1 10 14 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/e34befcab5ea8fc82892c76b99ed150f.pdf 0e998baa1c8e0d8a888c6fcb707e6e37 PDF Text Text Macbeth Fordította Kállay Géza I. felvonás 1.1. [Mennydörgés és villámlás. Belép három BOSZORKÁNY.] ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Mikor leszünk megint hárman? Mennydörgős szél viharában? MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Ha a gomoly tisztább lett, Csatát veszt és nyer a tett. HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Nem lesz még éj nap helyett. ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY És hol a hely? MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY A mezőn. HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Megyünk, s Macbeth odajön. ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Szürke macska, jövök már. MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Hív a varangy. HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Most mindjár’… MIND Rút a jó, és szép a rossz, Ködmocsokba oszladozz. 1.2. [Kürtszó. Belép a KIRÁLY [DUNCAN], MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX kísérőkkel; egy KAPITÁNY- nyal találkoznak, aki vérzik.] �DUNCAN Miféle véres embert látok ott? Ahogy kinéz, biztosan szemtanúként Számolhat be a csata állásáról. MALCOLM Ez a tiszt az a remek katona, apám, Aki nem hagyta, hogy fogságba essek. Üdv neked, bátor barátom! Beszéld el A Királynak, hogy forrt az ütközet Mielőtt idejöttél. KAPITÁNY Kétesen…, Mint két kimerült úszó, ha egymásba Csimpaszkodik, és épp azt fojtja meg, Amit legjobban tud. A kegyetlen Macdonwald (híres lázadó, hiszen Elborítja, rajta csüng A természet minden aljassága) A Hebridák felől talpasaival És lándzsásaival nyugatról támadt, S a Szerencse, mintha kurvája lenne, Az ő ütegére mosolygott. De hiába, mert a bátor Macbeth (Illik rá a jelző!) suhogó vasával, Mely párállott az ölésben a vértől, Fittyet hányt a Szerencsének, és mint Hősök közt főhős, kimetszette útját; Szeme a lázadó szemébe mélyedt, Annyit sem mondott: „befellegzett”, csak Felhasította a köldökétől állig, A fejét meg a vár fokára tűzte. DUNCAN Ó, vitéz rokon; kiváló ember! KAPITÁNY Mint mikor zeniten van a tavaszi nap, És megszakasztja viharok dühét, Ennek épp az ellenképe támadt, És vigasz helyett dagadt a veszély. Figyelj, nagy skót király, figyelj: Mihelyt a csőcselék menekülőre fogta, Sarkukban a hősies igazsággal, A norvég király esélyt szimatolt, És fényes pengékkel, pihent erőkkel Új támadásba lendült. �DUNCAN Megijedt-e ettől Macbeth és Banquo, A mi két parancsnokunk? KAPITÁNY Persze, mint sas a verébtől vagy oroszlán a nyúltól. Így volt: mint mikor az ágyúban dupla Töltet dördül, kétszer-kétszeres erővel Estek az ellenségre. Hogy vérgőzfürdő Volt-e vágyuk vagy egy új Golgota, Nem tudom. De rosszul vagyok, tátong a sebem. DUNCAN Szavad éppúgy illik hozzád, mint a seb: Becsületedre válik. Küldjetek orvosért. [KAPITÁNY el, kísérettel.] Ki jön itt? MALCOLM Ross vitéz thánja, felséges uram. LENNOX Egész lényéből sürgetés sugárzik, Az ilyen ember különös hírmondó. ROSS Isten áldja királyunkat! DUNCAN Honnan jössz, nemes thán? ROSS Fife-ból, uralkodóm, Ahol a lehajló norvég zászlók Legyezőként dicsérik a legyőzőt. Nyüzsgött a norvég, maga a király Vezette őket, s az aljas áruló: Cawdor thánja: ő új frontot nyitott, De Bellona vőlegénye biztos Páncélban szembeszállt vele, S mintha önmagával küzdene, Kard kard ellen, ide-oda: a lázadó Kedvét megnyirbálta. A komor helyzet A mi javunkra fordult, egy szó mint száz: Miénk a győzelem! �DUNCAN Micsoda öröm! ROSS Most ez a Sweno, a norvég király, Békéért esdekel, de nem engedjük, Hogy a halottait eltemesse, Míg Saint Colm Inchben nem helyez letétbe Tízezer tallért jóvátételként. DUNCAN Cawdor thánja sem él vissza többé A bizalmunkkal; végeztesd ki, S ami övé volt, Macbethé legyen. ROSS Igenis, uram. DUNCAN Amit veszített, Macbeth nyerte el. 1.3. [Mennydörgés. Belép a három BOSZORKÁNY.] ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Hol voltál, húgocskám? MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Disznót öltem. HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Hát te, nővérkénk? ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Egy hajós asszonyának térdén gesztenye, Tömte, tömte, tömte magát, én mondom: „Adjon má’ ”. „Tágulj, boszorkány” – így a nagyfarú nyanya, A férje, a Tigris hajó parancsnoka, Aleppóba ment, Rostán oda vitorlázok, Farkatlan patkánnyá válok, Így teszek rá, így, így, így. MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Kaphatsz szelet. ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY �Hálás leszek. HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Tessék, még egy kis légáram. ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY A többi már itt van nálam; Elérheti bármely partot, Bújhat bármely sötét sarkot, Ami rajta a térképen: Ezt már meg nem ússza épen. Kiszárítom! A szemhéját Fölfeszíti nap és éj, Ő lesz a gyűlölt személy. Nyolcvanegy lankasztó héten, Aszik, töpped, mondja: „végem”, Bár bárkája nem vész el, Vihart épp, hogy átvészel. Nézd csak, mim van! MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Muti, muti! ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Egy kormányost a szél fújta, Hajója tört, meg egy ujja. Közeli dobszó. HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Dobszó, dobszó, Macbeth-hozó! MIND Három nővér, vészlények, Vízen, földön rémségek, Kéz a kézben táncol körbe, Neked három, nekem három, Most még a kilencet várom, Állj! Meghúztuk a varázskört. [Jön MACBETH és BANQUO.] MACBETH Sosem volt még ennyire szép és rossz napom. BANQUO Mennyire van ide Forres? – Mik ezek, Vad öltözetben, lógó, gyér ruhában? Nem úgy néznek ki, mint a föld lakói. �És mégis rajta állnak? – Éltek? Egyáltalán: Ember föltehet nektek kérdéseket? Azt hiszem, értitek, amit mondok, Mert mind egyszerre rücskös ujját vékony Szájára nyomja: nőknek mondanálak, De a szakállatok rám cáfol. MACBETH Beszéljetek, ha tudtok: mik vagytok? ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Éljen Macbeth, üdv neked, Glamis thánja! MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Éljen Macbeth, üdv neked, Cawdor thánja! HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Éljen Macbeth, a későbbi király! BANQUO Uram, összerándulsz? Az riaszt, ami Éppen szépen hangzik? — Az igazságra Kérlek: mondjátok, képzelődünk, Vagy belül is azok vagytok, akik Kívülről? Nemes társamat itt nagy Jóindulattal, kedvező jóslattal Köszöntitek: vagyonról, királyságról Beszéltek: egészen belerévült. Hozzám nem szóltok. Ha látjátok az Idő vetését: melyik mag kel ki, Melyik nem, ahhoz is szóljatok, aki Nem kér pártfogást, de attól sem fél, Hogy kegyvesztett lesz. ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Üdv! MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Üdv! HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Üdv! ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Kisebb leszel, mint Macbeth, és nagyobb. MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Nem olyan boldog, mégis boldogabb. �HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Királyokat nemzel, te nem leszel az. Éljen hát Macbeth és éljen Banquo! ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Banquo és Macbeth, üdv! MACBETH Maradjatok, ezt be kell még fejezni, Beszéljetek tovább! Finel meghalt: jó, Ezért vagyok Glamis, de hogyhogy Cawdor? Cawdor thánja él, sikeres ember, S hogy király leszek, annyira hihető, Mint az, hogy Cawdor thánja. Mondjátok, Honnan a titkos hír, és miért ezen Az átkozott mezőn álltok elénk Éljenző jóslatokkal? Ha nem szólsz, Kényszerítlek. [A BOSZORKÁNYOK eltűnnek.] BANQUO Van vízi, de földi buborék is, Ezek olyanok voltak. Hová lettek? MACBETH A levegőbe, és ami testinek tűnt, A szélbe tűnt, mint a lélegzeted. Bárcsak maradtak volna! BANQUO Megtörtént, amiről most beszélünk? Vagy bolondgombát reggeliztünk, S gondolkodásunkat az ejtette foglyul? MACBETH A gyerekeidből király lesz. BANQUO Te pedig király. MACBETH És Cawdor thánja is: nem így mondták? BANQUO Még a szavakat is így ejtették – ki van itt? [Belép ROSS és ANGUS.] ROSS �A király örömmel vette, Macbeth, Győzelmed híreit, személyes érdemed A lázadók rémületével méri, Küzd benne a bámulat s dicséret, Töpreng, melyiket tartsa meg, s melyik Legyen tiéd. Néma ámulattal Nyugtázta, hogy ugyanaz a nap még Ott talált a norvég sáncokon, s hogy nem Riasztott a halál rémképe, melyet Az ellenségre magad festettél fel. Sűrűn estek be a hírnökök, s mint Országunk oltalmazóját Dicsérnek, s legendád fonalát A király előtt gombolyítják le. ANGUS Királyurunk a köszönetét küldi, Színe elé kéret, jutalmad ott Kapod meg. ROSS S egy még nagyobb méltóság Bizonyítékaként parancsolta, Köszöntselek most úgy mint Cawdor thánját, Úgyhogy: üdv neked, nemes thán, Kiérdemelted. BANQUO Mi, az ördög is mondhat igazat? MACBETH Cawdor thánja él. Mért adod rám A más ruháját? ANGUS A régi thán még él, ez igaz, De életét nehéz ítélet nyomja: Halálbüntetés. Hogy a norvégokkal hogyan paktált össze, Vagy titokban ment a hadisegély, Vagy másképp árulta el hazáját, Nem tudom. Idegenszívűségét Megmutatta, bevallotta, mi pedig Kivégezzük. MACBETH [Félre.] Glamis és Cawdor thánja? A legnagyobb hátra van. – Köszönöm nektek. �[Banquóhoz] Elhiszed-e, hogy fiadból király lesz? Reménykedsz? Akik engem először Cawdor ruhájába öltöztettek, neked ezt ígérték. BANQUO Egy találat van, De új tháni címed lehet, arra Lobbant, hogy a koronát vedd célba. Különös, hogy gyakran a sötét erők Igazat mondanak, így fordítanak Magunk ellen; ártatlan semmiségek Lesznek árulóink, s a következmény A mélységbe ránt. Testvéreim, egy szóra. MACBETH [Félre.] Elhangzott két igazság, Királydrámában termékeny prológus, Ha alakul az első felvonás. – Köszönöm, uraim. – [Félre.] Hogy ez a történet a földön túlról indul, Lehet, hogy jó, de hozhat bajt is. Ha bajt hoz, mért vagyok biztos a sikeremben? Mért lett igaz? Cawdor thánja vagyok. Ha jó, mért engedek a sejtetésnek, A rémképnek, melytől a hajam égnek áll, Békés szívem bordáimon dörömböl: Ez nem természetes! A félelem itt és most Nem annyi, mint az ábrázolt szörnyűség. A gondolat csak képzeli még, hogy öl, De úgy rázza létem állványzatát, Hogy a cselekvés elméletekbe fullad, És van a semmi, és az sincs, ami van. BANQUO Nézzétek, társunk hogy elmerült magában. MACBETH Ha úgy esik, hogy királlyá leszek, Nos, akkor az alkalom ad majd koronát, Nem mozdulok. BANQUO Új tisztességeket raktatok rá, Különös ruha az: mint a földi test, Csak ha használod, dől el, mennyit ér. �MACBETH Jöjjön, aminek jönnie kell: Egyszer a legkeményebb nap is véget ér. BANQUO Nemes Macbeth, tőled függ, indulunk-e. MACBETH Bocsánatot kérek, zsibbadt agyam Elfelejtett dolgokkal csatázott. Köszönöm, uraim: ha életem könyvében Lapozok, érdemetek ott szerepel majd Minden oldalon. És most a királyhoz! [Banquóhoz.] Gondolkozz azon, ami ma megesett, Jelentőségét később jobban látjuk, S akkor szabadon beszélgetünk róla. BANQUO Nagyon szívesen. MACBETH Ennyi most elég. – Gyerünk, barátaim. [El.] 1.4. [Kürtszó. Belép DUNCAN, LENNOX, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN és a kísérők.] DUNCAN Kivégezték már Cawdort? A megbízottak visszajöttek? MALCOLM Nem jöttek még meg, felséges apám, De beszéltem eggyel, aki látta a kivégzését, És ő azt mondta, vallott, áruló volt, Kegyelemért hozzád fellebbezett, és Tettét mélyen megbánta. Semmi sem Illett hozzá jobban életében, mint halála. Úgy halt meg, mint a halál szakértője, Úgy dobta el legféltettebb kincsét, Mint holmi semmiséget. DUNCAN Az arcon Nem találod, ki mit gondol belül. Erre nincs módszer. Mindenkinél Jobban bíztam benne. �[Belép MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS és ANGUS.] Ó, legkedvesebb rokon, mennyire Nyomasztott a hálátlanság bűne! Mindenki mást annyira megelőzöl, Hogy a leggyorsabban felszárnyaló hála Is lassan ér utol. Bár érdemelnél Kevesebbet, akkor én szabhatnám ki Köszönet és fizetség határát. Csak annyit mondok: akkor is több járna, Ha a mindent fizetnénk ki neked. MACBETH Maga a szolgálat és a hűség, Amivel tartozom, már megéri. Felséged – szerepe szerint – fogadja, Amit teszünk érte, és a trónért, Államért, gyermekekért: mindenkiért, Aki szolgál. Ők meg teszik, amit kell, Hogy kimutassák, szeretnek és becsülnek. DUNCAN Gyere, megölellek. Most jó talajba ültettelek el, Gondom lesz rá, hogy tovább növekedj. Nemes Banquo: nem kevesebbet Érdemelsz – és tudja meg mindenki, Hogy ugyanannyit tettél – hadd ölellek! BANQUO Ha növekszem, tiéd az aratás. DUNCAN A bőséges öröm úgy élvezi A teljességet, hogy bús könnyek mögé Bújik. Fiaim, rokonok, thánok, És ti, legközelebb hozzám, halljátok: Későbbi birodalmunk idősebbik Fiunkra alapítjuk: Malcolm mostantól Cumberland hercege. Emellett pedig, Érdem szerint, csillagok és sok más Kitüntetés ragyog majd sokakon. [MACBETH-hez.] És most Invernessbe, hozzád: Legyen köztünk szorosabb kötelék! MACBETH Ami most jön, majd értelmet ad annak, �Hogy létezünk. Én magam viszem a hírt, A feleségem boldog lesz, hogy jössz, Ezért, engedelmeddel, távozom. DUNCAN Kedves, nagyszerű Cawdor. MACBETH [Félre.] Cumberland hercege: olyan lépés, Amelyen bukhatok, vagy át kell lépnem, Mert utamban áll. Csillagok: tüzet szüntess. A mélyfekete vágy nem a fényre vágyik, Mikor a szem a kézzel összejátszik. De az hadd legyen, Ami, ha tett, megretten a szem. [El.] DUNCAN Milyen igaz, kedves Banquo: remek ember, Kezeskedem érte! Egy hasas bankóm Van rá (haha), egy lakoma nem laktat úgy, Mintha őt nézed, vele töltekezel. Most menjünk utána, előttünk jár, Hogy gondoskodjon rólunk. Gyerünk! 1.5. [Belép LADY MACBETH egyedül, levéllel a kezében, melyet éppen olvas.] LADY MACBETH „…a siker napján találtak rám, és a legtökéletesebb bizonyítékkal rendelkezem, hogy több lakik bennük, mint amit földi lény tudhat. Amikor égtem a vágytól,hogy tovább kérdezzem őket, levegővé változtatták magukat, ebben tűntek el. Amikor ámulatba merülve álltam, egyszer csak követek érkeztek a királytól, akik Cawdor thánjaként üdvözöltek, és ezzel a címmel köszöntöttek a vészlények is, célozgatva az elkövetkezendő időre, így: „Üdv, király: aki leszel”. Úgy gondoltam, jó, ha ezt tudatom veled, kedves kicsi társam, akivel mindig is osztoztam, ha nagy volt a siker, hiszen megfosztanálak valamitől, ami jár neked; tudnod kell, hogy te is örülj, milyen nagy méltóságot ígértek neked. Mindezt szívedre bízom, a viszontlátásig.” Glamis vagy, és Cawdor vagy; s az leszel, Amit ígértek – de félek, természetedben Túlteng az emberi jóság langy teje, Hogy rögtön cselekedj. Nagyra törsz, tudod, Hogy mire vágysz, de nem kell a romlás, Ami mindezzel jár. Amit akarsz, �Azt megszentelve kéred, tisztán játszol, Mégis rossz okból nyersz. Azt kívánod, Glamis, ami kiált, hogy „így kell tenned, Ha kellek neked”, de félsz megtenni, S azt mondod: „hagyjuk el”. Gyorsan gyere, És szellememet a füledbe öntöm, S bátor nyelvemmel űzöm el, ami Utadban áll a koronához, melyet, Úgy tűnik, már fejedre tett a sors, És valami természetfölötti. [Belép egy SZOLGA.] Mi történt? Van valami hír? SZOLGA Estére ideér a király. LADY MACBETH Mért beszélsz ilyen őrültségeket? Urad nincsen vele? Ha így lenne, Szólt volna, hogy készülődjünk. SZOLGA Úrnőm, jön urunk, Macbeth is, ez igaz, Egy szolgatársam megelőzte, de Úgy kapkodta a levegőt, hogy majdnem meghalt, Mielőtt kilehelte az üzenetet. LADY MACBETH Adj neki valamit, fontos hírt hozott. [SZOLGA el.] LADY MACBETH Rekedt maga a holló, Aki hírül adja Duncan végzetes belépőjét Kastélyom kapuján. Gyertek, a sorsnak szolgáló szellemek, Itt változtassatok át, Ne számítson, hogy nőnek születtem. A fejem búbjától a nagylábujjamig Töltsön el a legriasztóbb kegyetlenség, Legyen sűrű a vérem, zárjátok el A megbánás útjait, És ha a természet elgyengítene, Ádáz vágyamat ne veszítsem el; Ne támadjon rés szándék és cél között. Két mellemben a tej legyen erjedt epe; �Ti láthatatlan, gyilkoló segédek, Álljatok lesben, hogy a természet Rontását segítsétek. Szállj le, sűrű éj, borítsd magad A legtöményebb pokolfüstbe, Hogy mohó késem ne lássa: sebet ejt, S a menny ne kémleljen a sűrű takarón át, Hogy azt kiáltsa: „Megállj!” és „Ne tedd!” [Belép MACBETH.] Nagy Glamis, drága Cawdor, S még több azáltal, ami később vár rád, Leveled kiemelt az értetlen jelenből, És a jövőt a pillanatban érzem. MACBETH Drága szerelmem, Duncan itt lesz ma éjjel. LADY MACBETH Mikor megy el? MACBETH Majd holnap, ez a terv. LADY MACBETH Kelő nap nem látja meg azt a holnapot. Arcod nagy, nyitott könyv, drága thánom, És benne másnak visszás a tartalom. Úgy csald az időt, hogy idomulsz hozzá, A szem, kéz, nyelv mondja: „Isten hozott”, S míg úgy tűnsz nekik, mint szende virágszál, Te légy a kígyó, mely alatta lapul. Az érkezőt méltóan kell fogadni, De ami az éjjeli ügyet illeti, Azt bízd csak rám, s minden további éj És rólunk szóló nap teljes hatalmú Királya leszünk. MACBETH Jó, ezt majd megbeszéljük. LADY MACBETH Derűsen nézz, A félelem nyomot hagy az arcon. Ha megteszed, a többi az én harcom. [Mindketten el.] 1.6. �[Fiúk fuvolával és fáklyások. Belép a DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENNOX, MACDUFF, ROSS, ANGUS és kísérők.] DUNCAN Kellemes helyre épült ez a vár, S a magaslati levegő jólesőn Cirógatja fáradt szemem. BANQUO A nyár vendége, A fészkét a templomfalra tapasztó Fecske nem kedvelné így ezt a helyet, Ha nem érezné a menny leheletét. Nincs párkány, pillér, sarokív, falkönyök, Ahová fészkét, ezt az ágyat, Ezt az ingó bölcsőt Ne építené nagy szakértelemmel: Itt szeret költeni. Megfigyeltem, Az ilyen helyen jó a levegő. [Belép LADY MACBETH.] DUNCAN Ó, itt van a ház úrnője. – A kedvesség, Amivel elhalmoznak, néha túl sok, De azért nagyon kedves. Megtanítlak, Hogyan kérd az Istent, hogy ő köszönje, Amit értünk teszel. LADY MACBETH Minden szolgálat, Ha kétszer tennénk, és megint még kétszer, Kevés volna a tisztességhez képest, Hogy urunk házunkba száll. Hálánknak Széle-hossza nincs. Szegény remeteként Köszönjük a régebbi és új tisztségeket, Melyeket ránk ruházol. DUNCAN Merre van Cawdor thánja? Azt hittük, Utolérjük, és mi fogadjuk őt, De jó lovas, és szeretete, Mint éles sarkantyú, hozta haza, S előttünk célba ért. Drága úrnőm, Ma éjjel te gondoskodj rólunk. LADY MACBETH Szolgáid, és a szolgák sok szolgája �Kihallgatásra óhajod elé Rakják majd mindenük, ami amúgy is Mind tiéd volt. DUNCAN Add a kezed, vezess a ház urához, Nagyon szeretjük, és a kegyeinket Tovább élvezheti. [Kezét nyújtja.] Engedd meg, úrnőm. 1.7. [Fiúk fuvolával, fáklyák. Feltűnik a főtálaló mester és különböző szolgák tálakkal és más edényekkel a színpadon. Azután belép MACBETH.] MACBETH: Ha meglenne a tett, amikor megvan, Jó lenne, hogyha gyorsan lenne meg. Ha a merényletből háló is lehetne, Mely a halállal a következményt Éppúgy elkapná, mint a sikert, ha A csapás egyszerre lenne minden Léte és vége egyben, akkor itt, itt, Az idő innenső partján kockáztatnánk, Ami még hátra van. Csakhogy ilyenkor Itt van az ítélet, s a véres okítás, Ha célba talál, épp oktatóját Ízekre szedi. A pártatlan igazság Préseli ajkunkra mérgezett poharát. — Itt kétszeres a bizalma: rokona vagyok És alattvalója, ez kétszeresen mond Ellent a tettnek; énnekem kellene Házigazdaként a gyilkos elől Ajtó mögé zárnom, nemhogy még én Legyek, aki feni a kést. Aztán meg Ez a Duncan olyan jámbor lélek, Olyan tiszta király, hogy jósága, Mint angyal, harsonák hangján Taszít a kárhozatba, ami rám vár, Ha megölöm. És a szánalom, mint Csupasz újszülött viharfelhő hátán, Vagy mint ezer kerub, sok láthatatlan hírnök, A lég mennyei paripáin ülve, A rémes tettet úgy vágná szemünkbe, Hogy a szél könnyekbe fúl. Nincs sarkantyúm Hogy szándékom véknyát csiklandozzam, Csak a nagyravágyás, mely akkorát lendül, Hogy földre puffan a másik oldalon. �[Belép LADY MACBETH.] Mi van, mi újság? LADY MACBETH A vacsora végén tart. Miért jöttél ki? MACBETH Kérdezte, hol vagyok? LADY MACBETH Hát persze, nem tudod? MACBETH Ne bolygassuk tovább ezt az ügyet. Nemrég tüntetett ki, és mások is Csillogó meséket szőnek rólam, Még utolsó öltésük sincs rajta, Máris szaggassam szét? LADY MACBETH Túl mámoros volt talán a remény, Amibe burkolóztál? Vagy alszik Azóta is? És most fölébred, mint A zöldre sápadt másnaposság, és csak Bámul arra, amit örömmel vállalt? Mostantól így veszem, ha azt mondod: „szeretlek”. Hát félsz elszántan tenni is azért, Amiért a vágy gyötör? Életünk dísze Neked is éppúgy kell, de ehhez sehogy Sem illik ez a gyávaság, így élni Te is szégyellsz: mikor a „nem merem” Szolgál a „szeretném”-nek, ahogy A kényes macska mondja a mesében. MACBETH Kérlek, elég, Meg merem tenni, amit férfi merhet, Aki többet mer, nem is ember. LADY MACBETH Akkor biztos egy szörny volt, aki múltkor Tudtomra adta, mit határozott. Amikor merted: akkor voltál férfi, És mennyire férfi volnál akkor, Ha még több lennél, mint az akkori. Nem vágott egybe sem hely, sem idő: Te létrehoztad volna mind a kettőt. �Most egyszerre magukat megteremtik: Most ettől vagy oda. Szoptattam már, Tudom milyen egy kisbabát szeretni, De fogatlan szájából tépném ki A mellbimbómat, és míg mosolyog rám, Loccsantanám szét azt a kis fejét, Ha úgy adtam volna szavam, ahogy te. MACBETH És ha belebukunk? LADY MACBETH Mi? Belebukunk? Húzd pattanásig bátorságod íját, És nem bukunk el. Ha Duncan elalszik, – S hamar pihenni hívja a mai Hosszú út – a két testőrét borral És más főzetekkel úgy elkábítom, Hogy az emlékezet, az elme Gondnoka, csak pára lesz, és cseppenként jut Az ész lombikjába. Ha a két őr Kábán, mint az állat, elázva hever, Hullarészegen, akkor miénk A gyámoltalan Duncan, és rajta bármit Elvégezhetünk. És mészárlásunk Bűnét mért ne fognánk a jól bevedelt Testőreire? MACBETH Te csak fiút szülj, Rettenthetetlen, acélos anyagod Csak hímeket formálhat. Ha vérrel Mázoljuk be a két bent alvó őrt, S az ő tőrüket használjuk, elhiszik Ennyiből, hogy ők a tettesek? LADY MACBETH Mi mást hihetne bárki, ha halálán Őrjöngő gyászban jajveszékelünk? MACBETH Döntöttem és testemben minden ízem A szörnyű mutatványra ajzom fel. Gyere, Szép külső csalja meg most a jelent, Hamis arc rejtse, amit a rút szív Kijelent. II. felvonás �2.1. [Belép BANQUO és FLEANCE, az utóbbi fáklyát tart.] BANQUO Hány óra van, fiam? FLEANCE A hold lement; az óra nem ütött. BANQUO A hold ilyenkor éjfélkor megy le. FLEANCE Azt hiszem, ennél később van, uram. BANQUO Gyere, segíts levenni a kardom. – A mennyben fukarkodnak a fénnyel, Minden gyertyát elfújtak. – Ezt is fogd meg. Ólmos fáradság üli minden tagom, De nem tudok aludni. Adná az ég, Hogy ne kelljen nyomasztó sejtelmekkel Viaskodnom, melyeket a természet Épp alvás közben küld. [Belép MACBETH és egy SZOLGA fáklyával.] Ide a kardot – Ki az? Mit akar? MACBETH Jóbarát. BANQUO Hát nem alszol még, uram? A király Lefeküdt, szokatlanul vidám volt, A szolgáknak bő jutalmat osztott, A háziasszonyok gyöngyének pedig Ezt a gyémántot küldi, és igen Elégedetten zárta a napot. [Egy gyémántot ad át MACBETH-nek] Azaz sötét van, mert a holdat és a csillagokat felhők borítják. MACBETH A szándék szabadságát vétségek Nyomták el: készületlenek voltunk. �BANQUO Minden nagyon jó volt. — Múlt éjszaka A három vészlény zavarta álmomat; Volt igaz abban, amit neked mondtak. MACBETH Nem gondolok rájuk, de ha van egy Nyugalmas óra, szenteljünk néhány szót Ennek az ügynek, ha alkalmas neked. BANQUO Amikor neked is jó, örömmel. MACBETH Hidd el, csak becsületedre válhat, Ha te is azt gondolod, amit én. BANQUO Efelől nincs kétségem, persze majd Szabadon mondom, amit gondolok, S nyilvánvaló lesz, kihez vagyok hű. MACBETH Hát akkor — jó éjt. BANQUO Köszönöm, neked is. [BANQUO, FLEANCE el.] MACBETH [a SZOLGÁ-hoz]: Menj, kérd meg az úrnőd, hogy csengessen, Ha kész az italom. Aztán meg ágyba! [SZOLGA el.] Tőr az, amit magam előtt látok, Markolattal a tenyerem felé? Gyere, hadd kaplak el, Nem foglak még, de látlak. Halálos látvány, vajon érzékeimből Csak a látásomnak adod át magad? Vagy csupán az elme tőre volnál, Hamis csinálmány, ami a túlfűtött Agyból gőzölög elő? De látlak még, Olyan tapinthatóan, mint ezt a tőrt, Amit most húzok ki éppen. Úgy vezetsz, mintha tudnád, mit akartam, És ilyen eszköz kellett pont nekem. Szemem a többi érzékem bolondja, Vagy több, mint bármely másik. Látlak még, Pengéden és a markolaton vérfolt: Nem így volt eddig! — Ilyen dolog nincs. Szemem szokik a véres feladathoz. Most úgy tűnik, a világ egyik felén �A természet halott, s a gonosz álom Lopva kísérti az alvás függönyét. Boszorkány áldoz sápadt Hekaténak, A halványuló gyilkosságot farkas Üvölti talpra, a hű éjjeli őr; Mint kísértet, a gyilkos puhán lépdel, Elnyújtva, bűverővel, Tarquinius Nyomdokán. Lábam alatt te, kemény, Szikár föld, ne halld meg lépteim, Nehogy a kövek szólják el magukat, S a rettenet kiszökjön az időből, Most, amikor minden összevág. De csak fenyegetőzöm, ő meg él, Forró tettre minden szó jeges szél. Csengettyű szól. Megyek s megvan a tett. Hív a kis harang. Ne halld meg Duncan, mert ez kongatja el, Pokolra kerülsz-e, vagy mennybe fel. [El.] 2.2. [Belép LADY MACBETH.] LADY MACBETH Bátorrá tett, amitől ők berúgtak, Kialudtak — bennem ébred a tűz. [Bagolyhuhogás.] Csönd! Mi ez? Bagoly rikolt a sors őrjáratán, S kíván örök, végső jó éjszakát. Most, mindjárt megteszi! Az ajtó nyitva van. A két bódult Őr horkol, más bajt nem csinálhat. Olyan Szert tettem a pohárba, hogy vagy Élet várja őket, vagy halál, majd Meglátjuk, ki győz. [MACBETH belép a háttérben két véres tőrrel a kezében.] MACBETH Ki az? Mi történt? LADY MACBETH Mi van, ha felébredtek, és nem sikerült? Ha nincsen tett, csak bajt hoz ránk a próba. Csönd! A tőröket odakészítettem, Nem tévesztheti el. Ha nem hasonlít �Úgy alvó apámra, én teszem meg. Macbeth! MACBETH Megtettem. Meg! Hallottál valamit? LADY MACBETH Bagoly rikoltott, tücsök sírt, csak ennyit. Mondtál valamit? MACBETH Mikor? LADY MACBETH Most. MACBETH Ahogy bejöttem? LADY MACBETH Igen. MACBETH Hallgasd csak! Ki alszik a szomszédos szobában? LADY MACBETH Donalbain. MACBETH Szánalmas látvány. LADY MACBETH Ne mondj ilyet, ez ostobaság. MACBETH Az egyik felnevetett álmában, A másik meg azt kiáltja: „Gyilkos!” Fölébresztették egymást, ott álltam, Hallottam őket, de imádkozni kezdtek, S visszabújtak az ágyba. LADY MACBETH Ketten vannak abban a szobában. MACBETH „Isten, segíts” – szól az egyik, „Ámen”, Mondja a másik, mintha észrevennék A hóhér kezem. A borzongató �Fohászra nem ment az „Ámen”, pedig Próbáltam, mikor mondták: „Isten segíts!” LADY MACBETH Ne gyötörd magad ennyire. MACBETH De mért nem tudtam kimondani, „Ámen”? Segítség kellett volna fentről, De az „Ámen” a torkomban rekedt. LADY MACBETH Nem jó tetteinkről így gondolkodni, Mind a ketten beleőrülünk. MACBETH Hallottam, valaki azt kiáltja: „Ne aludj Tovább, Macbeth álmot öl”, az ártatlan Álmot, mely kisimítja a ráncokat A gondok zubbonyán, a mély álmot, Mely elveszi minden nap életét, Őrlődés gyógyfürdője, megrongált Elme balzsama, tápláló éltetőnk, A főfogás a természet asztalán. LADY MACBETH Mi van? Nem értem. MACBETH Az egész házban az visszhangzott: „Ne Aludj, Glamis álmot gyilkol, ezért Cawdor Sem alhat, Macbeth nem alhat többé.” LADY MACBETH Ugyan már, ki kiáltott volna? Drága thánom, csak pazarlod az erőd, Ha ilyen betegesen állítasz be Mindent. Hozz egy kis vizet és mosd le A kezedről ezt a mocskos tanút. A tőröket meg mért hoztad ide? Ott kellett volna hagyni. Vidd vissza, És mázold be az őrök arcát vérrel. MACBETH Nem megyek vissza! Rágondolni is félek, Hogy mit tettem, nem akarom látni, Nem merem. LADY MACBETH �Mennyire gyenge lettél! Kérem a tőröket! Az alvó vagy a holt Csak kép, semmi más, gyermeki szem fél A festett ördögtől. Ha vérzik még, Az ő vérével kenem be a két őrt, Ez lesz ellenük a koronatanú. [A tőrökkel el.] [Kopogás kintről.] MACBETH Mi ez a kopogás? Mi van velem, hogy Irtózom minden hangtól? Kié ez A kéz? Nézd, kivájja a szemem! Vajon Neptun hatalmas óceánja Tisztára mossa kezem ennyi vértől? Nem: ha minden tenger egyesül, Kezem vörösre festi azt a zöld vizet! [Belép Lady MACBETH.] LADY MACBETH A kezem olyan színű, mint a tiéd, De szégyellném, ha a szívem ijedten Sápadozna. [Kopogás kintről.] Kopogást hallok A déli kapun. Zárkózzunk a szobánkba, Nem kell sok víz, hogy lemossuk a tettet. Milyen könnyű lesz akkor! Téged viszont Elhagy minden erőd. [Kopogás kintről.] Hallgasd csak! Megint Kopognak. Vegyél hálóruhát, nehogy Azt higgyék, fent voltunk egész éjjel. Ne merülj el ennyire magadban. MACBETH Hogy megtudjam, mit tettem, legjobb volna, Ha már nem tudnám, ki vagyok. [Kopogás kintről.] Kopogj csak, ébreszd föl az alvó Duncant! Bárcsak lehetne. [Elmennek.] �2.3. [Belép a KAPUS. Kívülről kopogás.] KAPUS Itt aztán van kopogás: ha az ember a pokol kapujában őrködne, már rég elfordította volna a kulcsot. [Kopogás] Kip-kop. Ki az ott, Belzebub nevében? Itt jön egy módos gazda, aki felakasztotta magát, mert bő termést remélt. A legjobbkor jössz – remélem, van zsebkendőd, mert mész az izzasztóba. [Kopogás.] Kip-kop. Ki az ott… na, a… másik ördög nevében? Á, itt van egy mindent kimagyarázó… a csúsztatások mestere, aki esküdni is úgy tud, hogy az igazság mérlegén mindkét serpenyőt mozgásba hozza egymás ellen; épp elég árulást követett el Isten nevében, mégse tudta becsúsztatni magát a mennyországba. Na, gyere, kedves mester. [Kopogás.] Kip-kop. Ki van ott? De hiszen ez egy angol szabó, akinek épp most bújik ki az izéje a legutolsó francia divat szerint készült nadrágból. Gyere, szabó, itt megsütheted a libuskádat. [Kopogás.] Kip-kop. Hát már sohase lesz itten csend? Mégis, mit gondoltok, hol vagytok? De ez a hely nem lehet a pokol, ahhoz túl hideg. Elég volt az ördög-kapusságból. Csak néhány hivatalos csúsztatót akartam beengedni, akik puha rugózású hintón tartanak az örök máglya felé. [Kopogás.] Mindjárt,mindjárt, no; ejnye, de sürgős! Kérem, ne felejtkezzenek el a kapusról. [Belép MACDUFF és LENNOX.] MACDUFF Hogy van ez barátom, olyan késő volt, Mikor ágyba mentél, hogy most Korán van a késői kelés? KAPUS Parancsára, uram, a második kakasszóig mulattunk, és az ital, uram, három dolgot is felpiszkál. MACDUFF Na, mi az a három, amit az ital különösen felpiszkál? KAPUS Az az igazság uram, hogy az orrpirosítást, az alvást és a vizelést. Viszont ami a bujálkodást illeti, azt felpiszkálja és bepiszkítja: felpiszkálja a vágyat, de elmarad az előadás. Ezért aztán a sok italra lehet mondani, hogy értelmeinek megfelelően egy ivású, akarom �mondani egy ívású a bujasággal: felhevít-lekonyít, megrakatjaelrakatja, felcsinál-becsinál, megcsinálja-kicsinálja, feláll, de aztán meg leáll. Összefoglalva: az ivás és a bujaság együtt lefekteti az igazságot… aludni… oszt jó napot. MACDUFF Úgy látom, téged alaposan két vállra fektetett. KAPUS Ahogy mondja, uram, még a torkomat is szorongatta alulról, de aztán én torkoltam le, és azt hiszen, én voltam az erősebb, mert ugyan többször levett a lábamról… hányszor is? … minden esetre … hánytam, mert nem engedtem, hogy elszédítsen és megtévesszen ... szóval … lehánytam a lábam. [Belép MACBETH.] MACDUFF Felkelt a gazdád, úgy látom, Biztos a kopogás ébresztette fel, Itt jön. LENNOX Jó reggelt, uram! MACBETH Jó reggelt nektek is. MACDUFF Felkelt-e már a király, thán uram? MACBETH Még nem. MACDUFF Meghagyta, hogy jó időben keltsem. Majdnem késtem egy órát. MACBETH Máris viszlek hozzá. MACDUFF Tudom, hogy ez kedves kötelesség, De azért feladat. MACBETH Az ilyen munka éppen, hogy pihentet. Arra van az ajtaja. �MACDUFF Nem szívesen zavarom, de most ez A dolgom. [Kimegy.] LENNOX Már ma útnak indul a király? MACBETH Igen, így rendelkezett. LENNOX Ma éjjel minden nyugtalan volt, ahol Aludtunk, ledőlt a kémény, s azt mondják, Furcsa jajongást hordott-vitt a szél, Halálsikolyt, rémisztő szájból ömlő Jóslatot gomolygó zűrzavarról, Amikor események roncsait Sodorja bús korunk. A vészmadár Zengett az életünkre örökös Éjszakát. Azt rebesgetik, a föld Belázasodott, rázta a hideg. MACBETH Nehéz éjszaka volt. LENNOX Nem éltem még sokat, de ilyenre Nem emlékszem. [Belép MACDUFF.] MACDUFF Iszony! Iszony! Iszony! Nincs rá a szívben kép, a nyelvben szó! MACBETH és LENNOX Miért, mi történt? MACDUFF A romlás megalkotta mesterművét. Szentséggyalázó gyilkosság törte Át az Úr magasztos házának falát, S ellopta az építmény életét. MACBETH Mit mondtál? Életét? LENNOX Csak nem felséges urunkról beszélsz? �MACDUFF Menjetek be, és nézzetek egy új Gorgó szemébe, csak nehogy kőszobor Legyen belőletek. Nincsen szavam, Lássatok és beszéljetek ti. [MACBETH és LENNOX el.] Felkelni, felkelni, Harangot félre verni, gyilkosság és Felségárulás! Banquo és Donalbain, Malcolm, mindenki fel, az álmot, A halál ábrázatát, vessétek le, Mert valóság vár: maga a halál, A végítélet képe. Keljetek már, Hé, Malcolm, Banquo, mint sírból jövő Szellemek siessetek, a rettenet Ezt kívánja. [Félreverik a harangot. Belép LADY MACBETH.] LADY MACBETH Ki fújja itt a borzalom kürtjelét, Amitől összecsődül az egész Alvó ház? Beszélj már! Beszélj! MACDUFF Ó, asszonyom, Az én szavam most nem hölgynek való, Egy nő fülébe jutva újra ölne, És úgy pottyanna ki. [Belép BANQUO.] Ó, Banquo, Banquo, Felséges királyunkat meggyilkolták. LADY MACBETH Jaj nekem, borzalom, Itt, a mi kastélyunkban? BANQUO Ez bárhol iszonyat. Kedves Macduff, Vond vissza a szavad, és mondd, Hogy nem igaz. [Belép MACBETH és LENNOX.] �MACBETH Ha egy órával ezelőtt meghalok, Boldogan éltem volna. Mostantól Semmi sem komoly itt, a földi létben. Minden játékszer, halott a rang, a fény, Az élet borát lefejték, csak sűrű Alja az ég büszkesége. [Bejön MALCOLM és DONALBAIN.] DONALBAIN Valaki rosszul van? MACBETH Ti vagytok, csak még nem tudjátok. A véretek forrása, kútfeje Elapadt, maga az élet-kút Apadt ki. MACDUFF Apátokat megölték. MALCOLM Kicsoda? LENNOX Minden jel azt mutatja, az őrök Tették, a belső emberek. Sok vér Csúfítja arcuk és kezük, a két Véres tőrt párnájukon megtaláltuk, Le sem törölték; csak bámultak bután, Nem lett volna szabad megbízni bennük. MACBETH Mennyire bánom már, hogy haragomban Mindkettőt megöltem. MACDUFF Hogyan tehetted ezt? MACBETH Ki tud egyszerre bölcs és dühös lenni, Kábultan mérlegelni hűség és jog között? Az nem is ember. Vad szeretetem Meglódult, nem lassította ész. Ott Feküdt Duncan, ezüstös bőrét arany Csipkével verte ki a vér, s mint hitszegés A természettel szemben, egy-egy tátongó Sebe omladék volt, melyen betört �A rontás. S a gyilkosok mesterségük Bíborában; a tőrök markolatig Ragacsosak a vértől – nem, itt nem Volt visszaút annak, aki igazán Szerette, s tudta, hogy ezt bátorsággal Hogyan mutassa ki. LADY MACBETH Segítség, jaj! MACDUFF Valaki segítsen. [LADY MACBETH kimegy, támogatják.] MALCOLM [DONALBAIN-hez] Mondd, miért nem moccan a nyelvünk,holott Az ügy leginkább minket érint? DONALBAIN [MALCOLM-hoz] Mit mondhatnánk, ha itt minden odúban Végzet ülhet, hogy lecsapjon ránk? Meneküljünk. A könnyet forralni kell. MALCOLM [DONALBAIN-hez] A mély gyász még csak álldogál szívünkben. BANQUO Nézzük meg, hogy van a Lady. S ha úrrá lettünk kissé fájdalmunkon, Tanácskozzunk, és hatoljunk a véres Tett mélyére. Kétely és félelem Gyötör mindannyiunkat. De a nagy Isten színe előtt állva keresem A rejtett indítékot, harcolok Az áruló gonosz ellen. MACDUFF Én is! MIND Én is, én is! MACBETH Vegyünk magunkra emberibb ruhát, És találkozzunk kint, a nagyteremben. MIND �Helyes, helyes. [Mindenki kimegy, kivéve MALCOLM-ot és DONALBAIN-t.] MALCOLM Te mit teszel most? Ne menjünk közéjük, Nem érzett bánat könnyen tettethető; Rossz ember ebből él. Átszököm Angliába. DONALBAIN Én meg Írországba. Ha elválunk, A biztonság nagyobb. Itt minden ember Tőrt rejt mosolyában, egy vérrokon Könnyen véres lehet. MALCOLM A gyilkos nyíl Az íj idegén ül még, mi ne legyünk A céltáblájukon. Nyergeljünk gyorsan, Hosszasan nem búcsúzunk, elsurranunk. Senki sem tolvaj, ha életét lopja: Magát fogja ki, ha valami foglya. 2.4. [Belép ROSS egy ÖREGEMBER-rel.] ÖREG Az elmúlt hetven évre jól emlékszem, Vaskos kötet ez a hosszú idő, Megéltem szörnyű, különös dolgokat, De a múlt éjjelhez egyik sem fogható. ROSS A menny, jó öreg, bizony ránk ijeszt: Borzasztja, hogyan alakít az ember Ezen a lenti, véres színpadon. Most nappal volna, de az úti lámpást Elfojtja a sötét. Túl sok az éj, Vagy a nap szégyenkezik, hogy a föld Arcát sötét földeli el, és nem Csókolhatja élénk sugarával? ÖREG Ez éppúgy természetellenes, mint a Tett, ami megtörtént. Múlt kedden is egy Sólyom büszkén szárnyalt, toronymagasan, Egerésző bagoly csapott le rá, És megölte. �ROSS És Duncan lovai – tényleg rendkívüli – Mind gyors és pompás, fajtájuk legjava, Visszavadultak, s béklyót szakítva, Istállót törve úgy lázadtak fel, mint Aki ember ellen visel háborút. ÖREG Azt mondják, fel is falták egymást. ROSS Így volt, csak bámultam a döbbenettől. [Belép MACDUFF.] ROSS Nahát, itt a jó Macduff. Mondd, mi újság? MACDUFF Kérlek: csak nézz körül. ROSS Tudják-e már Ki tette ezt a több, mint véres tettet? MACDUFF Az őrök, akiket Macbeth megölt. ROSS Micsoda nap; volt okuk vagy mentségük? MACDUFF Pénzért csinálták. Malcolm és Donalbain, A két királyfi titokban megszökött, Ezért gyanítható erősen, hogy Kik a tettesek. ROSS Még több lázadás ez A természet ellen. Pazarló A becsvágy, amely épp azt rontja, Amiből épült. Valószínű tehát, Hogy a királyság most Macbethre száll. MACDUFF Nevét már kihirdették, és Scone-ba Ment, hogy beiktassák. �ROSS És Duncan teste hol van? MACDUFF Colmkillbe vitték, Minden ősének csontja ott pihen. ROSS Te elmész Scone-ba? MACDUFF Nem, haza tartok, Fife-ba, jó rokon. ROSS Én viszont Scone-ba. MACDUFF Bárcsak mindent rendben találnál ott. Jó utat, aztán nehogy az új köpeny Rosszabb legyen majd, mint a megkopott. ROSS Szerencsés utat, jó öreg. ÖREG Az Isten áldjon, utad ott vigyen át, Ahol a rosszból jó lesz, ellenségből Meg barát. III. felvonás 3.1. [Belép BANQUO lovaglóruhában.] BANQUO Hát most tiéd lett: király vagy, Glamis, Cawdor, minden, ahogy a vészlények Ígérték; s félek, iszonyú rút volt Ez a játék. De azt is mondták, te itt Megállsz, és én leszek királyok őse. Ha nem hazudtak – Macbeth, te fürdesz Szavaik fényében – és te magad vagy A bizonyíték, az igazolás. Mért ne válna be nekem is a jóslat? Hadd reménykedjem! De csönd, itt jön. [Kürtszó – belép MACBETH mint király, LADY MACBETH királynőként, LENNOX, ROSS, urak és kísérők.] �MACBETH Itt a fővendég! LADY MACBETH Ha nem találjuk meg, Hiányzott volna a lakománkról, S minden rosszul sül el. MACBETH Ma este, uram, díszvacsora lesz, Kérlek, legyél jelen. BANQUO Rendelkezz velem, Felség; a kötelesség örökös Kapocs: nem szakít el tőled. MACBETH Ma délután kilovagolsz? BANQUO Igen, uram. MACBETH Ha nem mennél, a mai tanácskozáson Kikérnénk mindig megfontolt és okos Véleményed, de akkor inkább holnap. Messze mész? BANQUO Olyan messze, uram, hogy Épp visszatérhetek a vacsorára. Ha lassabb a lovam, kénytelen leszek Az éjjeltől egy-két sötét órát Kölcsönkérni. MACBETH De nehogy elmaradj a vacsoráról! BANQUO Semmiképp nem tenném, uram. MACBETH Azt halljuk, vérszagú öcséink Bujkálnak Angliában és Írországban, Tagadják az apagyilkosságot, S furcsa mesékkel tömik mások fülét. De erről holnap, ez mindannyiunkat �Érintő államügy. Fáradj lovadhoz, Minden jót, amíg meg nem jössz ma éjjel. Fiad, Fleance veled megy? BANQUO Igen, uram, de már indulnunk kell. MACBETH Száguldjatok, lovatok ne botoljon, Erős hátukra bízlak, jó utat! [BANQUO el.] Most hétig mindenki a maga ura, Tegyétek, ami tetszik, annál is Édesebb lesz, ha újra látjuk egymást. Vacsoráig visszavonulunk; addig Az Isten áldjon. [Mind kimennek, kivéve MACBETH-et és egy SZOLGÁ-t.] [A SZOLGÁ-hoz.] Hé, te, állj csak meg, itt vannak már, Akiket idehívtam? SZOLGA Igen, uram, A kastélykapu előtt várakoznak. MACBETH Kísérd be őket. [SZOLGA el.] Így lenni semmi; De biztonságban lenni: az a kérdés. A félelem Banquótól bennem ragadt; Királyi jellemében trónol az, Ami mélyembe vág. Sok mindent meg mer Tenni, higgadt elmével, és olyan Bölcsességgel, amely a tetteit Biztonságos irányba tereli. Más lénye nem nyomaszt, csak az övé, Jelenlétében szellemem eltompul, Mint mondják, Marcus Antoniusé, Ha Caesar vele volt. Mikor először Neveztek királynak, rászólt a nővérekre: Neki beszéljenek, s e vészpróféták Úgy köszöntötték, hogy királyok sorát Nemzi majd. Az én fejemre pedig �Meddő koronát, markomba kiszáradt Jogart tettek, s kezemből kitépték A folytatás és siker fonalát. Nem lesz fiam, aki követne a trónon. Ha így van, Banquo gyermekeiért Mocskoltam be magam, őértük lettem A jó és áldott Duncan gyilkosa, Őértük került gennyes gyűlölet Békém poharába, s dobtam a lelkem Az emberfaló, sátáni kárhozatba. Királlyá tettem őket, Banquo magjait! Kihívom inkább a Sorsot viadalra A legvégsőkig tartó küzdelemben. Ki az ott? [Belép a SZOLGA két GYILKOS-sal.] [A SZOLGÁ-hoz] Most őrizd az ajtót, amíg nem szólok. [A GYILKOS-okhoz] Nem tegnap beszélgettünk utoljára? GYILKOSOK De igen, felség. MACBETH Hát mit gondoltok arról, amit mondtam? Értsétek meg: nem én, hanem ő volt, aki a múltban szerencsétlenné tett titeket, ti azonban engem, az ártatlant gyanúsítjátok. A múltkor ezt elég érthetően elmagyaráztam: bizonyítékokat mutattam, hogyan tévesztett meg és csapott be. Láttátok ügynökei listáját, és hogy azok kikkel működtek együtt, és minden egyebet, amiből egy félkegyelmű vagy nagyon ostoba is megállapíthatja, hogy „mindezt Banquo tette”. ELSŐ GYILKOS Igen, tudattad velünk, uram. MACBETH De még mennyire, sőt tovább is mentem, és mai találkozónknak ez a tárgya. Vajon annyira túlteng természetetekben a türelem, hogy inkább mindent hagynátok ennyiben? Annyira átjár az evangéliumi szellem, hogy inkább imádkoztok ezért a jó emberért és minden utódjáért, érte, akinek kemény keze alatt görbült a hátatok, aki a sírba taszít, és örökre földönfutóvá tette a családotokat? ELSŐ GYILKOS Mi férfiak vagyunk, uralkodóm. MACBETH Igen, a „férfi” gyűjtőnév alatt Szerepeltek, ahogy „kutya” az agár, �A korcs, a spániel, a keverék, A loncsos szőrű és a vízi eb, Meg a félig farkas: ezeket mind Kutyának hívjuk. Becses tanulmányok Tesznek különbséget a gyors, a lassú, Az okos, a házőrző és vadászeb Között, megemlítve az ajándékot, Melyet a bőkezű természet zárt Beléjük: ez által mindegyikben van Valami többlet, amikor az azonos neműek Lajstromán megjelennek. A férfival Sincs másképp. Ha tehát fent vagytok A listán, és nem a férfinem legalján Tartanak számon, nyilatkozzatok, S a lelketekre bízom az ügyet; Gyors végrehajtás, s eltűnt az ellenség; Mi meg szívünkbe zárunk. Az életet Addig betegen viselem, amíg Nem gyógyítja meg az ő halála. MÁSODIK GYILKOS Felség, egyként a sok közül, akit Ütött-vert a világ, nem érdekel, Dühömben mit csinálok, csak árthassak Neki. ELSŐ GYILKOS Csatlakozom: sok baj szakadt Fejemre, fáraszt, hogy huzakodjam A szerencsével; vagy kijavítom Az életem, vagy elhajítom. MACBETH Tudjátok Akkor, ki az ellenség: Banquo. GYILKOSOK Úgy van, uram. MACBETH Az enyém is. Köztünk olyan Véres a szakadás, hogy léte minden Perce egy-egy döfés oda, ahol Leginkább élek. Elsöpörhetném Puszta tekintetemmel, hatalmas Akaratom percnyi szeszélyeként, De nem szabad, mert van néhány közös Barátunk, a pártfogásuk fontos, Ezért majd velük gyászolom, ámbár �Én sújtom le. Ezért udvarlok Segítségetekért, s rejtjük az ügyet A köznép szeme elől: súlyos és Nyomós okaink vannak. MÁSODIK GYILKOS Megtesszük, Uram, amit nekünk parancsolsz. ELSŐ GYILKOS Még ha az életünk… MACBETH Lelketek tüze átsüt rajtatok. Egy órán belül kaptok utasítást, Hogy hol álljatok lesben, tudatom A helyes időzítést, a legjobb Percet, mert ma éjjel kell megtennetek. Menjetek a kastélytól távolabb; Tudjátok: árnyék rám nem vetülhet. És vele együtt – hogy folt vagy botlás Ne csúfítsa a munkát – abban az órában Fiát, Fleance-t is várja ez a sors: A fiú hű társa, és hogy ne legyen, Éppúgy életbevágó. Ki-ki készülődjön, Mindjárt jövök. GYILKOSOK Nem hagyunk cserben, jó uram. MACBETH Üzenek hamar: maradjatok a közelben. [GYILKOSOK kimennek.] Döntöttünk. Banquo, ha lelked a menny várja, Ma éjjel van esély a nagy utazásra. 3.2. [Belép LADY MACBETH és egy SZOLGA.] LADY MACBETH Banquo nincs a kastélyban? SZOLGA Nincs, asszonyom, de ma éjjel visszajön. LADY MACBETH �Mondd meg a királynak, hogy néhány szót Kívánok váltani vele. SZOLGA Igenis, asszonyom. LADY MACBETH Semmink sincs, a tönk szélén állunk, Ha belül üres az, amire vágytunk. Nagyobb biztonság kárvallottnak lenni, Mint vallani: kár így örömöt venni. [Belép MACBETH.] Mi van veled, mért vonulsz mindig el, Mért választasz rémképet társadul? Gyötrődsz magadban; ha halottra gondolsz, Engedd, hadd haljon vele a gondolat. Ha nincs ellenszer, kár tovább vesződni, Ha megtettük: nem lehet nem megtenni. MACBETH A kígyóba csak belevágtunk, nem Öltük meg; összeforr, tekergőzik, És balfogásainkba újranőtt Fogát vájja. De forduljon ki négy Sarkából minden, legyen nyomorult A menny és a föld, mielőtt rettegve Eszünk-iszunk; lidérces álmok nem Dúlhatják reszkető éjszakáink. Feküdjünk együtt inkább a halottal Akit, hogy jobb legyen létünk, jobblétre Segítettünk, minthogy az elme kínja Rázzon önkívületbe. Duncan ott Lenn a sírban. Békésen alszik, nyugszik Az elevenség lázai után. Az árulás Ártott igazán, de már sem acél, Sem méreg, sem hadak, sem belviszály, Semmi nem érheti többé. LADY MACBETH Drága jó királyom, térj magadhoz, Simítsd ki gyűrött arcod, légy ma vidám És önfeledt a vendégek között. MACBETH Így lesz, szerelmem, de kérlek, légy te is. Külön ügyelj Banquóra, tüntesd ki Figyelmeddel, barátságos szavakkal. �Míg nincs biztonság, rangunkból áradjon A megnyerő hízelgés; szívünk elé Arcunkat mint maszkot tartsuk, S ne lássanak az álruhánk mögé. LADY MACBETH Hagy abba! Most azonnal! MACBETH Skorpiók nyüzsögnek a fejemben, Szerelmem! Tudod: Banquo és Fleance él! LADY MACBETH Ők is halandó példányai a természetnek. MACBETH Van megoldás, igen: sebezhetőek; Tehát örülj: mielőtt romfalak közt Csapong a denevér, mielőtt csúf Ganajbogár indul álmosan dongva A sötét Hekatéhoz az éjszaka Tátongó üregét zengetve, Egy tett történik: neve is iszonyat. LADY MACBETH Miféle tett? MACBETH Drága csibém, neked nem kell még tudni Erről; majd tapsolhatsz előadás után. Gyere, vaksötét éjjel, bogozz Kendőt nappalunk párás, bús szemére, És vértől síkos, láthatatlan kézzel Tépd cafatokra azt a szövetséget, Mely napról napra sápadtabbá tesz. Sűrűbb a szürkület; varjúhad száll, Megtér a károgó vadonba; ami Ma szép volt, bágyadtan konyul le; Az éj sötét erői ólálkodnak, nézik, Merre az áldozat. Csodálkozol? A szavam ne feledd; maradj elszánt, További bajjal gyógyítjuk, ami bánt. Kérlek, gyere velem. 3.3. [Belép három GYILKOS.] ELSŐ GYILKOS �De ki utasított, hogy velünk gyere? HARMADIK GYILKOS Macbeth. MÁSODIK GYILKOS Megbízhatsz benne. Őt küldték, hogy elmondja pontról pontra, Mi most a dolgunk. ELSŐ GYILKOS [A HARMADIK GYILKOS-nak.] Na, jól van, csatlakozhatsz. Nyugat felől még dereng egy kis fény. Kései utas ilyenkor igyekszik A legközelebbi fogadóba. Mindjárt jön, akire várunk. HARMADIK GYILKOS Csönd, ez lódobogás! BANQUO [Kívülről.] Hé, világítson itt már valaki! MÁSODIK GYILKOS Ez ő lesz, a többi vendég Megérkezett, és be is mentek. ELSŐ GYILKOS Leszálltak a lóról. HARMADIK GYILKOS Lehet, még majdnem egy mérföldre vannak; Ő is, mint mindenki, onnan gyalog jön A kastélykapuig. [Belép BANQUO és FLEANCE, fáklyákkal.] MÁSODIK GYILKOS Vigyázat! Fáklya! HARMADIK GYILKOS Ő az! ELSŐ GYILKOS Essünk neki. BANQUO Ma éjjel esni fog. �ELSŐ GYILKOS De még mennyire! [A GYILKOSOK támadnak. Az ELSŐ GYILKOS kioltja a fáklyát.] BANQUO Árulás! Menekülj, drága Fleance, menekülj, szaladj! Talán majd bosszút állsz. – Te aljas….! [Meghal. FLEANCE elmenekül.] HARMADIK GYILKOS Ki ütötte le a fáklyát? ELSŐ GYILKOS Nem erről volt szó? HARMADIK GYILKOS Csak egy fekszik itt; a fiú megszökött. MÁSODIK GYILKOS Csak félmunkát végeztünk. ELSŐ GYILKOS Arról tegyünk jelentést, amit tettünk. 3.4. [Díszvacsorára készülnek. Két trónszéket helyeznek a színpadra. Bejön MACBETH mint Király, LADY MACBETH mint Királyné, ROSS, LENNOX, URAK és személyzet. LADY MACBETH leül.] MACBETH Ismeritek az ülésrendet, foglaljatok helyet rang szerint; a legkisebbet is hozta Isten. [URAK leülnek] URAK Köszönjük, felség. MACBETH A magunk szerény személye majd közétek ül, a gondos házigazda szerepében. Háziasszonyunk helyén marad, de alkalomadtán őt is ide hívjuk. LADY MACBETH �Kérlek, uram, hirdesd ki minden itt lévő barátunknak szívből jövő jókívánságaim. [Belép az ELSŐ GYILKOS.] MACBETH [LADY MACBETH-hez] Fogadd szívük mélyéről érkező Hálás pillantásuk. Ugyanannyi vendég Van mindkét oldalon; majd ide ülök, Középre. Mulassatok vidáman, Mindannyian emeljük poharunk! [Az ELSŐ GYILKOS-hoz]: Vér van az arcodon. ELSŐ GYILKOS Akkor az Banquoé. MACBETH Jobb egészben itt, mint az ő bőrében. Elintéztétek? ELSŐ GYILKOS Magam végeztem el a torokmetszést. MACBETH Te vagy a legeslegjobb gégevágó. De az se rossz, aki Fleance-szal tette; Ha te voltál, tényleg páratlan vagy. ELSŐ GYILKOS Felséges úr, Fleance elmenekült. MACBETH Akkor újra rám tör a roham. Másként Én lennék maga a tökély, kőkemény Márvány gránit sziklatömbön, a tág, A mindenségben áramló levegő; Most megcsonkítva szűk odúba zártak, Vigyorgó kétely, rettegés köt gúzsba. De Banquo biztos? ELSŐ GYILKOS Igen, uram, egy mély és biztos árok Magányos lakója, húsz mély barázda Húzódik fején: már egy halálos. MACBETH Ezt nagyon köszönöm. A hosszabb kígyó Mélybe vettetett; a kisebb féreg Most még ártalmatlan, de kinő �Idővel a méregfoga. Most menj, Holnap majd hallasz rólunk. [AZ ELSŐ GYILKOS el.] LADY MACBETH Felséges úr, Vendégeidet elhanyagolod. Csak ímmel-ámmal nyelik le az ételt, Ha nem fűszerezi szívélyes kínálás. Legízesebb a falat háziasan: Mostantól a hús mellé jókedv-szósz jár, Anélkül száraz az ilyen lakoma. [Belép BANQUO szelleme és leül MACBETH helyére.] MACBETH Kedves, hogy emlékeztetsz! Jó emésztés szolgálja az étvágyat, S mindkettőt jó egészség! LENNOX Foglaljon helyet, felséges urunk. MACBETH Országunk színe-javát ölelné A ház, ha nem nélkülöznénk Banquo Jelenlétét. Remélem, egyszerűen Illem ellen vét, s nem kell aggódnom, Hogy valami baj érte. ROSS Hiánya, uram, Ígéretére cáfol. Felséged Megtisztelné társaságunkat? MACBETH Már mindenütt ülnek. LENNOX Itt még van egy fenntartott, üres hely. MACBETH Hol? LENNOX Itt, itt, uram. Felséged rosszul van? MACBETH �Melyikőtök csinálja ezt velem? URAK Mit, drága felség? MACBETH [BANQUO szelleméhez] Nem mondhatod, hogy én tettem; ne rázd A véres fürtjeid felém! ROSS Gyerünk, urak, királyunk nincsen jól. LADY MACBETH Barátaink, üljetek vissza. Férjemet Hasonló rohamok ifjúkorától Gyötrik. Nyugalom: egy gondolatnyi, Röpke pillanat, és máris jól lesz. Ha nézitek, csak ront a helyzetén, És megbántjátok. Egyetek inkább, Ne vegyetek róla tudomást. [MACBETH-hez]: Férfi vagy te? MACBETH Bizony, Olyan, aki meg meri bámulni, Amitől ördög irtózva borzad el. LADY MACBETH Nagyon megható! A félelmed festette ezt a képet; A légben mozgó tőr is onnan ered: Erről mondtad, hogy Duncanhez vezetett. Csak borzongás ez, üres szörnyülködés, Valódi rettenet utánzata; Dajkák meséje ijeszt így egy téli Éjszakán a kandalló tüzénél, Nagymamák örömére. Szégyen, szégyen; Mért vágsz ilyen arcot? Mit csinálsz? Csupán Egy széket bámulsz! MACBETH Könyörgök, nézd már! Oda, oda nézz! Hogy mondod? Miért, mi közöm hozzá? Ha bólogatni tudsz, nyisd ki a szád! Ha sírkamrák és temetők a holtat Visszaküldik, keselyűk gyomra lesz A síremlékünk. �[A BANQUO szelleme eltávozik.] LADY MACBETH Bolond vagy? Légy már férfi! MACBETH Úgy láttam, ahogy most előtted állok. LADY MACBETH Fúj, micsoda szégyen! MACBETH Ember embernek vérét ősidők Óta ontja; ma már a törvény védi Az életet, mégis megesnek szörnyű, Elmondhatatlan gyilkosságok. De Mindig úgy volt: ha az agy kiloccsant, Az ember meghalt, ennyi volt és kész. Most a holtak újra járnak, fejükön Húsz végzetes vágással, és székedről Lelöknek. Megfoghatatlanabb, mint Bármilyen gyilkosság. LADY MACBETH Drága királyom, Hiányolnak nemes barátaid. MACBETH Igen, elfeledtem… Barátaim, ne csodálkozzatok, Szokatlan nyavalyám semmi komoly, Ha jól ismertek. Gyertek, igyunk csak, Szeressük egymást, egészségetekre, Aztán majd leülök. Bort ide, hé! [Megjelenik BANQUO Szelleme.] Az egész asztal egészségére, És Banquóéra, aki úgy hiányzik! Bárcsak itt lenne! Rátok és rá iszom! URAK [Felállnak, emelik poharukat, isznak] Szolgálatunk és hűségünk jeléül! MACBETH Menj el, ne lássalak! Takarjon föld! Csontod velőtlen, valótlan a véred, S nem látsz, hiába nézel bámuló �Szemeddel! LADY MACBETH Férjem viselkedését vegyétek Rossz szokásnak; egy kissé kellemetlen, Semmi több. MACBETH Merem, amit egy férfi mer: Gyere, mint nagymérgű, orosz medve, Orrszarvú fenevad, vicsorgó, kászpi tigris, Vagy legyél más alakban, mint ez itt: Acélos inaim nem rezdülnének meg. Vagy támadj fel, és hívj ki egy szál kardra A pusztaságban; ha reszketnék, bent Csendben meghúzódom, te meg kiáltsd: Babázzon vele kisleány! [BANQUO Szelleméhez:] El innen, Szörnyű árny, valóság romlott képe. [BANQUO Szelleme eltűnik] Hogy elmentél, megint ember vagyok. [A vendégekhez:] Ne álljatok fel. LADY MACBETH Odalett minden mulatság, Csodálatos felfordulást rendeztél! MACBETH Ha van ilyen jelenség, És, mint nyári felhő, ránk telepszik, Ne tüntessük-e ki csodálatunkkal? Úgy mutatsz, mint idegent önmagamnak; Hogy maradhat rubinpiros az arcod, Ha az enyém fehér a félelemtől? ROSS Milyen jelenségről van szó, jó uram? LADY MACBETH A sok beszéd zavarja, rosszabbul van, A kérdések feldühítik. Nem kell Rang szerint kivonulni, menjetek Gyorsan, szép jó éjszakát. LENNOX Jó éjt, s jobb egészséget felséges Urunknak! �LADY MACBETH Jó éjt mindenkinek! [Mind kimennek, kivéve MACBETH-et és LADY MACBETH-et] MACBETH Azt mondják, vért kíván: a vér vért kíván. Volt, hogy mozdult a kő, a fák beszéltek, Fecsegő szarka, holló- és varjúhad A látnokoknak értelmére adta A legkörmönfontabb, legrejtettebb Gyilkosságokat. Virrad? Vagy éjjel van? LADY MACBETH Versengve tanakodnak, melyik: melyik. MACBETH Mit szólsz, hogy Macduff nem jött el, holott Többször is hívtuk? LADY MACBETH Járt nála valaki? MACBETH Pletykálnak ezt-azt, majd üzenek neki. Mindegyik házban szolgál egy fizetett Besúgóm. Holnap korán megyek A vészlényekhez. Többet kell mondjanak, Mert tudni akarom a legszörnyűbbet, Akár a legszörnyűbb áron; mostantól Minden engedjen nekem. A vérben Olyan mélyen gázolok, hogy előre Vagy épp vissza egyformán körülményes. Fejem furcsán utasítja a kezem, Ha lelepleznek, elbukom szerepem. LADY MACBETH Ami neked kell: fűszerünk, az alvás. MACBETH Gyere aludni. Mint idegen nézem, hogy megyek tönkre, Új rettegőnek kell a kemény lecke. – A tettet és a tettetést csak most kezdtük. 3.5. [Mennydörgés. Belép a három BOSZORKÁNY, és találkoznak HEKATÉ-val.] �ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Mért ilyen dúlt az arcod, Hekaté? HEKATÉ Joggal haragszom, arcátlan személyek, Macbethtel levetek összeszűrtétek, Feladni így rejtvényeket Halálról hogyan mertetek? Míg én, varázsló mesternő, Ki bajt, ragályt titokban sző, Nem játszhattam el szerepem, Elhalványult művészetem. S mindezt kiért? Vajon ki érti? Emberetek zavaros férfi, Bosszúálló, és mint az átlag, Nem nektek él, csupán magának. Tegyétek jóvá, holnap rátok A mély Acheron partján várok, Ő is ott lesz, már kora reggel: A sorsát tudni vágyó ember. Minden legyen: varázs, csalétek, Ráolvasás és jósedények. Most levegőbe! Az éjszakát Komor végzettel hatom át, Dolgozom, míg eljön a dél. A holdon van egy sarok-él, Azon gyűlik egy csepp, kövér, Elkapom, mielőtt földet ér; Varázzsal párlom jó előre, Látvány gőzölög fel belőle, Tudd a káprázat erejét, És megzavarjuk a fejét. Halálát, végzetét nem féli, Vágyait valóságnak véli. Tudjuk jól, a halandó vágya És ellensége a biztonsága. Kintről zeneszó, és egy dal: „Gyere, gyere, Hekaté…”. De hívnak most, nézd, az a kicsi szellem Ködös felhőn ül, és fenn vár engem. [Elmegy.] ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Gyerünk, siessük, különben visszajön. Mind el. 3.6. �[Belép LENNOX és egy másik NEMES ÚR.] LENNOX Talán nem gondoltad még át, amit A múltkor mondtam, most annyit csak, Hogy ez az egész roppant különös. Az tény, hogy Macbeth megsiratta a jó És áldott Duncant, de gyilkosság volt, ez Is tény. A bátor Banquo kint járt még Késő éjjel; mondhatod, persze, hogy Fleance ölte meg, hiszen elmenekült. Ne járkáljunk későn odakint. Ki Tagadhatná, milyen szörnyűség, hogy Malcolm és Donalbain megölte jó És áldott apját? Ez megveszekedett Tény; Macbeth pedig meggyászolta. Vagy Szent dühében nem szaggatta-e szét A két ittas és álomittas őrt? Ugye, nemes tett volt? És mennyire Bölcs egyben: felháborodott volna Az égő szív, ha az őrök tagadnak. Tehát azt mondom: mindent jól csinált, S ha foglya lett volna a két királyfi – Ettől az Isten óvjon –, megtanulták Volna, mi az: apát ölni. És Fleance is. Sőt, Macduffról is azt hallom, kegyvesztett Lett: túl egyenes volt a zsarnokkal, és Nem vett részt a lakomáján. Uram, Elárulnád, hogy Macduff hol van most? NEMES ÚR Duncan fia, akit ez a zsarnok A születési jogától megfosztott, Angliában él; a roppant ájtatos Edvárd király olyan kegyelmesen Fogadta, hogy önérzetét nem kezdte Ki a rossz szerencse. Macduff a szent Királyhoz utazott, segítse harcba Hívni Northumberlandet és vitéz Siwardot, hogy úgy legyen, mint régen – Ha a fentiek is úgy akarják –, Díszítse újra hús az asztalunkat, Alvás az éjszakát, és véres kések Ne zavarják esti lakomáink. Hűséges tisztelet és szabadon Szolgáló hűség legyen részünk: ez nincs most. A hírek felingerelték Macbethet, És háborúra készül. �LENNOX Ő küldött Macduffért? NEMES ÚR Pontosan, s mikor egy határozott „Nem én, uram”-ot kapott válaszul A borús küldönc, azonnal hátat Fordít, és dúdolgat, azt sejtetve: „Megbánod te még ezt a léha percet, Egy sótlan választ így nyakamba sózni!” LENNOX Ez majd, remélem, Macduffnak azt súgja, Hogy legyen óvatos, és bölcsességgel Tartson távolságot. Egy szent angyal Repüljön Angliába, s mielőtt Macduff megérkezne, az udvarnak Hirdesse üzenetünk; őt meg áldás Lendítse haza, szenvedő hazánkba, Melyre elátkozott kéz tenyerel. NEMES ÚR Én is vele küldöm hő imám. IV. felvonás 4.1. [Mennydörgés. Belép a három BOSZORKÁNY egy üsttel.] ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Hármat nyávogott a macska, Csíkos, cirmos, tarka-barka! MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Háromszor és még egyszer Sivít a sün: ez a jel! HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Hárpia, a jótevőnk, Rikolt: Eljött az időnk! ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Körbe keringj, üst körül, Minden méreg lemerül. Síkos varangy első falat, Szunnyadt jeges kövek alatt, Éjjel, nappal, csukott szemmel, Mérget izzadt, harmincegyszer. �MIND Dobja jobbra, dobja balra, Láng dagassza, üstje falja. MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Lápi kígyó egy gerezdje Lesz az üstlébe eresztve, Béka ujja, gőte szeme, Bőregérbőr, kutya nyelve, Vakféregfog, kígyómarás, Gyíkláb, kuvikszárny: üstvarázs, Rontásra rémigét keress, Bugyogj és forrj, pokolleves! MIND Dobja jobbra, dobja balra, Láng dagassza, üstje falja. HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Sárkánypikkely, farkas foga, Múmiává vénült banya, Mindent faló cápa gyomra, S szükségünk van mérges gyomra: Éjjel ásott gumójára, S kell káromló zsidó mája, Kecskeepe, fűz egy fürtje, Fogyó holdkor tépve-fűzve, Török orra, tatár ajka, Az is legyen pogányfajta, Olyan kisded keze-ujja, Akit ma szült szajha anyja, Rögvest az árokba dobta, De előtte megfojtotta. Bélből rántás, tigrisé, S készen áll a varázslé. MIND Dobja jobbra, dobja balra, Láng dagassza, üstje falja. MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Pávián vér épp jól hűt Egy ilyen varázsnedűt. [Megjelenik HEKATÉ, és másik három BOSZORKÁNY.] HEKATÉ Jól van! Számíthattam rátok, �Jutalmatok megkapjátok, Álljátok az üstöt körbe, S mint tündér, manó vagy törpe, Énekeljetek neki, Így lesz varázzsal teli. [Zene és dal: „Sötét szellemek/lelkek”.] [HEKATÉ és három BOSZORKÁNY távozik.] MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Hüvelykujjaimban érzem: Valami gonosz jön éppen, Bárki jár itt: bűvös zár nyit. [Belép MACBETH.] MACBETH Mi van, titkolódzó, éjsötét banyák? Mi dolgotok itt? MIND Tett, de nincs neve. MACBETH Bárhonnan van, tudásotok Legsötétebb mélységére kérlek, Feleljetek nekem. Bár vad szeleket gyűjtötök templomok Ostromára, bár zilált hullám öklel Hajót, hogy megtévessze, elsüllyessze, Bár dús vetést és fákat orkán tördel, Bár várfal omlik védői fejére, Bár paloták és piramisok csúcsai Alapjaikba zuhannak bele, Bár az őstermészet kincseinek Legjava herdálódik, hogy még A pusztulás is belesápad, mégis: Válaszoljatok, ha kérdezek. ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Beszélj! MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Vallass! HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Válaszolunk. �ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY A mi ajkunkról kívánod hallani, Vagy azoktól, akik nekünk parancsolnak? MACBETH Hívjátok ide, hadd lássam őket. ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Disznóvér kell, olyan koca, Kilenc kölykét mind felfalta, A bitófa izzadt zsírja, Hogyha gyilkos lengett rajta: Dobd a lángba! Dobd! MINDHÁROM BOSZORKÁNY Mindegy, magasból vagy mélyből, Mutasd, ki vagy és mi végből. [Mennydörgés. Belép az ELSŐ JELENÉS, sisakos Fej.] MACBETH Beszélj nekem, te, rejtélyes erő… ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Tud olvasni gondolataidban, Hallgasd, ne szólj egy szót sem. ELSŐ JELENÉS Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth: messze kerüld Macduffot, Kerüld Fife thánját. — Engedj el. Elég. [Alászáll.] MACBETH Bármi vagy, köszönöm a jótanácsot. Félelmem hangszerén tisztán játszol. Csak még egy szóra… ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Nem lehet neki parancsolni. Itt egy másik, Még hatalmasabb, mint az első. [Mennydörgés. Belép a MÁSODIK JELENÉS, egy véres Gyermek.] MÁSODIK JELENÉS Macbeth, Macbeth. Macbeth. MACBETH Bár három füllel hallhatnálak. �MÁSODIK JELENÉS Légy véresen elszánt, vakmerő, Gúnyolva kacagd az emberek hatalmát, Mert nem árthat Macbethnek, akit anya szült. [Alászáll.] MACBETH Akkor, Macduff, csak élj, mit féljek tőled? De megkétszerezem biztonságomat, Szaván fogom a sorsot: mégse élj, Hogy a sápadt szívű félelemnek Szemébe mondhassam: „hazudsz nekem”, S békén alhassak mennydörgéskor is. [Mennydörgés. Belép a HARMADIK JELENÉS, egy koronát viselő Gyermek, kezében élő fa.] Mi ez? Úgy növekszik, mint királyi sarj, S a kisgyermek fején uralkodói Jelvény díszeleg. MINDEN BOSZORKÁNY Figyeld, de ne szólítsd meg. HARMADIK JELENÉS Légy oroszlánszívű és magabiztos, Sértés, fenyegetés, vagy pusmogó Összeesküvés ne érdekeljen. Nem győzhetik le soha Macbethet, Amíg Birnam Nagy Erdeje nem indul Ellene, Dunsinane magas hegyére. [Alászáll.] MACBETH Az pedig sosem lesz: Ki hívja be a fákat katonának, Ki mondja: „gyökerek, díszlépésben Ki a földből?” Ez édes jóslat, jól van. Ti lázadó halottak, maradjatok A sírban, míg Birnam fái meglódulnak, Macbethünk pedig a főhelyen A természettől bérli életét: Idő adósa, de csak mint bárki más. Ám szívem dobban, egyet kérdezne még: Királyok lesznek-e majd Banquo sarjai? �MINDEN BOSZORKÁNY Ne akarj többet tudni. MACBETH Ezt tudnom kell! Ha megtagadjátok, Örökké tartó átok sújtson rátok. [Az üst lesüllyed.] Fuvolások. Az üst mért süllyed el? Mi ez a zaj? ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Mutasd! MÁSODIK BOSZORKÁNY Mutasd! HARMADIK BOSZORKÁNY Mutasd! MINDEN BOSZORKÁNY Szemet tágíts, szívnek gyászt hozz, Jöjj mint árnyék, s úgy is távozz. [Belép mint jelenés nyolc király, az utolsó kristálygömböt tart, amelyben látszik a jövő. Mögöttük BANQUO szelleme.] MACBETH Te is olyan vagy, mint Banquo szelleme. Bukj már alá! Koronád égeti A szemgolyómat. És a hajad, ez A másik kerek aranykorona, Szakasztott olyan, mint az elsőn vagy A harmadikon. — Mocskos banyák, mért Mutatjátok ezt? Még egy? Pukkanj ki, szem! Hát ítéletnapig húzódik a sor? Még egy hetedik is? Ne lássak többet. De jön a nyolcadik, és kristálygömböt Tart: benne még többet látok: hármas Jogar, kettős országalma, borzalom! De igaz a látvány, mert vérrögökkel Fürtjein Banquo rám mosolyog, és Azt mutatja: ott vannak sarjai. [Eltűnik a királyok jelenése, BANQUO szellemével együtt.] Hát akkor így lesz? ELSŐ BOSZORKÁNY Igen, uram, így lesz, így van. De mért áll �Macbeth úgy, mint útvesztőben? Gyertek csak, húgaim, bűbájainkkal Felvidítjuk, itt a bemutató! Én hangot csiholok a puszta légből, Te válassz táncot az őrültekéből, Boldogan mondhassa nagy királyunk, Megérte, hogy a ma estére várjunk. [Zene. A BOSZORKÁNYOK táncolnak, majd eltűnnek.] MACBETH Hol vannak? Elmentek? Ez a vészes óra, Átkozott legyen minden krónikában! Gyere be, aki kint vagy! [Belép LENNOX.] LENNOX Mit parancsol felséged? MACBETH Láttad a vészlényeket? LENNOX Nem én, jó uram. MACBETH Nem látogattak meg? LENNOX Nem, uram, dehogy. MACBETH Romoljon alattuk meg a levegő, S átkozott legyen, aki még bízik bennük. Lódobogást hallottam, ki jött meg? LENNOX Egy páran, hírhozók, azt mondják, Macduff átszökött Angliába. MACBETH Átszökött Angliába? LENNOX Igen, uram. MACBETH [Félre.] Idő, előre látod rémes terveim; �A gyorsan tűnő célt sohasem érjük el, Ha nem jár vele tett. Mostantól ami a szívemben Megfogan, kézen fogom. És hogy gondolataimat Meg is koronázzam, azonnal megteszem, Amit gondolok. Meglepem Macduff várát, Elfoglalom Fife-ot, kardélre hányom Asszonyát, kölykeit és a többi Szerencsétlent, aki hozzá húz. Nem Kérkedek bolondként: meglesz a tett, Sóhaj helyett; nem hűlhet ki a cél. [LENNOX-hoz] Hol vannak hát a hírhozó urak? Vezess hozzájuk! [Kimennek.] 4.2. [Belép LADY MACDUFF, a FIA és ROSS.] LADY MACDUFF Mért menekült el? Valami rosszat tett? ROSS Türelem, kérlek, drága asszonyom… LADY MACDUFF Türelem? Neki nem volt; ez értelmetlen. Van úgy, hogy nem a tettünk árul el, Hanem a félelem tesz árulóvá. ROSS Nem tudhatod, hogy félelem volt-e, Vagy épp bölcsesség. LADY MACDUFF Bölcsesség? Itt hagyja feleségét, Kisgyermekeit, a házát, birtokát, Ahonnan maga is menekül? Nem Szeret minket. A természetben is Az ágrólszakadt ökörszem, a legkisebb Madár harcol a nagy bagollyal, védi A fiókáit, fészkét nem engedi. Itt mindenki gyáva, semmi a szeretet; Esztelen rémület ez, nem bölcsesség! ROSS Drága húgom, szedd össze magad! Férjed Igenis bölcs, okosan mérlegel, �És tudja, mikor mit kell tennie. Nem merem tűzni-fűzni, de iszonyú A kor, amelyben árulóvá válunk, De nem tudjuk magunkról; suttogunk Félelmekről, de nem értjük, mitől Félünk, mert az névtelen; csak sodródunk A vad, nyílt óceánon, és nincs utunk Semerre. Most mennem kell, de hamar Visszatérek. A mélypontról csak felfelé Van út, rosszabb már nem lehet. Kishúgom, Isten áldjon! LADY MACDUFF Fiamnak van apja, de még sincs. ROSS Bolondság volna tőlem itt maradni: Nekem kínos, neked csak szomorúság, Most rögtön távozom. [Kimegy.] LADY MACDUFF Fiam, apád meghalt. Most mihez kezdesz? Hogy élsz tovább? KISFIÚ Mint a madarak, anyám. LADY MACDUFF Csak nem kukacokon és legyeken élsz? KISFIÚ Ahogyan ők: azon, amit találok. LADY MACDUFF Kis madaram, háló, madarász tőre, csapda, más kelepce eddig még nem ért, ezért nem félsz tőlük. KISFIÚ Miért félnék, anyám? A pici, sovány madarat nem bántják. És az apám nem halt meg, akármit mondasz. LADY MACDUFF De igen, halott. Hogy szerzel új apát? KISFIÚ És te új férjet? LADY MACDUFF Bármelyik piacon akár húszat kapok. �KISFIÚ Akkor csak azért vedd meg őket, hogy aztán eladhasd mindet. LADY MACDUFF Eszes gyerek vagy, de még sokat kell tanulnod. KISFIÚ Anyám, apa áruló volt? LADY MACDUFF Igen, áruló. KISFIÚ Mi az, hogy áruló? LADY MACDUFF Hát, aki esküdözik és hazudik. KISFIÚ És aki ezt csinálja, az mind áruló? LADY MACDUFF Mindenki, aki ezt csinálja, áruló és fel kell akasztani. KISFIÚ És aki esküdözik és hazudik, mind fel kell akasztani? LADY MACDUFF Mind egy szálig. KISFIÚ Kinek kell felakasztani? LADY MACDUFF Hát a becsületes embereknek. KISFIÚ Akkor az esküdözők és hazugok mind bolondok, mert elég esküdöző és hazug van, hogy megverjék a becsületes embereket, és felakasszák őket. LADY MACDUFF Kis majom! Ne félj, az Isten ad majd bölcsességet. De hogyan pótolod az apádat? KISFIÚ Ha meghalt volna, most zokognál, megsiratnád: nem akarsz sírni, tehát gyorsan új apát kell kapnom. �LADY MACDUFF Szegénykém, miket mondasz, csak beszélsz összevissza. [Belép egy HÍRHOZÓ.] HÍRHOZÓ Isten áldása kísérjen, szép hölgy. Te nem ismersz, én pontosan tudom, Kit tisztelhetek benned. Sajnos nagy és Közvetlen veszély fenyeget, kérlek, Fogadd el tisztaszívű jótanácsom: Ne találjanak itt. El innen gyorsan, Kicsinyeiddel együtt! Tudom, hogy Vad dolog így rád ijesztenem, de Ha baj ér, az nagyobb kegyetlenség, És személyed ennél fontosabb. Ég óvjon, Nem merek tovább maradni. [Kimegy.] LADY MACDUFF De hát hová szaladjak? Nem tettem semmi rosszat. Tudom, tudom, Ez a földi világ, ahol a gonoszság Arat zajos sikert; a jótettet meg Veszélyes hóbortként könyvelik el. De hát nem úgy védekezem-e, ahogy Egy nő szokott: „nem tettem semmi rosszat”? [GYILKOSOK törnek be.] Micsoda arcok…. GYILKOS Hol van a férjed? LADY MACDUFF Remélem, nem szentségtelen helyen, Ahol a magadfajta rátalálna. GYILKOS A férjed áruló. KISFIÚ Hazudsz, te csimbókos hajú gazember! GYILKOS Micsoda, te záptojás? �Te kis szaros: áruló vakarcsa! [Megöli.] KISFIÚ Anya, megölt. Könyörgök, menekülj! [Mind el, LADY MACDUFF azt kiáltozza, „Gyilkos!”, mögötte a GYILKOSok, akik magukkal cipelik a fiát.] 4.3. [Belép MALCOLM és MACDUFF.] MALCOLM Keressünk egy elhagyatott, árnyékos Helyet, és sírjuk ki jól magunkat. MACDUFF Inkább markoljuk meg halálos vasunk, S mint jó bajtársak, mentsük a romlástól Jogos örökségünk. Minden új reggel Új özvegyek jajongnak, új árvák Sírnak, új gyász üti arcul a mennyet, Hogy visszhangzik belé, mintha Skócia Lelke volna, s egyetlen szótagban Üvöltené ki, mi fáj. MALCOLM Gyászolnom kell, amit el kell hinnem, És el kell hinnem, amit már tudok, S ha tudom, bepólyálom a sebeket, Amint kedvez a tettnek az idő. Talán úgy van valóban, ahogy mondtad. A zsarnokról is, akinek ma már Puszta neve sérti nyelvünk, azt hittük, Derék ember. Te is szeretted. Eddig Téged nem bántott. Keveset éltem, És hozzá eljutsz, ha engem használsz fel: Megfontolandó ma született bárányt Adni egy éhes isten haragvó kezébe. MACDUFF Nem vagyok áruló. MALCOLM De Macbeth az. A legedzettebb jellem is megroppanhat Nagy nyomás alatt. Ne haragudj rám: Hogy te mi vagy, én nem szabhatom meg, �S ragyognak még az angyalok, bár egyszer épp A fényhozó bukott le. A jóság Azért csak jóságnak tűnik, Még akkor is, ha rút belsőt takar. MACDUFF Minden reményemet elvesztettem. MALCOLM Talán úgy, ahogy én a bizalmamat. Mért hagytad ott, ridegen, búcsú nélkül A gyerekeid és a feleséged, Imádatod legdrágább tárgyait? Tisztességedben nem kételkedem, Ne haragudj: a saját biztonságom Tesz gyanakvóvá. Én gondolhatok bármit, Attól te még igaz ember lehetsz. MACDUFF Hát akkor vérezz, vérezz, szegény ország! Zsarnokság dísze: szilárd az alapzatod, Mert jóság nem mer érinteni se. Csak hízzál, gazdagodj, neved tovább Ragyoghat. Sohase lennék gazember, az, Akinek gondolsz, hiába kínálnák A zsarnok tartományát, s ráadásként A Kelet kincseit. MALCOLM Nem akartalak megsérteni. Nincs arról szó, hogy egyáltalán nem Bízom benned. Az ország szerintem is Posványba süllyed az iga alatt, Sír, vérzik, minden nap új sebet kap. De mégis volna néhány segítő kéz: Visszahelyeznének jogaimba, És pár ezer katonát felajánlott A jó angol király is. Ennek ellenére, Ha rálépek a vad zsarnok fejére, Vagy azt kardom hegyére tűzöm, Szegény országom csak még szaporább bűnt, Még több szenvedést és görbe utat Lát majd az új királytól. MACDUFF Ki lenne az? MALCOLM Természetesen én – akinek �Húsában sokfajta bűn zárványként Lapul: amikor felnyitják rendre mindet, A sötét Macbeth hófehérnek látszik, S szegény államunk majd kisbáránynak tartja Az én végtelen vétkeimhez képest. MACDUFF A poklok fészkének összes légiója Nem ismer olyan átkozott ördögöt, Aki gonoszságban túltenne Macbethen. MALCOLM Elismerem, hogy vérszomjas, tékozló, Kapzsi, hamis, csalárd, álnok, hirtelen Haragú, rosszindulatú, gázol Minden nemű és fajú bűnben egyaránt. De az én kéjvágyam feneketlen, Feleségeiteket dögkútként Elemésztem; kívánnék lányt, tisztes Matrónát, szüzeket; Étvágyam letépne minden zárat, Ami utamban áll. Nem tudom, mi az: Önmegtartóztatás. Inkább Macbeth, Mintsem ilyen király, nem? MACDUFF A zabolátlan, féktelen természet Zsarnokságba fullad: sok trón ürült Meg így, sok király így ment tönkre. De Csak szerezd meg, ami a tiéd: ne félj, Örömöd mámorító mezőkön Kóborolhat, míg te józan maradsz: Így tévesztheted meg a közvéleményt. Sok hölgy fog jelentkezni. Keselyű Étvágyadnak sok is lesz talán: Ha érzik, hogy kellenek, ők maguk Ajánlkoznak. MALCOLM Csakhogy zavaros, kóros vágyaimban Szárába szökkent a telhetetlen Kapzsiság is: ha király lennék, minden Nemest levágnék, elvenném földjüket, Kívánnám ékszerük és házaik: A „még több” csupán zsíros szaft nekem, Mely éhségem táplálja. Veszekedést Rendeznék álürüggyel, a jók és Becsületesek vagyonát eloroznám, Ilyen vagy olyan címen. �MACDUFF Ez a kapzsiság mélyebbre nyúlik: Ártalmas gyökere nem egynyári Vágyat gerjeszt; ez bizonyult Mohó királyok hóhérpallosának. De ne félj, uram: Skóciában gazdag Az aratás, a sok kis csűr megtölti Majd nagy magtárad; ez nekünk megéri, Ha erényeid mázsáján mérjük le. MALCOLM De nincsenek. A királyi erények: Bölcs döntés, igazmondás, önmérséklet, Megbízhatóság, jótékonykodás, Kitartás, megbocsátás és alázat, Jámborság, merészség, türelem, erő – Ezekkel én nem élek, ám a gazság Minden válfajában járatos vagyok, És gonoszságomban tettek fogannak. Ha én lennék hatalmon, az összhang Édes tejét, bizony, pokolba önteném, Felforgatnám az egyetemes békét, A föld egysége így bomlana szét. MACDUFF Ó, Skócia, Skócia! MALCOLM Akkor mondd meg, így alkalmas vagyok-e A kormányzásra. Bemutatkoztam, tessék. MACDUFF A kormányzásra? Arra sem vagy Alkalmas, hogy élj. Nyomorult nemzet! Zsarnok trónbitorló véres jogara Sújt! Vajon mikor látsz üdvösebb Napot? Királyi széked legigazabb Sarja maga átkozza ki önmagát, És káromolja ősei jogát. Apád valódi felkent, szent király volt, Szülőanyád, a királyné a talpán ritkán, Inkább térden állt, s mindennap készen arra, Hogy kikérjék a lelkét. Na, Isten áldjon, A sok gonoszság, amit magadról Felsoroltál, most engem is száműz A szép Skóciából. Szegény szívem, Oda minden remény. �MALCOLM Macduff, nemes felindulásodat A becsület szülte. Sötét kétségeim Elsöpörted, gondolataim most Egyenes jellemedhez igazodnak. Az ördögi Macbeth megkísértett, Már-már bűvkörébe vont, s a szerény Bölcsesség nem engedte, hogy hamar higgyek, De Isten intézte fönt kettőnk ügyét, Most téged követlek, megtagadom A hamis ösvényt, és visszavonom Mindazt a bűnt és vádat, amelyet Magamról mondtam: ezektől iszonyodik Természetem. Nővel még nem háltam, Nem esküdöztem üresen soha, Ritkán kívántam, ami nem az enyém, Nem vagyok hitszegő, az ördögöt Sem adnám föl titokban senkinek: Az életben gyönyörködöm, s az igazságban. Első hazug beszédem az imént Mondottam el, önmagam ellen. Egy dolog Vagyok igazán: a tiéd, és szegény Pusztuló hazámé; mielőtt jöttél, történt, Hogy Siward készenlétbe állított Tízezer háborúra edzett katonát. Együtt megyünk, és a jószerencse Úgy kísérjen, ahogy igaz ügyet Szolgálunk. Most mért nem mondasz semmit? MACDUFF Két ennyire vonzó és taszító Vallomást nehéz így összerakni. [Belép egy ORVOS.] MALCOLM Jó, majd folytatjuk. Érkezik-e már a király? ORVOS Igen, uram, néhány nyomorult lélek Ácsorog odakint, áhítják gyógyító Kezét. Az orvoslás értetlenül áll Nyavalyáik előtt, De a menny olyan szentséggel ruházta Fel királyunk jobbját, hogy egyetlen Érintése megtisztítja őket. MALCOLM �Köszönöm, tudós doktor. MACDUFF Miféle betegségről van itt szó? MALCOLM A „Gonosz”: ez a neve. A jó királyban csodás erő lakik, Ennek kézzelfogható jeleit Magam láttam, itt, Angliában. Hogy Miként beszél a mennyel, az ő titka, De hatalmas, dagadt kelésekkel megvert Emberek felgyógyulnak szemnek is Fájó, gennyedő sebekből. Aranyból Érmét akaszt a nyakukba, miközben Szent imákat mormol, s azt mondják, ezt A gyógyerőt majd utódjára hagyja. Különös képessége jövőbe Látó készséggel párosul. Sokféle Áldás öleli trónusát, s mind őt dicsérik. [Belép ROSS.] MACDUFF Nézd csak, ki jön itt! MALCOLM A mi földünkről érkezett, de nem Ismerem. MACDUFF Kedves, jó rokon, Isten hozott. MALCOLM Tudom, ki vagy! Az Úristen hamar Megmutatta: nem vagy idegen. ROSS Így legyen, felséges úr. MACDUFF Változott-e valami Skóciában? ROSS Szegény ország, már-már fél szembenézni Azzal, mi lett belőle. Nem hívhatjuk Anyánknak, csak sírgödrünknek, és Senkit nem látsz egyszer se mosolyogni, Legfeljebb azt, aki nem tud semmiről. �Sóhaj, nyögések, sikolyok tépik A levegőt, sértik a fület, már Nem számolja senki. A vad fájdalom Mindennapos lett. A lélekharang Nem tudja, kiért szól, s a jóemberek Élete előbb ér véget, mintsem A virág elhervadna sapkájukon: Haldokolnak, megbetegszenek. MACDUFF Ezt szépen mondtad; fájdalmas igazság. MALOLM Mi a legújabb gyász oka? ROSS Hogy a gyászhír már nem él egy órát se, Már percenként jön az újabb és újabb. MACDUFF Hogy van a feleségem? ROSS Hát, jól. MACDUFF És a gyerekeim? ROSS Ők is. MACDUFF A zsarnok nem háborgatta őket? ROSS Nem, nagy békében voltak, amikor Eljöttem. MACDUFF Mért fukarkodsz a szóval? Mi történt? ROSS Amikor indultam, hogy beszámoljak Nektek, nehéz szívvel, az a hír járta, Hogy sok derék társunk külföldre ment, És szerintem emiatt van az is, Hogy a zsarnok csapatokat állít. Nagyon kell a segítség. [MALCOLM-nak] Csupán egy Pillantásod katonát teremtene �Skóciában, és az asszonyok is Harcolnának, hogy levethessék Szörnyű gyötrelmeik. MALCOLM Vigasztald őket, Hogy jövünk már. Anglia kegyesen Siwardot és tízezer emberét adta Kölcsön; kipróbált harcos az öreg, Nincs jobb a keresztény világban. ROSS Bár viszonozhatnám ezt hasonló Vigasszal, de szavam inkább A puszta levegőbe üvölteném, Ahol nem sérti a fület. MACDUFF Kinek szól a hír? Mindenkinek, vagy Csak egyetlen szívbe markol? ROSS Nincs becsületes lélek, akit ne Rendítene meg igazán, de a történet Veleje csak rád vonatkozik. MACDUFF Ha az enyém, ne titkold el, gyorsan Mondd, ki vele! ROSS Nehogy füled örökre elátkozza Nyelvemet, mert ilyen súlyos hangokat Még nem hallottál. MACDUFF Jaj, azt hiszem, tudom már… ROSS A váradat hirtelen megrohanták, S kíméletlenül lemészárolták Feleségedet és gyermekeidet. Ha mindent pontosan elmondanék, Téged is meggyilkolt őzgidáid Mellé löknélek holt tetemként. MALCOM Jóságos Isten! De ne fojtsd el a bánatod, Szóba öntsd, ami fáj; a néma gyász csak �Suttog a nehéz szívnek, s megrepeszti. MADUFF A gyerekeimet is? ROSS Asszonyodat, gyerekeidet, szolgáidat: Mindenkit, aki élt. MACDUFF És én nem lehettem ott? A feleségemet is megölték? ROSS Ahogy mondtam. MALCOLM Valami vigasz kell: Iszonyú bosszúnk legyen az orvosság, Hogy a halálos bánatot gyógyítsuk. MACDUFF Neki nincs gyermeke. Mindet, azokat A szépeket? Azt mondtad, mindenkit? Poklok ragadozója! Mindenkit? Hogy? Minden pelyhes csibét a kotlóssal? Egyetlen mozdulattal felfordítja A fészket? MALCOLM Harcolj, ahogy férfihoz illik. MACDUFF Igen, igen, De éreznem is kell, ember vagyok, Emlékeznem kell a legdrágábbakra. Hát letekint a menny, és nem védi őket? Macduff, szörnyű bűnöd, hogy miattad Haltak meg. Gonosz vagy; nem a saját Vétkeikért pusztultak, a te Hibádból gyilkolták meg őket. A menny Adjon nekik most békés nyughelyet. MALCOLM Ez legyen a kardod köszörűje, Legyen harag a gyászból, a szív háborogjon, Ne tompuljon el. MACDUFF �Most játszhatnám a nőt könnyes szemmel, Beszélhetnék most összevissza, de Inkább az eget kérem, közjáték Helyett hadd legyek főszereplő, szemtől Szembe a skót fenevaddal, tőlem Egyetlen kardnyújtásnyira. Ha szökni próbál, A menny lehet neki irgalmas, de nem én! MALCOLM Ez férfias harci riadó. Gyerünk a királyhoz, Minden készen áll, már csak indulni kell. Macbethet tönkretesszük: épp megérett rá. A fentiek erősítsék hatalmunkat. Kedvünk formáljuk bármilyen alakra, Hosszú az éj, ha nem lel rá a napra. [Kimennek.] V. felvonás 5.1. [Belép egy ORVOS és egy belső UDVARHÖLGY.] ORVOS Harmadik éjszaka virrasztok önnel, drága hölgyem, de semmi bizonyíték nincs arra, amit mondott. Mikor járkált utoljára? UDVARHÖLGY Mióta felséges urunk a harcmezőn gyűjt csapatokat, láttam, hogy asszonyunk kikel az ágyából, magára kapja hálóköpenyét, kinyitja a faliszekrényt, papirost vesz elő, félbehajtja, ír rá valamit, elolvassa, később pecséttel lezárja, aztán visszatér az ágyába, de közben végig mélyen alszik. ORVOS A természet komoly zavarodottságát mutatja, ha valaki úgy részesül az alvás jótéteményében, hogy közben látszólag ébren van. Álomittas izgalmában a járkálás és a többi valóban eljátszott mozdulat mellett mondott is valamit? Hallotta, mit beszél? UDVARHÖLGY Hallottam, uram, de nem ismétlem el. ORVOS Nekem nyugodtan, sokat segítene. UDVARHÖLGY �Sem magának, sem másnak, uram, mivel nincs tanúm, aki megerősíthetné, amit mondok. [Belép LADY MACBETH gyertyával.] Nézze, itt jön. Úgy vette fel ezt a szokást, mint ruhát, szinte belebújt, de az életemre esküszöm, hogy mélyen alszik. Nagyon figyeljen, de ő ne lássa önt! ORVOS Honnan szerezte a gyertyát? UDVARHÖLGY Az ágya mellől. Azt parancsolta, hogy a szobájában mindig világítson valami. ORVOS Látja? A szeme nyitva van. UDVARHÖLGY Igen, mégis minden érzékszerve becsukódott. ORVOS Most mit csinál? Nézze, hogy dörzsölgeti a kezét. UDVARHÖLGY Ezt sokszor csinálja; úgy tesz, mintha kezet mosna. Néha negyedórán át nem hagyja abba. LADY MACBETH Még mindig itt egy folt. ORVOS Csönd, mondott valamit. Leírom, mi szólal meg benne, így később pontosabban tudom felidézni a jelenetet. LADY MACBETH Tűnj el, átkozott folt! Tűnj el, ha mondom! Egy, kettő. Igen, most jött el az idő, meg kell tenni. A pokol homályos. Fúj, uram, fúj, katona és ennyire fél? Ki tudja meg, ha mi vagyunk hatalmon, és senki sem vonhat felelősségre? De ki gondolta volna, hogy az öregemberben ennyi vér van? ORVOS Hallotta ezt? LADY MACBETH Fife thánjának volt egy felesége. És hol van most? Hát sohasem lesz tiszta ez a kéz? Ebből elég volt, �uram, elég: ezzel a rángatózással mindent elrontasz. ORVOS Ajaj, ezt nem lett volna szabad hallania. UDVARHÖLGY Igen, biztosra veszem, hogy olyat mondott, amit nem lett volna szabad. Az ég tudja, mit tud még. LADY MACBETH Még mindig itt van a vér szaga. Arábia minden fűszere sem képes megédesíteni ezt a kis kezet. Ó! Ó! Ó! ORVOS Micsoda sóhaj! Nehéz a szív és fáj. UDVARHÖLGY Ilyen szívet nem hordanék a mellkasomban, még ha királynői testem lehetne cserébe, akkor sem. ORVOS Jól van, jól van…. UDVARHÖLGY Imádkozzunk, hogy minden jól legyen. ORVOS Ilyen esetem még nem volt, de tudok olyanokról, akik alvajárók voltak, és ágyban haltak meg, beszentelve. LADY MACBETH Mosd meg a kezed, végy hálóruhát, ne sápadozz! Megint mondom, hogy Banquót eltemették, nem mászhat elő a sírjából. ORVOS Még ez is? LADY MACBETH Ágyba, ágyba, kopognak a várkapun. Gyere, gyere, gyere, gyere, add a kezed, amit megtettünk, nem lehet már nem megtenni. Ágyba, ágyba, ágyba. ORVOS Most visszamegy az ágyba? UDVARHÖLGY Egyenesen oda. ORVOS �Rút dolgokról suttognak mindenütt, A tett, ha vét a természet ellen, Természetellenes a származéka is, A nyugtalanság. Beteges elme Süket párnának suttogja el a titkát. Lelki segítség kell itt, nem orvosi. Mindannyiunknak bocsáss meg, Istenem. [Az udvarhölgyhöz:] Vigyázzon rá; a közeléből vigyen el Mindent, amivel árthat magának, És sohase veszítse szem elől. Most jó éjszakát. Megrémisztette elmémet a látvány, Egészen elképesztett. Csak gondolkodni merek, beszélni nem. UDVARHÖLGY Jó éjszakát, tudós doktor. 5.2. [Dobosok és zászlóvivők. Belép MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, Katonák.] MENTEITH Az angol sereg közel van, élén Malcolm és nagybátyja: Siward, És a derék Macduff. Bosszúvágy lobog bennük: sérelmük Vérző félhalottakat felrázna, A haldokló is indulatba jönne. ANGUS Birnam erdejénél találkozunk Velük, annyi biztos. Odajönnek ők is. CAITHNESS Vajon Donalbain támogatja bátyját? Ott lesz Malcolmmal? LENNOX Biztos, hogy nem. Listám van arról, ki Van velünk a nemességből. Siward Fia például, és számos ifjú, Akik majd most érnek igazi férfivá. MENTIETH S a zsarnok mit csinál? CAITHNESS �Erősíti Dunsinane magas várát, Sokan mondják, megőrült, aki nem Gyűlöli annyira, vakmerő dühről Beszél; az biztos: zavaros dolgait Képtelen a törvény körén belül tartani. ANGUS Már pontosan érzi, mit jelent, hogy Orgyilkos vér tapad a kezéhez, Már érti, mit jelent a hitszegés; Aki engedelmeskedik még neki, Az parancsra cselekszik, nem Szeretetből. Már érzi, mit jelent, Ha a királyi cím úgy lóg valakin, Mint tolvaj törpén óriás lebernyege. MENTEITH Nem csodálom, hogy minden elgyötört Érzéke visszaborzad, elirtózott Önmagától, hiszen bensőjében Azt ítéli el, ami épp benne van. CAITHNESS Azt hiszem, jobb, ha most továbbmegyünk, És teljesítjük, amivel tartozunk. Találkozzunk Malcolmmal, ő a beteg Nemzet gyógyszere, mi az orvosság Cseppjei, akik megtisztogatjuk Országunkat. LENNOX Vagy legyünk a királyi virágot Tápláló harmatcseppek, de ami gyom, Azt megfullasztjuk. Csapat, indulj Birnam felé! [Mind el, menetelve.] 5.3. [Belép MACBETH, az ORVOS és kísérők.] MACBETH Ne hozzatok több hírt. Hadd fussanak, Mindenki, amerre lát. Ameddig Birnam erdeje nem indul Dunsinane-be, Nem mocskol be a félelem. Ki ez A Malcolm, ez a kölyök? Talán nem Anya szülte? A szellemek, az emberi Sors ismerői azt jósolták nekem, �„Ne félj, Macbeth, akit asszony szült meg, Nem győzhet le soha.” Akkor csak tessék, Álnok thánok, menjetek az angol Kéjtanyára. Szilárd elmémet és szívemet Nem hajlítja meg a kétség; nem rendít Meg a rémület. [Belép egy SZOLGA.] Az ördög fessen feketére, te Tejfölképű átokfajzat! Honnan Vetted ezt a dülledt libaszemet? SZOLGA Uram, tízezer… MACBETH Liba, gazember? SZOLGA Katonák, uram. MACBETH Menj, és csipdesd a holtfehér archúsod, Egy kis pirosítót a gyávaságra! Friss májat egyél, több lesz majd a véred! Miféle katonák, te idióta? Fulladj meg, ez a lepedő-arc másokat Is félelemre sápaszt. Miféle Katonák jönnek, te tejfölös túró? SZOLGA Uram, könyörgök, az angol hadsereg! MACBETH Vidd innen a pofádat! Gyorsan! Seyton! – rosszul vagyok, ha meglátlak – Hé, Seyton, az anyád… – ez a támadás Vagy felvidít majd, vagy most letaszít. Eleget éltem. Az életem száradó Holtágba lépett a sárga falevél Évszakában, s az öregség áldásai: Tisztelet, hűség, szeretet, barátok, Nekem nem jut soha. Helyette átok: Nem hangos, inkább mélyen zengő; Gépiesen felmondott dicséret, lihegés, Amit a szív tagadna, de a száj nem meri. Seyton! �[Belép SEYTON.] SEYTON Mit óhajt felséged? MACBETH Van új hír azóta? SEYTON Csak megerősítették, amit hallottál. MACBETH Harcolok, amíg a csontomról le nem Metszik a húst. Hozd a kardomat, a többi fegyvert! SEYTON Még nincsen rájuk szükség. MACBETH Nekem már kellenek. Küldj ki több lovast. Pásztázd a környéket. Akaszd fel, aki fél. Hozd a fegyverem. Hogy van a beteged, tudós doktor? ORVOS A teste egészséges, felséges úr, A feje van tele sűrű képzelgéssel, Nem engedi pihenni. MACBETH Gyógyítsd ki ebből. Hát nincs recepted a beteg elmére, A bánat gyökereit sem tudod kitépni Az emlékek közül, az agyra vésett Zűrzavart kitörölni? Ha a mellkasban Méreganyag gyűlik, és a szívet nyomja, Nincs valami édes, purgáló csodaszer, Amitől elfelejtjük, mi gyötör? ORVOS Itt a beteg csak önmagán segíthet. MACBETH Dobd a kutyáknak a tudományod, Nekem nem kell. Ide a kardot, a lándzsát! – Mozdulj, Seyton! – Doktorom, a thánok Mind itt hagynak. [SEYTON-hoz:] – Most mégis, mire vársz? – Te tudós, vizsgáld meg az országom �Vizeletét, add vissza az egészségét Egészen, ébredjen frissen, én pedig A visszhangig tapsollak: kétszer hallod A tenyerem. [SEYTON-hoz:] – Indulj már, azt a keserves…! – [SEYTON el.] Mondd, nincs valami szennafű, rebarbara, Tudod: tisztítószer, ami kihajtja Innen az angol sereget? ORVOS De van, jó uram, hiszen azt halljuk, Királyi fogadtatásban részesülnek. MACBETH Azt ott hozd utánam. – Addig nem halok meg, semminek sincs vége, Míg Birnam erdeje nem jön Dunsinane-be. [Mindenki el, kivéve az ORVOS-t.] ORVOS Bárcsak Dunsinane-től messze lennék, Nincs az a pénz, amiért visszajönnék. [Elmegy.] 5.4. [Dobok és zászlók. Belép MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF, IFJABB SIWARD, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS és KATONÁK, menetelve.] MALCOLM Rokonaim, remélem, közel már A nap, hogy otthonunkban biztonság Lakozzon. MENTEITH Semmi kétségünk nincs! SIWARD Miféle erdő ez itt? MENTEITH A birnami erdő. MALCOLM Minden katona vágjon egy lombos ágat, S tartsa maga elé; így árnyékba borul, Hogy hányan vagyunk, s a felderítés �Hibás adatot mond. KATONA Igenis, uram! SIWARD Csak annyit tudunk, a magabiztos zsarnok Szilárdan tartja magát Dunsinane-ben, És hagyja majd, hogy tábort verjünk. MALCOLM Mert azt reméli, így nem szöknek ki Többen a várból: minden rendű és rangú Elhagyta, s aki szolgálja, kényszerből Teszi: a szív hiányzik. MACDUFF Alaposan mérjük föl erőinket, És igaz ügyünk mellé illesszünk Vitézséget. SIWARD Eljött az idő: Tanácskozunk, és jó döntést hozunk, Mi a miénk és mivel tartozunk. A találgatás hamis reményt táplál, Ha lecsapunk, eldől, ki támad vagy hátrál, Hát akkor induljon a háború! 5.5. [Belép MACBETH, SEYTON és katonák dobokkal és zászlókkal.] MACBETH Tűzd ki zászlónkat a külső falra; Még mindig azt kiáltozzák, „jönnek”. A vár ereje kikacagja ezt az ostromot, Hadd heverésszenek itt lenn, alattunk, Az éhínség, a láz majd felzabálja őket. Magukhoz kényszerítik, aki a miénk, Másképp a szakállánál fogva mindet Hazavernénk. [Asszonyi sikoltás hallatszik kívülről.] Mi volt ez a zaj? SEYTON Asszonyok jajongnak, jó uram. �MACBETH Már alig emlékszem a félelem ízére, Volt idő, amikor egyetlen sikolytól Az éjszakában minden érzékem Jegesre fagyott, s egy baljós történettől Karomon minden szőrszál külön állt, És reszketett, mintha mindegyikben Élet volna. Torkig bevacsoráztam Iszonyatból. Most a borzalom bennem A véres gondolatok jóbarátja. Ki sikoltott? SEYTON Uram, meghalt a királyné. MACBETH Később kellett volna; Egy ilyen szó más lett volna más időben. A holnap és a holnap és a holnap: Nap telik nap után, mind húzza a lábát A jegyzett idő utolsó szaváig, És minden tegnap a dohos halálba Világított utat nekünk, bolondoknak. Ne égj, csonka gyertya! Az élet csupán sétáló árny, egy nyavalyás Színész, egy órát teszi-veszi magát fönn A színpadon és elhallgat. Egy gyagyás Meséje, hang és téboly, És nem szól semmiről. [Belép egy HÍRNÖK.] A nyelvedet akarod használni: Mi a történet? Egy-kettő, gyorsan! HÍRNÖK Kegyelmes uram, Azt kéne elmondanom, amit láttam, De nem tudom, hogyan. MACBETH Azért csak mondjad! HÍRNÖK Ahogy álltam fenn a dombon s őrködtem, Birnam felé néztem, és úgy tűnt, Az erdő elindult felém. �MACBETH Hazug disznó! HÍRNÖK Tégy velem, amit akarsz, ha nem igaz; Három mérföldre látszik, hogy felénk tart: Egy mozgó liget. MACBETH Ha hazudsz, az első fára lógatlak fel, Elevenen, amíg az éhség le nem Szárít; ha igazat mondtál, te tedd Meg nekem ezt a szívességet, jó? – Az elszántságom gyanakvásba fordul; Elcsúszott valami: a látomás Lidérce úgy volt kétértelmű, hogy igazat Mondott: ezzel hazudott. „Ne félj, Amíg Birnam erdeje nem jön fel Dunsinane-be”, és most az erdő feljön Dunsinane-be. Mindenki fogjon fegyvert! Ha megtörtént, amiről ez itt szájalt, Nincs hová mennem, s itt sem maradhatok. Már az is fáraszt, hogy ragyog a nap, És bár csinálná vissza valaki, Hogy egyáltalán létezik világ. Verd félre a harangot! Riadó! Bömböljön a szél, hadd pusztítson a romlás, Ha meg kell halni, legalább fegyvert fogj, Most nincs más. [Mind el.] 5.6. [Dobok és zászlók. Belép MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF és seregeik, ágakkal.] MALCOLM Közelítünk, dobjátok el a lombos Ágat, már nem kell leplezni, hogy kik Vagyunk. Siward bátyám, kiváló fiaddal Az első összecsapást te vezesd, Mi a jó Macduffal elvégezzük, Ha maradna még valami feladat, Ez a hadiparancsom. SIWARD Isten veled. Találja meg a zsarnokot csapatunk, �És győzzenek le, hogyha nem harcolunk. MACDUFF Beszéljenek a kürtök, szavuk felszáll, Harsogva hirdessék: sok vér és halál! [Kimennek. További kürtszó.] 5.7. [Belép MACBETH.] MACBETH Oszlophoz kötöztek, és mint a medve, Harcolnom kell, nincs hova menekülnöm. Ki az, akit nem az anyja szülte? Tőle kell félnem, mástól senkitől se. [Belép az IFJÚ SIWARD.] IFJÚ SIWARD Mi a neved? MACBETH Megrettensz, ha meghallod. IFJÚ SIWARD Nem! Mondj perzselőbb nevet, mint bármely Név a pokol fenekéről. MACBETH A nevem Macbeth. IFJÚ SIWARD A fülem belefájdul: Az ördög sem ejthetne ki gyűlöltebb nevet. MACBETH De rémisztőbbet se. IFJÚ SIWARD Hazudsz, átkozott zsarnok, kardommal Bizonyítom, mennyire hazudsz! [Vívnak, az IFJÚ SIWARD holtan elesik.] MACBETH Hiába, anya szült. Kardra mosolygok, a fegyvert kacagom, �Ha anya szülte, hordja: hadd villogjon. Csak tessék – hagyom. [Kimegy, és viszi magával az IFJÚ SIWARD testét. Harsonák. Belép MACDUFF.] MACDUFF Itt hallok csatazajt. Zsarnok, mutasd A képed! Ha nem az én döfésem öl meg, A feleségem s kisgyermekeim Nem nyughatnak, kísért a szellemük. Mért bántanék itt néhány nyamvadt zsoldost, Aki csak pénzért rázza a lándzsáját? Te kellesz, Macbeth, vagy éles kardom Tett nélkül csúszik vissza hüvelyébe. Itt kéne lenned, a kardcsattogás, A harci zsivaj rólad árulkodik. Szerencse, segíts megtalálnom, más Kívánságom nincs. [Elmegy. Harsonák, csatazaj. Belép MALCOLM és SIWARD.] SIWARD Uram, gyere, a vár lassan tiéd, A zsarnoktól sokan hozzánk pártolnak, S a nemes thánok vitézül küzdenek, Úgy tűnik, uram, ez a te napod, Nincs már sok dolgunk. MALCOLM Az ellenség most úgy van ellenünk, Hogy épp velünk van. SIWARD Felséged lépjen be a várkapun. [Elmennek, harsonák.] 5.8. [Belép MACBETH.] MACBETH Miért is játszanám a római Bolondot? Talán kardomba dőljek? Amíg itt élő alakokat látok, Inkább gyönyörködöm a sebeikben. [Belép MACDUFF.] �MACDUFF Fordulj ide, pokol kutyája, fordulj! MACBETH Mindenki közül téged kerültelek, Menj innen, menj. Véredből máris túl sok Terheli a lelkem. MACDUFF Nincs mit mondanom, az én hangom a kard, Te véresebb gazember, mintsem szó Lenne rá. [Vívnak, közben kürtszó.] MACBETH Kár fáradoznod. Előbb aprítod szét a kardoddal A sivár levegőt, mintsem hogy belőlem Vér fakadjon. Sebezhető fejekre Tartogasd a pengéd. Engem varázs véd: Engem nem bánthat az, kit anya szült. MACDUFF Rettegjen az a varázs! Majd elmondja neked maga a bukott Angyal, akit szolgálsz: Macduffot idő Előtt az anyja méhéből kitépték! MACBETH Átkozott legyen a nyelv, ami ezt Mondja; a jobbik részem szívja ki. A szemfényvesztő lidércek becsaptak, Két értelemből fontak minden szót, Ami a fülemben ígéretként csengett, Megtört reményként, tompán némul el. Nem harcolok veled. MACDUFF Akkor add meg magad, te gyávaság Bálványa, cégtábla leszel, bámuljon A nép: kiállítunk mint szörnyű ritkaságot, Oszlopra festünk és odapingáljuk: „Itt látható a zsarnok”. MACBETH Nem aláztok meg. Tán Malcolm lába előtt csókoljam �A földet? Átkozzon, köpjön le a csőcselék? Igen: a birnami erdő feljött Dunsinane-be. Igen: téged nem anya Szült. Itt az utolsó próba: itt vagyok. Tessék: a pajzsom elhajítom. Támadj, Macduff és legyen átkozott, Aki először kezd sírni, hogy „elég volt!”. [Kimennek, közben vívnak. Harsonák. Majd újra belép MACBETH és MACDUFF, vívnak, MACBETH holtan elesik. MACDUFF kimegy MACBETH testével. 5.9. [Visszavonulás és harsonák. Dobokkal és zászlókkal belép MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, a thánok és katonák.] MALCOLM Bárcsak itt lennének már barátaink, Remélem, sok bajuk nem esett. SIWARD Néhányan biztosan meghaltak. De sokan Térnek vissza: nagy győzelem volt, Kevés véráldozattal. MALCOLM Macduff hiányzik, és a te fiad is, Siward bátyám. ROSS: [SIWARD-hoz]: Uram, fiad igazi katonaként Rótta le tartozását életéért; Így érett valódi férfivá. Ezt Bizonyítja bátorsága: végig Kitartott, s férfiként halt meg. SIWARD Hát meghalt? ROSS Igen, A többiekkel fekszik, kiterítve. Kérlek, érdemeit ne bánatoddal Mérd, mert akkor örökké siratod. SIWARD Elöl kapott halálos sebet a fiam? �ROSS Igen, uram, elöl. SIWARD Akkor legyen az Isten katonája; Ha annyi fiam lenne, mint hajszálam, Egyiknek sem kívánnék szebb halált. Hadd szóljon érte a lélekharang! MALCOLM Ennél különb szertartást érdemel, Majd gondoskodom róla. SIWARD Nem, nem érdemel többet, hiszen hallod: Az élettől szépen vált meg, és nem volt Tartozása: most Isten nyugosztalja. [Belép MACDUFF, MACBETH fejével.] MACDUFF Üdv neked, királyom, hiszen az vagy! Nézd, itt a trónbitorló átkozott feje. Az idő kiszabadult. Látom, Királyságod úgy ölel, mint foglalat A drága ékkövet: az én hangomban Csendül hangosan, amit mások csupán Magukban mondanak vagy gondolnak: Üdv neked, Skócia királya! MINDENKI Üdv neked, Skócia királya! [Harsonaszó.] MALCOLM Nem fogunk sok időt pazarolni: Hogy szerettek, most rögtön megköszönjük, És nem maradunk adósa senkinek. Thánok, rokonaim: mostantól viseljetek Grófi címet: először királyi Adomány ez Skóciában. S az idő Azt kívánja, kezdjünk ültetni újra Kertjeinkben, s barátainkat, akik Az éber zsarnok csapdái elől Külföldre kényszerültek, hívjuk gyorsan Haza. A kényúr aljas társait Bíróság elé visszük: azokat, Akik szolgálták ezt a most megölt �Mészárost és sátánfajzat feleségét; Utóbbiról az hírlik, hogy önkezével, Vad indulatban vetett véget Életének. S ami még szükséges, Megtesszük, megformáljuk, a kegyelem Kegyelméből, mérték, idő és hely Szerint. Most halljátok mind, Együtt, s külön-külön a köszönet Szavát: meghívunk Scone-ba, Ott fejemre teszik a koronát. [Mind el.] � 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 Macbeth Subject The topic of the resource A Macbeth címá dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A Macbeth 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! - Így add tovább! 2.5 Magyarország Licenc Language A language of the resource magyar angol License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! - Így add tovább! 2.5 Magyarország Licenc Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. digitális gyűjtemény Zotero Author Almási Zsolt Date 2016. 02. 19. Language magyar Publisher Almási Zsolt Title Macbeth gyűjtemény URL https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/collections/show/2 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 Macbeth (Kállay Géza 2014) Subject The topic of the resource Macbeth 21. századi magyar fordítása. Description An account of the resource Kállay Gézának a Liget Kiadónál megjelentetett fordításának az archívumhoz hangolt változata. Annyiban változata az eredeti megjelenésnek, hogy formailag idomul az archívumban található szövegekhez, valamint a rendezői utasítások szögletes zárójelbe kerültek, illetve egy-két elütést javítottam. Tovább az eredtei kiadásból csak a szöveget hagytam meg, a bevezető tanulmányt és a jegyzeteket kihagytam. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://konyv.ligetmuhely.com/ebook/Macbeth-KallayG-Liget.pdf Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Liget Műhely Alapítvány Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Kállay Géza fordító Almási Zsolt (Az archívum számára szekesztette) Horgas Judit (Liget kiadó szerkesztő) Levendel Júlia (Liget kiadó szerkesztő) Horgas Béla (Liget kiadó szerkesztő) 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 TragédiA Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Budapest Date Created Date of creation of the resource. 2019 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. Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. Budapest, Liget Műhely Alapítvány, 2014 Zotero Author William Shakespeare Translator Kállay Géza ISBN ISBN 978-615-5419-11-9 Book Title Macbeth Date 2014 First Page 32 Genre Tragédia Language Magyar Medium Könyv Num Pages 97 Pages 32-129 Publisher Liget Műhely Alapítvány Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. URL https://konyv.ligetmuhely.com/ebook/Macbeth-KallayG-Liget.pdf digitális szöveg Fordítás Kállay Géza Tragédia https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/9b540f66ebf54329e34ff258d313a14b.pdf 976b86f5212bfb0d8ab0d7aeb0e9f8dd PDF Text Text Macbeth By William Shakespeare Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine with Michael Poston and Rebecca Niles Folger Shakespeare Library http://www.folgerdigitaltexts.org/?chapter=5&play=Mac Created on Apr 23, 2016, from FDT version 0.9.2. ACT 1 Scene 1 Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches. FIRST WITCH When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? SECOND WITCH When the hurly-burly’s done, When the battle’s lost and won. THIRD WITCH That will be ere the set of sun. FIRST WITCH Where the place? SECOND WITCH Upon the heath. THIRD WITCH There to meet with Macbeth. FIRST WITCH I come, Graymalkin. SECOND WITCH Paddock calls. THIRD WITCH Anon. ALL Fair is foul, and foul is fair; Hover through the fog and filthy air. 5 10 They exit. Scene 2 Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain. DUNCAN What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state. MALCOLM This is the sergeant Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought ’Gainst my captivity.—Hail, brave friend! Say to the King the knowledge of the broil As thou didst leave it. CAPTAIN Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald (Worthy to be a rebel, for to that The multiplying villainies of nature Do swarm upon him) from the Western Isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; 5 10 15 �And Fortune, on his damnèd quarrel smiling, Showed like a rebel’s whore. But all’s too weak; For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name), Disdaining Fortune, with his brandished steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, 20 Like Valor’s minion, carved out his passage Till he faced the slave; Which ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseamed him from the nave to th’ chops, And fixed his head upon our battlements. 25 DUNCAN O valiant cousin, worthy gentleman! CAPTAIN As whence the sun ’gins his reflection Shipwracking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring whence comfort seemed to come 30 Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark: No sooner justice had, with valor armed, Compelled these skipping kerns to trust their heels, But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, With furbished arms and new supplies of men, 35 Began a fresh assault. DUNCAN Dismayed not this our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? CAPTAIN Yes, as sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were 40 As cannons overcharged with double cracks, So they doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe. Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell— 45 But I am faint. My gashes cry for help. DUNCAN So well thy words become thee as thy wounds: They smack of honor both.—Go, get him surgeons. The Captain is led off by Attendants. Enter Ross and Angus. Who comes here? MALCOLM The worthy Thane of Ross. LENNOX What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look that seems to speak things strange. ROSS God save the King. DUNCAN Whence cam’st thou, worthy thane? ROSS From Fife, great king, Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And fan our people cold. Norway himself, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor, The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict, 50 55 60 �Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapped in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons, Point against point, rebellious arm ’gainst arm, Curbing his lavish spirit. And to conclude, The victory fell on us. DUNCAN Great happiness! ROSS That now Sweno, The Norways’ king, craves composition. Nor would we deign him burial of his men Till he disbursèd at Saint Colme’s Inch Ten thousand dollars to our general use. DUNCAN No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest. Go, pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth. ROSS I’ll see it done. DUNCAN What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. 65 70 75 They exit. Scene 3 Thunder. Enter the three Witches. FIRST WITCH Where hast thou been, sister? SECOND WITCH Killing swine. THIRD WITCH Sister, where thou? FIRST WITCH A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap And munched and munched and munched. “Give me,” quoth I. “Aroint thee, witch,” the rump-fed runnion cries. Her husband’s to Aleppo gone, master o’ th’ Tiger; But in a sieve I’ll thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, I’ll do, I’ll do, and I’ll do. SECOND WITCH I’ll give thee a wind. FIRST WITCH Th’ art kind. THIRD WITCH And I another. FIRST WITCH I myself have all the other, And the very ports they blow; All the quarters that they know I’ th’ shipman’s card. I’ll drain him dry as hay. Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his penthouse lid. He shall live a man forbid. Weary sev’nnights, nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine. Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tossed. Look what I have. 5 10 15 20 25 �SECOND WITCH Show me, show me. FIRST WITCH Here I have a pilot’s thumb, Wracked as homeward he did come. THIRD WITCH A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come. ALL, dancing in a circle The Weïrd Sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about, Thrice to thine and thrice to mine And thrice again, to make up nine. Peace, the charm’s wound up. Drum within. 30 35 Enter Macbeth and Banquo. MACBETH So foul and fair a day I have not seen. BANQUO How far is ’t called to Forres?—What are these, So withered, and so wild in their attire, That look not like th’ inhabitants o’ th’ Earth And yet are on ’t?—Live you? Or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me 45 By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so. MACBETH Speak if you can. What are you? FIRST WITCH All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! SECOND WITCH All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! THIRD WITCH All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter! BANQUO Good sir, why do you start and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair?—I’ th’ name of truth, Are you fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly you show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal. To me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak, then, to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favors nor your hate. FIRST WITCH Hail! SECOND WITCH Hail! THIRD WITCH Hail! FIRST WITCH Lesser than Macbeth and greater. SECOND WITCH Not so happy, yet much happier. 40 50 55 60 65 �THIRD WITCH Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none. So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! FIRST WITCH Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! MACBETH Stay, you imperfect speakers. Tell me more. By Sinel’s death I know I am Thane of Glamis. But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives A prosperous gentleman, and to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting. Speak, I charge you. 70 75 80 Witches vanish. BANQUO The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanished? MACBETH Into the air, and what seemed corporal melted, As breath into the wind. Would they had stayed! BANQUO Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner? MACBETH Your children shall be kings. BANQUO You shall be king. MACBETH And Thane of Cawdor too. Went it not so? BANQUO To th’ selfsame tune and words.—Who’s here? 85 90 Enter Ross and Angus. ROSS The King hath happily received, Macbeth, The news of thy success, and, when he reads Thy personal venture in the rebels’ fight, His wonders and his praises do contend Which should be thine or his. Silenced with that, In viewing o’er the rest o’ th’ selfsame day He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death. As thick as tale Came post with post, and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defense, And poured them down before him. ANGUS We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks, Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee. ROSS And for an earnest of a greater honor, He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor, 95 100 105 110 �In which addition, hail, most worthy thane, For it is thine. BANQUO What, can the devil speak true? MACBETH The Thane of Cawdor lives. Why do you dress me In borrowed robes? 115 ANGUS Who was the Thane lives yet, But under heavy judgment bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined With those of Norway, or did line the rebel 120 With hidden help and vantage, or that with both He labored in his country’s wrack, I know not; But treasons capital, confessed and proved, Have overthrown him. MACBETH, aside Glamis and Thane of Cawdor! 125 The greatest is behind. To Ross and Angus. Thanks for your pains. Aside to Banquo. Do you not hope your children shall be kings, When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me 130 Promised no less to them? BANQUO That, trusted home, Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But ’tis strange. And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, 135 The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray ’s In deepest consequence.— Cousins, a word, I pray you. They step aside. MACBETH, aside Two truths are told 140 As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme.—I thank you, gentlemen. Aside. This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success 145 Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs Against the use of nature? Present fears 150 Are less than horrible imaginings. My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not. 155 BANQUO Look how our partner’s rapt. MACBETH, aside If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me Without my stir. BANQUO New honors come upon him, 160 Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mold But with the aid of use. MACBETH, aside Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. �BANQUO Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. MACBETH Give me your favor. My dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are registered where every day I turn The leaf to read them. Let us toward the King. Aside to Banquo. Think upon what hath chanced, and at more time, The interim having weighed it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other. BANQUO Very gladly. MACBETH Till then, enough.—Come, friends. 165 170 175 They exit. Scene 4 Flourish. Enter King Duncan, Lennox, Malcolm, Donalbain, and Attendants. DUNCAN Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet returned? MALCOLM My liege, They are not yet come back. But I have spoke With one that saw him die, who did report That very frankly he confessed his treasons, Implored your Highness’ pardon, and set forth A deep repentance. Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it. He died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed As ’twere a careless trifle. DUNCAN There’s no art To find the mind’s construction in the face. He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. 5 10 15 Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross, and Angus. O worthiest cousin, The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved, That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine! Only I have left to say, More is thy due than more than all can pay. MACBETH The service and the loyalty I owe In doing it pays itself. Your Highness’ part Is to receive our duties, and our duties Are to your throne and state children and servants, Which do but what they should by doing everything Safe toward your love and honor. DUNCAN Welcome hither. I have begun to plant thee and will labor 20 25 30 �To make thee full of growing.—Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserved nor must be known No less to have done so, let me enfold thee And hold thee to my heart. BANQUO There, if I grow, The harvest is your own. DUNCAN My plenteous joys, Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow.—Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland; which honor must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers.—From hence to Inverness And bind us further to you. MACBETH The rest is labor which is not used for you. I’ll be myself the harbinger and make joyful The hearing of my wife with your approach. So humbly take my leave. DUNCAN My worthy Cawdor. MACBETH, aside The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On which I must fall down or else o’erleap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. DUNCAN True, worthy Banquo. He is full so valiant, And in his commendations I am fed: It is a banquet to me.—Let’s after him, Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome. It is a peerless kinsman. 35 40 45 50 55 60 He exits. 65 Flourish. They exit. Scene 5 Enter Macbeth’s Wife, alone, with a letter. LADY MACBETH, reading the letter They met me in the day of success, and I have learned by the perfect’st report they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it came missives from the King, who all-hailed me “Thane of Cawdor,” by which title, before, these Weïrd Sisters saluted me and referred me to the coming on of time with “Hail, king that shalt be.” This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou might’st not lose the dues of rejoicing by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell. 5 10 �Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great, Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou ’dst have, great Glamis, That which cries “Thus thou must do,” if thou have it, And that which rather thou dost fear to do, Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear And chastise with the valor of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crowned withal. 15 20 25 30 Enter Messenger. What is your tidings? MESSENGER The King comes here tonight. 35 LADY MACBETH Thou ’rt mad to say it. Is not thy master with him, who, were ’t so, Would have informed for preparation? MESSENGER So please you, it is true. Our thane is coming. One of my fellows had the speed of him, 40 Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his message. LADY MACBETH Give him tending. He brings great news. Messenger exits. The raven himself is hoarse 45 That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood. 50 Stop up th’ access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between Th’ effect and it. Come to my woman’s breasts And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers, 55 Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark 60 To cry “Hold, hold!” Enter Macbeth. Great Glamis, worthy Cawdor, �Greater than both by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant. MACBETH My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight. LADY MACBETH And when goes hence? MACBETH Tomorrow, as he purposes. LADY MACBETH O, never Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue. Look like th’ innocent flower, But be the serpent under ’t. He that’s coming Must be provided for; and you shall put This night’s great business into my dispatch, Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. MACBETH We will speak further. LADY MACBETH Only look up clear. To alter favor ever is to fear. Leave all the rest to me. 65 70 75 80 85 They exit. Scene 6 Hautboys and Torches. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus, and Attendants. DUNCAN This castle hath a pleasant seat. The air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. BANQUO This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath Smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle. Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate. 5 10 Enter Lady Macbeth. DUNCAN See, see our honored hostess!— The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you shall bid God ’ild us for your pains And thank us for your trouble. LADY MACBETH All our service, In every point twice done and then done double, 15 �Were poor and single business to contend Against those honors deep and broad wherewith Your Majesty loads our house. For those of old, And the late dignities heaped up to them, We rest your hermits. DUNCAN Where’s the Thane of Cawdor? We coursed him at the heels and had a purpose To be his purveyor; but he rides well, And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath helped him To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest tonight. LADY MACBETH Your servants ever Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in compt To make their audit at your Highness’ pleasure, Still to return your own. DUNCAN Give me your hand. 20 25 30 35 Taking her hand. Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly And shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess. They exit. Scene 7 Hautboys. Torches. Enter a Sewer and divers Servants with dishes and service over the stage. Then enter Macbeth. MACBETH If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly. If th’ assassination Could trammel up the consequence and catch With his surcease success, that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We’d jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here, that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague th’ inventor. This even-handed justice Commends th’ ingredience of our poisoned chalice To our own lips. He’s here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off; And pity, like a naked newborn babe Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubin horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only 5 10 15 20 25 �Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself And falls on th’ other— Enter Lady Macbeth. How now, what news? LADY MACBETH He has almost supped. Why have you left the chamber? MACBETH Hath he asked for me? LADY MACBETH Know you not he has? MACBETH We will proceed no further in this business. He hath honored me of late, and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. LADY MACBETH Was the hope drunk Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valor As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,” Like the poor cat i’ th’ adage? MACBETH Prithee, peace. I dare do all that may become a man. Who dares do more is none. LADY MACBETH What beast was ’t, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both. They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me. I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this. MACBETH If we should fail— LADY MACBETH We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking place And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep (Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey Soundly invite him), his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 �Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only. When in swinish sleep Their drenchèd natures lies as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon Th’ unguarded Duncan? What not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell? MACBETH Bring forth men-children only, For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be received, When we have marked with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, That they have done ’t? LADY MACBETH Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar Upon his death? MACBETH I am settled and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show. False face must hide what the false heart doth know. 80 85 90 95 They exit. �ACT 2 Scene 1 Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch before him. BANQUO How goes the night, boy? FLEANCE The moon is down. I have not heard the clock. BANQUO And she goes down at twelve. FLEANCE I take ’t ’tis later, sir. BANQUO Hold, take my sword. He gives his sword to Fleance. 5 There’s husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursèd thoughts that nature 10 Gives way to in repose. Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch. Give me my sword.—Who’s there? MACBETH A friend. BANQUO What, sir, not yet at rest? The King’s abed. 15 He hath been in unusual pleasure, and Sent forth great largess to your offices. This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up In measureless content. 20 He gives Macbeth a jewel. MACBETH Being unprepared, Our will became the servant to defect, Which else should free have wrought. BANQUO All’s well. I dreamt last night of the three Weïrd Sisters. 25 To you they have showed some truth. MACBETH I think not of them. Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that 30 business, If you would grant the time. BANQUO At your kind’st leisure. MACBETH If you shall cleave to my consent, when ’tis, It shall make honor for you. 35 BANQUO So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, I shall be counseled. MACBETH Good repose the while. 40 �BANQUO Thanks, sir. The like to you. Banquo and Fleance exit. MACBETH Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. Servant exits. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch 45 thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation 50 Proceeding from the heat-oppressèd brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. He draws his dagger. Thou marshal’st me the way that I was going, And such an instrument I was to use. 55 Mine eyes are made the fools o’ th’ other senses Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still, And, on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There’s no such thing. It is the bloody business which informs 60 Thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one-half world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtained sleep. Witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate’s off’rings, and withered murder, Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf, 65 Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 70 Thy very stones prate of my whereabouts And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives. Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. A bell rings. I go, and it is done. The bell invites me. 75 Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell. He exits. Scene 2 Enter Lady Macbeth. LADY MACBETH That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold. What hath quenched them hath given me fire. Hark!—Peace. It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern’st good-night. He is about it. The doors are open, and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores. I have drugged their possets, 5 �That death and nature do contend about them Whether they live or die. MACBETH, within Who’s there? what, ho! LADY MACBETH Alack, I am afraid they have awaked, And ’tis not done. Th’ attempt and not the deed Confounds us. Hark!—I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss ’em. Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done ’t. 10 15 Enter Macbeth with bloody daggers. My husband? MACBETH I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? LADY MACBETH I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? MACBETH When? LADY MACBETH Now. MACBETH As I descended? LADY MACBETH Ay. MACBETH Hark!—Who lies i’ th’ second chamber? LADY MACBETH Donalbain. MACBETH This is a sorry sight. LADY MACBETH A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. MACBETH There’s one did laugh in ’s sleep, and one cried “Murder!” That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them. But they did say their prayers and addressed them Again to sleep. LADY MACBETH There are two lodged together. MACBETH One cried “God bless us” and “Amen” the other, As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands, List’ning their fear. I could not say “Amen” When they did say “God bless us.” LADY MACBETH Consider it not so deeply. MACBETH But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”? I had most need of blessing, and “Amen” Stuck in my throat. LADY MACBETH These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. MACBETH Methought I heard a voice cry “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep”—the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast. LADY MACBETH What do you mean? 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 �MACBETH Still it cried “Sleep no more!” to all the house. “Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore 55 Cawdor Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more.” LADY MACBETH Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water 60 And wash this filthy witness from your hand.— Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there. Go, carry them and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. MACBETH I’ll go no more. 65 I am afraid to think what I have done. Look on ’t again I dare not. LADY MACBETH Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures. ’Tis the eye of childhood 70 That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt. She exits with the daggers. Knock within. MACBETH Whence is that knocking? 75 How is ’t with me when every noise appalls me? What hands are here! Ha, they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, 80 Making the green one red. Enter Lady Macbeth. LADY MACBETH My hands are of your color, but I shame To wear a heart so white. I hear a knocking At the south entry. Retire we to our chamber. A little water clears us of this deed. How easy is it, then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended. Hark, more knocking. Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us And show us to be watchers. Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. MACBETH To know my deed ’twere best not know myself. Knock. 85 Knock. 90 Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking. I would thou couldst. Scene 3 Knocking within. Enter a Porter. 95 They exit. �PORTER Here’s a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell gate, he should have old turning the key. (Knock.) Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there, i’ th’ name of Beelzebub? Here’s a farmer that hanged himself on th’ expectation of plenty. Come in time! Have napkins enough about you; here you’ll sweat for ’t. (Knock.) Knock, knock! Who’s there, in th’ other devil’s name? Faith, here’s an equivocator that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enough for God’s sake yet could not equivocate to heaven. O, come in, equivocator. (Knock.) Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there? Faith, here’s an English tailor come hither for stealing out of a French hose. Come in, tailor. Here you may roast your goose. (Knock.) Knock, knock! Never at quiet.—What are you?—But this place is too cold for hell. I’ll devil-porter it no further. I had thought to have let in some of all professions that go the primrose way to th’ everlasting bonfire. (Knock.) Anon, anon! 5 10 15 20 The Porter opens the door to Macduff and Lennox. I pray you, remember the porter. MACDUFF Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed That you do lie so late? PORTER Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock, and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things. MACDUFF What three things does drink especially provoke? PORTER Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes. It provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery. It makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him and disheartens him; makes him stand to and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep and, giving him the lie, leaves him. MACDUFF I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. PORTER That it did, sir, i’ th’ very throat on me; but I requited him for his lie, and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him. MACDUFF Is thy master stirring? 25 30 35 40 Enter Macbeth. Our knocking has awaked him. Here he comes. LENNOX Good morrow, noble sir. MACBETH Good morrow, both. 45 Porter exits. �MACDUFF Is the King stirring, worthy thane? MACBETH Not yet. MACDUFF He did command me to call timely on him. I have almost slipped the hour. MACBETH I’ll bring you to him. MACDUFF I know this is a joyful trouble to you, But yet ’tis one. MACBETH The labor we delight in physics pain. This is the door. MACDUFF I’ll make so bold to call, For ’tis my limited service. LENNOX Goes the King hence today? MACBETH He does. He did appoint so. LENNOX The night has been unruly. Where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down and, as they say, Lamentings heard i’ th’ air, strange screams of death, And prophesying, with accents terrible, Of dire combustion and confused events New hatched to th’ woeful time. The obscure bird Clamored the livelong night. Some say the Earth Was feverous and did shake. MACBETH ’Twas a rough night. LENNOX My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. 50 55 Macduff exits. 60 65 70 Enter Macduff. MACDUFF O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee! MACBETH AND LENNOX What’s the matter? 75 MACDUFF Confusion now hath made his masterpiece. Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord’s anointed temple and stole thence The life o’ th’ building. MACBETH What is ’t you say? The life? 80 LENNOX Mean you his Majesty? MACDUFF Approach the chamber and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak. See and then speak yourselves. Macbeth and Lennox exit. Awake, awake! 85 Ring the alarum bell.—Murder and treason! Banquo and Donalbain, Malcolm, awake! Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit, And look on death itself. Up, up, and see The great doom’s image. Malcolm, Banquo, 90 As from your graves rise up and walk like sprites �To countenance this horror.—Ring the bell. Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth. LADY MACBETH What’s the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak! MACDUFF O gentle lady, ’Tis not for you to hear what I can speak. The repetition in a woman’s ear Would murder as it fell. 95 Enter Banquo. O Banquo, Banquo, Our royal master’s murdered. LADY MACBETH Woe, alas! What, in our house? BANQUO Too cruel anywhere.— Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself And say it is not so. 100 105 Enter Macbeth, Lennox, and Ross. MACBETH Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessèd time; for from this instant There’s nothing serious in mortality. All is but toys. Renown and grace is dead. The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. 110 Enter Malcolm and Donalbain. DONALBAIN What is amiss? MACBETH You are, and do not know ’t. The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopped; the very source of it is stopped. MACDUFF Your royal father’s murdered. MALCOLM O, by whom? LENNOX Those of his chamber, as it seemed, had done ’t. Their hands and faces were all badged with blood. So were their daggers, which unwiped we found Upon their pillows. They stared and were distracted. No man’s life was to be trusted with them. MACBETH O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. MACDUFF Wherefore did you so? MACBETH Who can be wise, amazed, temp’rate, and furious, Loyal, and neutral, in a moment? No man. Th’ expedition of my violent love 115 120 125 �Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan, 130 His silver skin laced with his golden blood, And his gashed stabs looked like a breach in nature For ruin’s wasteful entrance; there the murderers, Steeped in the colors of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breeched with gore. Who could refrain 135 That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make ’s love known? LADY MACBETH Help me hence, ho! MACDUFF Look to the lady. MALCOLM, aside to Donalbain Why do we hold our 140 tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? DONALBAIN, aside to Malcolm What should be spoken here, where our fate, Hid in an auger hole, may rush and seize us? Let’s away. Our tears are not yet brewed. 145 MALCOLM, aside to Donalbain Nor our strong sorrow upon the foot of motion. BANQUO Look to the lady. Lady Macbeth is assisted to leave. And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet And question this most bloody piece of work 150 To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us. In the great hand of God I stand, and thence Against the undivulged pretense I fight Of treasonous malice. MACDUFF And so do I. 155 ALL So all. MACBETH Let’s briefly put on manly readiness And meet i’ th’ hall together. ALL Well contented. All but Malcolm and Donalbain exit. MALCOLM What will you do? Let’s not consort with them. 160 To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy. I’ll to England. DONALBAIN To Ireland I. Our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer. Where we are, There’s daggers in men’s smiles. The near in blood, 165 The nearer bloody. MALCOLM This murderous shaft that’s shot Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse, And let us not be dainty of leave-taking 170 But shift away. There’s warrant in that theft Which steals itself when there’s no mercy left. They exit. Scene 4 Enter Ross with an Old Man. �OLD MAN Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the volume of which time I have seen Hours dreadful and things strange, but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings. ROSS Ha, good father, Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man’s act, Threatens his bloody stage. By th’ clock ’tis day, And yet dark night strangles the traveling lamp. Is ’t night’s predominance or the day’s shame That darkness does the face of earth entomb When living light should kiss it? OLD MAN ’Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last A falcon, tow’ring in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed. ROSS And Duncan’s horses (a thing most strange and certain), Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turned wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, Contending ’gainst obedience, as they would Make war with mankind. OLD MAN ’Tis said they eat each other. ROSS They did so, to th’ amazement of mine eyes That looked upon ’t. 5 10 15 20 25 Enter Macduff. Here comes the good Macduff.— How goes the world, sir, now? MACDUFF Why, see you not? ROSS Is ’t known who did this more than bloody deed? MACDUFF Those that Macbeth hath slain. ROSS Alas the day, What good could they pretend? MACDUFF They were suborned. Malcolm and Donalbain, the King’s two sons, Are stol’n away and fled, which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed. ROSS ’Gainst nature still! Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up Thine own lives’ means. Then ’tis most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. MACDUFF He is already named and gone to Scone To be invested. ROSS Where is Duncan’s body? MACDUFF Carried to Colmekill, 30 35 40 45 �The sacred storehouse of his predecessors And guardian of their bones. ROSS Will you to Scone? MACDUFF No, cousin, I’ll to Fife. ROSS Well, I will thither. MACDUFF Well, may you see things well done there. Adieu, Lest our old robes sit easier than our new. ROSS Farewell, father. OLD MAN God’s benison go with you and with those That would make good of bad and friends of foes. 50 55 All exit. �ACT 3 Scene 1 Enter Banquo. BANQUO Thou hast it now—king, Cawdor, Glamis, all As the Weïrd Women promised, and I fear Thou played’st most foully for ’t. Yet it was said It should not stand in thy posterity, But that myself should be the root and father Of many kings. If there come truth from them (As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine) Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well, And set me up in hope? But hush, no more. 5 10 Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth, Lennox, Ross, Lords, and Attendants. MACBETH Here’s our chief guest. LADY MACBETH If he had been forgotten, It had been as a gap in our great feast And all-thing unbecoming. MACBETH Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir, And I’ll request your presence. BANQUO Let your Highness Command upon me, to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie Forever knit. MACBETH Ride you this afternoon? BANQUO Ay, my good lord. MACBETH We should have else desired your good advice (Which still hath been both grave and prosperous) In this day’s council, but we’ll take tomorrow. Is ’t far you ride? BANQUO As far, my lord, as will fill up the time ’Twixt this and supper. Go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the night For a dark hour or twain. MACBETH Fail not our feast. BANQUO My lord, I will not. MACBETH We hear our bloody cousins are bestowed In England and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention. But of that tomorrow, When therewithal we shall have cause of state Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse. Adieu, 15 20 25 30 35 �Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? BANQUO Ay, my good lord. Our time does call upon ’s. 40 MACBETH I wish your horses swift and sure of foot, And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell. Banquo exits. Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night. To make society 45 The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself Till suppertime alone. While then, God be with you. Lords and all but Macbeth and a Servant exit. Sirrah, a word with you. Attend those men Our pleasure? SERVANT They are, my lord, without the palace gate. 50 MACBETH Bring them before us. Servant exits. To be thus is nothing, But to be safely thus. Our fears in Banquo Stick deep, and in his royalty of nature Reigns that which would be feared. ’Tis much he 55 dares, And to that dauntless temper of his mind He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor To act in safety. There is none but he Whose being I do fear; and under him 60 My genius is rebuked, as it is said Mark Antony’s was by Caesar. He chid the sisters When first they put the name of king upon me And bade them speak to him. Then, prophet-like, They hailed him father to a line of kings. 65 Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown And put a barren scepter in my grip, Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding. If ’t be so, For Banquo’s issue have I filed my mind; 70 For them the gracious Duncan have I murdered, Put rancors in the vessel of my peace Only for them, and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man To make them kings, the seeds of Banquo kings. 75 Rather than so, come fate into the list, And champion me to th’ utterance.—Who’s there? Enter Servant and two Murderers. To the Servant. Now go to the door, and stay there till we call. Was it not yesterday we spoke together? MURDERERS It was, so please your Highness. MACBETH Well then, now Have you considered of my speeches? Know That it was he, in the times past, which held you So under fortune, which you thought had been Servant exits. 80 85 �Our innocent self. This I made good to you In our last conference, passed in probation with you How you were borne in hand, how crossed, the instruments, Who wrought with them, and all things else that might To half a soul and to a notion crazed Say “Thus did Banquo.” FIRST MURDERER You made it known to us. MACBETH I did so, and went further, which is now Our point of second meeting. Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature That you can let this go? Are you so gospeled To pray for this good man and for his issue, Whose heavy hand hath bowed you to the grave And beggared yours forever? FIRST MURDERER We are men, my liege. MACBETH Ay, in the catalogue you go for men, As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves are clept All by the name of dogs. The valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive Particular addition, from the bill That writes them all alike. And so of men. Now, if you have a station in the file, Not i’ th’ worst rank of manhood, say ’t, And I will put that business in your bosoms Whose execution takes your enemy off, Grapples you to the heart and love of us, Who wear our health but sickly in his life, Which in his death were perfect. SECOND MURDERER I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Hath so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world. FIRST MURDERER And I another So weary with disasters, tugged with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on ’t. MACBETH Both of you Know Banquo was your enemy. MURDERERS True, my lord. MACBETH So is he mine, and in such bloody distance That every minute of his being thrusts Against my near’st of life. And though I could With barefaced power sweep him from my sight And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, For certain friends that are both his and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 130 135 �Who I myself struck down. And thence it is That I to your assistance do make love, Masking the business from the common eye For sundry weighty reasons. SECOND MURDERER We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us. FIRST MURDERER Though our lives— MACBETH Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant yourselves, Acquaint you with the perfect spy o’ th’ time, The moment on ’t, for ’t must be done tonight And something from the palace; always thought That I require a clearness. And with him (To leave no rubs nor botches in the work) Fleance, his son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me Than is his father’s, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart. I’ll come to you anon. MURDERERS We are resolved, my lord. MACBETH I’ll call upon you straight. Abide within. 140 145 150 155 160 Murderers exit. It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul’s flight, If it find heaven, must find it out tonight. He exits. Scene 2 Enter Macbeth’s Lady and a Servant. LADY MACBETH Is Banquo gone from court? SERVANT Ay, madam, but returns again tonight. LADY MACBETH Say to the King I would attend his leisure For a few words. SERVANT Madam, I will. LADY MACBETH Naught’s had, all’s spent, Where our desire is got without content. ’Tis safer to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. He exits. 5 Enter Macbeth. How now, my lord, why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making, Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without all remedy Should be without regard. What’s done is done. MACBETH We have scorched the snake, not killed it. She’ll close and be herself whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds 10 15 �suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave. After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst; nor steel nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further. LADY MACBETH Come on, gentle my lord, Sleek o’er your rugged looks. Be bright and jovial Among your guests tonight. MACBETH So shall I, love, And so I pray be you. Let your remembrance Apply to Banquo; present him eminence Both with eye and tongue: unsafe the while that we Must lave our honors in these flattering streams And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are. LADY MACBETH You must leave this. MACBETH O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know’st that Banquo and his Fleance lives. LADY MACBETH But in them nature’s copy’s not eterne. MACBETH There’s comfort yet; they are assailable. Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown His cloistered flight, ere to black Hecate’s summons The shard-born beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. LADY MACBETH What’s to be done? MACBETH Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed.—Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th’ rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, Whiles night’s black agents to their preys do rouse.— Thou marvel’st at my words, but hold thee still. Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. So prithee go with me. 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 They exit. Scene 3 Enter three Murderers. FIRST MURDERER But who did bid thee join with us? �THIRD MURDERER Macbeth. SECOND MURDERER, to the First Murderer He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and what we have to do To the direction just. FIRST MURDERER Then stand with us.— The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day. Now spurs the lated traveler apace To gain the timely inn, and near approaches The subject of our watch. THIRD MURDERER Hark, I hear horses. BANQUO, within Give us a light there, ho! SECOND MURDERER Then ’tis he. The rest That are within the note of expectation Already are i’ th’ court. FIRST MURDERER His horses go about. THIRD MURDERER Almost a mile; but he does usually (So all men do) from hence to th’ palace gate Make it their walk. 5 10 15 Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a torch. SECOND MURDERER A light, a light! 20 THIRD MURDERER ’Tis he. FIRST MURDERER Stand to ’t. BANQUO, to Fleance It will be rain tonight. FIRST MURDERER Let it come down! The three Murderers attack. BANQUO O treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! 25 Thou mayst revenge—O slave! He dies. Fleance exits. THIRD MURDERER Who did strike out the light? FIRST MURDERER Was ’t not the way? THIRD MURDERER There’s but one down. The son is fled. 30 SECOND MURDERER We have lost best half of our affair. FIRST MURDERER Well, let’s away and say how much is done. They exit. Scene 4 Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, Lennox, Lords, and Attendants. MACBETH You know your own degrees; sit down. At first And last, the hearty welcome. LORDS Thanks to your Majesty. MACBETH Ourself will mingle with society And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time They sit. 5 �We will require her welcome. LADY MACBETH Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends, For my heart speaks they are welcome. Enter First Murderer to the door. MACBETH See, they encounter thee with their hearts’ thanks. Both sides are even. Here I’ll sit i’ th’ midst. Be large in mirth. Anon we’ll drink a measure The table round. He approaches the Murderer. There’s blood upon thy face. MURDERER ’Tis Banquo’s then. MACBETH ’Tis better thee without than he within. Is he dispatched? MURDERER My lord, his throat is cut. That I did for him. MACBETH Thou art the best o’ th’ cutthroats, Yet he’s good that did the like for Fleance. If thou didst it, thou art the nonpareil. MURDERER Most royal sir, Fleance is ’scaped. MACBETH, aside Then comes my fit again. I had else been perfect, Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, As broad and general as the casing air. But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.—But Banquo’s safe? MURDERER Ay, my good lord. Safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenchèd gashes on his head, The least a death to nature. MACBETH Thanks for that. There the grown serpent lies. The worm that’s fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, No teeth for th’ present. Get thee gone. Tomorrow We’ll hear ourselves again. Murderer exits. LADY MACBETH My royal lord, You do not give the cheer. The feast is sold That is not often vouched, while ’tis a-making, ’Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home; From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony; Meeting were bare without it. 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeth’s place. MACBETH, to Lady Macbeth Sweet remembrancer!— Now, good digestion wait on appetite And health on both! LENNOX May ’t please your Highness sit. MACBETH Here had we now our country’s honor roofed, Were the graced person of our Banquo present, 45 �Who may I rather challenge for unkindness Than pity for mischance. ROSS His absence, sir, 50 Lays blame upon his promise. Please ’t your Highness To grace us with your royal company? MACBETH The table’s full. LENNOX Here is a place reserved, sir. 55 MACBETH Where? LENNOX Here, my good lord. What is ’t that moves your Highness? MACBETH Which of you have done this? LORDS What, my good lord? 60 MACBETH, to the Ghost Thou canst not say I did it. Never shake Thy gory locks at me. ROSS Gentlemen, rise. His Highness is not well. LADY MACBETH Sit, worthy friends. My lord is often thus And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat. 65 The fit is momentary; upon a thought He will again be well. If much you note him You shall offend him and extend his passion. Feed and regard him not. Drawing Macbeth aside. Are you a man? 70 MACBETH Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appall the devil. LADY MACBETH O, proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear. This is the air-drawn dagger which you said 75 Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, Impostors to true fear, would well become A woman’s story at a winter’s fire, Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all’s done, 80 You look but on a stool. MACBETH Prithee, see there. Behold, look! To the Ghost. Lo, how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.— If charnel houses and our graves must send 85 Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites. Ghost exits. LADY MACBETH What, quite unmanned in folly? MACBETH If I stand here, I saw him. LADY MACBETH Fie, for shame! 90 MACBETH Blood hath been shed ere now, i’ th’ olden time, Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been performed �Too terrible for the ear. The time has been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end. But now they rise again With twenty mortal murders on their crowns And push us from our stools. This is more strange Than such a murder is. LADY MACBETH My worthy lord, Your noble friends do lack you. MACBETH I do forget.— Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends. I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, love and health to all. Then I’ll sit down.—Give me some wine. Fill full. 95 100 105 Enter Ghost. I drink to th’ general joy o’ th’ whole table And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss. Would he were here! To all, and him we thirst, 110 And all to all. LORDS Our duties, and the pledge. They raise their drinking cups. MACBETH, to the Ghost Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee. Thy bones are marrowless; thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 115 Which thou dost glare with. LADY MACBETH Think of this, good peers, But as a thing of custom. ’Tis no other; Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. 120 MACBETH, to the Ghost What man dare, I dare. Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th’ Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble. Or be alive again 125 And dare me to the desert with thy sword. If trembling I inhabit then, protest me The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mock’ry, hence! Ghost exits. Why so, being gone, 130 I am a man again.—Pray you sit still. LADY MACBETH You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting With most admired disorder. MACBETH Can such things be 135 And overcome us like a summer’s cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe When now I think you can behold such sights And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks 140 When mine is blanched with fear. ROSS What sights, my lord? �LADY MACBETH I pray you, speak not. He grows worse and worse. Question enrages him. At once, good night. 145 Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once. LENNOX Good night, and better health Attend his Majesty. LADY MACBETH A kind good night to all. 150 Lords and all but Macbeth and Lady Macbeth exit. MACBETH It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood. Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak. Augurs and understood relations have By maggot pies and choughs and rooks brought 155 forth The secret’st man of blood.—What is the night? LADY MACBETH Almost at odds with morning, which is which. MACBETH How say’st thou that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding? 160 LADY MACBETH Did you send to him, sir? MACBETH I hear it by the way; but I will send. There’s not a one of them but in his house I keep a servant fee’d. I will tomorrow (And betimes I will) to the Weïrd Sisters. 165 More shall they speak, for now I am bent to know By the worst means the worst. For mine own good, All causes shall give way. I am in blood Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er. 170 Strange things I have in head that will to hand, Which must be acted ere they may be scanned. LADY MACBETH You lack the season of all natures, sleep. MACBETH Come, we’ll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use. 175 We are yet but young in deed. They exit. Scene 5 Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate. FIRST WITCH Why, how now, Hecate? You look angerly. HECATE Have I not reason, beldams as you are? Saucy and overbold, how did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death, And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never called to bear my part 5 �Or show the glory of our art? And which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now. Get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i’ th’ morning. Thither he Will come to know his destiny. Your vessels and your spells provide, Your charms and everything beside. I am for th’ air. This night I’ll spend Unto a dismal and a fatal end. Great business must be wrought ere noon. Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vap’rous drop profound. I’ll catch it ere it come to ground, And that, distilled by magic sleights, Shall raise such artificial sprites As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion. He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes ’bove wisdom, grace, and fear. And you all know, security Is mortals’ chiefest enemy. 10 15 20 25 30 Music and a song. Hark! I am called. My little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me. Hecate exits. 35 Sing within “Come away, come away,” etc. FIRST WITCH Come, let’s make haste. She’ll soon be back again. They exit. Scene 6 Enter Lennox and another Lord. LENNOX My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther. Only I say Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth; marry, he was dead. And the right valiant Banquo walked too late, Whom you may say, if ’t please you, Fleance killed, For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? Damnèd fact, How it did grieve Macbeth! Did he not straight In pious rage the two delinquents tear That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely, too, For ’twould have angered any heart alive To hear the men deny ’t. So that I say He has borne all things well. And I do think That had he Duncan’s sons under his key 5 10 15 �(As, an ’t please heaven, he shall not) they should find What ’twere to kill a father. So should Fleance. But peace. For from broad words, and ’cause he failed His presence at the tyrant’s feast, I hear Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself? LORD The son of Duncan (From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth) Lives in the English court and is received Of the most pious Edward with such grace That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff Is gone to pray the holy king upon his aid To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward That, by the help of these (with Him above To ratify the work), we may again Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, Do faithful homage, and receive free honors, All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate the King that he Prepares for some attempt of war. LENNOX Sent he to Macduff? LORD He did, and with an absolute “Sir, not I,” The cloudy messenger turns me his back And hums, as who should say “You’ll rue the time That clogs me with this answer.” LENNOX And that well might Advise him to a caution t’ hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England and unfold His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accursed. LORD I’ll send my prayers with him. 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 They exit. �ACT 4 Scene 1 Thunder. Enter the three Witches. FIRST WITCH Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. SECOND WITCH Thrice, and once the hedge-pig whined. THIRD WITCH Harpier cries “’Tis time, ’tis time!” FIRST WITCH Round about the cauldron go; In the poisoned entrails throw. 5 Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Sweltered venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ th’ charmèd pot. The Witches circle the cauldron. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; 10 Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. SECOND WITCH Fillet of a fenny snake In the cauldron boil and bake. Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, 15 Adder’s fork and blindworm’s sting, Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; 20 Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. THIRD WITCH Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witch’s mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravined salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digged i’ th’ dark, 25 Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat and slips of yew Slivered in the moon’s eclipse, Nose of Turk and Tartar’s lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe 30 Ditch-delivered by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab. Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron For th’ ingredience of our cauldron. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; 35 Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. SECOND WITCH Cool it with a baboon’s blood. �Then the charm is firm and good. Enter Hecate to the other three Witches. HECATE O, well done! I commend your pains, And everyone shall share i’ th’ gains. 40 And now about the cauldron sing Like elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in. Music and a song: “Black Spirits,” etc. Hecate exits. SECOND WITCH By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. 45 Open, locks, Whoever knocks. Enter Macbeth. MACBETH How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is ’t you do? ALL A deed without a name. MACBETH I conjure you by that which you profess (Howe’er you come to know it), answer me. Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches, though the yeasty waves Confound and swallow navigation up, Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down, Though castles topple on their warders’ heads, Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure Of nature’s germens tumble all together Even till destruction sicken, answer me To what I ask you. FIRST WITCH Speak. SECOND WITCH Demand. THIRD WITCH We’ll answer. FIRST WITCH Say if th’ hadst rather hear it from our mouths Or from our masters’. MACBETH Call ’em. Let me see ’em. FIRST WITCH Pour in sow’s blood that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease that’s sweaten From the murderers’ gibbet throw Into the flame. ALL Come high or low; Thyself and office deftly show. Thunder. First Apparition, an Armed Head. 50 55 60 65 70 75 �MACBETH Tell me, thou unknown power— FIRST WITCH He knows thy thought. Hear his speech but say thou naught. FIRST APPARITION Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff! Beware the Thane of Fife! Dismiss me. Enough. 80 He descends. MACBETH Whate’er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks. Thou hast harped my fear aright. But one word more— FIRST WITCH He will not be commanded. Here’s another More potent than the first. 85 Thunder. Second Apparition, a Bloody Child. SECOND APPARITION Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!— MACBETH Had I three ears, I’d hear thee. SECOND APPARITION Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scorn 90 The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth. He descends. MACBETH Then live, Macduff; what need I fear of thee? But yet I’ll make assurance double sure And take a bond of fate. Thou shalt not live, 95 That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder. Thunder. Third Apparition, a Child Crowned, with a tree in his hand. What is this That rises like the issue of a king And wears upon his baby brow the round And top of sovereignty? ALL Listen but speak not to ’t. THIRD APPARITION Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are. Macbeth shall never vanquished be until Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill Shall come against him. MACBETH That will never be. Who can impress the forest, bid the tree Unfix his earthbound root? Sweet bodements, good! Rebellious dead, rise never till the Wood Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart Throbs to know one thing. Tell me, if your art Can tell so much: shall Banquo’s issue ever Reign in this kingdom? 100 105 He descends. 110 115 �ALL Seek to know no more. MACBETH I will be satisfied. Deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know! 120 Cauldron sinks. Hautboys. Why sinks that cauldron? And what noise is this? FIRST WITCH Show. SECOND WITCH Show. THIRD WITCH Show. ALL Show his eyes and grieve his heart. 125 Come like shadows; so depart. A show of eight kings, the eighth king with a glass in his hand, and Banquo last. MACBETH Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo. Down! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former.—Filthy hags, 130 Why do you show me this?—A fourth? Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to th’ crack of doom? Another yet? A seventh? I’ll see no more. And yet the eighth appears who bears a glass Which shows me many more, and some I see 135 That twofold balls and treble scepters carry. Horrible sight! Now I see ’tis true, For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me And points at them for his. The Apparitions disappear. What, is this so? 140 FIRST WITCH Ay, sir, all this is so. But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites And show the best of our delights. I’ll charm the air to give a sound 145 While you perform your antic round, That this great king may kindly say Our duties did his welcome pay. Music. The Witches dance and vanish. MACBETH Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursèd in the calendar!— 150 Come in, without there. Enter Lennox. LENNOX What’s your Grace’s will? MACBETH Saw you the Weïrd Sisters? LENNOX No, my lord. MACBETH Came they not by you? LENNOX No, indeed, my lord. 155 �MACBETH Infected be the air whereon they ride, And damned all those that trust them! I did hear The galloping of horse. Who was ’t came by? LENNOX ’Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England. MACBETH Fled to England? LENNOX Ay, my good lord. MACBETH, aside Time, thou anticipat’st my dread exploits. The flighty purpose never is o’ertook Unless the deed go with it. From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise, Seize upon Fife, give to th’ edge o’ th’ sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool. But no more sights!—Where are these gentlemen? Come bring me where they are. 160 165 170 175 They exit. Scene 2 Enter Macduff’s Wife, her Son, and Ross. LADY MACDUFF What had he done to make him fly the land? ROSS You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none. His flight was madness. When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. ROSS You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. LADY MACDUFF Wisdom? To leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion and his titles in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. All is the fear, and nothing is the love, As little is the wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason. ROSS My dearest coz, I pray you school yourself. But for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o’ th’ season. I dare not speak much further; But cruel are the times when we are traitors And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumor From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, 5 10 15 20 �But float upon a wild and violent sea 25 Each way and move—I take my leave of you. Shall not be long but I’ll be here again. Things at the worst will cease or else climb upward To what they were before.—My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you. 30 LADY MACDUFF Fathered he is, and yet he’s fatherless. ROSS I am so much a fool, should I stay longer It would be my disgrace and your discomfort. I take my leave at once. Ross exits. LADY MACDUFF Sirrah, your father’s dead. 35 And what will you do now? How will you live? SON As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF What, with worms and flies? SON With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF Poor bird, thou ’dst never fear the net nor lime, 40 The pitfall nor the gin. SON Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying. LADY MACDUFF Yes, he is dead. How wilt thou do for a father? 45 SON Nay, how will you do for a husband? LADY MACDUFF Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. SON Then you’ll buy ’em to sell again. LADY MACDUFF Thou speak’st with all thy wit, And yet, i’ faith, with wit enough for thee. 50 SON Was my father a traitor, mother? LADY MACDUFF Ay, that he was. SON What is a traitor? LADY MACDUFF Why, one that swears and lies. SON And be all traitors that do so? 55 LADY MACDUFF Every one that does so is a traitor and must be hanged. SON And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? LADY MACDUFF Every one. SON Who must hang them? 60 LADY MACDUFF Why, the honest men. SON Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men and hang up them. LADY MACDUFF Now God help thee, poor monkey! But 65 how wilt thou do for a father? SON If he were dead, you’d weep for him. If you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. LADY MACDUFF Poor prattler, how thou talk’st! 70 Enter a Messenger. �MESSENGER Bless you, fair dame. I am not to you known, Though in your state of honor I am perfect. I doubt some danger does approach you nearly. If you will take a homely man’s advice, Be not found here. Hence with your little ones! 75 To fright you thus methinks I am too savage; To do worse to you were fell cruelty, Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! I dare abide no longer. Messenger exits. 80 LADY MACDUFF Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now I am in this earthly world, where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly. Why then, alas, 85 Do I put up that womanly defense To say I have done no harm? Enter Murderers. What are these faces? MURDERER Where is your husband? LADY MACDUFF I hope in no place so unsanctified 90 Where such as thou mayst find him. MURDERER He’s a traitor. SON Thou liest, thou shag-eared villain! MURDERER What, you egg? Stabbing him. Young fry of treachery! 95 SON He has killed me, mother. Run away, I pray you. Lady Macduff exits, crying “Murder!” followed by the Murderers bearing the Son’s body. Scene 3 Enter Malcolm and Macduff. MALCOLM Let us seek out some desolate shade and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. MACDUFF Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword and, like good men, Bestride our downfall’n birthdom. Each new morn New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yelled out Like syllable of dolor. MALCOLM What I believe, I’ll wail; What know, believe; and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will. What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, 5 10 �Was once thought honest. You have loved him well. He hath not touched you yet. I am young, but something You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb T’ appease an angry god. MACDUFF I am not treacherous. MALCOLM But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon. That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose. Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so. MACDUFF I have lost my hopes. MALCOLM Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife and child, Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, Without leave-taking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonors, But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think. MACDUFF Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dare not check thee. Wear thou thy wrongs; The title is affeered.—Fare thee well, lord. I would not be the villain that thou think’st For the whole space that’s in the tyrant’s grasp, And the rich East to boot. MALCOLM Be not offended. I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke. It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds. I think withal There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands. But, for all this, When I shall tread upon the tyrant’s head Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before, More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed. MACDUFF What should he be? MALCOLM It is myself I mean, in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be opened, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms. MACDUFF Not in the legions 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 �Of horrid hell can come a devil more damned In evils to top Macbeth. MALCOLM I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name. But there’s no bottom, none, In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters, Your matrons, and your maids could not fill up The cistern of my lust, and my desire All continent impediments would o’erbear That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth Than such an one to reign. MACDUFF Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th’ untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings. But fear not yet To take upon you what is yours. You may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty And yet seem cold—the time you may so hoodwink. We have willing dames enough. There cannot be That vulture in you to devour so many As will to greatness dedicate themselves, Finding it so inclined. MALCOLM With this there grows In my most ill-composed affection such A stanchless avarice that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands, Desire his jewels, and this other’s house; And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth. MACDUFF This avarice Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been The sword of our slain kings. Yet do not fear. Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will Of your mere own. All these are portable, With other graces weighed. MALCOLM But I have none. The king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temp’rance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. MACDUFF O Scotland, Scotland! MALCOLM If such a one be fit to govern, speak. I am as I have spoken. MACDUFF Fit to govern? No, not to live.—O nation miserable, 70 75 80 85 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 �With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptered, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accursed And does blaspheme his breed?—Thy royal father Was a most sainted king. The queen that bore thee, Oft’ner upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived. Fare thee well. These evils thou repeat’st upon thyself Hath banished me from Scotland.—O my breast, Thy hope ends here! MALCOLM Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good truth and honor. Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me From overcredulous haste. But God above Deal between thee and me, for even now I put myself to thy direction and Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself For strangers to my nature. I am yet Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my faith, would not betray The devil to his fellow, and delight No less in truth than life. My first false speaking Was this upon myself. What I am truly Is thine and my poor country’s to command— Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward with ten thousand warlike men, Already at a point, was setting forth. Now we’ll together, and the chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel. Why are you silent? MACDUFF Such welcome and unwelcome things at once ’Tis hard to reconcile. 125 130 135 140 145 150 155 Enter a Doctor. MALCOLM Well, more anon.— Comes the King forth, I pray you? DOCTOR Ay, sir. There are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure. Their malady convinces The great assay of art, but at his touch (Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand) They presently amend. MALCOLM I thank you, doctor. 160 165 Doctor exits. MACDUFF What’s the disease he means? MALCOLM ’Tis called the evil: A most miraculous work in this good king, Which often since my here-remain in England 170 �I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven Himself best knows, but strangely visited people All swoll’n and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy prayers; and, ’tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, And sundry blessings hang about his throne That speak him full of grace. 175 180 Enter Ross. MACDUFF See who comes here. MALCOLM My countryman, but yet I know him not. MACDUFF My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. MALCOLM I know him now.—Good God betimes remove The means that makes us strangers! ROSS Sir, amen. MACDUFF Stands Scotland where it did? ROSS Alas, poor country, Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot Be called our mother, but our grave, where nothing But who knows nothing is once seen to smile; Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rent the air Are made, not marked; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy. The dead man’s knell Is there scarce asked for who, and good men’s lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken. MACDUFF O relation too nice and yet too true! MALCOLM What’s the newest grief? ROSS That of an hour’s age doth hiss the speaker. Each minute teems a new one. MACDUFF How does my wife? ROSS Why, well. MACDUFF And all my children? ROSS Well too. MACDUFF The tyrant has not battered at their peace? ROSS No, they were well at peace when I did leave ’em. MACDUFF Be not a niggard of your speech. How goes ’t? ROSS When I came hither to transport the tidings Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumor Of many worthy fellows that were out; Which was to my belief witnessed the rather 185 190 195 200 205 210 �For that I saw the tyrant’s power afoot. Now is the time of help. Your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight To doff their dire distresses. MALCOLM Be ’t their comfort We are coming thither. Gracious England hath Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men; An older and a better soldier none That Christendom gives out. ROSS Would I could answer This comfort with the like. But I have words That would be howled out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them. MACDUFF What concern they— The general cause, or is it a fee-grief Due to some single breast? ROSS No mind that’s honest But in it shares some woe, though the main part Pertains to you alone. MACDUFF If it be mine, Keep it not from me. Quickly let me have it. ROSS Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard. MACDUFF Hum! I guess at it. ROSS Your castle is surprised, your wife and babes Savagely slaughtered. To relate the manner Were on the quarry of these murdered deer To add the death of you. MALCOLM Merciful heaven!— What, man, ne’er pull your hat upon your brows. Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak Whispers the o’erfraught heart and bids it break. MACDUFF My children too? ROSS Wife, children, servants, all that could be found. MACDUFF And I must be from thence? My wife killed too? ROSS I have said. MALCOLM Be comforted. Let’s make us med’cines of our great revenge To cure this deadly grief. MACDUFF He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say “all”? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop? MALCOLM Dispute it like a man. MACDUFF I shall do so, But I must also feel it as a man. I cannot but remember such things were That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, 215 220 225 230 235 240 245 250 255 260 �They were all struck for thee! Naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now. MALCOLM Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief Convert to anger. Blunt not the heart; enrage it. MACDUFF O, I could play the woman with mine eyes And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens, Cut short all intermission! Front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself. Within my sword’s length set him. If he ’scape, Heaven forgive him too. MALCOLM This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the King. Our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day. 265 270 275 280 They exit. �ACT 5 Scene 1 Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman. DOCTOR I have two nights watched with you but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? GENTLEWOMAN Since his Majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon ’t, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. DOCTOR A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching. In this slumb’ry agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what at any time have you heard her say? GENTLEWOMAN That, sir, which I will not report after her. DOCTOR You may to me, and ’tis most meet you should. GENTLEWOMAN Neither to you nor anyone, having no witness to confirm my speech. 5 10 15 20 Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper. Lo you, here she comes. This is her very guise and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. DOCTOR How came she by that light? GENTLEWOMAN Why, it stood by her. She has light by her continually. ’Tis her command. DOCTOR You see her eyes are open. GENTLEWOMAN Ay, but their sense are shut. DOCTOR What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands. GENTLEWOMAN It is an accustomed action with her to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. LADY MACBETH Yet here’s a spot. DOCTOR Hark, she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. LADY MACBETH Out, damned spot, out, I say! One. Two. Why then, ’tis time to do ’t. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? DOCTOR Do you mark that? LADY MACBETH The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now? What, will these hands ne’er be clean? No 25 30 35 40 45 �more o’ that, my lord, no more o’ that. You mar all with this starting. DOCTOR Go to, go to. You have known what you should not. GENTLEWOMAN She has spoke what she should not, 50 I am sure of that. Heaven knows what she has known. LADY MACBETH Here’s the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. O, O, O! 55 DOCTOR What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. GENTLEWOMAN I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body. DOCTOR Well, well, well. 60 GENTLEWOMAN Pray God it be, sir. DOCTOR This disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. LADY MACBETH Wash your hands. Put on your nightgown. 65 Look not so pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo’s buried; he cannot come out on ’s grave. DOCTOR Even so? LADY MACBETH To bed, to bed. There’s knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come. Give me your 70 hand. What’s done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed. Lady Macbeth exits. DOCTOR Will she go now to bed? GENTLEWOMAN Directly. DOCTOR Foul whisp’rings are abroad. Unnatural deeds 75 Do breed unnatural troubles. Infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine than the physician. God, God forgive us all. Look after her. Remove from her the means of all annoyance 80 And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night. My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight. I think but dare not speak. GENTLEWOMAN Good night, good doctor. They exit. Scene 2 Drum and Colors. Enter Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, and Soldiers. MENTEITH The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. Revenges burn in them, for their dear causes Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm Excite the mortified man. ANGUS Near Birnam Wood Shall we well meet them. That way are they coming. CAITHNESS Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother? 5 �LENNOX For certain, sir, he is not. I have a file Of all the gentry. There is Siward’s son 10 And many unrough youths that even now Protest their first of manhood. MENTEITH What does the tyrant? CAITHNESS Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies. Some say he’s mad; others that lesser hate him 15 Do call it valiant fury. But for certain He cannot buckle his distempered cause Within the belt of rule. ANGUS Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands. 20 Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach. Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love. Now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe Upon a dwarfish thief. 25 MENTEITH Who, then, shall blame His pestered senses to recoil and start When all that is within him does condemn Itself for being there? CAITHNESS Well, march we on 30 To give obedience where ’tis truly owed. Meet we the med’cine of the sickly weal, And with him pour we in our country’s purge Each drop of us. LENNOX Or so much as it needs 35 To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam. They exit marching. Scene 3 Enter Macbeth, the Doctor, and Attendants. MACBETH Bring me no more reports. Let them fly all. Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane I cannot taint with fear. What’s the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus: “Fear not, Macbeth. No man that’s born of woman Shall e’er have power upon thee.” Then fly, false thanes, And mingle with the English epicures. The mind I sway by and the heart I bear Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. 5 10 Enter Servant. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! Where got’st thou that goose-look? SERVANT There is ten thousand— MACBETH Geese, villain? SERVANT Soldiers, sir. 15 �MACBETH Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-livered boy. What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul! Those linen cheeks of thine Are counselors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? SERVANT The English force, so please you. MACBETH Take thy face hence. Seyton!—I am sick at heart When I behold—Seyton, I say!—This push Will cheer me ever or disseat me now. I have lived long enough. My way of life Is fall’n into the sere, the yellow leaf, And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have, but in their stead Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not.— Seyton! 20 Servant exits. 25 30 Enter Seyton. SEYTON What’s your gracious pleasure? 35 MACBETH What news more? SEYTON All is confirmed, my lord, which was reported. MACBETH I’ll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked. Give me my armor. SEYTON ’Tis not needed yet. 40 MACBETH I’ll put it on. Send out more horses. Skirr the country round. Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armor.— How does your patient, doctor? 45 DOCTOR Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies That keep her from her rest. MACBETH Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, 50 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? 55 DOCTOR Therein the patient Must minister to himself. MACBETH Throw physic to the dogs. I’ll none of it.— Come, put mine armor on. Give me my staff. Attendants begin to arm him. Seyton, send out.—Doctor, the thanes fly from 60 me.— Come, sir, dispatch.—If thou couldst, doctor, cast �The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo That should applaud again.—Pull ’t off, I say.— What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug Would scour these English hence? Hear’st thou of them? DOCTOR Ay, my good lord. Your royal preparation Makes us hear something. MACBETH Bring it after me.— I will not be afraid of death and bane Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane. DOCTOR, aside Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here. 65 70 75 They exit. Scene 4 Drum and Colors. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, Siward’s son, Menteith, Caithness, Angus, and Soldiers, marching. MALCOLM Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe. MENTEITH We doubt it nothing. SIWARD What wood is this before us? MENTEITH The Wood of Birnam. 5 MALCOLM Let every soldier hew him down a bough And bear ’t before him. Thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host and make discovery Err in report of us. SOLDIER It shall be done. 10 SIWARD We learn no other but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane and will endure Our setting down before ’t. MALCOLM ’Tis his main hope; For, where there is advantage to be given, 15 Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrainèd things Whose hearts are absent too. MACDUFF Let our just censures Attend the true event, and put we on 20 Industrious soldiership. SIWARD The time approaches That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have and what we owe. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, 25 But certain issue strokes must arbitrate; Towards which, advance the war. They exit marching. �Scene 5 Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers, with Drum and Colors. MACBETH Hang out our banners on the outward walls. The cry is still “They come!” Our castle’s strength Will laugh a siege to scorn. Here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up. Were they not forced with those that should be 5 ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. A cry within of women. What is that noise? SEYTON It is the cry of women, my good lord. He exits. 10 MACBETH I have almost forgot the taste of fears. The time has been my senses would have cooled To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in ’t. I have supped full with horrors. 15 Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me. Enter Seyton. Wherefore was that cry? SEYTON The Queen, my lord, is dead. MACBETH She should have died hereafter. There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. 20 25 30 Enter a Messenger. Thou com’st to use thy tongue: thy story quickly. MESSENGER Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do ’t. MACBETH Well, say, sir. MESSENGER As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I looked toward Birnam, and anon methought The Wood began to move. MACBETH Liar and slave! 35 40 �MESSENGER Let me endure your wrath if ’t be not so. Within this three mile may you see it coming. I say, a moving grove. MACBETH If thou speak’st false, Upon the next tree shall thou hang alive Till famine cling thee. If thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much.— I pull in resolution and begin To doubt th’ equivocation of the fiend, That lies like truth. “Fear not till Birnam Wood Do come to Dunsinane,” and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane.—Arm, arm, and out!— If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. I ’gin to be aweary of the sun And wish th’ estate o’ th’ world were now undone.— Ring the alarum bell!—Blow wind, come wrack, At least we’ll die with harness on our back. 45 50 55 They exit. Scene 6 Drum and Colors. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their army, with boughs. MALCOLM Now near enough. Your leafy screens throw down And show like those you are.—You, worthy uncle, Shall with my cousin, your right noble son, Lead our first battle. Worthy Macduff and we Shall take upon ’s what else remains to do, According to our order. SIWARD Fare you well. Do we but find the tyrant’s power tonight, Let us be beaten if we cannot fight. MACDUFF Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. 5 10 They exit. Alarums continued. Scene 7 Enter Macbeth. MACBETH They have tied me to a stake. I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What’s he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. Enter young Siward. YOUNG SIWARD What is thy name? MACBETH Thou ’lt be afraid to hear it. 5 �YOUNG SIWARD No, though thou call’st thyself a hotter name Than any is in hell. MACBETH My name’s Macbeth. YOUNG SIWARD The devil himself could not pronounce a title 10 More hateful to mine ear. MACBETH No, nor more fearful. YOUNG SIWARD Thou liest, abhorrèd tyrant. With my sword I’ll prove the lie thou speak’st. They fight, and young Siward is slain. MACBETH Thou wast born of 15 woman. But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandished by man that’s of a woman born. He exits. Alarums. Enter Macduff. MACDUFF That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! If thou beest slain, and with no stroke of mine, 20 My wife and children’s ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves. Either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword with an unbattered edge I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; 25 By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, Fortune, And more I beg not. He exits. Alarums. Enter Malcolm and Siward. SIWARD This way, my lord. The castle’s gently rendered. The tyrant’s people on both sides do fight, The noble thanes do bravely in the war, The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do. MALCOLM We have met with foes That strike beside us. SIWARD Enter, sir, the castle. 30 35 They exit. Alarum. Scene 8 Enter Macbeth. MACBETH Why should I play the Roman fool and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. Enter Macduff. MACDUFF Turn, hellhound, turn! �MACBETH Of all men else I have avoided thee. 5 But get thee back. My soul is too much charged With blood of thine already. MACDUFF I have no words; My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out. Fight. Alarum. 10 MACBETH Thou losest labor. As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed. Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmèd life, which must not yield 15 To one of woman born. MACDUFF Despair thy charm, And let the angel whom thou still hast served Tell thee Macduff was from his mother’s womb Untimely ripped. 20 MACBETH Accursèd be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cowed my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believed That palter with us in a double sense, That keep the word of promise to our ear 25 And break it to our hope. I’ll not fight with thee. MACDUFF Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o’ th’ time. We’ll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole, and underwrit 30 “Here may you see the tyrant.” MACBETH I will not yield To kiss the ground before young Malcolm’s feet And to be baited with the rabble’s curse. Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane 35 And thou opposed, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, And damned be him that first cries “Hold! Enough!” They exit fighting. Alarums. They enter fighting, and Macbeth is slain. Macduff exits carrying off Macbeth’s body. Retreat and flourish. Enter, with Drum and Colors, Malcolm, Siward, Ross, Thanes, and Soldiers. MALCOLM I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. SIWARD Some must go off; and yet by these I see So great a day as this is cheaply bought. MALCOLM Macduff is missing, and your noble son. ROSS Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier’s debt. He only lived but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his prowess confirmed In the unshrinking station where he fought, 40 45 �But like a man he died. SIWARD Then he is dead? ROSS Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow Must not be measured by his worth, for then It hath no end. SIWARD Had he his hurts before? ROSS Ay, on the front. SIWARD Why then, God’s soldier be he! Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death; And so his knell is knolled. MALCOLM He’s worth more sorrow, and that I’ll spend for him. 60 SIWARD He’s worth no more. They say he parted well and paid his score, And so, God be with him. Here comes newer comfort. 50 55 Enter Macduff with Macbeth’s head. MACDUFF Hail, King! for so thou art. Behold where stands Th’ usurper’s cursèd head. The time is free. I see thee compassed with thy kingdom’s pearl, That speak my salutation in their minds, Whose voices I desire aloud with mine. Hail, King of Scotland! ALL Hail, King of Scotland! MALCOLM We shall not spend a large expense of time Before we reckon with your several loves And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen, Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an honor named. What’s more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exiled friends abroad That fled the snares of watchful tyranny, Producing forth the cruel ministers Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen (Who, as ’tis thought, by self and violent hands, Took off her life)—this, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the grace of grace, We will perform in measure, time, and place. So thanks to all at once and to each one, Whom we invite to see us crowned at Scone. 65 70 Flourish. 75 80 85 Flourish. All 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 Macbeth Subject The topic of the resource A Macbeth címá dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A Macbeth 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! - Így add tovább! 2.5 Magyarország Licenc Language A language of the resource magyar angol License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! - Így add tovább! 2.5 Magyarország Licenc Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. digitális gyűjtemény Zotero Author Almási Zsolt Date 2016. 02. 19. Language magyar Publisher Almási Zsolt Title Macbeth gyűjtemény URL https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/collections/show/2 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 Macbeth (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 http://www.folgerdigitaltexts.org/?chapter=5&play=Mac 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 tragédia 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. Digitális szöveg Zotero Author William Shakespeare Book Author William Shakespeare Editor Barbara A. Mowat Paul Werstine Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Macbeth Date 2006 Genre tragédia 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. URL http://www.folgerdigitaltexts.org/?chapter=5&play=Mac https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/eb751388457d2cc27bdec2403c5a05e3.pdf 6a0f4d8a17183a19749bd2c422db83fa PDF Text Text THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH Act I Scene I. [An open Heath.] [Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches] 1 WITCH When shall we three meet again? In Thunder, Lightning, or in Rain? 2 WITCH When the Hurly-burly's done, When the Battle's lost and won. 3 WITCH That will be ere the set of Sun. 1 WITCH Where the place? 2 WITCH Upon the Heath. 3 Witch There to meet with Macbeth. 1 WITCH I come, Gray-Malkin! ALL Paddock calls: - anon! Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy Air [They rise from the Stage, and fly away.] Scene II. [A Palace.] [Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbain, Lenox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.] KING What bloody Man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his Plight, of the Revolt The newest State. [Q3] �[2302] MALCOLM This is the Serjeant, Who like a good and hardy Soldier fought 'Gainst my Captivity; Hail, hail, brave Friend! Say to the King, the Knowledge of the broil, As thou didst leave it. CAPTAIN Doubtful it stood; As two spent Swimmers, that do cling together, And choak their Art: The merciless Macdonnel (Worthy to be a Rebel, for to that The multiplying Villanies of Nature Do swarm upon him) from the Western Isles Of Kernes and Gallow-glasses is supply'd, And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling, Shew'd like a Rebels Whore. But all's too weak: For brave Macbeth, well he deserves that Name, Disdaining Fortune, with his brandisht Steel, Which smoak'd with bloody Execution, Like Valours Minion, carv'd out his Passage, 'Till he fac'd the Slave; Which never shook Hands, nor bid farewel to him, 'Till he unseam'd him from the Nave to th' Chops, And fix'd his Head upon our Battlements. KING O valiant Cousin! worthy Gentleman! CAPTAIN As whence the Sun gins his Reflection, Shipwracking Storms and direful Thunders breaking; So from that Spring, whence Comfort seem'd to come; Discomfort swells: Mark, King of Scotland, mark; No sooner Justice had, with Valour arm'd, Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their Heels. But the Norweyan Lord furveying Vantage, With furbisht Arms and new Supplies of Men, Began a fresh assault. KING Dismaid not this our Captains, Macbeth and Banquo? CAPTAIN Yes, as Sparrows Eagles; Or the Hare the Lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were �As Cannons overcharg'd with double Cracks, So they doubly redoubled Stroaks on the Foe: Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha, [2303] I cannot tellBut I am faint, my Gashes cry for helpKING So well thy Words become thee, as thy Wounds; They smack of Honour both: Go, get him Surgeons. [Enter Rosse and Angus.] Who comes here? MALCOLM The worthy Thane of Rosse. LENOX What haste looks through his Eyes? So should he look, that seems to speak things strange. ROSSE God save the King. KING Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane? ROSSE From Fife, great King, Where the Norweyan Banners flout the Sky, And fan our People Cold. Norway himself, with terrible Numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal Traitor, The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal Conflict, 'Till that Bellona's Bridegroom, lapt in proof, Confronted him with Self-comparisons, Point against Point, rebellious Arm 'gainst Arm, Curbing his lavish Spirit: And to conclude, The Victory fell on us. KING Great Happiness. ROSSE That now Sweno, the Norway's King, �Craves Composition: Nor would we deign him burial of his Men, 'Till he disbursed, at St. Colmes-hill, Ten thousand Dollars, to our general use. KING No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom Interest. Go, pronounce him present Death, And with his former Title, greet Macbeth. ROSSE I'll see it done. KING What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. [Exeunt] SCENE III. [The Heath.} [Thunder. Enter the three Witches.] 1 WITCH Where hast thou been, Sister? 2 WITCH Killing Swine. [Q4] [2304] 3 WITCH Sister, where thou? 1 WITCH A Sailor's Wife had Chestnuts in her Lap, And mouncht, and mouncht, and mouncht; Give me, quoth I. Aroint thee, Witch, the Rump-fed Ronyon cries. Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Master o'th' Tiger; But in a Sieve I'll thither fail, And like a Rat without a Tail, I'll do — I'll do - and I'll do. 2 WITCH I'll give thee a Wind, 1 Witch �Th'art kind. 3 WITCH And I another. 1 WITCH I my self have all the other, And the very Ports they blow, All the Quarters that they know, I'th' Ship-man's Card. I'll drain him dry as Hay; Sleep shall neither Night nor Day, Hang upon his Pent-house Lid; He shall live a Man forbid; Weary Sev'nights, nine times nine. Shall he dwindle, peak and pine: Though his Bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost. Look what I have. 2 WITCH Shew me, shew me. 1 WITCH Here, I have a Pilot's Thumb, Wrackt as homeward he did come. [Drum within.] 3 WITCH A Drum, a Drum. Macbeth doth come. ALL The weyward Sisters, Hand in Hand, Posters of the Sea and Land, Thus do go about, about, Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine. And thrice again to make up nine. Peace, the Charm's wound up. [Enter Macbeth and Banquo, with Soldiers and other Attendants] MACBETH So foul and fair a Day I have not seen. BANQUO How far is't call'd to Soris? — What are these? So wither'd, and so wild in their attire, �That look not like th' Inhabitants o'th' Earth, [2305] And yet are on't? Live you, or are you ought That Man in question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy Finger laying Upon her skinny Lips.— You should be Women, And yet your Beards forbid me to interpret That you are so. MACBETH Speak if you can; what are you? 1 WITCH All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! 2 WITCH All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! 3 WITCH All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be King hereafter. BANQUO Good Sir, why do you start, and seem to fear Things that do found fo fair? i'th' the name of Truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed [To the Witches.] Which outwardly ye shew? my noble Partner, You greet with present Grace, and great Prediction Of noble having, and of Royal hope, That he seems wrapt withal,to me you speak not. If you can look into the Seeds of Time, And fay, which Grain will grow, and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear, Your Favours, nor your Hate. 1 WITCH Hail! 2 WITCH Hail! 3 WITCH Hail! 1 WITCH �Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. 2 WITCH Not so happy, yet much happier. 3 WITCH Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none; So all hail ! Macbeth and Banqou. 1 WITCH Banqou and Macbeth, all hail! MACBETH Stay, you imperfect Speakers, tell me more; By Sinel's Death I know I am Thane of Glamis; But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous Gentleman; and to be King, Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange Intelligence? or why, Upon this blasted Heath you stop our way, With such Prophetick Greeting? Speak, I charge you. [Witches vanish.] BANQUO The Earth hath bubbles as the Water hath; And these are of them: Whither are they vanish'd? [2306] MACBETH Into the Air: and what seem'd corporal, Melted, as breath into the Wind. Would they had staid. BANQUO Were such things here, as we do speak about? Or have we eaten of the insane Root, That takes the Reason Prisoner? MACBETH Your Children shall be Kings. BANQUO You shall be King. MACBETH �And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so? BANQUO To th' self-same tune, and words; who's here? [Enter Rosse and Angus.] ROSSE The King hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, The News of thy Succes; and when he reads Thy personal Venture in the Rebels Fight, His Wonders and his Praises do contend, Which should be thine or his; Silenc'd with that, In viewing o'er the rest o' th' self-same day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan Ranks, Nothing afraid, of what thy self didst make, Strange Images of Death; is thick as Hail Came Post with Post, and every one did bear Thy Praises in his Kingdom's great Defence, And pour'd them down before him. ANGUS We are sent, To give thee, from our Royal Master, Thanks, Only to Herald thee into this fight, Not pay thee. ROSSE And for an earnest of a greater Honour, He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor; In which Addition, hail, most worthy Thane! For it is thine. BANQOU What, can the Devil speak true? MACBETH The Thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress me in this borrowed Robes? ANGUS Who was the Thane, lives yet, But under heavy Judgment bears that Life, Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway, Or else did line the Rebel with hidden help, And vantage, or that with both he labour'd In his Country's wrack, I know not: �[2307] But Treasons Capital, confess'd and prov'd, Have overthrown him. MACBETH Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor! [Aside] The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains. [To Angus] Do you not hope your Children shall be Kings? [To Banquo] When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me, Promis'd no less to them? BANQUO That trusted home, Might yet enkindle you into the Crown, Besides the Thane of Cawdor, But 'tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The Instruments of darkness tell us Truths, Win us with honest Trifles, to betray's In deepest Consequence, Cousins, a word, I pray you. [To Rosse and Angus] MACBETH Two Truths are told, [Aside.] As happy Prologues to the swelling Act Of the imperial Theam. I thank you, Gentlemen This supernatural solliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good - If ill: Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good: Why do I yield to that Suggestion, Whose horrid Image doth unfix my Hair. And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribs, Against the use of Nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings: My thought, whose murther yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single State of Man, That Function is smother'd in surmise, And nothing is, but what is not. BANQUO Look how our Partner's rapt. �MACBETH If Chance will have me King, why Chance may crown me [Aside] Without my stir. BANQUO New Honours come upon him, Like our strange Garments, cleave not to their mould, But with the aid of use. MACBETH Come what come may, Time and the Hour runs thro' the roughest Day. [2308] BANQUO Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. MACBETH Give me your Favour: My dull Brain was wrought with things forgotten, Kind Gentlemen, your Pains are registred, Where every Day I turn the Leaf to read them. Let us toward the King; think upon [To Banquo] What hath chanc'd, and at one more time, The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak Our free Hearts each to other. BANQUO Very gladly. MACBETH 'Till then enough: Come, Friends. [Exeunt] Scene IV. [A Palace.} [Flourish. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbain, Lenox, and Attendants] KING Is Execution done on Cawdor? Are not those in Commission yet return'd? MALCOLM My Liege, they are not yet come back. �But I have spoke with one that saw him die: Who did report, that very frankly he Confess'd his Treasons, implor'd your Highness pardon, And set forth a deep Repentance, Nothing in his Life became him, Like the Leaving it. He dy'd, As one that had been studied in his Death, To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, As twere a careless trifle. KING There's no Art, To find the Mind's Construction in the Face: He was a Gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. [Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus] O worthiest Cousin! The Sin of my Ingratitude even now Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before, That swiftest Wind of Recompence is slow, To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserv'd [2309] That the Proportion both of Thanks and Payment, Might have been mine: Only I have left say, More is thy due, than more than all can pay. MACBETH The Service and the Loyalty I owe, In doing it, pays it self. Your Highness part is to receive our Duties; And our Duties are to your Throne and State, Children and Servants; which do but what they should, By doing every thing safe toward your Love And Honour. KING Welcome hither: I have begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserv'd, and must be known. No less to have done so: Let me enfold thee, And hold thee to my Heart. BANQOU There if I grow, The Harvest is your own. �KING My plenteous Joys, Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves In drops of Sorrow. Sons, Kinsman, Thanes, And you, whose Places are the nearest, know, We will establish our Estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter, The Prince of Cumberland: Which Honour must Not unaccompanied, invest him only, But signs of Nobleness, like Stars shall shine On all Deservers. From hence to Enverness, And bind us further to you. MACBETH The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you; I'11 be my self the Harbinger, and make joyful The hearing of my Wife with your approach, So humbly take my leave. KING My worthy Cawdor! MACBETH The Prince of Cumberland! — that is a step. On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap, [Aside] For in my way it lies. Stars hide your Fires, Let not Light see my black and deep desires; The Eye wink at the Hand; yet let that be, Which the Eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Exit] [2310] KING True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant, And in his Commendations I am fed; It is a Banquet to me, let's after him, Whose care is gone before, to bid us welcome: It is a peerless Kinsman. [Exeunt] Scene V. [An Apartment in Macbeth's Castle.] [Enter Lady Macbeth alone with a Letter.] LADY MACBETH They met me in the Day of Success; and I have learn'd by the perfectest Report, they have more in them, than mortal �Knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them further, they made themselves Air, into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missives from the King, who all, hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which Title before these wayward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to the coming on of time, with hail King that shalt be. This have I thought good to deliver thee (my dearest partner of Greatness) that thou might'st not lose the dues of rejoycing by being ignorant of what Greatness is promis'd thee. Lay it to thy Heart, and farewel. Glamis thou art, and Cawdor — and shalt be What thou art promis'd. Yet I do fear thy Nature, It is too full o'th' Milk of human Kindness, To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great, Art not without Ambition, but without The Illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou'dst have, great Glamis that which cries, Thus thou must do if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do, Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither, That I may pour my Spirits in thine Ear, And chastise with the Valour of my Tongue All that thee hinders from the Golden Round, Which Fate and Metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal. [Enter Messenger] What is your Tidings? [2311] MESSENGER The King comes here to Night. LADY MACBETH Thou'rt mad to say it. Is not thy Master with him? who wer't so, Would have inform'd for Preparation. MESSENGER So please you, it is true: Our Thane is coming, One of my Fellows had the speed of him; Who almost dead for Breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his Message. LADY MACBETH Give him tending. He brings great News. The Raven himself Is hoarse, �[Exit Messenger] That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my Battlements. Come you Spirits, That tend on mortal Thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the Crown to the Toe, top-full Of direst Cruelty; make thick my Blood, Stop up the access and passage to Remorse, That no compunctious visitings of Nature Shake my fell Purpose, nor keep Peace between Th' effect, and it. Come to my Woman's Breasts, And take my Milk for Gall, you murth'ring Ministers, Where-ever in your sightless Substances. You wait on Nature's Mischief. Come, thick Night, And pall thee in the dunnest Smoak of Hell, That my keen Knife see not the wound it makes, Nor Heav'n peep through the Blanket of the dark, To cry, hold, hold, [Enter Macbeth] Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor! [Embracing him] Greater than both, by the all hail hereafter, Thy Letters have transported me beyond This ignorant Present, and I feel now The future in the instant. MACBETH My dearest Love, Duncan comes here to Night. LADY MACBETH And when goes hence? MACBETH To Morrow, as he purposes. LADY MACBETH O never Shall Sun that Morrow fee. Your Face, my Thane, is as a Book, where Men May read strange Matters to beguile the time. [2312] Look like the time, bear welcome in your Eye, Your Hand, your Tongue; look like the innocent Flower, But be the Serpent under't. He that's coming, Must be provided for; and you shall put This Night's great Business into my dispatch, Which shall to all our Nights and Days to come, �Give solely sovereign Sway and Masterdom. MACBETH We will speak further. LADY MACBETH Only look up clear: To alter Favour ever is to fear. Leave all the rest to me. [Exeunt] SCENE IV. [The Castle Gate.] [Hautboys and Torches. Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lenox, Macduff, Rosse, Angus and Attendants.] KING This Castle hath a pleasant Seat; the Air Nimbly and sweetly recommends it self Unto our gentle Senses. BANQUO This Guest of Summer. The Temple-haunting Martlet does approve, By his lov'd Mansonry, that the Heav'n's breath Smells wooingly here. No jutty frieze, Buttrice, nor Coigne of Vantage, but this Bird Hath made his pendant Bed, and procreant Cradle: Where they most breed, and haunt, I have observ'd, The Air is delicate. [Enter Lady Macbeth] KING See! see, our honour'd Hostess! The Love that follows us, sometime is our Trouble, Which still we thank as Love. Herein I teach you, How you shall bid god-eyld us for your Pains, And thank us for your Trouble. LADY MACBETH All our Service. In every point twice done, and then done double, Were poor, and single Business, who contend Against those Honours deep, and broad, Where with your Majesty loads our House: For those of old, and the late Dignities, Heap'd up to them, we rest your Hermits. �[2313] KING Where's the Thane of Cawdor? We courst him at the Heels, and had a purpose To be his Purveyor: But he rides well, And his great Love, sharp as his Spur, hath holp him To his home before us: Fair and noble Hostess, We are your Guest to Night. LADY MACBETH Your Servants ever, Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in compt, To make their Audit at your Highness Pleasure, Still to return your own. KING Give me your Hand; Conduct me to mine Host, we love him highly, And shall continue our Graces towards him. By your leave, Hostess. [Exeunt] SCENE VII. [An Apartment.] [Hautboys, Torches. Enter divers Servants with Dishes and Service ever the Stage. Then Macbeth.] MACBETH If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly; if the Assassination Could trammel up the Consequence, and catch With his surcease, Success; that but this blow Might be the all, and be the end of all - Here, But here, upon this Bank and School of time — We'ld jump the Life to come. But in these Cases, We still have Judgment here; that we but teach Bloody Instructions, which being taught, return To plague th'ingredience of our poison'd Chalice To our own Lips. He's here in double trust: First, as I am his Kinsman, and his Subject, Strong both against the Deed; then, as his Host, Who should against his Murtherer shut the Door, Not bear the Knife my self. Besides, this Duncan, Hath born his Faculty to meek, hath been So clear in his great Office, that his Virtues Will plead like Angels, Trumpet tongu'd against The deep Damnation of his taking off: And Pity, like a naked New-born Babe, �Striding the Blast, or Heav'ns Cherubin, hors'd [Vol. V] [R] [2314] Upon the sightless Curriers of the Air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every Eye, That Tears shall drown the Wind. I have no Spur To prick the sides of my Intent, but only Vauling Ambition, which o'er-leaps it self [Enter Lady Macbeth.] And falls on th' other How now? What News? LADY MACBETH He has almost sup'd; why have you left the Chamber? MACBETH Hath he ask'd for me? LADY MACBETH Know you not, he has? MACBETH We will proceed no further in this Business. He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought Golden Opinions from all sorts of People, Which would be worn now in their newest Gloss, Not cast aside so soon. LADY MACBETH Was the hope drunk, Wherein you drest your self? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now to look so green and pale, At what it did so freely? From this time, Such I account thy love. Art thou afraid To be the same in thine own Act and Valour, As thou art in desire? wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life, And live a Coward in thine own Esteem? Letting I dare not, wait upon I would, like the poor Cat i'th' Adage. MACBETH Prethee, Peace: I dare do all that may become a Man; Who dares do more is none. �LADY MACBETH What Beast was't then, That made you break this enterprize to me? When you dust do it, then you were a Man; Aid to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the Man. Nor time, nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Do's unmake you. I have given Suck, and know How tender 'tis to love, the Babe that milks me I would, while it was smiling in my Face, Have pluckt my Nipple from his boneless Gums, [2315] And dasht the Brains out, had I but so sworn As you have done too this. MACBETH If we should fail? LADY MACBETH We fail! But screw your Courage to the sticking Place, And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep, (Whereto the rather shall his day's hard Journey Soundly invite him) his two Chamberlains Will I with Wine and Wassel, so convince, That Memory, the warder of the Brain, Shall be a Fume, and the receipt of Reason A Limbeck only; when in swinish sleep Their drenched Natures lye is in a Death, What cannot you and I perform upon Th'unguarded Duncan? What, not put upon His spungy Officers, who shall bear the Guile Of our great Quell? MACBETH Bring forth Men-Children only: For thy undaunted Metal should compose Nothing but Males. Will it not be receiv'd, When we have mark'd with Blood those sleepy two Of his own Chamber, and us'd their very Daggers That they have don't? LADY MACBETH Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our Griefs and Clamour roar, Upon his Death? �MACBETH I am setled, and bend up Each corporal Agent to this terrible Feat, Away, and mock the time with fairest show, False Face must hide what the false Heart doth know. [Exeunt] Act II. Scene I. [A Hall] [Enter Banquo and Fleance with a Torch before him.] BANQUO How goes the Night, Boy? FLEANCE The Moon is down: I have not heard the Clock. [R2] [2316] BANQUO And she goes down at Twelve. FLEANCE I take't tis later, Sir. BANQUO Hold, take my Sword; there's Husbandry in Heav'n, Their Candles are all out. - Take thee that too. A heavy Summons lyes like Lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep: Merciful Powers Restrain in me the cursed Thoughts, that Nature Gives way to in repose. [Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a Torch.] Give me my Sword: Who's there? MACBETH A Friend. BANQUO What, Sir, not yet at rest! The King's a-bed, He hath been in unusual Pleasure, And sent forth a great Largess to your Officers, This Diamond he greets your Wife withal, By the Name of most kind Hostess, �And shut it up in measureless Content. MACBETH Being unprepar'd, Our Will became the Servant to defect Which else should free have wrought. BANQUO All's well. I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters; To you they have shew'd some Truth. MACBETH I think not of them; Yet when we can intreat an Hour to serve We would spend some Words upon that Business, If you would grant the time. BANQUO At your kind Leisure. MACBETH If you shall cleave to my Consent, when 'tis, It shall make Honour for you. BANQUO So I lose none, In seeking to augment it, but still keep My Bosom Franchis'd, and Allegiance clear, I shall be counsell'd. MACBETH Good Repose the while. BANQUO Thanks, Sir; the like to you. [Exit Banquo] MACBETH Go, bid thy Mistress, when my Drink is ready, She strike upon the Bell. Get thee to bed. [Exit Servant] Is this a Dagger which I see before me, The Handle toward my Hand? Come let me clutch thee — [2317] I have thee not, and yet I see thee still, Art thou not, fatal Vision, sensible �To feeling, as to fight? Or art thou but A Dagger of the Mind, a false Creation, Proceeding from the Heat-oppressed Brain? I see thee yet, in form, as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going, And such an Instrument I was to use. Mine Eyes are made, the Fools o'th' other Senses, Or else worth all the rest - I see thee still, And on thy Blade, and Dudgeon, Gouts of Blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing It is the bloody Business, which informs This to mine Eyes. Now o'er the one half world Nature seems dead, and wicked Dreams abuse The Curtain'd sleep now Witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's Offerings, and wither'd Murther, Alarum'd by his Sentinel, the Wolf, Whose howl's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing sides, towards his Design Moves like a Ghost. Thou sour and firm-set Earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very Stones prate of my where about, And take the present Horror from the time, Which now suits with it. Whilst I threat, he lives; Words to the heat of Deeds too cold breath gives. [A Bell rings.] I go, and it is done; the Bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a Knell, That summons thee to Heav'n, or to Hell. [Exit.] [Enter Lady.] LADY MACBETH That which hath made them drunk, hath made me What hath quencht them, hath given me Fire. Hark! Peace! It was the Owl that shriek'd, the fatal Bell-Man, Which gives the stern'st good Night --- he is about it. The Doors are open; and the surfeited Grooms Do mock their Charge with Snores, I have drugg'd their Possets, [R3] [2318] That Death and Nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die. [Enter Macbeth.] �MACBETH Who's there? What ho? LADY MACBETH Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd, And 'tis not done; the Attempt, and not the Deed Confounds us— Hark! — I laid their Daggers ready, He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled My Father as he slept, I had don't — My Husband! MACBETH I have done the deed - Didst not thou hear a Noise? LADY MACBETH I heard the Owl scream, and the Crickets cry. Did not you speak? MACBETH When? LADY MACBETH Now. MACBETH As I descended? LADY MACBETH Ay. MACBETH Hark! — who lyes i'th' second Chamber? LADY MACBETH Donalbaine. MACBETH This is a sorry sight. LADY MACBETH A foolish Thought; to say a sorry sight. MACBETH There's one did laugh in's sleep; and one cry'd Murther, That they did wake each other; I stood and heard them; But they did say their Prayers, and addrest them Again to sleep. �LADY MACBETH There are two lodg'd together. MACBETH One cry'd, God bless us, and Amen the other, As they had seen me with these Hangman's Hands, Listning their Fear; I could not say Amen, When they did say, God bless us. LADY MACBETH Consider it not so deeply. MACBETH But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen? I had most need of Blessing, and Amen stuck in my Throat. LADY MACBETH These Deeds must not be thought, after these ways; So, it will make us mad. MACBETH Methought I heard a Voice cry. Sleep no more; Macbeth does murther sleep, the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd Sleeve of Care, The Death of each day's Life, fore Labours Bath, [2319] Balm of hurt Minds, great Nature's second Cousse, Chief Nourisher in Life's Feast. LADY MACBETH What do you mean? MACBETH Still it cry'd, Sleep no more, to all the House; Glamis hath murther'd Sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more. LADY MACBETH Who was it that thus cry'd? Why, worthy Thane, You do unbend your noble Strength, to think So brain-sickly of things; go, get some Water, And wash this filthy Witness from your Hand. Why did you bring these Daggers from the place? They must lye there. Go, carry them, and smear The sleepy Grooms with Blood. MACBETH �I'll go no more; I am afraid, to think what I have done; Look on 't again, I dare not. LADY MACBETH Infirm of purpose! Give me the Daggers; the sleeping Are but as Pictures; 'tis the Eye That fears a painted Devil. If he I'll gild the Faces of the Grooms For it must seem their Guilt. [Exit.] [Knock within.] and the dead, of Child-hood, do bleed, withal, MACBETH Whence is that Knocking? [Starting.] How is't with me, when every Noise appalls me? What Hands are here? Hah! they pluck out mine Eyes, Will all great Neptune's Ocean wash this Blood Clean from my Hand? No, this my Hand will rather The multitudinous Sea incarnadine, Making the green one red. [Enter Lady Macbeth.] LADY MACBETH My Hands are of your Colour; but I shame To wear a Heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a Knocking at the South Entry; Retire we to our Chamber; A little Water clears us of this deed, How easie is it then? Your Constancy Hath left you unattended. Hark, more Knocking. [Knock.] Get on your Night-Gown, lest occasion call us, [R4] [2320] And shew us to be Watchers; be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. MACBETH To know my deed, [Knock.] 'Twere best not know my self. �Wake Duncan with this Knocking: I would thou could'st. [Exeunt.] [Enter a Porter.] [Knocking within.] PORTER Here's a Knocking indeed: If a Man were Porter of Hell-Gate, he should have old turning the Key. Knock. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there, i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd himself on th' expectation of Plenty: Come in time, have Napkins enough about you, here you'll sweat for't. Knock. Knock, knock. Who's there in th' other Devils Name? Faith, here's an Equivocator, that could swear in both the Scales, against either Scale, who committed Treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to Heav'n; Oh come in, Equivocator. Knock. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? Faith, here's an English Taylor come hither for stealing out of a French Hose: Come in Taylor, here you may roast your Goose. Knock. Knock, knock, never at quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for Hell. I'll Devil-porter it no further: I had thought to have let in some of all Professions, that go the Primrose way to th' everlasting Bonfire. Knock. Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter. [Enter Macduff, and Lenox.] MACDUFF Was it to late, Friend, e'er you went to bed, That you do lye so late? PORTER Faith, Sir, we were carousing 'till the second Cock: And Drink, Sir, is a great Provoker of three things. MACDUFF What three things does Drink especially provoke? PORTER Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleep, and Urine. Letchery, Sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the Desire, but it takes away the Performance. Therefore much Drink may be said to be an Equivocator with Letchery; it makes him and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him and disheartens him; makes him [2321] �stand to, and not stand to; in Conclusion, equivocates him into a sleep, and giving him the Lie, leaves him. MACDUFF I believe Drink gave thee the Lie last Night. PORTER That it did, Sir, i' the very Throat on me; but I requited him for his Lie, and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my Legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him. [Enter Macbeth.] MACDUFF Is thy Master stirring? Our Knocking has awak'd him; here he comes. LENOX Good Morrow, Noble Sir. MACBETH Good Morrow both. MACDUFF Is the King stirring, worthy Thane? MACBETH Not yet. MACDUFF He did command me to call timely on him, I have almost slept the Hour. MACBETH I'll bring you to him. MACDUFF I know this is a joyful trouble to you: But yet 'tis one. MACBETH The labour we delight in, Physick's pain; This is the Door. MACDUFF I'll make so bold to call, for 'tis my limited Service. [Exit Macduff.] �LENOX Goes the King hence to day? MACDUFF He does; he did appoint so. LENOX The Night has been unruly; where we lay Our Chimneys were blown down. And, as they say, Lamenting heard i'th' Air; strange screams of Death And Prophesying, with Accents terrible, Of dire Combustions, and confus'd Events, New hatch'd to th' woful time. The obscure Bird clamor'd the live-long Night, Some say the Earth was Feaverous, and did shake. MACBETH 'Twas a rough Night. LENOX My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. [Enter Macduff.] MACDUFF O horror! horror! horror! Tongue nor Heart cannot conceive, nor name thee --[2322] MACBETH and LENOX What's the Matter? MACDUFF Confusion now hath made his Master-piece, Most sacrilegious Murther hath broke ope The Lord's anointed Temple, and stole thence The Life o'th' Building. MACBETH What is't you say? the Life? — LENOX Mean you his Majesty? — MACDUFF Approach the Chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak; �See, and then speak your selves: Awake! awake! [Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.] MACDUFF Ring the Alarum-Bell— Murther! and Treason! Banquo and Donalbaine! Malcolme! awake! Shake off this downy Sleep, Death's Counterfeit, And look on Death it self —-— up, up, and see The great Doom's Image! Malcome! Banquo! As from your Graves rise up and walk like Sprights, To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell ——— [Bell Rings.] [Enter Lady Macbeth.] LADY MACBETH What's the Business? That such an hideous Trumpet calls to Parley, The Sleepers of the House? Speak, speak. MACDUFF O gentle Lady, 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: The Repetition in a Woman's Ear, Would murther as it fell. [Enter Banquo.] O Banquo, Banquo, our Royal Master's murther'd. LADY MACBETH Woe, alas! What, in our House? ——— BANQUO Too cruel, any where. Dear Duff, I prithee contradict thy self, And say, it is not so. [Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.] MACBETH Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time: For from this instant, There's nothing serious in Mortality; All is but Toys; Renown and Grace is dead; The Wine of Life is drawn, and the mere Lees Is left this Vault to brag of. [2323] [Enter Malcolme, and Donalbaine.] �DONALBAINE What is amiss? MACBETH You are, and do not know't: The Spring, the Head, the Fountain of your Blood, Is stopt; the very Source of it is stopt. MACDUFF Your Royal Father's murder'd. MALCOLME Oh, by whom? LENOX Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with Blood So were their Daggers, which unwip'd, we fouod Upon their Pillows; they star'd, and were distracted: No Man's Life was to be trusted with them. MACBETH O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them --MACDUFF Wherefore did yon so? MACBETH Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate and furious, Loyal, and Neutrals in a monent? No Man. Th' expedition of my violent Love Out-run the pauser, Reason. Here lay Duncan, His silver Skin, lac'd with his Golden Blood, And his gash'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature, For Ruins wasteful entrance; there the Murtherers, Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers, Unmannerly breech'd with gore. Who could refrain, That had a Heart to love, and in that Heart, Courage, to make's Love known? LADY MACBETH Help me hence, ho! --[Seeming to faint.] MACDUFF Look to the Lady. �MALCOLM Why do we hold our Tongues, That most may claim this Argument for ours? DONALBAINE What should be spoken here, Where our Fate hid within an auger-hole, May rush, and seize us? Let's away, Our Tears are not yet brew'd. MALCOLM Nor our strong Sorrow Upon the foot of Motion. BANQUO Look to the Lady; [Lady Macbeth is carried out.] And when we have our naked Frailties hid, That suffer in exposure: let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of Work, To know it further. Fears and Scruples shake us: [2324] In the great hand of God I stand, and thence, Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight Of treasonous Malice. MACBETH And so do I. ALL So all. MACBETH Let's briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i'th' Hall together. ALL Well contented. [Exeunt.] MALCOLM What will you do? Let's not confort with them: To shew an unfelt Sorrow, is an Office Which the false Man does easy. I'll to England. DONALBAINE To Ireland, I; our separated Fortune, �Shall keep us both the safer; where we are, There's Daggers in Mens Smiles; the near in Blood, The nearer bloody. MALCOLM This murtherous shaft that's shot, Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way, Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to Horse, And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But shift away; there's warrant in that Theft, Which steals it self, when there's no Mercy left. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. [Enter Rosse, with an Old Man.] OLD MAN Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the Volume of which time, I have seen Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore Night Hath trifl'd former knowings. ROSSE Ah, good Father, Thou seest the Heav'ns, as troubled with Man's Act, Threaten his bloody Stage: By th' Clock 'tis Day, And yet dark Night strangles the travelling Lamp: Is't Night's predominance, or the Day's shame, That darkness does the face of Earth intomb, When living Light should kiss it? OLD MAN 'Tis unnatural, Even like the Deed that's done. On Tuesday last, A Faulcon towring in her pride of Place, Was by a mousing Owl hawkt at, and kil'd. [2325] ROSSE And Duncan's Horses, A thing most strange and certain! Beauteous and swift, the Minions of their Race, Turn'd wild in Nature, broke their Stalls, flung out, Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would Make War with Mankind OLD MAN 'Tis said, they eat each other. �ROSSE They did so; To th' amazement of mine Eyes, that look'd upon't. [Enter Macduff.] Here comes the good Macduff. How goes the World, Sir, now? MACDUFF Why see you not? ROSSE Is't known who did this more than bloody Deed? MACDUFF Those that Macbeth hath slain. ROSSE Alas the Day! What good could they pretend? MACDUFF They were suborn'd; Malcolm, and Donalbain the King's two Sons, Are stoln away and fled, which puts upon them Suspicion of the Deed. ROSSE 'Gainst Nature still; Thriftless Ambition! that will raven upon Thine own lives means; then 'tis most like The Sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. MACDUFF He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone To be invested. ROSSE Where is Duncan's Body? MACDUFF Carried to Colmeshill, The Sacred Stone-house of his Predecessors. And Guardian of their Bones. ROSSE Will you to Scone? MACDUFF �No, Cousin, I'll to Fife. ROSSE Well, I will thither. MACDUFF Well may you see, things well done there; adieu. Left our old Robes sit easier than our new. ROSSE Farewel, Father. OLD MAN. God's benison go with you, Sir, and with those That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes. [Exeunt.] [2326] ACT III. SCENE I. [SCENE A Royal Apartment.] [Enter Banquo.] BANQUO Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the way ward Women promis'd, and I fear Thou plaid'st most foully for't: Yet it was said It should not stand in thy Posterity, But that my self should be the Root, and Father Of many Kings. If there come truth from them, As upon thee, Macbeth, their Speeches shine, Why by the Verities on thee made good, May they not be my Oracles as well, And set me up in hope? But hush, no more. [Trumpets sound. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth, Lenox, Rosse, Lords and Attendants.] MACBETH Here's our chief Guest. LADY MACBETH If he had been forgotten, It had been as a gap in our great Feast, And all things unbecoming. MACBETH To Night we hold a solemn Supper, Sir, And I'll request your presence. �BANQUO Lay your Highness Command upon me, to the which, my Duties Are with a most indissoluble tye For ever knit. MACBETH Ride you this Afternoon? BANQUO Ay, my good Lord. MACBETH We should have else desir'd your good Advice, Which still hath been both grave and prosperous, In this Day's Council; but we'll take to Morrow. Is't far you ride? BANQUO As far, my Lord, as will fill up the time 'Twixt this and Supper. Go not my Horse the better, I must become a borrower of the Night, For a dark hour or twain. MACBETH Fail not our Feast. BANQUO My Lord, I will not. MACBETH We hear, our bloody Cousins are bestow'd In England, and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruel Parricide, filling their hearers With strange Invention, but of that to Morrow, When therewithal we shall have cause of State, Craving us jointly. Hie you to Horse: Adieu, 'till you return at Night. Goes Fleance with you? BANQUO Ay, my Lord; our time does call upon's. MACBETH I wish your Horses swift and sure of Foot: And so I do commend you to their Backs. Farewel. [Exit Banquo.] Let every Man be Master of his Time, �'Till seven at Night, to make Society The sweeter welcome: We will keep our self 'Till Supper time alone: While then, God be with you. [Exeunt Lady Macbeth, and Lords.] Sirrah, a word with you: Attend those Men [To a Servant.] Our pleasure? SERVANT They are, my Lord, without the Palace Gate. MACBETH Bring them before us, [Exit Servant.] To be thus, is nothing, But to be safely thus: Our fears in Banquo Stick deep, and in his Royalty of Nature Reigns that which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares, And to that dauntless temper of his Mind, He hath a Wisdom that doth guide his Valour, To act in safety. There is none but he, Whose Being I do fear: And under him, My Genius is rebuk'd; as it is said Mark Anthony's was by Caesar; he chid the Sisters, When first they put the Name of King upon me, And bad them speak to him; then Prophet like, They hail'd him Father to a line of Kings. Upon my Head, they plac'd a fruitless Crown, And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe, Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal Hand, No Son of mine succeeding: If't be so, For Banquo's Issue have I fil'd my Mind, For them, the gracious Duncan have I murther'd, Put Rancors in the Vessel of my Peace Only for them, and mine Eternal Jewel Given to the common Enemy of Man, [2328] To make them Kings, the Seeds of Banquo Kings: Rather than so, come Fate into the List, And Champion me to th' utterance --Who's there? [Enter Servant, and two Murtherers.] Now go to the Door, and stay there 'till we call. [Exit Servant.] Was it not yesterday we spoke together? MURTHERER �It was, so please your Highness. MACBETH Well then, Now you have consider'd of my Speeches? know That it was he, in the times past, which held you So under Fortune, which you thought had been Our innocent self, this I made good to you, In our last Conference, past in probation with you: How you were born in Hand, how crost, the Instruments, Who wrought with them: And all things else that might To half a Soul, and to a Notion craz'd, Say, thus did Banquo. 1 MURTHERER You made it known to us. MACBETH I did so; and went further, which is now Out point of second meeting. Do you find Your patience so predominant in your Nature, That you can let this go? Are you so Gospell'd To pray for this good Man, and for his Issue. Whose heavy Hand hath bow'd you to the Grave, And beggar'd yours for ever? 1 MURTHERER We are Men, my Liege. MACBETH Ay, in the Catalogue ye go for Men, As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curs, Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolves are clipt All by the Name of Dogs; the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The House-Keeper, the Hunter, every one According to the Gift, which bounteous Nature Hath in him clos'd? whereby he does receive Particular addition, from the Bill. [2329] That writes them all alike: and so of Men. Now, if you have a station in the file, And not in the worst rank of Manhood, say it; And I will put the business in your Bosoms, Whose Execution takes your Enemy off; Grapples you to the Heart, and love of us, Who wear our Health but sickly in his Life, �Which in his Death were perfect. 2 MURTHERER I am one, my Liege, Whom the vile Blows and Buffets of the World Have so incens'd that I am reckless what I do, to spite the World. 1 MURTHERER And I another, So weary with Disasters, tugg'd with Fortune, That I would set my Life on any Chance, To mend it, or be rid on't. MACBETH Both of you Know Banquo was your Enemy. MURTHERERS True, my Lord. MACBETH So is he mine: and in such bloody distance, That every Minute of his being, thrusts Against my near'st of Life; and though I could With bare-fac'd Power sweep him from my sight And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not, For certain Friends that are both his, and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall, Who I my self struck down: and thence it is, That I to your assistance do make love, Masking the business from the common Eye, For sundry weighty Reasons. 2 MURTHERER We shall, my Lord, Perform what you command us. 1 MURTHERER Though our Lives —— MACBETH Your Spirits shine through you. Within this Hour, at most, I will advice you where to plant your selves. Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o'th' time, The moment on't, for't must be done to Night, And something from the Palace: always thought, That I require a clearness; and with him, �To leave no Rubs nor Botches in the Work; [Vol. V.] [S] [2330] Fleance, his Son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me, Than is his Father's, must embrace the fate Of that dark Hour. Resolve your selves a-part, I'll come to you anon. MURTHERERS We are resolv'd, my Lord. MACBETH I'll call upon you straight; abide within, It is concluded; Banquo, thy Soul's flight. If it find Heav'n, must find it out to Night. [Exeunt.] [Enter Lady Macbeth, and a Servant.] LADY MACBETH Is Banquo gone from Court? SERVANT Ay, Madam, but returns again to Night. LADY MACBETH Say to the King, I would attend his leisure, For a few words. SERVANT Madam, I will. [Exit.] LADY MACBETH Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content: 'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy. Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. [Enter Macbeth.] How now, my Lord, why do you keep alone? Of sorriest Fancies your Compainions making, Using those Thoughts, which should indeed have dy'd With them they think on; things without all remedy Should be without regard; what's done, is done. MACBETH �We have scorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it: She'll close, and be her self, whilst our poor Malice Remains in danger of her former Tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, Both the Worlds suffer, E'er we will eat our Meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible Dreams, That shake us Nightly: Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the Mind to lie In restless ecstasie. Duncan is in his Grave; After Life's fitful Fever, he sleeps well, Treason has done his worst; nor Steel nor Poison, Malice Domestick, Foreign Levy, nothing Can touch him further. LADY MACBETH Come on; [2331] Gentle, my Lord, sleep o'er your rugged Looks, Be bright and jovial 'mong your Guests to Night. MACBETH So shall I, Love, and so I pray be you; Let your remembrance still apply to Banquo, Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue: Unsafe the while, that we must lave our Honours In these so flattering streams, And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts, Disguising what they are. LADY MACBETH You must leave this. MACBETH O, full of Scorpions is my Mind, dear Wife! Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleance lives. LADY MACBETH But in them, Nature's Copy's not eterne. MACBETH There's comfort yet, they are assailable, Then be thou jocund: e'er the Bat hath flown His Cloyster'd flight, e'er to black Hecat's Summons The shard-born Beetle, with his drowsie hums, Hath rung Night's yawning Peal, there shall be done �A deed of dreadful note. LADY MACBETH What's to be done? MACBETH Be inocent of the Knowledge, dearest Chuck, 'Till thou applaud the deed: Come, sealing Night, Skarf up the tender Eye of pitiful Day, And with thy bloody and invisible Hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great Bond, Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the Crow Makes Wing to th'Rooky Wood: Good things of Day begin to droop and drowze, Whiles Night's black Agents to their Preys do rowze. Thou marvell'st at my words; but hold thee still; Things bad begun, make strong themselves by ill: So prithee go with me. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. [SCENE A Park, the Castle at a Distance.] [Enter three Murtherers.] 1 MURTHERER But who did bid thee join with us? 3 MURTHERER Macbeth. [S2] [2332] 2 MURTHERER He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our Offices, and what we have to do, To the direction just. 1 MURTHERER Then stand with us. The West yet glimmers with some streaks of Day. Now spurs the latest Traveller apace, To gain the timely Inn, and near approaches The subject of our Watch. 3 MURTHERER Hark, I hear Horses. [Banquo within.] �Give us a Light there, ho. 2 MURTHERER Then 'tis he: The rest, that are within the note of expectation, Already are i'th' Court. 1 MURTHERER His Horses go about. 3 MURTHERER Almost a Mile: but he does usually, So all Men do, from hence to th' Palace Gate, Make it their walk. [Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a Torch.] 2 MURTHERER A Light, a Light. 3 MURTHERER 'Tis he. 1 MURTHERER Stand to't. BANQUO It will be rain to Night. [They fall upon Banquo and kill him; in the scuffle Fleance escapes.] 1 MURTHERER Let it come down. BANQUO O, Treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly, Thou may'st revenge. O Slave! [Dies.] 3 MURTHERER Who did strike out the Light? 1 MURTHERER Was't not the way? 3 MURTHERER There's but one down; the Son is fled. 2 MURTHERER �We have lost Best half of our Affair. 1 MURTHERER Well, let's away, and say how much is done. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. [A Room of State.] [A Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.] MACBETH You know your own Degrees, sit down: At first and last, the hearty welcome. LORDS Thanks to your Majesty. MACBETH Our self will mingle with Society, [2333] And play the humble Host: Our Hostess keeps her State, but in the best time We will require her welcome. [They sit.] LADY MACBETH Pronounce it for me, Sir, to all our Friends. For my Heart speaks, they are welcome. [Enter first Murtherer.] MACBETH See they encounter thee with their Hearts thanks, Both sides are even: here I'll sit i'th' mid'st, Be large in Mirth, anon we'll drink a Measure The Table round. There's Blood upon thy Face. [To the Murtherer.] MURTHERER 'Tis Banquo's then. MACBETH 'Tis better thee without, than he within. Is he dispatch'd? MURTHERER �My Lord, his Throat is cut; that I did for him. MACBETH Thou art the best o'th' Cut-throats; yet he's good, That did the like for Fleance; if thou did'st it, Thou art the Non-pareil. MURTHERER Most Royal Sir, Fleance is 'scap'd. MACBETH Then comes my Fit again: I had else been perfect; Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rock; As broad, and general, as the casing Air: But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in To fawcy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe? —— MURTHERER Ay, my good Lord: safe in a Ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his Head; The least a Death to Nature. MACBETH Thanks for that; There the grown Serpent lyes; the Worm that's fled Hath Nature, that in time will Venom breed, No Teeth for th' present. Get thee gone, to morrow We'll hear our selves again. [Exit Murtherers.] LADY MACBETH My Royal Lord, You do not give the Cheer; the Feast is sold, That is not often vouched, while 'tis making: 'Tis given with welcome; to feed, were best at home; From thence, the Sawce to Meat is Ceremony; Meeting were bare without it. [The Ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in Macbeth's place.] MACBETH, Sweet Remembrancer! Now good Digestion wait on Appetite, [2334] And health on both. �LENOX May't please your Highness sit? MACBETH Here had we now our Country's Honour roof'd, Were the grac'd Person of our Banquo present; Who may I rather challenge for Unkindness, Than pity for Mischance. ROSSE His absence, Sir, Lays blame upon his promise. Pleas't your Highness To grace us with your Royal Company? MACBETH The Table's full. [Starting.] LENOX Here is a place reserv'd, Sir. MACBETH Where? LENOX Here, my good Lord. What is't that moves your Highness? MACBETH Which of you have done this? LORDS What, my good Lord? MACBETH Thou can'st not say, I did it: never shake Thy goary Locks at me. ROSSE Gentlemen, rise; his Highness is not well. LADY MACBETH Sit, worthy Friends, my Lord is often thus, And hath been from his Youth. Pray you keep seat, The fit is momentary, upon a Thought He will again be well. If much you note him, You shall offend him, and extend his Passion. Feed, and regard him not. Are you a Man? [To Macbeth.] �MACBETH Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appall the Devil. LADY MACBETH O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear; This is the Air-drawn-Dagger which you said, Led you to Duncan. Oh, these flaws and starts, Impostors to true fear, would well become A Woman's story at a Winter's Fire, Authoriz'd by her Grandam: shame it self! Why do you make such Faces? when all's done You look but on a stool. MACBETH Prithee, see there: Behold! look! so! how say you? [Pointing to the Ghost.] Why, what care I, if thou canst nod, speak too. If Charnel-Houses, and our Graves must send Those, that we bury, back; our Monuments [2335] Shall be the Maws of Kites. [The Ghost vanishes.] LADY MACBETH What? quite unmann'd in Folly? MACBETH If I stand here, I saw him. LADY MACBETH Fie, for shame! MACBETH Blood hath been shed e'er now, i'th' old time, E'er humane Statue purg'd the gentle Weal; Ay, and since too, Murthers have been performe'd Too terrible for the Ear: the times have been, That when the Brains were out, the Man would die, And there an end; But now they rise again With twenty mortal Murthers on their Crowns, And push us from our Stools; this is more strange Than such a Murther is. �LADY MACBETH My worthy Lord, Your Noble Friends do lack you. MACBETH I do forget. ———— Do not muse at me, my most worthy Friends, I have a strange Infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, Love and Health to all, Then I'll sit down: Give me some Wine, fill full —— [As he is drinking, the Ghost rises again just before him.] I drink to th' general joy of the whole Table, And to our dear Friend Banquo, whom we miss; Would he were here; to all, and him, we thirst, And all to all. LORDS Our duties, and the pledge. MACBETH Avant, and quit my sight, let the Earth hide thee: Thy Bones are marrowless, thy Blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those Eyes, Which thou dost glare with. LADY MACBETH Think of this, good Peers. But as a thing of Custom; 'tis no other, Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. MACBETH What Man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian Bear, The arm'd Rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan Tyger, Take any shape but that, and my firm Nerves Shall never tremble. O be alive again, And dare me to the Desert with thy Sword; If trembling I inhabit, then protest me The Baby of a Girl. Hence horrible Shadow, [S4] [2336] Unreal Mock'ry, hence! Why so —— Be gone. [The Ghost vanishes.] I am a Man again: pray you sit still. [The Lords rise.] �LADY MACBETH You have displac'd the Mirth, broke the good Meeting, With most admir'd disorder. MACBETH Can such things be, And overcome us like a Summer's Cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such fights; And keep the natural Ruby of your Cheeks, When mine is blanch'd with fear. ROSSE What sights, my Lord? LADY MACBETH I pray you speak not; he grows worse and worse; Question enrages him: at once Good-night. Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once. LENOX Good-night, and better Health Attend his Majesty. LADY MACBETH A kind Good-night to all. [Exeunt Lords.] MACBETH It will have Blood they say; Blood will have Blood. Stones have been known to move, and Trees to speak; Augures, that understood Relations, have By Maggot-Pyes, and by Choughs, and Rooks brought forth The secret'st Man of blood. What is the Night? LADY MACBETH Almost at odds with Morning, which is which. MACBETH How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his Person, At our great bidding? LADY MACBETH Did you send to him, Sir? MACBETH �I hear it by the way; but I will send. There's not a one of them, but in his House I keep a Servant Fee'd. I will to Morrow (And betimes I will) to the wizard Sisters. More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, By the worst means, the worst for mine own good; All Causes shall give way, I am in Blood Spent in so far, that should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er: Strange things I have in Head, that will to Hand; Which must be acted, e'er they may be scann'd. [2337] LADY MACBETH You lack the Season of all Natures, Sleep. MACBETH Come, we'll to Sleep; My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate Fear, that wants hard use: We are yet but young indeed. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. [The Heath.] [Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate.] 1. WITCH Why how now, Hecate, you look angerly? HECATE Have I not Reason, Beldams, as you are? Sawcy, and over-bold, how did you dare To trade and traffick with Macbeth, In Riddles, and Affairs of Death? And I the Mistress of your Charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never call'd to bear my part, Or shew the glory of our Art? And which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward Son, Spightful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now; get you gone, And at the Pit of Acheron Meet me i'th' Morning: thither he Will come, to know his Destiny; Your Vessels, and your Spells provide, Your Charms, and every thing beside; �I am for th' Air; this Night I'll spend Unto a dismal, and a fatal End; Great Business must be wrought e'er Noon; Upon the Corner of the Moon There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound; I'll catch it e'er it come to ground; And that distill'd by Magick slights, Shall raise such Artificial Sprights, As by the strength of their Illusion, Shall draw him on to his Confusion. He shall spurn Fate, scorn Death, and bear His hopes 'bove Wisdom, Grace and Fear; And you all know, Security Is Mortal's chiefest Enemy. [Music, and a Song.] [2338] Hark, I am call'd; my little Spirit fee, Sits in the foggy Cloud, and stays for me. [Sing within. Come away, come away.] 1 WITCH Come, let's make haste, she'll soon be Back again. [Exeunt.] SCENE V. [Enter Lenox, and another Lord.] LENOX My former Speeches have but hit your Thoughts, Which can interpret farther. Only I say Things have been strangely born. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth —— marry he was dead: And right valiant Banquo walk'd too late. Whom you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, For Fleance fled; Men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbaine To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact! How it did grieve Macbeth? Did he not straight In pious Rage, the two Delinquents tear, That were the Slaves of Drink, and Thralls of Sleep? Was that not nobly done? ay, and wisely too; For 'twould have anger'd any Heart alive To hear the Men deny't. So that I say, He has born all things well; and I do think, That had he Duncan's Sons under the Key, �(As, and't please Heav'n he shall not,) they should find What 'twere to kill a Father: So should Fleance. But Peace; for from broad words, and cause he fail'd His presence at the Tyrant's Feast, I hear, Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself? LORD The Sons of Duncan, From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth, Live in the English Court; and are receiv'd Of the most Pious Edward, with such grace, That the Malevolence of Fortune nothing Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff Is gone, to pray the Holy King, upon his aid To wake Northumherland, and warlike Seyward; That by the help of these, with him above To ratifie the Work, we may again Give to our Tables Meat, Sleep to our Nights, Free from our Feasts and Banquets bloody Knives, Do faithful Homage, and receive free Honours, All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate their King, that he Prepares for some attempt of War. LENOX Sent he to Macduff? LORD He did; and with an absolute, Sir, not I, The cloudy Messenger turns me his Back. And hums; as who should say, you'll rue the time, That clogs me with this Answer. LENOX And that well might, Advise him to a caution t'hold what distance His Wisdom can provide. Some Holy Angel Fly to the Court of England, and unfold His Message e'er he come; that a swift Blessing May soon return to this our suffering Country, Under a Hand accurs'd! LORD I'll send my Prayers with him. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE I. [A dark Cave; in the middle a great Cauldron burning.] �[Thunder. Enter the three Witches.] 1 WITCH Thrice the brinded Cat hath mew'd. 2 WITCH Thrice, and once the Hedges Pig whin'd. 3 WITCH Harpier crys, 'tis time, 'tis time. 1 WITCH Round about the Cauldron go, In the poison'd Entrails throw. [They march round the Cauldron, and throw in the several Ingredients as for the Preparation of their Charm.] Toad, that under the cold Stone, Days and Nights, has thirty one: Swelter'd Venom sleeping got; Boil thou first i'th' charmed Pot. [2340] ALL Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and Cauldron bubble. 2 WITCH Fillet of a Fenny Snake, In the Cauldron boil and bake; Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frog, Wool of Bat, and Tongue of Dog, Adders Fork, and Blind-worms Sting, Lizard Leg, and Howlet's Wing, For a Charm of powerful Trouble, Like a Hell-broth, boil and bubble. ALL Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire burn, and Cauldron bubble. 3 WITCH Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf, Witches Mummy, Maw, and Gulf Of the ravin'd salt Sea Shark; Root of Hemlock, digg'd i'th' dark; Liver of Blaspheming Jew: �Gall of Goat, and Slips of Yew, Sliver'd in the Moon's Eclipse; Nose of Turk, and Tartar's Lips; Finger of Birth-strangled Babe, Ditch deliver'd by a Drab; Make the Gruel thick, and slab. Add thereto a Tyger's Chawdron, For th' Ingredients of our Cauldron. ALL Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire burn, and Cauldron bubble. 2 WITCH Cool it with a Baboon's Blood, Then the Charm is firm and good. [Enter Hecate, and other three Witches.] HECATE Oh! well done! I commend your pains, And every one shall share i'th' gains. And now about the Cauldron sing, Like Elves and Fairies in a Ring, Inchanting all that you put in. [Musick and a Song.] Black Spirits and White, Blue Spirits and Gray, Mingle, mingle, mingle, You that mingle may. 2 WITCH By the pricking of my Thumbs, [2341] Something wicked this way comes: Open Locks, whoever knocks. [Enter Macbeth.] MACBETH How now, you secret, black, and midnight Hags? What is't you do? All A deed without a Name. �MACBETH I conjure you, by that which you prosess, How e'er you come to know it, answer me. Though you untie the Winds, and let them fight Against the Churches; though the yesty Waves Confound and swallow Navigation up; Though bladed Corn be lodg'd, and Trees blown down; Though Castles topple on their Warders Heads; Though Palaces, and Pyramids do slope Their Heads to their Foundations; though the Treasure Of Natures Germain, tumble altogether, Even 'till destruction sicken, answer me To what I ask you. 1 WITCH Speak. 2 WITCH Demand. 3 WITCH We'll answer. 1 WITCH Say, if th' hadst rather hear it from our Mouths, Or from our Masters. MACBETH Call 'em: let me see 'em. 1 WITCH Pour in Sowes Blood, that hath eaten Her nine Farrow; Greace that's sweaten From the Murtherers Gibbet, throw Into the Flame. ALL Come high or low: Thy self and Office deftly show. [Thunder.] [Aparition of an armed Head rises.] MACBETH Tell me, thou unknown Power———— 1 WITCH He knows thy thought, Hear his Speech, but say thou nought. �APPARITION Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff! Beware the Thane of Fife —— dismiss me —— Enough. [Descends.] MACBETH What-e'er thou art, for thy good Caution, Thanks. Thou hast harp'd my fear aright. But one word more —— 1 WITCH He will not be commanded; here's another More potent than the first. [Thunder.] [2342] [Apparition of a bloody Child rises.] APPARITION Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! MACBETH Had I three Ears, I'd hear thee. APPARITION Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn The power of Man; for none of Woman born Shall harm Macbeth. [Descends.] MACBETH Then live Macduff: What need I fear of thee? But yet I'll make assurance, double sure, And take a Bond of Fate; thou shalt not live, That I may tell pale-hearted Fear, it lyes; And sleep in spight of Thunder. [Thunder.] [Apparition of a Child crowned, with a Tree in his Hand, rises.] What is this, That rises like the Issue of a King, And wears upon his Baby-brow, the round And top of Soveraignty? ALL Listen, but speak not to't. APPARITION Be Lion metled, proud and take no care, �Who chases, who frets, or where Conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birman Wood to high Dunsinane Hill Shall come against him. [Descends.] MACBETH That will never be: Who can impress the Forest, bid the Tree Unfix his Earth-bound Root? Sweet Boadments! good! Rebellious dead, rise never 'till the Wood Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth Shall live the Lease of Nature, pay his breath To Time and mortal Custom. Yet my Heart Throbs to know one thing; tell me, if your Art Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's Issue ever Reign in this Kingdom? ALL Seek to know no more. [The Cauldron sinks into the Ground.] MACBETH I will be satisfied. Deny me this, And an eternal Curse fall on you: Let me know, Why sinks that Cauldron? and what noise is this. [Hoboys.] 1 WITCH Shew! 2 WITCH Shew! 3 WITCH Shew! [2343] ALL Shew his Eyes, and grieve his Heart. Come like Shadows, so depart. [Eight Kings appear and pass over in order, and Banquo last; with a Glass in his Hand.] MACBETH Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo; Down! Thy Crown do's fear mine Eye-Balls. And thy Hair, �Thou other Gold-bound brow, is like the first—— A third, is like the former —— filthy Hags! Why do you shew me this? —— A fourth? —— Start Eye! What, will the Line stretch out to th' crack of Doom? —— Another yet? —— A seventh! I'll see on more—— And yet the eighth appears, who bears a Glass, Which shews me many more; and some I see, That twofold Balls, and treble Scepters carry. Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true; For the Blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me, And points at them for his. What, is this so? 1 WITCH Ay, Sir, all this is so. But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come, Sisters, cheer we up his Sprights, And shew the best of our Delights; I'll charm the Air to give a sound, While you perform your Antique round: That this great King may kindly say, Our Duties did his welcome pay. [Musick.] [The Witches dance, and vanish.] MACBETH Where are they? Gone? —— Let this pernicious hour Stand ay accursed in the Kalender. Come in, without there. [Enter Lenox.] LENOX What's your Grace's Will? MACBETH Saw you the Wizard Sisters? LENOX No, my Lord. MACBETH Came they not by you? LENOX No indeed, my Lord. MACBETH Infected be the Air whereon they ride, And damn'd all those that trust them, I did hear �The galloping of Horse. Who was't came by? LENOX 'Tis two or three, my Lord, that bring you word, Macduff is fled to England. [2344] MACBETH Fled to England? LENOX Ay, my good Lord. MACBETH Time, thou anticipat'st my dread Exploits: The flighty purpose never is o'er-took Unless the deed go with it. From this moment, The very firstlings of my Heart shall be The firstling of my Hand. And even now To Crown my Thoughts with Acts, be it thought and done, The Castle of Macduff I will surprize, Seize upon Fife; give to th' edge o'th' Sword His Wife, his Babes, and all unfortunate Souls That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a Fool, This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool, But no more sights. Where are these Gentlemen? Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. [Macduff's Castle.] [Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Rosse.] LADY MACDUFF What had he done, to make him fly the Land? ROSSE You must have patience, Madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none; His flight was madness; when our Actions do not, Our Fears do make us Traitors. ROSSE You know not, Whether it was his Wisdom, or his Fear. �LADY MACDUFF Wisdom? to leave his Wife, to leave his Babes, His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not, He wants the natural Touch; for the poor Wren, The most diminutive of Birds, will fight, Her young Ones in her Nest, against the Owl. All is the Fear, and nothing is the Love; As little is the Wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason. ROSSE My dearest Coz, I pray you School your self; but for your Husband, He is Noble, Wise, Judicious, and best knows The fits o' th' Season. I dare not speak much further, But cruel are the times, when we are Traitors, [2345] And do not know our selves: When we hold Rumour From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, But float upon a wild and violent Sea Each way, and move. I take my leave of you; Shall not be long but I'll be here again: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before, my pretty Cousin, Blessing upon you. LADY MACDUFF Father'd he is, and yet he's Fatherless. ROSSE I am so much a Fool, should I stay longer, It would be my Disgrace, and your Discomfort. I take my leave at once. [Exit Rosse.] LADY MACDUFF Sirrah, your Father's dead, And what will you do now? How will you live? SON As Birds do, Mother. LADY MACDUFF What, with Worms and Flies? SON �With what I get, and so do they. LADY MACDUFF Poor Bird? Thoud'st never fear the Net, nor Line, The Pit-fall, nor the Gin. SON Why should I, Mother? Poor Birds they are not set for. My Father is not dead for all your saying. LADY MACDUFF Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a Father? SON Nay, how will you do for a Husband? LADY MACDUFF Why, I can buy me twenty at any Market. SON Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. LADY MACDUFF Thou speak'st with all thy wit, And yet i'faith with wit enough for thee. SON Was my Father a Traitor, Mother? LADY MACDUFF Ay, that he was. SON What is a Traitor? LADY MACDUFF Why, one that swears and lies. SON And be all Traitors that do so? LADY MACDUFF Every one that does so, is a Traitor, And must be hang'd. SON And must they all be hang'd that swear and lie? �LADY MACDUFF Every one. SON Who must hang them? LADY MACDUFF Why, honest Men. [Vol.V.][T] [2346] SON Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools; for there are Liars and Swearers enow, to beat the honest Men, and hang up them. LADY MACDUFF God help thee, poor Monkey: But how wilt thou do for a Father? SON If he were dead, you'd weep for him: If you would not, it were a good Sign, that I should quickly have a new Father. LADY MACDUFF Poor Pratler, how thou talk'st? [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Bless you, fair Dame, I am not to you known, Though in your State of Honour I am perfect; I doubt some danger does approach you nearly. If you will take a homely Man's advice, Be not found here; hence with your little Ones To fright you thus, methinks I am too savage; To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty, Which is too nigh your Person. Heav'n preserve you, I dare abide no longer. [Exit Messenger.] LADY MACDUFF Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now �I am in this earthly World; where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous Folly. Why then, alas! Do I put up that Womanly Defence, To say I had done no harm? —— What are these Faces? [Enter Murtherers.] MURTHERER Where is your husband? LADY MACDUFF I hope in no place so unsanctified, Were such as thou may'st find him. MURTHERER He's a Traitor. SON Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd Villain. MURTHERER What, you Egg? [Stabbing him.] Young fry of Treachery? SON He has kill'd me, Mother. Run away, I pray you. [Exit, crying Murther.] [2347] SCENE III. [The King of England's Palace.] [Enter Malcolm and Macduff.] MALCOLM Let us seek out some desolate Shade, and there Weep our sad Bosoms empty. MACDUFF Let us rather Hold fast the mortal Bestride our downfal New Widows howl, new Strike Heaven on the Sword; and like good Men, Birthdom: Each new Morn, Orphans cry; new Sorrows Face, that it resounds �As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out Like Syllables of Dolour. MALCOLM What I believe, I'll wail; What know, believe; and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will. What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance; This Tyrant, whose sole Name blisters our Tongues, Was once thought honest: You have lov'd him well, He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something You may discern of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak, poor, innocent Lamb, T'appease an angry God. MACDUFF I am not treacherous. MALCOLM But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous Nature may recoil In an imperial Charge. But I shall crave your Pardon: That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose; Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would bear the brows of Grace, Yet Grace must look still so. MACDUFF I have lost my hopes. MALCOLM Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you Wife and Children? Those precious Motives, those strong knots of Love, Without leave taking. I pray you, Let not my Jealousies, be your Dishonours, But mine own Safeties. You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think. [T2] [2348] MACDUFF Bleed, bleed, poor Country, Great Tyranny, lay thou thy Basis sure, For Goodness dares not check thee: wear thou thy wrongs The Title is afraid. Fare thee well, Lord; I would not be the Villain that thou think'st �For the whole space that's in the Tyrant's Grasp, And the rich East to boot. MALCOLM Be not offended; I speak not as in absolute fear of you: 1 think our Country sinks beneath the Yoak; It weeps, it bleeds, and each new Day a Gath Is added to her Wounds. I think withal, There would be hands up-lifted in my right: And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands. But for all this, When I shall tread upon the Tyrant's Head, Or wear it on my Sword, yet my poor Country Shall have more Vices than it had before; More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed. MACDUFF What should he be? MALCOLM It is my self I mean, in whom I know All the particulars of Vice so grafted, That when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as Snow; and the poor State Esteem him as a Lamb, being compar'd With my confineless harms. MACDUFF Not in the Legions Of horrid Hell can come a Devil more damn'd, In Evils, to top Macbeth. MALCOLM I grant him Bloody, Luxurious, Avaricious, False, Deceitful, Sudden, Malicious, smoaking of every Sin That has a Name. But there's no bottom, none In my Voluptuousness: Your Wives, your Daughters, Your Matrons, and your Maids, could not fill up The Cistern of my Lust; and my Desire All continent Impediments would o'er-bear, That did oppose my Will. Better Macbeth, Than such an one to reign. [2349] MACDUFF �Boundless Intemperance In Nature is a Tyranny; It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the bappy Throne, And fall of many Kings. But fear not yet To take upon you what is yours; You may Convey your Pleasures in a spacious Plenty, And yet seem cold. The time you may so Hoodwink, We have willing Dames enough; there cannot be That Vulture in you, to devour so many As will to Greatness dedicate themselves, Finding it so inclin'd. MALCOLM With this, there grows In my most ill-compos'd Affection, such A stanchless Avarice, that were I King, I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands; Define his Jewels, and this other's House, And my more-having would be as a Sawce To make me hunger more; that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the Good and Loyal, Destroying them for wealth. MACDUFF This Avarice Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious Root Than Summer-seeming Lust; and it hath been The Sword of our slain Kings: Yet do not fear, Scotland hath Foysons to fill up your Will Of your mere Own. All these are portable, With other Graces weigh'd. MALCOLM But I have none, the King-becoming Graces, As Justice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stablenes, Bounty, Perseverance, Mercy, Lowliness, Devotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude; I have no relish of them, but abound In the Division of each several Crime, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet Milk of Concord into Hell, Uproar the universal Peace, confound All unity on Earth. MACDUFF O Scotland! Scotland! MALCOLM If such a one be fit to govern, speak: �I am as I have spoken. [T3] [2350] MACDUFF Fit govern? No not to live. O Nation miserable! With an untitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred, When shalt thou see thy wholsome Days again? Since that the truest Issue of thy Throne By his own Interdiction stands accurst. And do's blaspheme his Breed? thy Royal Father Was a most fainted King; the Queen that bore thee, Oftner upon her Knees, than on her Feet, Dy'd every Day she liv'd. Fare thee well. These Evils thou repeat'st upon thy self, Have banish'd me from Scotland, O my Breast, Thy hope ends here. MALCOLM Macduff, this noble Passion, Child of Integrity, hath from my Soul Wip'd the black Scruples, reconcil'd my Thoughts To thy good truth, and honour. Devillish Macbeth By many of these trains, hath fought to win me Into his Power; and modest Wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste; but God above Deal between thee and me; for even now I put my self to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure The taints, and blames I laid upon my self, For strangers to my Nature. I am yet Unknown to Women, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my Faith, would not betray The Devil to his Fellow, and delight No less in Truth than Life. My first false speaking Was this upon my self; what I am truly Is thine, and my poor Country's to command: Whither indeed, before thy here approach, Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike Men. All ready at a point, was setting forth. Now we'll together, and the chance of goodness Be like our warranted Quarrel. Why are you silent? MACDUFF Such welcome, and unwelcome things, at once, 'Tis hard to reconcile. �[Enter a Doctor] MALCOLM Well, more anon. Comes the King forth, I pray you? [2351] DOCTOR Ay Sir; there are a Crew of wretched Souls That stay his Cure; their Malady convinces The great Assay of Art. But at his touch, Such sanctity hath Heav'n given his Hand, They presently amend. [Exit.] MALCOLM I thank you, Doctor. MACDUFF What's the Disease he means? MALCOLM 'Tis call'd the Evil, A most miraculous work in this good King, Which often since my here remain in England, I have seen him do. How he solicits Heav'n, Himself best knows; but strangely visited People, All swoln and Ulcerous, pitiful to the Eye, The mere despair of Surgery, he cures, Hanging a Golden Stamp about their Necks, Put on with holy Prayers, and 'tis spoken To the succeeding Royalty he leaves The healing Benediction; with this strange Virtue, He hath a Heavenly Gift of Prophecy, And sundry Blessings hang about his Throne, That speak him full of Grace. [Enter Rosse.] MACDUFF See, who comes here. MALCOLM My Country-man; but yet I know him not. MACDUFF My ever gentle Cousin, welcome hither. �MALCOLM I know him now. Good God-betimes remove The means, the means that makes us Strangers. ROSSE Sir. Amen, MACDUFF Stands Scotland where it did? ROSSE Alas poor Country, Almost afraid to know it self. It cannot Be call'd our Mother, but our Grave; where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile: Where Sighs and Groans, and Shrieks that rend the Air Are made, not mark'd; where violent Sorrow seems A modern ecstasie: the Dead-man's Knell, Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good Mens lives Expire before the Flowers in their Caps, Dying, or e'er they sicken. MACDUFF Oh Relation! too nice, and yet too true. MALCOLM What's the newest Grief? [T4] [2352] ROSSE That of an hours Age doth hiss the Speaker, Each minute seems a new one. MACDUFF How does my Wife? ROSSE Why, well. MACDUFF And all my Children? ROSSE Well too. MACDUFF �The Tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? ROSSE No, they were well at peace when I did leave 'em. MACDUFF Be not a niggard of your Speech: how goes it? ROSSE When I came hither to transport the Tidings Which I have heavily born, there ran a Rumour Of many worthy Fellows, that were out, Which was to my belief witnest the rather, For that I saw the Tyrant's Power a-foot; Now is the time of help; your Eye in Scotland Would create Soldiers, make our Women fight, To doff their dire distresses. MALCOLM Be't their comfort We are coming thither: Gracious England hath Lent us good Seyward, and ten thousand Men, An older, and a better Soldier, none That Christendom gives out. ROSSE Would I could answer This comfort with the like. But I have words That would be howl'd out in the desart air, Where hearing should not catch them. MACDUFF What? concern they The general Cause? or is it a Fee-grief Due to some single Breast? ROSSE No Mind that's honest But in it shares some woe, though the main part Pertains to you alone. MACDUFF If it be mine Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. ROSSE Let not your Ears despise my Tongue for ever. Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard. �MACDUFF Hum! I guess at it. ROSSE Your Castle is surpriz'd, your Wife and Babes Savagely slaughter'd; to relate the manner. Were, on the Quarry of these murther'd Deer, [2353] To add the Death of you. MALCOLM Merciful Heav'n! What Man, ne'er pull your Hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught Heart, and bids it break. MACDUFF My Children too! ROSSE Wife, Children, Servants, all that could be found. MACDUFF And I must be from thence! my Wife kill'd too! ROSSE I have said. MALCOLM Be comforted. Let's make us Med'cines of our great Revenge, To cure this deadly grief. MACDUFF He has no Children. All my pretty ones? Did you say All? O Hell Kite! All? What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Dam, At one fell swoop? MALCOLM Dispute it like a Man. MACDUFF I shall do so; but I must also feel it as a Man. I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me: Did Heav'n look on �And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee: Naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine Fell slaughter on their Souls: Heav'n rest them now. MALCOLM Be this the Whetstone of your Sword, let grief Convert to anger: blunt not the Heart, enrage it. MACDUFF O I could play the Woman with mine Eyes, And Braggart with my Tongue. But gentle Heav'ns, Cut short all intermission: Front to Front, Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my self. Within my Sword's length set him, if he 'scape, Heav'n forgive him too. MALCOLM This tune goes manly: Come, go we to the King, our Power is ready, Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the Powers above Put on their Instruments: Receive what cheer you may, The Night is long that never finds the Day. [Exeunt] [2354] ACT V. SCENE I. [An Anti-chamber in Macbeth's Castle.] [Enter a Doctor of Physick, and a Gentlewoman.] DOCTOR I have two Nights watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walk'd? GENTLEWOMAN Since his Majesty went into the Field, I have seen her rise from her Bed, throw her Night-Gown upon her, unlock her Closet, take forth Paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards Seal it, and again return to Bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. DOCTOR A great perturbation in Nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry Agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what (at any time) have you heard �her say? GENTLEWOMAN That Sir, which I will not report after her. DOCTOR You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should. GENTLEWOMAN Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness to confirm my Speech. [Enter Lady Macbeth with a Taper.] Lo you! here she comes: This is her very guise, and upon my Life fast asleep; observe her, stand close. DOCTOR How came she by that light? GENTLEWOMAN Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually, 'tis her command. DOCTOR You see her Eyes are open. GENTLEWOMAN Ay, but their sense is shut. DOCTOR What is it she do's now? Look how she rubs her hands. GENTLEWOMAN It is an accustom'd action with her, to seem thus washing her hands: I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. LADY MACBETH Yet here's a spot. DOCTOR Hark, she speaks, I will set down what comes from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly. [2355] LADY MACBETH Out damned spot; out I say - One; Two; why then 'tis time to do't — Hell is murky. Fie, my �Lord, Fie, a Soldier, and afraid? what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our Power to account — yet who would have thought the old Man to have had so much Blood in him? DOCTOR Do you mark that? LADY MACBETH The Thane of Fife had a Wife; where is she now? What, will these Hands ne'er be clean? — No more o' that, my Lord, no more o' that: you marr all with starting. DOCTOR Go to, go to; You have known what you should not. GENTLEWOMAN She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heav'n knows what she has known. LADY MACBETH Here's the smell of Blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little Hand. Oh! oh! oh! DOCTOR What a sigh is there? The Heart is sorely charg'd. GENTLEWOMAN I would not have such a Heart in my Bosome, for Dignity of the whole Body. DOCTOR Well, well, well GENTLEWOMAN Pray God it be, Sir. DOCTOR This Disease is beyond my Practice: yet I have known those which have walkt in their sleep, who have died holily in their Beds. LADY MACBETH Wash your Hands, put on your Night-Gown, look not so Pale - I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on's Grave. �DOCTOR Even so? LADY MACBETH To Bed, to Bed; there's knocking at the Gate: Come, come, come, come, give me your Hand: what's done, cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed. [Exit Lady Macbeth.] DOCTOR Will she go now to Bed? GENTLEWOMAN Directly. DOCTOR Foul whisperings are abroad; unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural Troubles. Infected Minds To their deaf Pillows will discharge their secrets, More needs she the Divine than the Physician: God, God forgive us all. Look after her, Remove from her the means of all annoyance, [2356] And still keep Eyes upon her; so good Night. My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my fight. I think, but dare not speak. GENTLEWOMAN Good Night, good Doctor. [Exeunt.] SCENE II. [A Field with a Wood at Distance.] [Enter Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers.] MENTETH The English Power is near, led on by Malcolm, His Uncle Seyward, and the good Macduff. Revenges burn in them: For their dear causes Excite the mortified Man. ANGUS Near Birnam Wood Shall we meet them, that way are they coming. CATHNESS �Who knows if Donalbaine be with his Brother? LENOX For certain. Sir, he is not: I have a File Of all the Gentry; there is Seyward's Son, And many unruff Youths, that even now Protest their first of Manhood. MENTETH What does the Tyrant? CATHNESS Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies; Some say he's mad: Others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant Fury, but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd Cause Within the belt of Rule. ANGUS Now do's he feel His secret Murthers sticking on his hands, Now minutely Revolts upbraid his faith-breach: Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love: Now does he feel his Title Hang loose about him, like a Giant's Robe Upon a Drawfish Thief. MENTETH Who then shall blame His pester'd Senses to recoyl, and start, When all that is within him do's condemn It self for being there. CATHNESS Well, march we on, To give Obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: Meet we the Med'cine of the sickly Weal; [2357] And with him pour we, in our Country's purge, Each drop of us. LENOX Or so much as it needs, To dew the Sovereign Flower, and drown the Weeds. Make we our March towards Birnam. [Exeunt.] �SCENE III. [The Castle.] [Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.] MACBETH Bring me no more Reports, let them fly all: 'Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with fear. What's the Boy, Malcolme? Was he not born of Woman? The Spirits that know All mortal Consequences, have pronounc'd me thus: Fear not, Macbeth, no Man that's born of Woman Shall e'er have power upon thee. Then fly false Thanes, And mingle with the English Epicures, The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear. [Enter a Servant.] The Divel damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd Lown: Where got'st thou that Goose-Look? SERVANT There are ten thousand MACBETH Geese, Villain? SERVANT Soldiers, Sir. MACBETH Go, prick thy Face, and over-red thy fear, Thou Lilly-liver'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch? Death of thy Soul, those Linnen Cheeks of thine Are Counsellours to fear. What Soldiers, Whay-face? SERVANT The English Force, to please you. MACBETH Take thy Face hence - Seyton! - I'm sick at heart, When I behold - Seyton, I say! — this push Will cheer me ever, or disease me now. I have liv'd long enough: My way of Life Is fall'n into the Sear, the yellow Leaf, And that which should accompany old Age, As Honour, Love, Obedience, Troops of Friends. I must not look to have: But in their stead, �Curses, not loud but deep, Mouth-honour breath, Which the poor Heart would fain deny, and dare not. [2358] [Enter Seyton.] SEYTON What's your Gracious pleasure? MACBETH What News more? SEYTON All is confirm'd, my Lord, which was reported. MACBETH I'll fight, 'till from my Bones my Flesh is hackt. Give me my Armour. SEYTON 'Tis not needed yet. MACBETH I'll put it on: Send out more Horses, skir the Country round, Hang those that stand in fear. Give me mine Armour. How do's your patient, Doctor? DOCTOR Not so sick, my Lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming Fancies, That keep her from her rest. MACBETH Cure her from that: Canst thou not minister to a Mind diseas'd, Pluck from the Memory a rooted Sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the Brain, And with some sweet oblivious Anntidote, Cleanse the stuft Bosome of that perillous stuff, Which weighs upon the Heart? DOCTOR Therein the Patient Must minister unto himself. MACBETH Throw Physick to the Dogs, I'll none of it. �Come, put my Armour on, give me my Staff. Seyton, send out — Doctor, the Thanes fly from me — Come, Sir, dispatch - If thou could'st. Doctor, cast The water of my Land, find her Disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine Health, I would applaud thee to the very Echo, That should applaud again. Pull't off, I say — What Rubard, Senna, or what Purgative Drug, Would scour these English hence: Hear'st thou of them? DOCTOR Ay, my good Lord; Your Royal preparation Makes us hear something. MACBETH Bring it after me; I will not be afraid of Death and Bane, 'Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane. DOCTOR Were I from Dunsinane away, and clear, Prosit again should hardly draw me here. [Exeunt.] [2359] SCENE IV. [A Wood.] [Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduff, Seyward's Son, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, and Soldiers marching.] MALCOLM Cousin, I hope the days are near at hand, That Chambers will be safe. MENTETH We doubt it nothing. SEYWARD What Wood is this before us? MENTETH The Wood of Birnam. MALCOLM Let every Soldier hew him down a Bough, And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our Host, and make discov'ry �Err in report of us. SOLDIER It shall be done. SEYWARD We learn no other, but the confident Tyrant, Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure Our setting down before't. MALCOLM 'Tis his main hope: For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the Revolt, And none serve with him, but constrained things, Whose Hearts are absent too. MACDUFF Set our best Censures Before the true event, and put we on Industrious Soldiership. SEYWARD The time approaches, That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have, and what we owe: Thoughts speculative, their unsure hopes relate, But certain issue, strokes must arbitrate, Towards which, advance the War. [Exeunt marching.] SCENE V. [The Castle.] [Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers with Drums and Colours.] MACBETH Hang out our Banners on the outward Walls, The Cry is still, they come: Our Castle's strength Will laugh a Siege to scorn. Here let them lye, Till Famine and the Ague eat them up: [2360] Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, Beard to Beard, And beat them backward home. What is that noise? [A cry within of Women.] �SEYTON It is the cry of Women, my good Lord. MACBETH I have almost forgot the taste of Fears: The Time has been, my Senses would have cool'd To hear a Night-shriek, and my Fell of Hair Would at a dismal Treatise rouze, and stir As Life were in't. I have supt full with horrors, Direness familiar to my slaughterous Thoughts Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry? SEYTON The Queen (my Lord) is dead. MACBETH She should have dy'd hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word, To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last Syllable of Recorded time: And all our yesterdays have lighted Fools The way to study death. Out, out, brief Candle, Life's but a walking Shadow, a poor Player, That struts and frets his hour upon the Stage. And then is heard no more. It is a Tale Told by an Idoet, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. [Enter a Messenger.] Thou com'st to use thy Tongue: Thy story quickly. MESSENGER My Gracious Lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do't. MACBETH Well, say. Sir. MESSENGER As I did stand my Watch upon the Hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon methought The Wood began to move. MACBETH Liar, and Slave. �[Striking him.] MESSENGER Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three mile you may see it coming. I say, a moving Grove. MACBETH If thou speak'st false, Upon the next Tree shalt thou hang alive 'Till Famine cling thee: If thy Speech be sooth, [2361] I care not if thou do'st for me as much. I pull in Resolution, and begin To doubt the Equivocation of the Fiend, That lies like truth. Fear not, 'till Birnam Wood Do come to Dunsinane and now a Wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out; If this which he avouches do's appear, There is no flying hence, nor tarrying here; I 'gin to be a weary of the Sun, And with th' estate o'th' World were now undone. Ring the alarum Bell, blow Wind, come wrack, At least we'll die with harness on our back. [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. [Before Macbeth's Castle.] [[Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduff, and their Army, with Boughs.] MALCOLM Now near enough: your Leavy Screens throw down, And shew like those you are: You (worthy Uncle) Shall with my Cousin, your right Noble Son, Lead our first Battel. Worthy Macduff, and we Shall take upon's what else remains to do According to our order. SEYWARD Fare you well: Do we but find the Tyrant's Power to Night, Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. MACDUFF Make all our Trumpets speak, give them all breath, �Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood and Death. [Exeunt.] [Alarums continued.] [Enter Macbeth.] MACBETH They have ty'd me to a stake, I cannot fly, But Bear-like I must fight the course. What's he That was not born of Woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. [Enter Young Seyward.] YOUNG SEYWARD What is thy Name? MACBETH Thoul't be afraid to hear it. YOUNG SEYWARD No: though thou call'st thy self a hotter Name Than any is in Hell. MACBETH My Name's Macbeth. [VOL. V.] [U] [2362] YOUNG SEYWARD The Devil himself could not pronounce a Title More hateful to mine Ear. MACBETH No, nor more fearful. YOUNG SEYWARD Thou liest, thou abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. [Fight, and Young Seyward's slain.] MACBETH Thou wast born of Woman; But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by Man that's of a Woman born. [Exit. Alarums.] �[Enter Macduff.] MACDUFF That way the noise is: Tyrant, shew thy Face, If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still: I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose arms Are hir'd to bear their Staves; either thou, Macbeth Or else my Sword with an unbatter'd edge I sheath again undeeded. There thou should'st be By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, Fortune, And more I beg not. [Exit. Alarums.] [Enter Malcolme and Seyward.] SEYWARD This was, my Lord, the Castle's gently rendered: The Tyrant's People on both sides do fight. The noble Thanes do bravely in the War, The day almost it self professes yours, And little is to do. MALCOLM We have met with Foes That strike beside us. SEYWARD Enter, Sir, the Castle. [Exeunt. Alarum.] [Enter Macbeth] MACBETH Why should 1 play the Roman Fool, and die On mine own Sword? whilst I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. [Enter Macduff.] MACDUFF Turn Hell-bound, turn. MACBETH Of all Men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back, my Soul is too much charg'd With Blood of thine already. MACDUFF �I have no words, My Voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villain Than terms can give thee out. [Fight. Alarum.] [2363] MACBETH Thou losest labour, As easie may'st thou the intrenchart Air With thy keen Sword impress, as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests, I bear a charmed Life, which must not yield To one of Woman born. MACDUFF Despair thy Charm, And let the Angel whom thou still hast serv'd Tell thee, Macduff was from his Mother's Womb Untimely rip'd. MACBETH Accursed be that tongue that tells me so: For it hath Cow'd my better part of Man: And be these Jugling Fiends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense, That keep the word of promise to our Ear, And break it to our Hope. I'll not fight with thee. MACDUFF Then yield thee, Coward, And live to be the show, and gaze o'th'time, We'll have thee, as our Rarer-Monsters are Painted upon a Pole, and under-writ, Here may you see she Tyrant. MACBETH I will not yield To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's Feet, And to be baited with the Rabbles Curse. Though Burnam Wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou oppos'd, being of no Woman born, Yet I will try the last. Before my Body, I throw my Warlike Shield: Lay on Macduff, And damn'd be him, that first cries hold, enough: [Exeunt fighting. Alarums.] [Enter fighting, and Macbeth is slain. [Retreat and Flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours, �Malcolme, Seyward, Rosse, Thanes, and Soldiers.] MALCOLM I would the Friends we miss, were safe arriv'd. SEYWARD Some must go off: and yet by these I see. So great a day as this is cheaply bought. MALCOLM Macduff is missing, and your noble Son. ROSSE Your Son, my Lord, has paid a Soldier's Debt, He only liv'd but 'till he was a Man, The which no sooner had his Prowess confirm'd, In the unshrinking station where he fought. [U2] [2364] But like a Man he dy'd. SEYWARD Then he is dead? ROSSE Ay, and brought off the Field: your cause of sorrow Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then It hath no end. SEYWARD Had he his hurts before? ROSSE Ay, on the Front. SEYWARD Why then, God's Soldier be he: Had I as many Sons as I have Hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death: And so his Knell is knoll'd. MALCOLM He's worth more sorrow, And that I'll spend for him. SEYWARD �He's worth no more, They say he parted well, and paid his score. And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort. [Enter Macduff with Macbeth's Head.] MACDUFF Hail, King! for so thou art. Behold, where stands Th' Usurper's Cursed Head; the time is free: I see thee compast with thy Kingdom's Peers, That speak my salutation in their Minds: Whose Voices I desire aloud with mine. Hail King of Scotland. ALL Hail, King of Scotland. [Flourish.] MALCOLM We shall not send a large expence of time, Before we reckon with your several loves, And make us even with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland, In such an Honour nam'd: What's more to do Which would be planted, newly with the time. As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad. That fled the Snares of watchful Tyranny, Producing forth the cruel Ministers Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queen; Who (as 'tis thought) by self and violent hands, Took off her Life; This, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the Grace of Grace. We will perform in Measure, Time and Place: So Thanks to all at once, and to each one, Whom we invite, to see us Crown'd at Scone. [Flourish. Exeunt.] � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Macbeth Subject The topic of the resource A Macbeth címá dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A Macbeth 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! - Így add tovább! 2.5 Magyarország Licenc Language A language of the resource magyar angol License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! - Így add tovább! 2.5 Magyarország Licenc Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. digitális gyűjtemény Zotero Author Almási Zsolt Date 2016. 02. 19. Language magyar Publisher Almási Zsolt Title Macbeth gyűjtemény URL https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/collections/show/2 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 Macbeth (Rowe, 1709) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Nicholas Rowe. Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat gondozott átirata. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksmrwilliams01curlgoog/page/n241 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1709 2019 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Nicholas Rowe (szerkesztő) Csontos Anna (digitális átirat gondozója) Hricsovinyi Réka (digitális átirat gondozója) Molnár Ágnes (digitális átirat gondozója) Huszár Eszter (digitális átirat gondozója) Gyuricska Patrik (digitális átirat gondozója) Almási Zsolt (digitális átirat szerkesztője) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv PDF Language A language of the resource Angol Type The nature or genre of the resource Tragédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Könyv Digitális szövegfájl Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. THE WORKS OF Mr. William Shakespear; IN SIX VOLUMES. ADORN'D with CUTS. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe, Efq; LONDON: Printed for Jacob Tonson, within Grays-Inn Gate, next Grays-Inn Lane. MDCCIX. VOLUME FIVE. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Nicholas Rowe Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Macbeth Date 1709 2019 First Page 2300 Genre Tragédia Language Angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 65 Number of Volumes 6 Pages 2300-2364 Place London Publisher Jacob Tonson Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. URL https://archive.org/details/worksmrwilliams01curlgoog/page/n241 Volume 5 Digitális betűhív átirat digitális szöveg Macbeth Shakespeare Tonson Tragédia https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/c0563aef3571b2b81fadbd896e5cc8e5.pdf 0537b16f7e12f10339a180820b96dc45 PDF Text Text Much Ado About Nothing Szerkesztette: Samuel Johnson 173. ACT I. SCENE I. A Court before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, HERO and Beatrice, with a Messenger. LEONATO I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. MESSENGER He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him. LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? MESSENGER But few of any Sort, and none of Name. LEONATO A victory is twice itself, when the atchiever 174 brings home full numbers; I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, call'd Claudio. MESSENGER Much deserved on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better better'd expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. MESSENGER I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy �could not shew itself modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. LEONATO Did he break out into tears? MESSENGER In great measure. LEONATO A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than those that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping! BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from the wars or no? MESSENGER I know none of that name, Lady; there was none such in the army of any Sort. LEONATO What is he that you ask for, Need! 175 HERO My Cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. MESSENGER O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. BEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at the flight; and my Uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? but how many hath he kill'd? for, indeed, I promis'd to eat all of his killing. LEONATO Faith, Neice, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. MESSENGER He hath done good service. Lady, in these wars. �BEATRICE You had musty victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent stomach. MESSENGER And a good soldier too, Lady. BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady? but what is he to a lord? MESSENGER A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stufft with all honourable virtues. BEATRICE It is so, indeed: he is no less than a stufft man: but for the stuffing, — well, we are all mortal. LEONATO You must not. Sir, mistake my Niece; there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there's a skirmish of Wit between them. BEATRICE Alas, he gets nothing by That. In our last 176 conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd with one: So that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? he hath every month a new sworn brother. MESSENGER Is it possible? BEATRICE Very easily possible; 9 he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block. MESSENGER �I see, Lady, the gentleman is not in your books. BEATRICE No; an he were, I would burn my Study. 177 But, I pray you, who is his companion? is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil? MESSENGER He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. BEATRICE O lord, he will hang upon him like a disease; he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught the Benedick; it will cost him a thousand pounds ere he be cur'd. MESSENGER I will hold friends with you, Lady. BEATRICE Do, good friend. LEONATO You'll ne'er run mad, Neice. BEATRICE No, not 'till a hot January. MESSENGER Don Pedro is approach'd. SCENE II Enter Don Pedro Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and Don John. PEDRO Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. LEONATO �Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, forrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. PEDRO You embrace your charge too willingly: I think this is your daughter. LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so. 178 BENEDICK Were you in doubt, Sir, that you askt her? LEONATO Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child — PEDRO You have it full, Benedick; we may guess by this what you are, being a man: truly the lady fathers herself; be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father. BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, the would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as the is. BEATRICE I wonder, that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick; no body marks you. BENEDICK What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? BEATRICE Is it possible, Disdain should die, while the hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesie itself must convert to Disdain, if you come in her presence. BENEDICK Then is courtesie a turncoat; but it is certain, I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and �I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. BEATRICE A dear happiness to women; they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me. BENEDICK God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face. BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were. BENEDICK Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. BEATRICE A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. BENEDICK I would, my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer; but keep your way o'God's name, I have done. 179 BEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick; I know you of old. PEDRO This is the sum of all: Leonato,—Signior Claudio, and Signior Benedick,—my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all; I tell him, we shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartily prays, some occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear, he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. LEONATO If you swear, my Lord, you shall not be forsworn.— Let me bid you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the prince your brother; I owe �you all duty. JOHN I thank you; I am not of many words, but I thank you. LEONATO Please it your Grace lead on? PEDRO Your hand, Leonato; we will go together. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio. SCENE III. CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? BENEDICK I noted her not, but I look'd on her. CLAUDIO Is the not a modest young lady? BENEDICK Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? CLAUDIO No, I pr'ythee, speak in sober judgment. BENEDICK Why, i'faith, methinks, she is too low for an high praise, too brown for a fair praise; and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were the other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. CLAUDIO Thou think'st, I am in sport; I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her. N 2 180 �BENEDICK Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel? BENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the Song? CLAUDIO In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that I ever look'd on. BENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter; there's her Cousin, if she were not possest with such a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: but I hope, you have no intent to turn husband, have you? CLAUDIO I would scarce trust myself, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. BENEDICK Is't come to this, in faith? hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion; shall I never see a batchelor of threescore again? go to, i'faith, if thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays: look, Don Pedro is return'd to seek you. 181 SCENE IV. Re-enter Don Pedro and Don John. PEDRO What secret hath held you here, that you follow'd not to Leonato's house? BENEDICK I would, your Grace would constrain me to tell. �PEDRO I charge thee oh thy allegiance. BENEDICK You hear, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on my alliegiance, — mark you this, — on my allegiance. — He is in love. With whom? — now that is your Grace's part.— Mark how short his answer is — with Hero Leonato's short daughter. CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered. BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so. CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. PEDRO Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy. CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord. PEDRO By my troth, I speak my thought. CLAUDIO And, in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine. BENEDICK And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord I speak mine. CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel. PEDRO That she is worthy, I know. BENEDICK That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me; I will die in it at the �stake. N3 182 PEDRO Thou wast ever an obstinate heretick in the despight of beauty. CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will. BENEDICK That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will have a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me; because I will not do them the Wrong to mistrust any, I will do my self the Right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the which I may go the finer,) I will live a batchelor. PEDRO I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. BENEDICK With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love: prove, that ever I lose more blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a balladmaker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the Sign of blind Cupid. PEDRO Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. BENEDICK If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and call'd Adam. 183 PEDRO Well, as time shall try; in time the savage �bull doth bear the yoke. BENEDICK The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's-horns, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vilely painted; and in such great letters as they write, Here is good Horse to hire, let them signifie under my Sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd man. CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou would'st be horn-mad. PEDRO Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too then. PEDRO Well, you will temporize with the hours; in the mean time, good Signior Benedick; repair to Leonato's, commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for, indeed, he hath made great preparation. BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage, and so I commit you —— CLAUDIO To the tuition of God; From my house, if I had it, —— PEDRO The sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedick. BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your 184 discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards arc but slightly basted on neither: ere * you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I leave you. [Exit. �SCENE V. CLAUDIO My Liege, your Highness now may do me good. PEDRO My love is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. CLAUDIO Hath Leonato any son, my lord? PEDRO No child but HERO she's his only heir; Dost thou affect her, Claudio? CLAUDIO O my lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye; That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love; But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts Have left their places vacant; in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate Desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is; Saying, 1 lik'd her ere I went to wars. PEDRO Thou wilt be like a lover presently. And tire the hearer with a book of words. If thou dost love fair HERO cherish it, And I will break with her, and with her Father; And Thou shalt have her. Was't not to this end. That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? CLAUDIO How sweetly do you minister to love, That know love's grief by his complection! But left my liking might too sudden seem, 185 I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. PEDRO What need the bridge much broader than the flood? Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, �LEONATO How now, Brother, where is my Cousin your son? hath he provided this musick? ANTONIO He is very busy about it; but, brother, I can tell you news that you yet dream'd not of. LEONATO Are they good? ANTONIO As the event stamps them, but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in my orchard, were thus over-heard by a man of mine: The Prince discover'd to Claudio, that he lov'd my neice your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it. LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this? ANTONIO A good sharp fellow; I will send for him, and question him yourself. 186 LEONATO No, no; we will hold it as a dreams 'till it appear itself. But I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for answer, if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of it. [Several cross the Stage here.] Cousin, you know what you have to do. — O, I cry you mercy, friend, go you with me and I will use your skill. Good cousin, have a care this busy time. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to an Apartment in Leonato's House, Enter Don John and Conrade. CONRADE What the good-jer, my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? �JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit. CONRADE You should hear reason. JOHN And when I have heard it, what Blessing bringeth it? CONRADE If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. JOHN I wonder, that, thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jets; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. 187 CONRADE Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, 'till you may do it without controlement; you have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself; it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing villain; I am trusted with a muzzel, and infranchised with a clog, therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. �CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent? JOHN I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? what news, Borachio? Enter Borachio. BORACHIO I came yonder from a great supper; the 188 Prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? what is he for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietness? BORACHIO Marry, it is your brother's right hand. JOHN Who, the most exquisite Claudio? BORACHIO Even he. JOHN A proper Squire! and who, and who? which way looks he? BORACHIO Marry, on Hero the daughter and heir of Leonato. JOHN A very forward March chick! How come you to know this? BORACHIO Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio hand in hand in sad conference. I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed upon, that �the Prince should woo Hero for himself; and having obtained her, give her to Count Clmdio, JOHN Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way; you are both sure, and will assist me. CONRADE To the death, my lord. JOHN Let us to the great supper; their Cheer is the greater, that I am subdu'd 'would the cook were of my mind! ———Shall we go prove what's to be done? BORACHIO We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. 189 ACT II. SCENE I. A Hall in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula. LEONATO Was not Count John here at Supper? ANTONIO I saw him not. BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after. HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition. BEATRICE He were an excellent man, that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedick; the one is too like an image, and says nothing: and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tatling. LEONATO �Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face —— BEATRICE With a good Leg, and a good foot, Uncle, and mony enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good will. LEONATO By my troth. Niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. ANTONIO In faith, she's too curst. BEATRICE Too curst is more than curst; I shall lessen God's sending that way; for it is said, God sends a curst Cow short horns; but to a Cow too curst he sends none. 190 LEONATO So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. BEATRICE Just, if he send me no Husband; for the which Blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening: Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lye in woollen. LEONATO You may light upon a husband, that hath no beard. BEATRICE What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? he that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take six pence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell. �ANTONIO Well, Niece, I trust, you will be rul'd by your father. [To Hero. BEATRICE Yes, faith, it is my Cousin's duty to make curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases you; but yet for all that, Cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases me. LEONATO Well, Niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. BEATRICE Not 'till God make men of some other metal than earth; would it not grieve a woman to be over-master'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make account of her life to a clod of way-ward marle? no, uncle. I'll none; Adam's sons are my brethren, and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEONATO Daughter, remember, what I told you; if 191 the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your answer. BEATRICE The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; If the Prince be too important, tell him, there is measure in every thing, and so dance out. the Answer; for hear me, Hero wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace; the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig; and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly-modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into his grave. LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by day-light. �LEONATO The revellers are entring, brother; make good room. SCENE II. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others, in Masquerade. PEDRO Lady, will you walk about with your friend? HERO So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk away. PEDRO With me in your company? HERO I may say so, when I please. PEDRO And when please you to say so? HERO When I like your favour; for God desend, the lute should be like the case! PEDRO My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. 192 HERO Why, then your visor should be thatch'd. PEDRO Speak low, if you speak love. BALTHASAR Well; I would, you did like me. MARGARET So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities. �BALTHASAR Which is one? MARGARET I say my Prayers aloud. BALTHASAR I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen. MARGARET God match me with a good dancer! BALTHASAR Amen. MARGARET And God keep him out of my fight when the dance is done! Answer, Clerk. BALTHASAR No more words, the clerk is answer'd. 193 URSULA I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA I know you by the wagling of your head. ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him. URSULA You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA Come, come, do you think, I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? go �to, mum, you are he; graces will appear, and there's an end. BEATRICE Will you not tell me, who told you so? BENEDICK No you shall pardon me. BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me, who you are? BENEDICK Not now. BEATRICE That I was disdainful, and that I had my good Wit out of the Hundred merry Tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that said so. BENEDICK What's he? BEATRICE I am sure, you know him well enough. BENEDICK Not I, believe me. BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh? BENEDICK I pray you, what is he? BEATRICE Why, he is the Prince's jester; a very dull fool, only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they 194 laugh at him, and beat him; I am sure, he is in the fleet; I would, he had boarded me. BENEDICK When 1 know the gentleman, I'll tell him �what you say. BEATRICE Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Musick within. BENEDICK In every good thing. BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio. JOHN Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: the ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. BORACHIO And that is Claudio; I know him by his Bearing. JOHN Are you Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO You know me well, I am he. JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in hislove, he is enamour'd on Hero ; I pray you dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it. CLAUDIO How know ye, he loves her? JOHN I heard him sweat his affection. �BORACHIO So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to night. JOHN Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt John and Borachio. CLAUDIO Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of CLAUDIO 'Tis certain so—the Prince wooes for himself. 195 Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love; Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongue's. Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewel then, Hero! Enter Benedick. BENEDICK Count Claudio? CLAUDIO Yea, the same. BENEDICK Come, will you go with me? CLAUDIO Whither? BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own business, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an Usurer's chain 6? or under your arm, like a Lieutenant's scarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. CLAUDIO I wish him Joy of her. �BENEDICK Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so they fell bullocks: but did you think, the Prince would have served you thus? CLAUDIO I pray you, leave me. BENEDICK Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the Post. CLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit. BENEDICK Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. — But, that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! the Prince's fool! — ha? it may be, I go under that Title, because I am merry— O2 196 yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong: I am not so reputed. It is the base (tho' bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may. SCENE IV. Enter Don Pedro. PEDRO Now, Signior, where's the Count? Did you see him BENEDICK Troth, my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the Will of this young lady, and I offer'd him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt. �PEDRO To be whipt! what's his fault? BENEDICK The flat transgression of a School-boy; who, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it. PEDRO Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer. BENEDICK Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestow'd on you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his bird's nest. PEDRO I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. 197 BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. PEDRO The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you. BENEDICK O, she misus'd me past the indurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw; hudling jest upon jest, with such impassable conveyance upon me, that l stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me; she speaks Ponyards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the North-star; I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd ; she would have made Hercules have turn'd �Spit, yea and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God, some scholar 198 would conjure her; for, certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary, and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her. SCENE V. Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero. PEDRO Look, here she comes. BENEDICK Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot: fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard: do you any ambassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy; you have no employment for me? PEDRO None, but to desire your good company. BENEDICK O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. I cannot indure this Lady Tongue. PEDRO Come, Lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. BEATRICE Indeed, my Lord, he lent it me a while, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for a single one; marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say, I have lost it. PEDRO You have put him down, Lady, you have �put him down. BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my Lord, left I should prove the mother of fools; I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. PEDRO Why, how now, Count, wherefore are you sad? CLAUDIO Not sad, my Lord. PEDRO How then? sick? 199 CLAUDIO Neither, my Lord. BEATRICE The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil, Count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion. PEDRO I'faith, Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained; name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match, and all grace say, Amen, to it. BEATRICE Speak, Count, 'tis your cue. —— CLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and doat upon the exchange. �BEATRICE Speak, Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither. PEDRO In faith, Lady, you have a merry heart. BEATRICE Yea, my Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care; my cousin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart. CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin. BEATRICE Good Lord, for alliance! — thus goes every O4 200 one to the world but I, and I am fun-burn'd; I may sit in a corner, and cry heigh ho! for a husband. PEDRO Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. BEATRICE I would rather have one of your Father's getting: hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? your Father got excellent Husbands, if a maid could come by them. PEDRO Will you have me, Lady? BEATRICE No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working days; your Grace is too costly to wear every day: but, I beseech your Grace, pardon me, I was bound to speak all mirth and no matter. PEDRO Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE �No, sure, my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a star danc'd, and under that I was born. — Cousins, God give you joy. LEONATO Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? BEATRICE I cry you mercy, Uncle: by your Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice. SCENE VI. PEDRO By my troth, a pleasant-spirited Lady. LEONATO There's little of the melancholy element in her, my Lord; she is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dream'd of an unhappiness, and wak'd herself with laughing. PEDRO She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. 201 LEONATO O, by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of suit. PEDRO She were an excellent wife for Benedick. LEONATO O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad. PEDRO Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? CLAUDIO To-morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches, 'till love have all its rites. LEONATO �Not 'till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night, and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. PEDRO Come,you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the Interim undertake one of Hercules's labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other; I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. LEONATO My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings. CLAUDIO And I, my Lord. PEDRO And you too, gentle Hero? HERO I will do any modest office, my Lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. PEDRO And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far I can praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approv'd valour, and confirm'd honesty. 202 I will teach you how to humour your Cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that in despight of his quick wit, and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be ours for we are the only Love-Gods: go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. Changes to another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Don John and Borachio. �JOHN It is so, the Count Claudia shall marry the Daughter of Leonato. BORACHIO Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me. I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? BORACHIO Not honestly, my Lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. JOHN Shew me briefly how. BORACHIO I think, I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waitinggentlewoman to Hero. JOHN I remember. BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber window. JOHN What life is in That, to be the death of this marriage? BORACHIO The poison of That lies in you to temper; go you to the Prince your Brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his honour in marrying the 203 renown'd Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated Stale, such a one as Hero. �JOHN What proof shall I make of That? BORACHIO Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero and kill Leonato; look you for any other issue? JOHN Only to despight them, I will endeavour any thing. BORACHIO Go then find me a meet hour, to draw Don 204 Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them, that you know, Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in a love of your Brother's honour, who hath made this match; and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you have discover'd thus. They will hardly believe this without trial. Offer them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended Wedding; for in the mean time I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice: be cunning in working this, and thy see is a thousand ducats. BORACHIO Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. JOHN I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. �Changes to Leonato's Orchard. Enter Benedick, a Boy. BENEDICK Boy. BOY Signior. BENEDICK In my chamber-window lies a book, bring it hither to me in the orchard. 205 BOY I am here already, Sir. BENEDICK I know that — but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] — I do much wonder, that one man. seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviour to love, will, after he hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love! and such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no musick with him but the drum and the fife ; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe; I have known, when he would have walk'd ten mile afoot, to see a good armour; and now will he lye ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turn'd orthographer, his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool: one woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wife, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But 'till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich he shall be, that's certain; wife, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur �Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdraws. SCENE IX. Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthazar. PEDRO Come, shall we hear this musick. CLAUDIO Yea, my good lord— how still the evening is, 206 As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! PEDRO See you where Benedick hath hid himself? CLAUDIO O very well, my lord the musick ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. PEDRO Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that Song again. BALTHASAR O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander musick any more than once. PEDRO It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection; I pray thee, sing; and let me woo no more. BALTHASAR Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes; Yet will he swear, he loves. PEDRO Nay, pray thee, come; Or if thou wilt hold longer argument. Do it in notes. BALTHASAR Note this before my notes, There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting. �PEDRO Why, there are very crotchets that he speaks, Note, notes, forsooth, and noting. BENEDICK Now, divine air; now is his foul ravish'd!— is it not strange, that sheeps guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? — well, a horn for my mony, when all's done. The SONG. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea; and one on shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blith and bonny; Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nony, nony. 207 Sing no more ditties, sing no mo Of dumps so dull and heavy; The frauds of men were ever so, Since summer was first leafy: Then sigh not so, &c. PEDRO By my troth, a good Song. BALTHASAR And an ill singer, my lord. PEDRO Ha, no; no, faith thou sing'st well enough for a shift. BENEDICK [aside.] If he had been a dog, that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him; and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. PEDRO Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee get us some excellent musick; for to mor- �row night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window. BALTHASAR The best I can, my lord. [Exit Balthazar. PEDRO Do so: farewel. Come hither, Leonato; what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO O, ay; —— stalk on, stalk on, the fowl fits, [aside to Pedro.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man. LEONATO No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. BENEDICK It's possible, fits the wind in that corner? Aside. LEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an inraged affection, it is path the infinite of thought. 208 PEDRO May be, she doth but counterfeit. CLAUDIO Faith, like enough. LEONATO O God! counterfeit there was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it. PEDRO Why, what effects of passion shews she? CLAUDIO Bait the hook well, this fish will bite. [Aside. LEONATO �What effects, my lord? she will fit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. CLAUDIO She did, indeed. PEDRO How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I would have thought, her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. LEONATO I would have sworn, it had, my lord; especially against Benedick. BENEDICK [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. CLAUDIO He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. [Aside. PEDRO Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? 209 LEONATO No, and swears she never will; that's her torment. CLAUDIO 'Tis true, indeed, so your daughter says: shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him? LEONATO This says she now, when she is beginning to write to him; for she'll be up twenty times a night, and there she will fit in her smock, 'till she have writ a sheet of paper — my daughter tells us all. CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. LEONATO �Oh, — when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet. CLAUDIO That — LEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; rail'd at herself, that she should be so immodest, to write to one that, she knew, would flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own Spirit, for, I should flout him if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should. CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; O sweet Benedick! God give me patience! LEONATO She doth, indeed, my daughter says so; and the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid, she will do desperate outrage to herself; it is very true. 210 PEDRO It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. CLAUDIO To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. PEDRO If he should, it were an Alms to hang him; she's an excellent sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous. CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise. PEDRO In every thing, but in loving Benedick. LEONATO O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in �so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. PEDRO I would, she I would have half myself. what he will had bestow'd this dotage on me; daft all other respects, and made her I pray you tell Benedick of it; and hear say. LEONATO Were it good, think you? CLAUDIO Hero thinks, surely she will die; for she says, she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustom'd crossness. PEDRO She doth well; if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible, he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. CLAUDIO He is a very proper man. PEDRO He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. CLAUDIO 'Fore God, and, in my mind, very wise. PEDRO He doth, indeed, shew some sparks that are like wit. LEONATO And I take him to be valiant. PEDRO As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either 211 he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a christian-like fear. �LEONATO If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. PEDRO And so will he do, for the man God, howsoever it seems not in jests he will make. Well, I am shall we go seek Benedick, and doth fear him, by some large sorry for your Niece: tell him of her love? CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. LEONATO Nay, that's impossible, she may wear her heart out first. PEDRO Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. LEONATO My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. CLAUDIO If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Aside. PEDRO Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the Scene that I would see, which will be meerly a Dumb Show; let us send her to call him to dinner. [Aside.] [Exeunt. SCENE X. Benedick advances from the Arbour. BENEDICK This can be no trick, the conference was sadly borne. — They have the truth of this from Hero; �they seem to pity the lady it seems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear, how I am censur'd , they aay, I will P2 212 bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.—— I did never think to marry ——I must not seem proud — happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness. And virtuous; —— 'tis so, I cannot reprove it. And wife — but for loving me —— by my troth, it is no addition to her wit—— nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her. —— I may chance to have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these paper-bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? no: the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a batchelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day, she's a fair lady; I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter Beatrice. BEATRICE Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. BEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message. BEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a �knife's point, and choak a daw withal— You have no stomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit. BENEDICK Ha! against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner: —— there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; —— that's as much as to say, any pains 213 that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her picture. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. Continues in the Orchard. Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. HERO Good Margaret, run thee into thee parlour. There shalt thou find my Cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio; Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleached Bower, Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the Sun, Forbid the Sun to enter; like to Favourites, Made proud by Princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her. To listen our Purpose; this is thy office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. MARGARET I'll make her come, i warrant, presently. [Exit. HERO Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down. Our Talk must only be of Benedick; When I do name him, let it be thy Part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My Talk to thee must be, how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice; of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, �P3 214 That only wounds by hear-say: now begin. Enter Beatrice, running towards the Arbour. For look, where Beatrice, like lapwing, runs Close by the ground to hear our conference. URSULA The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait; So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now Is couched in the woodbine-coverture; Fear you not my part of she dialogue. HERO Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false-sweet bait that we say for it. ——— No, truly, Ursula, she's too disdainful; I know, her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. URSULA But are you sure, That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? HERO So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. URSULA And did they bid you tell her of it. Madam? HERO They did intreat me to acquaint her of it; But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection. And never to let Beatrice know of it. URSULA Why did you so? doth not the Gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? HERO O God of love! I know, he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: �But nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 8 Mis-prizing what they look on; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak; she cannot love, 215 Nor take no shape nor project of affection. She is so self-indeared. URSULA Sure, I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, left she make sport at it. HERO Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, how wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd. But she would spell him backward; if fair-fac'd, She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; 9 If black, why Nature, drawing of an antick. Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill- headed; 'If low, an Aglet very vilely cut; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out. And never gives to truth and virtue That, Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. URSULA Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. HERO No; for to be so odd, and from all fashions, 216 As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? if I should speak. She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly; It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling. URSULA �Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say. HERO No, rather 1 will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my Cousin with! one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking, URSULA O, do not do your Cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment, Having so swift and excellent a wit, As she is priz'd to have, as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Benedick. HERO He is the only man in Italy. Always excepted my dear Claudio. URSULA I pray you, be not angry with me. Madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, Goes foremost in report through Italy. HERO Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. URSULA His Excellence did earn it, ere he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam? HERO Why, every day — to-morrow — Come, go in. I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. URSULA She's limb'd, I warrant you; we have caught her Madam. HERO If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupids kill with arrows, Some with traps. [Exeunt. 217 Beatrice, advancing. �BEATRICE What fire is in my ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn so much? Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee; Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; If thou dost love, thy kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say, thou dost deserve and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. SCENE II. Leonato's House. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato. PEDRO I Do but stay 'till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon. CLAUDIO I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. PEDRO Nay, That would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as 218 found as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been. LEONATO So say I; methinks, you are sadder. CLAUDIO I hope, he is in love. �PEDRO Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; if he be sad, he wants mony. BENEDICK I have the tooth-ach. PEDRO Draw it. BENEDICK Hang it. CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. PEDRO What? Sigh for the tooth-ach! LEONATO Which is but a humour, or a worm. BENEDICK Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. CLAUDIO Yet say I, he is in love. PEDRO There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutch man to day, a French man to morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, a German from the waste downward, all slops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is. CLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs; he brushes his hat o' mornings; what should that bode? PEDRO Hath any man seen him at the barber's? �CLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuft tennis balls. LEONATO Indeed, he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard. 219 PEDRO Nay, he rubs himself with civet; can you smell him out by that? CLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. PEDRO The greatest note of it is his melancholy. CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face? PEDRO Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him. CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string and now govern'd by stops. PEDRO Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude he is in love. CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him. PEDRO That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not. CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him. �PEDRO She shall be buried with her Face upwards. BENEDICK Yet this is no charm for the tooth ach. Old Signior, walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wife words to speak to you, which these hobbyhorses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. PEDRO For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. CLAUDIO 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this time play'd their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another, when they meet. 220 SCENE III. Enter Don John JOHN My Lord and Brother, God save you. PEDRO Good den, brother. JOHN If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. PEDRO In private? JOHN If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear; for, what I would speak of, concerns him. PEDRO What's the matter? JOHN Means your lordship to be marry'd to morrow. [To Claudio. PEDRO You know, he does. �JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I know. CLAUDIO If there be any impediment, I pray you, discover it. JOHN You may think, I love you not; pear hereafter; and aim better will manifest; for my brother, well, and in dearness of heart ensuing marriage; surely, Suit ill bestow'd! let that apat me by That I now I think, he holds you hath holp to effect your ill spent, and Labour PEDRO Why, what's the matter? JOHN I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal. CLAUDIO Who? Hero? JOHN Even she; Leonato's Hero your Hero every man's Hero. CLAUDIO Disloyal? JOHN The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not 'till further warrant! go but with me to night, you shall see her chamber-window enter'd, even the night be221 fore her wedding day; if you love her, then to-morrow wed her but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. CLAUDIO �May this be so? PEDRO I will not think it. JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know; if you will follow me, I will shew you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. CLAUDIO If I see any thing to night why I should not marry her to-morrow; in the Congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. PEDRO And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. JOHN I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are my witnesses. Bear it coldly but 'till night, and let the issue shew itself. PEDRO O day untowardly turned! CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting! JOHN O plague right well prevented! So you will say. when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to the Street. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch. DOGBERRY ARE you good men and true? VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. �DOGBERRY Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's Watch. VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. 222 DOGBERRY First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? 1 WATCH Hugh Oatcake, Sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read. DOGBERRY Come hither, neighbour Seacole: God hath blest you with a good name: and to be a well-favour'd man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. 2 WATCH Both which, master constable —— DOGBERRY You have: I knew, it would be your answer. Well, for your Favour, Sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is 8 no need of such vanity: you are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the Constable of the Watch. therefore bear you the lanthorn; this is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's name. 2 WATCH How if he will not stand? DOGBERRY Why, then take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. VERGES �If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's Subjects. DOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's Subjects: you shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the Watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endur'd. 2 WATCH We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch. DOGBERRY Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how Sleeping should offend; only have a care that your Bills be not stolen: 223 well, you are to call at all the ale houses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed. 2 WATCH How if they will not? DOGBERRY Why then let them alone 'till they are sober; if they make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not the men you took them for. 2 WATCH Well, Sir. DOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him by virtue of your office to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. 2 WATCH If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? DOGBERRY Truly, by your office you may; but, I think, they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peacable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your �company. VERGES You have been always call'd a merciful man, Partner. DOGBERRY Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. VERGES If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 2 WATCH How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? DOGBERRY Why, then depart in Peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats. VERGES 'Tis very true. DOGBERRY This is the end of the Charge: you, constable, are to present the Prince's own person; if you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him. 224 VERGES Nay, bi'rlady, that, I think, he cannot. DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the Statues, he may stay him; marry, not without the Prince be willing: for, indeed, the Watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. VERGES Bi'rlady, I think, it be so. DOGBERRY Ha, ha, ha! well, masters, good night; an �there be any matter of weight chances, call up me; keep your fellow's counsels and your own, and good night; come, neighbour. 2 WATCH Well, masters, we hear our charge; let us go sit hereupon the church-bench 'till two, and then all to bed. DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the Wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to night; adieu; be vigilant, I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. SCENE V. Enter Borachio and Conrade. BORACHIO What! Conrade —— WATCH. Peace, stir not. [Aside. BORACHIO Conrade, I say! CONRADE Here, man, I am at thy elbow. BORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itch'd, I thought there would a scab follow. CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that, and now forward with thy tale. BORACHIO Stand thee close then under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. WATCH [Aside.] Some Treason, matters; yet stand close. �225 BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. CONRADE Is it possible that any Villany should be so dear? BORACHIO Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible any villany should be so rich? for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. CONRADE I wonder at it. BORACHIO That shews, thou art unconfirm'd; thou knowest, that the fashion of a doublet or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. CONRADE Yes, it is apparel. BORACHIO I mean the fashion. CONRADE Yes, the fashion is the fashion. BORACHIO Tush, I may as well say, the fool's the fool; but see'st thou not, what a deformed thief this fashion is? WATCH I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief these seven years; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. BORACHIO Didst thou not hear some body? CONRADE No, 'twas the vane on the house. �BORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hotbloods between fourteen and five and thirty; sometimes, fashioning them like Pharao's soldiers in the reechy Painting; sometimes, like the God Bell's priests in the old church window; 3 sometimes, like the shaven Her- 226 cules in the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club. CONRADE All this I see, and see, that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man; but art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? BORACHIO Not so neither but know, that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's Gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night — I tell this tale vilely —— I should first tell thee, how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed, and possessed by my master Don John saw a far off in the orchard this amiable encounter. CONRADE And thought they, Margaret was Hero? BORACHIO Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possest them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which, did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore, he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the Temple, and there before the whole 227 Congregation shame her with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again without a husband. �1 WATCH We charge you in the Prince's name, stand. 2 WATCH Call up the right master constable; we have here recovered the moll dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the common-wealth. 1 WATCH And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock. CONRADE Masters, masters. 2 WATCH You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. CONRADE Masters. 1 WATCH Never speak; we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. BORACHIO We are like to prove a goodly Commodity, being taken up of these mens bills. CONRADE A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you. SCENE VI. Hero's Apartment in Leonato's House, Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula. HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. URSULA I will, lady. HERO �And bid her come hither. 228 URSULA Well. [Exit Ursula. MARGARET Troth, I think, your other Rebato were better. HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. MARGARET By my troth, it's not so good; and I warrant, your cousin will say so. HERO My cousin's i fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but this. MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a moil rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the Dutchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so. HERO O, that exceeds, they say. MARGARET By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours; cloth of gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves and skirts, round underborne with a blueish tinsel; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. HERO God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy! MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. HERO Fie upon thee, art not asham'd? �MARGARET Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I think, you would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a Husband? none, I think, if it be the right Husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes. 229 SCENE VII. Enter Beatrice. HERO Good morrow, coz. BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. HERO Why, how now? do you speak in the sick tune? BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. MARGARET Clap us into Light o' love; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. BEATRICE Yes, Light o' love with your heels, then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns. MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. BEATRICE 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill— hey ho! MARGARET �For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? BEATRICE 'For the letter that begins them all, H. MARGARET Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more failing by the star. BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? MARGARET Nothing I, but God send every one their heart's desire! HERO These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. Q3 230 BEATRICE I am stufft, cousin, I cannot smell. MARGARET A maid, and stufft! there's goodly catching of cold. BEATRICE O, God help me, God help me, how long have you profest apprehension? MARGARET Ever since you left it; doth not my wit become me rarely? BEATRICE It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap — By my troth, I am sick. MARGARET Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm. HERO �There thou prick'st her with a thistle. BEATRICE Benedictus? why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. MARGARET Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning, I meant plain holy thistle: you may think, perchance, that I think you are in love; nay, bi'rlady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love; yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man; he swore, he would never marry and yet now, in despight of his heart, 2 he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted, I know not; but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do. 231 BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? MARGARET Not a false gallop. Enter Ursula. URSULA Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don JOHN and all the Gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to Church. HERO Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. Another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. LEONATO WHAT would you with me, honest neighbour? DOGBERRY �Marry, Sir, I would have some confidence with you, that decerns you nearly. LEONATO Brief, I pray you; for you see, 'tis a busy time with me. DOGBERRY Marry, this it is. Sir. VERGES Yes, in truth it is, Sir. LEONATO What is it, my good friends? DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter: an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, as honest as the skin between his brows. VERGES Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. Q4 232 DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges. LEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious. DOGBERRY It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ha? DOGBERRY Yea, and 'twere a thou land times more than 'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your worship �as of any man in the city; and tho' I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. VERGES And so am I. LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. VERGES Marry, Sir, our Watch to night, excepting your Worship's presence, hath ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. DOGBERRY A good old man, Sir; he will be talking, as they say when the age is in, the wit is out; God help us, it is a world to see — well said, i'faith, neighbour Verges — well, he's a good man 4 ; an two men ride an horse, one must ride behind — an honest foul, i'faith, Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God is to be worshipp'd; all men are not alike, alas, good neighbour! LEONATO Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. DOGBERRY Gifts, that God gives. LEONATO I must leave you. 233 DOGBERRY One word, Sir; our Watch have, indeed, comprehended two auspicious persons; and we would have them this morning examin'd before your Worship. LEONATO Take their examination yourself, and bring it me; I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. �LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. LEONATO I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Exeunt Leonato. DOGBERRY Go, good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men. VERGES And we must do it wisely. DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant; here's That [touching his forehead] shall drive some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the Jail. [Exeunt. 234 ACT IV. SCENE I. A Church. Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Friar. Claudio, Benedick, Hero and Beatrice. LEONATO Come, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. FRIAR You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady? CLAUDIO No. �LEONATO To be married to her, Friar. You come to marry her. FRIAR Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count. HERO I do. FRIAR. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you on your souls to utter it. CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? HERO None, my Lord. FRIAR Know you any, Count? LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. CLAUDIO O what men dare do! what men may do! what Men daily do! not knowing what they do! BENEDICK How now! Interjections? why, then some be of laughing, as, ha, ha, he! CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave, Will you with free and unconstrained soul 235 Give me this maid your daughter? LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me. �CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? PEDRO Nothing, unless you render her again. CLAUDIO Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness: There, Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She's but the sign and semblance of her honour: Behold, how like a maid she blushes here! O, what authority and shew of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, To witness simple virtue? would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid, By these exterior shows? but she is none: She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. LEONATO What do you mean, my Lord? CLAUDIO Not to be married, Not to knit my soul to an approved Wanton. LEONATO Dear my Lord, if you in your own approof Have vanquished the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity CLAUDIO I know what you would say. If I have known her, 236 You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large8; But, as a brother to his sister, showed Bashful sincerity, and comely love. HERO �And seemed I ever otherwise to you? CLAUDIO Out on thy Seeming! I will write against it9: You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud1 ere it be blown: But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pampered animals That rage in savage sensuality. HERO Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide? LEONATO Sweet Prince, why speak not you? PEDRO What should I speak? I stand dishonoured, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common Stale. LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream; JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. BENEDICK This looks not like a Nuptial. HERO True! O God! CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother? Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own; LEONATO All this is so; but what of this, my lord? CLAUDIO Let me but move one question to your daughter. And, by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 237 �LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. HERO O God defend me, how am I beset! What kind of catechizing call you this? CLAUDIO To make you answer truly to your name. HERO Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any just reproach? CLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero; Hero herself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talked with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. HERO I talked with no man at that hour, my Lord. PEDRO Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry, you must hear; upon mine Honour, Myself, my Brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night. Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window; Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain3, Confessed the vile encounters they have had, A thousand times in secret. JOHN Fie, fie, they are not to be named, my Lord. Not to be spoken of; There is not chastity enough in language. Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. CLAUDIO O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart? But fare thee well, most soul, most fair! farewel, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall Conjecture hang, �To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm; 238 And never shall it more be gracious. LEONATO Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? BEATRICE Why, how now, Cousin, wherefore sink you down? JOHN Come, let us go; these things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt D. Pedro, D, John and Claudio SCENE II. BENEDICK How doth the lady? BEATRICE Dead, I think; help, uncle. Hero! why, Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! LEONATO O fate! take not away thy heavy hand; Death is the fairest cover for her shame. That may be wished for. BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero? FRIAR. Have comfort, Lady. LEONATO Dost thou look up? FRIAR. Yea, wherefore should she not? LEONATO Wherefore? why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? could she here deny �The story that is printed in her blood5? Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I think, thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I, thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Myself would on the rearward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one? Chid I for That at frugal nature's frame? 239 I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not, with charitable hand, Took up a beggar's issue at my gates? Who smirched thus, and mired with infamy, I might have said, no part of it is mine; This shame derives itself from unknown loins. But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I praised, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much. That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her; why, she, O, she is fallen Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; 240 And salt too little, which may season give To her soul tainted flesh! BENEDICK Sir, Sir, be patient; For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, I know not what to say. BEATRICE O, on my soul, my cousin is bely'd. BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? BEATRICE No, truly, not; altho' until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. LEONATO Confirmed, confirmed! O, That is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron. Would the two Princes lie? and Claudio lie? �Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her soulness, Washed it with tears? hence from her, let her die. FRIAR Hear me a little, For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune. By noting of the lady. I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness bear away those blushes; And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, To burn the errors that these Princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool, Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenour of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Under some biting error. LEONATO Friar, it cannot be; Thou seest, that all the grace, that she hath left. Is, that she will not add to her damnation A sin of perjury; she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse That, which appears in proper nakedness? 241 FRIAR Lady, what man is he you are accused of? HERO They know, that do accuse me; I know none: If I know more of any man alive, Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, Prove you that any man with me conversed At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintained the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. FRIAR There is some strange misprision in the Princes. BENEDICK �Two of them have the very bent of honour, And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The Practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. LEONATO I know not: if they speak but truth of her, these hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, R 242 Nor my bad life rest me so much of friends, But they shall find awaked, in such a kind, Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, To quit me of them thoroughly. FRIAR Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the Princes left for dead1; Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead, indeed: Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family's old Monument Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. LEONATO What shall become of this? what will this do? FRIAR Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf Change slander to remorse; that is some good: But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintained, Upon the instant that she was accused, Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused, Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, �Why, then we reck the value; then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio: 243 When he shall hear she died upon his words, Th'idea of her Life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparelled in more precious habit; More moving, delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul. Than when she lived indeed. Then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest in his liver, And wish, he had not so accused her; No, though he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not, but success Will fashion the event in better shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all Aim but this be levelled false, The supposition of the lady's death Will quench the wonder of her infamy. And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. BENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: And though you know, my inwardness and love Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly as your soul Should with your body. LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. FRIAR 'Tis well consented, presently away; For to strange sores, strangely they strain the cure. R2 244 Come, lady, die to live; this wedding day, �Perhaps, is but prolonged: have patience and endure. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Manent Benedick and Beatrice. BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. BENEDICK I will not desire that. BEATRICE You have no reason, I do it freely. BENEDICK Surely, I do believe, your fair cousin is wrong'd. BEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her! BENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship? BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. BENEDICK May a man do it? BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours. BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange? BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not; it were as possible for me to say, I lov'd nothing so well as you; but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I con245 �fess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. BEATRICE Do not swear by it, and eat it. BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest, I love thee. BEATRICE Why then, God forgive me. BENEDICK What offence, sweet Beatrice? BEATRICE You have stay'd me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I lov'd you. BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. BENEDICK Come, bid me do any thing for thee. BEATRICE Kill Claudio. BENEDICK Ha! not for the wide world. BEATRICE You kill me to deny; farewel. �BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. BEATRICE I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love in you; nay, I pray you, let me go. BENEDICK Beatrice, --BEATRICE In faith, I will go. BENEDICK We'll be friends first. BEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy. BENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy? BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman! O, that I were a man! what! bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice. R 3 246 BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window? - a proper saying! BENEDICK Nay, but Beatrice. BEATRICE Sweet Hero! She is wrong'd, she is slander'd, �she is undone. BENEDICK Beat ---BEATRICE Princes and Counts! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect, a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! but manhood is melted into curtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lye, and swears it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice; by this hand, I love thee. BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. BENEDICK Think you in your soul, the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero ? BEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. BENEDICK Enough, I am engag'd; I will challenge him, I will kiss your hand, and so leave you; by this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account as you hear of me, so think of me go comfort your cousin; I must say, she is dead, and so farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to a Prison. Enter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the Town Clerk and Sexton in Gowns. TOWN CLERK Is our whole dissembly appear'd? DOGBERRY O, a stool and a cushion for the �sexton! 247 SEXTON Which be the malefactors? VERGES Marry, that am I and my Partner. DOGBERRY Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine. SEXTON But which are the offenders that are to be examin'd? let them come before master constable. TOWN CLERK Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is your name, friend? BORACHIO Borachio. TOWN CLERK Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, Sirrah? CONRADE I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade. TOWN CLERK Write down, master gentleman Conrade; masters, do you serve God? CONRADE, BORACHIO Yea, Sir, we hope. TOWN CLERK Write down, that they hope they serve God: and write God first: for God defend, but God should go before such villains Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly; how answer you for yourselves? CONRADE Marry, Sir, we say, we are none. �TOWN CLERK A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah, a word in your ear. Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are both false knaves. BORACHIO Sir, I say to you, we are none. TOWN CLERK Well, stand aside; 'fore God, they are both in a tale; have you writ down, that they are none? SEXTON Master town clerk, you go not the way to R4 248 examine, you must call the watch that are their accusers. TOWN CLERK Yea, marry, that's the deftest way, let the Watch come forth; masters, I charge you in the Prince's name accuse these men. Enter Watchmen. 1 WATCH This man said, Sir, that Don John the Prince's brother was a villain. TOWN CLERK Write down, Prince John a villain; why this is flat perjury, to call a Prince's brother villain. BORACHIO Master town-clerk ------TOWN CLERK Pray thee, fellow, Peace; I do not like thy look, I promise thee. SEXTON What heard you him say else �2 WATCH Marry, that he had receiv'd a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully. TOWN CLERK Flat burglary, as ever was committed. DOGBERRY Yea, by th' mass, that it is. SEXTON What else, fellow? 1 WATCH And that Count Claudio did mean, upon 249 his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. TOWN CLERK O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for this. SEXTON What else? 2 WATCH This is all. SEXTON And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stoll'n away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, and in this very manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master Constable, let those men be bound and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their examination. Exit. DOGBERRY Come let them be opinion'd. SEXTON Let them be in hand. 250 �CONRADE Off, Coxcomb. DOGBERRY God's my life, where's the Sexton? let him write down the Prince's officer Coxcomb: come, bind them, thou naughty varlet. CONRADE Away! you are an ass, you are an ass -----DOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! but, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass; no, thou villain, thou art lull of piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness; I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer; and which is more, an housholder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the law; go to, and a rich fellow enough; go to, and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him; bring him away; O, that I had been writ down an ass! -----[Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. Before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio. ANTONIO IF you go on thus, you will kill yourself; And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself. LEONATO I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve; give not me counsel, Nor let no Comforter delight mine ear, 251 But such a one whose wrongs do suite with mine. Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine. And bid him speak of patience; �Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain: As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape and form. If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And, Sorrow wag! cry; hem, when he should groan; Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me. And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief 252 Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage; Fetter strong madness in a silken thread; Charm ach with air, and agony with words. No, no; 'tis all mens office to speak patience To those, that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no counsel; My griefs cry louder than advertisement. ANTONIO Therein do men from children nothing differ. LEONATO I pray thee, peace; I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ach patiently; However they have writ the style of Gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance. ANTONIO Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself: Make those, that do offend you, suffer too. LEONATO There thou speak'st reason; nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me, Hero is bely'd; And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince; And all of them, that thus dishonour her. SCENE II. Enter Bon Pedro, and Claudio. �ANTONIO Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. PEDRO Good den, good den. 253 CLAUDIO Good day to both of you. LEONATO Hear you, my lords? PEDRO We have some haste, Leonato. LEONATO Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord. Are you so hasty now? well, all is one. PEDRO Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. ANTONIO If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lye low. CLAUDIO Who wrongs him? LEONATO Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou! Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, I fear thee not. CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear; In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. LEONATO Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me; I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool; As, under privilege of age, to brag What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old: know, Claudio, to thy head, �Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent child and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by; And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days. Do challenge thee to tryal of a man; I say, thou hast bely'd mine innocent child. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lyes bury'd with her ancestors, O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany! CLAUDIO My villany? LEONATO Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. PEDRO You say not right, old man. LEONATO My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body, if he dare; Despight his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. 254 CLAUDIO Away, I will not have to do with you. LEONATO Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kill'd my child; If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. ANTONIO He shall kill two of us, and men indeed; But that's no matter, let him kill one first; Win me and wear me, let him answer me; Come, follow me, boy; come, boy, follow me; Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. LEONATO Brother, -----ANTONIO Content yourself; God knows, I lov'd my Niece; �And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man, indeed, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! LEONATO Brother Anthony ----ANTONIO Hold you content; what, man? I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple: Scambling, out facing, fashion mongring boys, 255 That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, Go antickly and show an outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; And this is all. LEONATO But, brother Anthony, ----ANTONIO Come, 'tis no matter: Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. PEDRO Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; But, on my Honour, she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. LEONATO My lord, my lord ----PEDRO I will not hear you. LEONATO No! come, brother, away, I will be heard. ANTONIO And shall, or some of us will smart for it. Ex. ambo. �SCENE III. Enter Benedick. PEDRO See, see, here comes the man we went to seek. CLAUDIO Now Signior, what news? BENEDICK Good day, my lord. 256 PEDRO Welcome, Signior; you are almost come to part almost a fray. CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth. PEDRO Leonato and his brother; what think'st thou? had we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young for them. BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I came to seek you both. CLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away: wilt thou use thy wit? BENEDICK It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it? PEDRO Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? CLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us. �PEDRO As I am an honest man, he looks' pale; art thou sick or angry? CLAUDIO What? courage, man: what tho' care kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if you charge it against me - I pray you, chuse another subject. CLAUDIO Nay then give him another staff; this last was broke cross. PEDRO By this light, he changes more and more: I think, he be angry, indeed. CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear? CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge! BENEDICK You are a villain; I jest not. I will make it 257 good how you dare, with what yon dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardise. You have kill'd a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. CLAUDIO Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. PEDRO What, a feast? CLAUDIO I'faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a �calves-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say, my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. PEDRO I'll tell thee, how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I said, thou hadst a fine wit; right, says she, a fine little one; no, said I, a great wit; just, said she, a great gross one; nay, said I, a good wit; just, said she, it hurts no body; nay, said I, the gentleman is wife; certain, said she, a wife gentleman; nay, said I, he hath the tongues that I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two tongues. Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily, and said, she car'd not. PEDRO Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly; the old man's daughter told us all. CLAUDIO All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden. S 258 PEDRO But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head. CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the married man? BENEDICK Fare you well, boy, you know my mind; I �will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thank'd, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you; I must discontinue your company; your brother, the bastard, is fled from Messina; you have among you kill'd a sweet and innocent lady. For my lord lack-beard there, he and I shall meet; and 'till then, peace be with him! Exit Benedick. PEDRO He is in earnest. CLAUDIO In most profound earnest, and, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. PEDRO And hath challeng'd thee? CLAUDIO Most sincerely. PEDRO What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit! SCENE IV. Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded. CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. PEDRO But, soft you, let me see, pluck up my heart and be sad; did he not say my brother was fled? DOGBERRY Come, you, Sir; if justice cannot tame you. 259 She shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. PEDRO �How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio, one? CLAUDIO Hearken after their offence, my lord. PEDRO Officers, what offence have these men done? DOGBERRY Marry, Sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders sixth and lastly, they have bely'd a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. PEDRO First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge? CLAUDIO Rightly reason'd, and in his own division; and by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. PEDRO Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence? BORACHIO Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this Count kill me: I have deceiv'd even your very eyes; what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incens'd me to slander the lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgrac'd her, when you should marry her; my villany they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my shame; the lady is dead upon mine S2 260 �and my master's false accusation and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. PEDRO Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? CLAUDIO I have drunk poison, while he utter'd it. PEDRO But did my brother set thee on to this? BORACHIO Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. PEDRO He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery; And fled he is upon this villany. CLAUDIO Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. DOGBERRY Come, bring away the plaintiffs; by this time, our Sexton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the matter; and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. VERGES Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. SCENE V. Enter Leonato and Sexton. LEONATO Which is the villain? let me see his eyes; That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him; which of these is he? BORACHIO If you would know your wronger, look on me. LEONATO Art thou, art thou the slave, that with thy �breath Hast kill'd mine innocent child? BORACHIO Yea, even I alone. LEONATO No, not so, villain; thou bely'st thyself; Here stand a pair of honourable men, A third is fled, that had a hand in it: I thank you, Princes, for my daughter's death; Record it with your high and worthy deeds; 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. CLAUDIO I know not how to pray your patience, 261 Yet I must speak: chuse your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not. But in mistaking. PEDRO By my soul, nor I; And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight, That he'll enjoin me to. LEONATO You cannot bid my daughter live again, That were impossible but, I pray you both, Possess the People in Messina here How innocent she dy'd; and if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, Hang her an Epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones: Sing it to-night; To-morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that's dead. And she alone is heir to both of us; Give her the Right you should have given her Cousin, And so dies my revenge. CLAUDIO O noble Sir! Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me: �I do embrace your offer: and dispose for henceforth of poor Claudio. LEONATO To-morrow then I will expect your Coming, To-night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother. BORACHIO No. by my soul she was not; Nor knew not What she did, when she spoke to me. But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her. DOGBERRY Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembred in his S3 262 punishment; and also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you, examine him upon that point. LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. DOGBERRY Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. LEONATO There's for thy pains. DOGBERRY God save the foundation? LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner; and I thank thee. �DOGBERRY I leave an errant knave with your Worship, which, I beseech your Worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your Worship; I wish your Worship well: God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. Come, neighbour. [Exeunt. LEONATO Until to-morrow morning, Lords, farewel. ANTONIO Farewel, my Lords; we look for you tomorrow. 263 PEDRO We will not fail. CLAUDIO To- night I'll mourn with Hero. LEONATO Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt severally. SCENE VI. Changes to Leonato's House. Enter Benedick, and Margaret. BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man �living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it. MARGARET To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs? BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. BENEDICK A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt 264 a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers. MARGARET Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. BENEDICK If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. [Exit Margaret. BENEDICK And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of love, that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, ----- I mean, in singing but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse; why, they were never so truly turn'd over and over, as my poor self, in love; marry, I cannot shew it in rhime; I have try'd; I can find out no rhime to lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for 'scorn, born, a hard rhime; for school, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; �no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms. SCENE. VII. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee? BEATRICE Yea, Signior, and depart when thou bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but 'till then. BEATRICE Then, is spoken; fare yau well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, 265 with knowing what hath past between you and Claudio. BENEDICK Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. BEATRICE Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and soul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. BENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of its right sense, so forcible is thy wit; but, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward; and I pray thee, now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? BEATRICE For them all together; which maintain'd so politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? BENEDICK Suffer love! a good epithet; I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. �BEATRICE In spight of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours; for I will never love that, which my friend hates. BENEDICK Thou and I are too wife to woo peaceably. BEATRICE It appears not in this confession; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself. BENEDICK An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd 5 in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps. BEATRICE And how long is that, think you? BENEDICK Question? - why, an hour in clamour, and 266 a quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the wife, if Don worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself; so much for praising myself; who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy; and now tell me, how doth your Cousin? BEATRICE Very ill. BENEDICK And how do you? BEATRICE Very ill too. BENEDICK Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. �Enter Ursula. URSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd; the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently? BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, Signior; BENEDICK I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy heart; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. Changes to a Church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with Tapers. CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato? ATTENDENT It is, my lord. 267 EPITAPH Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero, that here lies: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life, that dy'd with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. CLAUDIO Now musick sound, and sing your solemn hymn. SONG Pardon, Goddess of the night, �Those that slew thy virgin knight; for the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight assist our moan; Help us to sigh and groan Heavily, heavily; Graves, yawn and yield your dead, 'Till death be uttered, Heavily, heavily. CLAUDIO Now unto thy bones good night! Yearly will ! do this Rite. PEDRO Good morrow, masters, put your torches out; The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phaebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey: 268 Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. CLAUDIO Good morrow, masters; each his several way. PEDRO Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go. CLAUDIO And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's8, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt. SCENE IX. Changes to Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero. FRIAR Did I not tell you, she was innocent? LEONATO �So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her. Upon the error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some fault for this; although against her will, as it appears, In the true course of all the question. ANTONIO Well; I am glad, that all things sort so well. BENEDICK And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. LEONATO Well, Daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves. And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit me; you know your office, brother, 269 You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give yer to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. ANTONIO Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. BENEDICK Friar, I must in treat your pains, I think. FRIAR To do what, Signior? BENEDICK To bind me, or undo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior, Your niece regards me with me an eye of favour. LEONATO That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true. BENEDICK And I do with an eye of love requite her. LEONATO The sight whereof, I think, you had from me. �From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will? BENEDICK Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical; But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd I th' state of honourable marriage; In which, good Friar, I snail desire your help. LEONATO My heart is with your liking. FRIAR And my help. SCENE X. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants. PEDRO Good morrow to this fair assembly. LEONATO Good morrow. Prince; good morrow, Claudio; We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To day to marry with my brother's daughter? CLAUDIO I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. LEONATO Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready. [Exit Antonio. PEDRO Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? CLAUDIO I think, he thinks upon the savage bull: Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, 270 And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee; As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. �BENEDICK Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow; And got a calf, in that same noble feat, Much like to you; for you have just his bleat. SCENE XI. Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula, mask'd. CLAUDIO For this I owe you; here come other reck'nings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? ANTONIO This same is she, and I do give you her. CLAUDIO Why, then she's mine; Sweet, let me see your face. LEONATO No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand Before this Friar, and swear to marry her. CLAUDIO Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband, if you like of me. HERO And when I liv'd, I was your other wife. [Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. CLAUDIO Another Hero? HERO Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live; And, surely, as I live, I am a maid. PEDRO The former Hero! Hero, that is dead! �LEONATO She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. FRIAR All this amazement can I qualify. When, after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death: Mean time let wonder seem familiar. And to the chapel let us presently. 271 BENEDICK Soft and fair, Friar. Which is Beatrice? BEATRICE I answer to that name; what is your will? BENEDICK Do not you love me? BEATRICE Why, no, no more than reason. BENEDICK Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did. BEATRICE Do not you love me? BENEDICK Troth, no, no more than reason. BEATRICE Why, then my Cousin, Margaret and Ursula, Have been deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. BENEDICK They swore you were almost sick for me. BEATRICE They swore, you were well-nigh dead for me. BENEDICK 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me? BEATRICE �No, truly, but in friendly recompence. LEONATO Come, Cousin, I am sure, you love the gentleman. CLAUDIO And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. HERO And here's another. Writ in my Cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. BENEDICK A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. BEATRICE I would not deny you; but, by this good 272 day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life; for, as I was told, you were in a consumption. BENEDICK Peace, I will stop your mouth -----[Kissing her. PEDRO How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? BENEDICK I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in than �thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin. CLAUDIO I had well hoped, thou would'st have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. BENEDICK Come, come, we are friends; let's have a Dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our our own hearts, and our wives heels. LEONATO We'll have dancing afterwards. BENEDICK First, o'my word; therefore, play, musick. 273 Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. Enter Messenger. MESSENGER My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight. And brought with armed men back to Messina. BENEDICK Think not on him 'till to-morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers, [Dance. [Exeunt omnes. K � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Johnson, 1765) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Samuel Johnson. Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat gondozott átirata Johnson jegyzetei nélkül. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/playsofwilliamsh03shak_1 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1765 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Lewis Theobald (szerkesztő) Gyurka Noémi (digitális átirat) Farkas Orsolya (digitális átirat) Almási Zsolt (digitális szerkesztés) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv PDF Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource Komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Digitális szöveg Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. The plays of William Shakespeare : in eight volumes : with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators, ed. Samuel Johnson, London : Printed for J. and R. Tonson; H. Woodfall; J. Rivington; R. Baldwin; L. Hawes, Clark and Collins; T. Longman; W. Johnston; T. Caslon; C. Corbet; T. Lownds; and the Executors of B. Dodd, London (1765) Vol. III 171-273.o. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Samuel Johnson Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1765. First Page 171 Language angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 102 Number of Volumes 8 Pages 171-273. Place London Publisher J. and R. Tonson H. Woodfall J. Rivington R. Baldwin L. Hawes Clark and Collins T. Longman W. Johnston T. Caslon C. Corbet T. Lownds Executors of B. Dodd Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. URL https://archive.org/details/playsofwilliamsh03shak_1 Volume 3 Digitális betűhív átirat komédia Much Ado About Nothing Samuel Johnson William Shakespeare https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/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/a3429e7f3575a418541baabab0938bf2.pdf 799086beea47c7e393fe58224dd28d37 PDF Text Text Much Ado about Nothing Szerk. Alexander Pope ACT I. SCENE I. [A Court before Leonato's House, Enter Leonato, Innogen, Hero and Beatrice, with a Messenger] LEONATO I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. MESSENGER He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him. LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? MESSENGER But few of any sort, and none of name. LEONATO A victory is twice it self, when the atchiever brings home full numbers; I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, call'd Claudio. MESSENGER Much deserved on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro: he hath born himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion: he hath indeed better better'd expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. MESSENGER I have already delivered him letters, and there ap[480] pears much joy in him, even so much, that joy could not shew it self modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. LEONATO �Did he break out into tears? MESSENGER In great measure. LEONATO A kind overflow of kindness; there are no faces truer than those that are so wash'd; how much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping? BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from the wars or no? MESSENGER I know none of that name, Lady; there was none such in the army of any sort. LEONATO What is he that you ask for, neice? HERO My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. MESSENGER O he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. BEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina, and challeng'd Cupid at the flight? and my uncle's fool reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the burbolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? but how many hath he kill'd? for indeed I promise to eat all of his killing. LEONATO 'Faith, neice, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. MESSENGER He hath done good service, Lady, in these wars. BEATRICE You had musty victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent stomach. MESSENGER And a good soldier too, Lady. �BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady? but what is he to a lord? MESSENGER A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuft with all honourable virtues. BEATRICE It is so indeed, he is no less than a stuft man: but for the stuffing well, we are all mortal. [481] LEONATO You must not, Sir, mistake my neice; there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them. BEATRICE Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd with one: So that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse, for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? he hath every month a new sworn brother. MESSENGER Is it possible? BEATRICE Very easily possible; he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block. MESSENGER I see, Lady, the gentleman is not in your books. BEATRICE No; if he were I would burn my study. But I pray you who is his companion? is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil? MESSENGER He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. �BEATRICE O lord, he will hang upon him like a disease; he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere it be cur'd. MESSENGER I will hold friends with you Lady, BEATRICE Do good friend. LEONATO You'll ne'er run mad, neice. BEATRICE No, not 'till a hot January. MESSENGER Don Pedro is approach'd. [Qqq] [482] SCENE II. [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and Don John.] PEDRO Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. LEONATO Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. PEDRO You embrace your charge most willingly: I think this is your daughter. LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so. BENEDICK Were you in doubt, that you askt her? �LEONATO Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a child. PEDRO You have it full Benedick, you may guess by this what you are, being a man: truly the lady fathers her self; be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father. BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. BEATRICE I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick, no body marks you. BENEDICK What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? BEATRICE Is it possible disdain should die, while she hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? courtesie it self must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence. BENEDICK Then is courtesie a turn-coat; but it is certain I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. BEATRICE A dear happiness to women, they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold [483] blood, I am of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me. BENEDICK God keep your ladyship still in that mind, so some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face. BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse, if 'twere such a face as yours were. BENEDICK Well you are a rare parrot teacher. �BEATRICE A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of yours. BENEDICK I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer; but keep your way a God's name, I have done. BEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick, I know you of old. PEDRO This is the sum of all: Leonato, Signior Claudio, and Signior Benedick; my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all; I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartily prays fome occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. LEONATO If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. Let me bid you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the prince your brother; I owe you all duty. JOHN I thank you, I am not of many words, but I thank you. LEONATO Please it your grace lead on? PEDRO Your hand Leonato, we will go together. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio.] SCENE III. CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? BENEDICK I noted her not, but I look'd on her. CLAUDIO Is she not a modest young lady? �[Qqq 2] [484] BENEDICK Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? CLAUDIO No, I pry'thee speak in sober judgment. BENEDICK Why i'faith methinks she is too low for an high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. CLAUDIO Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her. BENEDICK Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel? BENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into; but speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? come, in what key shall a man take you, to go in the song? CLAUDIO In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that I ever look'd on. BENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter; there's her cousin, if she were not possest with such a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: but I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you? CLAUDIO I would scarce trust my self, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. �BENEDICK Is't come to this, in faith? hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion? shall I never see a batchelor of threescore again? go to i' faith, if thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays: look, Don Pedro is return'd to seek you. [485] SCENE IV. [Re-enter Don Pedro and Don John.] PEDRO What secret hath held you here, that you follow'd not to Leonato's house? BENEDICK I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. PEDRO I charge thee on thy allegiance. BENEDICK You hear, Count Claudio, I cannot be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on my allegiance, mark you this, on my allegiance, he is in love; with whom? now that is your Grace's part: mark how short his answer is, with Hero, Leonato's short daughter. CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered. BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so; but indeed, God forbid it should be so. CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. PEDRO Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy. CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord. �PEDRO By my troth I speak my thought. CLAUDIO And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine. BENEDICK And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speak mine. CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel. PEDRO That she is worthy I know. BENEDICK That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me; I will die in it at the stake. PEDRO Thou wast ever an obstinate heretick in the despight of beauty. [486] CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will. BENEDICK That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks: but that I will have a recheate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me; because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do my self the right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a batchelor. PEDRO I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. BENEDICK With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love: prove that ever I lose more blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house �for the sign of blind Cupid. PEDRO Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. BENEDICK If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and call'd Adam. PEDRO Well, as time shall try; in time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. BENEDICK The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's-horns, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vilely painted; and in such great letters as they write, Here is good horse to hire, let them signifie under my sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd man. CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou would'st be horn-mad. PEDRO Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too then. PEDRO Well you will temporize with the hours; in the mean [487] time, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper, for indeed he hath made great preparation. BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage, and so I commit you. CLAUDIO To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it. PEDRO �The sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedick. BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither: ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I leave you. [Exit.] SCENE V. CLAUDIO My Liege, your highness now may do me good. PEDRO My love is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. CLAUDIO Hath Leonato any son, my lord? PEDRO No child but Hero, she's his only heir: Dost thou affect her, Claudio? CLAUDIO O my lord, When you went onward on this ended action I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love; But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts Have left their places vacant; in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is, Saying I lik'd her ere I went to wars. PEDRO Thou wilt be like a lover presently, And tire the hearer with a book of words: [488] If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, And I'll break with her: was't not to this end, That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? CLAUDIO �How sweetly do you minister to love, That know love's grief by his complection! But left my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. PEDRO What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity; Look what will serve, is fit; 'tis once thou lovest, And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have revelling to-night, I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart, And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale: Then after to her father will I break, And the conclusion is, she shall be thine; In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt. Re-enter Leonato and Antonio.] LEONATO How now brother, where is my cousin your son? hath he provided this musick? ANTONIO He is very busie about it; but brother, I can tell you news that you yet dream'd not of. LEONATO Are they good? ANTONIO As the event stamps them, but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard, were thus over-heard by a man of mine: the Prince discover'd to Claudio that he lov'd my neice your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and if he found her accordant, [489] meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it. LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? �ANTONIO A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him your self. LEONATO No, no; we will hold it as a dream, 'till it appear it self: but I will acquaint my daughter with all, that she may be the better prepared for answer, if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of it: cousins, you know what you have to do. O, I cry you mercy, friend, go you with me and I will use your skill; good cousin have a care this busie time. [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. [SCENE changes. Enter Don John and Conrade.] CONRADE What the good year my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore the sadness is without limit. CONRADE You should hear reason. JOHN And when I have heard it, what blessing bringeth it? CONRADE If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. JOHN I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsie, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. CONRADE Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, 'till you may do it without controlement; you have of late stood [R r r] �[490] out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the fair weather that you make your self; it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing villain; I am trusted with a muzzel, and infranchised with a clog, therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent? JOHN I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? what news, Borachio? [Enter Borachio.] BORACHIO I came yonder from a great supper; the Prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? what is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? BORACHIO Marry it is your brother's right hand. JOHN Who, the most exquisite Claudio? BORACHIO Even he. JOHN A proper Squire; and who, and who? which way looks he? �BORACHIO Marry on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. JOHN A very forward March chick! How come you to this? BORACHIO Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking in a musty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the arras, and there heard [491] it agreed upon that the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio. JOHN Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my displeasure: that young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any way, I bless my self every way; you are both sure, and will assist me? CONRADE To the death, my lord. JOHN Let us to the great supper, their cheer is the greater that I am subdu'd; would the cook were of my mind: shall we go prove what's to be done? BORACHIO We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.] ACT II. SCENE I. [Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Innogen, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret and Ursula.] LEONATO Was not Count John here at supper? ANTONIO I saw him not. BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I �never can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after. HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition. BEATRICE He were an excellent man that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedick; the one is too like an image, and says nothing; and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tatling. LEONATO Then half Signior Benedict's tongue in Count John's [R r r 2] [492] mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedict's face----BEATRICE With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, and mony enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good-will. LEONATO By my troth, neice, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. ANTONIO In faith she's too curst. BEATRICE Too curst is more than curst, I shall lessen God's sending that way; for it is said, God sends a curst cow short horns, but to a cow too curst he sends none. LEONATO So by being too curst, God will send you no horns. BEATRICE Just, if he send me no husband, for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening: Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lye in woollen. LEONATO �You may light upon a husband that hath no beard. BEATRICE What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? he that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take fix pence in earnest of the bearherd, and lead his apes into hell. LEONATO Well then, go you into hell. BEATRICE No, but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and say, get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heav'n, here's no place for you maids: so deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns; he shews me where the batchelors fit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. ANTONIO Well neice, I trust you will be rul'd by your father. [To Hero.] [493] BEATRICE Yes faith, it is my cousin's duty to make curtsie, and say, as it please you; but yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsie, and say, father, as it pleases me. LEONATO Well neice, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. BEATRICE Not 'till God make men of some other metal than earth; would it not grieve a woman to be over-master'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make account of her life to a clod of wayward marle? no, uncle, I'll none; Adam's sons are my brethren,. and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEONATO Daughter, remember what I told you if the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your answer. �BEATRICE The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; if the prince be too importunate, tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the Answer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace; the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly modest, as a measure, full of state and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into his grave. LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by daylight. LEONATO The revellers are entring, brother; make good room. SCENE II. [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade.] PEDRO Lady, will you walk about with your friend? [494] HERO So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk away. PEDRO With me in your company? HERO I may say so when I please. PEDRO And when please you to say so? HERO When I like your favour; for God defend the lute should be like the case. �PEDRO My visor is Philemon's roof, within the house is love. HERO Why then your visor should be thatch'd. PEDRO Speak low, if you speak love. BENEDICK Well, I would you did like me. MARGARET So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities. BENEDICK Which is one? MARGARET I say my Prayers aloud. BENEDICK I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen. MARGARET God match me with a good dancer. BALTHAZAR Amen. MARGARET And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done: answer clerk. BALTHAZAR No more words, the clerk is answer'd. URSULA I know you well enough, you are Signior Antonio. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA I know you by the wagling of your head. �ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him. URSULA You could never do him so ill, well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA Come, come, do you think I do not know you by [495] your excellent wit? can virtue hide it self? go to, mum, you are he; graces will appear, and there's an end. BEATRICE Will you not tell me who told you so? BENEDICK No, you shall pardon me. BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me who you are? BENEDICK Not now. BEATRICE That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the hundred merry tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that said so. BENEDICK What's he? BEATRICE I am sure you know him well enough. BENEDICK Not I, believe me. BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh? BENEDICK �I pray you what is he? BEATRICE Why, he is the Prince's jester, a very dull fool, only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him; I am sure he is in the fleet, I would he had boarded me. BENEDICK When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. BEATRICE Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me, which peradventure not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. BENEDICK In every good thing. BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt.] [496] SCENE III. [Musick for the Dance.] JOHN Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: the ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. BORACHIO And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing. JOHN Are not you Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO You know me well, I am he. �JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero, I pray you dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it. CLAUDIO How know you he loves her? JOHN I heard him swear his affection. BORACHIO So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight. JOHN Come let us to the banquet. [Exeunt John and Borachio.] CLAUDIO Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so, the prince woos for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love; Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues, Let every eye negotiate for it self, And trust no agent; beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewel then, Hero! [Enter Benedick.] BENEDICK Count Claudio? [497] CLAUDIO Yea the same. BENEDICK Come, will you go with me? CLAUDIO �Whither? BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own business, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an Usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a Lieutenant's scarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. CLAUDIO I wish him joy of her. BENEDICK Why that's spoken like an honest drover; so they sell bullocks: but did you think the Prince would have served you thus? CLAUDIO I pray you leave me. BENEDICK Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. CLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit.] BENEDICK Alas poor hurt fowle, now will he creep into sedges. But that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! the Prince's fool! ha? it may be I go under that title, because I am merry; yea, but so I am apt to do my self wrong: I am not so reputed. It is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may. SCENE IV. [Enter Don Pedro.] PEDRO Now Signior, where's the Count? did you see him? BENEDICK Troth my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the will of this young lady, and I offered him my company to a �[S f f] [498] willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him a rod, as being worthy to be whipt. PEDRO To be whipt! what's his fault? BENEDICK The flat transgression of a school-boy, who being over-joy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it. PEDRO Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer. BENEDICK Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who (as I take it) have stoln his bird's nest. PEDRO I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say honestly. PEDRO The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you. BENEDICK O she misus'd me past the indurance of a block; an oak but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been my self, that I was the Prince's jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw; hudling jest upon jest, with such impossible conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me; she speaks Ponyards, and every word stabs; if her breath were as terrible as terminations, there were no �living near her, she would infect to the North-Star; I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd; she would have made Hercules have turn'd spit, yea and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her the infer[499] nal Ate in good apparel. I would to God conjure her, for certainly while she is as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary, and pose, because they would go thither; so ror, and perturbation follow her. some scholar would here a man may live people sin upon purindeed all disquiet, hor- SCENE V. [Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero.] PEDRO Look here she comes. BENEDICK Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any embassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy; you have no employment for me? PEDRO None, but to desire your good company. BENEDICK O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. I cannot indure this Lady's tongue. [Exit.] PEDRO Come Lady, come, you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. BEATRICE Indeed my Lord, he lent it me a while, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for a single one; marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it. �PEDRO You have put him down, Lady, you have put him down. BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools: I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. PEDRO Why how now Count, wherefore are you sad? [S f f 2] [500] CLAUDIO Not sad, my Lord. PEDRO How then? sick? CLAUDIO Neither, my Lord. BEATRICE The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil Count, civil as an orange, and something of a jealous complexion. PEDRO I'faith Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes; his Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it. BEATRICE Speak Count, 'tis your cue. CLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give away my self for you, and doat up- �on the exchange. BEATRICE Speak Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. PEDRO In faith Lady, you have a merry heart. BEATRICE Yea my Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care; my cousin tells him in his ear that he is in my heart. CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin. BEATRICE Good Lord, for alliance! thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner, and cry heigh ho for a husband. PEDRO Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. BEATRICE I would rather have one of your father's getting: hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. [501] PEDRO Will you have me, Lady? BEATRICENo, my Lord, unless I might have another for working-days; your Grace is too costly to wear every day: but I beseech your Grace pardon me, I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. PEDRO Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for out of question you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No sure my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a star danc'd, and under that I was born. Cousins, God give you joy. �LEONATO Neice, will you look to those things I told you of? BEATRICE I cry you mercy, uncle: by your Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice.] SCENE VI. PEDRO By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady. LEONATO There's little of the melancholy element in her, my Lord; she is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dream'd of unhappiness, and wak'd her self with laughing. PEDRO She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. LEONATO O by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of suit. PEDRO She were an excellent wife for Benedick. LEONATO O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd they would talk themselves mad. PEDRO Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church ? CLAUDIO To-morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches, 'till love have all his rites. LEONATO Not 'till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night, and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. [502] PEDRO Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but �I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will in the Interim undertake one of Hercules's labours, which is to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other; I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. LEONATO My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings. CLAUDIO And I my Lord. PEDRO And you too, gentle Hero? HERO I will do any modest office, my Lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. PEDRO And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far can I praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approv'd valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practice on Benedick, that in despight of his quick wit, and his queasie stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice: if we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be ours, for we are the only LoveGods; go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt.] SCENE VII. [SCENE changes. Enter Don John and Borachio.] JOHN It is so, the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. BORACHIO Yea my Lord, but I can cross it. JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me; I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever �[503] comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? BORACHIO Not honestly my Lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. JOHN Shew me briefly how. BORACHIO I think I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero. JOHN I remember. BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's chamber window. JOHN What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage? BORACHIO The poison of that lyes in you to temper; go you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his honour in marrying the renown'd Claudio, (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. JOHN What proof shall I make of that? BORACHIO Proof enough, to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you for any other issue? JOHN Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. BORACHIO Go then find me a meet hour, to draw on Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them that you know Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in a love of your brother's honour who hath made this match, and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the �semblance of a maid, that you have discover'd thus; they will hardly believe this without tryal: offer them instances which shall bear no less likelihood than to fee me at her chamber window, hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudio, and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding; for in the mean time I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such seeming [504] truths of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousie shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. BORACHIO Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. JOHN I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exe.] SCENE VIII. [Leonato's Garden. Enter Benedick and a Boy.] BENEDICK Boy. BOY Signior. BENEDICK In my chamber window lyes a book, bring it hither to me in the orchard. BOY I am here already, Sir. [Exit Boy.] BENEDICK I know that, but I would have thee hence, and here again. I do much wonder, that one man seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviours to love, �will after he hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love! and such a man is Claudio, I have known when there was no musick with him but the drum and the fife, and now had he rather hear the taber and the pipe : I have known when he would have walk'd ten mile a-foot, to see a good armour; and now will he lye ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier, and now is he turn'd orthographer, his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I can[505] not tell, I think not. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool: one woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But 'till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; "wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her: fair, or I'll never look on her;" mild, or come not near me; noble, or not for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. SCENE IX. [Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthazar.] PEDRO Come, shall we hear this musick? CLAUDIO Yea, my good lord; how still the evening is, As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony. PEDRO See you where Benedick hath hid himself? CLAUDIO O very well, my lord; the musick ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. PEDRO Come Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. BALTHAZAR �O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander musick any more than once. PEDRO It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection; I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more. [T t t] [506] The SONG. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blith and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nony, nony. Sing no more ditties, sing no more, Of dumps so dull and heavy; The frauds of men were ever so, Since summer first was leafy: Then sigh not so, &c. PEDRO By my troth a good song. BALTHAZAR And an ill singer, my lord. PEDRO Ha, no; no faith; thou sing'st well enough for shift. BENEDICK If he had been a dog that should have howl'd thus they would have hang'd him, and I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief; I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. PEDRO Yea marry, dost thou hear Balthazar? I pray thee [507] �get us some excellent musick; for to-morrow we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber window. BALTHAZAR The best I can, my lord. [Exit Balthazar.] PEDRO Do so: farewell. Come hither Leonato; what was it you told me of to-day, that your neice Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO O ay, stalk on; stalk on, the fowl fits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man. LEONATO No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. BENEDICK Is't possible, sits the wind in that corner? LEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. PEDRO May be she doth but counterfeit. CLAUDIO Faith like enough. LEONATO O God! counterfeit? there was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. PEDRO Why, what effects of passion shews she? CLAUDIO Bait the hook well, the fish will bite. LEONATO What effects, my lord? she will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. �CLAUDIO She did indeed. PEDRO How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. LEONATO I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially against Benedick. BENEDICK I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot sure hide himself in such reverence. [T t t 2] [508] CLAUDIO He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. PEDRO Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? LEONATO No, and swears she never will, that's her torment. CLAUDIO 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter says: shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him? LEONATO This says she now, when she is beginning to write to him; for she'll be up twenty times a-night, and there will she sit in her smock, 'till she have writ a sheet of paper; my daughter tells us all. CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. LEONATO O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet. �CLAUDIO That. LEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, rail'd at her self, that she should be so immodest, to write to one that she knew wou'd flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own spirit, for I should flout him if he writ to me, yea though I love him, I should. CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; O sweet Benedick! God give me patience! LEONATO She doth indeed, my daughter says so, and the ecstasie hath so much overborn her, that my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a desperate outrage to her self; it is very true. PEDRO It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. CLAUDIO To what end? he would torment the poor lady PEDRO If he should, it were excellent sweet lady, but make a sport of it, and worse. an alms to hang him; she's an and (but of all suspicion) she is virtuous. CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise. [509] PEDRO In every thing, but in loving Benedick. LEONATO O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. PEDRO I would she had bestow'd this dotage on me; I would have dofft all other respects, and made her half my self; I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. �LEONATO Were it good, think you? CLAUDIO Hero thinks surely she will die, for she says she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustom'd crossness. PEDRO She doth well; if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. CLAUDIO He is a very proper man. PEDRO He hath indeed a good outward happiness. CLAUDIO 'Fore God, and in my mind very wise. PEDRO He doth indeed shew some sparks that are like wit. LEONATO And I take him to be valiant. PEDRO As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may see he is wise, for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a christian-like fear. Well, I am sorry for your neice: shall we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love? CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord, let her wear it out with good counsel. [510] LEONATO Nay, that's impossible, she may wear her heart out first. PEDRO Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; �let it cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. LEONATO My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. CLAUDIO If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. PEDRO Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry; the sport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that I would see, which will be meerly a dumb shew; let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Exeunt.] SCENE X. BENEDICK This can be no trick, the conference was sadly born; they have the truth of this from Hero, they seem to pity the lady; it seems her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited: I hear how I am censur'd; they say I will bear my self proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection--- I did never think to marry---- I must not seem proud--- happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness: and virtuous;'tis so, I cannot reprove it: and wise, but for loving me---by my troth it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her,--- I may chance to have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite al[511] ter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quipps and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? no: the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a batchelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day she's a fair lady, I do spy some marks of love in her. �[Enter Beatrice.] BEATRICE Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. BEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message. BEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no stomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit.] BENEDICK Ha! against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner: there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me; that's as much as to say, any pains that I take for you is as easie as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her picture. [Exit.] [512] ACT III. SCENE I. [Continues in the Garden. Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.] HERO Good Margaret run thee into the parlour, There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the prince and Claudio; Whisper her ear, and tell her I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her say that thou overheard'st us, And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 'Where honey-suckles ripen'd by the sun 'Forbid the sun to enter; like to favourites �'Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 'Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her, To listen to our purpose; this is thy office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. MARGARET I'll make her come I warrant presently. [Exit.] HERO Now Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick; When I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice; of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hear-say: now begin. [513] [Enter Beatrice.] For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs Close by the ground to hear our conference. URSULA The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait; So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now Is couched in the woodbine coverture; Fear you not my part of the dialogue. HERO Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. No truly Ursula she's too disdainful, I know her spirits are as coy and wild, As haggerds of the rock. URSULA But are you sure That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely? HERO So says the prince, and my new trothed lord. �URSULA And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? HERO They did intreat me to acquaint her of it; But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrastle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. URSULA Why did you so? doth not the gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed. As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? HERO O God of love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: But nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Mis-prizing what they look on, and her wit Values it self so highly, that to her [U u u] [514] All matter else seems weak; she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-indeared. URSULA Sure I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. HERO Why you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, But she would spell him backward; 'if fair-fac'd, 'She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister; 'If black, why nature drawing of an antick, 'Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed; 'If low, an agat very vilely cut; 'If speaking, why a vane blown with all winds; 'If silent, why a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. �URSULA Sure, sure such carping is not commendable. HERO No, for to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? if I should speak, She'd mock me into air, O she would laugh me Out of my self, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly; It were a bitter death to die with mocks, Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling. URSULA Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say. HERO No, rather I will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And truly I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with; one doth not know [515] How much an ill word may impoison liking. URSULA O do not do your cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment, (Having so sweet and excellent a wit, As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Benedick. HERO He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. URSULA I pray you be not angry with me, Madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, Goes formost in report through Italy. HERO Indeed he hath an excellent good name. URSULA �His excellence did earn it ere he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam? HERO Why every day, to-morrow; come go in, I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. URSULA She's ta'en, I warrant you; we have caught her, Madam. HERO If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupids kill with arrows, some with traps. [Exeunt.] BEATRICE What fire is in my ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? Contempt farewel, and maiden pride adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And Benedick love on, I will requite thee. Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit.] [U u u 2] [516] SCENE II. [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.] PEDRO I Do but stay 'till your marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. CLAUDIO I'll bring you thither my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. PEDRO Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his com- �pany, for from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been. LEONATO So say I; methinks you are sadder. CLAUDIO I hope he is in love. PEDRO Hang him truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; if he be sad, he wants mony. BENEDICK I have the tooth-ach. PEDRO Draw it. BENEDICK Hang it. CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. PEDRO What? sigh for the tooth-ach! LEONATO Which is but a humour, or a worm. BENEDICK Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. CLAUDIO Yet say I he is in love. PEDRO There is no appearance of fancy a fancy that he hath to strange to-day, a French man to-morrow; foolery, as it appears he hath, would have it to appear he is. in him, unless it be disguises, as to be a Dutch man unless he have a fancy to this he is no fool for fancy, as you �[5] [517] CLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs; he brushes his hat a-mornings: what should that bode? PEDRO Hath any man seen him at the barber's? CLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuft tennis balls. LEONATO Indeed he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard. PEDRO Nay he rubs himself with civet, can you smell him out by that? CLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. PEDRO The greatest note of it is his melancholy. CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face? PEDRO Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say of him. CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string, and now govern'd by stops----PEDRO Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude he is in love. CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him. �PEDRO That would I know too: I warrant one that knows him not. CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him. PEDRO She shall be bury'd with her face upwards. BENEDICK Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old Signior, walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wise words to speak to you which these hobby-horses must not hear. PEDRO For my life to break with him about Beatrice. CLAUDIO 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. [518] SCENE III. [Enter Don John.] JOHN My Lord and brother, God save you. PEDRO Good den, brother. JOHN If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. PEDRO In private? JOHN If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him. PEDRO What's the matter? �JOHN Means your lordship to be marry'd to-morrow? [To Claudio.] PEDRO You know he does. JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I know. CLAUDIO If there be any impediment I pray you discover it. JOHN You may think I love you not, let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest; for my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage; surely, suit ill spent, and labour ill bestow'd. PEDRO Why, what's the matter? JOHN I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal. CLAUDIO Who? Hero? JOHN Even she, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. CLAUDIO Disloyal? JOHN The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not 'till further warrant; go but with me tonight, you shall see her chamber window enter'd, even the night [519] before her wedding-day; if you love her, then to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. CLAUDIO �May this be so? PEDRO I will not think it. JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know; if you will follow me, I will shew you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. CLAUDIO If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation where I should wed, there will I shame her. PEDRO And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. JOHN I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are my witnesses; bear it coldly but 'till night, and let the issue shew it self. PEDRO O day untowardly turned! CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting! JOHN O plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. [The Street. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch.] DOGBERRY Are you good men and true? VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. DOGBERRY Nay that were a punishment too good for them, if they �should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's WATCH VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. DOGBERRY First, who think you the most disartless man to be constable? [520] 1 WATCH Hugh Oatecake, Sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read. DOGBERRY Come hither neighbour Seacoal: God hath blest you with a good name; to be a well-favour'd man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. 2 WATCH Both which, master constable----DOGBERRY You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, Sir, why give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity: you are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch, therefore bear you the lanthorn; this is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Prince's name. 2 WATCH How if he will not stand? DOGBERRY Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. VERGES If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's subjects. DOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's subjects: you shall also make no noise in the streets; �for, for the watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endur'd. 2 WATCH We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch. DOGBERRY Why you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend; only have a care that your bills be not stollen: well, you are to call at all the alehouses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed. 2 WATCH How if they will not? DOGBERRY Why then let them alone 'till they are sober; if they [521] make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for. 2 WATCH Well, Sir. DOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him by vertue of your office to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty. 2 WATCH If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him ? DOGBERRY Truly by your office you may; but I think they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your company. VERGES You have been always call'd a merciful man, partner. DOGBERRY Truly I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. �VERGES If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 2 WATCH How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? DOGBERRY Why then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a call when he bleats. VERGES 'Tis very true. DOGBERRY This is the end of the charge: you, constable, are to present the Prince's own person, if you meet the Prince in the night you may stay him. VERGES Nay birlady, that I think he cannot. DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the statues, he may stay him; marry, not without the Prince be willing: for indeed the watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. VERGES Birlady, I think it be fo. DOGBERRY Ha, ha, ha! well, masters, good night; an there be [Xxx] [522] any matter of weight chances, call up me; keep your fellow's counsel and your own, and good night; come neighbour. 2 WATCH Well, masters, we hear our charge; let us go fit here upon the church bench 'till two, and then all to bed. DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch �about Signior Leonato's door, for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil to-night adieu; be vigilant I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.] SCENE V. [Enter Borachio and Conrade.] BORACHIO What, Conrade. WATCH Peace, stir not. [Aside.] BORACHIO Conrade, I say. CONRADE Here man, I am at thy elbow. BORACHIO Mass and my elbow itch'd, I thought there would a scab follow. CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that, and now forward with thy tale. BORACHIO Stand thee close then under this pent-house, for it drizles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. WATCH Some treason, masters; yet stand close. BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. CONRADE Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? BORACHIO Thou should'st rather ask if it were possible any villany should be so rich? for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. �CONRADE I wonder at it. BORACHIO That shews thou art unconfirm'd, thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak is nothing to a roan. CONRADE Yes it is apparel. [523] BORACHIO I mean the fashion. CONRADE Yes the fashion is the fashion. BORACHIO Tush, I may as well say the fool's the fool; but seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? WATCH I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief this seven years; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. BORACHIO Didst thou not hear some body? CONRADE No, 'twas the vane on the house. BORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is, how giddily he turns about all the hot-bloods between fourteen and five and thirty, sometimes fashioning them like Pharao's soldiers in the rechy painting, sometimes like the God Bell's priest in the old church-window, sometimes like the shaven Hercules in the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massie as his club. CONRADE All this I see, and see that the fashion wears oat more apparel than the man; but art not thou thy self giddy with the fashion, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? �BORACHIO Not so neither; but know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the lady Herd's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night— —I tell this tale vildly should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my master planted and plac'd, and possessed by my master Don John, saw far off in the orchard this amiable encounter. CONRADE And thought thy Margaret was Hero? BORACHIO Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths which first possest them, partly by the dark night which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made; away went Claudio enraged, [X X X 2] [524] swore he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the temple, and there before the whole congregation (name her with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again without a husband. 1 WATCH We charge you in the Prince's name stand. 1 WATCH Call up the right master constable, we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the common-wealth. 1 WATCH And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock. CONRADE Masters, masters. 2 WATCH You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. CONRADE Masters, never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. �BORACHIO We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken a up of these mens bills. CONRADE A commodity in question I warrant you: come we'll obey you. [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. [Leonato's House. Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.] HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. URSULA I will, lady. HERO And bid her come hither. URSULA Well. MARGARET Troth I think your other rebato were better. HERO No pray thee good Meg, I'll wear this. MARGARET By my troth it's not so good, and I warrant your cousin will say so. [525] HERO My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but this. MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion i'faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so. �HERO O, that exceeds, they say. MARGARET By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours; cloth of gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves and skirts, round, underborn with a bluish tinsel; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. HERO God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy. MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. HERO Fie upon thee, art not asham'd? MARGARET Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your lord honourable without marriage ? I think you would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a husband? none I think, if it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes. SCENE VII. [Enter Beatrice.] HERO Good morrow, coz. BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. HERO Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune? BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. MARGARET Clap us into Light o' love; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. �[526] BEATRICE Yes light o' love with your heels; then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns. MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. BEATRICE 'Tis almost five a clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready: by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho! MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H. MARGARET Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? MARGARET Nothing I, but God fend every one their heart's desire. HERO These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. MARGARETA A maid and stuffed! there's a goodly catching of cold. BEATRICE O God help me, God help me, how long have you professed apprehension? MARGARET Ever since you left it; doth not my wit become me rarely? BEATRICE It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By �my troth, I am sick. MARGARET Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart, it is the only thing for a qualm. HERO There thou prick'st her with a thistle. BEATRICE Benedictus? why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. MARGARET Moral? no by my troth, I have no moral meaning, I meant plain holy-thistle; you may think perchance that I think you are in love, nay, birlady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man; he swore he would never marry, and yet now in 527 despite of his heart he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do. BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? MARGARET Not a false gallop. URSULA Madam withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church. HERO Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt.] SCENE VIII. [Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.] �LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbour? DOGBERRY Marry Sir I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly. LEONATO Brief I pray you, for you see 'tis a busy time with me. DOGBERRY Marry this it is, Sir. VERGES Yes in truth it is, Sir. LEONATO What is it, my good friends? DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter, an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as God help I would desire they were, but in faith as honest as the skin between his brows. VERGES Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man and no honester than I. DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges. LEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious. DOGBERRY It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but truly for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ha? [528] DOGBERRY Yea, and twice a thousand times more than 'tis, for �I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and tho' I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. VERGES And so am I. LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. VERGES Marry Sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, hath ta'en couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. DOGBERRY A good old man, Sir, he will be talking as they say; when the age is in the wit is out, God help us, it is a world to see: well said i'faith, neighbour Verges, well, he's a good man; an two men ride an horse, one must ride behind; an honest foul i'faith Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God is to be worship'd; all men are not alike, alas good neighbour! LEONATO Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you. DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives. LEONATO I must leave you. DOGBERRY One word, Sir; our watch have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examin'd before your worship. LEONATO Take their examination yourself, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. [Enter a Messenger.] �MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. LEONATO I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Exit LEONATO.] DOGBERRY Go good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men. [529] VERGES And we must do it wisely. DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant; here's that shall drive some of them to non-come. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the Jail. [Exeunt.] ACT IV. SCENE 1. [A church. Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice.] LEONATO Come, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. FRIAR You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady? CLAUDIO No. LEONATO To be marry'd to her, friar; you come to marry her. FRIAR Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count? �HERO I do. FRIAR If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your souls to utter it. CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? HERO None, my Lord. FRIAR Know you any, Count? LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. [Y y y] [530] CLAUDIO O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! BENEDICK How now! Interjections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he! CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave. Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid your daughter? LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me. CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? PEDRO Nothing, unless you render her again. CLAUDIO Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness: �There Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She's but the sign and semblance of her honour: Behold how like a maid she blushes here! O what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, To witness simple virtue? would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid, By these exterior shows? but she is none: She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; Her blush is guiltiness not modesty. LEONATO What do you mean, my Lord? CLAUDIO Not to be marry'd, Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. LEONATO Dear my Lord, if you in your own proof Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth. And made defeat of her virginity----CLAUDIO I know what you would say: if I have known her, You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin. No, Leonato, [531] I never tempted her with word too large. But as a brother to his sister, shew'd Bashful sincerity, and comely love. HERO And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? CLAUDIO Out on thy seeming, I will write against it; You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown: But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus or those pamper'd animals That rage in savage sensuality. HERO �Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide ? LEONATO Sweet Prince, why speak not you? PEDRO What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale, LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial. HERO True! O God! CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother? Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? LEONATO All this is so but what of this, my lord? CLAUDIO Let me but move one question to your daughter. And by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. HERO O God defend me, how am I beset! What kind of cathechizing call you this? LEONATO To make you answer truly to your name. HERO Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any just reproach? �CLAUDIO Marry that can Hero; [Y y y 2] [532] Hero her self can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now if you are a maid answer to this. HERO I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord. PEDRO Why then you are no maiden. Leonato I am sorry you must hear; upon mine honour, My self, my brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window. Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. JOHN Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, Not to be spoken of; There is not chastity enough in language. Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. CLAUDIO O Hero I what a Hero hadst thou been. If half thy outward graces had been plac'd About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart? But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewel Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love. And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm. And never shall it more be gracious. LEONATO Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? BEATRICE Why how now cousin, wherefore sink you down? �JOHN Come, let us go; these things come thus to light Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt D.Pedro, D.John and Claudio.] [533] SCENE II. BENEDICK How doth the lady? BEATRICE Dead I think; help, uncle. Hero! why Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick! friar! LEONATO O fate! take not away thy heavy hand, Death is the fairest cover for her shame That may be wish'd for. BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero? FRIAR Have comfort, Lady. LEONATO Dost thou look up? FRIAR Yea, wherefore should she not? LEONATO Wherefore? why doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood? Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, My self would on the rereward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had not I, with charitable hand, Took up a beggar's issue at my gates? Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamy, �I might have said, no part of it is mine, This shame derives it self from unknown loins? But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much, That I my self was to my self not mine, Valuing of her; why she, O she is fall'n [534] Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again, And salt too little which may season give To her foul tainted flesh. BENEDICK Sir, Sir, be patient; For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, I know not what to say. BEATRICE O, on my soul my cousin is bely'd. BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? BEATRICE No truly, not; altho' until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. LEONATO Confirm'd, confirm'd! O that is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron. Would the Prince lie? and Claudio would he lie, Who lov'd her so, that speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? hence from her, let her die. FRIAR Hear me a little, For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady. I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness bear away those blushes, And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire To burn the errors that these princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool, Trust not my reading, nor my obfervations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant �The tenure of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here, Under some biting error. LEONATO Friar, it cannot be; [535] Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left, Is, that she will not add to her damnation A sin of perjury, she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse, That which appears in proper nakedness? FRIAR Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? HERO They know that do accuse me, I know none: If I know more of any man alive Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy. O my father, Prove you that any man with me convers'd At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. FRIAR There is some strange misprision in the Princes. BENEDICK Two of them have the very bent of honour, And if their wisdoms be mis-led in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. LEONATO I know not: if they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dry'd this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havock of my means, Nor my bad life rest me so much of friends, But they shall find awak'd in such a kind, Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, �To quit me of them throughly. FRIAR Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princess (left for dead) 536 Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed: Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family's old monument Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. LEONATO What shall become of this? what will this do? FRIAR Marry, this well carry'd, shall on her behalf Change slander to remorse; that is some good: But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travel look for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Upon the instant that she was accus'd, Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd, Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not shew us Whilst it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio: 'When he shall hear she dy'd upon his words, 'Th' idea of her 'love shall sweetly creep 'Into his study of imagination, 'And every lovely organ of her life 'Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit; 'More moving, delicate, and full of life, 'Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 'Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest in his liver, And wish he had not so accused her; No, tho' he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not but success Will fashion the event in better shape [537] �Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim but this be levell'd false, The supposition of the lady's death Will quench the wonder of her infamy. And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. BENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: And tho' you know my inwardness and love Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly, as your soul Should with your body. LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. FRIAR 'Tis well consented, presently away, For to strange sores, strangely they strain the cure. Come lady, die to live; this wedding-day Perhaps is but prolong'd: have patience and endure. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. [Manent Benedick and Beatrice.] BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. BENEDICK I will not desire that. BEATRICE You have no reason, I do it freely. BENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wrong'd. BEATRICE �Ah how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! BENEDICK Is there any way to shew such friendship? [Z z z] [538] BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. BENEDICK May a man do it? BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours. BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange? BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not; it were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you; but believe me not; and yet I lye not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. BEATRICE Do not swear by it and eat it. BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest I love thee. BEATRICE Why then God forgive me. �BENEDICK What offence, sweet Beatrice? BEATRICE You have stay'd me in a happy hour; I was about to protest I lov'd you. BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. BENEDICK Come, bid me do any thing for thee. BEATRICE Kill Claudio. BENEDICK Ha! not for the wide world. BEATRICE You kill me to deny; farewel. BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. BEATRICE I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love in you; nay, I pray you let me go. BENEDICK Beatrice. BEATRICE In faith, I will go. BENEDICK We'll be friends first, [539] BEATRICE You dare earlier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy. BENEDICK �Is Claudio thine enemy? BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my kinswoman! O that I were a man! what, bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with publick accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated rancour-- O God that I were a man, I would eat his heart in the market-place. BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice. BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window? — a proper saying! BEATRICE Nay but Beatrice. BEATRICE Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone. BENEDICK But-BEATRICE Princes and Counts! surely a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man for his fake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! but manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it; I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice; by this hand I love thee. BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. BENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero? BEATRICE �Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. BENEDICK Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so leave you; by this hand, Claudio shall [Z z z] [540] render me dear account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your cousin, I must say she is dead, and so farewel. [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. [Enter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the Town-Clerk and Sexton in Gowns.] TOWN-CLERK Is our whole dissembly appear'd? DOGBERRY O, a stool and cushion for the Sexton! SEXTON Which be the malefactors? VERGES Marry, that am I and my partner. DOGBERRY Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine. SEXTON But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master constable. TOWN-CLERK Yea marry, let them come before me; what is your name, friend? BORACHIO Borachio. TOWN-CLERK Pray write down, Borachio. Yours Sirrah? �CONRADE I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade. TOWN-CLERK Write down master gentleman Conrade; masters, do you serve God? masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly; how answer you for your selves? CONRADE Marry, Sir, we say we are none. TOWN-CLERK A marvellous witty fellow I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah, a word in your ear, Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves. BORACHIO Sir, I say to you, we are none. TOWN-CLERK Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a tale; have you writ down that they are none? SEXTON Master town-clerk, you go not the way to examine, you must call the watch that are their accusers. [541] TOWN-CLERK Yea marry, that's the earliest: way, let the watch come forth; masters, I charge you in the prince's name accuse these men. [Enter Watchmen.] 1 WATCH This man said, Sir, that Don John the prince's brother was a villain. TOWN-CLERK Write down, prince John a villain; why this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain. BORACHIO Master town-clerk. TOWN-CLERK �Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy look, I promise thee. SEXTON What heard you him say else? 2 WATCH Marry, that he had receiv'd a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully. TOWN-CLERK Flat burglary as ever was committed. DOGBERRY Yea by th' mass that it is. SEXTON What else, fellow? 1 WATCH And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. TOWN-CLERK O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for this. SEXTON What else? 2 WATCH This is all. SEXTON And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stoll'n away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master constable, let these men be bound and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their examination. DOGBERRY Come, let them be opinion'd. SEXTON Let them be in the hands of Coxcomb. [Exit.] �DOGBERRY God's my life, where's the Sexton? let him write down the Prince's officer Coxcomb: come, bind them, thou naughty varlet. [542] CONRADE Away, you are an ass, you are an ass. DOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! but masters, remember that I am an ass, though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass; no, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness; I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer; and which is more, an househoulder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to, and a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him; bring him away; O that I had been writ down an ass! [Exeunt.] ACT V. SCENE 1. [Before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio.] ANTONIO If you go on thus, you will kill your self, And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief, Against your self. LEONATO I pray thee cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve; give not me counsel, Nor let no comfort else delight mine ear, But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine. Bring me a father that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, And bid him speak of patience; [543] Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain: �As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape and form; If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And hallow, wag, cry hem, when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man; for brother, men Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ach with air, and agony with words. No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no counsel, My griefs cry louder than advertisement. ANTONIO Therein do men from children nothing differ. LEONATO I pray thee peace; I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ach patiently; However they have writ the stile of Gods, And made a pish at chance and sufferance. ANTONIO Yet bend not all the harm upon your self. Make those that do offend you suffer too. LEONATO There thou speak'st reason, nay I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is bely'd, [544] And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. SCENE II. [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.] ANTONIO �Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. PEDRO Good den, good den. CLAUDIO Good day to both of you. LEONATO Hear you, my lords? PEDRO We have some haste, Leonato. LEONATO Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord. Are you so hasty now? well, all is one. PEDRO Nay do not quarrel with us, good old man. ANTONIO If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lye low. CLAUDIO Who wrongs him? LEONATO Marry thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler thou. Nay never lay thy hand upon thy sword, I fear thee not. CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear; In faith my hand meant nothing to my sword. LEONATO Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me; I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As under privilege of age to brag What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old: know Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent child and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by, And with grey hairs and bruise of many days Do challenge thee to tryal of a man; I say, thou hast bely'd my innocent child, �[545] Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lyes bury'd with her ancestors, O in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany! CLAUDIO My villany? LEONATO Thine Claudio, thine I say. PEDRO You say not right, old man. LEONATO My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body if he dare; Despight his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth and bloom of lustyhood. CLAUDIO Away, I will not have to do with you. LEONATO Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kill'd my child; If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. ANTONIO He shall kill two of us, and men indeed; But that's no matter, let him kill one first; Win me and wear me, let him answer me; Come, follow me, boy, come, boy, follow me, Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. LEONATO Brother. ANTONIO Content your self; God knows I lov'd my neice. And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man indeed, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! LEONATO �Brother Anthony. ANTONIO Hold you content; what, man? I know them, yea And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple: Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mongring boys, [A a a a] [546] That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, Go antickly, and show an outward hideousness, And speak of half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies if they durst; And this is all. LEONATO But brother Anthony. ANTONIO Come, 'tis no matter, Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. PEDRO Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; But on my honour she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. LEONATO My lord, my lord PEDRO I will not hear you. LEONATO No! come brother away, I will be heard. ANTONIO And shall, or some of us will smart for it. [Exe. ambo.] SCENE III. [Enter Benedick.] PEDRO �See, fee, here comes the man we went to seek. CLAUDIO Now Signior, what news? BENEDICK Good day, my lord. PEDRO Welcome Signior; you are almost come to part almost a fray. CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth. PEDRO Leonato and his brother; what think'st thou? had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I came to seek you both. [547] CLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are high proof melancholly, and would fain have it beaten away: wilt thou use thy wit? BENEDICK It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it? PEDRO Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? CLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw to pleasure us. PEDRO As I am an honest man he looks pale: art thou sick or angry? CLAUDIO What! courage man: what tho' care kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. �BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if you charge it against me. I pray you chuse another subject. CLAUDIO Nay, then give him another staff, this last was broke cross. PEDRO By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed. CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear? CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge! BENEDICK You are a you dare, right, or lady, and you. villain; I jest not. I will make it good how with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me I will protest your cowardice. You have kill'd a sweet her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from CLAUDIO Well I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. PEDRO What, a feast? CLAUDIO I'faith I thank him, he hath bid me to a calves-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? [A a a a 2] [548] BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily. PEDRO I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other �day: I said thou hadst a fine wit; right, says she, a fine little one; no, said I, a great wit; just, said she, a great gross one; nay said I, a good wit; just, said she, it hurts no body; nay said I, the gentleman is wise; certain, said she, a wise gentleman; nay said I, he hath the tongues; that I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two tongues. Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular virtues, yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily, and said she car'd not. PEDRO Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly; the old man's daughter told us all. CLAUDIO All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden. PEDRO But when shall we set the salvage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head? CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the married man. BENEDICK Fare you well, boy, you know my mind, I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggards do their blades, which God be thank'd hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you; I must discontinue your company; your brother the bastard is fled from Messina; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my lord lack-beard there, he and I shall meet, and 'till then peace be with him. [Exit Benedick.] PEDRO He is in earnest. [549] CLAUDIO In most profound earnest, and I'll warrant you for the �love of Beatrice. PEDRO And hath challeng'd thee? CLAUDIO Most sincerely. PEDRO What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit. SCENE IV. [Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded.] CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape, but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. PEDRO But soft you, let me see, pluck up my heart and be sad, did he not say my brother was fled? DOGBERRY Come you, Sir, if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, if you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. PEDRO How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one! CLAUDIO Hearken after their offence, my lord. PEDRO Officers, what offence have these men done? DOGBERRY Marry, Sir, they have committed false report, moreover they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have bely'd a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves. PEDRO First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and to conclude, what you lay to their charge? �CLAUDIO Rightly reason'd, and in his own division; and by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. [550] PEDRO Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence? BORACHIO Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine answer; do you hear me, and let this Count kill me: I have deceiv'd even your very eyes; what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incens'd me to slander the lady Hero, how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should marry her; my villany they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my shame; the Lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation; and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. PEDRO Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? CLAUDIO I have drunk poison while he utter'd it. PEDRO But did my brother set thee on to this? BORACHIO Yea, paid me richly for the practice of it. PEDRO He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery, And fled he is upon this villany. CLAUDIO Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. DOGBERRY Come bring away the plaintiffs, by this time our fexton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the matter; and masters, �do not forget to specifie, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. VERGES Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. [551] SCENE V. [Enter Leonato.] LEONATO Which is the villain? let me see his eyes, That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him; which of these is he? BORACHIO If you would know your wronger, look on me. LEONATO Art thou, art thou the slave that with thy breath Hast killed mine innocent child? BORACHIO Yea, even I alone. LEONATO No, not so villain, thou bely'st thy self; Here stand a pair of honourable men, A third is fled that had a hand in it: I thank you princes for my daughter's death; Record it with your high and worthy deeds, 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. CLAUDIO I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speak: chuse your revenge your self, Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking. PEDRO By my soul nor I; And yet to satisfie this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he'll enjoyn me to. �LEONATO You cannot bid my daughter live again, That were impossible; but I pray you both Possess the People in Messina here How innocent she dy'd; and if your love [552] Can labour ought in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night: To-morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter Almost the copy of my child that's dead, And she alone is heir to both of us, Give her the right you should have given her cousin, And so dies my revenge. CLAUDIO O noble Sir! Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me: I do embrace your offer, and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. LEONATO To-morrow then I will expecet your coming, To-night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother. BORACHIO No by my soul she was not; Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me. But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her. DOGBERRY Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass; I beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment; and also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you examine him upon that point. [553] �LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. DOGBERRY Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. LEONATO There's for thy pains. DOGBERRY God save the foundation. LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner; and I thank thee. DOGBERRY I leave an errant knave with your worship, which I beseech your worship to correct your self, for the others. God keep your worship; I with your worship God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave and if a merry meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit neighbour. example of well: to depart; it. Come [Exeunt.] LEONATO Until to-morrow morning, Lords farewel. ANTONIO Farewel my Lords, we look for you to-morrow. PEDRO We will not fail. CLAUDIO To-night I'll mourn with Hero. LEONATO Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt.] SCENE VI. [Leonato's House. Enter Benedick and Margaret.] �BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? [B b b b] [554] BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for in most comely truth thou deservest it. MARGARET To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs? BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. BENEDICK A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so I pray thee call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers. MARGARET Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own. BENEDICK If you use them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. [Exit Margaret.] BENEDICK And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of love that �fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why they were never so truly turn'd over and over, as my poor self in love; marry I cannot shew it in rhime; I have try'd, I can find out no rhime to lady but bady, an innocents rhime; for scorn, horn, a hard rhime; for school, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms. [555] SCENE VII. [Enter Beatrice.] Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee? BEATRICE Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O stay but 'till then. BEATRICE Then is spoken; fare you well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath past between you and Claudio. BENEDICK Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. BEATRICE Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. BENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of its right sense, so forcible is thy wit; but I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him or I will subscribe him a coward; and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? BEATRICE For them all together, which maintained so politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you �first suffer love for me? BENEDICK Suffer love! a good epithet; I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will. BEATRICE In spight of your heart, I think; alas poor heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates. BENEDICK Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. BEATRICE It appears not in this confession; there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. [B b b b 2] [556] BENEDICK An old, an old instance, time of good neighbours; own tomb ere he dies, he than the bells ring, and Beatrice, that liv'd in the if a man do not erect in this age his shall live no longer in monuments, the widow weeps. BEATRICE And how long is that, think you? BENEDICK Question? why an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to my self; so much for praising my self; who I my self will bear witness is praise-worthy; and now tell me how doth your cousin? BEATRICE Very ill. BENEDICK And how do you? BEATRICE Very ill too. [Enter Ursula.] �BENEDICK Serve God, love me and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. URSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd, the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently? BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, Signior? BENEDICK I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt.] [557] SCENE VIII. [A church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers.] CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato? ATTENDANTS It is, my lord. EPITAPH. Done to death by slanderous tongues, Was the Hero that here lyes: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life that dy'd with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. CLAUDIO Now musick sound, and sing your solemn hymn. SONG. �Pardon, Goddess of the night, Those that slew the virgin knight; For the which with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight assist our moan, Help us to sigh and groan. Heavily, heavily. [558] Graves yawn and yield your dead, 'Till death be uttered, Heavenly, heavenly. CLAUDIO Now unto thy bones good night; Yearly will I do this rite. PEDRO Good morrow masters, put your torches out, The wolves have prey'd; and look the gentle day Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. CLAUDIO Good morrow masters; each his several way. PEDRO Come let us hence, and put on other weeds, And then to Leonato's we will go. CLAUDIO And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds Than this, for whom we rendered up this woe. [Exeunt.] SCENE IX. [Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.] FRIAR Did I not tell you she was innocent? LEONATO So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her, �Upon the error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some fault for this; Although against her will as it appears, In the true course of all the question. [559] ANTONIO Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. BENEDICK And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. LEONATO Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by your selves, And when I send for you come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit me; you know your office brother, You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies.] ANTONIO Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. BENEDICK Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think. FRIAR To do what, Signior? BENEDICK To bind me or undo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior, Your neice regards me with an eye of favour. ANTONIO That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true. BENEDICK And I do with an eye of love requite her. LEONATO The fight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will? �BENEDICK Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical; But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd I'th'state of honourable marriage, In which, good Friar, I shall desire your help. LEONATO My heart is with your liking. FRIAR And my help. SCENE X. [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with Attendants.] PEDRO Good morrow to this fair assembly. [560] LEONATO Good morrow, Prince, good morrow Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? CLAUDIO I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. LEONATO Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready. PEDRO Good morrow, Benedick; why what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? CLAUDIO I think he thinks upon the savage bull: Tush, fear not man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. BENEDICK Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat, �Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. SCENE XI. [Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula.] CLAUDIO For this I owe you; here come other recknings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? LEONATO This same is she, and I do give you her. CLAUDIO Why then she's mine; sweet, let me see your face. LEONATO No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand Before this Friar, and swear to marry her. CLAUDIO Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband if you like of me. HERO And when I liv'd I was your other wife. [Unmasking.] And when you lov'd you were my other husband. [561] CLAUDIO Another Hero? HERO Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd, but I do live; And surely as I live I am a maid. PEDRO The former Hero! Hero that is dead! LEONATO She dy'd my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. FRIAR All this amazement can I qualifie. When after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death: Mean time let wonder seem familiar, �And to the chappel let us presently. BENEDICK Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? BEATRICE I answer to that name, what is your will? BENEDICK Do not you love me? BEATRICE Why, no; no more than reason. BENEDICK Why then your uncle and the prince, and Claudio have been deceiv'd, they swore you did. BEATRICE Do not you love me? BENEDICK Troth no, no more than reason. BEATRICE Why, then my cousin, Margaret and Ursula Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. BENEDICK They swore you were almost sick for me. BEATRICE They swore you were well-nigh dead for me. BENEDICK 'Tis no matter, then you do not love me? BEATRICE No truly, but in friendly recompence. LEONATO Come cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. CLAUDIO And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her, For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. �HERO And here's another, [C c c] [562] Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. BENEDICK A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity. BEATRICE I would not deny you, but by this good day I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life; for as I was told, you were in a consumption. LEONATO Peace, I will stop your mouth. PEDRO How dost thou, Benedick the married man? BENEDICK I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of witt-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost thou think I care for a satyr, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin. CLAUDIO I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of question thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. BENEDICK Come, come, we are friends; let's have a dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels. �LEONATO We'll have dancing afterwards. BENEDICK First, o' my word; therefore play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. [563] [Enter Messenger.] MESSENGER My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. BENEDICK Think not on him 'till to-morrow, I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up pipers. [Dance.] [Exeunt omnes.] � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Pope, 1725) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Alexander Pope Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található, Alexander Pope által szerkesztett szövegváltozat gondozott átirata Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksofshakespea01shak_4/page/476 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1725 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Alexander Pope (szekesztő) Cseh Julianna (digitális átirat gondozása) Vidra Bernadett (digitális átirat gondozása) Mányi Krisztián (digitális átirat gondozása) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv pdf Language A language of the resource Angol Type The nature or genre of the resource komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Digitális szöveg Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. The works of Shakespeare in six volumes, Collated and corrected by the formwer editions, by Mr. Pope, Vol. I, London: Printed for Jacob Tonson in the Strand, 1725. pp. 477-563. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Alexander Pope Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title The works of Shakespeare in six volumes Date 1725 First Page 477 Genre komédia Language angol Medium könyv Num Pages 88 Number of Volumes 1 Pages 477-563 Place London Publisher Jacob Tonson Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Title Much Ado About Nothing Volume 1 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/2bfca0055ef8221213d6c065b7b2357b.pdf 3872b9eec4fd548f50768ffe2dc89c38 PDF Text Text Much Ado About Nothing Szerkesztette: Nicholas Rowe ACT I. SCENE I. Enter Leonato, Innogen, Hero and Beatrice, with A Messenger. Leonato. I Learn in this Letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon, comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three Leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many Gentlemen have you lost in this Action? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of Name. Leon. A Victory is twice itself, when the Atchiever brings home full number; I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much Honour on a young Florentine, call'd Claudio. Mess. Much deserv'd on his Part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro, he hath born himself beyond the Promise of his Age, doing in the Figure of a Lamb; the Feats of a Lion, he hath indeed better better'd Expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. Leon. He hath an Uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess. I have already delivered him Letters, and there appears much Joy in him, even so much, that joy could not shew it self modest enough, without a Badge of Bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into Tears? Mess. In great measure. �Y2 324 Leon. A kind overflow of Kindness; there are no Faces truer, than those that are so wash'd; how much better is it to weep at Joy, than to joy at Weeping? Beatrice. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the Wars, or no? Mess. I know none of that Name, Lady, there was none such in the Army of any sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, Neice? Hero. My Cousin means Signior Benedick, of Padua. Mess. O he is return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. Beat. He set up his Bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at the flight; and my Uncle's Fool reading the Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these Wars? But how many hath he kill'd? for indeed I promise to eat all of his killing. Leom. 'Faith, Neice, you tax Signior Benedick too much, but he'll meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good Service, Lady, in those Wars. Beat. You had musty Victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant Trencher-man, he hath an excellent Stomach. Mess. And a good Soldier too, Lady. Beat. �And a good Soldier to a Lady: But what is he to a Lord? Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a Man to a Man, stuft with all honourable Virtues. Beat. It is so indeed, he is no less than a stuft Man: but for the stuffing well; we are all Mortal. Leon. You must not, Sir, mistake my Neice; there is a kind of merry War betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there is a Skirmish of Wit between them. Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last Conflict four of his five Wits went halting off, and now is the whole Man governed with one: So that if he have Wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his Horse. For it is all the Wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable Creature. Who is his Companion now? He hath every Month a new sworn Brother. Mess. Is it possible? Beat. Very easily possible; he wears his Faith but as the fashion of his Hat, it ever changes with the next Block. 325 Mess. I see, Lady, the Gentleman is not in your Book. Beat. No, and he were, I would burn my Study. But I pray you who is his Companion? Is there no young Squarer now, that will make a Voyage with him to the Devil? Mess. He is most in the Company of the right noble Claudio. Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a Disease; he is sooner caught than the Pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught �the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand Pound e'er it be cur'd. Mess. I will hold Friends with you, Lady. Beat. Do good Friend. Leon. You'll ne'er run mad, Neice. Beat. No, not 'till a hot January. Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and Don John. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: The fashion of the World is to avoid Cost, and you encounter it. Leon. Never came Trouble to my House in the likeness of your Grace; for, Trouble being gone, Comfort should remain: But when you depart from me, Sorrow abides, and Happiness takes his Leave. Pedro. You embrace your Charge most willingly: I think this is your Daughter. Leon. Her Mother hath many times told me so. Bene. Were you in doubt, that you askt her? Leon. Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a Child. Pedro. You have it full Benedick, we may guess by this what you are, being a Man, truly the Lady /Fathers her self; be happy, Lady, for you are like an honourable Father. �Bene. If Signior Leonato be her Father, she would not have his Head on her Shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick, no Body marks you. Bene. What my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? Y3 326 Beat. Is it possible Disdain should die, while she hath such meet Food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesie it self must convert to Disdain, if you come in her Presence. Bene. Then is Courtesie a Turn-coat, but it is certain I am lov'd of all Ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my Heart that I had not an hard Heart, for truly I love none. Beat. A dear Happiness to Women, they would else have been troubled with a pernicious Sutor. I thank God and my cold Blood, I am of your Humour for that; I had rather hear my Dog bark at a Crow, than a Man swear he loves me. Bene. God keep your Ladiship still in that Mind, for some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht Face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a Face as yours were. Bene. Well you are a rare Parrat Teacher. Beat. A Bird of my Tongue, is better than a Beast of yours. �Bene. I would my Horse had the speed of your Tongue, and so good a Continuer; but keep your way a God's Name, I have done. Beat. You always end with a Jade's Trick, I know you of old. Pedro. This is the sum of all: Leonato, Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick; my dear Friend Leonato hath invited you all, I tell you we shall stay here at the least a Month and he heartily prays some Occupation may detain us longer; I dare swear he is no Hypocrite, but prays from his Heart. Leon. If you swear, my Lord, you shall not be forsworn; let me bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled to the Prince your Brother; I owe you all Duty. John. I thank you, I am not of many Words, but I thank you. Leon. Please it your Grace lead on? Pedro. Your Hand Leonato, we will go together. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio.] Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the Daughter of Signior Leonato. Bene. I noted her not, but I look'd on her. Claud. Is she not a modest young Lady? 327 Bene. Do you question me as an honest Man should do for my simple true Judgment? Or would you have me speak �after my Custom, as being a professed Tyrant to their Sex? Claud. No, I prithee speak in sober Judgement. Bene. Why i'faith methinks she's too low for an high Praise, too brown for a fair Praise, and too little for a great Praise; only this Commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. Claud. Thou thinkst I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her. Bene. Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? Claud. Can the World buy such a Jewel? Bene. Yea, and a Case to put it into; but speak you this with a sad Brow, or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare Carpenter? Come, in what Key shall a Man take you to go in the Song? Claud. In mine Eye, she is the sweetest Lady that ever I lookt on. Bene. I can see yet without Spectacles, and I see no such Matter: There's her Cousin, an she were not possest with a Fury, exceeds her as much in Beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: But I hope you have no intent to turn Husband, have you? Claud. I would scarce trust my self, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my Wife. Bene. Is't come to this? In Faith hath not the World one Man, but he will wear his Cap with Suspicion? Shall I never see a Batchelor of threescore again? Go to i'Faith, and thou wilt needs thrust thy Neck into a Yoke, wear the print of �it, and sigh away Sundays: Look, Don Pedro is return'd to seek you. Enter Don Pedro and Don John. Pedro. What Secret hath held you here, that you follow'd not to Leonato? Bene. I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. Pedro. I charge thee on thy Allegiance. Bene. You hear, Count Claudio, I cannot be secret as a dumb Man, I would have you think so (but on my Allegiance mark you this, on my Allegiance) he is in love with Y4 328 whom? Now that is your Grace's part: mark how short his Answer is, Hero, Leonato's short Daughter. Claud. If this were so, so it were uttered. Bene. Like the old Tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so; but indeed, God forbid it should be so. Claud. If my Passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. Pedro. Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy. Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord. Pedro. By my Troth I speak my Thought. Claud. And in Faith, my Lord, I spoke mine. �Bene. And by my two Faiths and Troths, my Lord, I speak mine. Claud. That I love her, I feel. Pedro. That she is worthy I know. Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the Opinion that Fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at the Stake. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate Heretick in the despight of Beauty. Claud. And never could maintain his Part, but in the force of his Will. Bene. That a Woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble Thanks: But that I will have a Rechate winded in my Forehead, or hang my Bugle in an invisible Baldrick, all Women shall pardon me; because I will not do them the Wrong to mistrust any, I will do my self the right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a Batchelor. Pedro. I shall see thee e'er I die, look pale with Love. Bene. With Anger, with Sickness, or with Hunger, my Lord, not with Love: Prove that I lose more Blood with Love, than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine Eyes with a Ballet-maker's Pen, and hang me up at the Door of a Brothel house for the Sign of blind Cupid. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this Faith, thou wilt prove a notable Argument. Bene. If I do, hang me in a Bottle like a Cat, and shoot �at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the Shoulder and called Adam. 329 Pedro. Well, as time shall try; in time the savage Bull doth bear the Yoke. Bene. The savage Bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the Bull's-horns, and set them in my Forehead, and let me be vildly painted, and in such great Letters as they write Here is a good Horse to hire; let them signifie under my Sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd Man. Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be Horn mad. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his Quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. Bene. I look for an Earthquake too then. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the Hours in the mean time, good Signior Benedict, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at Supper, for indeed he hath made great Preparation. Bene. I have almost Matter enough in me for such an Embassage, and so I commit you. Claud. To the Tuition of God. From my House if I hid it. Pedro. The sixth of July. Your loving Friend, Benedick. Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your Discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the Guards are but slightly basted on neither: E'er you flout old Ends �any further, examine your Conscience, and so I leave you. [Exit.] Claud. My Liege, your Highness now may do me good. Pedro. My Love is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard Lesson, that may do thee good. Claud. Hath Leonato any Son, my Lord? Pedro. No Child but Hero, she's his only Heir: Dost thou affect her, Claudio? Claud. O my Lord, When you went onward on this ended Action, I look'd upon her with a Soldier's Eye, That lik'd, but had a rougher Task in hand. Than to drive liking to the Name of Love; But now I am return'd, and that War-thoughts Have left their places vacant; in their rooms 330 Come thronged soft and delicate Desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is, Saying I lik'd her e'er I went to Wars. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a Lover presently. And tire the Hearer with a Book of Words: If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, And I will break with her; was't not to this end. That thou begin'st to twist so fine a Story? Claud. How sweetly do you minister to Love, That know Love's Grief by his Complexion. But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salv'd it with a longer Treatise. Pedro. What need the Bridge much broader that the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity; Look what will serve, is fit; 'tis once, thou lovest. �And I will fit thee with the Remedy. I know we shall have revelling to Night, I will assume thy part in some Disguise, And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, And in her Bosom I unclasp my Heart, And take her hearing Prisoner with a force And strong encounter of my amorous Tale: Then after, to her Father will I break, And the Conclusion is, she shall be thine; In practise let us put it presently. [Exeunt.] Enter Leonato and Antonio. Leon. How now Brother, where is my Cousin your Son: Hath he provided this Musick? Ant. He is very busie about it; but Brother, I can tell you News that you yet dream'd not of. Leon. Are they good? Ant. As the Event stamps them, but they have a good pover; they show well outward: The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick pleached Alley in my Orchard, were thus over-heard by a Man of mine: The Prince discover'd to Clandio that he lov'd my Neice your Daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this Night in a Dance; and if he found her Accordant, meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it. Leon. Hath the Fellow any wit, that told you this? Ant. A good sharp Fellow, I will send for him and question him your self. 331 Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a Dream, 'till it appear it self: But I will acquaint my Daughter with all, that she may be the better prepared for answer, if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of it: Cousins, you know what you have to do. Oh I cry you mercy Friend, go you �with me and I will use your Skill, good Cousin have a Care this busie time. [Exeunt.] Conr. What the good Year my Lord, why are you thus out of Measure sad? John. There is no measure in the Occasion that breeds, therefore the Sadness is without limit. Conr. You should hear Reason. John. And when I have heard it, what Blessing bringeth it? Conr. If not a present Remedy, yet a patient Sufferance. John. I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a mortal Medicine to a mortifying Mischief: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have Cause, and smile at no Man's Jest, eat when I have Stomach, and wait for no Man's Leisure; sleep when I am drowsie, and tend on no Man's Business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no Man in his humour. Conr. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this 'till you may do it without Controlment; you have of late stood out against your Brother, and he hath tane you newly into his Grace, where it is impossible you should take Root, but by the fair Weather that you make your self; it is needful that you frame the Season for your own Harvest. John. I had rather be a Canker in a Hedge, than a Rose in his Grace, and it better fits my Blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a Carriage to rob Love from any: In this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest Man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing Villain, I am trusted with a Muzzel, and infranchised with a Clog, therefore I have decreed not to sing in my Cage: If I had my Mouth, I would bite; if I had my Liberty, I would do my liking: In the mean time, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. �Conr. Can you make no use of your Discontent? 332 John. I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? what News, Borachio? Bora. I came yonder from a great Supper; the Prince, your Brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you Intelligence of an intended Marriage. John. Will it serve for any Model to build Mischief on? What is he for a Fool that betroths himself to Unquietness? Bora. Marry it is your Brother's right Hand. John. Who, the most exquisite Clandio? Bora. Even he. John. A proper Squire; and who, and who, which way looks he? Bora. Marry on Hero, the Daughter and Heir of Leonato. John. A very forward March-chick, how come you to this? Bora. Being entertained for a Perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty Room, comes me the Prince and Claudio, Hand in Hand in sad Conference: I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed upon that the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give her to Count Claudio. John. Come, come, let us thither, this may prove Food �to my Displeasure, that young Start-up hath all the Glory of my Overthrow: If I can cross him any way, I bless my self every way; you are both sure, and will assist me? Conr. To the Death, my Lord. John. Let us to the great Supper, their Cheer is the greater that I subdu'd, would the Cook were of my Mind: Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your Lordship. [Exeunt.] A C T II. S C E N E I. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Innogen, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret and Ursula. Leon. Was not Count John here at Supper? Ant. I saw him not. Beat. How tartly that Gentleman looks; I never can see him, but I am Heart-burn'd an Hour after. 333 Hero. He is of a melancholy Disposition. Beat. He were an excellent Man that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedict; the one is too like an Image, and says nothing; and the other too like my Lady's eldest Son, evermore tatling. Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's Tongue in Count John's Mouth, and half Count John's Melancholy in Signior Benedick's Face. Beat. �With a good Leg, and a good Foot, Uncle, and Mony enough in his Purse, such a Man would win any Woman in the World, if he could get her good Will. Leon. By my troth, Neice, thou wilt never get thee a Husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy Tongue. Ant. In Faith she's too curst. Beat. Too curst is more than curst, I shall lessen God's sending that Way; for it is said, God sends a curst Cow short Horns, but to a Cow too curst he sends none. Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send no Horns. Beat. Just, if he send me no Husband, for the which Blessing, I am at him upon my Knees every Morning and Evening: Lord, I could not endure a Husband with a Beard on his Face, I had rather lye in Woollen. Leon. You may light upon a Husband that hath no Beard. Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my Apparel, and make him my Waiting-Gentlewoman? He that hath a Beard is more than a Youth, and he that hath no Beard is less than a Man; and he that is more than a Youth, is not for me; and he that is less than a Man, I am not for him: Therefore, I will even take six Pence in earnest of the Bearherd, and lead his Apes into Hell. Leon. Well then, go you into Hell. Beat. No, but to the Gate, and there will the Devil meet me like an old Cuckold, with his Horns on his Head, and say, get you to Heav'n, Beatrice, get you to Heav'n, here's no Place for you Maids; so deliver I up my Apes, and away to St. Peter; for the Heav'ns, he shews me where the Batchelors sit, and there live we as merry as the Day is long. �Ant. Well Neice, I trust you will be rul'd by your Father. [To Hero. Beat. Yes, Faith, it is my Cousin's Duty to make Curt334 sie, and say, as it please you; but yet for all that Cousin, let him be a handsome Fellow, or else make another Curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases me. Leon. Well, Neice, I hope to see you one Day fitted with a Husband. Beat. Not 'till God make Men of some other Mettal than Earth; wou'd it not grieve a Woman to be over-master'd with a Piece of valiant Dust? to make account of her Life to a Clod of wayward Marle? No, Uncle, I'll none; Adam's Sons are Brethren, and truly I hold it a Sin to match in my Kindred. Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you; if the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your Answer. Beat. The Fault will be in the Musick, Cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; if the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the Answer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch Jig, a Measure, and a Cinquepace; The first Suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch Jig, (and full as fantastical) the Wedding mannerly modest, (as a Measure) full of State and Anchentry; and then comes Repentance, and with his bad Legs falls into the Cinquepace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into the Grave. Leon. Cousin you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good Eye, Uncle, I can see a Church by Day Light. Leon. �The Revellers are entring, Brother; make good room. [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade] Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your Friend? Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the Walk, and especially when I walk away. Pedro. With me in your Company. Hero. I may say so when I please. Pedro. And when will you please to say so? Hero. When I like your Favour; for God defend the Lute should be like the Case. Pedro. My Visor is Philemon's Roof, within the House is Love. 335 Hero. Why then your Visor should be thatch'd. Pedro. Speak low if you speak Love. Bene. Well, I would you did like me. Marg. So would not I for your own Sake, for I have many ill Qualities. Bene. Which is one? �Marg. I say my Prayers aloud. Bene. I love you the better, the Hearers may cry, Amen. Marg. God match me with a good Dancer. Balth. Amen. Marg. And God keep him out of my Sight when the Dance is done: Answer Clerk. Balth. No more Words, the Clerk is answer'd. Ursu. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio. Anth. At a Word, I am not. Ursu. I know you by the wagling of your Head. Anth. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Ursu. You could never do him so ill Will, unless you were the very Man: Here's his dry Hand up and down, you are he, you are he. Anth. At a Word, I am not. Ursu. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent Wit? Can Virtue hide it self? Go to, mum, you are he, Graces will appear, and there's an end. Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? Bene. �No, you shall pardon me. Beat. Nor will you tell me who you are? Bene. Not now. Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good Wit out of the hundred merry Tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that said so. Bene. What's he? Beat. I am sure you know him well enough. Bene. Not I, believe me. Beat. Did he never make you laugh? Bene. I pray you what is he? Beat. Why, he is the Prince's Jester, a very dull Fool, only his Gift is, in devising impossible Slanders? none but Libertines delight in him, and the Condemnation is 336 not in his Wit, but in his Villany; for he both pleaseth Men, and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him; I am sure he is in this Fleet, I would he had boarded me. Bene. When I know the Gentleman, 1'11 tell him what you say. Beat. Do, do, he'll but break a Comparison or two on me, which peradventure (not mark'd, or not laugh'd at) strikes him into Melancholy, and then there's a Partridge Wing sav'd, for the Fool will eat no Supper that Night. We must follow the Leaders. �Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any Ill, I will leave them at the next Turning. [Exeunt.] [Musick for the Dance.] John. Sure my Brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her Father to break with him about it: The Ladies follow her, and but one Visor remains. Bora. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing. John. Are not you Signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well, I am he. John. Signior, you are very near my Brother in his Love, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his Birth; you may do die Part of an honest Man in it. Claud. How know you he loves her? John. I heard him swear his Affection. Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to Night. John. Come let us to the Banquet. [Exeunt John and Bora. Claud. Thus answer I in Name of Benedick, But hear this ill News with the Ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so, the Prince woos for himself. �Friendship is constant in all other Things, Save in the Office and Affairs of Love; Therefore all Hearts in Love use their own Tongues, Let every Eye negotiate for it self, And trust no Agent; for Beauty is a Witch, Against whose Charms, Faith melteth into Blood; This is an Accident of hourly Proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewel therefore, Hero. 337 [Enter Benedick.] Bene. Count Claudio. Claud. Yea the same. Bene. Come, will you go with me? Claud. Whither? Bene. Even to the next Willow, about your own Business, Count. What Fashion will you wear the Garland of? About your Neck, like a Usurer's Chain? Or under your Arm, like a Lieutenant's Scarf? You must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. Claud. I wish him Joy of her. Bene. Why that's spoken like an honest Drovier, so they fell Bullocks; but did you think the Prince would have served you thus? Claud. I pray you leave me. Bene. No, no! you strike like the blind Man; 'twas the Boy that stole your Meat, and you'll beat the Post. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. �[Exit.] Bene. Alas poor hurt Soul, now will he creep into Sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me; the Prince's Fool! ha? it may be I go under that Title, because I am merry; yea but so I'am apt to do my self wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base (though bitter) Disposition of Beatrice, that puts the World into her Person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may. [Enter Den Pedro.] Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count? did you see him? Bene. Troth my Lord, I have play'd the Part of Lady Fame, I found him here as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren; I told him, and I think, told him true, that your Grace had got the Will of this young Lady, and I offered him my Company to a Willow Tree, either to make him a Garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him a Rod, as being worthy to be whipt. Pedro. To be whipt, what's his Fault? Bene. The flat Transgression of a School-Boy, who being over-joy'd with finding a Birds Nest, shews it his Companion, and he steals it. Z 338 Pedro. Wilt thou make a Trust, a Transgression! the Transgression is in the Stealer. Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the Rod had been made, and the Garland too; for the Garland he might have worn himself, and the Rod he might have bestowed on you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his Birds Nest. Pedro. �I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the Owner. Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my Faith you say honestly. Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a Quarrel to you, the Gentleman that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you. Bene. O she misus'd me past the Indurance of a Block; an Oak but with one green Leaf on it, would have answered her; my very Visor began to assume Life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been my self, that I was the Prince's Jester, and that I was duller than a great Thaw, hudling Jest upon Jest, with such impossible conveiance upon me, that I stood like a Man at a Mark, with a whole Army shooting at me; she speaks Poyniards, and every Word stabs me; if her Breath were as terrible as Terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the North Star; I would not marry her, though she were endow'd with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd, she would have made Hercules have turn'd Spit, yea, and have cleft his Club to make the Fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her the infernal Ate in good Apparel. I would to God some Scholar would conjure her, for certainly while she is here, a Man may live as quiet in Hell as in a Sanctuary, and People sin upon Purpose, because they would go thither, so indeed all Disquiet, Horror, and Perturbation follows her. [Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero.] Pedro. Look here she comes. Bene. Will your Grace command me any Service to the Worlds End? I will go on the slightest Errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a Tooth-Picker now from the furthest Inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prestor John's Foot; fetch you a Hair off the great Cham's Beard; do you any Em339 �bassage to the Pigmies, rather then hold three Words Conference with this Harpy; you have no Employment for me? Pedro. None, but to desire your good Company. Bene. O God, Sir, here's a Dish I love not, I cannot indure this Lady's Tongue. [Exit.] Pedro. Come Lady, come, you have lost the Heart of Signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed my Lord, he sent it me a while, and I gave him use for it, a double Heart for a single; one; Marry, once before he won it of me with false Dice, therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it. Pedro. You have put him down. Lady, you have put him down. Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prove the Mother of Fools: I have brought Count Claudio whom you sent me to seek. Pedro. Why, how now Count, wherefore are you sad? Claud. Not sad, my Lord. Pedro. How then? Sick? Claud. Neither, my Lord. Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil Count, civil as an Orange, and something of a jealous Complexion. Pedro. �I'faith Lady, I think your Blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his Conceit is false. Here Claudio, I have wooed in thy Name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her Father, and his good Will obtained, name the Day of Marriage, and God give thee Joy. Leon. Count, take of me my Daughter, and with her my Fortunes; his Grace hath made the Match, and all Grace say Amen to it. Beat. Speak Count, 'tis your Qu. Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herald of Joy; I were but little happy if I could say, how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give away my self for you, and doat upon the Exchange. Beat. Speak Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his Mouth with a Kiss, and let not him speak neither. Pedro. In faith Lady, you have a merry Heart. Beat. Yes my Lord, I thank it, poor Fool, it keeps Z2 340 on the windy side of Care; my Cousin tells him in his Ear that he is in my Heart. Claud. And so she doth, Cousin. Beat. Good Lord, for Alliance; thus goes every one to the World but I, and I am Sun-burn'd, I may sit in a Corner, and cry, heigh ho for a Husband. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. Beat. I would rather have one of your Father's getting; �hath your Grace ne'er a Brother like you; your Father got excellent Husbands, if a Maid could come by them. Pedro. Will you have me, Lady? Beat. No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working-Days, your Grace is too costly to wear every Day: But I beseech your Grace pardon me, I was born to speak all Mirth, and no Matter. Pedro. Your Silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you: for out of question you were born in a merry Hour. Beat. No sure my Lord, my Mother cry'd; but then there was a Star danced, and under that I was born. Cousins, God give you Joy. Leon. Neice, will you look to those things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy Uncle, by you Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice] Pedro. By my Troth a pleasant spirited Lady. Leon. There's little of the melancholy Element in her, my Lord, she is never sad, but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my Daughter say, she hath often dream'd of Unhappiness, and wak'd her self with laughing. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a Husband. Leon. O, by no Means, she mocks all her Wooers out of suit. Pedro. �She were an excellent Wife for Benedick. Leon. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a Week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to Church? Claud. To Morrow, my Lord, Time goes on Crutches, 'till Love have all his Rites? 341 Leon. Not 'till Monday, my dear Son, which is hence a just seven Night, and a time too brief to, to have all things answer my Mind. Pedro. Come, you shake the Head at so long a breadthing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules's Labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a Mountain of Affection, the one with the other; I would fain have it a Match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such Assistance as I shall give you Direction. Leon. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten Nights Watchings. Claud. And I my Lord. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero. Hero. I will do any modest Office, my Lord, to help my Cousin to a good Husband. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest Husband that I know: Thus far can I praise him, he is of a noble Strain, of approved Valour, and confirmed Honesty. I will teach you how to humour your Cousin, that she shall fall in love �with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, and in despite of his quick Wit, and his queasie Stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice: If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall be ours, for we are the only Love-gods; go with me, and I will tell you my Drift. [Exeunt.] [Enter Don John and Borachio.] John. It is so, the Count Claudio shall marry the Daughter of Leonato. Bora. Yea, my Lord, but I can cross it. John. Any Bar, any Cross, any Impediment, will be medicinable to me, I am sick in Displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his Affection, ranges evenly with mine; how canst thou cross this Marriage? Bora. Not honestly my Lord, but so covertly, that no dishonesty shall appear in me. John. Shew me briefly how. Bora. I think I told your Lordship a Year since, how much I am in the Favour of Margaret, the Waiting-Gentlewoman to Hero. Z3 342 John. I remember. Bora. I can, at my unseasonable instant of the Night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's Chamber Window. John. What Life is in that, to be the Death of this Marriage? �Bora. The Poison of that lyes in you to temper; go you to the Prince your Brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his Honour in marrying the renown'd Claudio, whose Estimation do you mightily hold up, to a contaminated Stale, such a one as Hero. John. What proof shall I make of that? Bora. Proof enough, to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you for any other Issue? John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. Bora. Go then find me a meet Hour, to draw on Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them that you know Hero loves me; intend a kind of Zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in a love of your Brother's Honour who hath made this Match, and his Friends Reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of a Maid, that you have discover'd thus; they will hardly believe this without Trial: Offer them Instances which shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her Chamber Window, hear me call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio, and bring them to see this, the very Night before the intended Wedding, for in the mean time I will fashion the Matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such seeming Truths of Hero's Disloyalty, that Jealousie shall be call'd Assurance, and all the Preparation overthrown. John. Grow this to what adverse Issue it can, I will put it in Practice: Be cunning in the working this, and thy Fee is a thousand Ducats. Bora. Be thou constant in the Accusation, and my Cunning shall not shame me. John. I will presently go learn their Day of Marriage. [Exeunt.} �[Enter Benedick and a Boy.] Bene. Boy. Boy. Signior. 343 Bene. In my Chamber Window lyes a Book, bring it hither to me in the Orchard. Boy. I am here already, Sir. [Exit Boy.] Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence, and here again. I do much wonder, that one Man seeing how much another Man is a Fool, when he dedicates his Behaviours to Love, will after he hath laught at such shallow Follies in others, become the Argument of his own Scorn, by falling in love! and such a Man is Claudio. I have known when there was no Musick with him but the Drum and the Fife, and now had he rather hear the Taber and the Pipe: I have known when he would have walk'd ten Mile a Foot, to see a good Armor; and now will he lye ten Nights awake, carving the Fashion of a new Doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the Purpose, like an honest Man and a Soldier, and now is he turn'd Orthography, his Words are a very fantastical Banquet, just so many strange Dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these Eyes? I cannot tell, I think not. I will not be sworn, but Love may transform me to an Oister, but I'll take my Oath on it, 'till he have made an Oister of me, he shall never make me such a Fool: One Woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well: But 'till all Graces be in one Woman, one Woman shall not come in my Grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; Wise, or I'll none; Virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; Fair, or I'll never look on her; Mild, or come not near me; Noble, or not for an Angel; of good Discourse, an excellent Musician, and her Hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur Love, I will hide me in the Arbor. �[Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio and Balthasar.] Pedro. Come, shall we hear this Musick? Claud. Yea, my good Lord ; how still the Evening is. As hush'd on purpose to grace Harmony. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? Claud. O very well my Lord; the Musick ended. We'll fit the Kid-fox with a penny-worth. Pedro. Come Balthazar, we'll hear that Song again. Balth. O good my Lord, tax not so bad a Voice, To slander Musick any more than once. Z4 344 Pedro. It is the witness still of Excellency, To put a strange Face on his own Perfection; I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more. Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing, Since many a Wooer doth commence his Suit, To her he thinks not worthy, yet he woo's, Yet will he swear he loves. Pedro. Nay, pray thee come, Or if thou wilt hold longer Argument, Do it in Notes. Balth. Note this before my Notes, There's not a Note of mine that's worth the noting. Pedro. Why these are very Crotchets that he speaks, Note Notes forsooth, and nothing. �Bene. Now divine Air, now is his Soul ravish't, is it not strange that Sheeps Guts should hale Souls out of Mens Bodies? Well, a Horn for my Mony, when all's done. The Song. Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more, Men were Deceivers ever, One Foot in Sea, and one on Shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blith and bonny, Converting all your sounds of Woe Into hey nony, nony. Sing no more Ditties, Sing no more; Of Dumps so dull and heavy. The Fraud of Men were ever so, Since Summer first was leavy: Then sigh not so, etc. Pedro. By my Troth a good Song. Balth. And an ill Singer, my Lord. Pedro. Ha, no, no Faith, thou sing'st well enough for a shift. Bene. And he had been a Dog that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him, and I pray God his bad Voice bode no Mischief; I had as lieve have heard the Night-raven, come what Plague could have come after it. 345 Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear Balthazar? I pray thee get some excellent Musick; for to Morrow Night we would have it at the Lady Hero's Chamber Window. Balth. The best I can, my Lord. �[Exit Balthatzar.] Pedro. Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me of to Day, that your Neice Beatrice was in Love with Signior Benedick. Claud. O ay, stalk on, stalk on, the Fowl fits. I did never think that Lady would have loved any Man. Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward Behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. Bene. Is't possible, fits the Wind in that Corner? Leon. By my Troth, my Lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an inraged Affection, it is past the infinite of Thought. Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit. Claud. Faith like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of Passion came so near the life of Passion as she discovers it. Pedro. Why, what Effects of Passion shews she? Claud. Bait the Hook well, the Fish will bite. Leon. What Effects, my Lord? she will fit you, you heard my Daughter tell you how. Claud. She did indeed. Pedro. �How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would have thought her Spirit had been invincible against all Assaults of Affection. Leon. I would have sworn it had, my Lord, especially against Benedick. Bene. I should think this a Gull, but that the whitebearded Fellow speaks it; Knavery cannot sure hide himself in such Reverence. Claud. He hath tane th' Infection, hold it up. Pedro. Hath she made her Affection known to Benedick? Leon. No, and swears she never will, that's her torment. Claud. 'Tis true indeed, so your Daughter says: Shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with Scorn, write to him I love him? 346 Leon. This says she, now when she is beginning to write to him, she'll be up twenty times a Night, and there will she sit in her Smock, 'till she have writ a Sheet of Paper; my Daughter tells us all. Claud. Now you talk of a Sheet of Paper, I remember a pretty Jest your Daughter told us of. Leon. O when she had writ it, and reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the Sheet. Claud. That. Leon. O she tore the Letter into a thousand Halfpence, rail'd at her self, that she should be so immodest, to write �to one that she knew would flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own Spirits I should flout him if he writ to me, yea though I love him, I should. Claud. Then down upon her Knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her Heart, tears her Hair, prays, curses; O sweet Benedick, God give me patience. Leon. She doth indeed, my Daughter says so, and the Extasie hath so much overborn her, that my Daughter is sometime afraid she will do a desperate Out-rage to her self, it is very true. Pedro. It were good that Benedick, knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor Lady worse. Pedro. And he should, it were an Alms to hang him; she's an excellent sweet Lady, and out of all Suspicion she is virtuous. Claud. And she is exceeding wise. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my Lord, Wisdom and Blood combating in so tender a Body, we have ten Proofs to one, that Blood hath the Victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just Cause, being her Uncle, and her Guardian. Pedro. I would she had bestow'd this Dotage upon me; I would have daft all other Respects and made her half my self; I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? �Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die, for she says she will die, if he love her not, and she will die e'er she 347 make her Love known, and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one Breath of her accustom'd Crossness. Pedro. She doth well, if she should make Tender of her Love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it, for the Man, as you know all, hath a contemptible Spirit. Claud. He is a very proper Man. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward Happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and in my Mind very wise. Pedro. He doth indeed shew some Sparks that are like Wit. Leon. And I take him to be valiant. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of Quarrels you may see he is wise, for either he avoids them with great Discretion, or undertakes them with a Christianlike Fear. Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep Peace; if he break the Peace, he ought to enter into a Quarrel with fear and trembling. Pedro. And so will he do, for howsoever it seems not make; well, I am sorry Benedick, and tell him Claud. the Man doth fear God, in him, by some large Jests he will for your Niece, shall we go see of her Love? �Never tell him, my Lord, let her wait it out with good Counsel. Leon. Nay, that's impossible, she may wear her Heart out first. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your Daughter, let it cool the while; I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to shew how much he is unworthy to have so good a Lady. Leon. My Lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my Expectation. Pedro. Let there be the same Net spread for her, and that must your Daughter and her Gentlewoman carry; the sport will be, when they hold one an Opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I would see which will be meerly a dumb shew ; let us send her to call him to Dinner. [Exeunt.] 348 Bene. This can be no Trick, the Conference was sadly born; they have the Truth of this from Hero, they seem to pity the Lady; it seems her Affections have the full Bent. Love me! why it must be requited: I' hear how I am censur'd; they say I will bear my self proudly, if I perceive the Love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any Sign of Affection— I did never think to marry — I must not seem proud — happy are they that hear their Detractions, and can put them to mending: They say the Lady is fair, 'tis a truth, I can bear them Witness; and virtuous, 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me— by my Troth it is no Addition to her Wit, nor no great Argument of her Folly; for I will be horribly in love with her,— I may chance to have some odd quirks and remains of Wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against Marriage; but doth not the Appetite alter? a Man loves the Meat in his Youth, that he cannot endure in his Age. Shall Quips and Sentences, �and these Paper-Bullets of the Brain, awe a Man from the Career of his Humour? No, the World must be peopled. When I said I would die a Bachelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd: Here comes Beatrice, by this Day she's a fair Lady, I do spy some Marks of Love in her. [Enter Beatrice.] Beat. Against my Will I am sent to bid you come in to Dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your Pains. Beat. I took no more Pains for those Thanks, than you take Pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. Bene. You take Pleasure then in the Message. Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a Knives Points and choak a Daw withal: you have no Stomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit.] Bene. Ha! Against my Will I am sent to bid you come in to Dinner; there's a double Meaning in that. I took no more Pains for those Thanks, than you took Pains to thank me; that's as much as to say, any Pains that I take for you is as easie as Thanks. If I do not take Pity of her I am a Villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her Picture. [Exit.] 349 ACT III. S C E N E I [Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.] Hero. Good Margaret run thee to the Parlour; There shalt thou find my Cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio, Whisper her Ear, and tell her I and Ursula �Walk in the Orchards and our whole Discourse Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us. And bid her steal into the pleached Bower, Where Honey-Suckles ripen'd by the Sun Forbid the Sun to enter; like Favourites Made proud by Princes, that advance their Pride Against that Power that bred it: There will she hid her, To listen to our Purpose; this is thy Office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. Marg. I'll make her come I warrant presently. [Exit.] Hero. Now Ursula when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this Alley up and down, Our Talk must only be of Benedick; When I do name him, let it be thy Part To praise him more than ever Man did merit. My Talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in Love with Beatrice; of this Matter Is little Cupid's crafty Arrow made, That only wounds by hear-say: Now begin. [Enter Beatrice.] For look where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs Close by the Ground to hear our Conference. Ursu. The pleasant'st angling is to see the Fish Cut with her golden Oars the silver Stream, And greedily devour the treacherous Bait; So angle we for Beatrice, who even now, Is couched in the Woodbine Overture; Fear you not my Part of the Dialogue. Hero. Then go we near her, that her Ear lose nothing Of the false sweet Bait that we lay for it. No truly Ursula, she is too disdainful, I know her Spirits are as coy and wild 350 As Haggerds of the Rock. Ursu. But are you sure �That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely? Hero. So lays the Prince, and my new trothed Lord. Ursu. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it, But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrastle with Affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Ursu. Why did you so? Doth not the Gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a Bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? Hero. O God of Love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a Man: But Nature never framed a Woman's Heart Of prouder Stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her Eye, Mis-prizing what they look on, and her Wit Values it self so highly, that to her All Matter else seems weak; she cannot love. Nor take no Shape nor Project of Affection, She is so self-indeared. Ursu. Sure I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his Love, lest she make Sport at it. Hero. Why you speak Truth, I never yet saw Man, How wise, now noble, young, how rarely featur'd. But she would spell him backward; if fair-fac'd, She would swear the Gentleman should be her Sister; If black, why Nature drawing of an Antick, Made a foul Blot; if tall, a Launce ill-headed; If low, an Agat very vildly cut; If speaking, why a Vane blown with all Winds; If silent, why a Block moved with none. So turns she every Man the wrong side out. And never gives to Truth and Virtue that Which Simpleness and Merit purchaseth. �Ursu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No, for to be so odd, and from all Fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? if I should speak, 351 She would mock me into an Air, O she would laugh me Out of my self, press me to Death with Wit. Therefore let Benedick, like covered Fire, Consume away in Sighs, waste inwardly; It were a bitter Death to die with Mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. Ursu. Yet tell her of it, hear what she will say. Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedickt And counsel him to fight against his Passion, And truly I'll devise some honest Slanders, To stain my Cousin with; one doth not know, How much an ill Word may impoison liking. Ursu. O do not do your Cousin such a Wrong. She cannot be so much without true Judgment, Having so sweet and excellent a Wit, As she is priz'd to have, as to refuse So rare a Gentleman as Signior Benedick. Hero. He is the only Man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. Ursu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madam, Speaking my Fancy; Signior Benedick, For Shape, for Bearing, Argument and Valour, Goes formost in Report through Italy. Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good Name. Ursu. �His Excellence did earn it e'er he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam? Hero. Why every Day, to Morrow; come go in, I'll shew thee some Attires, and have thy Counsel, Which is the best to furnish me to Morrow. Ursu. She's ta'en, I warrant you; We have caught her, Madam. Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps. Some Cupids kill with Arrows, some with Traps. [Exeunt.] Beat. What Fire is in my Ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn so much? Contempt farewel, and Maiden Pride adieu; No Glory lives behind the Back of such. And Benedick, love on, I will requite thee. Taming my wild Heart to thy loving Hand; If thou dost love, my Kindness shall incite thee To bind our Loves up in holy Band. 352 For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit.] [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.] Pedro. I do but stay 'till your Marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither my Lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a Soil in the new Gloss of your Marriage, as to shew a Child his new Coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his Company, for from the Crown of his Head to the Soul of his Foot he is all Mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's Bow-String, and the little Hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a Heart as sound as a Bell, �and the Tongue is the Clapper; for what his Heart thinks, his Tongue speaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So say I; methinks you are sadder. Claud. I hope he be in Love. Pedro. Hang him Truant, there's no true Drop of Blood in him, to be truly touched with Love; if he be sad, he wants Mony. Bene. I have the Tooth-ach. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it. Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. Pedro. What? sigh for the Tooth-ach. Leon. Which is but a Humour or a Worm. Bene. Well, every one cannot master a Grief, but he that has it. Claud. Yet say I, he is in Love. Pedro. There is no Appearance of Fancy in him, unless it be a Fancy that he hath to strange Disguises, as to be a Dutch Man to Day, a French Man to Morrow; unless he have a Fancy to this Foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no Fool for Fancy, as you would have it to appear he is. �Claud. If he be not in Love with some Woman, there is no believing old Signs; he brushes his Hat a Mornings: What should that bode? Pedro. Hath any Man seen him at the Barbers? 353 Claud. No, but the Barber's Man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his Cheek hath already stuft Tennis Balls. Leon. Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a Beard. Pedro. Nay he rubs himself with Civet, can you smell him out by that? Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet Youth's in Love. Pedro. The greatest Note of it is his Melancholy. Claud. And when was he wont to wash his Face? Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say of him. Claud. Nay, but his jesting Spirit, which is now crept into a Lute-string, and now govern'd by StopsPedro. Indeed that tells a heavy Tale for him; conclude he is in love. Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. �Pedro. That would I know too, I warrant one that knows him not. Claud. Yes, and his ill Conditions, and in despight of all dies for him. Pedro. She shall be bury'd with her Face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no Charm for the Tooth-ake. Old Signior walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these Hobby-horses must not hear. Pedro. For my Life to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Bears will not bite one another when they meet. [Enter Don John.] John. My Lord and Brother, God save you. Pedro. Good Den, Brother. John. If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. Pedro. In private? John. If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him. Pedro. What's the matter? John. Means your Lordship to be marry'd to Morrow? [to Claudio.] �Aa 354 Pedro. You know he does. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. Claud. If there be any Impediment, I pray you discover it. John. You may think I love you not, let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest; for my Brother, I think, he holds you well and in dearness of Heart hath holp to effect your ensuing Marriage; surely Sure ill spent, and Labour ill bestowed. Pedro. Why, what's the Matter? John. I came hither to tell you, and Circumstances shortned (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal. Claud. Who? Hero? John. Even she, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every Man's Hero. Claud. Disloyal? John. The Word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say she were worse; think you of a worse Title, and I will fit her to it: Wonder not 'till further Warrant; go but with me to Night, you shall see her Chamber Window enter'd, even the Night before her WeddingDay; if you love her, then to Morrow wed her; but it would better fit your Honour to change your Mind. Claud. �May this be so? Pedro. I will not think it. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know; if you will follow me, I will shew you enough; and when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly. Claud. If I see anything to Night why I should not marry her to Morrow, in the Congregation where I should wed, there will I shame her. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. John. I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are my Witnesses; bear it coldly but 'till Night, and let the Issue shew it self. Pedro. O Day untowardly turned! Claud. O Mischief strangely thwarting! John. O Plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have seen the Sequel. [Exeunt.] 355 [Enter Dogbery and Verges, with the Watch.] Dogb. Are you good Men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer Salvation, Body and Soul. Dogb. Nay, that were Punishment too good for them, if they should have any Allegiance in them, being chosen for �the Prince's Watch. Verg. Well, give them their charge, Neighbour Dogbery. Dogb. First, who think you the most disartless Man to be Constable? Watch I. Hugh Otecak, Sir, or, George Seacole; for they can write and read. Dogb. Come hither Neighbour Seacole, God hath blest you with a good Name; to be a well-favour'd Man, is the Gift of Fortune, but to write and read comes by Nature. Watch 2. Both which, Master Constable—— Dogb. You have: I knew it would be your Answer; well, for your Favour, Sir, why give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your Writing and Reading, let that appear when there is no need of such Vanity: You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit Man for the Constable of the Watch, therefore bear you the Lanthorn; this is your Charge: You shall comprehend all vagrom Men, you are to bid any Man stand in the Prince's Name. Watch 2. How if he will not stand? Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thank God you are rid of a Knave. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's Subjects. Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's Subjects: You shall also make no Noise in the Streets; For, for the Watch to babble and talk, is most tollerable, and not to be endur'd. �Watch. 2. We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch. Dogb. Why you speak like an ancient and most quiet Watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend; only have a care that your Bills be not stolen: Well, you are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are drunk get them to Bed. Aa2 356 Watch.2. How if they will not? Dogb. Why then let them alone 'till they are sober; if they make you not then the better Answer, you may say they are not the Men you took them for. Watch. 2. Well, Sir. Dogb. If you meet tue of your of Men, the more is for a Thief, you may suspect him, by verOffice, to be no true Man; and for such kind less you meddle or make with them, why the your Honesty. Watch. 2. If we know him to be a Thief, shall we not lay Hands on him? Dogb. Truly by your Office you may; but I think they that touch Pitch will be defil'd: The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a Thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of his Company. Verg. You have been always call'd a merciful Man, Partner. Dogb. Truly I would not hang a Dog for my Will, much more a Man who hath any Honesty in him. Verg. �If you hear a Child cry in the Night, you must call to the Nurse, and bid her still it. Watch. 2. How if the Nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Dogb. Why then depart in Peace, and let the Child wake her with crying: For the Ewe that will not hear her Lamb when it Baes, will never answer a Calf when it Bleats. Verg. 'Tis very true. Dogb. This is the end of the Charge: You Constable are to present the Prince's own Person, if you meet the Prince in the Night you may stay him. Verg. Nay, Birlady, that I think I cannot. Dogb. Five Shillings to one on't with any Man that knows the Statutes, he may stay him, marry not without the Prince be willing: For indeed the Watch ought to offend no Man; and it is an Offence to stay a Man against his Will. Verg. Birlady, I think it be so. Dogb. Ha, ha, ha, well Masters good Night, and there be any Matter of weight chances, call up me, keep your Fellow's Counsel, and your own, and good Night; come Neighbour. 357 Watch 2. Well Masters, we hear our Charge, let us go sit here upon the Church Bench 'till two, and then all to Bed. Dogb. One Word more, honest Neighbours. I pray you watch about Signior Leonato's Door, for the Wedding be- �ing there to Morrow, there is a great coil to Night; adieu; be vigilant I beseech you. [Exeunt.] [Enter Borachio and Conrade.] Bora. What, Conrade. Watch. Peace, stir not. [Aside.] Bora. Conrade I say. Conr. Here Man, I am at thy Elbow. Bora. Mass and my Elbow itch'd I thought there would a Scab follow. Conr. I will owe thee an Answer for that, and now forward thy Tale. Bora. Stand thee close then under this Pent-House, for it drizles Rain, and I will, like a true Drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch. Some Treason Masters, yet stand close. Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand Ducats. Conr. Is it possible that any Villany should be so dear? Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any Villany should be so rich? For when rich Villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what Price they will. Conr. I wonder at it. Bora. �That shews thou art unconfirm'd, thou knowest that the Fashion of a Doublet, or a Hat, or a Cloak, is nothing to a Man. Conr. Yes, it is Apparel. Bora. I mean the Fashion. Conr. Yes the Fashion is the Fashion. Bora. Tush, I may as well say the Fool's the Fool, but seest thou not what a deformed Thief this Fashion is? Watch. I know that Deformed, a has been a vile Thief this seven Years; a goes up and down like a Gentleman: I remember his Name. Bora. Did'st thou not hear some Body? Conr. No, 'twas the Vane on the House. Aa3 358 Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed Thief this Fashion is, how giddy he turns about all the Hot-bloods, between fourteen and five and thirty, sometimes fashioning them like Pharo's Soldiers in the rechy Paintings, sometimes like god Bell's Priests in the old Church-window, sometimes like thee shaven Hercules in the smirch'd worm-eaten Tapestry, where his Cod-piece seems as massie as his Club. Conr. All this I see, and see that the Fashion wears out more Apparel than the Man; but art not thou thy self giddy with the Fashion, that thou hast shifted out of thy Tale into telling me of the Fashion? Bora. Not so neither, but know that I have to Night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's Gentlewoman, by the �Name of Hero; she leans me out at her Mistress's Chamber Window, bids me a thousand times good night — I tell this Tale vildly —I should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my Master, planted and plac'd, and possessed by my Master Don John, saw afar off in the Orchard this amiable Encounter. Conr. And thought thy Margaret was Hero? Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the Devil my Master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his Oaths which first possest them, partly by the dark Night which did deceive them, but chiefly by my Villany, which did confirm any Slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged, swore he would meet her as he was appointed next Morning at the Temple, and there, before the whole Congregation shame her with what he saw o'er Night, and send her home again without a Husband. Watch I. We charge you in the Prince's Name stand. Watch 2. Call up the right Master Constable, we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of Lechery that ever was known in a Common-wealth. Watch I. And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, he wears a Lock. Conr. Masters, Masters. Watch 2. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Conr. Masters, never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. 359 Bora. We are like to prove a goodly Commodity, being taken up of these Mens Bills. �Conr. A Commodity in question I warrant you, come we'll obey you. [Exeunt.] [Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.] Hero. Good Ursula wake my Cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. Ursu. I will, Lady. Hero. And bid her come hither. Ursu. Well. Marg. Troth, I think your other Rebato were better. Hero. No pray thee good Meg, I'll wear this. Marg. By my Troth's not so good, and I warrant your Cousin will say so. Hero. My Cousin's a Fool, and thou art another, I'll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new Tire within excellently, if the Hair were a Thought browner; and your Gown's a most rare Fashion i'faith, I saw the Dutchess of Milan's Gown, that they praise so. Hero. O that exceeds, they say. Marg. By my Troth's but a Night-Gown in respect of yours; Cloth a Gold and Cuts, and lac'd with Silver, set with Pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves and Skirts, round, underborn with a blueish Tinsel; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent Fashion, yours is worth ten on't. �Hero. God give me Joy to wear it, for my Heart is exceeding heavy. Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a Man. Hero. Fie upon thee, art not asham'd? Marg. Of what, Lady? of speaking honourably? Is not Marriage honourable in a Beggar? Is not your Lord honourable without Marriage? I think you would have me say, saving your Reverence a Husband: And bad thinking do not wrest true speaking. I'll offend no Body, is there any harm in the heavier for a Husband? None I think, and it be the right Husband, and the right Wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes. 360 [Enter Beatrice.] Hero. Good Morrow, Coz. Beat. Good Morrow, sweet Hero. Hero. Why how now? do you speak in the sick Tune? Beat. I am out of all other Tune methinks. Marg. Clap's into Light a Love (that goes without a Burden,) do you sing it, and I'11 dance it. Beat. Yes light a love with your Heels, then if your Husband have Stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no Barns. Marg. O illegitimate Construction! I scorn that with �my Heels. Beat. 'Tis almost five a Clock, Cousin; 'tis time you were ready: By my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho! Marg. For a Hawk, a Horse, or a Husband? Beat. For the Letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, and you be not turn'd Turk there's no more failing by the Star. Beat. What means the Fool, trow? Marg. Nothing I, but God send every one their Heart's Desire. Hero. These Gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent Perfume. Beat. I am stuft, Cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A Maid and stuft! there's a goodly catching of Cold. Beat. O God help me, God help me, how long have you profest Apprehension? Marg. Ever since you left it; doth not my Wit become me rarely. Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear in your Cap. By my troth I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your Heart, it is the only thing for a Qualm. �Hero. There thou prick'st her with a Thistle. Beat. Benedictus? why Benedictus? You have some Moral in this Benedictus. Marg. Moral? no by my troths I have no moral meaning. I meant plain Holy-Thistle; you may think perchance that I think you are in Love, nay birlady I am not such a fool to think what I list, nor I list not to think what I can, 361 nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my Heart out of thinking, that you are in Love, or that you will be in Love, or that you can be in Love: Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a Man; he swore he would never marry, and yet now in despight of his Heart he eats his Meat without grudging, and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your Eyes as other Women do. Beat. What pace is this thy Tongue keeps? Marg. Not a false Gallop. [Enter Ursula.] Ursu. Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the Gallants of the Town are come to fetch you to Church. Hero. Help to dress me, good Coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt.] [Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.] Leon. What would you with me, honest Neighbour? Dogb. Marry Sir I would have some Confidence with �you, that decerns you nearly. Leon. Brief I pray you, for you see 'tis a busie time with me. Dogb. Marry this it is, Sir. Verg. Yes in truth it is, Sir. Leon. What is it, my good Friends? Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter, an old Man, Sir, and his Wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were, but in faith honest as the Skin between his Brows. Verg. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man living that is an old man, and no honester than I. Dogb. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, Neighbour Verges. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Dogb. It pleases your Worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's Officers; but truly for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your Worship. Leon. All thy Tediousness on me! ah — 362 Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I hear as good Exclamation on your Worship as of any Man in the City, and tho' I be but a poor Man, I am glad to hear it. �Verg. And so am I. Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, Sir, our Watch to Night, excepting your Worship's Presence, have tane a couple of as arrant Knaves, as any in Messina. Dogb. A good old Man, Sir, he will be talking as they say, when the Age is in, the Wit is out, God help us, it is a World to see: Well said i'faith, Neighbour Verges, well, God's a good Man, and two Men rides an Horse, one must ride behind, an honest Soul i'faith Sir, by my Troth he is, as ever broke Bread, but God is to be worshipt, all Men are not alike, alas good Neighbour. Leon. Indeed Neighbour he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts that God gives. Leon. I must leave you. Dogb. One word, Sir, our Watch have indeed comprehended two aspicious Persons, and we would have them this Morning examined before your Worship. Leon. Take their Examination your self, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. Dogb. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drink some Wine e'er you go: Fare you well. [Enter a Messenger.] Mess. My Lord, they stay for you to give your Daughter to her Husband. �Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Ex. Leonato.] Dogb. Go good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoals, bid him bring his Pen and Inkhorn to the Goal; we are now to examine those Men. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dogb. We will spare for no Wit I warrant you; here's that shall drive some of them to a non-come, only get the learn'd Writer to set down our Excommunication, and meet me at the Goal. [Exeunt.] 363 A C T IV, S C E N E I. [Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedick, Hero and Beatrice.]] Leon. Come Frier Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of Marriage, and you shall recount their particular Duties afterwards. Frier. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady. Claud. No. Leon. To be marry'd to her, Frier, you come to marry her. Frier. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to the Count. Hero. I do. Frier. If either of you know any inward Impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your �Souls to utter it. Claud. Know you any, Hero? Hero. None, my Lord. Friar. Know you any, Count? Leon. I dare make his Answer, None. Claud. O what Men dare do! what Men may do! what men daily do! Bene. How now! Interjections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he. Claud. Stand thee by, Frier: Father by your Leave, Will you with free and unconstrained Soul Give me this Maid your Daughter? Leon. As freely, Son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious Gift? Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble Thankfulness: There Leonato, take her back again. Give not this rotten Orange to your Friend, She's but the sign and semblance of her Honour: Behold how like a Maid she blushes here! O what authority and shew of Truth Can cunning Sin cover it self withal! 364 Comes not that Blood, as modest Evidence, �To witness simple Virtue? would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a Maid, By these exterior Shews? But she is none: She knows the Heat of a luxurious Bed; Her Blush is Guiltiness, not Modesty. Leon. What do you mean, my Lord ? Claud. Not to be marry'd, Not knit my Soul to an approved Wanton. Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own Proof Have vanquish'd the Resistance of her Youth, And made Defeat of her Virginity Claud. I know what you would say: If I have known her, You will say, she did embrace me as a Husband, And so extenuate the forehand Sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with Word too large. But as a Brother to his Sister, shew'd Bashful Sincerity, and comely Love, Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thee seeming, I will write against it, You seem to me as Dian in her Orb, As chaste as is the Bud e'er it be blown: But you are more intemperate in your Blood Than Venus, or those pamper'd Animals That rage in savage Sensuality. Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide? Leon. Sweet Prince, why speak not you? Pedro. What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear Friend to a common Stale. Leon. �Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This looks not like a Nuptial. Hero. True! O God! Claud. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother? Is this Face Hero's? Are our Eyes our own? Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my Lord? Clau. Let me but move one Question to your Daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly Power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 365 Leon. I charge thee doo so, as thou art my Child. Hero. O God defend me, how am I beset! What kind of catechizing call you this? Leon. To make you answer truly to your Name. Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that Name With any just Reproach? Claud. Marry that can Hero, Hero her self can blot out Hero's Virtue. What Man was he talkt with you yesternight. Out at your Window betwixt twelve and one? Now if you are a Maid, answer to this. Hero. I talk'd with no Man at that Hour, my Lord. �Pedro. Why then you are no Maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear; upon mine Honour, My self, my Brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that Hour last Night, Talk with a Ruffian at her Chamber window, Who hath indeed, most like a liberal Villain, Confess'd the vile Encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, Not to be spoken of. There is not Chastity enough in Language, Without Offence, to utter them: Thus, pretty Lady I am sorry for thy much Misgovernment. Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward Graces had been plac'd About the Thoughts and Counsels of thy Heart? But fare thee well, most foul, most fair, farewel Thou pure Impiety, and impious Purity; For thee I'll lock up all the Gates of Love, And on my Eyelids shall Conjecture hang, To turn all Beauty into Thoughts of Harm, And never shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no Man's Dagger here a Point for me? Beat. Why how now Cousin, wherefore sink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light Smother her Spirits up. [Exe. D. Pedro, D. John and Claud.] Bene. How doth the Lady? Beat. Dead I think: Help, Uncle. Hero! why Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Frier! 366 Leon. O Fate! take not away thy heavy Hand, Death is the fairest Cover for her Shame �That may be wish'd for. Beat. How now, Cousin Hero? Frier. Have Comfort, Lady. Leon. Dost thou look up? Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore? Why doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The Story that is printed in her Blood? Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy Spirits were stronger than thy Shames, My self would on the Rereward of Reproaches Strike at thy Life. Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal Nature's frame? I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my Eyes? Why had not I, with charitable Hand, Took up a Beggar's Issue at my Gates; Who smeered thus, and mir'd with Infamy, I might have said, no part of it is mine. This Shame derives it self from unknown Loins? But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much That I my self was to my self not mine. Valuing of her; why she, O she is fall'n Into a Pit of Ink, that the wide Sea Hath Drops too few to wash her clean again, And Salt too little, which may Season give To her foul tainted Flesh. Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient; for my part, I am so attired in Wonder, I know not what to say. Beat. O on my Soul my Cousin is bely'd. Bene. Lady, were you her Bedfellow last Night? �Beat. No truly, not; altho' until last Night I have this Twelvemonth been her Bedfellow. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O that is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with Ribs of Iron. Would the Prince lie? and Claudio would he lie, Who lov'd her so, that speaking of her Foulness 367 Wash'd it with Tears? Hence from her, let her die. Frier. Hear me a little, for I have only been silent so long, and given way unto this course of Fortune, by noting of the Lady. I have mark'd A thousand blushing Apparitions To start into her Face, a thousand innocent Shames In Angel whiteness bear away those Blushes, And in her Eye there hath appear'd a Fire To burn the Errors that these Princes hold Against her Maiden Truth. Call me a Fool, Trust not my Reading, nor my Observations, Which with experimental Seal doth warrant The tenure of my Book; trust not my Age, My Reverence, Calling, nor Divinity, If this sweet Lady lye not guiltless here, Under some biting Error. Leon. Frier, it cannot be; Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left, Is, that she will not add to her Damnation A Sin of Perjury, she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to cover with Excuse, That which appears in proper Nakedness? Frier. Lady, what Man is he you are accus'd of? Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know none: If I know more of any Man alive Than that which maiden Modesty doth warranty, Let all my Sins lack Mercy. O my Father, Prove you that any Man with me conversed �At Hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the Change of Words with any Creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to Death. Frier. There is some strange Misprision in the Prince. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of Honour, And if their Wisdoms be miss-led in this, The Practice of it lives in John the Bastard, Whose Spirits toil in frame of Villanies. Leon. I know not: If they speak but Truth of her, These Hands shall tear her; if they wrong her Honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dry'd this Blood of mine, Nor Age so eat up my Invention, 368 Nor Fortune made such Havock of my Means, Nor my bad Life rest me so much of Friends, But they shall find awak'd in such a kind. Both Strength of Limb, and Policy of Mind, Ability in Means, and Choice of Friends, To quit me of them thoroughly. Frier. Pause a while, And let my Counsel sway you in this case. Your Daughter here the Princess (left for dead) Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed: Maintain a mourning Ostentation, And on your Family's old Monument Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all Rites That appertain unto a Burial. Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do? Frier. Marry, this well carry'd, shall on her behalf Change Slander to Remorse, that is some good: But not for that, dream I on this strange course, But on this Travel look for greater Birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, �Upon the Instant that she was accus'd, Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd Of every Hearer: For so it falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we rack the Value, then we find The Virtue that Possession would not shew us Whilst it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio: When be shall hear she dy'd upon his Words, Th' Idea of her Life shall sweetly creep Into his Study of Imagination, And every lovely Organ of her Life Shall come apparel'd in more precious Habit; More moving, delicate, and full of Life, Into the Eye and Prospect of his Soul, Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn, If ever Love had Interest in his Liver, And wish he had not so accused her; No, tho' he thought his Accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not but Success 369 Will fashion the Event in better Shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all Aim but this be level'd false, The Supposition of the Lady's Death Will quench the Wonder of her Infamy. And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded Reputation, In some reclusive and religious Life, Out of all Eyes, Tongues, Minds, and Injuries. Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier advice you, And tho' you know my Inwardness and Love Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine Honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly, as your Soul Should with your Body. Leon. Being that I flow in Grief, The smallest Twine may lead me. Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away, For to strange Sores, strangely they strain the Cure: Come Lady, die to live; this Wedding-Day �Perhaps is but prolong'd, have Patience and endure. [Exeunt.] [Manent Benedick and Beatrice.] Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that. Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely I do believe your fair Cousin is wrong'd. Beat. Ah how much might the Man deserve of me that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to shew such Friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such Friend. Bene. May a Man do it? Beat. It is a Man's Office, but not yours. Bene. I do love nothing in the World so well as you; is not that strange? Beat. As strange as the thing I know not; it were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you; but believe me not; and yet I lye not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing: I am sorry for my Cousin. Bene. By my Sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. Beat. �Do not swear by it and eat it. Bb 370 Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your Word? Bene. With no Sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest I love thee. Beat. Why then God forgive me. Bene. What Offence, sweet Beatrice? Beat. You have stay'd me in a happy Hour; I was about to protest I lov'd you. Bene. And do it with all thy Heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my Heart, that none is left to protest. Bene. Come bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide World. Beat. You kill me to deny; farewel. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. �I am gone tho' I am here; there is no Love in you; nay I pray you let me go. Bene. Beatrice. Beat. In faith I will go. Bene. We'll be Friends first. Beat. You dare easier be Friends with me, than fight with mine Enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine Enemy? Beat. Is he not approved in the height a Villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my Kinswoman? O that I were a Man! What, bear her in Hand until they come to take Hands, and then with publick Accusation, uncover'd Slander, unmittigated Rancour — O God that I were a Man, I would eat his Heart in the Market Place. Bene. Hear me, Beatrice. Beat. Talk with a Man out at a Window — a proper Saying. Bene. Nay but Beatrice. Beat. Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone. Bene. But—— Beat. Princes and Counties! surely a princely Testimony, a goodly Count-Comfect, a sweet Gallant surely; O that I were a Man for his sake! or that I had any Friend �371 would be a Man for my sake! But Manhood is melted into Curtesies, Valour into Compliment, and Men are only turn'd into Tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a Lie, and swears it; I cannot be a Man with wishing, therefore I will die a Woman with grieving. Bene. Tarry good Beatrice; by this Hand I love thee. Beat. Use it for my Love some other way than swearing by it. Bene. Think you in your Soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero? Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a Thought or a Soul. Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him, I will kiss your Hand, and so leave you; by this Hand, Claudio shall render me dear Account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your Cousin, I must say she is dead, and so farewel. [Exeunt.] [Enter Dogberry, Virges, Borachio, Conrade, the TownClerk and Sexton in Gowns.] To. Cl. Is our whole Dissembly appeared? Dog. O a Stool and Cushion for the Sexton. Sexton. Which be the Malefactors? Verg. Marry that am I, and my Partner. Dog. Nay, that's certain, we have the Exhibition to examine. �Sexton. But which are the Offenders that are to be examined! Let them come before Master Constable. To. Cl. Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is your Name Friend? Bora. Borachio. To. Cl. Pray write down Borachio. Yours Sirrah? Conr. I am a Gentleman Sir, and my Name is Conrade. To. Cl. Write down Master Gentleman, Conrade; Masters, do you serve God? Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false Knaves, and it will go hear to be thought so shortly; how answer you for your selves? Conr. Marry, Sir, we say we are none. To. Cl. A marvellous witty Fellow I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, Sirrah, a Word in your Ear, Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false Knaves. 372 Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. To. Cl. Well, Stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a Tale; have you writ down they are none? Sexton. Master Town-Clerk, you go not the way to examine, you must call the Watch that are their Accusers. To. Cl. Yea, marry that's the easiest Way, let the Watch come forth; Masters, I charge you in the Prince's Name accuse these Men. �I Watch. This Man said, Sir, that Don John, the Prince's Brother, was a Villain. To. Cl. Write down, Prince John a Villain; why this is flat Perjury, to call a Prince's Brother Villain. Bora. Master Town-Clerk. To. CI. Pray thee Fellow Peace, I do not like thy Look, I promise thee. Sexton. What heard you him say else? 2 Watch. Marry, That he had receiv'd a thousand Ducats of Don John, for the accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. Kemp. Flat Burglary as ever was committed. Dog. Yea by th' Mass that it is. Sexton. What else Fellow? 1 Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his Words, to disgrace Hero before the whole Assembly, and not marry her. To. Cl. O Villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting Redemption for this. Sexton. What else? 2 Watch. This is all. Sexton. And this is more Masters than you can deny, �Prince John is this Morning secretly stol'n away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and upon the Grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master Constable, let these Men be bounds and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their Examination. Dog. Come, let them be opinion'd. Sexton. Let them be in the Hands of Coxcomb. [Exit.] Dog. God's my Life, where's the Sexton? Let him write down the Prince's Officer Coxcomb, come, bind them, thou naughty Varlet. 373 Conr. Away, you are an Ass, you are an Ass. Dog. Dost thou not suspect my Place? dost thou not suspect my Years? O that he were here to write me down an Ass! But Masters, remember that I am an Ass, tho' it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an Ass; no thou Villain, thou art full of Piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good Witness, I am a wise Fellow, and which is more, an Officer; and which is more an Housholder; and which is more, as pretty a Piece of Flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the Law, go to, and a rich Fellow enough, go to, and a Fellow that hath had Losses, and one that hath two Gowns, and every thing handsome about him, bring him away; O that I had been writ down an Ass. [Exit.] A C T V. S C E N E I. [Enter Leonato and Antonio.] Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill your self, And 'tis not Wisdom thus to second Grief, Against your self. Leon. �I pray thee cease thy Counsel, Which falls into mine Bars as profitless As Water in a Sieve; give not me Counsel, Nor let no Comfort else delight mine Ear, But such a one whose Wrongs doth sute with mine. Bring me a Father that so lov'd his Child, Whose Joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, And bid him speak of Patience; Measure his Woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every Strain for Strain; As thus for thus, and such a Grief for such, In every Lineament, Branch, Shape, and Form; If such a one will smile and stroke his Beard, And hollow, wag, cry hem, when he should groan, Patch Grief with Proverbs, make Misfortune drunk, With Candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather Patience. Bb3 374 But there is no such Man; for Brother, Men Can council, and give Comfort to that Grief Which they themselves not feel, but tasting it, Their Counsel turns to Passion, which before Would give preceptial Medicine to Rage, Fetter strong Madness in a silken Thread, Charm Ach with Air, and Agony with Words. No, no, 'tis all Mens Office, to speak Patience To those that wring under the Load of Sorrow; But no Man's Virtue nor Sufficiency To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no Counsel, My Griefs cry louder than Advertisement. Ant. Therein do Men from Children nothing differ. Leon. I pray thee Peace, I will be Flesh and Blood, For there was never yet Philosopher, That could endure the Tooth-ach patiently; However they have writ the Stile of Gods, And made a push at Chance and Sufferance. Ant. Yet bend not all the Harm upon your self. Make those that do offend you suffer too. �Leon. There thou speak'st Reason, nay I will do so, My Soul doth tell me, Hero is bely'd, And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.] Ant. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. Pedro. Good den, good den, Claud. Good Day to both of you. Leon. Hear you, my Lords! Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. Leon. Some haste, my Lord! well fare you well, my Lord. Are you so hasty now? well all is one. Pedro. Nay do not quarrel with us, good old Man. Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lye low. Claud. Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry thou dost wrong me, thou Dissembler thou: Nay never lay thy hand upon thy Sword, I fear thee not. 375 Claud. Marry beshrew my Hand, If it should give your Age such Cause of Fear; Infaith my Hand meant nothing to my Sword. �Leon. Tush, tush, Man, never fleer and jest at me, I speak not like a Dotard nor a Fool, As under Privilege of Age to brag, What I have done, being young, or what would do, Were I not old: Know Claudio, to thy Head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent Child and me, That I am forc'd to lay my Reverence by, And with grey Hairs and Bruise of many Days Do challenge thee to trial of a Man; I say thou hast bely'd mine innocent Child, Thy Slander hath gone through and through her Heart, And she lyes bury'd with her Ancestors: O in a Tomb where never Scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram'd by thy Villany. Claud. My Villany? Leon. Thine Claudio, thine I say. Pedro. You say not right, old Man. Leon. My Lord, my Lord, I'll prove it on his Body if he dare; Despight his nice Fence, and his active Practice, His May of Youth and Bloom of Lustyhood. Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you. Leon. Can'st thou so daffe me? Thou hast kill'd my Child; If thou kill'st me Boy, thou shalt kill a Man. Ant. He shall kill two of us, and Men indeed; But that's no matter, let him kill one first; Win me and wear me, let him answer me; Come, follow me Boy, come Sir Boy; come, follow me. Sir Boy, I'll whip you from your foining Fence; Nay, as I am a Gentleman, I will. Leon. Brother. �Ant. Content your self, God knows I lov'd my Neice, And she is dead, slander'd to Death by Villains, That dare as well answer a Man indeed, As I dare take a Serpent by the Tongue. Boys, Apes, Braggarts, Jacks, Milksops. Leon. Brother Anthony. Ant. Hold you content; what Man? I know them, yea Bb4 376 And what they weigh, even to the utmost Scruple: Scambling, outfacing, fashion-mongring Boys, That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, Go antickly, and show an outward Hideousness, And speak of half a Dozen dangerous Words; How they might hurt their Enemies if they durst; And this is all. Leon. But brother Anthony: Ant. Come, 'tis no mater, Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your Patience; My Heart is sorry for your Daughter's Death; But on my Honour she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of Proof. Leon. My Lord, my Lord. Pedro. I will not hear you. [Enter Benedick.] Leon. No! come Brother away, I will be heard. [Exeunt amb.] �Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it. Pedro. See, see, here comes the Man we went to seek. Claud. Now Signior, what News? Bene. Good Day, my Lord. Pedro. Welcome Signior; you are almost come to part almost a Fray. Claud. We had like to have had our two Noses snapt off with two old Men without Teeth. Pedro. Leonato and his Brother; what thinkst thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. Bene. In a false Quarrel there is no true Valour: I came to seek you both. Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are high proof Melancholly, and would fain have it beaten away: Wilt thou use thy Wit? Bene. It is in my Scabbard; shall I draw it? Pedro. Dost thou wear thy Wit by thy Side? Claud. Never any did so, tho' very many have been beside their Wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the Minstrels draw to pleasure us. Pedro. As I am an honest Man he looks pale: Art thou Sick, or Angry? �377 Claud. What! Courage Man: What tho' Care kill'd a Cat, thou hast Mettle enough to kill Care. Ben. Sir, I shall meet your Wit in the Career, and you charge it against me. I pray you chuse another Subject. Claud. Nay, then give him another Staff, this last was broke cross. Pedro. By this Light he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed. Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his Girdle. Bene. Shall I speak a Word in your Ear? Claud. God bless me from a Challenge. Bene. You are a Villain; I jest not, I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your Cowardice: You have kill'd a sweet Lady, and her Death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. Claud. Well I will meet you, so I may have good Cheer. Pedro. What a Feast? Claud. I faith I thank him, he hath bid me to a Calves Head and a Capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my Knife's naught. Shall I not find a Woodcock too? Bene. Sir, your Wit ambles well, it goes easily. Pedro. �I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy Wit the other day: I said thou hadst a fine Wit; true says she, a fine little one; no, said I, a great Wit; right says she, a great gross one; nay said I, a good Wit; just said she, it hurts no body; nay said I, the Gentleman is wise; certain said she, a wise Gentleman; nay said I, he hath the Tongues; that I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double Tongue, there's two Tongues. Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular Virtues, yet at last she concluded with a Sigh, thou wast the properest Man in Italy. Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said she car'd not. Pedro. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly, the old Man's Daughter told us all. 378 Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the Garden. Pedro. But when shall we set the salvage Bull's Horns on the sensible Benedick's Head? Claud. Yea, and Text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the Married Man. Bene. Fare you well, Boy, you know my Mind, I will leave you now to your gossip-like Humour, you break Jests as Braggards do their Blades, which God be thank'd hurt not; my Lord, for your many Courtesies I thank you, I must discontinue your Company, your Brother the Bastard is fled from Messina; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent Lady for my Lord Lack-beard there; he and I shall meet, and till then peace be with him. [Exit Benedick.] Pedro. He is in earnest. �Claud. In most profound earnest, and I'll warrant you for the Love of Beatrice. Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee. Claud. Most sincerely. Pedro. What a pretty thing Man is when he goes in his Doublet and Hose, and leaves off his Wit. [Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded.] Claud. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to such a Man. Pedro. But soft you, let me see, pluck up my Heart, and be sad, did he not say my Brother was fled? Dog. Come you, Sir, if Justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more Reasons in her Ballance; nay, and you be a cursing Hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. Pedro. How now, two of my Brother's Men bound? Borachio one! Claud. Hearken after their Offence, my Lord. Pedro. Officers, what Offence have these Men done? Dog. Marry, Sir, they have committed false Report, moreover they have spoken Untruths; secondarily they are Slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a Lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust Things, and to conclude they are lying Knaves. Pedro. First I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their Offence; sixth and lastly why they �379 are committed, and to conclude, what lay you to their Charge? Claud. Rightly reason'd, and in his own Division, and by my Troth, there's one meaning well suited. Pedro. Whom have you offended, Masters, that you are thus bound to your Answer? This learned Constable is too cunning to be understood, what's your Offence? Bora. Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine Answer; do you hear me, and let this Count kill me; I have deceived even your very Eyes; what your Wisdoms could not discover, these shallow Fools have brought to light, who in the Night heard me confessing to this Man, how Don John your Brother incens'd me to slander the Lady Hero, now you were brought into the Orchard, and saw me Court Margaret in Hero's Garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should marry her; my Villany they have upon Record, which I had rather seal with my Death, than repeat over to my Shame; the Lady is dead upon mine and my Master's false Accusation, and briefly, I desire nothing but the Reward of a Villain. Pedro. Runs not this Speech like Iron through your Blood? Claud. I have drunk Poison while he utter'd it. Pedro. But did my Brother set thee on to this? Bora. Yea, and paid me rich for the Practice of it. Pedro. He is composed of Treachery, And fled he is upon this Villany. Claud. Sweet Hero, now thy Image doth appear In the rare Semblance that I lov'd it first. �Dog. Come bring away the Plaintiffs, by this time our Sexton hath inform'd Signior Leonato of the Matter; and Masters, do not forget to specifie when time and place shall serve, that I am an Ass. Verg. Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. [Enter Leonato.] Leon. Which is the Villain? Let me see his Eyes, That when I note another Man like him, I may avoid him; which of these is he? Bora. If you would know your Wronger, look on me. 380 Leon. Art thou, art thou the Slave that with thy Breath Hast kill'd mine innocent Child? Bora. Yea, even I alone. Leon. No, not so Villain, thou beli'st thy self; Here stand a pair of honourable Men, A third is fled that had a hand in it: I thank you Princes for my Daughter's Death, Record it with your high and worthy Deeds, 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. Claud. I know not how to pray your Patience, Yet I must speak, chuse your Revenge your self, Impose me to what Penance your Invention Can lay upon my Sin; yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking. Pedro. By my Soul nor I; And yet to satisfie this good old Man, I would bend under any heavy weight; �That he'll enjoin me too. Leon. You cannot bid my Daughter live again, That were impossible; but I pray you both Possess the People in Messina here How innocent she dy'd, and if your Love Can labour ought in sad Invention, Hang her an Epitaph upon her Tomb, And sing it to her Bones, sing it to Night: To Morrow Morning come you to my House, And since you could not be my Son-in-Law, Be yet my Nephew; my Brother hath a Daughter Almost the Copy of my Child that's dead, And she alone is Heir to both of us, Give her the Right you should have giv'n her Cousin, And so dies my Revenge. Claud. O Noble, Sir! Your over-Kindness doth wring Tears from me: I do embrace your Offer, and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. Leon. To Morrow then I will expect your coming, To Night I take my Leave; this naughty Man Shall Face to Face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was packt in all this Wrong, Hired to it by your Brother. 381 Bora. No by my Soul she was not. Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But always hath been just and virtuous. In any thing that I do know by her. Dog. Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this Plaintif here, the Offender did call me Ass; I beseech you let it be remembred in his Punishment; and also the Watch heard them talk of one Deformed: They say he wears a Key in his Ear, and a Lock hanging by it, and borrows Mony in God's Name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that now Men grow hard hearted, and will lend nothing for God's Sake. Pray you examine him upon that Point. �Leon. I thank thee for thy Care and honest Pains. Dog. Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend Youth; and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy Pains. Dog. God save the Foundation. Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy Prisoner; and I thank thee. Dog. I leave an errant Knave with your Worship, which I beseech your Worship to correct your self, for the Example of others. God keep your Worship; I wish your Worship well: God restore your Health; I humbly give you Leave to depart; and if a merry Meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. Come Neighbour. [Exeunt.] Leon. Until to Morrow Morning, Lords, farewel. Ant. Farewel my Lords, we look for you to Morrow. Pedro. We will not fail. Claud. To Night I'll mourn with Hero. Leon. Bring you these Fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, how her Acquaintance grew with this lewd Fellow. [Exeunt.] [Enter Benedick and Margaret.] Bene. Pray thee sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my Hands, by helping me to the Speech of Beatrice. Marg. �Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my Beauty? Bene. In so high a Stile Margaret, that no Man living shall come over it; for in most comely Truth thou deservest it. 382 Marg. To have no Man come over me; why, shall I always keep below Stairs? Bene. Thy Wit is as quick as the Greyhound's Mouth, it ketches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the Fencers Foils, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly Wit Margaret, it will not hurt a Woman; and so I pray thee call Beatrice; I give thee the Bucklers. Marg. Give us the Swords, we have Bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them Margaret, you must put it in the Pikes with a Vice, and they are dangerous Weapons for Maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath Legs. [Exit Margaret.] Bene. And therefore will come. The God of Love that sits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, I mean in Singing; but in loving, Leander the good Swimmer, Troilus the first Employer of Panders, and a whole Book full of these quondam Carpet-mongers, whose Names yet run smoothly in the even Road of a blank Verse, why they were never so truly turn'd over, as my poor self in Love; marry I cannot shew it in Rhime; I have try'd, I can find out no Rhime to a Lady but Baudy, an Innocents �Rhime; for scorn, horn, a hard Rhime; for school, fool, a babling Rhime; very ominous Endings; no, I was not born under a Rhiming Planet, for I cannot woo in festival Terms. [Enter Beatrice.] Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee? Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O stay but 'till then. Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now; and yet e'er I go, let me go with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath past between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul Words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. Beat. Foul Words are foul Wind, and foul Wind is but foul Breath, and foul Breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. Bene. Thou hast frighted the Word out of its rigth Sense, so forcible is thy Wit; but I must tell thee plainly, Clau383 dio undergoes my Challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a Coward; and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad Parts didst thou first fall in Love with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintained so politick a State of Evil, that they will not admit any good Part to intermingle with them: But for which of my good Parts did you suffer Love for me? Bene. Suffer Love! a good Epithete; I do suffer Love indeed, for I love thee against my Will. Beat. �In spight of your Heart, I think; alas poor Heart, if you spight it for my Sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will never love that which my Friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this Confession; there's not one wise Man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old Instance Beatrice, that liv'd in the Time of good Neighbours; if a Man do not erect in this Age his own Tomb e'er he dies, he shall live no longer in Monuments than the Bells ring, and the Widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question; why an Hour in Clamour, and a Quarter in Rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the Wise, if Don Worm (his Conscience) find no Impediment to the contrary, to be the Trumpet of his own Virtues, as I am to my self; so much for praising my self; who I my self will bear Witness is Praise-worthy; and now tell me how doth your Cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. [Enter Ursula.] Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Ursu. Madam, you must come to your Uncle; yonder's old Coil at Home; it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsly accus'd, the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the Author of all, who is fled and gone: Will �you come presently? Beat. Will you go hear this News, Signior? Bene. I will live in thy Heart, die in thy Lap, and be bu384 ried in thy Eyes; and moreover, I will go with thee to thy Uncle. [Exeunt.] [Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with Tapers.] Claud. Is this the Monument of Leonato? Atten. It is my Lord. EPITAPH. Done to Death by Slanderous Tongues, Was the Hero that here lyes: Death in guerdon of her Wrongs, Gives her Fame which never dies: So the Life that dy'd with Shame, Lives in Death with glorious Fame. Hang thou there upon the Tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. Claud. Now Musick sound and sing your solemn Hymn. SONG. Pardon Goddess of the Night, Those that slew the Virgin Knight; For the which with Songs of Woe, Round about her Tomb they go. Midnight assist our Moan, Help us to Sigh and groan. Heavily, heavily, Graves yawn and yield your Dead, 'Till Death be Uttered, Heavenly, heavenly. Claud. �Now unto thy Bones goodnight; Yearly will I do this Right. Pedro. Good morrow Masters, put your Torches out, The Wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle Day Before the Wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie East with Spots of Grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow Masters; each his several way. Mus. Come, let us hence, and put on other Weeds, And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud. And Hymen now with luckier Issue speed, Than this for whom we rendred up this Woe. [Exeunt.] [Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Frier and Hero.] Frier. Did I not tell you she was Innocent? Leon. So are the Prince and Clandio who accus'd her. Upon the Error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some Fault for this; Although against her Will as it appears, In the true Course of all the Question. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by Faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well Daughter, and young Gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a Chamber by your selves, And when I send for you come hither Mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this Hour To visit me; you know your Office Brother, You must be Father to your Brother's Daughter, �And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies.] Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd Countenance. Bene. Frier, I must intreat your Pains, I think. Frier. To do what, Signior? Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior, Your Neice regards me with an Eye of Favour. Ant. That Eye my Daughter lent her, 'tis most true. Bene. And I do with an Eye of Love requite her. Leon. The Sight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your Will? Bene. Your Answer, Sir, is enigmatical, But for my Will, my Will is, your good Will May stand with ours, this Day to be conjoined I'th' State of honourable Marriage, In which, good Frier, I shall desire your help. Leon. My Heart is with your liking. Frier. And my help. [Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with Attendants.] Pedro. Good Morrow to this fair Assembly. Leon. Good Morrow, Prince, good Morrow Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To Day to marry with my Brother's Daughter? �Claud. I'll hold my Mind, were she an Ethiope. Cc 386 Leon. Call her forth, Brother, here's the Frier ready. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick, why what's the matter; That you have such a February Face, So full of Frost, of Storm, and Cloudiness? Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage Bull: Tush, fear not Man, we'll tip thy Horns with Gold, And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the Noble Beast in Love. Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable Low, And some such strange Bull leapt your Father's Cow, And got a Calf in that same noble feat, Much like to you, for you have just his Bleat. [Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula.] Claud. For this I owe you; here come other Reckonings. Which is the Lady I must seize' upon? Leon. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why then she is mine; sweet let me see your Face. Leon. No, that you shall not, 'till you take her Hand Before this Frier, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your Hand before this holy Frier; I am your Husband if you like of me. Hero. And when I liv'd I was your other Wife; [unmasking.] �And when you lov'd you were my other Husband. Clau. Another Hero? Hero. Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd, but I do live; And surely as I live I am a Maid. Pedro. The former Hero, Hero that is dead. Leon. She dy'd my Lord, but whiles her Slander liv'd. Frier. All this Amazement can I qualifie, When after that the holy Rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's Death: Mean time let Wonder seem familiar, And to the Chappel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, Frier. Which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that Name, what is your Will? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. Why, no more than Reason. Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd, they swore you did. 387 Beat. Do not you love me? Bene. Troth no, no more than Reason. Beat. Why, then my Cousin, Margaret and Ursula �Are much deceiv'd, for they did swear you did. Bene. They swore you were almost sick for me. Beat. They swore your were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you do not love me? Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence. Leon. Come Cousin, I am sure you love the Gentleman. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her, For here's a Paper written in his Hand, A halting Sonnet of his own pure Brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. Hero. And here's another. Writ in my Cousin's Hand, stolen from her Pocket, Containing her Affection unto Benedick. Bene. A Miracle, here's our Hands against our Hearts; come I will have thee, but by this Light I take thee for pity. Beat. I would not deny you, but by this good Day, I yield upon great Perswasion, and partly to save your Life, for as I was told, you were in a Consumption. Leon. Peace, I will stop your Mouths. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the Married Man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince, a College of wittycrackers cannot flout me out of my Humour; dost thou think I care for a Satyr, or an Epigram? No, if a Man will be beaten with Brains, he shall wear nothing handsome �about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the World can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for Man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my Kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my Cousin. Claud. I had well hop'd thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have Cudgell'd thee out of thy single Life, to make thee a double Dealer, which out of Question thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Cc2 388 Bene. Come, come, we are Friends, let's have a Dance e'er we are Marry'd, that we may lighten our own Hearts, and our Wives Heels. Leon. We'll have Dancing afterwards. Bene. First, of my Word; therefore play Musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a Wife, get thee a Wife, there is no Staff more reverend than one tipt with Horn. [Enter Mes.] Messen. My Lord, your Brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed Men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him 'till to Morrow, I'll devise the brave Punishments for him. Strike up Pipers. Dance. [Exeunt.] � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Rowe, 1709) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Nicholas Rowe. Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat gondozott átirata. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksmrwilliams02rowegoog Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1709 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Nicholas Rowe (szerkesztő) Zsirka Richárd (digitális átirat gondozója) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv pdf Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Könyv Digitális szöveg Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. THE WORKS OF Mr. William Shakespear; IN SIX VOLUMES. ADORN'D with CUTS. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe, Efq; LONDON: Printed for Jacob Tonson, within Grays-Inn Gate, next Grays-Inn Lane. MDCCIX. VOLUME the FIRST. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Nicholas Rowe Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1709 First Page 320 Genre Komédia Language angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 70 Number of Volumes 6 Pages 320-388 Place London Publisher Jacob Tonson Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Volume 1 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/f43f96cfd58a7e0b1af1388f1819171e.tif 6935df6025409ebed0413f2ae37c24c2 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Papír Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Rowe, 1709) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Nicholas Rowe. Az 1709-es kiadás képfájlban) Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális képfájl. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat feljavított változata. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksmrwilliams02rowegoog Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1709 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Nicholas Rowe (szerkesztő) Almási Zsolt (képfájl) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv tif Language A language of the resource Angol Type The nature or genre of the resource Komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Könyv Képfájl Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. THE WORKS OF Mr. William Shakespear; IN SIX VOLUMES. ADORN'D with CUTS. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe, Efq; LONDON: Printed for Jacob Tonson, within Grays-Inn Gate, next Grays-Inn Lane. MDCCIX. VOLUME the FIRST. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Nicholas Rowe Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1709 First Page 320 Genre Komédia Language Angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 76 Number of Volumes 6 Pages 320-388 Place London Publisher Jacob Tonson Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Volume 1 Digitális kép komédia Könyvtörténet Rowe Shakespeare Tonson https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/2ecf14148e35980c4c9df161b3a353c5.pdf cfbdcec42a538876c23b36ec05234b8f PDF Text Text Much Ado about Nothing Szerkesztette: Lewis Theobald ACT I. SCENE, a Court before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Hero, and Beatrice, with a Messenger. Leonato. Learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? Mess. But few of any Sort, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice it self, when the atchiever brings home full numbers; I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, call'd Claudio. Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself be- D d 2 �404 yond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better better'd expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not shew it self modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into tears? Mess. In great measure. Leon. A kind overflow of kindness; there are no faces truer than those that are so wash'd; how much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping? Beat. I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from the wars or no. Mess. I know none of that name, Lady; there was none such in the army of any Sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, Neice? Hero. My Cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. Mess. O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he �was. Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and challeng'd Cupid at the flight; and my Uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? but how many hath he kill'd? for, indeed, I promis'd to eat all of his killing. Leon. 'Faith, Neice, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good service, Lady, in these wars. Beat. You had musty victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent stomach. Mess. And a good soldier too, Lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady? but what is he to a lord? 405 Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stufft with all honourable virtues. Beat. It is so, indeed: (2) he is no less than a stuft �man: but for the stuffing, — well, we are all mortal. Leon. You must not, Sir, mistake my Neice; there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them. Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by That. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd with one: So that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? he hath every month a new sworn brother. Mess. Is it possible? Beat. Very easily possible; he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block. Mess. I see, Lady, the gentleman is not in your books. Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my Study. But, I pray you, who is his companion? is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. �Beat. O lord, he will hang upon him like a disease; he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught the Benedick; it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cur'd. D d 3 406 Mess. I will hold friends with you, Lady. Beat. Do, good friend. Leon. You'll ne'er run mad, Neice. Beat. No, not 'till a hot January. Mess. Don Pedro is approch'd. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and Don John. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. Pedro. You embrace yous charge too willingly: I think, this is your daughter. Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. �Bene. Were you in doubt, Sir, that you askt her? Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child. — Pedro. You have it full, Benedick; We may guess by this what you are, being a man: truly, the lady fathers her self; be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father. Bene. If Signior Leonato be her Father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder, that you will still be talking, Signior Benedict; no body marks you. Bene. What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? Beat. Is it possible, Disdain should die, while she hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesie it self must convert to Disdain, if you come in her presence. Bene. Then is courtesie a turn-coat; but it is certain, I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. 407 Beat. A dear happiness to women; they would else �have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me. Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were. Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. Bene. I would, my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer; but keep your way a God's name, I have done. Beat. You always end with a jade's trick; I know you of old. Pedro. This is the sum of all: Leonato, — Signior Claudio, and Signior Benedick, — my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all; I tell him, we shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartily prays, some occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear he is no hypocrite; but prays from his heart. Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. Let me bid You welcome, my lord, being �reconciled to the prince your brother; I owe you all duty. John. I thank you; I am not of many words, but I thank you. Leon. Please it your Grace lead on? Pedro. Your hand, Leonato we will go together. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio. Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? Bene. I noted her not, but I look'd on her. Claud. Is she not a modest young lady? Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? or would you have D d 4 408 me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? Claud. No, I pry'thee, speak in sober judgment. Bene. Why, i'faith, methinks, she is too low for an high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not �like her. Claud. Thou think'st, I am in sport; I pray thee, tell me truly how thou lik'st her. Bene. Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into; but speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the Song? Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that I ever look'd on. Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter; there's her Cousin, if she were not possest with such a Fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: but I hope, you have no intent to turn husband, have you? Claud. I would scarce trust my self, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. Bene. Is't come to this, in faith? hath not the world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion? shall I never see a batchelor of threescore again? go to, i'faith, if thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays: look, Don �Pedro is return'd to seek you. Re-enter Don Pedro and Don John. Pedro. What Secret hath held you here, that you follow'd not to Leonato's house? Bene. I would, your Grace would constrain me to tell. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. 409 Bene. You hear, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on my allegiance, mark you this, on my allegiance: — he is in love; with whom? now that is your Grace's part: mark, how short his answer is, with Hero, Leonato's short daughter. Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. Bene. Like the old tale, my lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so. Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. Pedro. Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is very well worthy. Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my Lord. �Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. Claud. And, in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine. Bene. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speak mine. Claud. That I love her, I feel. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me; I will die in it at the stake. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretick in the despight of beauty. Claud. And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will. Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks: but that I will have a recheate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me; because I will not do them the Wrong to mistrust any, I will do my self the Right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the which I may go the finer,) I will live a batchelor. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. �Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love: prove, that ever I lose more blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, 410 pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the Sign of blind Cupid. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and call'd Adam. (3) Pedro. Well, as time shall try; in time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. Bene. The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's-horns, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vilely painted; and in such great letters as they write, Here is good 411 Horse to hire, let them signifie under my Sign, Here you may see Benedick the marry'd man. Claud. If this should ever happen, thou would'st be horn-mad. �Pedro. Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. Bene. I look for an earthquake too then. Pedro. Well you will temporize with the hours; in the mean time, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for, indeed, he hath made great preparation. Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage, and so I commit you - Claud. To the tuition of God; From my house, if I had it, — Pedro. The sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedick. Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither: ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I leave you. [Exit. Claud. My Liege, your Highness now may do me good. Pedro. My love is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord? �Pedro. No child but Hero, she's his only heir: Dost thou affect her, Claudio? Claud. O my lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye; That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love; But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts Have left their places vacant; in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate Desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is; Saying, I lik'd her ere I went to wars. 412 Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently, And tire the hearer with a book of words: If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, And I will break with her: and with her Father, And Thou shalt have her: was't not to this end, That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love, That know love's grief by his complection! But left my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity; Look, what will serve, is fit; 'tis once, thou lov'st; �And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know, we shall have revelling to night; I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell fair Hero I am Claudio; And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart, And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale: Then, after, to her father will I break; And the conclusion is, she shall be thine; In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt. Re-enter Leonato and Antonio. Leon. How now, brother, where is my Cousin your son? hath he provided this musick? Ant. He is very busie about it; but, brother, I can tell you news that you yet dream'd not of. Leon. Are they good? Ant. As the event stamps them, but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in my orchard, were thus over-heard by a man of mine: The Prince discover'd to Claudio, that he lov'd my neice your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it. 413 �Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this? Ant. A good sharp fellow; I will send for him, and question him your self. Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a dream, 'till it appear it self: but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for answer, if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of it: Cousins, you know what you have to do. [Several cross the Stage here.] O, I cry you mercy, friend, go you with me and I will use your skill; good Cousin, have a care this busie time. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to an Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Don John and Conrade. Conr. What the good-jer, my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit. Conr. You should hear reason. John. And when I have heard it, what Blessing bringeth it? Conr. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. John. I wonder, that thou (being, as thou say'st: thou �art, born under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsie, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. Conr. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, 'till you may do it without controlement; you have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the fair weather that you make your self; it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. 414 John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this, (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing villain; I am trusted with a muzzel, and infranchised with a clog, therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. Conr. Can you make no use of your discontent? John. I will make all use of it, for I use it only. �Who comes here? what news, Borachio? Enter Borachio. Bora. I came yonder from a great supper; the Prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? what is he for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietnss? Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. John. Who, the most exquisite Claudio? Bora. Even he. John. A proper Squire! and who, and who? which way looks he? Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. John. A very forward March chick! How come you to this? Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed upon, that the Prince should woo Hero for himself; and having obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio. �John. Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my displeasure: that young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any 415 way, I bless my self every way; you are both sure, and will assist me. Conr. To the death, my lord. John. Let us to the great supper; their Cheer is the greater, that I am subdu'd; would the cook were of my mind! — Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE, a Hall in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret and Ursula. Leonato. Was not Count John here at Supper? Ant. I saw him not. �Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after. Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedick; the one is too like an image, and says nothing: and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tatling. Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face - Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, Uncle, and mony enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good Will. Leon. By my troth, Neice, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. Ant. In faith, she's too curst. 416 Beat. Too curst is more than curst; I shall lessen God's sending that way; for it is said, God sends a curst Cow short horns; but to a Cow too curst he sends none. Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. �Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which Blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening: Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lye in woollen. Leon. You may light upon a husband, that hath no beard. Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? he that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take six pence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell. Leon. Well then, go you into hell, - Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and say, "get you to heaven, Beatrice, get "you to heav'n, here's no place for you maids." so deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns; he shews me where the batchelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. Ant. Well, Neice, I trust, you will be rul'd by your father. [To Hero. Beat. Yes, faith, it is my Cousin's duty to make �curtsie, and say, Father, as it please you; but yet for all that, Cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases me. Leon. Well, Neice, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. Beat. Not 'till God make men of some other metal than earth; would it not grieve a woman to be over- 417 master'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make account of her life to a clod of way-ward marle? no, uncle, I'll none; Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told you; if the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your answer. Beat. The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if you be, not woo'd in good time; (4) If the Prince be too important, tell him, there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the Answer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace; the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly-modest, as a measure, full of state and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into his grave. �Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by day-light. Leon. The revellers are entring, brother; make good room. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend? Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk away. Pedro. With me in your company? Hero. I may say so, when I please. Pedro. And when please you to say so? Vol. I. E e 418 Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend, the lute should be like the case! Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. �Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd. 419 Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. Balth. Well; I would, you did like me. (6) Marg. So would not I for your own fake, for I have many ill qualities. Balth. Which is one? Marg. I say my Prayers aloud. Balth. I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen. Marg. God match me with a good dancer! Balth. Amen. Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done! Answer, Clerk. Balth. No more words, the clerk is answer'd. Urs. I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio. Ant. At a word, I am not. �Urs. I know you by the wagling of your head. Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he. Ant. At a word, I am not. Urs. Come, come, do you think, I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide it self? go to, mum, you are he; graces will appear, and there's an end. Beat. Will you not tell me, who told you so? Bene. No, you shall pardon me. Beat. Nor will you not tell me, who you are? Bene. Not now. Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good Wit out of the Hundred merry Tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that said so. Bene. What's he? E e 2. 420 �Beat. I am sure, you know him well enough. Bene. Not I, believe me. Beat. Did he never make you laugh? Bene. I pray you, what is he? Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jester; a very dull fool, only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him; I am sure, he is in the fleet; I would, he had boarded me. Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. Beat. Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Musick within. Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt. Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio. �John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: the ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. Bora. And that is Claudio; I know him by his Bearing. John. Are you not Signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well, I am he. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it. Claud. How know ye, he loves her? John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to night. 421 John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt John and Bor. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so, the Prince wooes for himself. �Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love; Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues, Let every eye negotiate for it self, And trust no agent; beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewel then, Hero! Enter Benedick. Bene. Count Claudio? Claud. Yea, the same. Bene. Come, will you go with me? Claud. Whither? Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an Usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a Lieutenant's scarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. Claud. I wish him joy of her. Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so they sell bullocks: but did you think, the Prince would have served you thus? �Claud. I pray you, leave me. Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit. Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowle! now will he creep into sedges. But that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! the Prince's fool! ha? it may be, I go under that Title, because I am merry; yea, but so I am apt to do my self wrong: I am not so reputed. It is the base (tho' bitter) disposition of E e 1 422 Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may. Enter Don Pedro. Pedro. Now, Signior, where's the Count? did you see him? Bene. Troth, my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the Will of this young lady, and I offer'd him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him �up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt. Pedro. To be whipt! what's his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who, being over-joy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer. Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestow'd on you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his bird's nest. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you. Bene. O, she misus'd me past the indurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been my self, that I was the Prince's jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw; hudling jest �423 upon jest, with such impassable conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me; she speaks Ponyards, and every word stabs; if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the North-Star; I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd; she would have made Hercules have turn'd Spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God, some scholar would conjure her; for, certainly, while she is here a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary, and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her. Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero. Pedro. Look, here she comes. Bene. Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any ambassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy; you have no employment for me? �Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. Bene. O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. I cannot indure this Lady Tongue. Pedro. Come, Lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed, my Lord, he lent it me a while, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for a single one; E e 4 424 marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say, I have lost it. Pedro. You have put him down, Lady, you have put him down. Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools: I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. Pedro. Why, how now, Count, wherefore are you sad? Claud. Not sad, my Lord. Pedro. How then? sick? �Claud. Neither, my Lord. Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil, Count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion. Pedro. I'faith, Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained; name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match, and all grace say, Amen, to it. Beat. Speak, Count, 'tis your cue. — Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away my self for you, and doat upon the exchange. Beat. Speak, Cousin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither. Pedro. In faith, Lady, you have a merry heart. Beat. Yea, my Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care; my cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart. �Claud. And so she doth, cousin. Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd; I may sit in a corner, and cry heigh ho! for a husband. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. 425 Beat. I would rather have one of your Father's getting: hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? your Father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. Pedro. Will you have me, Lady? Beat. No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working-days; your Grace is too costly to wear every day: but, I beseech your Grace, pardon me, I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. Beat. No, sure, my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a star danc'd, and under that I was born. Cousins, God give you joy. Leon. Neice, will you look to those things I told you of? �Beat. I cry you mercy, Uncle: by your Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited Lady. Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my Lord; she is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dream'd of an happiness, and wak'd her self with laughing. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. Leon. O, by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of suit. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. Leon. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? 426 Claud. To morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches, 'till love have all his rites. Leon. Not 'till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night, and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. �Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will in the Interim undertake one of Hercules's labours, which is to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other; I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. Leon. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings. Claud. And I, my Lord. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero. I will do any modest office, my Lord, to help my Cousin to a good husband. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far I can praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour your Cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will fo practise on Benedick, that in despight of his quick wit, and his queasie stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice: if we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be ours, for we are the only Love-Gods; go in with me, and I Will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. �SCENE changes to another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Don John and Borachio. John. It is so, the Count Claudio shall marry the Daughter of Leonato. Bora. Yea, my Lord, but I can cross it. 427 John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me; I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? Bora. Not honestly, my Lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. John. Shew me briefly how. Bora. I think, I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waitinggentlewoman to Hero. John. I remember. Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's chamber-window. �John. What life is in That, to be the death of this marriage? Bora. The poison of That lyes in you to temper; go you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his Honour in marrying the renown'd Claudio, (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated Stale, such a one as Hero. John. What proof shall I make of That? Bora. Proof enough, to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you for any other issue? John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. Bora. Go then find me a meet hour, to draw Don 428 Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them, that you know, Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, (as in a love of your Brother's honour who hath made this match;) and his friend's reputation, (who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of a maid,) that you have discover'd thus; they will hardly believe this without tryal: offer them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the in- �tended Wedding; for in the mean time I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truths of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousie shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thosand ducats. 429 Bora. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Leonato's Orchard. Enter Benedick, and a Boy. Bene. BOY, - Boy. Signior, Bene. In my chamber window lies a book, bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. I am here already, Sir. [Exit Boy. Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence, �and here again. — I do much wonder, that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love! and such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no musick with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the taber and the pipe; I have known, when he would have walk'd ten mile a-foot, to see a good armour; and now will he lye ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turn'd orthographer, his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool: one woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But 'till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; "wise, 430 "or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her: "fair, or I'll never look on her"; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdraws. �Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthazar. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this musick? Claud. Yea, my good lord; how still the evening is, As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? Claud. O very well, my lord; the musick ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander musick any more than once. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection; I pray thee, sing; and let me woo no more. Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes; Yet will he swear, he loves. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come; Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes. Balth. Note this before my notes, There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting. �Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks, Note, notes, forsooth, and noting. Bene, Now, divine air; now is his soul ravish'd! is it not strange, that sheeps guts should hale souls out 431 of mens bodies? well, a horn for my money, when all's done. The SONG. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blith and bonny; Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nony, nony. Sing no more ditties, sing no mo, Of dumps so dull and heavy; The frauds of men were ever so, Since summer was first leafy: Then sigh not so, &c. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. �Pedro. Ha, no; no, faith; thou sing'st well enough for a shift. Bene. If he had been a dog, that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him; and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief: I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent musick; for to morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamberwindow. Balth. The best I can, my lord. [Exit Balthazar. Pedro. Do so: farewel. Come hither, Leonato; what was it you told me of to day, that your Neice Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? Claud. O, ay; — stalk on, stalk on, the fowl sits. I did never think, that lady would have loved any man. 432 Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. Bene. Is't possible, sits the wind in that corner? [Aside. �Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. Claud. Faith, like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shews she? Claud. Bait the hook well, this fish will bite. [Aside. Leon. What effects, my lord? she will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. Claud. She did, indeed. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I would have thought, her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. Leon. I would have sworn, it had, my lord; especially against Benedick. Bene. [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. Claud. He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. [Aside. �Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? Leon. No, and swears she never will; that's her torment. Claud. 'Tis true, indeed, so your daughter says: shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him? Leon. This says she now, when she is beginning to write to him; for she'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she fit in her smock, 'till she have writ a sheet of paper; my daughter tells us all. Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. 433 Leon. O, — when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet. Claud. That. - Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; rail'd at her self, that she should be so immodest, to write to one that, she knew, wou'd flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own Spirit, for I should flout him if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should. �Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; O sweet Benedick! God give me patience! Leon. She doth, indeed, my daughter says so; and the ecstasie hath so much overborn her, that my daughter is sometime afraid, she will do desperate outrage to her self; it is very true. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. Pedro. If he should, it were an Alms to hang him; she's an excellent sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous. Claud. And she is exceeding wise. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. Pedro. I would, she had bestow'd this dotage on me; I would have dafft all other respects, and made her half Vol. I. Ff �434 half my self; I pray you, tell Benedick of it; and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks, surely she will die; for she says, she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustom'd crossness. Pedro. She doth well; if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible, he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. Claud. He is a very proper man. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and, in my mind, very wise. Pedro. He doth, indeed, shew some sparks that are like wit. Leon. And I take him to be valiant. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a christian-like fear. �Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. Pedro. And so will he do, for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your Neice: shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love? Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. Leon. Nay, that's impossible, she may wear her heart out first. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. Leon. My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Aside. 435 Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry; the sport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the Scene �that I would see, which will be meerly a Dumb Show; let us send her to call him to dinner. [Aside.] [Exeunt. Benedick advances from the Arbour. Bene. This can be no trick, the conference was sadly born; they have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited: I hear, how I am censur'd; they say, I will bear my self proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. — I did never think to marry — I must not seem proud — happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear, them witness: and virtuous; — 'tis so, I cannot reprove it: and wise, but for loving me — by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her. — I may chance to have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quipps and sentences, and these paperbullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? no: the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a batchelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day, she's a fair lady; I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter Beatrice. �Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. F f 2 436 Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come. Bene. You take pleasure then in the message. Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no stomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit. Bene. Ha! against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner: — there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me; — that's as much as to say, any pains that I take for you is as easie as thanks. if I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her Picture. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE continues in the Orchard. �Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour, There shalt thou find my Cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio; Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleached Bower, Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the Sun, Forbid the Sun to enter; like to Favourites, Made proud by Princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her, To listen our Propose, this is thy office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. 437 Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, presently. [Exit. Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down, Our Talk must only be of Benedick; When I do name him, let it be thy Part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My Talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice; of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hear-say: now begin. Enter Beatrice, running towards the Arbour. �For look, where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Close by the ground to hear our conference. Ursu. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait; So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now Is couched in the woodbine-coverture; Fear you not my part of the dialogue. Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. — No, truly, Ursula, she's too disdainful; I know, her spirits are as coy and wild, As haggerds of the rock. Ursu. But are you sure, That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely? Hero. So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. Ursu. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it; But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrastle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Ursu. Why did you so? doth not the Gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deserve �As much as may be yielded to a man: But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. F f 3 438 Disdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Mis-prizing what they look on; and her wit Values it self so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak; she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-indeared. Ursu. Sure, I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, But she would spell him backward; if fair-fac'd, She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed, If low, an Aglet very vilely cut; 439 If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns me every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue That, �Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. Ursu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No; for to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? if I should speak, She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me Out of my self, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly; It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling. Ursu. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say. Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my Cousin with; one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking. Ursu. O, do not do your Cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment, (Having so swift and excellent a wit, As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Benedick. Hero. He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. Ursu. I pray you, be not angry with me, Madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, �F f 4 440 For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, Goes formost in report through Italy. Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. Ursu. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam? Hero. Why, every day; to morrow; come, go in, I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to morrow. Ursu. She's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught her, Madam. Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupids kill with arrows, Some with traps. [Exeunt. Beatrice, advancing. Beat. What fire is in my ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn so much? Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee; Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; �If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say, thou dost deserve; and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. SCENE, Leonato's House. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. I Do but stay 'till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. Pedro. Nay, That would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the soale of his foot, he is all 'mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, 441 and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So say I; methinks, you are sadder. �Claud. I hope, he is in love. Pedro. Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; if he be sad, he wants mony. Bene. I have the tooth-ach. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it. Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach! Leon. Which is but a humour, or a worm. Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutch man to day, a French man to morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, a German from the waste downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is. �Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs; he brushes his hat o'mornings; what should that bode? Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's? Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuft tennis-balls. Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet; can you smell him out by that? Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. 442 Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face? Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him. Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string and now govern'd by stops — Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, he is in love. �Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not. Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him. Pedro. She shall be bury'd with her heels upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old Signior, walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wise words to speak to you which these hobbyhorses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another, when they meet. 443 Enter Don John. John. My Lord and brother, God save you. Pedro. Good den, brother. John. If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. Pedro. In private? �John. If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear; for, what I would speak of, concerns him. Pedro. What's the matter? John. Means your lordship to be marry'd to morrow? [To Claudio. Pedro. You know, he does. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, discover it. John. You may think, I love you not, let that appear hereafter; and aim better at me by That I now will manifest; for my brother, I think, he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage; surely, Suit ill spent, and Labour ill bestow'd! Pedro. Why, what's the matter? John. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyal. Claud. Who? Hero? John. Even she, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. �Claud. Disloyal? John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it; wonder not 'till further warrant; go but with me to night, you shall see her chamber-window enter'd, even the night before her wedding day; if you love her, then to morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. Claud. May this be so? Pedro. I will not think it. 444 John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know; if you will follow me, I will shew you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. Claud. If I see any thing to night why I should not marry her to morrow; in the Congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. John. I will disparage her no farther, 'till you are my witnesses; bear it coldly but 'till night, and let the issue shew it self. �Pedro. O day untowardly turned! Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting! John. O plague right well prevented! So will you say, when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Street. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch. Dogb. ARE you good men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's Watch. Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. Dogb. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? 1 Watch. Hugh Oatecake, Sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read. Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacole: God hath �blest you with a good name; and to be a well-favour'd man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. 2 Watch. Both which, master constable — Dogb. You have: I knew, it would be your answer. Well, for your Favour, Sir, why, give God thanks, 445 and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity: you are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the Constable of the Watch, therefore bear you the lanthorn; this is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand in the Prince's name. 2 Watch. How if he will not stand ? Dogb. Why, then take no note of him, but let him go ; and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's Subjects. Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's Subjects : you shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the Watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endur'd. �2 Watch. We will rather sleep, than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch. Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how Sleeping should offend; only have a care that your Bills be not stolen: well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed. 2 Watch. How if they will not ? Dogb. Why, then let them alone 'till they are sober; if they make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not the men you took them for. 2 Watch. Well, Sir. Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him by vertue of your office to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. 2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? Dogb. Truly, by your office you mays; but, I think, they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your company. 446 �Verg. You have been always call'd a merciful man, Partner. Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 2. Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Dogb. Why, then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats. Verg. 'Tis very true. Dogb. This is the end of the charge: you, constable, are to present the Prince's own person; if you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him. Verg. Nay, birlady, that, I think, he cannot. Dogb. Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the Statues, he may stay him; marry, not without the Prince be willing: for, indeed, the Watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. Verg. Birlady, I think, it be so. Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! well, masters, good night; an �there be any matter of weight chances, call up me; keep your fellow's counsels and your own, and good night; come, neighbour. 2. Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge; let us go sit here upon the church-bench 'till two, and then all to bed. Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the Wedding being there to morrow, there is a great coil to night; adieu; be vigilant, I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. Enter Borachio and Conrade. Bora. What? Conrade,-- Watch. Peace, stir not. [Aside. Bora. Conrade, I say. 447 Conr. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. Bora. Mass, and my elbow itch'd, I thought there would a scab follow. Conr. I will owe thee an answer for that, and now forward with thy tale. �Bora. Stand thee close then under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch Some treason, masters; yet stand close. Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. Conr. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible any villany should be so rich? for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. Conr. I wonder at it. Bora. That shews, thou art unconfirm'd; thou knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak is nothing to a man. Conr. Yes, it is apparel. Bora. I mean, the fashion. Conr. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Bora. Tush, I may as well say, the fool's the fool; but seest thou not, what a deformed thief this fashion is? �Watch. I know that Deformed, he has been a vile thief this seven years;he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. Bora. Didst thou not hear some body? Conr. No, 'twas the vane on the house. Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hotbloods between fourteen and five and thirty; sometimes fashioning them like Pharao's soldiers in the reachy painting; sometimes, like the God Bel's priests in the old church-window; sometimes, like the shaven Hercules in the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massie as his club. 448 Conr. All this I see, and see, that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man;but art not thou thy self giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ? Bora. Not so neither; but know, that I have to night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber- window, bids me a thousand times, good night — I tell this tale vildly — I should first tell thee, how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed, and possessed by my master Don John, saw a far off in the orchard this amiable encounter. �Conr. And thought they, Margaret was Hero ? Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew, she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possest them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore, he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the Temple, and there before the whole Congregation shame her with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again without a husband. 1 Watch. We charge you in the Prince's name, stand. 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable; we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the common-wealth. 1 Watch, And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock. Conr. Masters, masters, — 449 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Conr. Masters,--- 1 Watch. Never speak ; we charge you, let us obey �you to go with us. Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these mens bills. Conr. A commodity in question, I warrant you : come, we'll obey you. \Exeunt. SCENE, Hero's Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula. Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. Ursu. I will, lady. Hero. And bid her come hither. Ursu. Well. Marg. Troth, I think, your other Rebato were better. Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. Marg. By my troth, it's not so good; and, I warrant, your cousin will say so. Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a �most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the Dutchess of Milan 's gown, that they praise so. Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours; cloth of gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves and skirts, round, underborn with a blueish tinsel ; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy! Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. VoL: I, G g 450 Hero. Fie upon thee, art not asham'd? Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think, you would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a husband? none, I think, if it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes. �Enter Beatrice. Hero. Good morrow, coz. Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. Hero. Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune? Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. Marg. Clap us into Light o'love; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. Beat. Yes, Light o'love with your heels; then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns. Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready : by my troth, I am exceeding ill ; hey ho ! Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. Beat. What means the fool, trow? �Marg. Nothing I, but God send every one their heart's desire! Hero. These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. Beat. I am stuft, cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuft! there's goodly catching of cold. Beat. O, God help me, God help me, how long have you profest apprehension? Marg. Ever since you left it; doth not my wit become me rarely? 451 Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm. Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus? why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning, I meant plain holy-thistle: you may think, perchance, that I think you are in love; nay, birlady, �I am not such a fool to think what I lift; nor I lift not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man; he swore, he would never marry; and yet now, in despight of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted, I know not; but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? Marg. Not a false gallop. Ursu. Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the Gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church. Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt. SCENE, another Apartment in Leonato's House Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour? Dogb. Marry, Sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly. Leon. Brief, I pray you; for, you see, 'tis a busy time �with me. Gg2 452 Dogb. Marry, this it is, Sir. Ver. Yes, in truth it is, Sir. Leon. What is it, my good friends? Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter; an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were, but, in faith, as honest as the skin between his brows. Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. Dogb. Comparisons are odorous; palabras, neighbour Verges. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Dogb. It pleases your worship to fay so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ha? Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than �'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and tho' I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. Verg. And so am I. Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, Sir, our Watch to night, excepting your worship's presence, hath ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves, as any in Messina. Dogb. A good old man, Sir; he will be talking, as they say; when the age is in, the wit is out; God help us, it is a world to see: well said, i'faith, neighbour Verges, well, he's a good man; an two men ride an horse, one must ride behind; an honest foul, i'faith, Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God is to be worship'd; all men are not alike, alas, good neighbour! Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts, that God gives. Leon. I must leave you. Dogb. One word, Sir ; our Watch have, indeed, comprehended two auspicious persons; and we would have them this morning examin'd before your worship. 453 �Leon. Take their examination your self, and bring it me; I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. Dogb. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Ex. Leon. Dogb. Go, good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant; here's That shall drive some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the Jail. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE, a Church. Enter D.Pedro, D.John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice. �Leonato COME, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. Friar. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady? Claud. No. Leon. To be marry'd to her, friar; you come to marry her. G g 3 454 Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count? Hero. I do. Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your souls to utter it. Claud. Know you any, Hero ? Hero. None, my Lord. Friar. Know you any, Count? Leon. I dare make his answer, none. �Claud. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! not knowing what they do! Bene. How now! Interjections? why, then some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he! Claud. Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave; Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid your daughter? Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness: There, Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She's but the sign and semblance of her honour: Behold, how like a maid she blushes here! O, what authority and shew of truth Can cunning sin cover it self withal! Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, To witness simple virtue? would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid, By these exterior shews? but she is none : She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. �Leon. What do you mean, my Lord ? Claud. Not to be marry'd, Not knit my soul to an approved Wanton. 455 Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own approof (16) Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity--- Claud. I know what you would say: if I have known her, You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large; But, as a brother to his sister, shew'd Bashful sincerity, and comely love. Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy Seeming! I will write against it; You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown: But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals That rage in savage sensuality. Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide? Leon. Sweet Prince, why speak not you? �Pedro. What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common Stale. Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This looks not like a Nuptial. Hero. True! O God! Claud. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother? Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? G g 4 456 Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my lord? Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Hero. O God defend me, how am I beset! What kind of catechizing call you this ? �Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any just reproach? Claud. Marry, that can Hero; Hero her self can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord. Pedro. Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry, you must hear; upon mine Honour, My self, my Brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a russian at her chamber-window; Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, Not to be spoken of; There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been plac'd About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart? But fare thee well, most soul, most fair ! farewel, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! �For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall Conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm; And never shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? 457 Beat. Why, how now, Cousin, wherefore sink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exe. D.Pedro, D. John and Claud. Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think; help, uncle. Hero! why, Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick! friar! Leon. O fate! take not away thy heavy hand; Death is the fairest cover for her shame, That may be wish'd for. Beat. How now, cousin Hero? Friar. Have comfort. Lady. Leon. Dost thou look up ? �Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore? why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood? Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I think, thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I, thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, My self would en the rereward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for That at frugal nature's frame? I've one too much by thee. Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not, with charitable hand, Took up a beggar's issue at my gates? Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamy, I might have said, no part of it is mine; This shame derives it self from unknown loins : But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much, That I my self was to my self not mine, Valuing of her; why, she — O, she is fall'n Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; And salt too little, which may season give To her soul tainted flesh! 458 Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient; For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, I know not what to say. �Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is bely'd. Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? Beat. No, truly, not; altho' until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, That is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron. Would the two Princes lie? and Claudio lie? Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? hence from her, let her die. Friar. Hear me a little, For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady. I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness bear away those blushes; And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, To burn the errors that these Princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool, Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenour of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here, Under some biting error. Leon. Friar, it cannot be; Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, �Is, that she will not add to her damnation A sin of perjury; she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse That, which appears in proper nakedness? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know none: If I know more of any man alive, Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy. O my father, 459 Prove you that any man with me convers'd At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. Friar. There is some strange misprision in the Princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour, And if their wisdoms be mis-led in this, The Practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. Leon. I know not: if they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour. The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dry'd this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havock of my means, Nor my bad life rest me so much of friends, �But they shall find awak'd, in such a kind, Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly. Friar. Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the Princes left for dead; Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead, indeed: Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family's old Monument 460 Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do? Friar. Marry, this, well carry'd, shall on her behalf Change slander to remorse; that is some good: But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travel look for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Upon the instant that she was accus'd, Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd, Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, (18) Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and loft, Why, then we rack the value; then we find The virtue that possession would not shew us Whilst it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio: �When he shall hear she dy'd upon his words, Th' idea of her Life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit; More moving, delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest: in his liver, And with, he had not so accused her ; No, though he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not, but success Will fashion the event in better shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all Aim but this be levell'd false, The supposition of the lady's death 461 Will quench the wonder of her infamy. And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: And though, you know, my inwardness and love Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly, as your soul Should with your body. Leon. Being that I slow in grief, �The smallest twine may lead me. Friar. 'Tis well consented, presently away; For to strange sores, strangely they strain the cure. Come, lady, die to live; this wedding day, Perhaps, is but prolong'd : have patience and endure. [Exeunt. Manent Benedick and Beatrice. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that. Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe, your fair cousin is wrong'd. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man do it? Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange ? �Beat. As strange as the thing I know not; it were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you; but believe me not; and yet I lye not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it. 462 Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word? Bene. With no sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest, I love thee. Beat. Why then, God forgive me. Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? Beat. You have stay'd me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I lov'd you. Bene. And do it with all thy heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. �Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to deny; farewel. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love in you; nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice,-- Beat. In faith, I will go. Bene. We'll be friends first. Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my kinswoman! O that I were a man! what bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with publick accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated rancour — O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. Bene. Hear me, Beatrice. �Beat. Talk with a man out at a window? — a proper saying! Bene. Nay, but Beatrice. Beat. Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone. Bene. Beat-- 463 Beat. Princes and Counts! surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect, a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! but manhood is melted into curtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. Bene. Tarry good Beatrice; by this hand, I love thee. Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. Bene. Think you in your soul, the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero ? Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him, �I will kiss your hand, and so leave you; by this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your cousin; I must say, she is dead, and so farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to a Prison. Enter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the Town-Clerk and Sexton in Gowns. To.Cl. Is our whole dissembly appear'd? Dog. O, a stool and a cushion for the Sexton! Sexton. Which be the malefactors? Verg. Marry, that am I and my Partner. Dog. Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine. Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examin'd ? let them come before master constable. To.Cl. Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is your name, friend? Bora. Borachio. To.Cl. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, Sirrah? Conr. I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade. �464 To. Cl. Write down, master gentleman Conrade; masters, do you serve God? Both. Yea, Sir, we hope. (19) To. Cl. Write down, that they hope they serve God: and write God first: for God defend, but God should go before such villains. — Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly; how answer you for your selves ? Com. Marry, Sir, we say, we are none. To. Cl. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah, a word in your ear, Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are both false knaves. Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. To. Cl. Well, stand aside; 'fore God, they are both in a tale; have you writ down, that they are none? Sexton. Master town-clerk, you go not the way to examine, you must call the watch that are their accusers. To.Cl. Yea, marry, that's the deftest way, let �465 the Watch come forth; masters, I charge you in the Prince's name accuse these men. Enter Watchmen. 1 Watch. This man said, Sir, that Don John the Prince's brother was a villain. To. Cl. Write down, Prince John a villain; why this is flat perjury, to call a Prince's brother villain. Bora. Master town-clerk, --- To. Cl. Pray thee, fellow, peace; I do not like thy look, I promise thee. Sexton. What heard you him say else? 2 Watch. Marry, that he had receiv'd a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully. To.Cl. Flat burglary, as ever was committed. Dog. Yea, by th'mass, that it is. Sexton. What else fellow? 1 Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. �To. Cl. O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for this. Sexton. What else? 2 Watch. This is all. Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stoll'n away : Hero was in this manner accus'd, and in this very manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master Constable, let these men be bound and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their examination. [Exit. Dog. Come, let them be opinion'd. Conr. Let them be in the hands of Coxcomb! Vol. I. H h 466 Dog. God's my life, where's the Sexton? let him write down the Prince's officer Coxcomb: come, bind them, thou naughty varlet. Conr. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.--- Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect: my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! but, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though �it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass; no, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness; I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer; and which is more, an housholder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knows the law; go to, and a rich fellow enough; go to, and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him; bring him away; O that I had been writ down an ass!— — [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE, before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio. Antonio. IF you go on thus, you will kill yourself; And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against your self. Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve; give not me counsel, Nor let no Comforter delight mine ear, But such a one whose wrongs do suite with mine. Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, And bid him speak of patience; 467 �Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain: As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape and form; If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And Sorrow wage; cry, hem! when he should groan Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage; Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ach with air, and agony with words. No, no; 'tis all mens office to speak patience H h 2 468 To those, that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no counsel; My griefs cry louder than advertisement. Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ. Leon. I pray thee, peace; I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ach patiently; �However they have writ the style of Gods, And made a pish at chance and sufferance. Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon your self: Make those, that do offend you, suffer too. Leon. There thou speak'st reason; nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me, Hero is bely'd; And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince; And all of them, that thus dishonour her. Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio. Ant. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. Pedro. Good den, good den. Claud. Good day to both of you. Leon. Hear you, my lords ? Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. 469 Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lordAre you so hasty now? well, all is one. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lye low. �Claud. Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou! Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, I fear thee not. Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear; In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me; I speak not like a dotard nor a fool; As, under privilege of age, to brag What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old: know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent child and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by; And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to tryal of a man; I say, thou hast bely'd mine innocent child, Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lyes bury'd with her ancestors, O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany! Claud. My villany? Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. Pedro. You say not right, old man. Leon. My lord, my lord, �I'll prove it on his body, if he dare; Despight his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you. Leon. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kill'd my child; H h 3 470 If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed; But that's no matter, let him kill one first; Win me and wear me, let him answer me; Come, follow me, boy; come, boy, follow me; Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. Leon. Brother,--- Ant. Content your self; God knows, I lov'd my Niece; And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man, indeed, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! Leon. Brother Anthony,--- �Ant. Hold you content; what, man? I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple: Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mongring boys, That lye, and cog, and slout, deprave and slander. Go antickly, and show an outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, (25) How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; And this is all. Leon. But, brother Anthony,--- Ant. Come, 'tis no matter; 471 Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; But, on my Honour, she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. Leon. My lord, my lord--- Pedro. I will not hear you. Leon. No! come, brother, away, I will be heard. Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it. [Exe. ambo. �Enter Benedick. Pedro. See, see, here comes the man we went to seek. Claud. Now, Signior, what news? Bene. Good day, my lord. Pedro. Welcome, Signior; you are almost come to part almost a fray. Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth. Pedro. Leonato and his brother; what think'st thou? had we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young for them. Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour: I came to seek you both. Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholly, and would fain have it beaten away: wilt thou use thy wit? Bene. It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it? Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us. �Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale: art thou sick or angry ? Claud. What! courage, man: what tho' care kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if you charge it against me.— I pray you, chuse another subject. 472 Claud. Nay, then give him another staff; this last was broke cross. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more: I think, he be angry, indeed. Claud, If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear? Claud. God bless me from a challenge! Bene. You are a villain; I jest not. I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardise. You have kill'd a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. �Pedro. What, a feast? Claud. I' faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calves-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say, my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. Pedro. I'll tell thee, how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day : I said, thou hadst a line wit; right, says she, a fine little one; no, faid I, a great wit; just, said she, a great gross one; nay, faid I, a good wit ; just, said she, it hurts no body; nay, said I, the gentleman is wise; certain, said she, a wise gentleman; nay, said I, he hath the tongues; that I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two tongues. Thus did she an hour together trans-shape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she con- eluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said she car'd not. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly; the old man's daughter told us all. Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden. �473 Pedro. But when shall we set the salvage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head? Claud. Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the married man. Bene. Fare you well, boy, you know my mind; I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thank'd, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you; I must discontinue your company; your brother the bastard is sled from Messina; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my lord lack-beard there, he and I shall meet; and 'till then, peace be with him. [Exit Benedick. Pedro. He is in earnest. Claud. In most profound earnest, and, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee ? Claud. Most sincerely. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit! Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded. �Claud. He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. Pedro. But, soft you, let me see, pluck up my heart and be sad; did he not say, my brother was fled? Dogb. Come you, Sir, if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio, one? Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done? Dogb. Marry, Sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have bely'd a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves. 474 Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and to conclude, what you lay to their charge? Claud. Rightly reason'd, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. �Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence? Bora. Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this Count kill me: I have deceiv'd even your very eyes; what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incens'd me to slander the lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgrac'd her, when you should marry her; my villany they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my shame; the Lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation; and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? Claud. I have drunk poison, while he utter'd it. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this? Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery; And sled he is upon this villany. �Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs; by this time our Sexton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the matter, and masters, do not forget to specifie, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. Verg. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato; and the Sexton too. 475 Enter Leonato, and Sexton. Leon. Which is the villain? let me see his eyes; That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him; which of these is he ? Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me. Leon. Art thou, art thou the slave, that with thy breath Has kill'd mine innocent child ? Bora. Yea, even I alone. Leon. No, not so, villain ; thou bely'st: thy self; Here stand a pair of honourable men, A third is fled, that had a hand in it : I thank you, Princes, for my daughter's death; Record it with your high and worthy deeds; 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. �Claud. I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speak: chuse your revenge your self, Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking. Pedro. By my soul, nor I; And yet to satisfie this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight, That he'll enjoyn me to. Leon. You cannot bid my daughter live again, That were impossible; but, I pray you both, Possess the People in Messina here How innocent she dy'd; and if your love Can labour ought in sad invention; Hang her an Epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones, sing it to night: To morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that's dead, And she alone is heir to both of us; Give her the Right you should have given her Cousin, And so dies my revenge. 476 Claud. O noble Sir! Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me: I do embrace your offer; and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. �Leon. To morrow then I will expect your Coming, To night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother. Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me. But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her. Dogb. Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembred in his punishment and also the watch heard them 477 talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's fake. Pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. Dogb. Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy pains. �Dogb. God save the foundation! Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner; and I thank thee. Dogb. I leave an errant knave with your Worship, which, I beseech your Worship, to correct your self, for the example of others. God keep your Worship; I with your Worship well: God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. Come, neighbour. [Exeunt. Leon. Until to morrow morning, Lords, farewel. Ant. Farewel, my Lords; we look for you to morrow. Pedro. We will not fail. Claud. To night I'll mourn with Hero. Leon. Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt severally. SCENE changes to Leonato's House. Enter Benedick, and Margaret. Bene. PRAY thee, sweet mistress Margaret , deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the �speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty ? Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deserved it. 478 Marg. To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep above stairs? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's soils, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers. Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them, Margaret,you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. [Exit Margaret. �Bene. And therefore will come. [Sings] The God of love, that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, — I mean, in singing; but in loving, Lander the good swimmer, Troilus the first: employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse; why, they were never so truly turn'd over and over, as my poor self in love; marry, I cannot shew it in rhime; I have try'd; I can find out no rhime to lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for scorn, horn,a hard rhime; for school, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, would'nt thou come when I call thee? 479 Beat. Yea, Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O,stay but 'till then. Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath past between you and Claudio. Bene. Only soul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. ' Beat. Soul words are but soul wind, and soul wind �is but soul breath, and soul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of its right sense, so forcible is thy wit; but, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward; and, I pray thee, now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first sufFer love for me? Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet j I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In spight of your heart, I think; alas ! poor heart, if you spight it for my fake, I will spight it for yours; for I will never love that, which my friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wife to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confession; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps. �Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question? — why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the wife, if Don worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to my self; so much for prais- 480 ing my self; who, I my self will bear witness, is praise- worthy; and now tell me, how doth your Cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. Bene, Serve God, love me, and mend there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula. Ursu. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home ; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd; and Don John is the author of all, who is fed and gone : will you come presently ? Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior? �Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy heart; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle, [Exeunt. SCENE changes to a Church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers, Claud. IS this the monument of Leonato? Atten. It is, my lord. EPITAPH. Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero, that here lyes: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life, that dy'd with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. Claud. Now musick sound, and sing your solemn hymn. 481 SONG. Pardon, Goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight; For the which with songs of woe, �Round about her tomb they go. Midnight, assist our moan; Help us to sigh and groan Heavily, heavily: Graves, yawn and yield your dead, 'Till death be uttered, Heavily, heavily. Claud. Now unto thy bones good night; Yearly will I do this Rite. Pedro. Good morrow, masters, put your torches out, The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie east with spots of grey; Thanks to you all, and leave us , fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt. 482 SCENE changes to Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero. �Friar. DID I not tell you, she was innocent? Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her, Upon the error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some fault for this; Although against her will, as it appears, In the true course of all the question. Ant. Well; I am glad, that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well, Daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by your selves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd : The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit me; you know your office, brother, You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirmed countenance. Bene. Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, Signior? Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them : Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis mod true. �Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The fight whereos, I think, you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will? Bene. Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical; But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd I' th' state of honourable marriage; In which, good Friar, I shall desire your help. 483 Leon. My heart is with your liking. Friar. And my help. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, Prince , good morrow, Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To day to marry with my brother's daughter? Claud. I'll hold my mind, were the an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready. [Exit Antonio. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the �matter, That you have such a February-face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness ? Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull: tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee; As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow; And got a calf, in that same noble feat, Much like to you; for you have just his bleat. Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula, mask'd. Claud. For this I owe you; here come other reck- nings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? Anto. This fame is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine: Sweet, let me see your face. Leon. No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand Before this Friar, and swear to marry her. 484 �Claud. Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband if you like of me. Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife. [Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero? Hero. Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live; And, surely, as I live, I am a maid. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead! Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. Friar. All this amazement can I qualifie. When, after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death : Mean time let wonder seem familiar, And to the chappel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that name; what is your will? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. Why, no; no more than reason. �Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did. Beat. Do not you love me? Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason. Beat. Why, then my Cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, Have been deceiv'd ; for they did swear, you did. Bene. They swore, you were almost sick for me. Beat. They swore, you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence. 485 Leon. Come, Cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. Hero. And here's another, Writ in my Cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I �take thee for pity. Beat.I would yet deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life;for as I was told, you were in a consumption. Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.--- [Kissing her. 486 Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of wittcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee ; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin. Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look �exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends; let's have a Dance ere we are marry 'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. 487 Enter Messenger. Mess. My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him 'till to morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers. [Dance. [Exeunt omnes. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> Subject The topic of the resource A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói Description An account of the resource A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Almási Zsolt Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Almási Zsolt Language A language of the resource magyar és angol Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Könyv Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Much Ado About Nothing (Theobald, 1733) Subject The topic of the resource 18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Lewis Theobald Description An account of the resource 18. századi digitális, gondozott betűhív átirat. Az Internet Archive-ban található szövegváltozat gondozott átirata Theobald jegyzetei nélkül Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Shakespeare Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived https://archive.org/details/worksofshakespe01shak Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Internet Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1733 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Lewis Theobald (szerkesztő) Papp Gréta (digitális átirat gondozása) Dobos Bence (digitális átirat gondozása) Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Könyv pdf Language A language of the resource angol Type The nature or genre of the resource komédia License A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource. Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. Digitális szöveg Bibliographic Citation A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible. THE / WORKS / OF / SHAKESPEARE: / IN / SEVEN VOLUMES. / Collated with the Olde∫t Copies, and Corrected; / With NOTES, Explanatory, and Critical: / By Mr. THEOBALD. / I, Decus, i, no∫trum: melioribus utere Fatis. Virg. / LONDON: / Printed for A. BETTESWORTH and C. HITCH, J TONSON, F. CLAY, W. FEALES, / and R. WELLINGTON. / MDCCXXXIII. / VOLUME the FIRST. Zotero Author William Shakespeare Editor Lewis Theobald Artwork Medium Digitális könyv Book Title Much Ado About Nothing Date 1733 First Page 401 Genre Komédia Language angol Medium Könyv Num Pages 84 Number of Volumes 1 Pages 401-487 Place London Publisher Bettesworth, A., Hitch, C., T. Tonson, J., Clay, F., Feales, W., Wellington, R Rights Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható. Volume 1 https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/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