst 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 masked: The Prince and Claudio promisde by this howre To visite 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 confirmd countenance. Bened. Frier, I must intreate your paines, I thinke. �Frier To doe what Signior? Bened. To bind me, or vndo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of fauour. Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, tis most true. Bened. And I do with an eye of loue requite her. Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince, but whats your will? Bened. Your answere sir is enigmaticall, But for my wil, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conioynd, In the state of honorable marriage, In which (good Frier) I shal desire your help. Leo. My heart is with your liking. Frier And my helpe. Heere comes the Prince and Claudio. Enter Prince, and Claudio, and two or three other. Prince Good morrow to this faire assembly. Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio: We heere attend you, are you yet determined, To day to marry with my brothers daughter? Claud. Ile hold my mind were she an Ethiope. Leo Call her foorth brother, heres the Frier ready. P. Good morrow Bened. why whats 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, weele tip thy hornes with gold, And all Europa shall reioyce at thee, As once Europa did at lustie Ioue, When he would play the noble beast in loue. �Bene. Bull Ioue sir had an amiable lowe, And some such strange bull leapt your fathers cowe, And got a calfe in that same noble feate, Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleate. Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula. Clau. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings. Which is the Lady I must seize vpon? Leo. This same is she, and I do giue you her. Claud. Why then shees mine, sweet, let me see your face. Leon. No that you shall not till you take her hand, Before this Frier, and sweare to marry hir. Claud. 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 loued, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero. Hero Nothing certainer. One Hero died defilde, but I do liue, And surely as I liue, I am a maide. Prince The former Hero, Hero that is dead. Leon. She died my Lord, but whiles her slaunder 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. Do not you loue me? Beat. Why no, no more then reason. Bene. Why then your vncle, and the prince, and Claudio, �Haue beene deceiued, they swore you did. Beat. Do not you loue me? 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 that you were almost sicke for me. Beat. They swore that you were welnigh dead for me. Bene. Tis no such matter, then you do not loue me. Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence. Leon. Come cosin, I am sure you loue the gentleman. Clau. And ile besworne 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 heres another, Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket, Containing her affection vnto Benedicke. Bene. A miracle, heres 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, and partly to saue your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption. Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth. Prince. How dost thou Benedicke the married man? Bene. Ile tel thee what prince: a colledge of witte-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour, dost thou think I care for a Satyre or an Epigramme? no, if a man will be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing hansome about him: in briefe, since I doe purpose to marrie, I will think nothing to anie purpose that the world can saie against it, and therfore neuer flout at me, for what I haue said against it: for man is a giddie thing, �and this is my conclusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruisde, and loue my cousen. Clau. I had wel hopte thou wouldst haue denied Beatrice, that I might haue cudgelld thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of question thou wilt be, if my coosin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends, lets haue a dance ere we are maried, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues heeles. Leon. Weele haue dancing afterward. Bene. First, of my worde, therefore plaie musicke, Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no staffe more reuerent then one tipt with horne. Enter Messenger. Mess. 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. � 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 (Kvartó) Subject The topic of the resource Kvartókiadás szövege Description An account of the resource A kvartókiadás 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 A British Library fakszimile példánya http://www.bl.uk/treasures/SiqDiscovery/ui/record.aspx?Source=text&LHCopy=47&LHPage=-2&RHCopy=47&RHPage=-1 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Andrew Wise William Aspley Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1600. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource Könyv Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. London Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. papír Zotero Book Author William Shakespeare Artwork Medium Könyv Artwork Size Kvartó Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1600 Genre Komédia Language angol Medium könyv Place London betűhív átirat digitális szöveg komédia kvartókiadás Sok hűhó semmiért