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Enter Leonato gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero
his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, with a
messenger.
Leonato.
I Learne in this letter, that don Peter of Arragon
comes this night to Messina.
Mess. He is very neare by this, he was not three
leagues off when I left him.
Leona. How many gentlemen haue you lost in this action?
Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name.
Leona. A victory is twice it selfe, when the atchiuer brings
home ful numbers: I find here, that don Peter hath bestowed
much honour on a yong Florentine called Claudio.
Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred
by don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the promise of
his age, doing in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion, he hath
indeed better bettred expectation then you must expect of me
to tell you how.
Leo. He hath an vnckle here in Messina will be very much
glad of it.
Mess. I haue already deliuered him letters, and there appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could not shew
itselfe modest enough, without a badge of bitternesse.
Leo. Did he breake out into teares?
Mess. In great measure.
Leo. A kind ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces truer
then those that are so washt, how much better is it to weepe at
ioy, then to ioy at weeping?
Beatr. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returnd from the
warres or no?
Messen. I know none of that name, ladie, there was none
�such in the army of any sort.
Leonato What is he that you aske for neece?
Hero My cosen meanes Signior Benedicke of Padua.
Mess. O hee's returnd, and as pleasant as euer he was.
Bea. He set vp his bills here in Messina, and challengde
Cupid at the Flight, and my vncles foole reading the chalenge
subscribde for Cupid, and challengde him at the Burbolt: I
pray you, how many hath he kild and eaten in these warres?
but how many hath he kild? for indeede I promised to eate all
of his killing.
Leo. Faith neece you taxe Signior Benedicke too much,
but heele be meet with you, I doubt it not.
Mess. He hath done good seruice lady in these warres.
Beat. You had musty vittaile, and he hath holpe to eate it,
he is a very valiaunt trencher man, he hath an excellent stomacke.
Mess. And a good souldier too, lady.
Beat. And a good souldiour to a Lady, but what is he to a
Lord?
Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stufft with al honorable vertues.
Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man, but for
the stuffing wel, we are al mortall.
Leo. You must not, sir, mistake my neece, there is a kind
of mery warre betwixt Signior Benedicke and her, they neuer
meet but there's a skirmish of wit betweene them.
Beat. Alas he gets nothing by that, in our last conflict, 4 of his
fiue wits went halting off, and now is the whole man gouernd
with one, so that if he haue wit enough to keep himself warm,
let him beare it for a difference between himself and his horse,
for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasona-
�ble creature, who is his companion now? he hath euery month
a new sworne brother.
Mess. Ist possible?
Beat. Very easily possible, he weares his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with the next blocke.
Mess. I see lady the gentleman is not in your bookes.
Beat. No, and he were, I would burne my study, but I pray
you who is his companion? is there no yong squarer now that
will make a voyage with him to the diuell?
Mess. He is most in the companie of the right noble Claudio.
Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease, hee is
sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently madde, God help the noble Claudio, if he haue caught the
Benedict, it will cost him a thousand pound ere a be cured.
Mess. I will holde friends with you Ladie.
Beat. Do good friend.
Leon. You will neuer runne madde niece.
Beat. No, not till a hote Ianuary.
Mess. Don Pedro is approacht.
Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar
and Iohn the bastard.
Pedro Good signior Leonato, are you come to meet your
trouble: the fashion of the world is, to auoyd cost, and you incounter it.
Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house, in the likenesse of
your grace, for trouble being gone, comfort should remaine:
but when you depart from mee, sorrow abides, and happines
takes his leaue.
Pedro You embrace your charge too willingly: I thincke
this is your daughter.
�Leonato Her mother hath many times tolde me so.
Bened. Were you in doubt sir that you askt her?
Leonato Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a child.
Pedro You haue it full Benedicke, wee may ghesse by this,
what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her selfe:
be happy Lady, for you are like an honourable father.
Be. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not haue
his head on her shoulders for all Messina as like him as she is.
Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedicke, no body markes you.
Bene. What my deere lady Disdaine! are you yet liuing?
Bea. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while she hath such
meete foode to feede it, as signior Benedicke? Curtesie it selfe
must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in her presence.
Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine I am
loued of all Ladies, onelie you excepted: and I would I could
finde in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truely I loue
none.
Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else haue
beene troubled with a pernitious suter, I thanke God and my
cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I had rather heare
my dog barke at a crow, than a man sweare he loues me.
Bene. God keepe your Ladiship stil in that mind, so some
Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face.
Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and twere such
a face as yours were.
Bene. Well, you are a rare parrat teacher.
Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of yours.
Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and
so good a continuer, but keep your way a Gods name, I haue
done.
�Beat. You alwayes end with a iades tricke, I knowe you of
olde.
Pedro That is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio,
and signior Benedicke, my deere friend Leonato, hath inuited
you all, I tell him we shall stay here, at the least a moneth, and
he heartily praies some occasion may detaine vs longer, I dare
sweare he is no hypocrite, but praies from his heart.
Leon. If you sweare, my lord, you shall not be forsworne,
let mee bidde you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the
Prince your brother: I owe you all duetie.
Iohn I thanke you, I am not of many wordes, but I thanke
you
Leon. Please it your grace leade on?
Pedro Your hand Leonato, we wil go together.
Exeunt. Manent Benedicke & Claudio.
Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of Signior
(Leonato?
Bene. I noted her not, but I lookte on her,
Clau. Is she not a modest yong ladie?
Bene. Do you question me as an honest man should doe,
for my simple true iudgement? or would you haue me speake
after my custome, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?
Claudio No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement.
Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shees too low for a hie praise,
too browne for a faire praise, and too litle for a great praise, onlie this commendation I can affoord her, that were shee other
then she is, she were vnhansome, and being no other, but as she
is, I do not like her.
Claudio Thou thinkest I am in sport, I pray thee tell mee
truelie how thou lik'st her.
Bene. Would you buie her that you enquier after her?
�Claudio Can the world buie such a iewel?
Bene. Yea, and a case to putte it into, but speake you this
with a sad brow? or doe you play the flowting iacke, to tell vs
Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare Carpenter:
Come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the song?
Claudio In mine eie, shee is the sweetest Ladie that euer I
lookt on.
Bened. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such
matter: theres her cosin, and she were not possest with a fury,
exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first of Maie dooth the
last of December: but I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you?
Claudio I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had sworne
the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife.
Bened. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the worlde one
man but he will weare his cappe with suspition? shall I neuer
see a batcheller of three score againe? go to yfaith, and thou wilt
needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare the print of it, and
sigh away sundaies: looke, don Pedro is returned to seeke you.
Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard.
Pedro What secret hath held you here, that you followed
not to Leonatoes?
Bene. I would your Grace would constraine me to tell.
Pedro I charge thee on thy allegeance.
Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumb
man, I woulde haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance,
marke you this, on my allegiance) he is in loue, with who? now
that is your Graces part: marke how short his answer is, with
Hero Leonatoes short daughter.
Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred.
Bened. Like the olde tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor twas
�not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so.
Claudio If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it
should be otherwise.
Pedro Amen, if you loue her, for the Lady is very well
worthy.
Claudio You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord.
Pedro By my troth I speake my thought.
Claudio And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine.
Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lorde, I
spoke mine.
Clau. That I loue her, I feele.
Pedro That she is worthy, I know.
Bened. That I neither feele how she should be loued, nor
know how she should be worthie,
is the opinion that fire can
not melt out of me, I will die in it at the stake.
Pedro Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight of Beauty.
Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force
of his wil.
Bene. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that she
brought me vp, I likewise giue her most humble thankes: but
that I will haue a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my
bugle in an inuisible baldricke, all women shall pardon mee:
because I will not doe them the wrong to mistrust any, I will
doe my selfe the right to trust none: and the fine is, (for the
which I may go the finer,) I will liue a bacheller.
Pedro I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue.
Bene. With anger, with sickenesse, or with hunger, my
Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more blood with
loue then I will get againe with drinking, picke out mine eies
�with a Ballad-makers penne, and hang me vp at the doore of a
brothel house for the signe of blinde Cupid.
Pedro Well, if euer thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt
prooue a notable argument.
Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, and shoote at
me, and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and
calld Adam.
Pedro Well, as time shal trie: in time the sauage bull doth
beare the yoake.
Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulls hornes, and set them in my
forehead, and let me be vildly painted, and in such great letters as they write, here is good horse to hyre: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may see Benedicke the married
man.
Claudio If this should euer happen, thou wouldst be horn
madde.
Pedro Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his quiuer in Venice,
thou wilt quake for this shortly.
Bened. I looke for an earthquake too then.
Pedro Well, you will temporize with the howres, in the
meane time, good signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes,
commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation.
Bened. I haue almost matter enough in mee for suche an
Embassage, and so I commit you.
Clau. To the tuition of God: from my house if I had it.
Pedro The sixt of Iuly: your louing friend Benedicke.
Bened. Nay mocke not, mocke not, the body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guardes
are but slightly basted on neither, ere you flowt old ends any
�further, examine your conscience, and so I leaue you.
exit
Claudio My liege, your Highnesse nowe may doe mee
good.
Pedro My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learne
Any hard lesson that may do thee good.
Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne, my lord?
Pedro No childe but Hero, shees his onely heire:
Doost thou affect her Claudio?
Claudio O my lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I lookt vpon her with a souldiers eie,
That likt, but had a rougher taske in hand,
Than to driue liking to the name of loue:
But now I am returnde, and that warre-thoughts,
Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes,
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is,
Saying I likt her ere I went to warres.
Pedro Thou wilt be like a louer presently,
And tire the hearer with a booke of words,
If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it,
And I wil breake with hir, and with her father,
300And thou shalt haue her: wast not to this end,
That thou beganst to twist so fine a storie?
Clau. How sweetly you do minister to loue,
That know loues griefe by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme,
I would haue salude it with a longer treatise.
Pedro What need the bridge much broder then the flood?
�The fairest graunt is the necessitie:
Looke what wil serue is fit: tis once, thou louest,
And I wil fit thee with the remedie,
I know we shall haue reuelling to night,
I wil assume thy part in some disguise,
And tell faire Hero I am Claudio,
And in her bosome ile vnclaspe my heart,
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong incounter of my amorous tale:
Then after, to her father will I breake,
And the conclusion is, she shal be thine,
In practise let vs put it presently.
exeunt.
Enter Leonato and an old man brother to Leonato
Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your sonne, hath
he prouided this musique?
Old He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell you
strange newes that you yet dreampt not of.
Leo. Are they good?
Old As the euents stampes them, but they haue a good couer: they shew well outward, the prince and Count Claudio
walking in a thicke pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus
much ouer-heard by a man of mine: the prince discouered to
Claudio that he loued my niece your daughter, and meant to
acknowledge it this night in a daunce, and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly breake with you of it.
Leo Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
Old A good sharp fellow, I wil send for him, and question
him your selfe.
�Leo. No, no, we wil hold it as a dreame til it appeare itself:
but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that she may bee the
better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture this be true: go
you and tel hir of it: coosins, you know what you haue to doe,
O I crie you mercie friend, go you with me and I wil vse your
shill: good cosin haue a care this busie time.
exeunt.
Enter sir Iohn the bastard, and Conrade his companion.
Con. What the goodyeere my lord, why are you thus out of
measure sad?
Iohn There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therfore the sadnesse is without limit.
Con. You should heare reason.
Iohn And when I haue heard it, what blessing brings it?
Con If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance.
Iohn I wonder that thou (being as thou saist, thou art, borne
vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine, to a
mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad
when I haue cause, and smile at no mans iests, eate when I haue
stomack, and wait for no mans leisure: sleep when I am drowsie, and tend on no mans businesse, laugh when I am mery, and
claw no man in his humor.
Con. Yea but you must not make the full show of this till
you may do it without controllment, you haue of late stoode
out against your brother, and he hath tane you newly into his
grace, where it is impossible you should take true root, but by
the faire weather that you make your self, it is needful that you
frame the season for your owne haruest.
Iohn I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a rose in his
grace, and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of all, then to
fashion a cariage to rob loue from any: in this (thogh I cannot
�be said to be a flatering honest man) it must not be denied but I
am a plain dealing villaine, I am trusted with a mussel, and enfraunchisde with a clogge, therfore I haue decreed, not to sing
in my cage: if I had my mouth I would bite: if I had my liberty I would do my liking: in the mean time, let me be that I am,
and seeke not to alter me.
Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent?
Iohn I make all vse of it, for I vse it only,
Who comes here? what newes Borachio?
Enter Borachio.
Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the prince your
brother is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can giue you
intelligence of an intended mariage.
Iohn Wil it serue for any model to build mischiefe on? what
is he for a foole that betrothes himselfe to vnquietnesse?
Bor. Mary it is your bothers right hand.
Iohn Who, the most exquisite Claudio?
Bor. Euen he.
Iohn A proper squier, and who, and who, which way looks
he?
Bor. Mary one Hero the daughter and heire of Leonato.
Iohn A very forward March-chicke, how came you to
this?
Bor Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a
musty roome, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in
hand in sad conference: I whipt me behind the arras, and there
heard it agreed vpon, that the prince should wooe Hero for
himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue her to Counte Claudio.
Iohn Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food to my
displeasure, that yong start-vp hath all the glory of my ouer-
�throw: if I can crosse him any way, I blesse my selfe euery way,
you are both sure, and wil assist me.
Conr. To the death my Lord.
Iohn Let vs to the great supper, their cheere is the greater
that I am subdued, would the cooke were a my mind, shall we
go proue whats to be done?
Bor. Weele wait vpon your lordship.
exit.
Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and
Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.
Leonato Was not counte Iohn here at supper?
brother I saw him not.
Beatrice How tartely that gentleman lookes, I neuer can see
him but I am heart-burn'd an hower after.
Hero He is of a very melancholy disposition.
Beatrice He were an excellent man that were made iust in
the mid-way between him and Benedick, the one is too like an
image and saies nothing, and the other too like my ladies eldest
sonne, euermore tatling.
Leonato Then halfe signior Benedickes tongue in Counte
Iohns mouth, and halfe Counte Iohns melancholy in Signior
Benedickes face.
Beatrice With a good legge and a good foote vnckle, and
money inough in his purse, such a man would winne any woman in the world if a could get her good will.
Leonato By my troth neece thou wilt neuer get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
brother Infaith shees too curst.
Beatrice Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen
Gods sending that way, for it is saide, God sends a curst cow
short hornes, but to a cow too curst, he sends none.
�Leonato So, by being too curst, God will send you no
hornes.
Beatrice Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and euening:
Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I
had rather lie in the woollen!
Leonato You may light on a husband that hath no beard.
Beatrice What should I do with him, dresse him in my apparell and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he that hath a
beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath no beard, is lesse
then a man: and he that is more then a youth, is not for me, and
he that is lesse then a man, I am not for him, therefore I will
euen take sixpence in earnest of the Berrord, and leade his
apes into hell.
Leonato Well then, go you into hell.
Beatrice No but to the gate, and there will the diuell meete
me like an old cuckold with hornes on his head, and say, get
you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen, heeres no place for
you maids, so deliuer I vp my apes and away to saint Peter: for
the heauens, he shewes me where the Batchellers sit, and there
liue we as mery as the day is long.
brother Well neece, I trust you will be rulde by your father.
Beatrice Yes faith, it is my cosens duetie to make cursie and
say, father, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let him be a
handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie, and say, father,
as it please me.
Leonato Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a
husband.
Beatrice Not til God make men of some other mettal then
earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouer-masterd with
�a peece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod
of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none: Adams sonnes are my
brethren, and truely I holde it a sinne to match in my kinred.
Leonato Daughter, remember what I told you, if the prince
do solicite you in that kind, you know your answer.
Beatrice The fault will be in the musique cosin, if you be
not wooed in good time: if the prince be too important, tell
him there is measure in euery thing, and so daunce out the answer, for here me Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is
as a Scotch ijgge, a measure, and a cinquepace: the first suite is
hot and hasty like a Scotch ijgge (and ful as fantasticall) the
wedding manerly modest (as a measure) full of state and aunchentry, and then comes Repentance, and with his bad legs
falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, til he sincke into his
graue.
Leonato Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beatrice I haue a good eie vnckle, I can see a church by
day-light.
Leonato The reuellers are entring brother, make good
roome.
Enter prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthaser,
or dumb Iohn.
Pedro Lady will you walke about with your friend?
Hero So, you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I walk away.
Pedro With me in your company.
Hero I may say so when I please.
Pedro And when please you to say so?
Hero When I like your fauour, for God defend the lute
�should be like the case.
Pedro My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house is
Ioue.
Hero Why then your visor should be thatcht.
Pedro Speake low if you speake loue.
Bene. Well, I would you did like me.
Mar. So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue many ill qualities.
Bene. Which is one?
Mar. I say my praiers alowd.
Bene. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.
Marg. God match me with a good dauncer.
Balth. Amen.
Marg. And God keepe him out of my sight when the
daunce is done: answer Clarke.
Balth. No more words, the Clarke is answered.
Vrsula I know you well enough, you are signior Anthonio.
Antho. At a word I am not.
Vrsula I knowe you by the wagling of your head.
Antho. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
Vrsula You coulde neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse you
were the very man: heeres his drie hand vp and downe, you
are he, you are he.
Antho. At a word, I am not.
Vrsula Come, come, do you thinke I do not know you by
your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? go to, mumme, you
are he, graces will appeere, and theres an end.
Beat. Will you not tell me who tolde you so?
Bened. No, you shall pardon me.
Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
�Bened. Not now.
Beat. That I was disdainefull, and that I had my good wit
out of the hundred mery tales: wel, this was signior Benedick
that said so.
Bened. Whats he?
Beat. I am sure you know him well enough.
Bened. Not I, beleeue me.
Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh?
Bened. I pray you what is he?
Beat. Why he is the princes ieaster, a very dul fool, only his
gift is, in deuising impossible slaunders, none but Libertines
delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in
his villanie, for he both pleases men and angers them, and then
they laugh at him, and beate him: I am sure he is in the Fleete,
I would he had boorded me.
Bene. When I know the Gentleman, ile tell him what you
say.
Beat. Do, do, heele but break a comparison or two on me,
which peraduẽture, (not markt, or not laught at) strikes him into melancholy, and then theres a partrige wing saued, for the
foole will eate no supper that night: wee must follow the leaders.
Bene. In euery good thing.
Beat. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them at the
next turning.
Dance exeunt
Iohn Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the Ladies folow her, and but one visor remaines.
Borachio And that is Claudio, I knowe him by his bearing.
�Iohn Are not you signior Benedicke?
Clau. You know me well, I am he.
Iohn Signior, you are very neere my brother in his loue, he
is enamourd on Hero, I pray you disswade him from her, she
is no equall for his birth, you may doe the parte of an honest
man in it.
Claudio How know you he loues her?
Iohn I heard him sweare his affection.
Borac. So did I too, and he swore hee would marry her to
night.
Iohn Come let vs to the banquet.
exeunt: manet Clau.
Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedicke,
But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio:
Tis certaine so, the Prince wooes for himselfe,
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Saue in the office and affaires of loue:
Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues.
Let euery eie negotiate for it selfe,
And trust no Agent: for Beauty is a witch,
Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood:
This is an accident of hourely proofe,
Which I mistrusted not: farewel therefore Hero.
Enter Bene( dicke
Benedicke Count Claudio.
Claudio Yea, the same.
Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claudio Whither?
Bene. Euen to the next willow, about your owne busines,
county: what fashion will you weare the garland of? about
�your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? or vnder your arme, like a
Lieutenants scarffe? you must weare it one way, for the prince
hath got your Hero.
Claudio I wish him ioy of her.
Bened. Why thats spoken like an honest Drouier, so they
sell bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince would haue serued you thus?
Claudio I pray you leaue me.
Benedicke Ho now you strike like the blindman, twas the
boy that stole your meate, and youle beate the post.
Claudio If it will not be, ile leaue you.
exit
Benedicke Alas poore hurt foule, now will hee creepe into
sedges: but that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, and not
know mee: the princes foole! hah, it may be I goe vnder that
title because I am merry: yea but so I am apte to doe my selfe
wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so
giues me out: well, ile be reuenged as I may.
Enter the Prince, Hero, Leonato, Iohn and Borachio,
and Conrade.
Pedro Now signior, wheres the Counte, did you see him?
Benedicke Troth my lord, I haue played the part of Ladie
Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren, I tolde him, and I thinke I tolde him true, that your grace
had got the goodwil of this yoong Lady, and I offred him my
company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him vp a rod, as being worthie to bee
whipt.
Pedro To be whipt, whats his fault?
Benedicke The flatte transgression of a Schoole-boy, who
�being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his companion, and he steales it.
Pedro Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer.
Benedicke Yet it had not beene amisse the rodde had beene
made, & the garland too, for the garland he might haue worn
himselfe, and the rodde he might haue bestowed on you, who
(as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest.
Pedro I wil but teach them to sing, and restore them to the
owner.
Benedicke If their singing answer your saying, by my faith
you say honestly.
Pedro The ladie Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much wrongd by
you.
Bened. O shee misusde me past the indurance of a blocke:
an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered
her: my very visor beganne to assume life, and scold with her:
she tolde me, not thinking I had beene my selfe, that I was the
Princes iester, that I was duller than a great thawe, huddleing
iest vpon iest, with such impossible conueiance vpon me, that
I stoode like a man at a marke, with a whole army shooting
at me: she speakes poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her
breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no liuing neere her, shee would infect to the north starre: I woulde
not marry her, though shee were indowed with al that Adam
had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to make the
fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall find her the infernall
Ate in good apparell, I would to God some scholler woulde
coniure her, for certainely, while she is heere, a man may liue
�as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuarie, and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe thither, so indeede all disquiet,
horrour, and perturbation followes her.
Enter Claudio and Beatrice.
Pedro Looke heere she comes.
Benedicke Will your grace command me any seruice to the
worldes end? I will go on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send mee on: I will fetch you a
tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia: bring you
the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch you a haire off the great
Chams beard: doe you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather
than holde three words conference, with this harpy, you haue
no imployment for me?
Pedro None, but to desire your good company.
Benedicke O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure my Ladie Tongue.
exit.
Pedro Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of signior Benedicke.
Beatrice Indeed my Lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gaue
him vse for it, a double heart for his single one, mary once before he wonne it of me, with false dice, therefore your grace
may well say I haue lost it.
Pedro You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put him
downe.
Beatrice So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I
should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought Counte
Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke.
Pedro Why how now Counte, wherefore are you sad?
Claudio Not sad my Lord.
Pedro How then? sicke?
�Claudio Neither, my Lord.
Beatrice The Counte is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry,
nor well: but ciuill Counte, ciuil as an orange, and something
of that iealous complexion.
Pedro Ifaith Lady, I think your blazon to be true, though
ile be sworne, if he be so, his conceit is false: heere Claudio, I
haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero is won, I haue broke
with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of
marriage, and God giue thee ioy.
Leonato Counte take of me my daughter, and with her my
fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it.
Beatrice Speake Counte, tis your Qu.
Claudio Silence is the perfectest
Herault of ioy, I were but
little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you are mine,
I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and doate vpon the
exchange.
Beat. Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a
kisse, and let not him speake neither.
Pedro Infaith lady you haue a merry heart.
Beatr. Yea my lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes on the
windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare that he is in
her heart
Clau. And so she doth coosin.
Beat. Good Lord for aliance: thus goes euery one to the
world but I, and I am sun-burnt, I may sit in a corner and crie,
heigh ho for a husband.
Pedro Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting: hath
your grace ne're a brother like you? your father got excellent
�husbands if a maide coulde come by them.
Prince Will you haue me? lady.
Beatr. No my lord, vnles I might haue another for working-daies, your grace is too costly to weare euery day: but I
beseech your grace pardon me, I was born to speake all mirth,
and no matter.
Prince Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best
becomes you, for out a question, you were borne in a merry
hower.
Beatr. No sure my lord, my mother cried, but then there
was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne, cosins God
giue you ioy.
Leonato Neece, will you looke to those things I tolde you
of?
Beat I crie you mercy vncle, by your graces pardon.
exit Beatrice.
Prince By my troth a pleasant spirited lady.
Leon. Theres little of the melancholy element in her my
lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleeps, & not euer sad then:
for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath often dreampt of
vnhappines, and wakt her selfe with laughing.
Pedro She cannot indure to heare tell of a husband.
Leonato O by no meanes, she mockes al her wooers out of
sute.
Prince She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leonato O Lord, my lord, if they were but a weeke married,
they would talke themselues madde.
Prince Countie Claudio, when meane you to goe to
church?
Clau. To morow my lord, Time goes on crutches, til Loue
haue all his rites.
�Leonato Not til monday, my deare sonne, which is hence a
iust seuennight, and a time too briefe too, to haue al things answer my mind.
Prince Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing,
but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not go dully by vs, I
wil in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules labors, which is,
to bring Signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th'one with th'other, I would faine haue it a
match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but
minister such assistance as I shall giue you direction.
Leonato My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights
watchings.
Claud. And I my Lord.
Prince And you too gentle Hero?
Hero I wil do any modest office, my lord, to help my cosin
to a good husband.
Prince And Benedicke is not the vnhopefullest husband
that I know: thus farre can I praise him, he is of a noble strain,
of approoued valour, and confirmde honesty, I will teach you
how to humour your cosin, that she shall fal in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, wil so practise on Benedicke, that in dispight of his quicke wit, and his queasie stomacke, he shall fall in loue with Beatrice: if we can do this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall bee ours, for we are
the onely loue-gods, goe in with mee, and I will tell you my
drift.
exit.
Enter Iohn and Borachio.
Iohn It is so, the Counte Claudio shall marry the daughter
of Leonato.
Bora. Yea my lord, but I can crosse it.
�Iohn Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be medcinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and whatsoeuer
comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly with mine, how
canst thou crosse this marriage?
Bor. Not honestly my lord, but so couertly, that no dishonesty shall appeare in me.
Iohn Shew me briefely how.
Bor. I thinke I told your lordship a yeere since, how much
I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to
Hero.
Iohn I remember.
Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night, appoint
her to looke out at her ladies chamber window.
Iohn What life is in that to be the death of this mariage?
Bor. The poison of that lies in you to temper, goe you to
the prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath
wronged his honor in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose
estimation do you mightily hold vp, to a contaminated stale,
such a one as Hero.
Iohn What proofe shall I make of that?
Bor. Proofe enough, to misuse the prince, to vexe Claudio,
to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any other
issue?
Iohn Onely to dispight them I will endeuour any thing.
Bor. Go then, find me a meet houre, to draw don Pedro and
the Counte Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero
loues me, intend a kind of zeale both to the prince & Claudio
(as in loue of your brothers honor who hath made this match)
and his friends reputation, who is thus like to bee cosen'd with
the semblance of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they wil
scarcely beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which
�shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see me at her chamber
window, heare me call Margaret Hero, heare Marg. terme me
Claudio, & bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the mean time, I wil so fashion the matter, that Hero shal be absent and there shal appeere such seeming
truth of Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shal be cald assurance, and al the preparation ouerthrowne.
Iohn Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will put it in
practise: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducates.
Bor. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning
shall not shame me.
Iohn I will presently go learne their day of marriage.
exit
Enter Benedicke alone.
Bene. Boy.
Boy Signior.
Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it hither
to me in the orchard.
Boy. I am here already sir.
exit.
Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence and here againe. I do much wonder, that one man seeing how much an
other man is a foole, when he dedicates his behauiours to loue,
wil after he hath laught at such shallow follies in others, becom
the argument of his owne scorne, by falling in loue, and such a
man is Claudio, I haue knowne when there was no musique
with him but the drumme and the fife, and now had he rather
heare the taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would
haue walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armour, and now wil
he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet: he
�was woont to speake plaine, and to the purpose (like an honest
man and a souldier) and now is he turnd ortography, his words
are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so many strange dishes:
may I be so conuerted and see with these eies? I cannot tell, I
thinke not: I wil not be sworne but loue may transforme me to
an oyster, but ile take my oath on it, till he haue made and oyster of me, he shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is
faire, yet I am well, an other is wise, yet I am well: an other
vertuous, yet I am wel: but till all graces be in one woman, one
womã shal not com in my grace: rich she shal be thats certain,
wise, or ile none, vertuous, or ile neuer cheapen her: faire, or ile
neuer looke on her, mild, or come not neare me, noble, or not I
for an angell, of good discourse, an excellent musitian, and her
haire shall be of what colour it please God. hah! the prince and
monsieur Loue, I wil hide me in the arbor.
Enter prince, Leonato, Claudio, Musicke.
Prince Come shall we heare this musique?
Claud. Yea my good lord: how stil the euening is,
As husht on purpose to grace harmonie!
Prince See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe?
Claud. O very wel my lord: the musique ended,
Weele fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth.
Enter Balthaser with musicke.
Prince Come Balthaser, weele heare that song againe.
Balth. O good my lord, taxe not so bad a voice,
To slaunder musicke any more then once.
Prince It is the witnesse still of excellencie,
To put a strange face on his owne perfection,
I pray thee sing, and let me wooe no more.
Balth. Because you talke of wooing I will sing,
Since many a wooer doth commence his sute,
�To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he sweare he loues.
Prince Nay pray thee come,
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.
Balth. Note this before my notes,
Theres not a note of mine thats worth the noting.
Prince Why these are very crotchets that he speakes,
Note notes forsooth, and nothing.
Bene. Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it not
strange that sheepes guts should hale soules out of mens bodies? well a horne for my mony when alls done.
The Song.
Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceiuers euer,
One foote in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant neuer,
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blith and bonnie,
Conuerting all your soundes of woe,
Into hey nony nony.
Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heauy,
The fraud of men was euer so,
Since summer first was leauy,
Then sigh not so, &c.
Prince By my troth a good song.
Balth. And an ill singer my lord.
Prince Ha, no no faith, thou singst wel enough for a shift.
Ben. And he had bin a dog that should haue howld thus,
they would haue hangd him, and I pray God his bad voice
�bode no mischeefe, I had as liue haue heard the night-rauen,
come what plague could haue come after it.
Prince Yea mary, doost thou heare Balthasar? I pray thee
get vs some excellent musique: for to morow night we would
haue it at the ladie Heroes chamber window.
Balth. The best I can my lord.
Exit Balthasar.
Prince Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was
it you told mee of to day, that your niece Beatrice was in loue
with signior Benedicke?
Cla. O I, stalke on, stalk on, the foule sits. I did neuer think
that lady would haue loued any man.
Leo. No nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she should
so dote on signior Benedicke, whome she hath in all outward
behauiors seemd euer to abhorre.
Bene. Ist possible? sits the wind in that corner?
Leo. By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of
it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection, it is past the
infinite of thought.
Prince May be she doth but counterfeit.
Claud. Faith like enough.
Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of
passion, came so neare the life of passion as she discouers it.
Prince Why what effects of passion shewes she?
Claud. Baite the hooke wel, this fish will bite.
Leon. What effects my Lord? she wil sit you, you heard my
daughter tell you how.
Claud. She did indeede.
Prince How, how I pray you! you amaze me, I would haue
thought her spirite had beene inuincible against all assaults of
affection.
�Leo. I would haue sworn it had, my lord, especially against
Benedicke.
Bene. I should think this a gull, but that the white bearded
fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide himself in such reuerence.
Claud. He hath tane th'infection, hold it vp.
Prince Hath shee made her affection knowne to Benedicke?
Leonato No, and sweares shee neuer will, thats her torment.
Claudio Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall I, saies
she, that haue so oft encountred him with scorne, write to him
that I loue him?
Leo. This saies she now when she is beginning to write to
him, for sheel be vp twenty times a night, and there will she sit
in her smocke, til she haue writ a sheete of paper: my daughter
tels vs all.
Clau. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a prety
iest your daughter told of vs.
Leonato O when she had writ it, and was reading it ouer, she
found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete.
Claudio That.
Leon. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, raild
at her self, that she should be so immodest to write, to one that
she knew would flout her, I measure him, saies she, by my own
spirit, for I should flout him, if he writ to me, yea thogh I loue
him I should.
Clau. Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes, sobs,
beates her heart, teares her haire, prayes, curses, O sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience.
Leonato She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the ex-
�tasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard shee will doe a desperate out-rage to her selfe, it is
very true.
Prince It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some other, if she will not discouer it.
Claudio To what end: he would make but a sport of it, and
torment the poore Lady worse.
Prince And he should, it were an almes to hang him, shees
an excellent sweete lady, and (out of all suspition,) she is vertuous.
Claudio And she is exceeding wise.
Prince In euery thing but in louing Benedicke.
Leonato O my Lord, wisedome and blood combating in
so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath
the victory, I am sory for her, as I haue iust cause, beeing her
vncle, and her gardian.
Prince I would shee had bestowed this dotage on mee, I
would haue daft all other respects, and made her halfe my self:
I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare what a will say.
Leonato Were it good thinke you?
Claudio Hero thinkes surely she will die, for she sayes shee
will die, if he loue her not, and shee will die ere shee make her
loue knowne, and she will die if he wooe her, rather than shee
will bate one breath of her accustomed crosnesse.
Prince She doth well, if shee shoulde make tender of her
loue, tis very possible heele scorne it, for the man (as you know
all) hath a contemptible spirite.
Claudio He is a very proper man.
Prince He hath indeede a good outward happines.
Claudio Before God, and in my mind, very wise.
Prince Hee dooth indeede shew some sparkes that are like
�wit.
Claudio And I take him to be valiant.
Prince As Hector, I assure you, and in the mannaging of
quarrels you may say he is wise, for either hee auoydes them
with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a most christianlike feare.
Leonato If he do feare God, a must necessarily keep peace,
if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrel with
feare and trembling.
Prince And so will hee doe, for the man doth feare God,
howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large iestes hee will
make: well I am sory for your niece, shall we go seeke Benedicke, and tell him of her loue?
Claudio Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with
good counsell.
Leonato Nay thats impossible, shee may weare her heart
out first.
Prince Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter,
let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke wel, and I could wish
he would modestly examine himselfe, to see how much he is
vnworthy so good a lady.
Leonato My lord, will you walke? dinner is ready.
Claudio If he do not doate on her vppon this, I will neuer
trust my expectation.
Prince Let there be the same nette spread for her, and that
must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry: the sporte
will be, when they holde one an opinion of an others dotage,
and no such matter, thats the scene that I woulde see, which
wil be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs send her to call him in to
dinner.
Benedicke This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly
�borne, they haue the trueth of this from Hero, they seeme to
pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue their full bent:
loue me? why it must be requited: I heare how I am censurde,
they say I will beare my selfe prowdly, if I perceiue the loue
come from her: they say too, that she will rather die than giue
anie signe of affection: I did neuer thinke to marry, I must
not seeme prowd, happy are they that heare their detractions,
and can put them to mending: they say the Lady is faire, tis a
trueth, I can beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is
no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her follie, for
I will be horribly in loue with her, I may chaunce haue some
odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken on me, because I
haue railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meate in his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quippes and sentences, and these paper
bullets of the brain awe a man from the carreere of his humor?
No, the world must be peopled. When I saide I woulde die a
batcheller, I did not think I should liue til I were married, here
comes Beatrice: by this day, shees a faire lady, I doe spie some
markes of loue in her.
Enter Beatrice.
Beatr. Aganst my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.
Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines.
Beat. I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then you
take paines to thanke me, if it had bin painful I would not haue
come.
Bene. You take pleasure then in the message.
Beat. Yea iust so much as you may take vppon a kniues
point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomach signior,
�fare you well.
exit.
Bene. Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come in to
dinner: theres a double meaning in that: I took no more paines
for those thanks thẽ you took pains to thank me, thats as much
as to say, any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks: if I do
not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I do not loue her I am a
Iew, I will go get her picture,
exit.
Enter Hero and two Gentlewomen, Margaret, and Vrsley.
Hero Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour,
There shalt thou find my cosin Beatrice,
Proposing with the prince and Claudio,
Whisper her eare and tell her I and Vrsley,
Walke in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs,
And bid her steale into the pleached bowere
Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne,
Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites,
Made proud by princes, that aduaunce their pride,
Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her,
To listen our propose, this is thy office,
Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone.
Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you presently.
Hero Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley vp and downe,
Our talke must onely be of Benedicke,
When I do name him let it be thy part,
To praise him more than euer man did merite,
My talke to thee must be how Benedicke,
Is sicke in loue with Beatrice: of this matter,
�Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin,
For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
Close by the ground, to heare our conference.
Enter Beatrice.
Vrsula The pleasantst angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden ores the siluer streame,
And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite:
So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now,
Is couched in the wood-bine couerture,
Feare you not my part of the dialogue.
Hero Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing,
Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it:
No truly Vrsula, she is too disdainfull,
I know her spirits are as coy and wild,
As haggerds of the rocke.
Vrsula But are you sure,
That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely?
Hero So saies the prince, and my new trothed Lord.
Vrsula And did they bid you tel her of it, madame?
Hero They did intreate me to acquaint her of it,
But I perswaded them, if they lou'de Benedicke,
To wish him wrastle with affection,
And neuer to let Beatrice know of it.
Vrsula Why did you so, dooth not the gentleman
Deserue as full as fortunate a bed,
As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon?
Hero O God of loue! I know he doth deserue,
As much as may be yeelded to a man:
But nature neuer framde a womans hart,
Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice:
�Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eies,
Misprising what they looke on, and her wit
Valewes it selfe so highly, that to her
All matter els seemes weake: she cannot loue,
Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection,
She is so selfe indeared.
Vrsula Sure I thinke so,
And therefore certainely it were not good,
She knew his loue lest sheele make sport at it.
Hero Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featured.
But she would spel him backward: if faire faced,
She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister:
If blacke, why Nature drawing of an antique,
Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed:
If low, an agot very vildly cut:
If speaking, why a vane blowne with all winds:
If silent, why a blocke moued with none:
So turnes she euery man the wrong side out,
And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that
Which simplenesse and merite purchaseth.
Vrsula Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
Hero No not to be so odde, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,
But who dare tell her so? if I should speake,
She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit,
Therefore let Benedicke like couerd fire,
Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly:
It were a better death, then die with mockes,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.
�Vrsula Yet tel her of it, heare what she wil say.
Hero No rather I will go to Benedicke,
And counsaile him to fight against his passion,
And truly ile deuise some honest slaunders,
To staine my cosin with, one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoison liking.
Vrsula O do not do your cosin such a wrong,
She cannot be so much without true iudgement,
Hauing so swift and excellent a wit,
As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as signior Benedicke.
Hero He is the onely man of Italy,
Alwaies excepted my deare Claudio
Vrsula I pray you be not angry with me, madame,
Speaking my fancy: signior Benedicke,
For shape, for bearing argument and valour,
Goes formost in report through Italy.
Hero Indeed he hath an excellent good name.
Vrsula His excellence did earne it, ere he had it:
When are you married madame?
Hero Why euery day to morrow, come go in,
Ile shew thee some attyres, and haue thy counsaile,
Which is the best to furnish me to morrow.
Vrsula Shees limed I warrant you,
We haue caught her madame.
Hero If it proue so, then louing goes by haps,
Some Cupid kills with arrowes some with traps.
Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much?
Contempt, farewel, and maiden pride, adew,
No glory liues behind the backe of such.
�And Benedicke, loue on I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy louing hand:
If thou dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee
To bind our loues vp in a holy band.
For others say thou dost deserue, and I
Beleeue it better then reportingly.
exit.
Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.
Prince I doe but stay til your mariage be consummate, and
then go I toward Arragon.
Claud. Ile bring you thither my lord, if youle vouchsafe
me.
Prince Nay that would be as great a soyle in the new glosse
of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coate and forbid
him to weare it, I wil only be bold with Benedick for his company, for from the crowne of his head, to the sole of his foot,
he is al mirth, he hath twice or thrice cut Cupides bow-string,
and the little hang-man dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart
as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his
heart thinkes, his tongue speakes.
Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin.
Leo. So say I, me thinkes you are sadder.
Clau. I hope he be in loue.
Prince Hang him truant, theres no true drop of bloud in
him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sadde, he wantes money.
Bene. I haue the tooth-ach.
Prince Draw it.
Bene. Hang it.
Clau. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
Prince What? sigh for the tooth-ach.
�Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme.
Bene. Wel, euery one cannot master a griefe, but he that
has it.
Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue.
Prince There is no appeerance of fancie in him, vnlesse it
be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutchman to day, a French-man to morrow, or in the shape of two
countries at once, as a Germaine from the waste downward,
all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip vpward, no dublet: vnlesse he haue a fancie to this foolery, as it appeares he hath,
he is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it appeare he
is.
Clau. If he be not in loue with some woman, there is no beleeuing old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings, what should
that bode?
Prince Hath any man seene him at the Barbers?
Clau. No, but the barbers man hath bin seene with him,
and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath already stufft tennis
balls.
Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than he did, by the losse of
a beard.
Prince Nay a rubs himselfe with ciuit, can you smell him
out by that?
Claud. Thats as much as to say, the sweete youthe's in
loue.
Bene. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
Claud. And when was he woont to wash his face?
Prince Yea or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare what
they say of him.
Claud. Nay but his iesting spirit, which is now crept into a
lute-string, and now gouernd by stops.
�Prince Indeed that tells a heauy tale for him: conclude, conclude, he is in loue.
Claud. Nay but I know who loues him.
Prince That would I know too, I warrant one that knows
him not.
Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in dispight of al, dies
for him.
Prince She shall be buried with her face vpwards.
Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old signior,
walke aside with me, I haue studied eight or nine wise wordes
to speake to you, which these hobby-horses must not heare.
Prince For my life to breake with him about Beatrice.
Claud. Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this played
their parts with Beatrice, and then the two beares will not
bite one another when they meete.
Enter Iohn the Bastard.
Bastard My lord and brother, God saue you.
Prince Good den brother.
Bastard If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you.
Prince In priuate?
Bastard If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare, for
what I would speake of, concernes him.
Prince Whats the matter?
Bast. Meanes your Lordship to be married to morrow?
Prince You know he does.
Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know.
Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer it.
Bast. You may think I loue you not, let that appeare hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will manifest, for
my brother (I thinke, he holdes you well, and in dearenesse of
heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing mariage: surely sute ill
�spent, and labor ill bestowed.
Prince Why whats the matter?
Bast. I came hither to tel you, and circumstances shortned,
(for she has bin too long a talking of) the lady is disloyall.
Clau. Who Hero?
Bastar. Euen she, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery mans
Hero.
Clau. Disloyall?
Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse, I
could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse title, and I wil
fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant: go but with me
to night you shall see her chamber window entred, euen the
night before her wedding day, if you loue her, then to morow
wed her: But it would better fitte your honour to change your
mind.
Claud. May this be so?
Prince I wil not thinke it.
Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not that
you knowe: if you will follow mee, I will shew you enough,
and when you haue seene more, and heard more, proceede accordingly.
Claudio If I see anie thing to night, why I should not marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I should wed,
there will I shame her.
Prince And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I wil ioyne
with thee, to disgrace her.
Bastard I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses, beare it coldely but till midnight, and let the issue shew
it selfe.
Prince O day vntowardly turned!
Claud. O mischiefe strangely thwarting!
�Bastard O plague right well preuented! so will you say,
when you haue seene the sequele.
Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the Watch.
Dog. Are you good men and true?
Verges Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer saluation body and soule.
Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if
they should haue any allegeance in them, being chosen for the
Princes watch.
Verges Well, giue them their charge, neighbour Dogbery.
Dogbery First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man
to be Constable?
Watch 1 Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-cole, for they
can write and reade.
Dogbery Come hither neighbor Sea-cole. God hath blest
you with a good name: to be a welfauoured man, is the gift of
Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by nature.
Watch 2 Both which maister Constable.
Dogbery You haue: I knew it would be your answer: wel,
for your fauour sir, why giue God thanks, and make no boast
of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appeere when
there is no neede of such vanity, you are thought heere to be
the most senslesse and fit man for the Constable of the watch:
therefore beare you the lanthorne: this is your charge, You
shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bidde any man
stand, in the Princes name.
Watch 2 How if a will not stand?
Dogbery Why then take no note of him, but let him goe,
and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thanke
god you are ridde of a knaue.
�Verges If he wil not stand when he is bidden, he is none of
the Princes subiects.
Dogbery True, and they are to meddle with none but the
Princes subiects: you shall also make no noise in the streetes:
for, for the watch to babble and to talke, is most tollerable, and
not to be indured.
Watch We will rather sleepe than talke, we know what belongs to a watch.
Dogbery Why you speake like an antient and most quiet
watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: onely haue a care that your billes bee not stolne: well, you are to
cal at al the alehouses, and bid those that are drunke get them to
bed.
Watch How if they will not?
Dogbery Why then let them alone til they are sober, if they
make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not
the men you tooke them for.
Watch Well sir.
Dogbery If you meete a thiefe, you may suspect him, by
vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such kind of
men, the lesse you meddle or make with them, why the more
is for your honesty.
Watch If we know him to be a thiefe, shal we not lay hands
on him?
1385Dogbery Truely by your office you may, but I thinke they
that touch pitch will be defilde: the most peaceable way for
you, if you doe take a thiefe, is, to let him shew himselfe what
he is, and steale out of your companie.
Verges You haue beene alwayes called a mercifull manne,
partner.
Dog. Truely I would not hang a dogge by my will, much
�more a man who hath anie honestie in him.
Verges If you heare a child crie in the night you must call to
the nurse and bid her stil it.
Watch How if the nurse be asleepe and will not heare vs.
Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the child wake her
with crying, for the ewe that will not heare her lamb when it
baes, will neuer answer a calfe when he bleates.
Verges Tis very true.
Dog. This is the end of the charge: you constable are to
present the princes owne person, if you meete the prince in the
night, you may stay him.
Verges Nay birlady that I thinke a cannot.
Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with any man that knowes
the statutes, he may stay him, mary not without the prince be
willing, for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is
an offence to stay a man against his will.
Verges Birlady I thinke it be so.
Dog. Ha ah ha, wel masters good night, and there be any
matter of weight chaunces, cal vp me, keepe your fellowes
counsailes, and your owne, and good night, come neighbour.
Watch Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs goe sitte
here vppon the church bench till twoo, and then all to
bed.
Dog. One word more, honest neighbors, I pray you watch
about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being there to
morrow, there is a great coyle to night, adiew, be vigitant I beseech you.
exeunt.
Enter Borachio and Conrade.
Bor. What Conrade?
�Watch Peace, stir not.
Bor. Conrade I say.
Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow.
Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would a
scabbe follow.
Con. I will owe thee an answer for that, and now forward
with thy tale.
Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it
drissells raine, and I will, like a true drunckard, vtter all to
thee.
Watch Some treason masters, yet stand close.
Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Dun Iohn a thousand ducates.
Con. Is it possible that any villanie should be so deare?
Bor. Thou shouldst rather aske if it were possible any villanie shuld be so rich? for when rich villains haue need of poor
ones, poore ones may make what price they will.
Con. I wonder at it.
Bor. That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest
that the fashion of a dublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing to a
man.
Con. Yes it is apparell.
Bor. I meane the fashion.
Con. Yes the fashion is the fashion.
Bor. Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but seest
thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is?
Watch I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe, this
vij. yeere, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man: I remember
his name.
Bor. Didst thou not heare some body?
Con. No, twas the vane on the house.
�Bor. Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hot-blouds, between
foureteene and fiue and thirtie, sometimes fashioning them
like Pharaoes souldiours in the rechie painting, sometime like
god Bels priests in the old church window, sometime like the
shauen Hercules in the smircht worm-eaten tapestry, where
his cod-peece seemes as massie as his club.
Con. Al this I see, and I see that the fashion weares out more
apparrell then the man, but art not thou thy selfe giddy with
the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling
me of the fashion?
Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night wooed
Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the name of
Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris chamber window, bids
me a thousand times good night: I tell this tale vildly. I should
first tel thee how the prince Claudio and my master planted,
and placed, and possessed, by my master Don Iohn, saw a farre
off in the orchard this amiable incounter.
Conr. And thought they Margaret was Hero?
Bar. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio, but the diuel my master knew she was Margaret, and partly by his oths,
which first possest them, partly by the darke night which did
deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villany, which did confirme
any slander that Don Iohn had made, away went Claudio enragde, swore he would meet her as he was apointed next morning at the Temple, and there, before the whole congregation
shame her, with what he saw o're night, and send her home againe without a husband.
Watch 1 We charge you in the princes name stand.
Watch 2 Call vppe the right maister Constable, wee haue
here recouerd the most dangerous peece of lechery, that euer
�was knowne in the common wealth.
Watch 1 And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, a
weares a locke.
Conr Masters, masters.
Watch 2 Youle be made bring deformed forth I warrant
you.
Conr Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey you
to go with vs.
Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being taken vp of these mens billes.
Conr. A commodity in question I warrant you, come weele
obey you.
exeunt.
Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula.
Hero Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire her
to rise.
Vrsula I wil lady.
Hero And bid her come hither.
Vrsula Well.
Marg. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better.
Hero No pray thee good Meg, ile weare this.
Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your cosin
will say so.
Hero My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile weare
none but this.
Mar I like the new tire within excelently, if the haire were a
thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion yfaith,
I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines gowne that they praise so.
Hero O that exceedes they say.
Marg. By my troth's but a night-gown it respect of yours,
cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with pearles,
�downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vnderborne with
a blewish tinsell, but for a fine queint graceful and excelent fashion, yours is worth ten on't.
Hero God giue me ioy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding heauy.
Marg. T'will be heauier soone by the weight of a
man.
Hero Fie vpon thee, art not ashamed?
Marg. Of what lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable
without mariage? I thinke you would haue me say, sauing your
reuerence a husband: & bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, ile offend no body, is there any harm in the heauier, for a
husband? none I thinke, and it be the right husband, and the
right wife, otherwise tis light and not heauy, aske my lady Beatrice
els, here she comes.
Enter Beatrice.
Hero Good morrow coze.
Beat. Good morrow sweete Hero.
Hero Why how now? do you speake in the sicke tune?
Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes.
Mar Clap's into Light a loue, (that goes without a burden,)
do you sing it, and ile daunce it.
Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heels, then if your husband
haue stables enough youle see he shall lacke no barnes.
Mar. O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with my
heeles.
Beat. Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, tis time you were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho.
Mar. For a hauke, a horse, or a husband?
Beat. For the letter that begins them al, H.
�Mar. Wel, and you be not turnde Turke, theres no more
sayling by the starre.
Beat. What meanes the foole trow?
Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their hearts desire.
Hero These gloues the Counte sent me, they are an excellent perfume.
Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell.
Mar. A maide and stuft! theres goodly catching of
colde.
Beat. O God help me, God help me, how long haue you
profest apprehension?
Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become me
rarely?
Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in your
cap, by my troth I am sicke.
Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus,
and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualme.
Hero There thou prickst her with a thissel.
Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some moral in this
benedictus.
Mar. Morall? no by my troth I haue no morall meaning,
I meant plaine holy thissel, you may thinke perchaunce that I
think you are in loue, nay birlady I am not such a foole to think
what I list, nor I list not to thinke what I can, nor indeed I can
not think, if I would thinke my heart out of thinking, that you
are in loue, or that you will be in loue, or that you can be in
loue: yet Benedicke was such another, and now is he become a
man, he swore he would neuer marry, and yet now in dispight
of his heart he eates his meate without grudging, and how you
may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with
�your eies as other women do.
Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes?
Marg. Not a false gallop.
Enter Vrsula.
Vrsula Madame withdraw, the prince, the Count, signior
Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are
come to fetch you to church.
Hero Help to dresse me good coze, good Meg, good Vrsula.
Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.
Leonato What would you with me, honest neighbour?
Const. Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence with
you, that decernes you nearely.
Leonato Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time with
me.
Const. Dog. Mary this it is sir.
Headb. Yes in truth it is sir.
Leonato What is it my good friends?
Con. Do. Goodman Verges sir speaks a little of the matter,
an old man sir, and his wittes are not so blunt, as God helpe I
would desire they were, but infaith honest, as the skin between
his browes.
Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing,
that is an old man, and no honester then I.
Const. Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour
Verges.
Leonato Neighbors, you are tedious.
Const. Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the
poore Dukes officers, but truly for mine owne part, if I were as
tedious as a King I could find in my heart to bestow it all of
your worship.
�Leonato Al thy tediousnesse on me, ah?
Const. Dog. Yea, and't twere a thousand pound more than tis,
for I heare as good exclamation on your worshippe as of any
man in the citie, and though I be but a poore man, I am glad to
heare it.
Head. And so am I.
Leonato I would faine know what you haue to say.
Head. Mary sir our watch to night, excepting your worships presence, ha tane a couple of as arrant knaues as any in
Messina.
Const. Dog. A good old man sir, he will be talking as they
say, when the age is in, the wit is out, God help vs, it is a world
to see: well said yfaith neighbour Verges, well, God's a good
man, and two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my troth he is, as euer broke bread, but
God is to be worshipt, all men are not alike, alas good neighbour.
Leonato Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you.
Const. Do. Gifts that God giues.
Leonato I must leaue you.
Const. Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede comprehended two aspitious persons, and wee woulde haue them
this morning examined before your worship.
Leonato Take their examination your selfe, and bring it me,
I am now in great haste, as it may appeare vnto you.
Constable It shall be suffigance.
Leonato Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well.
(exit
Messenger My lord, they stay for you, to giue your daughter to her husband.
Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready.
�Dogb. Go good partner, goe get you to Francis Sea-cole,
bid him bring his penne and inckehorne to the Gaole: we are
now to examination these men.
Verges And we must do it wisely.
Dogbery We will spare for no witte I warrant you: heeres
that shall driue some of them to a noncome, only get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication, and meet me
at the Iaile.
Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero, and Beatrice
Leonato Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine
forme of marriage, and you shall recount their particular dueties afterwards.
Fran. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.
Claudio No.
Leo To bee married to her: Frier, you come to marry her.
Frier Lady, you come hither to be married to this counte.
Hero I do.
Frier If either of you know any inward impediment why
you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your soules to
vtter it.
Claudio Know you any, Hero?
Hero None my lord.
Frier Know you any, Counte?
Leonato I dare make his answer, None.
Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men
daily do, not knowing what they do!
Bene. Howe nowe! interiections? why then, some be of
laughing, as, ah, ha, he.
Claudio Stand thee by Frier, father by your leaue,
Will you with free and vnconstrained soule
�Giue me this maide your daughter?
Leonata As freely sonne as God did giue her mee.
Claudio And what haue I to giue you backe whose woorth
May counterpoise this rich and pretious gift?
Princn Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe.
Claudio Sweete Prince, you learne me noble thankfulnes:
There Leonato, take her backe againe,
Giue not this rotten orenge to your friend,
Shee's but the signe and semblance of her honor:
Behold how like a maide she blushes heere!
O what authoritie and shew of truth
Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall!
Comes not that blood, as modest euidence,
To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare
All you that see her, that she were a maide,
By these exterior shewes? But she is none:
She knowes the heate of a luxurious bed:
Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie.
Leonato What do you meane, my lord?
Claudio Not to be married,
Not to knit my soule to an approoued wanton.
Leonato Deere my lord, if you in your owne proofe,
Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth,
And made defeate of her virginitie.
Claudio I know what you would say: if I haue knowne her,
You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the forehand sinne: No Leonato,
I neuer tempted her with word too large,
But as a brother to his sister, shewed
Bashfull sinceritie, and comelie loue.
Hero And seemde I euer otherwise to you?
�Claudio Out on thee seeming. I wil write against it,
You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe,
As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne:
But you are more intemperate in your blood,
Than Venus, or those pampred animalls,
That rage in sauage sensualitie.
Hero Is my Lord well that he doth speake so wide?
Leonato Sweete prince, why speake not you?
Prince What should I speake?
I stand dishonourd that haue gone about,
To lincke my deare friend to a common stale.
Leonato Are these things spoken, or do I but dreame?
Bastard Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
Bened. This lookes not like a nuptiall.
Hero True, O God!
Claud. Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the prince? is this the princes brother?
Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne?
Leonato All this is so, but what of this my Lord?
Claud. Let me but moue one question to your daughter,
And by that fatherly and kindly power,
That you haue in her, bid her answer truly.
Leonato I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
Hero O God defend me how am I beset,
What kind of catechising call you this?
Claud. To make you answer truly to your name.
Hero Is it not Hero, who can blot that name
With any iust reproch?
Claud. Mary that can Hero,
Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue.
What man was he talkt with you yesternight,
�Out at your window betwixt twelue and one?
Now if you are a maide, answer to this.
Hero I talkt with no man at that hower my lord.
Prince Why then are you no maiden. Leonato,
I am sory you must heare: vpon mine honor,
My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Counte
Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night,
Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window,
Who hath indeede most like a liberall villaine,
Confest the vile encounters they haue had
A thousand times in secret.
Iohn Fie, fie, they are not to be named my lord,
Not to be spoke of,
There is not chastitie enough in language,
Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty lady,
I am sory for thy much misgouernement.
Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou bin,
If halfe thy outward graces had bin placed,
About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart?
But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell
Thou pure impietie, and impious puritie,
For thee ile locke vp all the gates of Loue,
And on my eie-liddes shall Coniecture hang,
To turne all beautie into thoughts of harme,
And neuer shall it more be gracious.
Leonato Hath no mans dagger here a point for me.
Beatrice Why how now cosin, wherfore sinke you down?
Bastard Come let vs go: these things come thus to light,
Smother her spirits vp.
Benedicke How doth the Lady?
Beatrice Dead I thinke, help vncle,
�Hero, why Hero, vncle, signior Benedicke, Frier.
Leonato O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand,
Death is the fairest couer for her shame
That may be wisht for.
Beatrice How now cosin Hero?
Frier Haue comfort lady.
Leonato Dost thou looke vp?
Frier Yea, wherefore should she not?
Leonato Wherfore? why doth not euery earthly thing,
Cry shame vpon her? could she here deny
The story that is printed in her bloud?
Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eies:
For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirites were stronger than thy shames,
My selfe would on the rereward of reproches
Strike at thy life. Grieued I I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugall Natures frame?
O one too much by thee: why had I one?
Why euer wast thou louely in my eies?
Why had I not with charitable hand,
Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates,
Who smirched thus, and mired with infamy,
I might haue said, no part of it is mine,
This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loynes,
But mine and mine I loued, and mine I praisde,
And mine that I was prowd on mine so much,
That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine:
Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne,
Into a pit of incke, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe,
And salt too little, which may season giue
�To her foule tainted flesh.
Ben. Sir, sir, be patient, for my part I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say.
Beat. O on my soule my cosin is belied.
Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beat. No truly, not although vntill last night,
I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow.
Leon. Confirmd, confirmd, O that is stronger made,
Which was before bard vp with ribs of yron,
Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who loued her so, that speaking of her foulenesse,
Washt it with teares! hence from her, let her die.
Frier Heare me a little, for I haue only bin silent so long, &
giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting of the lady, I
haue markt,
A thousand blushing apparitions,
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames,
In angel whitenesse beate away those blushes,
And in her eie there hath appeard a fire,
To burne the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth: call me a foole,
Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations,
Which with experimental seale doth warrant
The tenure of my booke: trust not my age,
My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie,
If this sweete ladie lie not guiltlesse here,
Vnder some biting errour.
Leonato Frier, it cannot be,
Thou seest that al the grace that she hath left,
Is, that she will not adde to her damnation,
A sinne of periury, she not denies it:
�Why seekst thou then to couer with excuse,
That which appeares in proper nakednesse?
Frier Lady, what man is he you are accusde of?
Hero They know that do accuse me, I know none,
If I know more of any man aliue
Then that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sinnes lacke mercie, O my father,
Proue you that any man with me conuerst,
At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight
Maintaind the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.
Frier There is some strange misprision in the princes.
Bene. Two of them haue the very bent of honour,
And if their wisedomes be misled in this,
The practise of it liues in Iohn the Bastard,
Whose spirites toyle in frame of villanies.
Leonato I know not, if they speake but truth of her,
These hands shall teare her, if they wrong her honour,
The prowdest of them shal wel heare of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine,
Nor age so eate vp my inuention,
Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find awakte in such a kind,
Both strength of limbe, and policy of mind,
Ability in meanes, and choise of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
Frier Pawse awhile,
And let my counsell sway you in this case,
Your daughter here the princesse (left for dead,)
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
�And publish it, that she is dead indeede,
Maintaine a mourning ostentation,
And on your families old monument,
Hang mourneful epitaphes, and do all rites,
That appertaine vnto a buriall.
Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do?
Frier Mary this well caried, shall on her behalfe,
Change slaunder to remorse, that is some good,
But not for that dreame I on this strange course,
But on this trauaile looke for greater birth:
She dying, as it must be so maintaind,
Vpon the instant that she was accusde,
Shal be lamented, pittied, and excusde
Of euery hearer: for it so falls out,
That what we haue, we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enioy it, but being lackt and lost,
Why then we racke the valew, then we find
The vertue that possession would not shew vs
Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio:
When hee shall heare she died vpon his words,
Th Idaea of her life shall sweetly creepe,
Into his study of imagination,
And euery louely Organ of her life,
Shall come apparelld in more precious habite,
More moouing delicate, and full of life,
Into the eie and prospect of his soule
Then when she liude indeed: then shall he mourne,
If euer loue had interest in his liuer,
And wish he had not so accused her:
No, though he thought his accusation true:
Let this be so, and doubt not but successe
�Will fashion the euent in better shape,
Then I can lay it downe in likelihood.
But if all ayme but this be leuelld false,
The supposition of the ladies death,
Will quench the wonder of her infamie.
And if it sort not wel, you may conceale her,
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusiue and religious life,
Out of all eies, tongues, minds, and iniuries.
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you,
And though you know my inwardnesse and loue
Is very much vnto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this,
As secretly and iustly as your soule
Should with your body.
Leon. Being that I flow in griefe,
The smallest twine may leade me.
Frier Tis wel consented, presently away,
For to strange sores, strangely they straine the cure,
Come lady, die to liue, this wedding day
Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience and endure.
exit.
Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept al this while?
Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Bene. I will not desire that.
Beat. You haue no reason, I do it freely.
Bene. Surely I do beleeue your faire cosin is wronged.
Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of me that
would right her!
Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship?
Beat. A very euen way, but no such friend.
�Bene. May a man do it?
Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours.
Bene. I doe loue nothing in the worlde so well as you,
is not that strange?
Beat. As strange as the thing I knowe not, it were as possible for me to say, I loued nothing so wel as you, but beleue me
not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor I deny nothing, I
am sory for my coosin.
Bened. By my sword Beatrice, thou louest me.
Beat. Do not sweare and eate it.
Bened. I will sweare by it that you loue me, and I wil make
him eate it that sayes I loue not you.
Beat. Will you not eate your word?
Bened. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest I
loue thee.
Beat. Why then God forgiue me.
Bened. VVhat offence sweete Beatrice?
Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy houre, I was about
to protest I loued you.
Bened. And do it with all thy heart.
Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none is left
to protest.
Bened. Come bid me doe any thing for thee.
Beat. Kill Claudio.
Bened. Ha, not for the wide world.
Beat. You kill me to deny it, farewell.
Bened. Tarry sweete Beatrice.
Beat. I am gone, though I am here, there is no loue in you,
nay I pray you let me go.
Bened. Beatrice.
Beat. In faith I will go.
�Bened. VVeele be friends first.
Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight with
mine enemy.
Bened. Is Claudio thine enemy?
Beat. Is a not approoued in the height a villaine, that hath
slaundered, scorned, dishonored my kinswoman? O that I
were a man! what, beare her in hand, vntill they come to take
handes, and then with publike accusation vncouerd slaunder,
vnmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I woulde
eate his heart in the market place.
Bened. Heare me Beatrice.
Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper saying.
Bened. Nay but Beatrice.
Beat. Sweete Hero, she is wrongd, she is slaundred, shee is
vndone.
Bened. Beat?
Beat. Princes and Counties! surely a princely testimonie, a
goodly Counte, Counte Comfect, a sweete Gallant surely, O
that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend woulde
be a man for my sake! But manhoode is melted into cursies,
valour into complement, and men are only turnd into tongue,
and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only
tels a lie, and sweares it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a woman with grieuing.
Bened. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee.
Beatrice Vse it for my loue some other way than swearing
by it.
Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio hath
wrongd Hero?
Beatrice Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule.
Bened. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will
�kisse your hand, and so I leaue you: by this hand, Claudio shal
render me a deere account: as you heare of me, so think of me:
goe comforte your coosin, I must say she is dead, and so farewell.
Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne clearke
in gownes.
Keeper Is our whole dissembly appeard?
Cowley O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton.
Sexton Which be the malefactors?
Andrew Mary that am I, and my partner.
Cowley Nay thats certaine, we haue the exhibition to examine.
Sexton But which are the offenders? that are to be examined, let them come before maister constable.
Kemp Yea mary, let them come before mee, what is your
name, friend?
Bor. Borachio.
Ke. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra.
Con. I am a gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade.
Ke. Write downe maister gentleman Conrade: maisters,
do you serue God?
Both Yea sir we hope.
Kem. Write downe, that they hope they serue God: and
write God first, for God defend but God shoulde goe before
such villaines: maisters, it is prooued alreadie that you are little
better than false knaues, and it will go neere to be thought so
shortly, how answer you for your selues?
Con. Mary sir we say, we are none.
Kemp A maruellous witty fellowe I assure you, but I will
go about with him: come you hither sirra, a word in your eare
sir, I say to you it is thought you are false knaues.
�Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none.
Kemp VVel, stand aside, fore God they are both in a tale:
haue you writ downe, that they are none?
Sexton Master constable, you go not the way to examine,
you must call foorth the watch that are their accusers.
Kemp Yea mary, thats the eftest way, let the watch come
forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name accuse these
men.
Watch 1 This man said sir, that don Iohn the Princes brother was a villaine.
Kemp Write downe, prince Iohn a villaine: why this is flat
periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine.
Borachio Maister Constable.
Kemp Pray thee fellowe peace, I doe not like thy looke I
promise thee.
Sexton VVhat heard you him say else?
Watch 2 Mary that he had receiued a thousand duckats of
don Iohn, for accusing the Ladie Hero wrongfully.
Kemp Flat burglarie as euer was committed.
Const. Yea by masse that it is.
Sexton VVhat else fellow?
Watch 1 And that Counte Claudio did meane vppon his
wordes, to disgrace Hero before the whole assemblie, and not
marrie her.
Kemp O villaine! thou wilt be condemnd into euerlasting
redemption for this.
Sexton VVhat else?
Watch This is all.
Sexton And this is more masters then you can deny, prince
Iohn is this morning secretlie stolne awaie: Hero was in this
manner accusde, in this verie manner refusde, and vppon the
�griefe of this, sodainlie died: Maister Constable, let these men
be bound, and brought to Leonatoes, I will goe before and
shew him their examination.
Constable Come, let them be opiniond.
Couley Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe.
Kemp Gods my life, wheres the Sexton? let him write down
the Princes officer Coxcombe: come, bind them, thou naughty varlet.
Couley Away, you are an asse, you are an asse.
Kemp Doost thou not suspect my place? doost thou not
suspect my yeeres? O that he were here to write me downe an
asse! but maisters, remember that I am an asse, though it bee
not written downe, yet forget not that I am an asse: No thou
villaine, thou art full of pietie as shal be prou'de vpon thee by
good witnes, I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer,
and which is more, a housholder, and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as anie is in Messina, and one that knowes
the Law, goe to, and a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow
that hath had losses, and one that hath two gownes, and euery
thing hansome about him: bring him away: O that I had bin
writ downe an asse!
exit.
Enter Leonato and his brother.
Brother If you go on thus, you will kill your selfe,
And tis not wisedome thus to second griefe,
Against your selfe.
Leonato I pray thee cease thy counsaile,
Which falles into mine eares as profitlesse,
As water in a syue: giue not me counsaile,
Nor let no comforter delight mine eare,
But such a one whose wrongs doe sute with mine.
�Bring me a father that so lou'd his child,
Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmd like mine,
And bid him speake of patience,
Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine,
And let it answer euery straine for straine,
As thus for thus, and such a griefe for such,
In euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme:
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone,
Patch griefe with prouerbes, make misfortune drunke,
With candle-wasters: bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience:
But there is no such man, for brother, men
Can counsaile, and speake comfort to that griefe,
Which they themselues not feele, but tasting it,
Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before,
Would giue preceptiall medcine to rage,
Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred,
Charme ach with ayre, and agony with words,
No, no, tis all mens office, to speake patience
To those that wring vnder the loade of sorrow
But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie
To be so morall, when he shall endure
The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile,
My griefes crie lowder then aduertisement.
Brother Therein do men from children nothing differ.
Leonato I pray thee peace, I wil be flesh and bloud,
For there was neuer yet Philosopher,
That could endure the tooth-ake patiently,
How euer they haue writ the stile of gods,
And made a push at chance and sufferance.
�Brother Yet bend not all the harme vpon your selfe,
Make those that do offend you, suffer too.
Leonato There thou speakst reason, nay I will do so,
My soule doth tell me, Hero is belied,
And that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince,
And all of them that thus dishonour her.
Enter Prince and Claudio.
Brother Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily.
Prince Good den, good den.
Claudio Good day to both of you.
Leonato Heare you my Lords?
Prince We haue some haste Leonato.
Leonato Some haste my lord! well, fare you well my lord,
Are you so hasty now? wel, all is one.
Prince Nay do not quarrel with vs, good old man.
Brother If he could right himselfe with quarrelling,
Some of vs would lie low.
Claudio Who wrongs him?
Leona. Mary thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou:
Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword,
I feare thee not.
Claudio Mary beshrew my hand,
If it should giue your age such cause of feare,
Infaith my hand meant nothing to my sword.
Leonato Tush, tush man, neuer fleere and iest at me,
I speake not like a dotard, nor a foole,
As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge,
What I haue done being yong, or what would doe,
Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head,
Thou hast so wrongd mine innocent child and me,
That I am forst to lay my reuerence by,
�And with grey haires and bruise of many daies,
Do challenge thee to triall of a man,
I say thou hast belied mine innocent child.
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lies buried with her ancestors:
O in a toomb where neuer scandal slept,
Saue this of hers, framde by thy villanie.
Claudio My villany?
Leonato Thine Claudio, thine I say.
Prince You say not right old man.
Leonato My Lord, my Lord,
Ile prooue it on his body if he dare,
Dispight his nice fence, and his actiue practise,
His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood.
Claudio Away, I will not haue to doe with you.
Leonato Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child,
If thou kilst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
Brother He shal kill two of vs, and men indeed,
But thats no matter, let him kill one first:
Win me and weare me, let him answer me,
Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me
Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence,
Nay, as I am a gentleman I, will.
Leonato Brother.
Brother Content your self, God knowes, I loued my neece,
And she is dead, slanderd to death by villaines,
That dare as well answer a man indeed.
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue,
Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops.
Leonato Brother Anthony.
Brother Hold you content, what man! I know them, yea
�And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple,
Scambling out-facing, fashion-monging boies,
That lie, and cogge, and flout, depraue, and slaunder,
Go antiquely, and shew outward hidiousnesse,
And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst,
And this is all.
Leonato But brother Anthonie.
Brother Come tis no matter,
Do not you meddle, let me deale in this.
Prince Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience,
My heart is sory for your daughters death:
But on my honour she was chargde with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proofe.
Leonato My Lord, my Lord.
Prince I will not heare you.
Leo. No come brother, away, I wil be heard.
Exeunt amb.
Bro. And shal, or some of vs wil smart for it.
Enter Ben.
Prince See see, heere comes the man we went to seeke.
Claud. Now signior, what newes?
Bened. Good day my Lord:
Prince Welcome signior, you are almost come to parte almost a fray.
Claud. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt off
with two old men without teeth.
Prince Leonato and his brother what thinkst thou? had we
fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for them.
Bened. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came to
seeke you both.
�Claud. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for we
are high proofe melancholie, and would faine haue it beaten
away, wilt thou vse thy wit?
Bened. It is in my scabberd, shal I drawe it?
Prince Doest thou weare thy wit by thy side?
Claud. Neuer any did so, though very many haue been beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as wee doe the minstrels,
draw to pleasure vs.
Prince As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou
sicke, or angry?
Claud. What, courage man: what though care kild a catte,
thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
Bened. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and you
charge it against me, I pray you chuse another subiect
Claud. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was broke
crosse.
Prince By this light, he chaunges more and more, I thinke
he be angry indeed.
Claud. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle.
Bened. Shall I speake a word in your eare?
Claud. God blesse me from a challenge.
Bened. You are a villaine, I ieast not, I will make it good
howe you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: doe
mee right, or I will protest your cowardise: you haue killd a
sweeete Lady, and her death shall fall heauie on you, let me
heare from you.
Claud. Well I wil meet you, so I may haue good cheare.
Prince What, a feast, a feast?
Claud. I faith I thanke him he hath bid me to a calues head
& a capon, the which if I doe not carue most curiously, say my
kniffe's naught, shall I not find a woodcocke too?
�Bened. Sir your wit ambles well, it goes easily.
Prince Ile tell thee how Beatrice praisd thy witte the other
day: I said thou hadst a fine witte, true said she, a fine little one:
no said I, a great wit: right saies she, a great grosse one: nay said
I, a good wit, iust said she, it hurts no body: nay said I, the gentleman is wise: certaine said she, a wise gentleman: nay said I, he
hath the tongues: that I beleeue said shee, for he swore a thing
to mee on munday night, which hee forswore on tuesday morning, theres a double tongue theirs two tongues, thus did shee
an houre together trans-shape thy particular vertues, yet at last
she cõcluded with a sigh, thou wast the properst man in Italy.
Claud. For the which shee wept heartily and saide she cared not.
Prince Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if she did
not hate him deadly, she would loue him dearely, the old mans
daughter told vs all.
Claud. All all, and moreouer, God sawe him when he was
hid in the garden.
Prince But when shall we set the sauage bulles hornes one
the sensible Benedicks head?
Clau. Yea and text vnder-neath, here dwells Benedick the
married man.
Bened. Fare you wel, boy, you know my minde, I wil leaue
you now to your gossep-like humor, you breake iests as braggards do their blades, which God be thanked hurt not: my
Lord, for your many courtisies I thanke you, I must discontinue your company, your brother the bastard is fled from Messina:
you haue among you, kild a sweet and innocent lady: for
my Lord Lacke-beard, there hee and I shal meet, and till then
peace be with him.
Prince He is in earnest.
�Claudio In most profound earnest, and ile warrant you, for
the loue of Beatrice.
Prince And hath challengde thee.
Claudio Most sincerely.
Prince What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his
dublet and hose, and leaues off his wit!
Enter Constables, Conrade, and Borachio.
Claudio He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a
Doctor to such a man.
Prince But soft you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and be
sad, did he not say my brother was fled?
Const. Come you sir, if iustice cannot tame you, she shall
nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and you be a
cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to.
Prince How now, two of my brothers men bound? Borachio one.
Claudio Hearken after their offence my Lord.
Prince Officers, what offence haue these men done?
Const. Mary sir, they haue committed false report, moreouer they haue spoken vntruths, secondarily they are slanders,
sixt and lastly, they haue belyed a Lady, thirdly they haue verefied vniust thinges, and to conclude, they are lying knaues.
Prince. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdly I
ask thee whats their offence, sixt and lastly why they are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their charge.
Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and by
my troth theres one meaning wel suted.
Prince Who haue you offended maisters, that you are thus
bound to your answere? this learned Constable is too cunning
to be vnderstood, whats your offence?
Bor. Sweete prince, let me goe no farther to mine answere:
�do you heare me, and let this Counte kill me: I haue deceiued
euen your very eyes: what your wisedoms could not discouer,
these shallowe fooles haue broght to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed me to slaunder the Lady Hero, howe you were
brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Heroes garments, how you disgracde hir when you should marry
hir: my villany they haue vpon record, which I had rather seale
with my death, then repeate ouer to my shame: the lady is dead
vpon mine and my masters false accusation: and briefely, I desire nothing but the reward of a villaine.
Prince Runnes not this speech like yron through your
bloud?
Claud. I haue dronke poison whiles he vtterd it.
Prince But did my brother set thee on to this?
Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it.
Prince He is composde and framde of treacherie,
And fled he is vpon this villanie.
Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare
In the rare semblance that I lou'd it first.
Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time our
sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and masters, do not forget to specifie when time and place shal serue,
that I am an asse.
Con. 2 Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the
sexton too.
Enter Leonato, his brother, and the Sexton.
Leonato Which is the villaine? let me see his eies,
That when I note another man like him,
I may auoide him: which of these is he?
Bor. If you would know your wronger, looke on me.
�Leonato Art thou the slaue that with thy breath hast killd
Mine innocent child?
Bor. Yea, euen I alone.
Leo. No, not so villaine, thou beliest thy selfe,
Here stand a paire of honourable men,
A third is fled that had a hand in it:
I thanke you Princes for my daughters death,
Record it with your high and worthy deeds,
Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it.
Clau. I know not how to pray your pacience,
Yet I must speake, choose your reuenge your selfe,
Impose me to what penance your inuention
Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinnd I not,
But in mistaking.
Prince By my soule nor I,
And yet to satisfie this good old man,
I would bend vnder any heauy waight,
That heele enioyne me to.
Leonato I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue,
That were impossible, but I pray you both,
Possesse the people in Messina here,
How innocent she died, and if your loue
Can labour aught in sad inuention,
Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb,
And sing it to her bones, sing it to night:
To morrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my son in law,
Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copie of my child thats dead,
And she alone is heyre to both of vs,
Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin,
�And so dies my reuenge.
Claudio O noble sir!
Your ouer kindnesse doth wring teares from me,
I do embrace your offer and dispose,
For henceforth of poore Claudio.
Leonato To morrow then I wil expect your comming,
To night I take my leaue, this naughty man
Shal face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I beleeue was packt in al this wrong,
Hyred to it by your brother.
Bor. No by my soule she was not,
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,
But alwayes hath bin iust and vertuous,
In any thing that I do know by her.
Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white and
blacke, this plaintiffe heere, the offendour, did call me asse, I
beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment, and also
the watch heard them talke of one Deformed, they say he
weares a key in his eare and a locke hanging by it, and borows
monie in Gods name, the which he hath vsde so long, & neuer
paied, that now men grow hard hearted and wil lend nothing
for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point.
Leonato I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines.
Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankful and reuerent youth, and I praise God for you.
Leon. Theres for thy paines.
Const. God saue the foundation.
Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thanke
thee.
Const. I leaue an arrant knaue with your worship, which I
beseech your worship to correct your selfe, for the example of
�others: God keepe your worship, I wish your worship well,
God restore you to health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart
and if a merie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come
neighbour.
Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.
Brot. Farewell my lords, we looke for you to morrow.
Prince We will not faile.
Claud. To night ile mourne with Hero.
Leonato Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with Margaret, how her acquaintance grew with this lewd felow.
exeunt
Enter Benedicke and Margaret.
Bened. Praie thee sweete mistris Margaret, deserue well at
my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.
Mar. Wil you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beautie?
Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing shall
come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest it.
Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why shal I alwaies
keep below staires.
Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it
catches.
Mar. And your's, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit,
but hurt not.
Bene. A most manly witte Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the bucklers.
Marg. Giue vs the swordes, wee haue bucklers of our
owne.
Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must putte in the
pikes with a vice, and they are daungerous weapons for
�maides.
Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath
legges.
Exit Margarite.
Bene. And therefore wil come. The God of loue that sits
aboue, and knowes mee, and knowes me, how pittifull I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander the good
swimmer, Troilus the first imploier of pandars, and a whole
booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names
yet runne smoothly in the euen rode of a blancke verse, why
they were neuer so truly turnd ouer and ouer as my poore selfe
in loue: mary I cannot shew it in rime, I haue tried, I can finde
out no rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne,
horne, a hard rime: for schoole foole, a babling rime: very ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming plannet,
nor I cannot wooe in festiuall termes: sweete Beatrice wouldst
thou come when I cald thee?
Enter Beatrice.
Beat. Yea signior, and depart when you bid me.
Bene. O stay but till then.
Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you wel now, and yet ere I goe,
let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing what
hath past betweene you and Claudio.
Bene. Onely foule words, and therevpon I will kisse thee.
Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but
foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therfore I wil depart
vnkist.
Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sence,
so forcible is thy wit, but I must tel thee plainly, Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly heare from him,
or I will subscribe him a coward, and I pray thee now tell me,
�for which of my bad parts didst thou first fal in loue with me?
Beat. For them all together, which maintaind so politique
a state of euil, that they will not admitte any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first
suffer loue for me?
Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue indeed,
for I loue thee against my will.
Beat. In spight of your heart I thinke, alas poore heart, if
you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I wil neuer loue that which my friend hates.
Bene. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceably.
Beat. It appeares not in this confession, theres not one wise
man among twentie that will praise himselfe.
Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in the time
of good neighbours, if a man do not erect in this age his owne
toomb ere he dies, he shall liue no longer in monument, then
the bell rings, and the widow weepes.
Beat. And how long is that thinke you?
Bene. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quarter in
rhewme, therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don
worme (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to
be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my self so much
for praising my selfe, who I my selfe will beare witnes is praise
worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin?
Beat. Verie ill.
Bene. And how do you?
Beat. Verie ill too.
Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there wil I leaue you
too, for here comes one in haste.
Enter Vrsula.
Vrsula Madam, you must come to your vncle, yonders old
�coile at home, it is prooued my Lady Hero hath bin falsely accusde, the Prince and Claudio mightily abusde, and Don Iohn
is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently?
Beat. Will you go heare this newes signior?
Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in
thy eies: and moreouer, I wil go with thee to thy vncles.
exit.
Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with tapers.
Claudio Is this the monument of Leonato?
Lord It is my Lord. Epitaph.
Done to death by slauderous tongues,
Was the Hero that heere lies:
Death in guerdon of her wronges,
Giues her fame which neuer dies:
So the life that dyed with shame,
Liues in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there vpon the toomb,
Praising hir when I am dead.
Claudio Now musick sound & sing your solemne hymne.
Song Pardon goddesse of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight,
For the which with songs of woe,
Round about her tombe they goe:
Midnight assist our mone, help vs to sigh & grone.
Heauily heauily.
Graues yawne and yeeld your dead,
Till death be vttered,
Heauily heauily.
Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this
(right.
�Prince Good morrow maisters, put your torches out,
The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day
Before the wheeles of Phœbus, round about
Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey:
Thanks to you al, and leaue vs, fare you well.
Claudio Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way.
Prince Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes,
And then to Leonatoes we will goe.
Claudio And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds,
Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe.
exeunt.
Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero.
Frier Did I not tell you shee was innocent?
Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accusd her,
Vpon the errour that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will as it appeares,
In the true course of all the question.
Old Wel, I am glad that all things sorts so well.
Bened. And so am I, being else by faith enforst
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by your selues,
And when I send for you come hither masked:
The Prince and Claudio promisde by this howre
To visite me, you know your office brother,
You must be father to your brothers daughter,
And giue her to young Claudio.
Exeunt Ladies.
Old Which I will doe with confirmd countenance.
Bened. Frier, I must intreate your paines, I thinke.
�Frier To doe what Signior?
Bened. To bind me, or vndo me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of fauour.
Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, tis most true.
Bened. And I do with an eye of loue requite her.
Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me,
From Claudio and the Prince, but whats your will?
Bened. Your answere sir is enigmaticall,
But for my wil, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conioynd,
In the state of honorable marriage,
In which (good Frier) I shal desire your help.
Leo. My heart is with your liking.
Frier And my helpe.
Heere comes the Prince and Claudio.
Enter Prince, and Claudio, and two or three other.
Prince Good morrow to this faire assembly.
Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio:
We heere attend you, are you yet determined,
To day to marry with my brothers daughter?
Claud. Ile hold my mind were she an Ethiope.
Leo Call her foorth brother, heres the Frier ready.
P. Good morrow Bened. why whats the matter?
That you haue such a Februarie face,
So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse.
Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull:
Tush feare not man, weele tip thy hornes with gold,
And all Europa shall reioyce at thee,
As once Europa did at lustie Ioue,
When he would play the noble beast in loue.
�Bene. Bull Ioue sir had an amiable lowe,
And some such strange bull leapt your fathers cowe,
And got a calfe in that same noble feate,
Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleate.
Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula.
Clau. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings.
Which is the Lady I must seize vpon?
Leo. This same is she, and I do giue you her.
Claud. Why then shees mine, sweet, let me see your face.
Leon. No that you shall not till you take her hand,
Before this Frier, and sweare to marry hir.
Claud. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier,
I am your husband if you like of me.
Hero And when I liu'd I was your other wife,
And when you loued, you were my other husband.
Claud. Another Hero.
Hero Nothing certainer.
One Hero died defilde, but I do liue,
And surely as I liue, I am a maide.
Prince The former Hero, Hero that is dead.
Leon. She died my Lord, but whiles her slaunder liu'd.
Frier All this amazement can I qualifie,
When after that the holy rites are ended,
Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death,
Meane time let wonder seeme familiar,
And to the chappell let vs presently.
Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that name, what is your will?
Bene. Do not you loue me?
Beat. Why no, no more then reason.
Bene. Why then your vncle, and the prince, and Claudio,
�Haue beene deceiued, they swore you did.
Beat. Do not you loue me?
Bene. Troth no, no more then reason.
Beat. Why then my cosin Margaret and Vrsula
Are much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did.
Bene. They swore that you were almost sicke for me.
Beat. They swore that you were welnigh dead for me.
Bene. Tis no such matter, then you do not loue me.
Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence.
Leon. Come cosin, I am sure you loue the gentleman.
Clau. And ile besworne vpon't, that he loues her,
For heres a paper written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine,
Fashioned to Beatrice.
Hero And heres another,
Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket,
Containing her affection vnto Benedicke.
Bene. A miracle, heres our owne hands against our hearts:
come, I will haue thee, but by this light I take thee for pittie.
Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I yeeld
vpon great perswasion, and partly to saue your life, for I was
told, you were in a consumption.
Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth.
Prince. How dost thou Benedicke the married man?
Bene. Ile tel thee what prince: a colledge of witte-crackers
cannot flout me out of my humour, dost thou think I care for
a Satyre or an Epigramme? no, if a man will be beaten with
braines, a shall weare nothing hansome about him: in briefe,
since I doe purpose to marrie, I will think nothing to anie purpose that the world can saie against it, and therfore neuer flout
at me, for what I haue said against it: for man is a giddie thing,
�and this is my conclusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke
to haue beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman,
liue vnbruisde, and loue my cousen.
Clau. I had wel hopte thou wouldst haue denied Beatrice,
that I might haue cudgelld thee out of thy single life, to make
thee a double dealer, which out of question thou wilt be, if my
coosin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee.
Bene. Come, come, we are friends, lets haue a dance ere we
are maried, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues
heeles.
Leon. Weele haue dancing afterward.
Bene. First, of my worde, therefore plaie musicke, Prince,
thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no staffe
more reuerent then one tipt with horne.
Enter Messenger.
Mess. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight,
And brought with armed men backe to Messina.
Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise thee
braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers.
dance.
�
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<em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em>
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A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói
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A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi
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Almási Zsolt
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magyar és angol
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Much adoe about nothing (Kvartó)
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Kvartókiadás szövege
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A kvartókiadás digitális, betűhív átirata.
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William Shakespeare
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http://www.bl.uk/treasures/SiqDiscovery/ui/record.aspx?Source=text&LHCopy=47&LHPage=-2&RHCopy=47&RHPage=-1
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Andrew Wise
William Aspley
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1600.
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William Shakespeare
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Kvartó
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Much Ado About Nothing
Date
1600
Genre
Komédia
Language
angol
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könyv
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London
betűhív átirat
digitális szöveg
komédia
kvartókiadás
Sok hűhó semmiért
-
https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/3782f4e9306bfcbd9773fa4f114887fc.pdf
5a26fc0f563ab09f6d85115f85cca94a
PDF Text
Text
Much adoe about Nothing.
[Page 101]
Actus primus, Scena prima.
[Act 1, Scene 1]
Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, He
ro his daughter, and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger.
Leonato.
I Learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arra
gon, comes this night to Messina.
Mess.
He is very neere by this: he was not
three Leagues off when I left him.
Leon.
How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this
action?
Mess.
But few of any sort, and none of name.
Leon.
A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer
brings home full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Pe
ter hath bestowed much honor on a yong Florentine, cal
led Claudio.
Mess.
Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remem
bred by Don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the
promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the
feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expecta
tion, then you must expect of me to tell you how.
Leo.
He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very
much glad of it.
Mess.
I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there
appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could not
shew it selfe modest enough, without a badg of bit
ternesse.
Leo.
Did he breake out into teares?
Mess.
In great measure.
Leo.
A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no fa
ces truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much bet
ter is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping?
Bea.
I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from
the warres, or no?
Mess.
I know none of that name, Lady, there was
none such in the armie of any sort.
Leon.
What is he that you aske for Neece?
Hero.
My cousin meanes Signior Benedick of Padua
Mess.
O he's return'd, and as pleasant as euer he was.
Beat.
He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd
Cupid at the Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the
Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at
the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kil'd and
�eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for
indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing.
Leon.
'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too
much, but hee'l be meet with you, I doubt it not.
Mess.
He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars.
Beat.
You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to
ease it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an
excellent stomacke.
Mess.
And a good souldier too Lady.
Beat.
And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he
to a Lord?
Mess.
A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with
all honourable vertues.
Beat.
It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man:
but for the stuffing well, we are all mortall.
Leon.
You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is
a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her:
they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between
them.
Bea.
Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last con
flict, foure of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is
the whole man gouern'd with one: so that if hee haue
wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him beare it
for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it
is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable
creature. Who is his companion now? He hath
euery month a new sworne brother.
Mess.
[Is't] possible?
Beat.
Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as
the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with yͤnext block.
Mess.
I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your
bookes.
Bea.
No, and he were, I would burne my study. But
I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young
squarer now, [...]that will make a voyage with him to the
diuell?
Mess.
He is most in the company of the right noble
Claudio.
Beat.
O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease:
he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker
runs presently mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee
haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand
pound ere he be cur'd.
Mess.
I will hold friends with you Lady.
Bea.
�Do good friend.
Leo.
You'l ne're run mad Neece.
Bea.
No, not till a hot Ianuary.
Mess.
Don Pedro is approach'd.
Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar,
and Iohn the bastard.
Pedro.
Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet
your trouble: the fashion of the world is to auoid cost,
and you encounter it.
Leon.
Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes
of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should
remaine: but when you depart from me, sorrow abides,
and happinesse takes his leaue.
I3Pedro.
[Page 102]
Much adoe about Nothing.
Pedro.
You embrace your charge too willingly: I
thinke this is your daughter.
Leonato.
Her mother hath many times told me so.
Bened.
Were you in doubt that you askt her?
Leonato.
Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a
childe.
Pedro.
You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by
this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers
her selfe: be happie Lady, for you are like an honorable
father.
Ben.
If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not
haue his head on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him
as she is.
Beat.
I wonder that you will still be talking, signior
Benedicke, no body markes you.
Ben.
What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet
liuing?
Beat.
Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee
hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke?
Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in
her presence.
Bene.
Then is curtesie a turneČcoate, 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 (mÄ)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 marketČplace.
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 ouerČwhelmed 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 candleČwasters: 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 toothČake 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, milkeČsops.
Leon.
Brother Anthony.
Brot.
Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea
And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple,
�Scambling, outČfacing, fashionČmonging 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 transČshape 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 vnderČneath, heere dwells Bene
dicke the married man.
Ben.
Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will
leaue you now to your gossepČlike 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 LackeČ
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
hardĂharted 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 welČnye 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 (gentlemÄ)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 witteČ
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 (questiĹ)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
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Title
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<em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em>
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A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói
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Almási Zsolt
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Almási Zsolt
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magyar és angol
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Much adoe about Nothing (Első Fólió)
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Első Fólió kiadás szövege
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Az Első Fólió kiadás digitális, betűhív átirata.
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William Shakespeare
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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
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Isaac Iaggard
Edward Blount
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1623.
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pdf
Fólió
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angol
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komédia
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Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies
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I3r (101.)-L1r (121.)
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papír
Zotero
Author
William Shakespeare
Book Author
William Shakespeare
Artwork Medium
Könyv
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Fólió
Book Title
Much Ado About Nothing
Date
1623.
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Első Fólió
First Page
I3r
(101.)
Genre
Komédia
Language
angol
Medium
Könyv
Num Pages
21
Pages
I3r (101.) - L1r (121.)
Place
London
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Isaac Iaggard
Edward Blount
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betűhív átirat
digitális szöveg
fólió
komédia
Sok hűhó semmiért
-
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
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Almási Zsolt
Source
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Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek
Publisher
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Almási Zsolt
Language
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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.
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pdf
Könyv
Language
A language of the resource
angol
Type
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Komédia
Coverage
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Washington DC
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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
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https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/95fecce870d58ceb20b31efc9283ffa3.pdf
987199752a768ca51d654b34f3af5013
PDF Text
Text
Shakespeare
SOK HŰHÓ SEMMIÉRT
(Fordította: Arany László)
ELSŐ FELVONÁS.
I. SZÍN.
Leonato háza előtt
Leonato, Héro, Beátrisz, egy Futár s Kiséret jönnek.
LEONATO.
Úgy értesülök e levélből, Péter arragoniai herczeg ma estére Messinába érkezik.
FUTÁR.
Azóta közel is járhat; nem volt három mértföldre, a hol elhagytam.
LEONATO.
Sok vitézt veszítettetek ebben az ütközetben?
FUTÁR.
Kevés jelentőset; nevezetest egyet sem.
LEONATO.
Kétszeres diadal, ha a vezér teljes sorokat hoz haza. A mint itt látom, Péter herczeg nagyon
kitüntetett egy Claudio nevű flórenczi ifjút.
�FUTÁR.
Nagyon meg is érdemelte, de a herczeg is érdeme szerint emlékezett meg róla. Jobban viselte
magát, mint ifjú kora igérhette volna, s bárányi alakban oroszláni tetteket vitt végbe. Igazán,
messzebb túltett a várakozáson, mintsem tőlem várhatnák, hogy elbeszéljem.
LEONATO.
Van itt Messinában egy bátyja, annak ez nagy örömet szerez.
FUTÁR.
Már vittem is neki leveleket, s úgy látszott, nagyon örült nekik: olyan nagyon, hogy az öröm
nem tartóztathatta magát a keserüségnek jeleitől.
LEONATO.
Könnyekre fakadt?
FUTÁR.
Ugyancsak!
LEONATO.
Gyöngéd kiömlése a gyöngédségnek. Nincs igazabb arcz, mint a mit ilyen könnyek mosnak:
mennyivel jobb sírni az örömön, mint örülni a siralmon.
BEÁTRISZ.
Hát kérem, Rátarti úr visszatért-e a háborúzásból?
FUTÁR.
Ilyen nevü urat nem ismerek, kisasszony; olyan nem volt az egész seregben.
LEONATO.
Kit kérdesz te, húgom?
HÉRO.
�Bencze urat érti, a páduait.
FUTÁR.
Oh az visszajött, és jókedvű, mint mindig.
BEÁTRISZ.
Itt Messinában nyílt kihívást tűzött ki, s nyílversenyre hítta Cupidót; bátyám bohócza meg, a
kihívást olvasva, aláírta azt Cupido helyett, s viszont kihívta őt, de madárnyílra. – Ugyan
kérem, hányat ölt meg és mennyit evett ebben a háborúban? De először is, mennyit ölt? Mert
megigértem, megeszem, a mit megöl.
LEONATO.
Húgom, te sokat róvsz Bencze rovására; de majd megfelel ő magáért, tudom azt.
FUTÁR.
Ebben a háborúban jeles szolgálatokat tett.
BEÁTRISZ.
Talán sok volt a romlott étel, s azt segített megenni: hatalmas tráncsér-hős, kitünő étvágya
van.
FUTÁR.
És jó katona is, kisasszony.
BEÁTRISZ.
És jó katona is, kisasszonynak; de hát férfinak milyen?
FUTÁR.
Férfinak férfi, embernek ember, duzzad az erélytől.
BEÁTRISZ.
Meghiszem: duzzad a ruhája; no a mi a ruházatot…… Jó, jó; mindnyájan haladók vagyunk.
�LEONATO.
Uram, félre ne értsd a húgomat. Afféle pajkos háború foly közte és Bencze úr közt: sohasem
találkozhatnak, hogy kötődő élcz-ütközet ne támadjon köztök.
BEÁTRISZ.
A miben ő sohasem nyer. Utolsó ütközetünkből öt tehetsége közűl négy bénán ment haza s
most az egész embert csak egy igazgatja; ha még maradt annyi leleménye, hogy a hol fázik,
betakarja, ám hadd hordja ezt, megkülönböztetésűl a lovától, mert ennyiből áll egész kincse, a
miről értelmes teremtésnek ismerhetni. Ki most a pajtása? Neki minden hónapban új testilelki barátja van.
FUTÁR.
Hogy-hogy?
BEÁTRISZ.
Nagyon könnyen: a hűséget csak úgy viseli, mint a süvegjét: mindig az új divat szerint váltja.
FUTÁR.
Látom, kisasszony, ezt a leventét aligha írta barátai lajstromába.
BEÁTRISZ.
Ha benne volna, elégetném. De, kérem, mondja, ki a barátja? Nincs ott valami ifju szeleburdi,
a ki az ördöghöz akar vele útazni?
FUTÁR.
Többnyire a nemes Claudio társaságában van.
BEÁTRISZ.
Teremtőm! Erre úgy ráragad, mint a betegség: hamarabb megkapni, mint a pestist, s a ki
megkapja, belebomlik. Isten óvja a nemes Claudiót: ha megkapta a Benczét, ezer aranyába
kerül, míg kigyógyúl.
�FUTÁR.
Kisasszony, én önnel békét tartok.
BEÁTRISZ.
Szívesen, jó barát.
LEONATO.
Húgom, te ugyan sohasem esel mélabúba.
BEÁTRISZ.
Nem míg egy rekkenő január nem lesz.
FUTÁR.
Jön Péter herczeg.
Péter Herczeg, János, Claudio, Bencze, Boldizsár s többen jönnek.
HERCZEG.
Kedves Leonato úr, elénk jön, hogy bajt fogadjon bel. Más kerülni szokta a költekezést, ön
még keresi.
LEONATO.
Az én házamba sohasem jött baj a felséged képmásában: mert ha a baj elmegy, örömnek kell
ott maradni; de ha felséged távozik, csak bánatom marad, a boldogság búcsút vesz.
HERCZEG.
Igen szívesen veszi magára terhét. – Ez az ön leánya?
LEONATO.
Anyja úgy mondta.
BENCZE.
�Kételkedett benne, uram, hogy megkérdezte?
LEONATO.
Nem, Bencze úr; ön akkor még gyermek volt.
HERCZEG.
Ezt megkaptad, Bencze: ebből kitalálhatjuk, mi vagy, mióta megemberkedtél. – Igazán, a
leány egészen atyjára ütött. – Örüljön, kisasszony, mert egy tiszteletre méltó atyához hasonlít.
BENCZE.
Ha atyja is Leonato úr s bár mennyire hasonlítson hozzá, nem tenné vállára ennek a fejét
egész Messináért.
BEÁTRISZ.
Csodálom, Bencze úr, hogy beleszól; senki sem figyelt rá.
BENCZE.
Hogy-hogy, kedves Gáncs kisasszony, él még?
BEÁTRISZ.
Meghalhat-e a gáncs, míg ilyen ennivalót talál, mint Bencze úr? Maga az udvariasság is
gáncscsá változik át, ha ön a közelébe jut.
BENCZE.
Akkor az udvariasság köpönyegforgató. De az bizonyos, hogy engem minden hölgy szeret
önön kívül, s én szeretném, ha szivem azt súgná, hogy nem vagyok kemény szivű,
mert’ucscse, egyet sem szeretek.
BEÁTRISZ.
Drága szerencséje az asszonyoknak, különben egy konok üldöző zaklatná őket. Én hálát adok
az Istennek és hideg véremnek: részben egy értelemben vagyok önnel. Inkább hallgatnám,
hogy ugatja meg kutyám a varjakat, mint egy férfi szerelmi esküjét.
�BENCZE.
Isten tartsa meg ebben a gondolkodásban, egyik-másik úri ember megmenekűl a karmolt arcz
végzetétől.
BEÁTRISZ.
Nem sokat árthatna a karmolás, ha az az arcz olyan volna is, mint az öné.
BENCZE.
Ritka papagály-tanító!
BEÁTRISZ.
Inkább madár az én nyelvemmel, mint vad az önével.
BENCZE.
Bár a lovam volna olyan gyors, mint a nyelve, s olyan kitartó. De maradjon, kérem, Isten
hírével: én befejeztem.
BEÁTRISZ.
Mindig ilyen gebe-tréfával végezi: régen ismerem.
HERCZEG.
Száz szónak is egy a vége. Leonato – Claudio úr és Bencze úr! – érdemes barátunk Leonato
mindnyájatokat meghívott. Mondom neki, hogy mi legalább egy hónapig itt maradunk, és ő
mégis jó szivvel könyörög, bár tovább itt tartson valami véletlen; s esküdni mernék, hogy nem
képmutatásból, hanem szivéből könyörög.
LEONATO.
Bizony, nem esküdnék felséged hamisan. (Jánoshoz.) Hadd üdvözöljem önt is, uram:
kibékülvén herczegi bátyjával, fogadja teljes hódolatomat.
JÁNOS.
Köszönöm. Én nem vagyok sok beszédű ember, de köszönöm.
�LEONATO.
Tessék előre, felség!
HERCZEG.
Kezed’, Leonato; menjünk együtt.
(Mind el, kivéve Benczét és Claudiót.)
CLAUDIO.
Bencze! megjegyezted Leonato leányát?
BENCZE.
Meg nem jegyeztem, de láttam.
CLAUDIO.
Hát nem kedves egy leány?
BENCZE.
Egyszerű igaz véleményemet kérded-e, mint egyenes ember szokta kérdezni, vagy azt akarod,
hogy szokásom szerint a szép nem esküdt zsarnoka szóljon belőlem!
CLAUDIO.
Nem, nem: kérlek, szólj, józan itélettel.
BENCZE.
Hát biz ő, úgy gondolom, nagy dicsőitésre kicsi, nagy tündöklésre fekete, nagy
felmagasztalásra alacsony, ajánlására annyit mondhatok, ha más volna, mint a mi, nem volna
szép, s mivel nem más, mint a mi, én nem szerettem belé.
CLAUDIO.
Azt gondolod, tréfálok: kérlek, szólj komolyan, hogy tetszik?
BENCZE.
�Meg akarod venni, hogy úgy tudakozol utána?
CLAUDIO.
Megvehetne-é a világ ilyen kincset?
BENCZE.
Meg hát, s aztán tokot neki, a mibe tegye. De csakugyan komolyan beszélsz-e? vagy Csalóka
Péter módjára el akarod hitetni, hogy Cupido vak létére meglátja fektében a nyúlat s hogy
Vulkán nem kovács, hanem ács? Milyen kulcsból énekeljek, hogy bele találjak hangodba?
CLAUDIO.
Az én szememben Héro a leggyönyörűbb teremtés, a kit valaha láttam.
BENCZE.
Én is látok pápaszem nélkül, de effélét nem látok rajta: az unokahúga, csak ne volna olyan
szilaj, annyival túlhaladná szépségre, mint május elseje deczember utolját. De remélem, nem
akarsz megházasodni?
CLAUDIO.
Aligha bíznám magamban, bár megesküdtem volna is az ellenkezőre, ha Héro hozzám jönne.
BENCZE.
Csakugyan ennyire vagyunk? Hát nincs a világon ember, a ki süvegét gond nélkül akarná
hordani? Sohsem láthatok eztán hatvanas agglegényt? Csak rajta: ha nyakadat igába akarod
hajtani, tűrd a törését és sohajtozd el a vasárnapokat. – A herczeg visszajött, téged keres.
Péter Herczeg jő.
HERCZEG.
Micsoda titok tartott vissza, hogy nem jöttetek velünk Leonatóhoz?
BENCZE.
Szeretném, ha rászorítna felséged, hogy kimondjam.
�HERCZEG.
Hát parancsolom, jobbágyi hűségedre.
BENCZE.
Hallod ezt, gróf Claudio? Én tudok hallgatni, mint a néma, ezt meghiheted; de jobbágyi
hűségemre! jól megértsd, jobbágyi hűségemre. – Hát szerelmes. – Kibe? kérdezi, úgy-e,
fölséged? – Bizony a válasz rövid. Héróba, Leonato rövid leányába.
HERCZEG.
Ha úgy volna, mondta volna.
BENCZE.
Mint a régi nóta, uram: nem is volt úgy, most sincsen úgy, adja Isten, ne legyen úgy.
CLAUDIO.
Ha szenvedélyem meg nem változik, ne adja Isten, hogy máskép legyen.
HERCZEG.
Ámen, ha szereted: mert ez a hölgy nagyon érdemes reá.
CLAUDIO.
Azért mondja, fölség, hogy hitegessen?
HERCZEG.
Hitemre, azt mondom, a mit gondolok.
CLAUDIO.
Szavamra mondom én is azt.
BENCZE.
�Én pedig, hitemre és szavamra, azt, a mit én gondolok.
CLAUDIO.
Hogy szeretem, érzem.
HERCZEG.
Hogy érdemes rá, tudom.
BENCZE.
Hogy én se nem érzem, hogy lehet őt szeretni, se nem tudom, mivel érdemli: ez oly
meggyőződés, a mit a tűz sem olvaszthatna ki belőlem! kész volnék máglyán halni érte.
HERCZEG.
Te a szépség megtagadásában mindig ily makacs eretnek voltál.
CLAUDIO.
De csak akaratán tett erőszakkal tudja megállani a helyét.
BENCZE.
Hogy világra hozott egy asszony, köszönöm neki; hogy táplált, szintén alázatos köszönetet
mondok érte; de hogy szarut engedjek tűzni homlokomra s tülkömet ilyen láthatatlan szíjon
viseljem: már ezt bocsássák meg nekem az asszonyok. Mivel nem akarom őket azzal sérteni,
hogy valamennyiökben kételkedjem, úgy adok igazat magamnak, hogy egynek sem hiszek.
Elvégre (hogy ne jussak jégre) holtig legény maradok.
HERCZEG.
Látlak én még téged ez életben szerelemtől halványodva.
BENCZE.
Dühtől, betegségtől, éhségtől, meglehet, fölség; szerelemtől nem. Ha bebizonyítja, hogy
valaha több vért veszítek szerelem miatt, mint a mit itallal pótolok: szúrja ki a szememet egy
versfaragó pennájával s akaszszon ki egy bordélyház ajtajára, czégér gyanánt, a vak Cupido
helyett.
�HERCZEG.
Jól van, ha valaha e hittől eltérsz, jeles tanúságul szolgálsz.
BENCZE.
Ha eltérek, nem bánom, dugjanak üvegbe, mint egy macskát, s lőjetek rám czélba, és a ki
eltalál, veregessék meg a vállát és híják Ádámnak.
HERCZEG.
Majd megmutatja az idő:
„Akármilyen vad a bika,
Majd megtöri még az iga.”
BENCZE.
A vad bikát, meglehet; de ha valaha Bencze is érzelgősen aláhajtja a nyakát: messék ki a bika
szarvát s tűzzék az én homlokomra; festessenek le otrombán, és akkora betűkkel, mint azt
szokták kiírni: „Itt jó fuvaros-ló kapható”, írják alá a képemnek: „Itt láthatni Benczét,
megházasodva.”
CLAUDIO.
Sokat emlegeted a szarvakat!
HERCZEG.
Bizony, ha Ámor el nem pazarolta minden nyilát Velenczében, meglakolsz te ezért.
BENCZE.
Előbb kimozdul sarkából a föld!
HERCZEG.
Jó, jó: majd más hitre térít az idő. De most, barátom Bencze, siess Leonatóhoz, üdvözöld a
nevemben, s mondd meg neki, nem maradok el a vacsoráról, mert nagy készületeket tett
hozzá.
�BENCZE.
Megfelelek a küldetésnek emberséggel; ezzel ajánlom fölséged…
CLAUDIO.
Isten ótalmába; kelt saját lakomban, (ha volna)…
HERCZEG.
Július 6-án; szerető barátod Bencze m. k.
BENCZE.
Ej, ne tréfáljanak, ne tréfáljanak! Hiába csipkézik beszédjök szövetét ilyen ócska hulladékkal,
ha a csipke csak fityeg rajta. Ha ó szólásformákkal csúfolkodnak, előbb vessenek számot a
lelkiismeretökkel. De már megyek
(Bencze el.)
CLAUDIO.
Fölség, nekem most egy nagy jót tehet.
HERCZEG.
Szeretetem tied: tanítsd meg őt,
Mi jót tehet: meglásd, mi kész javadra
Akármilyen nehéz leczkét tanulni.
CLAUDIO.
Uram, van-é Leonatónak fia?
HERCZEG.
Nincs senki, Héro egyetlen leánya. Szereted őt, Claudio?
CLAUDIO.
Uram, mikor
E most bevégzett hadra készülődtünk,
�Katona-szemmel néztem még reá:
Tetszett bizony, de durvább munka várt rám,
Semmint az érzelem komolyra nőjön;
De visszatérve most s a harczi gondok
Elszállva fészkeikből: hült nyomokba
Szerelmi gyöngéd édes vágy tolúl,
Azt súgja-búgja, hogy Héró milyen szép,
S hogy őt szerettem már a harcz előtt.
HERCZEG.
No most szerelmesek módján beléfogsz,
S egész kötetnyi szóval fenyegetsz
Ha szereted szép Hérót, ám szeresd,
Beszélek véle én s atyjával is:
Ne félj, tied lesz. Nos, nem e miatt
Kezdtél-e szőni kedves vallomást?
CLAUDIO.
Gyorsan gyógyítja a szerelmi bajt,
Ha már az arczomon felismeri.
De, hogy szerelmem mohónak ne lássék,
Talán a kúra hosszabb is lehetne?
HERCZEG.
Mért lenne a híd szélesebb a víznél?
Mért adni többet annál, a mi kell?
S lásd, ennyi kész is: te szeretsz, ez egy;
Bajodra ír kell, ezt megszerzem én.
Ma este bál leszen, helyetted ott
Szerepet én játszom álruhában;
�Hérónak azt mondom, Claudio vagyok
Kitárom a keblébe szivemet,
Fülét erővel is rabbá teszem,
Meghódítom szerelmetes mesémmel,
Aztán megegyezünk atyjával is,
S a végeredmény az, hogy ő tied lesz.
De most dologra hát, lássunk utána.
(Mind el.)
II. SZÍN.
Szoba Leonato házában.
Leonato és Antonio.
LEONATO.
Hogy vagy, öcsém? Hol van a fiad? gondoskodott a zenéről?
ANTONIO.
Utána lát szorgalmasan. De, bátyám, különös újságot mondhatok, a miről nem is álmodtál.
LEONATO.
Valami jót?
ANTONIO.
Majd az eredmény üti rá a pecsétet; de a borítéka jó: kívül jót mutat. A herczeget és Claudiót,
a mint kertemben a sürű lombos fasor közt sétáltak, egyik emberem kihallgatta: a herczeg
fölfedezte Claudiónak, hogy ő szerelmes húgomba, a te leányodba, s hogy az éjjel meg is
akarja ezt neki vallani táncz közben; és ha leányod is beleegyez, mindjárt tarkón akarja
ragadni az időt, hogy veled is rögtön beszéljen.
LEONATO.
�Van annak a ficzkónak esze, a ki neked ezt mondta?
ANTONIO.
Ügyes, szemes legény; majd érte küldök: vallasd ki magad.
LEONATO.
Nem, nem: tartsuk álomnak míg be nem teljesűl; de leányomat mégis értesíteni kell, hogy
jobban kész legyen a válaszra, ha véletlenül mindez igaz lenne. Eredj beszélj vele. (Több
személy átmegy a színpadon.) Atyafiak, már tudjátok, mi a dolgotok. – Oh kérlek, barátom, te
gyere velem: reád nagy szükségem van. – Atyafi, el ne felejtsétek, hogy kevés az idő.
(El.)
III. SZÍN.
Más szoba Leonato házában.
János és Konrád.
KONRÁD.
Mi a manó, uram, miért ilyen mód nélkül szomorú?
JÁNOS.
Mód nélküli az ok is, a mi szomorít, azért szomorúságom is határtalan.
KONRÁD.
De az okosságra kellene hallgatni.
JÁNOS.
Ha rá hallgatok is, mi jót hoz?
KONRÁD.
Ha mindjárt orvoslást nem is, legalább békés türelmet.
�JÁNOS.
Csodálom, hogy te, a ki (mint mondod) Saturnus jegyében születtél, abban fáradozol, hogy
erkölcsi orvosságot alkalmazz gyilkos bajomra. Én nem tudom rejtegetni, a milyen vagyok;
nekem szomorkodnom kell, ha okom van rá, s nem mosolygok senki tréfájára; én eszem, ha
étvágyam van, és nem várok senki után; alszom, ha alhatnám, nem törődöm senki dolgával;
nevetek, ha kedvem van és nem czirogatok senkit, ha duzzog.
KONRÁD.
Igen, de nem szükség ezt oly igen kimutatni, míg észrevétlenűl is teheti. Múltkor pártot ütött
bátyja ellen, s ő csak nem rég fogadta vissza kegyelmébe, a hol bizony nem verhet erős
gyökeret, ha csak szép időjárással nem, a mit maga csinál magának; jó nyarat kell teremtenie
a saját aratásához.
JÁNOS.
Inkább lennék vad csipke a tüske közt, mint rózsa az ő kegyelmében; jobban összefér a
véremmel, hogy megvessen minden ember, mint az, hogy valakinek saraglyájába fogódzam,
kegyelmet lopni; e részben, bár udvarias hizelgőnek senki sem tarthat, azt nem tagadhatja,
hogy szókimondó ficzkó vagyok. Bíznak bennem, de szájkosárral; szabadon eresztenek, de
kolonczczal: biz én hát nem énekelek a kalitkában. Ha szám volna, harapnék; ha szabadságom
volna, élném világomat; de a mostani körűlmények közt, hadd legyek én, a mi vagyok: ne
törődjél azzal, hogy megváltoztass.
KONRÁD.
Elégedetlenségének nem veheti semmi hasznát!
JÁNOS.
Teljes hasznát kiveszem, mert mindig csak azt használom. Ki jön itt?
Borachio jő.
JÁNOS.
Mi újság, Borachio?
BORACHIO.
�Amonnan jövök a nagy vacsoráról. Bátyját, a herczeget, királyilag vendégelik Leonatónál;
aztán egy házassági tervről is tudok valamit.
JÁNOS.
Nem szolgálhatna-e ez a terv alapúl, hogy valami csalárdságot építsünk reá? Ki az a bolond, a
ki eljegyzi magát az örök nyugtalanságra?
BORACHIO.
Nem más, mint bátyjának jobb keze.
JÁNOS.
Kicsoda? a gyönyörűséges Claudio?
BORACHIO.
Épen ő.
JÁNOS.
Nyalka legény! Aztán kit, kit? merre pillantott?
BORACHIO.
Héróra, Leonato leányára és örökösére.
JÁNOS.
Jól megtollasodott tavaszi csibe! Hogy jutottál te mind e hírhez?
BORACHIO.
A szellőztetést bízták reám, s a mint egy dohos szobában hordoztuk a füstölőt, jön a herczeg
és Claudio karon fogva, komoly beszélgetés közt; én elbújtam a szőnyeg mögé, ott hallottam,
mikor megegyeztek, hogy a herczeg megkérje Hérót magának, s ha megkapja, adja át Claudio
grófnak.
JÁNOS.
�Jertek, jertek, menjünk oda: ez még táplálékot adhat az én elégedetlenségemnek. Az a nagyrakapó fattyú bukásom egész dicsőségében osztozik: ha bárhogyan gáncsot vethetek útjába,
megáldom érte magamat. Bennetek bízom: segítségemre lesztek?
KONRÁD.
Halálig, uram.
JÁNOS.
Jerünk a nagy vacsorához: annál nagyobb az újongásuk, hogy én fejet hajtok. Bár a szakács is
az én indulatommal volna! – Menjünk, kutassuk, mit lehet tenni?
BORACHIO.
Mi követjük hűségesen.
(Elmennek.)
MÁSODIK FELVONÁS.
I. SZÍN.
Csarnok Leonato házánál.
Leonato, Antonio, Héro, Beátrisz és mások.
LEONATO.
János gróf nem volt itt vacsorán?
ANTONIO.
Én nem láttam.
BEÁTRISZ.
�Milyen savanyú úr az a gróf: nem nézhetek rá, hogy egy óra múlva gyomorégést ne kapjak.
HÉRO.
Szörnyű mogorva hangulatú.
BEÁTRISZ.
Az volna a derék ember, a ki középúton járna közte és Bencze között: az egyik olyan, mint a
kőszent, egyet se szól; a másik olyan, mint úri asszony első gyermeke, mindig csacsog.
LEONATO.
Úgy hát felét Bencze nyelvének János gróf szájába, felét János gróf mogorvaságának Bencze
arczára…
BEÁTRISZ.
Jó lábbal, jó innal, elég pénzzel erszényében: az ilyen ember bátyám, akármelyik asszonyt
megkaphatná a világon,… ha meg tudná nyerni a jó indulatát.
LEONATO.
Biz Isten, húgom sohasem kapsz férjet, ha nem zabolázod a nyelvedet.
ANTONIO.
Igazán, nagyon hamis vagy.
BEÁTRISZ.
Nagyon hamis jobb, mint hamis: legalább nem szaporítom Isten adományát: mert meg van
írva, hogy „hamis borjúnak rövid szarvat ád az Isten,” a nagyon hamisnak tehát nem ád
semmilyet.
LEONATO.
Így hát, ha nagyon hamis vagy, neked nem ád az Isten semmilyen szarvat.
BEÁTRISZ.
�Nem, ha férjet nem ád; ezért az áldásért térden könyörgök neki minden este, minden reggel.
Teremtőm! el nem tudnák szenvedni egy férjet, a szakálas pofájával: inkább hálnék
szőrpokróczban.
LEONATO.
Akadhatsz olyan férjre is, a kinek nincs szakálla.
BEÁTRISZ.
Hát azzal mit csinálnék? Felöltöztessem a magam ruhájába, szobalányt neveljek belőle? A
melyiknek szakála van, az már nem ifjú; a melyiknek nincs szakála, az még nem ember: a ki
már nem ifjú, nem nekem való; a ki még nem ember, én nem vagyok neki való: tehát holtig
petrezselymet árulok.
LEONATO.
Az ördög veszi meg a te petrezselymedet.
BEÁTRISZ.
Igen? majd megkinálom vele; elmegyek a pokol kapujához; de tudom, be nem bocsát, elküld
onnan: „Eredj a mennyországba, Beátrisz, itt nincs hely a leányoknak;” én összeszedem a
petrezselymemet, fölmegyek Szent Péterhez, az égbe; az majd megmutatja, hol ülnek az
agglegények; ott élünk vigan, világfogytáig.
ANTONIO.
Jó, jó, húgom. (Héróhoz.) Remélem, te az apád szavára hallgatsz.
BEÁTRISZ.
Bizonyosan: neki kötelessége szép bókot csapni, s azt mondani: „Atyám, a mint önnek
tetszik;” de mindamellett, húgom, szép legyen ám a legény, vagy különben csapj egy másik
bókot, s mondd azt: „Atyám, a mint nekem tetszik.”
LEONATO.
Látlak én még téged, húgom, férjedhez simulva.
BEÁTRISZ.
�Addig ugyan nem, míg az Isten más agyagból nem alkotja a férfiakat, mint földből. Hát ne
sértené-e az a nőket, hogy rajtok egy maroknyi irdatlan por uralkodjék, hogy éltöket egy rakás
otromba sárra bízzák? Nem, bácsi, nekem egyik sem kell: Ádám ivadékai mind testvéreim:
bizony bűnnek tartanám, rokonomhoz menni nőül.
LEONATO.
Leányom, e ne felejtsd, a mit mondtam: ha a herczeg csakugyan körűlvesz, tudod már, mint
viseld magad’.
BEÁTRISZ.
A zenében lesz a hiba, húgom, ha idején férjhez nem jutsz. Ha a herczeg nagyon ostromolna,
mondd neki, hogy mértéket kell tartani mindenben, s így tánczolj ki a válasz elől. Mert lásd,
Héro, az eljegyzés, az esküvő, meg a megbánás olyan, mint a kopogós, a minét, meg a
keringő: az első heves, eleven, mint a kopogós, csupa tűz és csapongás; az esküvő illedelmes,
módos, mint a minét, egészen ünnepélyes és méltóságos; s aztán következik a megbánás,
előbb lassan, azután mindig sebesebben, sebesebben, míg a sírjába nem szédűl.
LEONATO.
Húgom, te gonosz színben látod a földi pályát.
BEÁTRISZ.
Csak jó a szemem, bácsi, meglátom fényes nappal a templomot.
LEONATO.
Jönnek az álarczos vendégek; öcsém, adjunk helyet!
Péter herczeg, Claudio, Bencze, Boldizsár, János, Borachio, Margit, Ursula és mások jönnek
álarczban.
HERCZEG.
Szép hölgy, megnyerheti egy sétára hódolója?
HÉRO.
�Ha lassan sétál, nyájasan néz és egyet sem szól, öné vagyok a sétára, kivált mikor odább
sétálok.
HERCZEG.
Társaságban velem?
HÉRO.
Talán úgy is, ha kedvem lesz.
HERCZEG.
Mikor lesz kedve?
HÉRO.
Ha megtetszik arcza: mert Isten őrizzen, hogy olyan legyen a lant is, a milyen a tokja.
HERCZEG.
Az én álarczom Philemon kunyhója, benn a házban Jupiter tanyáz.
HÉRO.
Akkor álarcza zsúpos volna.
(Félrevonúlnak.)
MARGIT.
Halkan szólj, ha szerelemről beszélsz.
BOLDIZSÁR.
Jól van. Szeretném, hogy szeress.
MARGIT.
Én nem szeretném, saját jóvoltodért nem, mert sok rossz tulajdonságom van.
�BOLDIZSÁR.
Mondj egyet.
MARGIT.
Hangosan imádkozom.
BOLDIZSÁR.
Annál jobban szeretlek érte: a hallgató rámondhatja az áment.
MARGIT.
Adjon Isten nekem jó tánczost!
BOLDIZSÁR.
Ámen.
MARGIT.
Aztán távolítsa el tőlem, mihelyt vége a táncznak! – Felelj, ministráns!
BOLDIZSÁR.
Egy szót sem: a ministráns nem felelős.
URSULA.
Ismerlek jól, Antonio úr.
ANTONIO.
Szavamra, mondom, nem az vagyok.
URSULA.
Ismerlek a fejed rezgéséről.
(Félrevonúlnak.)
�ANTONIO.
Hogy megmondjam az igazat, ezt csak utánozom.
URSULA.
Sohasem tudnád azt olyan ügyes-ügyetlenül, ha ő maga nem volnál. Itt van az ő száraz keze
szőröstül-bőröstül: az vagy, az vagy.
ANTONIO.
Szavamra mondom, nem vagyok.
URSULA.
Eredj, eredj! azt gondolod, nem megismerlek kitünő elmésségedről. Elrejtőzhetik-e az erény?
Menj, hallgass, az vagy. A báj mindig kitünik. Elég, elég.
(Félrevonúlnak.)
BEÁTRISZ.
Nem mondanád meg, ki beszélte azt rólam?
BENCZE.
Nem, bocsáss meg.
BEÁTRISZ.
Sem azt, hogy ki vagy te?
BENCZE.
Most nem.
BEÁTRISZ.
Hogy én kényes vagyok és minden elmésségemet a „Száz víg adoma” gyüjteményből szedem.
Ezt nem mondhatta más, mint Bencze úr.
BENCZE.
Ki az?
�BEÁTRISZ.
Bizonyos vagyok, hogy jól ismered.
BENCZE.
Nem én, igazán nem.
BEÁTRISZ.
Sohasem nevettetett meg?
BENCZE.
De hát ki és mi ő?
BEÁTRISZ.
A herczeg bohócza: igazi sületlen bohócz; csak az a jó tulajdona van, hogy hihetetlen
rágalmakat terjeszt. Más nem gyönyörködik benne, csak a léhaság; nem is eszéért kedvelik,
hanem fogyatkozásáért: mert mulattatja is, bosszantja is őket; nevetnek is rajta és verik is
értte. Bizonyosan most is itt van, ebben az árban: szeretném, ha hajómhoz ütődnék.
BENCZE.
Ha megismerem, elbeszélem neki, mint mondtál.
BEÁTRISZ.
Igen, igen: ő majd hozzám sújt egy-két hasonlatot, a mit ha véletlenül nem vesznek észre,
vagy nem nevetnek rajta, e miatt búskomorságba esik, s akkor egy fogoly szárnya megmaradt,
mert, a balga, nem vacsorál egész este. (Benn zene.) Menjünk a vezetők után.
BENCZE.
Minden jóba.
BEÁTRISZ.
Ha rosszra vezetnek, ott hagyom őket a másik fordulónál.
�Táncz. Aztán mind elmennek, csak János, Borachio és Claudio maradnak.
JÁNOS.
Bizonyos, a bátyám szerelmes Héróba; félrevonúlt atyjával, hogy nyilatkozzék előtte. A nők
is kimennek, csak egy álarczos marad.
BORACHIO.
Ez Claudio: ismerem a tartásáról.
JÁNOS.
Nem Bencze úr ön?
CLAUDIO.
Jól találta, az vagyok.
JÁNOS.
Uram, a bátyám szerelmes Héróba; ön nagy kegyben áll nála: kérem, beszélje le erről a
szerelemről: az a leány nem hozzá való. Becsületes emberhez illő szolgálatot tesz ön vele.
CLAUDIO.
Honnan tudja, hogy a herczeg szerelmes Héróba?
JÁNOS.
Hallottam, mikor hűséget esküdött neki.
BORACHIO.
Hallottam én is; megesküdött, hogy még ma este nőül veszi.
JÁNOS.
Hallottam, mikor hűséget esküdött neki.
�BORACHIO.
Hallottam én is; megesküdött, hogy még ma este nőül veszi.
JÁNOS.
Gyere, menjünk a vacsorához.
(János és Borachio el.)
CLAUDIO.
Bencze nevében szóltam így, de
Claudio fülével hallom a gonosz hírt.
Bizonynyal úgy van: a herczeg magának
Akarja megszerezni. A barátság
Lehet talán szilárd akármi másban,
De a szerelem dolgában nem az.
Azért saját nyelvével szóljon és
Saját szemével lásson a szerelmes,
Ne bízza másra: a szépség lidércz:
Varázslatán a hűség vérbe olvad.
Hisz mindez oly midennapos eset,
S én bíztam!… Oh Héró, Isten veled!
Bencze visszajő.
BENCZE.
Gróf Claudio?
CLAUDIO.
Az vagyok.
BENCZE.
No, gyere velem.
�CLAUDIO.
Hova?
BENCZE.
A legközelebbi szomorúfűzfához, épen a te dolgodban. Milyen divat szerint hordod majd a
fűzkoszorút: a nyakadon-e, mint a tőzsér az aranylánczot? vagy a derekadon, mint katonatiszt
a kardkötőjét! Így, vagy amúgy, de hordanod kell, mert a herczeg elvette Héródat.
CLAUDIO.
Adjon Isten hozzá szerencsét!
BENCZE.
Ez már becsületes kupecz módjára van mondva: az is ezzel adja el a jószágát. De gondoltad-e,
hogy a herczeg így bánjék veled?
CLAUDIO.
Kérlek, hagyj magamra.
BENCZE.
Ha-hó! most már ütsz-vágsz, mint a vak koldus: a gyerek csente el a kenyeredet s te az ágast
ütöd!
CLAUDIO.
Ha te nem mégysz, itt hagylak én.
(El.)
BENCZE.
Oh szegény megsebzett madár! Most elbuvik a sásba. – Hanem, hogy engem az a Beátrisz
akar is ösmerni meg nem is! Én, a herczeg bolondja! – Biz az meglehet, hogy ezt a czímet
kaptam, mert víg vagyok. – Hm; de ni-ni, már kész volnék magam ártani magamnak: hiszen
nem állok én oly rossz hírben; csak Beátrisznak álnok szeszélye az egész; a világ szerepét
magára veszi és annak szájába adja, a mit ő fog reám. Jól van, majd bosszút állok, a hogy
lehet.
�Péter Herczeg visszajő.
HERCZEG.
Barátom, hol van a gróf? Nem láttad?
BENCZE.
De bizony, fölséges uram; én az imént Fáma kisasszony szerepét játszottam. Itt találtam őt,
olyan búsan, mint egy erdei lak. Elmondtam neki (azt hiszem, igazat mondtam), hogy
fölséged megnyerte ez s ez kisasszony vonzalmát, és ajánlkoztam mellé úti társúl a
legközelebbi fűzfáig, hogy ott vagy koszorút kössünk, mert elhagyta a babája, vagy virgácsot
fonjunk, mert megérdemli a verést.
HERCZEG.
A verést? Hát mi a hibája?
BENCZE.
Az az együgyű vétek, a mi az iskolás gyermeké, a ki nagy örömében, hogy madárfészket
talált, megmutatja azt pajtásának, ez meg aztán elszedi.
HERCZEG.
Te a bizalmadból vétket csinálnál. A vétek azé, a ki elszedte tőle.
BENCZE.
Úgy sem veszne kárba, ha elkészült volna a virgács, meg a koszorú: a koszorút elviselné ő, a
virgácsot pedig fölségednek lehetne ajánlani, a ki, azt gondolom, elszedte a madár fészkét.
HERCZEG.
Én csak meg akarom tanítani énekelni, s aztán visszaadom a gazdájának.
BENCZE.
Ha az ének összevág ezzel a beszéddel, akkor ez igazán szép beszéd.
HERCZEG.
�Hanem Beátrisz kisasszonynak pöre van veled: egy tánczosa megmondta neki, hogy te sokat
bántod.
BENCZE.
Ohó, ő kínozott meg engem, hogy egy tuskó se állta volna ki; egy cserfatő, ha csak egyetlen
zöld levél van rajta, nem tűrte volna szó nélkül; már álarczom is kezdett megelevenedni és
csufolódni vele. Azt beszélte nekem (nem gondolva, hogy épen velem beszél), hogy a herczeg
bohócza vagyok, hogy léhább vagyok, mint a lágy-idő; és szórta rám egyik gúnyt a másik
után, oly hihetetlen özönnel, hogy én csak álltam, mint az egyszeri ember a czéltábla mellett,
melyre egész hadsereg lövöldöz. Beszéde tőr, minden szava szúr; ha lehellete is olyan
rettenetes volna, mint a csetepatéja, nem maradna élő a közelében, megmérgezne mindent,
egész az éjszaki csillagig. Én nőül nem venném, ha mindaz rá szállna is, a mi Ádámé volt a
bűnbe-esés előtt: rá tudná szorítani Herkulest a nyársforgatásra, sőt felapríttatná vele a
buzogányát, hogy a tüzet is megrakja belőle. Ej, ne is beszéljünk róla: meglássa, ez a leány
maga a pokolbeli Áte, csak a ruhája jobb. Adná Isten, hogy valami tudós megint visszaidézné
oda: mert míg itt van, a pokolban bizonyosan olyan nyugton lehet élni, mint akármelyik
sekrestyében, s az emberek szántszándékkal követik el a bűnt, mivel oda akarnak jutni: így
valósággal minden zavar, rémület és háborúság az ő nyomán jár.
Claudio, Beátrisz, Héro, Leonato jönnek.
HERCZEG.
Nézd, itt jő.
BENCZE.
Nincs felségednek valami rám bízni valója a világ túlsó végén? Most szivesen elmegyek az
Antipodesekhez a legcsekélyebb apróságért, a mi fölségednek eszébe jut: hozok egy
fogpiszkálót Ázsia legútolsó széléről; elhozom a János pap lába nyomának mértékét; csenek
egy szálat a nagy khán szakálából; vagy követségbe indulok a Pigmäusokhoz inkább, mint
három szót váltsak ezzel a harpiával. Nem parancsol velem?
HERCZEG.
Nem; csak kérlek, maradj velünk.
BENCZE.
Oh teremtőm, de itt egy olyan tál van, a miből én nem ehetném: nem férhetek össze
Csupanyelv asszonysággal.
(El.)
�HERCZEG.
Lám, lám, kisasszony, elveszítette Bencze úr szivét.
BEÁTRISZ.
Igazán el, fölség: előbb egy időre ide adta kölcsön s én kamatot is adtam rá, kettős szivet
egyért; de nem régiben visszanyerte hamis koczkán: jól mondja fölséged, hogy elveszítettem.
HERCZEG.
Ezzel leterítette őt, kisasszony, igazán leterítette.
BEÁTRISZ.
Nem szeretném, hogy ő terített volna le; bizony bolondok anyjává lennék. Ime, elhoztam gróf
Claudiót, a kit fölséged értem küldött.
HERCZEG.
Nos, grófom, hogy és mint? miért vagy olyan szomorú?
CLAUDIO.
Nem vagyok én szomorú, fölség.
HERCZEG.
Hát? Beteg?
CLAUDIO.
Az sem, uram.
BEÁTRISZ.
A gróf se szomorú, se beteg, se víg, se egészséges: olyan édes, mint a czitrom, és épen olyan
féltékeny színű.
HERCZEG.
�Bizony, kisasszony, azt hiszem, jól magyarázza a czímlapját; de ha a grófnak csakugyan az a
baja, biz Isten, balul vélekedik. Nos, Claudio, megkértem nevedben a szép Hérót, s meg is van
nyerve; beszéltem atyjával, az ő áldása biztosítva; a házasság napja kitüzve: adjon Isten neked
boldogságot!
LEONATO.
Gróf, fogadd leányomat és vele vagyonomat: ő félsége szőtte e házasságot s a mennyei fölség
áment mond reá.
BEÁTRISZ.
Szóljon, gróf úr: kegyeden a sor.
CLAUDIO.
Hallgatás az öröm legjobb hirnöke: nagyon kevéssé volnék boldog, ha ki tudnám mondani,
mennyire az vagyok. Kisasszony, a mint ön az enyim, én az öné vagyok: oda adom magam’
egészen és epedek a cseréért.
BEÁTRISZ.
Szólj, húgom, vagy ha nem tudsz, tapaszd be száját egy csókkal, ne hagyd beszélni őt se.
HERCZEG.
Lelkemre, kisasszony, kegyednek víg a szive is.
BEÁTRISZ.
Hála Istennek, fölség, biz ez a szegény bohó sziv mindig szél védte oldalra húzódik a bú elől.
– Húgom azt súgja a gróf fülébe, hogy a gróf benn a szivébe’.
CLAUDIO.
Igazán, édes rokon.
BEÁTRISZ.
Teremtőm, adj házasságot! Így visznek minden leányt világra, csak engem aszal el a nap.
Ülhetek a sutba, férjért pityeregni.
�HERCZEG.
Teremtsek-e rögtön egyet?
BEÁTRISZ.
Jobb szeretnék a fölséged atyja teremtéséből. Nem volt fölségednek soha olyan öcscse, mint
maga? Atyja pompás férjeket teremtett, csak leány kellene melléjök.
HERCZEG.
Elfogadna-e engem, kisasszony?
BEÁTRISZ.
Nem én, fölség, míg mást kaphatok hétköznapra: fölséged nagyon drága volna mindennapi
viselőnek. – De, alásan esedezem, bocsásson meg fölséged: én csak tréfás beszédre születtem,
nem komoly ügyekre.
HERCZEG.
Hallgatása legjobban sértene engem; vidámsága legjobban áll önnek: mert kétségkivül víg
órában született.
BEÁTRISZ.
Azaz, fölség, az anyám bizony sikolthatott; de volt fölöttem egy csillag, melynek fénye
tánczra rezgett, az alatt születtem én (Héróhoz és Claudióhoz.) Kedves rokonok, Isten adjon
nektek sok örömet.
LEONATO.
Húgom, utána látsz-e annak a dolognak, a miről szóltam?
BEÁTRISZ.
Jaj, bácsi, irgalom, kegyelem! – Bocsánat, fölség!
HERCZEG.
Lelkemre mondom, eleven kedvű leány.
(Beátrisz el.)
�LEONATO.
Nem igen van melancholikus elem benne, fölség; nem komoly ez soha, csak ha alszik; de még
akkor sem: a leányomtól hallottam, hogy olykor, ha rosszat álmodik, fölkaczag s arra
fölébred.
HERCZEG.
Férjről hallani sem akar.
LEONATO.
Oh, semmi szín alatt; minden kérőjét kitréfálja a sodrából.
HERCZEG.
Pompás feleség volna Benczének.
LEONATO.
Teremtőm! ha egy hétig együtt élnének, agyon beszélnék egymást.
HERCZEG.
Claudio, mikor akarsz a pap elébe menni?
CLAUDIO.
Holnap, uram; mankón halad az idő, míg a szerelem túl nincs minden szertatáson.
LEONATO.
A jövő hétfőig nem, édes fiam, a mi mához épen egy hét; így is rövid az idő, hogy mindent
kedvemre elrendezhessünk.
HERCZEG.
Ej, no, fejet csóválsz erre a hosszú lélekzetvételre; de ne félj, Claudio, ez az idő nem mulik
tőlünk lomhán. Egy herkulesi munkát akarok ez alatt végbe vinni, a mi abból áll, hogy
Benczét és Beátriszt egymáshoz kapcsoljam a vonzalomnak egész hegylánczával. Szeretném,
�hogy házasság legyen belőle, s nincs kétségem, hogy kikerekíthetjük, ha ti hárman
segítségemre lesztek, a mint én az utasítást adom.
LEONATO.
Uram, én parancsára állok, ha tíz éjjeli virrasztásomba kerül is.
CLAUDIO.
Én is, fölség.
HERCZEG.
Hát ön, kedves Héró?
HÉRO.
Én is kész vagyok minden illő szolgálatra, hogy unokatestvéremet jó férjhez juttassuk.
HERCZEG.
Nem is olyan kétségbeesett vőlegény ám Bencze. Annyit mondhatok, hogy nemes törzsből
való, kipróbált bátorságú, szilárd becsületességű ember. Majd megtanítom önt, mikép
hangolja unokatestvérét, hogy szerelembe essék Bencze iránt; magam pedig, a kettőtök
segítségével, majd Benczét veszem körül, hogy fürge elméje és finnyás étvágya daczára
szerelembe essék Beátrisz iránt. Ha ezt ki tudja vinni, Cupido eldobhatja nyilait, mienk lesz a
dicsősége, mert csak mi vagyunk a szerelemistenek. Gyertek velem, majd elmondom a csel
tervét.
(Mind el.)
II. SZÍN.
Más szoba Leonato házában.
János és Borachio.
JÁNOS.
Úgy van, Claudio gróf elveszi Leonato leányát.
�BORACHIO.
Igen, uram; de én keresztet vethetek útjába.
JÁNOS.
Akármilyen kereszt, gát vagy akadály, az nekem orvosság lesz: beteg vagyok bele, úgy
gyűlölöm, s a mi az ő érzelmét visszásan éri, az enyimet egyenesen gyógyítja. Hogy vethetsz
keresztet e házasság elé?
BORACHIO.
Nem becsületesen, uram, de olyan jól eltakarva, hogy semmi becstelenség nem látszik ki
alóla.
JÁNOS.
Add elő röviden.
BORACHIO.
Gondolom, mondtam már kegyelmességednek, most egy éve, hogy mily bizalmasan állok
Margittal, Héro társalgónőjével.
JÁNOS.
Emlékszem.
BORACHIO.
Rávehetem, hogy akármilyen késő óráján az éjszakának kinézzen kisasszonya szobájának
ablakából.
JÁNOS.
S mi lesz ebben életre való, a mi halált hozhat ama házasságra?
BORACHIO.
A méreg ott lappang, csak keverni kell. Ön elmegy bátyjához, a herczeghez; nem kiméli a
szót; elmondja neki, hogy bizony árt a saját becsületének, ha a derék Claudiót (a kinek
�magasztalását ön is hatalmasan tódítja) olyan szennyes személylyel házasítja össze, mint
Héro.
JÁNOS.
Mivel adhatok erről bizonyítékot?
BORACHIO.
Lesz elég bizonyíték, hogy megcsalja a herczeget, kétségbeejtse Claudiót, tönkre tegye Hérót
és megölje Leonatót. Kell egyéb eredmény?
JÁNOS.
Csak keseríthessük őket, akármire vállalkozom.
BORACHIO.
Menjen hát; lessen ki alkalmas órát, hívja félre bizalmasan Péter herczeget és Claudiót,
mondja nekik, hogy ön tudja, hogy Héro az én szeretőm; úgy mutassa, mintha féltené a
herczeget és Claudiót, mintha szivén viselné bátyja becsületét, a ki ezt a házasságot szőtte és
az ő barátja jó hírét, a kit meg akarnak csalni egy hajadonnak látszó leánynyal, mintha csak
azért fedezne föl mindent. Ők aligha hiszik ezt bizonyíték nélkül; de ajánljon nekik próbát, a
mi a legélethívebb lesz: hadd lássanak engem Héro ablakánál, hadd hallják, mikor Margitot
Hérónak nevezem s Margit engem Claudiónak; hívja oda őket, hadd lássák ezt épen az esküvő
előtti éjszakán: mert én az alatt úgy rendezem a dolgot, hogy Héro távol lesz és hűtlensége
olyan tiszta igazságnak látszik, hogy azt a féltékenység bizonyosság gyanánt veszi, s minden
eddigi készülődés felfordul.
JÁNOS.
Ám nője ki magát mindez, a mint nőheti, bárha ellenem is, én megkisérlem.
BORACHIO.
Legyen a vádaskodásban szilárd; engem ravaszságom nem hagy szégyenben.
JÁNOS.
Megyek tüstént, a házasság napját megtudni.
�III. SZÍN.
Leonato kertjében.
Bencze.
BENCZE.
Hej, fiú!
Egy Fiú jön.
FIÚ.
Tessék!
BENCZE.
Oda benn az ablakban van egy könyv: hozd ki ide a kertbe.
FIÚ.
Már itt is vagyok, uram.
BENCZE.
Azt tudom; de úgy szeretném, hogy már oda volnál s megint itt. (A fiú el.) Csodálom, hogy az
ember, látva a másikat, milyen bolond, mikor a szivét szerelemre adja, mégis, miután
nagyokat nevetett mások hülye bolondságán, szerelembe eshetik és saját gúnyjának tárgyává
teszi magát. Pedig ilyen ember Claudio. Emlékezem, mikor még egyéb zene nem is volt neki,
mind a dob és a tárogató; most szivesebben hallgatja a kobozt és a fuvolát. Emlékezem, mikor
még tíz mértföldre gyalogolt volna, hogy egy szép fegyverzetet lásson; most tíz éjszaka
álmatlanul elheverne, hogy egy új mellény szabásán törje az eszét. Eddig kereken szokott
szólani a dolog velejéhez, mint tisztességes emberhez és katonához illik, most a szócsintan
hive lett, szavai egy egész czifra ebédet képeznek, mind megannyi egy különcz tál étel.
Változhatom-e én ekkorát, míg a magam szemével látok? Nem mondhatom meg; nem
gondolom; esküdni ugyan nem mernék, tán engem is osztrigává puhíthat a szerelem; de már
arra hitet teszek, hogy míg osztrigává nem változhat, ilyen bolondot nem csinál belőlem.
Egyik asszony szép, de én helyt állok; a másik eszes, de én helyt állok: míg csak minden báj
nem egyesül egy asszonyban, engem egyik sem bájol el. Gazdag legyen, az bizonyos; eszes,
mert különben nem kell; erényes, különben nem hederítek rá; szép, vagy rá se nézek; nyájas,
vagy ne is jöjjön közel hozzám; nemes, mert különben én leszek „nem”-es; jó társalgó, kitünő
�zenész, s aztán a haja lehet olyan színű, a milyet az Isten adott neki. – Ahá, a herczeg és a
szerelmes úrfi. Elbúvok a lugasba.
(Félrevonúl.)
Péter herczeg, Leonato, Claudio, aztán Boldizsár és Zenészek jönnek.
HERCZEG.
No, meghallgassuk e zenét?
CLAUDIO.
Igen,
Fölség. Mi szép az este: minth’ azért
Pihenne így, hogy szebb legyen zenénk.
HERCZEG.
Láttad, hová rejtőzött Bencze?
CLAUDIO.
Igen: ha a zenének vége lesz,
Kiugrasszuk a rókát a bokorból.
HERCZEG.
No, Boldizsár, hogy is volt hát az a dal?
BOLDIZSÁR.
Fölség, ne mérje rám, rossz énekemre,
Hogy a zenét rontsam másodszor is.
HERCZEG.
Ez is csak a kitünőség jele:
Álarcz alá rejted művészeted.
Kérlek, dalolj, ne kéresd magad’ tovább.
�BOLDIZSÁR.
Ha kéretésről szól, úgy dalolok;
Hiszen sok kérő kér meg oly leányt,
Kit nem hisz érdemesnek, s mégis kéri,
Sőt esküszik, hogy őt imádja.
HERCZEG.
Kérlek,
Ha még tovább akarsz vitázni, tedd
Kótára.
BOLDIZSÁR.
Oh, uram, mind összevéve
Kótát, nótát, együtt sem ér egy jótát.
HERCZEG.
Ej, ej, ne pengesd: többet ér dalod, mint
E toldta-foldta kóta-nóta-jóta.
(Zene.)
BENCZE.
(félre).
No most, isteni zene! most el van a lelke ragadtatva. Hát nem furcsa az, hogy a juh-bél
kiragadja a lelket az emberi testből? Csakugyan kürtöltetek kedvemre egyet a magam pénzén,
ha ennek vége lesz.
BOLDIZSÁR.
(énekel).
Lányok ne sirjatok, hiszen
A férfiak mind csalárdak:
�Fél lábok parton, fél vizen,
Egyhez soh’ sem szilárdak.
Rájok se hajts,
Ne is sohajts,
Ne búslakodj’ hijába,
Bút és panaszt dalolva fojts
Vidám hejeh-hujáhba.
*
Ne énekelj bús-méla dalt
Az elmult szebb időrül;
Mindig így volt: a férfi csalt,
Mióta fű-fa zöldül.
Rájok se hajts stb.
HERCZEG.
Igazán mondom, jó dal.
BOLDIZSÁR.
De rossz dalos, uram.
HERCZEG.
De bizony nem; elég jól énekelsz te műkedvelőnek.
BENCZE.
(félre).
Ha egy eb vonyított volna így, azt agyony ütnék érte. Adja isten, hogy ez az ordítás ne
jelentsen semmi veszedelmet; én legalább szivesebben hallgattam volna a holló-károgást,
pedig azt valami csapás szokta kisérni.
HERCZEG.
Úgy, igaz! hallod-e, Boldizsár? Szerezz nekünk valami kitünő zenészeket, mert holnap estére
Héro kisasszony ablakához akarjuk rendelni.
�BOLDIZSÁR.
A milyet csak teremthetek, felséges uram.
HERCZEG.
Úgy, úgy! Isten veled!
(Boldizsár és a Zenészek el.)
HERCZEG.
Gyere csak, Leonato: mit is beszéltél te nekem ma, hogy húgod, Beátrisz, szerelmes
Benczébe?
CLAUDIO.
Hm, hm. (Félre Péter herczeghez.) Csak vigyázva, ott lapul a madár. (Fen.) Sohasem
gondoltam volna, hogy ez a leány akárkit is megszeressen.
LEONATO.
Biz én sem; de csodálatos, hogy épen Benczét szerette meg, a kit gyűlölni látszott egész külső
magaviseletéből.
BENCZE.
(félre).
Lehetséges-e? Hát innen fúj a szél?
LEONATO.
Csakugyan, felséges uram, nem tudom, mit gondoljak róla; de hogy olyan őrületes
szenvedélylyel szereti, az már túljár az emberi ész határán.
HERCZEG.
Talán csak szinleli?
CLAUDIO.
�Az valószínű.
LEONATO.
Oh én Istenem! szinleli! Nem járhat szinlelt szenvedély soha oly közel az élő szenvedélyhez,
mint nála nyilvánul.
HERCZEG.
Milyen jeleit mutatja e szenvedélynek?
CLAUDIO.
(félre).
Csak tartsuk jól a horgot, pedzi már a hal.
LEONATO.
Milyen jeleit, uram? Úgy el-űl magányosan – (Claudióhoz) hiszen neked mondta a lányom,
hogyan.
CLAUDIO.
Mondta, mondta.
HERCZEG.
Hogy-hogy? kérlek. Egészen elámúlok; azt gondoltam volna, ennek a leánynak a lelke ellenáll
a szerelem minden rohamának.
LEONATO.
Én meg is mertem volna rá esküdni, fölség; kivált Bencze irányában.
BENCZE.
(félre). Cselnek hinnám az egészet, ha ez az ősz szakálu legény nem mondaná; de kujonság
nem bújhat ilyen tisztes mezbe.
CLAUDIO.
�(félre).
Már kapkod a maszlaghoz, csak tartani kell.
HERCZEG.
Tudatta-e szerelmét Benczével?
LEONATO.
Nem; sőt fogadja, hogy nem is tudatja soha: ez gyötri szegényt.
CLAUDIO.
Épen ez a baj, a mint Héro beszéli „Hogy írjam én – azt mondja – a ki annyiszor gúnyolódtam
vele, hogy írjam most, hogy szeretem őt?”
LEONATO.
Ezzel végzi mindannyiszor, ha írni kezd: mert húszszor is fölkel egy éjjel, oda űl
hálóköntösében, s egész ív papirt teleír. Leányom mindent elmond.
CLAUDIO.
Az ív papirról jut szembe, a mit ma beszélt Héro.
LEONATO.
Oh, hogy a teleírt papirra tekintve, azon egyebet sem látott, mint Benczét és Beátriszt.
CLAUDIO.
Igen, igen.
LEONATO.
De ezer darabra tépte a papirt, mint egy-egy kis pénz; aztán kinevette maga magát, hogy írni
akar olyaskihez, a kiről tudja, hogy kigúnyolná. „Magamról itéltem meg,” azt mondja, „mert
én is kicsufolnám, ha ő írna nekem: ki én ha szeretem is.”
CLAUDIO.
�Aztán térdre esik, sír, zokog, veri a mellét, tépi a haját, könyörög, jajgat. – „Oh, édes Bencze!
Istenem, adj türelmet!”
LEONATO.
Így tesz, igazán: leányom mondja. A rajongás annyira erőt vesz rajta, hogy Héro néha attól
fél, valami kétségbeesett őrjöngést követ el magán. Sajnos, hogy így van.
HERCZEG.
Jó volna, hogy Bencze tudná meg valaki mástól, ha ő maga nem akarja elárulni előtte.
CLAUDIO.
Mit érne? Csak térfát űzne belőle s még jobban gyötörné szegény leányt.
HERCZEG.
Ha megtenné, kegyes tett volna felkötni érte. Beátrisz kitünő kedves, derék leány s még a
rágalom sem meri bántani.
CLAUDIO.
És kiválóan okos.
HERCZEG.
Csak abban nem, hogy Benczét szereti.
LEONATO.
Oh, fölség, ha okosság és hő vér ilyen gyönge testben összevész, tizet teheti egyre, hogy a vér
lesz a győztes. Én nagyon sajnálom, van is okom rá, mert bátyja és gyámja vagyok.
HERCZEG.
Bár hozzám vonzódnék hajlama: félretennék minden egyéb tekintetet, hogy magamévá
tegyem. Kérlek, beszéljetek Benczével, tudjuk meg, mit mond reá?
LEONATO.
�Gondolja fölség, jó lenne?
CLAUDIO.
Héró bizonyosnak hiszi, hogy belehel Beátrisz: mert azt mondja, ő meghal, ha Bencze nem
szereti; de inkább meghal, mint saját szerelmét tudassa vele; és inkább meghal, ha megkérné
is Bencze, mint szokott makranczosságából egy cseppet is engedjen.
HERCZEG.
Jól teszi: ha gyöngéden nyilvánítaná szerelmét, nagyon lehet, Bencze kigúnyolná: mert ez az
ember, a mint tudjátok, szeret fitymálódni.
CLAUDIO.
Hanem nyalka legény.
HERCZEG.
Az igaz, hogy csínos külsővel van megáldva.
CLAUDIO.
Isten kegyelméből, az én véleményem szerint, esze is van.
HERCZEG.
Valóban akad nála olyan szikra, a mi elmésségnek megjárja.
LEONATO.
Úgy tudom, bátor is.
HERCZEG.
Mint maga Hektor, erről biztosítlak; czivódások elintézésében pedig mondhatni, igazi bölcs:
mert vagy nagy ildommal lecsillapítja, vagy csak a legnagyobb keresztyéni félelemmel fog
hozzá.
LEONATO.
�Ha istenfélő, akkor szükségkép békét kell tartania, s ha megszegi, félelemmel és rettegéssel
fogjon a czivódáshoz.
HERCZEG.
Úgy is cselekszik: mert ez az ember isténfélő, ha nem látszik is némely vastag tréfájából. –
No én sajnálom a húgodat. Megkeressük-e Benczét, hogy húgod szerelméről értesítsük?
CLAUDIO.
Soha, fölség: majd Beátrisz is csillapul a jó tanácsra.
LEONATO.
Az lehetetlen: inkább szive csillapul el végkép.
HERCZEG.
Majd többet hallunk róla leányodtól; addig hadd hűljön. Én szeretem Benczét, s kivánom, bár
mérné meg szerényen magát, hadd lássa, mennyire érdemetlen ő ilyen derék leányra.
LEONATO.
Fölség, kész a ebéd, tessék besétálni.
CLAUDIO.
(félre).
Ha erre sem szeret bele, többé nem bízom semmi várakozásomban.
HERCZEG.
(félre).
Ezt a hálót kell kivetni Beátrisz ellen is; de ez leányodnak és társalgónőjének a gondja. Az
lesz aztán a tréfa, mikor egymást minden alap nélkül kölcsönösen szerelmesnek vélik;
szeretném látni ezt a jelenetet: hihetőleg csupa merő néma-játék lesz. Majd küldjük ki a
leányt, hogy emezt hívja ebédre.
(Péter herczeg, Claudio és Leonato el.)
BENCZE.
�(előjöve a lugosból).
Ez nem lehet csalás; a tanácskozás komolyan folyt. Hérótól hallották egész valóságában. Úgy
látszik, szánják a leányt, kinek szenvedélye a legvégsőig van feszítve. Szerelmes én belém!
No ezt viszonozni kell. Hiszen hallom, hogy itélnek rólam; azt mondják, majd kevélyen
viselem magamat, ha észreveszem, hogy ő szeret; azt is mondják, hogy a leány inkább
meghal, mint érzelmét bármi jel által elárulja. Én sohase gondoltam a házasságra. Kevélynek
nem akarok látszani. Szerencsés, a ki meghallja saját fogyatkozásait, s jóvá teheti azokat. Azt
mondják, hogy a leány szép: ez igaz, ezt én is bizonyítom; erényes is: ez is való, nem
tagadhatom; meg okos is, csak abban nem, hogy belém szeretett. Ez bizony nem igen
gyarapítja az okosságát, de oktalanságát sem bizonyítja, mert én is rettenetes szerelmes leszek
ő belé. Ezért, tudom, sok csípős tréfát és élczeket szórnak ellenem, mert mindig gúnyolódtam
a házassággal. De nem változik-e az étvágy? Fiatal korában sok olyan ételt szeret az ember, a
mit öregségében már nem állhat. A csipkedések, birálgatások, az agynak e papirlövegei,
elijeszszék-e az embert jó kedvének útjából? Nem: a világot népesíteni kell. Mikor én azt
mondtam, hogy legényfejjel halok meg, nem gondoltam, hogy éljek, míg megházasadom. –
Jön Beátrisz. A napsugárra mondom, szép egy leány: némi jelét a szerelemnek már veszem
észre rajta.
Beátrisz jő.
BEÁTRISZ.
Akaratom ellen küldtek, hogy hívjam önt ebédre.
BENCZE.
Szép Beátrisz, köszönöm a fáradságát.
BEÁTRISZ.
Nem fáradtam többet e köszönetért, mint ön fárad e köszönettel; ha fárasztó lett volna, nem
jöttem volna.
BENCZE.
Tehát kedve telt a küldetésben?
BEÁTRISZ.
Annyi, a mennyit egy kés hegyére vehet, hogy egy csókát megmérgezzen vele. – Önnek nincs
étvágya: jó mulatást!
(El.)
�BENCZE.
Ahá! „Akaratom ellen küldtek, hogy hívjam önt ebédre:” ez kétértelmű. „Nem fáradtam
többet e köszönetért, mint ön fárad e köszönettel:” ez azt teszik, hogy: akármi fáradság, a mit
önért teszek, olyan könnyü, mint egy köszönet. Gazember legyek, ha nem sajnálom; zsidó
legyek, ha bele nem szerettem. Megyek, megszerzem az arczképét.
(El.)
HARMADIK FELVONÁS.
I. SZÍN.
Leonato kertje.
Héro, Margit és Ursula jönnek.
HÉRO.
Jó Margitom, szaladj csak a szobába,
Beátrisz a herczeggel s Claudióval
Ott társalognak: a mint megtalálod,
Súgd meg neki, hogy én és Ursula
Itt séta közben mind őt emlegetjük;
Mondd, hogy te is sokáig hallgatóztál
S kérd, hogy lopódzék e sürű lugosba,
Hol a folyondár, melyet a nap érlelt,
Kizárja a napot, mint a kegyencz,
Kit a király teremt s ki gőgösen
Szülő hatalma ellen fordul. Itt
Elbújva ő is mindent hallhat. Ezt
Bízom reád, ügyes légy, most eredj.
MARGIT.
Biztos lehet, hogy rögtön elhozom.
�(El.)
HÉRO.
No, Ursulám, mikor kijön Beátrisz,
Míg itt föl és alá sétálgatunk,
Csak Bencze úr felől fogunk beszélni;
Ha én nevét említem, a te dolgod
Dicsérni úgy, mint még embert soha!
Én azt beszélem el, milyen szerelmes
Beatriszunkba: e csel ajzza föl
A kis Cupidónak csalárd nyilát,
Mely hallgatózva is sebez. No kezdjük.
Beátrisz jő hátul.
Mert nézd: Beátrisz, mint bíbicz, lopózik,
Földhöz lapúlva, hogy titkunk kilesse.
URSULA.
Szép látni a halat, horgászva, hogy vág
Ezüst habon arany szárnyával át
S hogy kapja el, mohón csal-ételét:
Így lessük itt Beátriszot, ki épen
Most búvik a folyondárok mögé.
Ne féljen, én mondókámat tudom.
HÉRO.
Jerünk közel, hogy semmit el ne ejtsen
Édes csalételünkből a füle. – (Közelebb mennek a lugashoz.)
Nem, Ursulám, nem, ő nagyon kevély;
Én ismerem; kedélye oly szilaj, vad,
Mint bérczi sólyom.
�URSULA.
Ugy, de biztos-e
Hogy Bencze úr olyan forrán imádja?
HÉRO.
Jegyesem mondja és a herczeg is.
URSULA.
S mondták-e, hogy Beátriszszal közölje?
HÉRO.
Kértek nagyon, hogy mondjam el neki;
De lebeszéltem őket, mert ha Benczét
Szeretik, akkor inkább hagyni kell
Küzködni őt e gyötrő érzelemmel,
És nem tudatni Beátriszszal soha.
URSULA.
De hát miért? Nem érdemelne-é
Ez a levente ollyan bolgod ágyat,
A milyenen Beátrisz fog nyugodni?
HÉRO.
Oh szerelemnek istene! Dehogy nem!
Megérdemel jobbat, mint bárki más.
De a természet nem formált soha
Olyan kemény anyagból női szívet,
Mint a Beátriszé: gúny, gőg czikázik
Szikrázva a szemében; megveti,
�A mire csak tekint; úgy túlbecsűli
Saját eszét, hogy ahhoz mérve mindent
Fitymál, kicsínyel; ő szeretni nem tud,
Sem elfogadni bárminő alakban
Ily érzeményt: magát oly nagyra tartja.
URSULA.
Igaz, tudom. Bizony nem volna jó,
Ha sejtené a Bencze úr szerelmét:
Mert csúfot űzne aztán ezzel is.
HÉRO.
Természetes. Nincs férfi, bármilyen
Eszes, derék, ifjú, sugár növésű,
Hogy ő ne a visszájáról betűzze;
Ha arcza fínom: húgom-asszonyos,
Ha barna: a természet által ejtett
Torz tintafolt; ha szálas: dárdanyél;
Ha alacsony: kontár agát-szoborka;
Ha bőbeszédű: forgó szélkakas;
Ha hallgatag: fa-tuskó, szája-táti,
Mindenkit a fonák felére fordit,
S való erény sem éri nála el,
Mit egyszerű hűség megérdemel.
URSULA.
Ez a csufolkodás nem épp ajánló.
HÉRO.
Nem; ily csodálatos különcz modor, mint
�Beátriszé, ajánló nem lehet
Hanem ki merné mondani neki?
Ha szólanék: szemtől-szembe kigúnyol,
Agyon-nevet, kiforgat enmagamból.
Tehát had’ égjen s mint az eltakart tűz
Emészsze Bencze még búban magát.
Jobb, ily halál, mint a gúny ölje meg,
Minél agyon-csiklandozás se rosszabb.
URSULA.
Tán mégis értesítse s lássa, mit szól?
HÉRO.
Nem én, nem: inkább Benczéhez megyek,
Annak tanácslom, nyomja el szerelmét;
Majd holmi ártatlan rágalmat is
Kigondolok s Beátriszot bemártom.
Mert meg se hiszszük ám, hogy meg lehet
Mérgezni egy rossz szóval a szerelmet.
URSULA.
Oh, még se bántson így meg egy rokont:
Hisz, a ki oly elmés és gyors eszü,
Mint róla mondják, az még sem lehet
Oly oktalan, hogy így elútasítson
Ily ritka férfiút, mint Bencze úr.
HÉRO.
Páratlan ember ő Itáliában,
Az én kedves Claudiómat kivéve.
�URSULA.
Ha nem neheztel érte a kisasszony,
Kimondom a hitem’, hogy Bencze úr
Alakra, észre, férfi-érdemekre
Egész Itáliában a legelső.
HÉRO.
Kitünő híre van tagadhatatlan.
URSULA.
Előbb, mint kapta, már megérdemelte. –
Mikor van a kisasszony esküvője?
HÉRO.
Maholnap – holnap. Úgy, igaz, gyere:
Nézzük meg a ruháimat s tanácsolj,
Mi lenne holnap a legdíszesebb?
URSULA.
(félre).
Lépen ragadt, megfogtuk, higye el.
HÉRO.
(félre).
Hja a szerelem csak vakon botorkál,
Ámor hol nyíllal öl, hol tőrbe csal.
(Héro és Ursula el.)
BEÁTRISZ.
�(előlépve).
Miért tüzel fülem? Való e az?
gúnyért, daczért mindenki így gyaláz?
Isten veled, kevélység, szűzi dacz!
Mögöttetek dicsőség nem tanyáz.
S te Bencze, csak szeress, én azt viszonzom:
Vad szívem hű kezednek meghajol.
Szeress: én nyájas összébbre vonzom
A szent kötelet, mely hozzád csatol.
Téged dicsér mindenki: ah, hiszen
Én azt mindenkinél jobban hiszem.
(El.)
II. SZÍN.
Szoba Leonato házában.
Péter Herczeg, Claudio, Bencze és Leonato.
HERCZEG.
Én csak addig maradok itt, míg házasságodat megkötjük, s aztán megyek Arragon felé.
CLAUDIO.
Ha megengedi, fölség, elkisérem addig.
HERCZEG.
Nem, nem: olyan foltot ejtene ez nász-örömöd ragyogásán, mint ha a gyermeknek új köntöst
mutatnak, de nem engedik neki fölvenni. Csak Bencze szives társaságát leszek bátor kikérni:
mert ez a fiú a feje tetejétől talpa hegyéig csupa jókedv; kétszer-háromszor elmetszette
Cupido nyilának húrját s az a kis hóhér még sem mert rá lőni. Szive vidáman cseng, mint a
harang, s nyelve hozzá az ütő, mert a mit szive érez, nyelve kimondja.
�BENCZE.
Uraim, nem az vagyok már, a ki voltam.
LEONATO.
Én is azt mondom; úgy látszik, szomorúbb vagy.
CLAUDIO.
Azt hiszem, szerelmes.
HERCZEG.
Mennydörgettét, nincs ő benne egy csepp vér sem, a mit a szerelem meg tudna illetni. Ha
szomorú, hát nincs pénze.
BENCZE.
Fáj a fogam.
HERCZEG.
Hisz azt kihúzzák.
BENCZE.
Kössék föl!
CLAUDIO.
Hohó! előbb kössék, azután húzzák.
HERCZEG.
Eh! így megsohajtozni egy kis fogfájásért!
LEONATO.
Mikor egy csepp nedv vagy egy piczi féreg az egész.
�BENCZE.
Könnyen tűri mindenki a bajt, míg nem érzi.
CLAUDIO.
Én mégis azt mondom, hogy szerelmes.
HERCZEG.
Nem szerelmes biz ő, ha csak azokba az idegen öltözetekbe nem, a miket magára szed:
például ma hollandi, holnap franczia; vagy két ország divatjában is egyszerre: a mellénytől
lefelé német, csupa bugyogó; és csípőtől fölfelé galléros spanyol. Ha csak ebbe a bolondságba
nem szerelmes (úgy látszik, hogy az), a szerelembe ugyan nem bolond, mint te akarod
ráfogni.
CLAUDIO.
Ha ez nem szerelmes, a régi jeleknek sem lehet hitelt adni. Hiszen minden reggel megkeféli a
kalapját: mit jelentene ez?
HERCZEG.
Látta-e valaki a borbélynál?
CLAUDIO.
Nem; de a borbélylegényt láttuk nála, és állának egykori dísze azóta lapdába van tömve.
LEONATO.
Valóban fiatalabb, mint volt, levétette a szakálát.
HERCZEG.
Aztán illattal öntözi magát: nem érzik-e ebből is valami?
CLAUDIO.
Az érzik ki belőle, szerelem lesz belőle.
�HERCZEG.
Legnagyobb bizonyíték a búmélasága.
CLAUDIO.
Aztán szokta-e ő valaha így kifenni az arczát?
HERCZEG.
Vagy így kikenni magát? Ezt bizony a világ nem hagyja szó nélkül.
CLAUDIO.
Hát csapongó kedve! az meg egy koboz húrjába bújt és most csavarra jár.
HERCZEG.
És szomorú regét mond róla. Végre is, szerelmes biz ő.
CLAUDIO.
Én tudom, hogy ki szereti.
HERCZEG.
Azt én is szeretném tudni: fogadok rá, hogy a ki szereti, nem ismeri.
CLAUDIO.
De bizony, még a rossz tulajdonait is; és mind ennek daczára meghal érte.
HERCZEG.
Akkor kiterítik, arczczal fölfelé.
BENCZE.
Erre bizony nem fájna a fogam. (Leonatóhoz.) Uram bátyám, jöjjön velem egy kissé:
megtanultam nyolcz-kilencz okos szót, azt szeretném elmondani, hanem e vessző-lovagoknak
nem szükség hallaniok.
�(Bencze és Leonato el.)
HERCZEG.
Fogadok, hogy Beátriszt kéri meg tőle.
CLAUDIO.
Bizonyosan. Héro és Margit azóta elvégezték szerepöket Beátriszszal, s akkor a két morgó
medve nem harapja meg egymást, ha találkoznak.
János jő.
JÁNOS.
Fölséges bátyám, fogadja üdvözletem’.
HERCZEG.
Jó estét, öcsém.
JÁNOS.
Ha ideje engedi, szólani óhajtok vele.
HERCZEG.
Négy szem közt?
JÁNOS.
Ha úgy tetszik! egyébiránt Claudio gróf hallhatja, mert őt illeti, a mit mondani akarok.
HERCZEG.
Nos, mi az?
JÁNOS.
(Claudióhoz).
Ön holnap szándékozik megesküdni?
�HERCZEG.
A mint te is tudod.
JÁNOS.
Bizony nem tudom, ha ő megtudja, a mit én tudok.
CLAUDIO.
Ha valami akadály van, kérem, fedezze föl.
JÁNOS.
Meglehet, ön azt hiszi, hogy én nem vagyok jó embere; ez majd kiderül utóbb, s jobbat fog
tartani rólam, mostani tettem után. A mi bátyámat illeti, ő, úgy tudom, kegyeli önt és jó
indulatú szivvel segítette létrehozni tervezett házasságát. Bizonyára füstbe ment terv, kárba
veszett fáradság.
HERCZEG.
Miért, mi a baj?
JÁNOS.
Azért jöttem, hogy ezt megmondjam; tehát rövidre fogva a szót (mert már is soká beszélünk
róla) az a kisasszony hűtelen.
CLAUDIO.
Ki? Héro?
JÁNOS.
Épenségesen az. Leonato Hérója, az ön Hérója, egész világ Hérója.
CLAUDIO.
Hűtelen?
�JÁNOS.
Ez a szó nagyon is jó arra, hogy aljasságát lefesse: bátran mondhatom, hogy ő maga rosszabb;
gondoljon ön rosszabb czímet, én rögtön bele illesztem azt a leányt. Ne csodálkozzák, míg
további bizonyítékot nem lát: jöjjön velem az éjjel, megláthatja, hogy járnak be ablakán épen
az esküvő előtti éjszakán; ha aztán akkor is szereti, vegye el holnap; de jobban megilleti
becsületét, hogy szándékát megmásítsa.
CLAUDIO.
Igaz lehetne ez?
HERCZEG.
Én nem akarom hinni.
JÁNOS.
Ha nem meri hinni, a mit lát, majd ne vallja meg, a mit tud. Ha velem jönnek, én mutatok
annyit, a mi elég; s mikor aztán többet láttak és többet hallottak, cselekedjenek ahhoz képest.
CLAUDIO.
Ha valóban látok valamit az éjjel, én holnap nem esküszöm meg vele; a násznép előtt
szégyenítem meg, mely esküvőnkre összegyűl.
HERCZEG.
És én, a mint az eljegyzésben segítettelek, veled leszek meggyalázásában is.
JÁNOS.
Nem becsmérlem tovább, míg önök is tanúim nem lesznek: várjanak békén éjfélig, s a
jövendő hadd mutassa meg magát.
HERCZEG.
Oh ellenünk fordúlt nap!
CLAUDIO.
Oh váratlanul jött szerencsétlenség!
�JÁNOS.
Oh jókor elhárított csapás! ezt fogják önök mondani, ha látták, a mi rájok vár.
III. SZÍN.
Utcza.
Galagonya, Bunkós és Két Őr.
GALAGONYA.
Hű és igaz emberek vagytok?
BUNKÓS.
A bizony: mert különben jaj volna nekik; testestül, lelkestül a pokolra kárt hoznának.
GALAGONYA.
Még ez nagyon kevés büntetés lenne, ha csak egy mákszemnyi törvényes lépést elkövetnének
is, minekutána őrnek álltak a herczeg szolgálatjába.
BUNKÓS.
No hát, adja, meg kend nekik a szükséges kiutasításokat, Galagonya szomszéd.
GALAGONYA.
Először is, ki volna köztetek a legbizalmasabb ember, a ki megfelelne a biztosi állománynak?
1. ŐR.
Bodag János, uram, vagy Kormos György, mert azok írni, olvasni tudnak.
GALAGONYA.
�Lépj elő? Kormos szomszéd. Az Isten téged szép névvel áldott meg; de a szépség a szerencse
ajándéka; hanem az írás, olvasás, az már a természettől jön.
2. ŐR.
Biztos uram, én mind a kettővel –
GALAGONYA.
Meg vagy áldva: tudom, hogy ezt akartad mondani. No jól van: a mi a szépségedet
illetményezi, adj hálát Istennek és ne dicsekedj vele; a mi pedig az írást, olvasást, ezt se
tüntesd ki, csak olyankor, ha az ilyen hivalkodásra semmi szükség nincs. Minekutána tehát
téged tartanak a legügyesebb és legilletéktelenebb embernek, hogy az őrjárat biztosává
kineveztessél, tehát te viszed a lámpást. Ez lészen az utasításod. Minden gyanus vagy
másképen jellemes egyént letartóztattok; minden embert megállíttok a herczeg nevében.
2. ŐR.
De hát ha nem áll meg?
GALAGONYA.
Akkor nem vesztek róla tudomást, csak eresztitek tovább, és rögtön összehíván az egész
őrséget, hálát adtok az Istennek, hogy egy gazembert leráztatok a nyakatokról.
BUNKÓS.
Mert ha a kiáltásra meg nem áll, akkor nem is a mi herczegünk alattvalója az.
GALAGONYA.
Úgy van; nekik pedig mással semmi közük, csak a mi herczegünk alattavalóival. Aztán lármát
ne üssetek az útczán, mert az őrségnek a hangos beszéd és fecsegés szorosan tiltatik és
szigoruan meghagyatik.
2. ŐR.
Nem is beszélgetünk mi, inkább alszunk: tudjuk mink, hogy mi a hű bakter kötelessége.
GALAGONYA.
�No lám, úgy beszélsz, mint valamely régi kipróbált bakter; mert a ki alszik, az csakugyan nem
tehet semmi kárt; csak arra vigyázzatok, hogy a dárdátokat el ne lopják. Aztán sorba néztek,
minden korcsmát és a hol részeg embereket találtok, haza külditek, hogy feküdjenek le.
2. ŐR.
De hát ha nem akarnak menni?
GALAGONYA.
Akkor ott hagyjátok, míg kijózanodnak. Ha pedig illedelmesen találnának beszélni veletek,
mondjátok neki, hogy nem néztétek volna őket olyan embereknek.
2. ŐR.
Értem, kérem alásan.
GALAGONYA.
Ha tolvajjal találkoztok, hivatalos hatalmatoknál fogva, bátran gyanúba foghatjátok, hogy
nem becsületes ember; ilyen fajta emberekkel pedig minél kevesebbet érintkeztek, annál
nagyobb becsületére válik.
2. ŐR.
Ha megismerjük, hogy tolvaj, ne fogjuk el?
GALAGONYA.
Hivatalotoknál fogva voltaképen megtehetitek; csakhogy a ki szurokhoz nyúl, elkeveri magát.
Legbékességesebb útja-módja, ha tolvajt fogtok, reá hagyni, hadd mutassa meg, mi a
mesterséges hadd lópozzék el tőletek.
BUNKÓS.
Kendet, komám, mindig ilyen irgalmas szivűnek ismerték.
GALAGONYA.
Én bizony meg nem fojtanék egy ebet a magam jószántából, inkább meg egy olyan embert, a
ki valamely törvényességet elkövet.
�BUNKÓS.
Aztán, ha az éjjel valami gyereksírást hallotok, szóljatok a dajkának, hogy csillapítsa le.
2. ŐR.
De hátha alszik a dajka és nem hallgat ránk?
GALAGONYA.
Akkor odább mentek békességgel, hadd költse föl a gyereksírás: mert a melyik juh nem
hallgat a bárányára, ha béget, soha sem felel az a farkasnak, ha ordít.
BUNKÓS.
E már igaz.
GALAGONYA.
Eddig tart az utasítástok. Kend, biztos, a herczegnek saját személyét figurázza: ha az éjszaka a
herczeggel találkozik kend, azt is megállíthatja.
BUNKÓS.
Nem a: azt istók-ugyse nem állíthatja.
GALAGONYA.
Öt garast teszek egyre, akárki előtt, a ki e regulamentát tudja, hogy megállíthatja: már
tudniillik nem a herczeg akaratja ellenére, mert hiszen az őrnek nem szabad megsérteni senkit,
az pedig sértés volna, hogy az embert akaratja ellenére megállítsa.
BUNKÓS.
Istók-márja-ugyse, a biz igaz.
GALAGONYA.
Ha, ha, ha! No, atyafiak, jó éjszakát; ha pedig valami különös fontos dolog fordúlna elő,
jelentsék nekem. Jól rendbe szedjétek magatokat; jó éjszakát. Jöjjön kend, szomszéd.
�2. ŐR.
Tudjuk már, uram, a kötelességünket: gyerünk, üljünk ide a templom padjára két óráig, akkor
aztán haza megyünk aludni.
GALAGONYA.
Még egy szóra, becsületes atyafiak. Különösen vigyázzatok Leonato úr háza körűl, mert ott
holnap lakadalom lesz, annálfogva sokan megfordulnak ott az éjjel. Legyetek héberek. Adjon
Isten!
(Galagonya és Bunkós el.)
Borachio és Konrád jönnek.
BORACHIO.
Hej, Konrád!
1. ŐR.
(halkan).
Pssz! Meg ne mozduljunk.
BORACHIO.
Konrád, merre vagy?
KONRÁD.
Itt, no, a könyöködnél.
BORACHIO.
Éreztem ugyan, hogy viszket a könyököm, de azt gondoltam, attól van, hogy dicsérnek.
KONRÁD.
Erre most adós maradok a felelettel; csak mondd tovább, a mit elkezdtél.
BORACHIO.
�Állj ide az eresz alá, mert permetez az eső; mindent elmondok olyan igazán, akár egy részeg
ember.
1. ŐR.
(halkan).
Valami árulás, atyafiak: egy kukkot se!
BORACHIO.
Hát tudd meg, hogy én János herczegtől ezer aranyat kaptam.
KONRÁD.
Hogy lehet valamely gazságnak ilyen nagy ára?
BORACHIO.
Inkább azt kérdezd, hogy lehet valamely gazság ilyen gazdag: mert ha a gazdag gazember
rászorul a szegényre, a szegény olyan árat szabhat, a milyet akar.
KONRÁD.
No ezt csodálom.
BORACHIO.
Látszik, hogy még nem vagy beavatva. Nos, de azt úgy-e tudod, hogy a kalap, az inggallér
vagy az öltöny divatja semmi?
KONRÁD.
De igen: ruházat.
BORACHIO.
Nem, nem; én a divatot értem.
KONRÁD.
A divat, az meg divat.
�BORACHIO.
Teringettét! ez olyan, mintha én azt mondanám: a bolond, az meg bolond. No, hát látod-e,
milyen alakos tolvaj ez a divat.
1. ŐR.
(halkan).
Ahá! én jól ismerem ezt a herr fon Alakost: kötni való tolvaj már hét esztendő óta; úgy jár elő
s hátra, mint valami úri ember. Emlékezem a nevére.
BORACHIO.
Nem hallottál valami szót?
KONRÁD.
Nem, a vitorla csikorog a ház tetején.
BORACHIO.
Hát, mondom, látod-e, milyen alakos tolvaj a divat? Hogy megszédíti a fiatalság eszét,
tizennégy és harminczöt év között? Néha úgy öltözteti őket, mint Farao katonái vannak
öltözve amott a füstös olajfestményen; néha úgy, mint Bél papjai az ó templom ablakán; néha
pedig, mint a megkopasztott Herkules a molyette fakó szőnyegen.
KONRÁD.
Mind elhiszem; azt is tudom, hogy a divat több ruhát elnyű, mint az emberek. De nem
szédített-e meg magadat is a divat, hogy kitérsz a beszédedből s a divatról kezdesz szólani?
BORACHIO.
Nem, engem ugyan nem. Nos, hát annyi volt az eset, hogy én az éjjel szerelmeskedtem
Margittal, Héro kisasszony társlagónőjével, Héro neve alatt; ő kihajol hozzám kisasszonya
ablakából, jó éjszakát kiván ezerszer is… Ej, bolondúl kezdtem a dolgot: azt kellett volna
először elmondanom, hogy a herczeg, meg Claudio, meg az én gazdám, János herczeg terve
szerint kiállítva, elhelyezve és megbabonázva, hogyan nézték a szerelmes találkozást távolról
a kertben.
�KONRÁD.
És Margitot Hérónak gondolták?
BORACHIO.
Kettejök annak, a herczeg és Claudio; de az ördög, a gazdám, jól tudta, hogy Margit. Így
aztán részint gazdám esküje, mely előre megbabonázta őket, részint a sötét éjszaka, mely
megcsalta őket, de főleg az én furfangosságom, mely János herczeg minden rágalmait
megerősíté, roppant dühbe hozta Claudiót: esküdözött, hogy amint már ki volt tűzve, holnap
elmegy a templomba, s ott az egész gyülekezet előtt becsteleníti meg Hérót azzal, a mit az
éjjel látott, s akkor haza kergeti férj nélkül.
1. ŐR.
Megállj! A herczeg nevében, megálljatok!
2. ŐR.
Elő kell hívni az őrvezető urat. A legveszedelmesebb bűnkisértetet fedeztük fel, a milyet
valaha a város hallott.
1. Őr.
Bizonyos Alakos nevű az egyik; jól ismerem, göndör haja van neki.
KONRÁD.
Barátaim, uraim…
2. ŐR.
Majd előhozatjuk mi kenddel azt az alakost, ezt már fogadom.
KONRÁD.
Barátaim…
1. ŐR.
Ne beszéljen: a mi hivatalunk szigoruan engedelmeskedni mindenkinek, a kit bekisérünk.
�(Mind el.)
IV. SZÍN.
Szoba Leonato házában.
Héro, Margit és Ursula.
HÉRO.
Édes Ursula, ébreszd föl Beátriszt és kérd meg, hogy keljen föl.
URSULA.
Megyek, kisasszony.
HÉRO.
Kérd, hogy jöjjön ide.
URSULA.
Igenis.
(Ursula el.)
MARGIT.
Én úgy gondolom, hogy a másik galléra jobban állna.
HÉRO.
Nem, nem, édes Margitom, én ezt akarom föltenni.
MARGIT.
Pedig bizony-bizony nem olyan jó; fogadom, hogy Beátrisz kisasszony is azt mondja.
HÉRO.
�Beátrisz balga és te is az vagy. Nekem másik nem kell, csak ez.
MARGIT.
Az új fejdíszét rendkivül szeretem, csak a haja volna hozzá kissé barnább. A ruhája pedig
különösen szép szabású. Én láttam a milánói herczegnő ruháját, a mit oly nagyon
magasztalnak.
HÉRO.
Oh az remek, azt mondják.
MARGIT.
A, biz Isten, csak hálóköntös az önéhez: csupa arany, csupa himzés, áttörve ezüsttel,
megrakva gyöngygyel, alsó újja, felső újja, körűl a fodra; az egész kékkel díszítve; de mi a
finom, simúló, kecses, kitűnő szabást illeti, az öné megér tíz olyat.
HÉRO.
Adja isten, hogy jó kedvvel viselhessem, mert a szivem rendkivül nehéz.
MARGIT.
Nehezebb is lesz, ha a nász terheli.
HÉRO.
Pfi, nem szégyenled magad’?
MARGIT.
Miért, kisasszony? hogy tiszességesen beszélek? Nem tisztességes-e a nász még a koldusnál
is? Jegyese nem tisztességes-e nász nélkül is? Talán azt akarta volna, hogy „férj”-et mondjak?
Rossz magyarázat nem csavarhatja el az igaz beszédet. Én nem sértek senkit. Van-e abban
valami sértés: „Nehezebb, ha nász terheli?” Nincs, biz abban nincs, csak az igazi férj legyen
és az igazi feleség; máskép, az igazi, nem nehéz, hanem könynyelmű. Kérdezze meg Beátrisz
kisasszonytól, itt jön.
Beátrisz jő.
HÉRO.
�Jó reggelt, Beátrisz.
BEÁTRISZ.
Jó reggelt, édes húgom.
HÉRO.
Nos, mi ez? miért beszélsz ilyen méla hangon?
BEÁTRISZ.
Kiestem a vígabb hangból.
MARGIT.
Kiesett, mert beleesett: „A szerelem sötét verem, benne vagyok, beleestem.” Dalolja, majd
tánczolok hozzá.
BEÁTRISZ.
De kész volnál beletánczolni. (Héróhoz.) Mindjárt öt óra, húgom: ideje, hogy készen volnál.
Én igazán beteg vagyok.
MARGIT.
Mije fáj? mire fáj?
BEÁTRISZ.
Elég, ha fáj.
MARGIT.
Talán renegát lett a férfigyülölőből? Akkor az éjszaki csillagban sem bizhatik többé a hajós.
BEÁTRISZ.
Hogy érted ezt?
�MARGIT.
Sehogy, sehogy. Adja meg az Isten minden szivnek, amit kiván!
HÉRO.
Ezt a keztyűt a gróf küldte: az illata kitűnő.
BEÁTRISZ.
Én nem érzem, náthám van, meg vagyok hűlve.
MARGIT.
Meg ám, de nem a férfiak iránt.
BEÁTRISZ.
Uram, teremtőm! Mióta adtad magad’ így a szójátékra?
MARGIT.
Mióta ön egészen felhagyott vele. Talán nem jól áll?
BEÁTRISZ.
Igen rikító. Főkötő kellene hozzá. – De én igazán beteg vagyok.
MARGIT.
Vegyen lepárolt Carduus Benedictus kórót, s tegye a szivéhez: ez az egyetlen enyhítő a
bajára.
HÉRO.
Ez megint tövis Beátrisznak.
BEÁTRISZ.
Benedictus! Miért Benedictus? mi lappang e Benedictus alatt?
�MARGIT.
Ej, dehogy lappang, nem lappang az alatt semmi: nem egyéb, mint ezerjó tövis. Talán azt
gondolja, hogy szerelmesnek gondolom; pedig nem vagyok bolond olyat gondolni, a mit
tudok; sőt igazán, ha a lelkemet kigondolkoznám, sem tudnám gondolni, hogy ön szerelmes,
vagy szerelmes tudna lenni. De hiszen Bencze úr is ilyen volt, s mégis, most ő is csak férfi
lett; esküdözött, hogy meg nem házasodik soha, s mégis most már, vadsága daczára, megeszi
az ételét morgás nélkül. Én nem tudom, megváltozhatik-e ön is; de nekem úgy tetszik, hogy a
szeme olyanformán kezd állani, mint más leányé.
BEÁTRISZ.
Ejh, de nyargal a nyelved?
MARGIT.
Nem jár rossz úton.
Ursula jő.
URSULA.
Kisasszony, vonuljon a szobájába: a herczeg, a gróf, Bencze úr, János úr és a városnak
minden lovagja eljöttek, hogy kegyedet templomba kisérjék.
HÉRO.
Segítsenek öltözni, kedves rokon, jó Margitom, jó Ursulám
V. SZÍN.
Más szoba Leonato házában.
Leonato, Galagonya és Bunkós.
LEONATO.
Nos, mit akarnak, emberséges szomszéd?
(Mind el.)
�GALAGONYA.
Biz én, uram, valamely bizodalmas tudatást akarok közlekedni, uraságodat illetőleg.
LEONATO.
Csak röviden, barátom: mert lássák, nagyon el vagyok foglalva.
GALAGONYA.
Hát, uram, úgy van az.
BUNKÓS.
Igenis, úgy biz az, uram.
LEONATO.
De mi, és hogy, édes barátaim?
GALAGONYA.
Ne vegye rossz néven, uram, hogy Bunkós kollégám nem szól egyenest a dologhoz: öreg
ember már, és az elméje nem épen olyan tompa, mint Isten segítségével, én óhajtanám; de
különben mondhatom, olyan becsületes ember, mint orczáján a bőr.
BUNKÓS.
Igenis, hála Istennek, vagyok olyan becsületes ember, mint akárki fia, vagyis a ki megőszült
és még sem becsületesebb nálam.
GALAGONYA.
Comparatio est odorosa: azt mondja a deák, barátom Bunkós.
LEONATO.
Szomszéd uram, kegyelmetek nagyon hosszadalmasak.
GALAGONYA.
�Köszönöm a jó akaratát, uram: mi csak az igénytelen herczeg szolgái vagyunk; de igaz
lelkemre mondom, ha olyan hosszadalmasak és magasztosak volnánk is, mint a király, azt is
mind uraságodnak szentelném.
LEONATO.
Minden hosszadalmasságát nekem?
GALAGONYA.
Igenis, ha ezerszer annyi volna is: mert jól tudom, hogy uraságod a legjobb hírnévvel van
bélyegezve az egész városban, és ámbár én csak szegény ember vagyok, lelkemből örülök
neki.
BUNKÓS.
Magam is, uram.
LEONATO.
Szeretném már hallani, mi a mondani valójok?
BUNKÓS.
Hát, uram, őrjáratunk az éjjel két olyan csavargó gazembert fogott el, a milyen nincs több
Messinában, azonban kivéve uraságod becses személyét.
GALAGONYA.
Jó öreg ember, uram; de lám, beszélni akar: hijába, a mint mondani szokták, vén embernek
meghígul a veleje. – Az igaz, hogy a világ még nem látott olyat. Jól mondod, Bunkós
szomszéd. De csak engedj engem szólani: látod, ha két ember ül egy lovon, az egyiknek hátul
kell ülni. Igazán, uram, becsületes egy ember: nála becsületesebb, isten bizony még nem evett
kenyeret; de hát Isten akaratában meg kell nyugodni: minden ember nem lehet egyforma.
Úgy-e, jó szomszéd?
LEONATO.
Igazán, szomszéd, ő még rövid kendhez képest.
GALAGONYA.
�Úgy-e, uram, rövidségben van? Hja, Isten ajándéka!
LEONATO.
Nekem mennem kell.
GALAGONYA.
Csak egy szóra, uram. Hát őrjáratunk, kérem alásan, az éjjel két gyanús embert tartóztatott le:
azokat ma délelőtt uraságod jelenlétében akarjuk tárgyalni.
LEONATO.
Csak végezzék magok a tárgyalást és tudósítsanak róla; most a mint láthatják, nagyon sietek.
GALAGONYA.
Meglesz, uram.
LEONATO.
Igyanak egy pohár bort, ne menjenek el addig. No, Isten áldja meg.
Egy Hirnök jő.
HIRNÖK.
Uram, a násznép már várja, hogy leányát az esküvőre vezesse.
LEONATO.
Rögtön ott leszek; készen vagyok.
(Leonato és a Hirnök el.)
GALAGONYA.
Eredj, kolléga, siess Kormos Ferenczhez; mondjad, hogy jöjjön tintástul, pennástul együtt az
őrházhoz: most a mi feladatunk ezen embereket tárgyalni.
BUNKÓS.
�Még pedig okosan, nagy rovatossággal.
GALAGONYA.
Nem kiméljük az eszünket, ne félj: van itt (homlokára mutat), a mi sarokba szorítsa őket.
Csak hozd el ama jeles írót, hadd fogalmazza a kihallgatás edzőkönyvét. Gyertek utánam az
őrházhoz.
(Elmennek.)
NEGYEDIK FELVONÁS.
I. SZÍN.
Egy templom belseje.
Péter herczeg, János, Leonato, Szerzetes, Claudio, Bencze, Héro, Beátrisz és többen.
LEONATO.
Csak röviden, tisztelendő Ferencz atyám, csupán az esketési szertartást; majd a különös
oktatást elmondhatja azután.
SZERZETES.
Érdemes ifjú, komoly szándékod nőül venni e leányzót, a ki jobbodon áll?
CLAUDIO.
Nem.
LEONATO.
Mit? Úgy! Igaz! Nem a jobbján, csak a jobbja mellett. Természetes.
SZERZETES.
Derék hajadon, komoly szándékod férjhez menni ez ifjúhoz, a kinek jobbján állasz?
�HÉRO.
Igen.
SZERZETES.
Ha valaki közületek valamely akadályt tud e házasság ellen, fedezzétek föl igaz
lelkiismeretetek szerint.
CLAUDIO.
Tud-e kegyed valamint, Héro?
HÉRO.
Nem, uram, semmit.
SZERZETES.
Tud-e valamit a gróf úr?
LEONATO.
Bátran felelhetek helyette én: semmit!
CLAUDIO.
Oh! milyen bátor némely ember! milyen bátran tesz valamit az ember! mit nem tesz az ember,
nem tudva, hogy mit tesz! Ej, ha!
BENCZE.
Te az indulatszókat gyakorlod? A nevetésre ezek azok, ha, ha! he, he!
CLAUDIO.
Eh, félre most pap! Hallod-é, apa:
szorongás nélkül, tiszta szívvel adnád
E hajadont, leányodat, nekem?
�LEONATO.
Olyan tisztán, mint nékem Isten adta.
CLAUDIO.
S mit adjak érte én, minek becse
Megérje ezt a dús ajándokot?
HERCZEG.
Mást nem, ha csak őt vissza nem adod.
CLAUDIO.
Fölséged a legszebb hálára oktat. –
Ne, apja lányod: fogd, vedd vissza hát:
Ne adj barátodnak rohadt narancsot:
Csak színe, máza ő a szűz-erénynek!
Nézd, mint irúl-pirúl itt szűz gyanánt:
Oh mily nemes valóság látszatával,
Hogy tudja a rút bűn magát takarni!
E felszökő vér, mint szemérmetes jel
Nem vall-e szűz erényt? Így látva őt,
Nem esküdnétek-é mindannyian
E küljelekre, hogy szűz? Hajh, nem az.
A kéjes ágy hevét isméri már:
Ez a pirúlás vétek, nem szemérem.
LEONATO.
Ejh, mit akarsz, uram?
CLAUDIO.
Nem venni őt el!
�Nem kötni lelkem’ egy feslett személyhez.
LEONATO.
Oh, jó uram, ha tán próbára tetted,
S leküzdve a leányi ellenállást,
Szüzességét legyőzted…
CLAUDIO.
Jól tudom,
Hová czélzasz: ha én ejtém meg őt,
Már, nemde, engem mint férjét ölelt,
S előleges bűnét ez mentheti?
Nem, Leonato:
Sohsem kisértém meg ledér szavakkal;
Mint bátya húgát, úgy illettem őt,
Szűz érzelemmel és szemérmesen.
HÉRO.
Mutattam-é én is mást ön iránt?
CLAUDIO.
Hah, tettető! Írásba adtam volna:
Előttem égből szállt Diána voltál,
Oly tiszta, mint bimbó feslés előtt;
De féktelenebb vagy véred hevében,
Mint Vénus, és azon korcs állatok,
Melyek vadúlt ösztönnel űzekednek.
HÉRO.
Uram, rosszúl van-é, hogy így csapong?
�CLAUDIO.
Oh herczeg úr, szóljon.
HERCZEG.
Mit szóljak én?
Lesújtva állok, a ki közben-jártam.
Hogy egy rimához fűzzem jó barátom’.
LEONATO.
Oh, mondva volt ez, vagy csak álmodom?
JÁNOS.
Mind mondva volt és mind való, uram.
BENCZE.
Ez furcsa esküvő!
HÉRO.
Való! Oh Isten!
CLAUDIO.
Leonato, nézz meg: én állok-é itt?
A herczeg-é ez? ez meg öcscse-é?
Ez Héro arcza? a szemünk mienk-é?
LEONATO.
Mind úgy van, az; de hát miért, uram?
CLAUDIO.
�Hadd adjak egy kérdést lányodnak, és
Te, mint nemzője, atyja, birt hatalmad
Által parancsold, hogy hiven feleljen.
LEONATO.
Parancsolom: tedd azt, ha gyermekem vagy.
HÉRO.
Oh Isten, irgalmazz, ily fakgatás!
Mi czélotok van e kínvallatással?
CLAUDIO.
Szóljon valót, a mint illik nevéhez.
HÉRO.
Nem Héro-é az? E neven ki ejthet
Foltot jogos vád által?
CLAUDIO.
Ő maga,
Héro ejt foltot a Héro erényén. –
Miféle férifval beszélt, tizenkét
S egy óra közt az éjjel, ablakából?
Feleljen erre, hogy ha tiszta szűz!
HÉRO.
Én nem beszéltem akkor senkivel.
HERCZEG.
No úgy nem is vagy tiszta. – Leonato
�Sajnos, hogy hallanod kell. Esküszöm,
Én és öcsém és e megcsalt nemes gróf
Láttuk, hallottuk őt az éjszaka
Beszélni ablakából egy suhanczczal,
Ki, mint egész szabad szájú lator,
Elmondta, hogy találkoztak galádul
Ezerszer is, titokban.
JÁNOS.
Fúj, uram,
Említni sem lehet, se szólni róla.
Nem volt szavokban annyi a szemérem,
Hogy elmondhassuk durvaság ne’kül.
Sajnálom e kihágást, szép kisasszony.
CLAUDIO.
Oh Héro, mily Héro lettél vala,
ha külső bájaidnak csak felét is
Szived s eszed foglalta volna el!
Élj boldogúl, legszebb, legszennyesebb! élj,
Te tiszta vétek s vétkes tisztaság!
Miattad kaput zárok a szerelemnek,
Pilláimon fog függni a gyanú,
Mely bármi bájt bűnné változtat át,
Hogy ne lehessen vonzó, kellemes.
LEONATO.
Nincs tőrötöknek számomra hegye?
BEÁTRISZ.
�Húgom, mi lelt? Ah! ime összeomlik.
(Héro elájul.)
JÁNOS.
Gyertek, jerünk. A bűn napfényre jötte
Elnyomta lelkét.
(Péter Herczeg, János és Claudio el.)
BENCZE.
Hogy van a kisasszony?
BEÁTRISZ.
Talán meg is halt. Bácsi, jaj, segítség! –
Héro, no, Héro! – Bácsi! – Bencze úr!
LEONATO.
Oh sors, ne vedd le a súlyos kezed’!
Halál a legjobb fátyol szégyenére,
Mit csak kivánhatok.
BEÁTRISZ.
Hogy vagy, kedves Héro?
SZERZETES.
Kisasszony, csendesen.
LEONATO.
Még föltekintesz?
SZERZETES.
�Igen: miért ne tekintene föl?
LEONATO.
Mért? Nem kiált-e minden földi tárgy
Szégyent reá? Hát nem tudja-é tagadni
A bűnt, mi vérében van bélyegezve?
Héro, ne éledj, föl ne nyisd szemed’!
Ha gondolnám, hogy meg nem halsz azonnal,
Hogy életed erősebb szégyenednél:
Magam szegném, átkom nyomában, élted’.
Zug’lódtam-é, hogy nincs, csak egy leányom?
Gáncsoltam-é a fukar természetet?
Oh, sok vagy egynek is! mért volt csak egy is!?
Miért valál olyan kedves szememnek?
Mért valál olyan kedves szememnek?
Mért nem fogadtam föl kegyes kezekkel
Egy koldús fajzatát, kapum küszöbjén?
Ha azt gyalázat foltja szégyenítné,
Azt mondanám: „Egy íze sem enyim,
S szenny idegen ágyékból ered!”
De, oh enyim: szerette és dicsért
És nagyratartott lányom; annyira
Enyim, hogy ahhoz mérve, én magam
Nem vagyok magamé! Oh elbukott
A tinta-posványban, hogy tengereknek
Kevés az árja őt tisztára mosni,
Kevés a sója már üdén megóvni
Rohadni kezdő húsát.
BENCZE.
�Csillapúlj,
Uram. Csodálat lep meg engem is,
De nem tudok reá mit mondani.
BEÁTRISZ.
Oh, húgom ellen mindez rágalom.
BENCZE.
Ön egy szobában hált vele az éjjel?
BEÁTRISZ.
Nem, most az egyszer nem; de tegnapig.
Tizenkét hónap óta, minden éjjel.
LEONATO.
Bizonyság, új bizonyság. Még erősb lett
Az, a mit úgy is vas-kapocs szorít.
Hazudna-é a herczeg s Claudio,
Ki úgy szerette őt, hogy itt midőn
Elmondta szennyét, könynyel mosta azt.
El, el! hadd haljon itt.
SZERZETES.
Hallgass meg engem.
Azért maradtam eddig hallgatag,
S engedtem útat a bal fordulatnak,
Mert e leányt figyeltem: láttam, a mint
Arczát a pír ezerszer elfutotta,
S a szűzi szégyen angyal-tisztasága
Ezerszer űzte vissza a pirúlást.
�Szemébe tűz gyúlt, melyben összeégjen
A tévedés, mit szűzisége ellen
A herczegék vallottak. Mondj bolondnak;
Ne adj tapasztalásomnak hitelt,
Mely könyvek oktatását észlelés
Által pecsétli meg; ne higy koromnak,
Tisztemnek, állásom szentséginek:
Ha e leány nem bűntelen lakol
Valami szörnyű tévedés miatt.
LEONATO.
Barát, az nem lehet
Látod, maradt még benne annyi jóság,
Hogy nem tetézi vétkes kárhozatját
A hitszegés bűnével: nem tagadja.
Miért akarnád mentséggel fedezni
Azt, a mi itt áll pusztán, meztelen?
SZERZETES.
Kivel vádolják önt, kedves kisasszony?
HÉRO.
Azok tudják, a ki vádolnak, én nem.
Ha élő férfit jobban ismerek,
Mint szűzi tisztaságom engedi,
Ne nyerjen egy bűnöm se megbocsátást.
Oh, én atyám, ha kiderűl, hogy én
Illetlen órán férfival beszéltem,
Vagy bárkivel szót válték tagnap éjjel:
Taszíts ki, gyűlölj és kínozz halálra.
�SZERZETES.
Szörnyen csalódhattak a herczegék.
BENCZE.
Kettőjök a becsület netovábbja,
S ha bölcseségök félre van vezetve,
A fattyu János herczeg műve az,
Kinek rossz lelke csak gazságon áskál.
LEONATO.
Én nem tudom. Ha, mit mondtak, való,
Széttépem a leányt; ha rágalom,
Megbánja még a legbüszkébbikök.
Idő nem szárította úgy ki vérem’,
Se a kor meg nem ette úgy velőmet,
Se sors el nem rabolta módomat,
Se sok csapás nem űzte szét barátim’:
De még megérzik, engem fölriasztva,
Hogy lesz erő az inban, terv az észben,
Képesség módban és bőség barátban,
Számolni még velök.
SZERZETES.
Megállj, figyelj:
Kövesd ez ügyben a tanácsomat
Hérót a herczegék holtként hagyák itt:
Tartsd egy időig titkon zárva őt;
Hirdesd ki, hogy valósággal meg is halt;
Mutass külsőleg is nagy gyászolást;
�Akaszsz családod ős emlékkövére
Gyászverseket; tégy minden készülődést,
Mi egy temetkezéshez tartozik.
LEONATO.
Miért? mi lesz belőle? mit jelent az?
SZERZETES.
Hát (jól kivíve) a rágalmakat
Bánatra változtatja: már ez is jó;
De nem ezért tünődöm e cselen;
Nagyobb eredményt is szül e vajúdás:
Ha Héro, színleg, halva fog feküdni,
Egy perczczel aztán, hogy vádoltatott,
Siratni, szánni, mentegetni fogja
Mind a ki hallja: mert az mindig úgy van:
A meglevőt nem szoktuk megbecsűlni,
Míg birtokunkban van; de elveszítve,
Még toldjuk a becsét; akkor lelünk
Oly érdemet, mi benne föl se tünt,
Míg a mienk volt. Így jár Claudio:
Ha hallja, hogy vádjára Héro meghalt,
Az élet eszményképe majd be fog
Ábrándja közzé édesen lopózni;
A lányka életének minden íze
Drágább alakban tűnik föl neki;
Szebb, meghatóbban, életteljesebben
Fog állni lelki szemei előtt,
Mint élve volt, s ő akkor bánkodik
(Ha volt valóban szenvedély szivében);
�Ohajtja, bár ne vádolta volna,
Noha igaznak tartja vádjait. –
Tégy így tehát, s hidd el, hogy a jövendő
Jobban kikeríti a sikert,
Mint azt előre én lefesthetem.
S ha minden más eredmény meghiúsul,
Már a halálnak puszta föltevése
Elfojtja a gyalázat hirdetését.
S ha jól nem üt ki, rejtsd el lányodat,
A mint sebzett becsületéhez illik,
Valami zárkozott szerzetbe, távol
Minden szemektől, nyelvtől, rágalomtól.
BENCZE.
Kövesse, bátyám, e barát tanácsát;
S én, bár barátság s belső vonzalom köt,
Mint tudja, a herczeghez s Claudióhoz,
Olyan titokban, híven közbe-járok,
Mint a saját testével lelke járhat.
Becsületemre.
LEONATO.
Jó, tehát vezessen
A bánat árja közt e kis fonál.
SZERZETES.
Tehát megegyez. Rajta hát, reméljen.
Erős bajon erős szer, nem segít más. –
Kisasszony, haljon meg, hogy újra éljen!
E nász csak elhaladt: tűrés, kitartás!
�(A Szerzetes, Héro és Leonato el.)
BENCZE.
Beátrisz kisasszony, ön folytonosan sír?
BEÁTRISZ.
Igen, és tovább is sírni fogok.
BENCZE.
Ohajtom, hogy ne.
BEÁTRISZ.
Nincs igaza: ez nekem jól esik.
BENCZE.
Igazán, azt hiszem, hogy szép rokonát csak bántalmazták.
BEÁTRISZ.
Oh, hogy lekötelezne az, a ki igazságot szerezne neki!
BENCZE.
Volna-e út ilyen barátságot tanúsítani?
BEÁTRISZ.
Igen egyenes út, de nincs ilyen barát.
BENCZE.
Megteheti-e férfi?
BEÁTRISZ.
�Férfi feladata, de nem az öné.
BENCZE.
A világon semmit sem szeretek úgy, mint önt. Nem különös ez?
BEÁTRISZ.
Olyan különös, mint a – nem tudom mi. Én is csak úgy mondhatnám, hogy semmit sem
szeretek úgy, mint önt; de ne higye: pedig nem hazudok; nem vallok semmit, nem is tagadok
semmit. – Nagyon búsulok a húgomért.
BENCZE.
Istenemre, Beátrisz, te szeretsz engem.
BEÁTRISZ.
Ne esküdjék, megbánja.
BENCZE.
Esküszöm, hogy szeretsz; az bánja meg, a ki tagadni meri, hogy szeretlek. parancsolj:
megteszek érted akármit.
BEÁTRISZ.
Ölje meg Claudiót.
BENCZE.
Hah! nem a széles világért!
BEÁTRISZ.
Engem öl meg, ha megtagadja. Isten önnel!
BENCZE.
Maradjon, édes Beátrisz.
�BEÁTRISZ.
Már elmentem, bár itt vagyok. Önben egy szikra szerelem sincs. Kérem, bocsásson.
BENCZE.
Beátrisz!…
BEÁTRISZ.
Igazán, menni akarok.
BENCZE.
Előbb béküljünk meg.
BEÁTRISZ.
Könnyebb békülni velem, mint megvívni ellenségemmel.
BENCZE.
Claudio ellenséged?
BEÁTRISZ.
Hét nem tetőtől talpig gazember-e az, a ki legyalázta, rágalmazta, megbecstelenítette
rokonomat? Oh, bár férfi volnék! Ime: kezén hordozza őt, míg a kézfogóig jutnak, s akkor
nyilvános váddal, meztelen rágalommal, kérlelhetlen gazsággal… Oh Istenem, bár férfi
volnék! a piacz közepén enném meg a szivét.
BENCZE.
Hallgasson meg, Beátrisz…
BEÁTRISZ.
Férfival beszélt az ablakából: szép beszéd.
BENCZE.
De, Beátrisz!…
�BEÁTRISZ.
Édes Hérom! – Megsértik, gyalázzák, megsemmisítik.
BENCZE.
Beát…
BEÁTRISZ.
Herczegek és grófok! Bizonyosan, herczegi tanúskodás, szépséges gróf, mézes-mázos
udvarló, bizonyosan. Oh, bár férfi lehetnék érette! vagy volna egy barátom, a ki férfi lenne
érettem! De a férfiasság udvarlásra olvadt, a bátorság bókokra, s a férfiak csupa nyelvvé
változtak, csak szépet tesznek: mai nap az már vitéz, mint Herkules, a ki nagyokat mond s
megesküszik rá. Engem férfivá nem tehet a vágy: azért, mint nőt, megöl a bú.
BENCZE.
Maradj, kedves Beátrisz. Ime a kezem, esküszöm reá, hogy szeretlek.
BEÁTRISZ.
Használja hát szerelmemért másképen, mint hogy esküszik reá.
BENCZE.
Lelkéből gondolja ön, hogy gróf Claudio rágalmazta Hérót?
BEÁTRISZ.
Igen, olyan bizonyosan, mint a hogy lelkem vagy gondolatom van.
BENCZE.
Elég! Mindenre kész vagyok: kihívom őt. Engedje kezét megcsókolnom, s aztán indulok. E
kézre esküszöm, Claudio drágán fog nekem számot adni. A mint hall felőlem, úgy vélekedjék
rólam. Menjen, vigasztalja húgát; nekem azt kell beszélnem, hogy Héro meghalt. Isten önnel.
(El.)
II. SZÍN.
�Börtön.
Galagonya, Bunkós, Egy Jegyző, hivatalos ruhákban, Két Őr, Konrád és Borachio.
GALAGONYA.
Megjelent az egész vizsgáló bizomány?
BUNKÓS.
Oh, széket és párnát a jegyző úrnak.
JEGYZŐ.
Hol vannak a vádlottak?
GALAGONYA.
Én vagyok, kérem alásan, és a társam.
BUNKÓS.
Igenis, mi fogjuk vádolni az előterjesztést.
JEGYZŐ.
De hol vannak a kihallgatandó bűnösök? Hozzátok ide, a biztos úr elé.
GALAGONYA.
Igen hát, hozzátok őket elém. – Mi a kend neve, barátom?
BORACHIO.
Borachio.
GALAGONYA.
�Kérem, írja: Borachio. Hát a kendé, ficzkó?
KONRÁD.
Én nemes ember vagyok, uram, a nevem Konrád.
GALAGONYA.
Írja: nemes ember Konrád úr. – Uraim, bíznak-e kendtek az Istenben!
KONRÁD, BORACHIO.
Igen, uram, reméljük.
GALAGONYA.
Írja: remélik, hogy bíznak az istenben; de az Istent elől írja: mert Isten őrizz’, hogy az Isten
előbb ne menjen az ilyen gazembereknél! – uraim, már be van bizonyítva, hogy kendtek nem
sokkal jobbak a csaló csavargóknál; azonban erről bővebb vád is forog fenn. Mivel védhetik
kendtek magokat?
KONRÁD.
Röviden azt mondjuk, uram, hogy nem vagyunk azok.
GALAGONYA.
Bámulatos furfangos ficzkó, higyjék el; de majd kiforgatom én. – Jöjjön kend ide, bűnös,
hadd beszéljek a fejével: hát azt akarom mondani, hogy kendteket csaló csavargóknak
vádolják.
BORACHIO.
Mondom, uram, nem vagyunk azok.
GALAGONYA.
Jól van, álljon félre. – Ezek, Isten bizony, egy nótát fúnak. Felírta-e, hogy ők nem azok?
JEGYZŐ.
�Biztos uram, nem helyes úton kezdi a vizsgálatot; hivassa elő az őröket: azok a vádlók.
GALAGONYA.
Igazság, ez a leghamarabb út. – Jöjjenek elő az őrök. Uraim, felszólítlak a herczeg nevében,
vádoljátok ezen embereket.
1. ŐR.
Ez az ember, uram, azt mondta, hogy János gróf, a herczeg testvéröcscse, gazember volna.
GALAGONYA.
Irja: János herczeg gazember. No ez világos esküszegés, a herczeg testvérét gazembernek
mondani.
BORACHIO.
Biztos úr…
GALAGONYA.
Hallgass, ficzkó; csendesen; a nézésedet sem szeretem.
JEGYZŐ.
Mit hallottak még mást tőle?
2. ŐR.
Hát hogy János herczegtől ezer aranyat kapott volna, mert Héro kisasszonyt hamisan
gyanusította.
GALAGONYA.
Olyan világos zendülés, a milyet csak valaha elkövethettek.
BUNKÓS.
Igenis, Mária-ugyse, az ez.
�JEGYZŐ.
Még egyebet mondtak-e, barátom?
1. ŐR.
Meg, hogy Claudio grófnak szándéka volna, azt mondják, meggyalázni Héro kisasszonyt az
egész gyülekezet előtt, és nem esküdni meg vele.
GALAGONYA.
Oh, gazember, ezért örökkévaló megváltásra fogsz kárhozni.
JEGYZŐ.
Hét még egyéb?
2. ŐR.
Ez az egész.
JEGYZŐ.
És ez több, uraim, mint a mennyit el tudnának tagadni. János herczeg ma reggel titkosan
elszökött, Héro épen ily módon vádoltatott, épen ily módon visszautasíttatott, és e miatt
bánatában hirtelen meghalt. Biztos uram, köttesse meg ezeket az embereket, s vitesse Leonato
úr házához; én előre megyek, megmutatom neki vallomásukat.
(El.)
GALAGONYA.
Meg kell őket kötelezni.
BUNKÓS.
No csak a kezökre!
KONRÁD.
Odább ostoba!
GALAGONYA.
�Teremtő Isten! hol van a jegyző? Hadd írja mindjárt, hogy a herczeg tisztviselője ostoba.
Gyertek, kössétek meg! – Te semmirekellő fattyú!
KONRÁD.
El innen, kend szamár, kend szamár.
GALAGONYA.
Nem méltatod állásomat? nem méltatod koromat? Oh bár itt volna a jegyző, hadd írná: én
szamár! De, uraim, ráemlékezzetek, hogy én szamár vagyok; bár nincs leírva, de el ne
felejtsétek, hogy én szamár vagyok. – No, te gazember, te telve vagy kegyelettel, amint majd
reád fog bizonyulni jó tanúk által. Én okos ember vagyok; a mi több, tiszt vagyok; a mi több,
a magam gazdája; a mi több, olyan takaros darab hús, mint Messinában akárki; és olyan
ember, a ki érti a törvényt, hallod-e; és gazdag legény is, hallod-e; olyan legény, a kinek jut is,
marad is; a kinek két öltöző ruhája van, és mindene rendesen, takarosan. Vigyétek el. Oh bár
írásban volna, hogy én szamár vagyok.
(El.)
ÖTÖDIK FELVONÁS.
I. SZÍN.
Leonato háza előtt.
Leonato és Antonio.
ANTONIO.
Ha így haladsz, megölöd tenmagad’:
Nem okosság a bút ekként uszítni.
Magadra.
LEONATO.
Kérlek hagyd el a tanácsod’,
Mely oly haszontalan hull a fülembe,
�Mintha a szitába a víz. Ne tanácsolj;
S vigaszt se halljon mástól a fülem,
Mint a kinek búja fölér enyimmel:
Hozz egy atyát, ki lányát így szerette,
Kinek gyönyöre ekként romba dőlt,
S kérd azt, hogy intsen türelemre; mérd meg
Bújával az enyimnek széle-hosszát,
Hogy ízrül-ízre összeilljenek,
Ez erre és ilyen bánat ilyenre,
Minden vonalban, ágban és alakban:
Ha ez mosolyg és simítja szakálát,
És „félre gond!” hmget, ha sírni kéne,
Ha búját bölcs szavakkal tatarozza,
Ha a bajt, gyertya-pusztítók között,
Leinni kész: jól van, hozd őt ide,
S én megtanulom tőle a türelmet.
De ilyen ember nincs: mindenki tud
Tanácsot adni, vígasztalni a bút,
Mit ő nem ér’z; de ha belé harap,
Már szenvedélylyé válik a tanács,
Mely a dühnek gyógyszert kinált előbb,
A bőszülést selyem-szálon akarta
Lekötni és a kínt lehelletével,
Az izgalmat szóval bűvölni le.
Nem, nem! mindenki csak tűrést tanácsol
Annak, kit a búbánat súlya görnyeszt;
De senkiben nincs ám erény s kitartás
Ily jámborul szenvedni, hogyha rá
Van mérve az. Ne adj nekem tanácsot:
Intésedet túlsírja bánatom.
�ANTONIO.
Hát nem különb a gyermeknél az ember?
LEONATO.
Kérlek, hagyj engem: én hús, vér vagyok;
De hisz nem is volt még oly bölcs soha,
Ki a fogfájás tűrni tudta volna,
Habár az istenek stiljával írt,
És sorsnak, szenvedésnek fittyeket hányt.
ANTONIO.
Ne végy magadra minden bánatot:
Éreztesd azzal inkább, a ki megsért.
LEONATO.
Igazad van: igen, meg is teszem.
Héro nem vétkezett, azt súgja lelkem:
Hadd hallja ezt a herczeg s Claudio,
S mindaz, ki őt így megbecsteleníté.
Péter Herczeg és Claudio jönnek.
ANTONIO.
Itt jő a herczeg s Claudio sietve.
HERCZEG.
Jó napot, jó napot.
CLAUDIO.
Jó napot mindekettőjöknek.
�LEONATO.
Hallják, uram…
HERCZEG.
Sietünk, Leonato!
LEONATO.
Igen, sietnek! Jó, csak menjenek…
Sietnek úgy-e most? Jól van. No mindegy.
HERCZEG.
Ej, jó öreg, ne veszekedj’ velünk.
ANTONIO.
Ha igazán veszekedni akarna,
Valamelyönk porba heverne itt.
CLAUDIO.
Ki sérti őt?
LEONATO.
Te sértesz, színlelő.
Ejh, sohse tedd kardodra a kezed’:
Nem félek én tőled.
CLAUDIO.
Legyen kezem
Elátkozott, ha ily aggot ijeszt meg.
Önkénytelen érintém kardomat.
�LEONATO.
Ember, ne űzz tréfát velem, ne csúfolj:
Én nem vagyok se hülye, sem bolond,
Hogy aggság örvén dicsekedjem azzal,
Mit tettem ifjan, vagy miket tehetnék,
Ha vén nem volnék. Tudd meg, Claudio,
Te megsértéd ártatlan leányom’ s engem,
És kényszerítsz, hogy mindent félretéve,
Ősz hajjal és sok év sebhelyivel,
Kihívjalak, mint férfi férfiút.
Rágalmazád ártatlan gyermekem’:
Szivén rágalmad át meg át hatott,
Ott nyugszik őseim közt eltemetve,
Hová botrány még soha nem került, az
Övén kívűl, mint gazságod koholt.
CLAUDIO.
Gazságom?
LEONATO.
Az, gazságod, mondom, az.
HERCZEG.
Igaztalant beszélsz, öreg.
LEONATO.
Uram,
Testén bebizonyítom: merje hát!
Hisz vívni tud, folyvást gyakorolja azt,
�És élte májusán van, víg erőben.
CLAUDIO.
El! Önnel én semmit sem kezdhetek.
LEONATO.
Leráznál úgy-e? Gyermekem’ megölted:
Ha engem ölsz meg, fattyú, férfit ölsz.
ANTONIO.
Öljön meg mindkettőnket, férfiakat!
De arra nem jut; öljön engem elsőbb:
Győzz meg s taposs el… Hadd feleljen, engedj!
Jer, fattyú, jer velem! fattyú, kövess!
Kivirgácsollak vívó-iskoláddal,
Ki én! úgy légyen a nevem nemes.
LEONATO.
Öcsém…
ANTONIO.
Ne bánts. Az Isten látja, mint
Szerettem húgomat: most halva fekszik:
Halálra rágalmazták e gazok, kik
Úgy mernek szembe-nézni férfival,
Mint én merek kígyót megfogni nyelvén
Majmok, bitangok, gyávák, poltronok!
LEONATO.
Öcsém, Antonio…
�ANTONIO.
Ne bánts! Tudom jól,
Kik és mit érnek ők mind egy szemerig.
Hóbortos, orczátlan divat-babák,
Hazug, maró, csúfos rágalmazók,
Bohóczok, a kik külsőleg ijesztők,
Elmondanak vagy féltuczat merész szót:
Hogy tönkre tennék ellenségöket,
Azaz, ha mernék. Ennyi az egész.
LEONATO.
Öcsém, Antonio…
ANTONIO.
Ejh, hagyd el, és ne
Avatkozz’ ebbe: hagyd csak reám.
HERCZEG.
Urak, mi nem szítjuk már a türelmet.
Szivem zokog leányának halálán;
De semmi vád, becsületemre, nem volt,
Csak a való, bebizonyúlt igazság.
LEONATO.
Uram, uram!
HERCZEG.
Nem hallgatom.
�LEONATO.
Nem-é?
Jer hát, öcsém. Majd meghallgatna még!
ANTONIO.
Meg ám, vagy egyikünk lakolni fog.
(Leonato és Antonio el.)
Bencze jön.
HERCZEG.
Nézd, nézd, itt jön, a kit keresni indultunk.
CLAUDIO.
No, pajtás, mi újság?
BENCZE.
Jó napot, uram.
HERCZEG.
Hozott Isten, barátom. Épen arra jöttél, hogy majdnem szétválaszsz egy verekedést.
CLAUDIO.
Majd leharapta az orrunkat két fogatlan vén ember.
HERCZEG.
Leonato és öcscse. Mit gondolsz? Ha megverekedtünk volna, úgy-e mégis nagyon fiatalok
lettünk volna hozzájok?
BENCZE.
Álnok ügyben nincs meg a valódi bátorság. Én épen önöket keresem.
�CLAUDIO.
Mi is régen őgyelgünk, téged keresve: mert nagyon elővett bennünket a komorság, azt
szeretnők elűzni. Hegyezd egy kissé az eszed’.
BENCZE.
Itt van a hüvelyembe: kihúzzam?
HERCZEG.
Hát te az eszedet oldaladon hordod?
CLAUDIO.
Azt ugyan még senki sem tette, bár akadtak elegen, ki az eszöket félrecsapták.
HERCZEG.
Becsületemre, ez a fiú halvány. Beteg vagy-é, vagy mérges?
CLAUDIO.
Ej, bátorság, pajtás! Kutyát ölje meg a bánat; te benned van elég erő, hogy megöld a bánatot.
BENCZE.
Uram, én elibe vágok élczeinek, ha ellenem intézi. Kérem, válasszon más tárgyat.
CLAUDIO.
Akkor szerezz más dárdát, mert utolsó dárdád összetört.
HERCZEG.
A napfényre mondom, jobban-jobban elváltozik. Azt hiszem, csakugyan mérges.
CLAUDIO.
Ha az, hiszen tudja, hogy kell nekigyűrkőzni.
�BENCZE.
Mondhatok-e már egy szót?
CLAUDIO.
Isten mentesen, még párbajra hí!
BENCZE.
Ön gazember. Nem tréfálok. Jóvá teszem, a mint akarja ön, a mivel akarja ön, a mikor akarja
ön. Ön megölt egy kedves hölgyet, és annak halála súlyosan fog önre visszahullni. Tudassa
szándékát.
CLAUDIO.
Jó, tehát találkozunk, legalább egy jót vigadok.
HERCZEG.
Mi az? lakoma, lakoma?
CLAUDIO.
Az bizony: meg is köszönöm neki: meghívott borjúfejre és kappanra, a mit ha derekasan föl
nem darabolok, mondják a késemet vaskónak. Hát kanpulyka lesz-e?
BENCZE.
Uram, nagyon könnyen ugrál az esze.
HERCZEG.
Tudod-e, hogy a te eszedet Beátrisz tegnap hogy dicsérte? Arról beszéltem, hogy ügyes az
eszed. „Az ám,” azt mondja, „ügyes kis ész.” „Nem, nem” mondom én, „nagy ész az.” „Igen,”
azt mondja, „nagy otromba ész.” „Dehogy,” mondom én, „igen jó ész.” „Igazán,” mondja ő,
„nem bánt senkit.” „Nem úgy,” mondom megint, „valódi okos és bölcs.” „Okos, mint a kos,
bölcs, mint a lőcs,” mondja ő. „Több nyelven beszél,” mondom én „Igen,” mondja ő, „nekem
hétfőn este megesküdött valamire, a mit kedden reggel már meghazudtolt: tehát két különböző
nyelven beszélt.” Így forgatta a személyes erényeidet, majd egy óra hosszat; de végre is egy
sohajjal fejezte be, hogy te vagy a legderekabb ember az országban.
�CLAUDIO.
Aztán szivéből kisírta magát, s azt mondta, hogy bánja is ő.
HERCZEG.
Bezzeg úgy az; de mindamellett téged, ha halálig nem gyűlölne, halálosan szeretne. Ez öreg
úr leánya nekünk mindent elbeszélt.
CLAUDIO.
Mindent, mindent, s még többet is. „Az Úristen meglátta őt, midőn elbújt vala a kertben.”
HERCZEG.
Mikor tűzzük már a bika szarvát az érzelgős Bencze homlokára?
CLAUDIO.
Alá pedig egy feliratot: „Itt lakik a megházasodott Bencze.”
BENCZE.
Ficzkó, szándékomat tudod. Most itt hagylak fecsegő kedvedben. Úgy forgatod az élczeket,
mint szájhős a kardját, a mely, hála Isten, senkinek sem árt. – Fölséges uram, köszönöm sok
kegyét; el kell válnom kiséretéből. Öcscse, a fattyúvér, megszökött Messinából; önök közösen
megöltek egy kedves, ártatlan leányt. A mi pedig ezt a szakálatlan úrfit illeti vele majd
találkozunk; addig élje világát.
(Bencze el.)
HERCZEG.
Komolyan beszél.
CLAUDIO.
A legkomolyabban; és megesküszöm reá, hogy Beátrisz iránti szerelemből.
HERCZEG.
Téged párbajra hítt?
�CLAUDIO.
A leghatározottabban.
HERCZEG.
Furcsa biz az ember, mikor az ingét, nadrágát magával viszi, de az eszét elhagyja.
CLAUDIO.
Akkor is óriás a majomhoz képest; de a majom meg tudós az ilyenhez mérve.
HERCZEG.
De türtőztesd magad’; hagyja csak most; zsugorodjál össze, szivem, s légy komoly. Nem azt
mondta-e Bencze, hogy az öcsém megszökött?
Galagonya, Bunkós, a Két Őr jönnek, Konráddal és Borachióval.
GALAGONYA.
Jöjjenek, csak jöjjenek: ha az igazság most meg nem tudja szelidíteni az urakat, no hiszen ne
is tartsa többet azt a fontot a kezében. Akármilyen elátkozott képmutogatók az urak, majd
szemmel tartjuk most.
HERCZEG.
Hogyan, mi ez? az öcsének két embere megkötözve? Az egyik Borachio.
CLAUDIO.
Hallgassa meg a vétköket, fölséged.
HERCZEG.
Biztosok, mi vétket követtek el ezek az urak?
GALAGONYA.
�Hát, fölséges uram, hamis vallomást tettek; azon följül nem igazat mondtak; másodszor
rágalmazók is; hatodszor és utoljára gyanúba kevertek egy kisasszony; harmadszor valótlan
igazságokat koholtak; és végtére mind a ketten hazug gazemberek.
HERCZEG.
Először, azt kérdem, mit csináltak? harmadszor azt kérdem mit a vétkök? hatodszor és
utoljára, mit követtek el? és végtére, mi vádat akarsz emelni ellenök?
CLAUDIO.
Helyes kérdések, fölség, épen az ő beosztása szerint. Becsületemre mondom, pompásan
felczifrázta ezt a gondolatot.
HERCZEG.
Kit bántottak az urak, hogy így megkötözve hozatnak a vallatásra? Ez a tudós biztos úr olyan
körülményes, hogy nem lehet megérteni. Mi a vétkök?
BORACHIO.
Fölséges herczeg, ne hurczoltasson tovább a kihallgatás végett: hallgasson meg, s aztán hadd
öljön meg ez a gróf úr. Én megcsaltam a fölségetek saját szemeit. A mit fölséged bölcsessége
nem bírt fölfedezni, kiderítették ezek a gügye szájtátók, a kik az éjjel kihallgattak, midőn
megvallottam e társamnak, hogyan ösztönzött János gróf, a fölséged öcscse, hogy gyanúba
keverjen Héro kisasszonyt; hogyan hoztuk fölségteket a kertbe; hogy láttak ott engem
szerelmeskedni Margittal, Héro ruhájában; s hogy becsteleníté meg Hérót a gróf, mikor
esküdni akartak. Gazságomat ezek jegyzőkönyvbe vették, s én inkább halálommal pecsételem
azt, mintsem valaha ismételjem. A kisasszony meghalt az én és uram hamis vádunk
következtében. Röviden tehát, nem kivánok egyebet, mint gazságom büntetését.
HERCZEG.
Nem vas gyanánt fut-e e szó véreden át?
CLAUDIO.
Oh, mérget ittam, a míg elbeszélte.
HERCZEG.
S öcsém lovalt föl erre tégedet?
�BORACHIO.
Ő; és az ármányt dúsan megfizette.
HERCZEG.
Rút hitszegésből áll egész valója.
És megszökött e csúf gazság után!
CLAUDIO.
Édes Héróm! most képed úgy tünik föl,
A mint először megszerettelek.
GALAGONYA.
Gyerünk; hozzátok a vádlottakat; azóta a jegyző úr Leonato urat is kellőleg utalványozta a
dologról. Aztán, barátaim, el ne felejtsétek tekintetbe venni, ha eljön az ideje és helye, hogy
én szamár vagyok.
BUNKÓS.
Épen itt jön Leonato uraság és a jegyző úr.
Leonato, Antonio és a Jegyző jönnek.
LEONATO.
Hol a gazember? hadd nézzek szemébe!
Hogy máskoron, ha ilyenforma embert
Találok, elkerüljem. Melyik az?
BORACHIO.
Ha sértőjét keresi, nézzen én rám.
LEONATO.
Te vagy, bitang, ki egy lehelleteddel
�Megölted gyermekem’?
BORACHIO.
Én, egyedűl én.
LEONATO.
Nem úgy; hazudsz, gazember: ime itt áll
Ez a derék két úr, a harmadik
Már megszökött, kik szintén részesek.
Herczeg, köszönöm a lyányom halálát:
Igtassa ezt nagy tettei sorába,
Fejdelmi tett volt, csak gondolja meg jól.
CLAUDIO.
Hogy kérjem a türelmed’? nem tudom;
De szólanom kell. Válaszsz bosszuállást;
Mérj büntetést, minőt ki tudsz találni
Bűnömre: óh hiszen nem vétkezém,
Csak tévedésből.
HERCZEG.
Én sem, esküszöm;
S mégis, hogy e jó agg engesztelődjék,
Alávetem magam’ bármily tehernek,
Mit ő reám mér.
LEONATO.
Nem kérhetem, hogy lyányomat föléleszd;
Az lehetetlen; oh, csak arra kérlek,
Győzzétek a város népét meg arról,
�Hogy ő ártatlanúl halt; s ha szerelmed,
Bús ihletéssel, még alkotni tud,
Tégy sírkövére egy gyászverset és
Zengd el fölötte azt, zengd el ma éjjel.
És holnap aztán jöjj hozzám megint,
S ha már vőm nem lehetsz, légy hát öcsém.
Testvéröcsémnek is van egy leánya,
Egészen mása elhalt gyermekemnek,
Egyetlen örökös kettőnk után:
Nyújtsd néki nénjének szánt jobbodat:
Így meg fog halni bosszúm.
CLAUDIO.
Oh nemes sziv,
Kegyességed könnyet fakaszt szemembe!
Ajánlatod’ tárt karral fogadom:
Ezentúl a tied szegény Claudio.
LEONATO.
Holnap tehát várok reád; ma éjre
Búcsút veszek. Ezt a galád gazembert
majd szembe állítom Margittal, a kit,
Úgy gondolom, kibérelt János úr
E cselszövésre.
BORACHIO.
Nem, lelkemre, nem:
Nem tudta, mit tesz, a mikor velem
Beszélgetett; mindenben hű, erényes
Volt mindig ő, mióta ismerem.
�GALAGONYA.
Azon feljűl azonban, fölséges uram, a mi még nincs tisztába hozva, ez a vádlott, ez a bűnös itt
ni, engem szamárnak mondott: könyörgöm alásan, emlékezzék meg erről a büntetésében.
Aztán meg az őrök hallották őket még bizonyos Alakosról is beszélni: azt mondják róla, hogy
ez az ember mindig égetteti a haját és annálfogva irtóztató lángoló fejjel ijesztgeti a népet, a
mellett meg pénzt kér kölcsön az Isten nevében, de soha sem fizet, s ez által úgy elrontotta az
Isten hitelét, hogy arra mai napság már senki sem akar pénzt adni. Kérem alásan, vallassák ki
őket erre nézvést is.
LEONATO.
Köszönöm az őrködést, és becsületes fáradságodat.
GALAGONYA.
Uraságod olyan szépen beszél, mint egy háládatos és illendőség-tudó ifjú; dicsértessék az úr
neve érette.
LEONATO.
Nesze a fáradságodért. (Pénzt ad neki.))
GALAGONYA.
Kegyesen köszönöm az eklézsia nevében.
LEONATO.
Csak eredj: átveszem tőled a foglyokat, és még egyszer köszönöm.
GALAGONYA.
Itt hagyom tehát ezt a csavargó bűnöst uraságodnak; de könyörgöm alásan, mások szigorú
példája végett tessék megjavítani magát. Isten tartsa meg uraságodat; minden jót kivánok:
adja vissza az úr teljes egészségét. Alázatosan engedelem adatván az eltávozásra, reménylem,
hogy mielőbbi szives viszonttalálkozásunkat az Isten kegyesen meggátolandja. Jöjjenek,
szomszéd.
(Galagonya, Bunkós és az Őrök el.)
�LEONATO.
Holnap reggelig, uraim, Isten áldja önöket.
ANTONIO.
Áldja Isten, urak: holnapra elvárjuk.
HERCZEG.
Nem maradunk el.
CLAUDIO.
Az éjjel Hérót fogom siratni.
(Péter Herczeg és Claudio el.)
LEONATO.
Kisérd be e ficzkókat: majd kikérdjük Margitot, honnan ismerős velök.
II. SZÍN.
Leonato kertje.
Bencze és Margit, szemközt találkozva, jönnek.
BENCZE.
Kérlek, édes Margit, játszál a kezemre egy kissé, hogy beszélhessek Beátriszszal.
MARGIT.
Ír-e aztán egy szonettet a szépségem dicséretére?
BENCZE.
Írok, édes Margit, olyan ragyogó stilusban, hogy élő ember túl nem tesz rajta; mert, igaz
lelkemre, megérdemled.
�MARGIT.
Hogy túltegyenek rajtam? Köszönöm.
BENCZE.
Eszed olyan gyors, mint az agár szája; mindent elkap.
MARGIT.
Az öné pedig úgy eltompult, mint a vívómester tőre, mely bök, de nem árt.
BENCZE.
Egészen férfias élcz, Margit: nőt ez nem sérthetne. De én leteszem a fegyvert. Kérlek, hozd el
Beátriszt.
MARGIT.
Jól van, elhivom; de nem hozom, hiszen van lába.
BENCZE.
Úgy el is jön.
(Margit el.)
(Bencze dúdolva.)
Még Ámor is,
A kis hamis,
Ha rám tekint,
Megszán az is,
tudniilik az éneklésemért; de a szerelemben: Leander a híres úszó, Troilus a kerítők első
fölfedezője, és egy egész könyvteli sorozata ezeknek a hajdani szőnyegtaposóknak, kiknek
neve még ma is lágyan suhan a sima versek egyenes ösvényén, bizony valamennyiöket sem
forgatta úgy összevissza a szerelem, mint szegény fejemet. Hanem versben nem tudom
bizonyítani; megpróbáltam, de nem találok más rímet, mint „hölgy,” „tölgy:” ez igen illetlen;
„élcz,” „fércz:” ez goromba; „bölcs,” „lőcs:” ez meg túlságosan igaz: mindeniket kényes
dolog használni. Nem, én nem születtem verselő csillagzat alatt, és ünnepélyes kifejezésekkel
sem tudok beszélni.
Beátrisz jő.
�Édes Beátrisz, tehát eljöve, mikor kérettem?
BEÁTRISZ.
El, uram; és eltávozom, mikor parancsolja.
BENCZE.
Óh maradjon csak akkorig.
BEÁTRISZ.
„Akkor” ki van mondva: most hát Isten áldja meg! De mégis addig nem megyek, míg meg
nem tudom, a miért jöttem: mi történt ön és Claudio között?
BENCZE.
Csak léha szavak: adjon egy csókot reájok.
BEÁTRISZ.
Léha szó, léha szellő; s léha szellő hamar megárt; tehát csókolatlanul távozom.
BENCZE.
Kiriasztja a szót valódi értelméből, oly hatalmas az élcze. De, nyiltan szólva: Claudio
megkapta a kihívásomat, s vagy rövid időn többet hallok tőle, vagy gyávának nyilatkoztatom.
Most, kérem, mondja meg, melyik rossz tulajdonomért szeretett először belém.
BEÁTRISZ.
Valamennyiért: mert oly egyetértéssel alkotják azok a rosszaság országát, hogy nem engednek
semmi jó tulajdont magok közé vegyűlni. És ön melyik rossz tulajdonomért szenvedte először
szerelmét irántam?
BENCZE.
Szenvedtem a szerelmet! jó kifejezés. Szenvedem a szerelmet, igazán, mert akaratom ellen
szeretlek.
BEÁTRISZ.
�Szive daczára, gondolom. Oh szegény szív! Ha ön daczol vele miattam, én is daczolok vele
ön miatt: mert soha sem tudnám szeretni azt, a mit barátom gyűlöl.
BENCZE.
Nagyon okosak vagyunk mi, ön és én, hogy békében összekeljünk.
BEÁTRISZ.
E vallomásból nem látszik: okos ember húsz közt sincs egy, a ki önmagát dicsérje.
BENCZE.
Réges régi mondás már az, Beátrisz, mely még a jó szomszédok idejében támadt. Mai napság,
ha az ember föl nem állítja a síremlékét, míg meg nem hal, bizony nem él tovább az
emlékezetben, csak míg a harang szól és az özvegy sír.
BEÁTRISZ.
És meddig tart ez, mit gondol?
BENCZE.
Kérdés: talán egy óráig jajgat s egy negyedig kesereg; azért tehát legjobb kisegítő az okos
embernek (ha Féreg úr, a lelkiismerete, nem akadályozza), hogy maga legyen a saját
erényének trombitája, mint én vagyok a magamé. Ennyit az öndicséretről, a mi, merem
állítani, dicséretreméltó. – Mondja, kérem, hogy van a húga?
BEÁTRISZ.
Igen rosszúl.
BENCZE.
Hát ön?
BEÁTRISZ.
Én is igen rosszúl.
BENCZE.
�Bízzék Istenben, szeressen engem, és jobbuljon meg. Most én is búcsút veszek, mert itt jön
valaki, nagyon sietve.
Ursula jő.
URSULA.
Kisasszony, jöjjön, kérem, a bátyjához. Óriás zavar van otthon: kiderült, hogy Héro
kisasszonyt hamisan vádolták, a herczeget és Claudiót roppantul megcsalták; János úr a
szerzője mindennek, a ki azóta megszökött. Jöjjön, kérem, azonnal.
BEÁTRISZ.
Jön-e uram ezeket a jó újságokat megtudni?
BENCZE.
Szivedben akarok élni, öledben halni és szemeidben temetkezni; s azonkivül most is, ime,
megyek veled a bátyádhoz.
(Elmennek.)
III. SZÍN.
Egy templom belseje.
Péter Herczeg, Claudio és Kisérők jönnek, zenével és fáklyákkal.
CLAUDIO.
Ez a Leonato síremléke?
KISÉRŐK.
Ez, uram.
CLAUDIO.
(egy tekercsről olvassa):
Sírba vitte álnok ármány
Hérót, a kit itt fed a hant;
�De a szenvedések árán
Örök hírt nyert, halhatatlant:
A gyalázatban halt élet
A halálban dicsre éled.
(Fölszegzi a verset a síremlékre.)
Függj itt, kis dal, sírkövén,
S dicsérd, ha nem élek én.
Zenét elő most, ünnepélyes gyászdalt!
Ének.
Éj-királynő, oh bocsánat,
Hogy megöltük szűzedet:
Ime gyászdal, tiszta bánat,
Sírja körűl gyászmenet.
Éjfél, halld sóhajunk’
Gyászosan, gyászosan!
Sírok, rendűljetek,
Holtak, ébredjetek,
Gyászosan, gyászosan!
CLAUDIO.
És most jó éjt, drága hamvak!
Évenkint meglátogatlak.
HERCZEG.
Oltsátok el fáklyátokat. Derűl.
A farkas a zsákmányt végezte. Távol
Kelet sötétjén szürke fény terűl,
S a tiszta nap jő Phoebus kocsijával.
Mind elmehettek: Isten véletek.
�CLAUDIO.
Isten megáldja! kiki maga útján.
HERCZEG.
Gyerünk mi is, más ösvényen, előre;
Aztán Leonatóhoz, új esküvőre.
CLAUDIO.
És hymen adjon jobb sorsot reánk,
Mint a miért most gyászszal áldozánk.
(Elmennek.)
IV. SZÍN.
Szoba Leonato házában.
Leonato, Antonio, Bencze, Margit, Beátrisz, Ursula, a Szerzetes és Héro jönnek.
SZERZETES.
Nem mondtam-é, hogy ártatlan leányod?
LEONATO.
A herczeg s Claudio is az, kik őt,
A mint tudod, tévedve vádolák;
Csak Margit egy kissé hibás, habár
Szándéka ellen tette ő is, a mint
A vallatásokból tisztán kitűnt.
ANTONIO.
No, csakhogy ily szépen ütött ki minden.
�BENCZE.
Örülök én is, mert hittel fogadtam,
Hogy érte Claudiót megszámoltatom.
LEONATO.
Most, lányom, és ti nők mindannyian,
Vonúljatok be egy oldal-szobába,
S ha hívatunk, álarczba jöjjetek ki.
(A nők elmennek.)
A herczeg s Claudio mostanra hozzám
Igérkezének. Légy készen, öcsém:
Te most az én leányom apja lészsz.
S nőül adod gróf Claudiónak őt.
ANTONIO.
Ne félj, szilárd orczával végrehajtom.
BENCZE.
Jó szerzetes, talán fölkérem én is
Szolgálatát.
SZERZETES.
Hogyan, miben, uram?
BENCZE.
Kössön vagy oldjon engem: így vagy úgy.
Uram, Leonato, nincs mit tagadnom,
A húga jó szemmel tekint reám.
�LEONATO.
Lányom vezette úgy szemét, tudom.
BENCZE.
Én is szerelmes szemmel nézem őt.
LEONATO.
E nézet én tőlem meg Claudiótól
S a herczegtől ered. S mi szándoka?
BENCZE.
Az ön felelete, uram, talányos;
De hogy mi szándokom? Hát szándokom
Megnyerni önnek a jó szándokát,
S illendő házasságra lépni még ma.
Ehhez kérem, jó szerzetes, segélyét.
LEONATO.
Szivem szerelmedé.
SZERZETES.
Segélyem is.
Im itt jön a herczeg és Claudio.
Péter Herczeg és Claudio Kisérettel jönnek.
HERCZEG.
Jó reggelt e nemes gyülekezetnek.
LEONATO.
Jó reggelt, herczeg úr; jó reggelt, Claudio:
�Már vártunk önt. Tehát el van határ’zva,
Öcsém leányát nőül venni ma?
CLAUDIO.
Szavamnak állok, ha szerecsen is.
LEONATO.
No, hívd elő, öcsém: itt a pap is.
(Antonio el.)
HERCZEG.
Jó reggelt, Bencze. Ej, no hát, mi baj,
Hogy arczod ily rettentő februári?
Egész fagyos, borús és felleges.
CLAUDIO.
Tán a bikán jár most is az esze.
Ne félj, szarvadra arany gombot teszünk.
S egész Európa majd bámulni fog,
Mint egykor Európa bámulta Zevszt,
Ki szerelemből ölte bika-mezt.
BENCZE.
Zevsz, mint bika, jól bömbölt a hamis:
Ily bika tört apád aklába is,
És lopva ilyen borjút nemze ott,
Mint te, mert bőgését te is tudod.
Antonio visszajő a leálarczozott nőkkel.
CLAUDIO.
�(Benczéhez).
Majd számolunk! Most másra számolok.
(Antonióhoz.) Melyik kisasszonyhoz kell szólanom?
ANTONIO.
Im itt van: én örökre átadom.
CLAUDIO.
No úgy enyim. Szép hölgy, hagyd látnom arczod’.
LEONATO.
Azt nem szabad, míg meg nem esküszöl,
Lelkész előtt, hogy őt nőül veszed.
CLAUDIO.
Add hát kezed’, s e szent lelkész előtt
Férjed vagyok s leszek, ha elfogadsz.
HÉRO.
(leveszi álarczát).
Midőn még éltem, másik nőd valék;
Midőn szerettél, másik férjem voltál.
CLAUDIO.
Egy másik Héro?
HÉRO.
Az, bizonynyal az.
Egy Hérót a szégyen megölt, én élek,
S amily igaz, hogy élek, szűz vagyok.
�HERCZEG.
Az első Héro! Héro, a ki meghalt.
HÉRO.
Meghalt, uram, de csak míg szennye élt.
SZERZETES.
Mind e csodálkozást megfejtem én;
Ha a szent szertartást bevégezők,
Majd elbeszélem szép Héro halálát.
Addig barátkozzatok e csodával.
És most jerünk a kápolnába által.
BENCZE.
Lassan, megállj, papom. – Hol van Beátrisz?
BEÁTRISZ.
E névre én értek. (Leveszi álarczát.) Mit akar ön?
BENCZE.
Szeretsz-e?
BEÁTRISZ.
No, nem túl a józan észen.
BENCZE.
Ejh, akkor a bátyád, a herczeg s Claudio
Csalódtak: azt esküdték, hogy szeretsz.
�BEÁTRISZ.
Szeret ön?
BENCZE.
Eh, nem túl a józan észen.
BEÁTRISZ.
No akkor a húgom, Ursula s Margit
Csalódtak: azt esküdték, hogy szeret.
BENCZE.
Megesküdtek, hogy ön beteg utánam.
BEÁTRISZ.
Megesküdtek, hogy ön félholt utánam.
BENCZE.
Szó sincs ilyesről. – Nos, hát nem szeretsz?
BEÁTRISZ.
Nem én, nem, csak hű viszonzás fejében.
LEONATO.
Ej, húgom, én tudom, hogy szereted.
CLAUDIO.
S én esküszöm, hogy Bencze szereti:
Mert itt az írás, a saját kezével,
Egy sánta vers, saját mokány agyából,
Dicsőítvén Beátriszt.
�HÉRO.
Itt a másik,
Mit húgom írt: zsebéből loptuk el,
Szerelemmel teli Bencze iránt.
BENCZE.
Igazi csuda! Saját kezünk a saját szivünk ellen. – Jer, elveszlek; de a fényes napra mondom,
csupa merő szánalomból.
BEÁTRISZ.
No, nem tagadom meg a kérelmét; de a nap fényére mondom, csak a nagy unszolásnak
engedek, és egyrészt azért, hogy megmentsem életét, mert azt mondják, hogy egészen eleped
ön.
BENCZE.
Csitt! Betapasztom a szádat.
(Megcsókolja.)
HERCZEG.
Hogy vagy, Bencze? Megházasodott Bence!
BENCZE.
Mondok valamit, herczegem. Egy egész kollegium élczgyártó sem tudna engem most
kiszurkálni a jó kedvemből. Azt gondolja, törődöm a szatirával vagy epigrammokkal? Nem
én: hiszen ha az embert ötletekkel meg lehetne verni, senki sem találna magán egy ép foltot.
Egy szó, mint száz: ha nekem kedvem van házasodni, nem gondolok azzal, milyen kedve telik
benne a világnak. Tehát soha se szurkáljatok azért, a mit eddig ellene beszéltem, mert az
ember változandó. Többet nem mondok. – Veled pedig, Claudio, azt gondoltam, meg fogok
verekedni; de miután olyanformán áll, hogy rokonok leszünk, élj békében, megveretlenül, és
szeresd a húgom asszonyt.
CLAUDIO.
�Már-már reméltem, hogy elhagyod Beátriszt, és én e miatt kipáholhatlak ez egy életből; de
miután páros életre tértél, ismét páratlan ember vagy: csak magad ne hidd páratlannak
magadat, mert akkor a húgomasszony kénytelen lesz szorosan szemmel tartani.
BENCZE.
Pszt, maradjunk jó barátok. – Tánczoljunk egyet az esküvő előtt, hogy megkönnyüljön a
szivünk és a feleségünk czipője.
LEONATO.
Majd tánczolunk azután.
BENCZE.
Előre is, uram: rajta, kezdd rá, zene! – Herczeg, ne búsúljon; szerezzen feleséget: nincs a
világon olyan kedves kormány, mint a papucskormány.
Egy Hirnök jő.
HIRNÖK.
Fölséges úr, öcscsét, Jánost elfogták
És visszahozták fegyverek között.
BENCZE.
Rá se gondoljon reggelig; majd tanácsolok én derék büntetést neki. – Húzd rá, zenész!
(Táncz. Mind el.)
Nyitóoldal
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
<em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em>
Subject
The topic of the resource
A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói
Description
An account of the resource
A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Almási Zsolt
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Almási Zsolt
Language
A language of the resource
magyar és angol
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Könyv
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Sok hűhó semmiért (Arany L., 1886)
Subject
The topic of the resource
Much Ado about Nothing 19. századi magyar fordítása
Description
An account of the resource
Digitális, betűhív átirata Arany László fordításának (1886-os kiadás).
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
William Shakespeare
Arany László
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Magyar Elektronikus Könyvtár
http://mek.oszk.hu/04500/04551/
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Ráth Mór
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1886.
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
pdf
Language
A language of the resource
magyar
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Könyv
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Messina
License
A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource.
Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható.
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Shakspere összes művei. Budapest, Ráth Mór, 1886.
Medium
The material or physical carrier of the resource.
Könyv
Zotero
Author
William Shakespeare
Book Author
William Shakespeare
Translator
Arany László
Artwork Medium
Könyv
Book Title
Sok hűhó semmiért
Date
1886.
Edition
Második javított kiadás
Language
magyar
Medium
Könyv
Place
Budapest
Publisher
Ráth Mór
Magyar Elektronikus Könyvtár
Rights
Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható.
URL
http://mek.oszk.hu/04500/04551/
Genre
Komédia
-
https://msha.btk.ppke.hu/files/original/d910fb4d4edda247877f507bcce4fc51.pdf
377126428a607b3ff333988bc4e2657f
PDF Text
Text
SOK HŰHÓ SEMMIÉRT
Fordította: Mészöly Dezső (1980)
ELSŐ FELVONÁS
1. szín
Leonato háza előtt.
Jön Leonato, Messina kormányzója, Hero, a leánya
és Beatrice, az unokahúga - egy követtel
LEONATO
Úgy értesültem a levélből, hogy Don Pedro, Aragónia hercege, ma este Messinába érkezik!
KÖVET
Már közel járhat. Három mérföldnyire se volt innen, mikor előreküldött.
LEONATO
Hány nemest vesztettetek a csatában?
KÖVET
Alig valakit. Nevezetes személyt, senkit.
LEONATO
Kétszeres a diadal, ha a vezér ép sereggel tér meg. Úgy látom, Don Pedro igen kitüntetett egy
firenzei ifjút, bizonyos Claudiót.
KÖVET
Igen kitüntette, mert igen rászolgált. Derekabbul vitézkedett, mint zsenge kora ígérte: bárány
képében oroszlánként küzdött. Úgy túltett ő minden reményen, hogy énnekem semmi
reményem túltenni rajta szavaimmal.
�LEONATO
Él itt egy nagybátyja Messinában: az megörül ám majd ezen!
KÖVET
Már vittem neki jelentést. Olyan túlcsorduló öröm tört ki belőle, hogy csupa szerénységből is
illett néhány keserűbb cseppet vegyítenie hozzá.
LEONATO
Könnye hullott?
KÖVET
Mint a zápor!
LEONATO
Kedves előttem a túláradó kedvesség. Nincs tisztább a könnyek mosta arcnál. Mennyivel
jobb, aki örömében könnyet ejt, mint aki örvend a más könnyén!
BEATRICE
Mondd, kérlek, signor Handabanda is megjött a háborúból?... vagy nem?
KÖVET
Senkit sem ismerek ezen a néven, hölgyem. Efféle nem is akadt a seregben.
LEONATO
Ki után kérdezősködsz, húgom?
HERO
Kuzinom a padovai úrra gondol, signor Benedettóra.
KÖVET
Á! Ő megjött, és vidámabb, mint valaha.
�BEATRICE
Kiíratta itt Messinában, hogy kihívja Cupidót galamblövő versenyre. Bátyám udvari bolondja
elolvasta a kihívást, és válaszolt neki Cupido nevében, hogy vállalja a versenyt, mert ő bizony
telibe találja a tubicáját. - Mondd csak, hány embert ölt és evett meg Benedetto ebben a
háborúban?... No, hányat ölt meg? Mert én megígértem neki, hogy ahányat csak megöl, azt én
mind megeszem.
LEONATO
Esküszöm, húgom, jól fölmagasztalod ezt a signor Benedettót! De majd megkapod a magadét
te is tőle, semmi kétség!
KÖVET
Jó szolgálatot tett ő ebben a háborúban, kisasszonyom.
BEATRICE
Nyilván kezdett áporodni az élelem, s ő segített fölfalni. Rettenthetetlen hústrancsírozó:
feneketlen a bendője.
KÖVET
De férfi is a talpán, kisasszonyom.
BEATRICE
Ha csak a talpán férfi, akkor a kisasszonyokkal nem sokra megy. Hát a lovagokkal elbánik-e
ez a talpas?
KÖVET
Lovagokkal lovagias, emberekkel emberséges. Ő maga a tömény erény.
BEATRICE
Az ám, ha a tömés - erény. De legalább volna kemény... Jó, jó, mind halandók vagyunk.
LEONATO
�Félre ne értsd húgomat, vitéz. Afféle tréfás háborúsdi folyik közte meg signor Benedetto közt.
Ahányszor csak találkoznak, kezdődik a sziporkapárbaj.
BEATRICE
De jaj neki, mert mindig rajtaveszt. Múltkor is, hogy összecsaptunk, öt petárdája közül négy
csütörtököt mondott, úgyhogy szegény fejének csak egy maradt. Ha az az egy még fellobban,
kapva-kapjon rajta, mert különben ő sem lesz nagyobb lángelme a lovánál. Egyéb sütnivalója
sem maradt azon az egy szem petárdáján kívül. - Ki most a cimborája? Havonta köt új örök
barátságot.
KÖVET
Lehetséges volna?...
BEATRICE
De mennyire! Annyit ér az eskü nála, mint egy kalap: a divat szerint váltogatja.
KÖVET
Úgy látom, kisasszonyom, hogy ez a nemesúr nem szerepel a táncrendeden.
BEATRICE
Tűzre is vetném azt, ha szerepelne rajta! De mondd, ki a barátja? Nem akadt valami kalandor
fickó útitársnak, hogy vele együtt menjen a pokolba?
KÖVET
Legtöbbször a nemes Claudióval tart.
BEATRICE
Úristen! még ráragad, mint valami kórság! Mert ragadósabb ő, mint a pestis. S aki megkapja,
az belébolondul. Isten óvja a nemes Claudiót! Ha egyszer ráragad Benedetto, ezer forintjába
kerül, míg kikúráltatja magát.
KÖVET
Rajta leszek, hogy magamra ne haragítsalak, hölgyem!
�BEATRICE
Jól teszed, barátom.
LEONATO
Te ugyan nem bolondulsz belé, húgom!
BEATRICE
Nem én, míg kánikula nem lesz januárban.
KÖVET
Don Pedro közeleg!
Jön Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedetto, Baltazár és Don Juan, a fattyú
DON PEDRO
Jó signor Leonato, így fogadod a gondot? Mindenki a világon kerülni igyekszik a költséget, te
pedig elébe jössz!
LEONATO
Tefenséged képében nem a gond látogat el házunkba. Mert mikor a gond távozik, öröm marad
a nyomában. De ha majd tefenséged válik meg tőlünk, bánat köszönt be, és az öröm vonul el.
DON PEDRO
Túlontúl készségesen veszi magára terhét tekegyelmed. - Leányod, ha nem tévedek?
LEONATO
Anyja kitartóan mondogatta, hogy az.
BENEDETTO
Kételkedtél benne, uram, hogy rákérdeztél?
�LEONATO
Nem, signor Benedetto - mert tekegyelmed akkoriban még gyermek volt.
DON PEDRO
Ezt megkaptad, Benedetto. Ebből sejthetjük, mire vitted embernyi ember korodban. Meg kell
adni: apja lánya a kisasszony! Örülj neki, kisasszonyom: derék apára ütöttél!
BENEDETTO
Ha signor Leonato az apja, akkor - akárhogy üt is rá - nem cserélne vele fejet egész
Messináért sem!
BEATRICE
Csodálom, hogy még most is jár a szád, signor Benedetto, mikor senki sem figyel rád.
BENEDETTO
Ni csak, a megtestesült utálat - szoknyában! Hát kegyed még él?
BEATRICE
Elhunyhat-e az utálat, mikor olyan tápot kap, mint signor Benedetto? Hisz maga az imádat is
utálatba fordul át uraságod bűvkörében!
BENEDETTO
Úgy látszik, az imádat köpönyegforgató. De annyi bizonyos, hogy - kegyedet kivéve - minden
hölgy szeret. Kívánnám, bár volna a mellemben kő szív helyett hő szív - mert, szavamra,
engem egy se érdekel.
BEATRICE
Jó szerencse ez a nőkre, mert különben folyton nyaggatná őket egy veszett nőbolond. Hála
Istennek - és hideg véremnek -, ebben történetesen megegyezünk. Ha varjút ugat meg a
kutyám, azt is szívesebben hallgatom, mint azt, ha férfi szerelmet vall.
BENEDETTO
�Isten tartsa meg kegyedet ebben a hajlandóságában, mert így legalább egyik-másik úrfi
megmenekül az összekarmolt orca végzetétől.
BEATRICE
A karmolás se csúfíthatná már tovább orcájukat, feltéve, hogy uraságodhoz hasonlítanak.
BENEDETTO
Kiválóan taníthatnád nyelvelni a papagájt.
BEATRICE
Többet ér egy madár az én nyelvemmel, mint egy barom a tiéddel.
BENEDETTO
Bár a paripám volna olyan szilaj és oly kitartó, mint a nyelved! No, Isten hírivel - én
végeztem.
BEATRICE
Farol a paripád - mindig ez a vége. Ismerlek én régről!
DON PEDRO
Ez a summája, signor Leonato! (Megfordul) Signor Claudio - és signor Benedetto! Drága
barátom, Leonato, mindnyájunkat szívesen lát! Mondom neki, hogy legalább egy hónapig itt
állomásozunk. Erre ő azért imádkozik, bár tartana itt bennünket valami véletlen eset még
tovább! S esküdni mernék, nem színből: szívből könyörög.
LEONATO
S ha megesküszöl rá: nem terhel hamis eskü. (Don Juanhoz) Isten hozott téged is, uram; most,
hogy megbékültél bátyáddal, a herceggel - köszöntlek teljes tisztelettel!
DON JUAN
Köszönöm. Nem vagyok a szavak embere, de köszönöm.
LEONATO
�Erre parancsoljon fenséged.
DON PEDRO
Kezed, Leonato! Együtt menjünk!
Mind el, kivéve Benedettót és Claudiót
CLAUDIO
Benedetto! Figyelted signor Leonato lányát?
BENEDETTO
Nem figyeltem, de láttam.
CLAUDIO
Hát nem illedelmes kisasszony?
BENEDETTO
Az együgyű, jámbor véleményem tudakolod - mint afféle tisztességtudó férfiú - vagy azt
akarod, hogy szokásom szerint beszéljek, mint esküdt nőgyűlölő?
CLAUDIO
Nem! Azt akarom, hogy komolyan mondd meg a véleményedet.
BENEDETTO
Nos... szavamra... a magasztos bókra alacsony, a ragyogó bókra sötét, a hatalmas bókra
kicsike. Annyit azért meg kell adni, hogy ha másmilyen volna, mint amilyen, egy csöppet se
volna tetszetős, de mivel olyan, amilyen: úgy tetszik, nem tetszik.
CLAUDIO
Azt hiszed, tréfálok, Kérlek, mondd meg komolyan, hogy milyennek tartod.
BENEDETTO
�Meg akarod venni, hogy így firtatod, mire tartják?
CLAUDIO
Hát meg lehet venni ilyen drága gyöngyöt - akár az egész nagyvilágért?
BENEDETTO
Meg hát - a tokjával együtt, hogy legyen mibe dugni. De komolyan beszélsz, vagy csak úgy
locsogsz, mint amikor a bolond zagyvál, hogy Cupido kocavadász, s Vulcanus az ácsok
gyöngye... Halljam, milyen kulcsra jár az eszed tokja!
CLAUDIO
Ő a legédesebb kisasszony, aki valaha is a szemem elé került!
BENEDETTO
Nekem se kell hozzá még pápaszem, de semmi különöset se látok rajta. Ott a másik, a
kuzinja... ha az nem volna olyan veszett, annyival kívánatosabb volna nála, mint május elseje
december végénél! De remélem, nem akarod nősülésre adni a fejed... vagy igen?
CLAUDIO
Ha nőtlenséget fogadtam volna, akkor sem állnék jót magamért, mihelyt Herót kaphatnám
feleségül!
BENEDETTO
Hát ennyire vagyunk? Hát nem marad már egyetlen sipka alatt se fölszarvazatlan
férfihomlok? És sose találkozom többet hatvanéves legényemberrel? Hát csak rajta, ha
mindenáron igába akarod hajtani a nyakad: viseld el a súlyát, és sóhajtozz vasárnaponként.
Don Pedro ismét a kertbe lép
Ni, Don Pedro keres megint!
DON PEDRO
Hát titeket miféle titok tartott itt, hogy nem jöttetek Leonatóhoz?
�BENEDETTO
Bár kényszeríthetnél, fenség, hogy feleljek!
DON PEDRO
Hűségesküdre - megparancsolom!
BENEDETTO
Hallod ezt, Claudio gróf? Tudok én titkot tartani, mint a néma, elhiheted... De ha a
hűségesküm forog kockán, hallod, a hűségesküm... - Hát szerelmes a fiú! Hogy ki a szerelme,
azt kérded, fenség? Lásd milyen kurta a válasz! Leonato kurta lánya: Hero.
CLAUDIO
Ha úgy van, ki is mondom kereken.
BENEDETTO
Kereken ám, mint a mesemondók, hogy: "Hol volt, hol nem volt, volt egyszer valaha valahol"
- de Isten ments, hogy úgy legyen!
CLAUDIO
Ha a tüzem nem szalmaláng: Isten ments, hogy másképp legyen!
DON PEDRO
Ámen, ha szereted, mert igazán szeretni való kisasszony.
CLAUDIO
Fenség, csak azért mondod, hogy szóra bírj.
DON PEDRO
Szavamra: őszintén.
CLAUDIO
�Hitemre: én szintén őszintén szóltam.
BENEDETTO
Ő szintén s én szintén őszintén - mindkét hitemre és szavamra!
CLAUDIO
Hogy szeretem, érzem.
DON PEDRO
Hogy szeretnivaló, tudom.
BENEDETTO
Én meg se nem érzem, se nem tudom, hogy szeretnivaló - de ez oly mély hitem, hogy a tűz se
olvaszthatja ki belőlem: vallom a máglyán is!
DON PEDRO
Mindig nyakas eretnek voltál: szépségtagadó!
CLAUDIO
És csak megátalkodott nyakasságának köszönheti, hogy sohasem esett ki szerepéből.
BENEDETTO
Hogy egy nőben megfogantam - köszönöm neki; hogy fölnevelt - azt is alázatosan köszönöm;
de hogy nem óhajtok holmi csecsebecséket srófoltatni a homlokomra, s nem vagyok hajlandó
láthatatlan szarvacskákat viselni - ezt minden nő meg fogja bocsátani nekem. Mivel egy nőt
nem akarok megsérteni azzal, hogy kételkedem benne, megkívánom, hogy valamennyi iránt
bizalmatlan lehessek. Összegezem - s leszegezem: legényember maradok.
DON PEDRO
Nem halok meg, míg nem látlak sápadozni a szerelemtől!
BENEDETTO
�Méregtől, kórságtól, éhségtől bármikor, fenség, de szerelemtől soha! Ha rajtakapsz, hogy több
vért vesztek szerelemben, mint amennyit pótolok itallal: szúrd ki a szemem egy balladaköltő
pennájával, s akassz ki cégérnek a vak Cupido helyett a kupi kapujára!
DON PEDRO
Jó, de ha egyszer ezt a fogadalmad megszeged: az lesz ám csak intő példa!
BENEDETTO
Ha úgy esnék: akasszatok ki, mint a zsákba dugott macskát, lőjetek rám célba, s aki eltalál, azt
üssétek lovaggá és mesterlövésszé!
DON PEDRO
Idő kell hozzá. Ahogy a költő mondja: "Idő kell, hogy a bika hámba törjön."
BENEDETTO
A bika tán igen - de hogy a józan Benedetto... Hát ha az egyszer fölveszi a jármot, akkor
csavarjátok ki a bika szarvát, és srófoljátok az én homlokomra! Aztán akár pingáljátok meg a
képemet, s írjátok rá olyan nagy betűkkel, mint a hirdetőtáblára, csak épp nem azt, hogy: "Itt
jó hátasló bérelhető", hanem azt, hogy: "Itt látható Benedetto mint házasember!"
CLAUDIO
Ha így fordul: szarvasmarha leszel!
DON PEDRO
Az ám: ha Cupido el nem lőtte minden nyilát Velencében, megreszkettet még téged is!
BENEDETTO
De akkor abba a föld is belereszket!
DON PEDRO
No, no, ami késik, nem múlik! De addig is, jó signor Benedetto, keresd föl Leonatót, mondd
neki, hogy ajánlom magamat jóindulatába, s ott leszek a vacsoráján, mert tudom, milyen nagy
készülettel vár.
�BENEDETTO
Van annyi eszem, hogy vállaljam a követséget, ajánlom hát fenségedet...
CLAUDIO
..."Isten oltalmába! Kelt saját házamban - ha ugyan van házam..."
DON PEDRO
..."Bolondok ünnepén, Szent Iván napján - szerető barátod: Benedetto."
BENEDETTO
Ne, ne, csak ne csúfolódjatok! Se füle, se farka az ilyen beszédnek! Nem ártana magatokba
szállni, mielőtt ilyen szedett-vedett tréfákkal álltok elő! Megyek innen! (Távozik)
CLAUDIO
Fenség - nagy jót tehetnél most velem.
DON PEDRO
Jóindulatunk éberen figyel:
Nehéz leckét is eltűr, hogy megértse,
Mi módon szolgálhatná javadat.
CLAUDIO
Fenség - van Leonatónak fia?
DON PEDRO
Csak lánya: Hero. Ő az örökös.
Szereted őt, Claudio?
CLAUDIO
Uram,
�Nem régen még, a hadjárat előtt,
Katona módra vettem csak szemügyre:
Tetszett; de más, keményebb próba várt,
S így szerelemmé nem virult a hajlam.
De most, hogy visszatértem, itt belül,
A harci gondok megürült helyén
Halk és finom vágyak zsibonganak,
S azt súgják mind, hogy szép a zsenge Hero,
S azt, hogy - szerettem már a harc előtt is!
DON PEDRO
Mindjárt úgy ömlengsz, mint a sok szerelmes,
Fülünk gyötörve egy kötetnyi szóval!
Ha szereted a szép lányt: udvarold!
Szót értek majd vele, s apjával is:
Tiéd lesz Hero! Vagy nem azt akartad,
Mikor cifrázni kezdted a beszédet?
CLAUDIO
Mily könnyen segít szerelmes bajon,
Ki már jelekből is felismeri!
Féltem, hogy vágyam mohónak találod,
Azért nyújtottam úgy a vallomást.
DON PEDRO
Mért nyúljon a híd tovább, mint a túlpart?
Segélyre legtisztább jogcím: a szükség.
Az illik, ami használ. Vágy emészt?
Nos, akkor én bajodra szerzek írt!
Tudom, hogy itt ma éjjel maszkabál lesz.
�Én majd jelmezben téged játszalak,
S a szép Herónak, mint Claudio,
Nagy lendülettel kiöntöm szivem:
Szerelmes szavak szilaj rohamával
Rabommá teszem hallgató fülét!
Aztán beszélek majd apjával is,
S a vége az lesz, hogy - tiéd a lány.
Most melegében lássunk is neki!
Távoznak
2. szín
Terem Leonato házában.
Jön, kétfelől, Leonato és bátyja, Antonio
LEONATO
Csakhogy látlak, testvér! Hol a fiad, az én kedves öcsém? Ő szerezte ezeket a muzsikusokat?
ANTONIO
Ő hát, s milyen gonddal! De öcsém, olyan újságot tudok, hogy nem is álmodod!
LEONATO
Jó újság?
ANTONIO
Majd elválik, milyen pecsétet üt rá a holnap; de a borítékja mutatós: így kívülről igazán jól
fest. Egy emberem kihallgatta a kertben, a sűrű fasorban a herceget meg Claudio grófot. A
herceg megvallotta Claudiónak, hogy szereti húgocskámat - a lányodat -, s arra készül, hogy
ezt még ma este meg is súgja neki tánc közben... És ha a lány hajlik felé, akkor azon
melegében szót ért veled.
�LEONATO
Értelmes fickó mondta ezt?
ANTONIO
Szemfüles a fickó. Ide hívatom: faggasd ki magad.
LEONATO
Nem, nem. Tekintsük álomnak, míg be nem teljesül. De lányomnak megüzenem a dolgot,
hogy fölkészüljön a válaszra, ha úgy fordul. Menj és mondd el neki!
Antonio távozik, jön fia muzsikusokkal
Atyámfiai, tudjátok a dolgotokat! - Ó, megbocsáss, barátom; jöjj velem: ügyességedre
szükségem lehet. - Csak rajta, öcsém, sürget az idő!
Távoznak
3. szín
Leonato házában, a galérián.
Jön Don Juan és Corrado
CORRADO
Mi ütött beléd, uram? Mért vagy olyan mérhetetlenül komor?
DON JUAN
Mérhetetlen, mennyi okom van rá, azért vagyok határtalanul komor.
CORRADO
�Hallgass, uram, a józan észre.
DON JUAN
S ha arra hallgatok, mi jót hoz?
CORRADO
Ha nem is mindjárt gyógyulást, de legalább türelmet.
DON JUAN
Csodálom, hogy gyilkos mérget erkölcsi prédikációval akarsz kihajtani, hiszen magad is
Saturnus rossz csillaga alatt születtél. Én nem tudok komédiázni. Ha bajom van, komor
vagyok: senki fia tréfáján nem mosolygok. Ha éhes vagyok, eszem, nem várok a többiekre.
Ha álmos vagyok, alszom, nem törődöm a más dolgával. S akkor nevetek, ha kedvem tartja,
nem majmolom senki vidámságát.
CORRADO
Igen, de kár úgy elárulni mindezt, míg nem vagy minden őrszemtől szabad. Hisz bátyád ellen
fölkeltél minap, s nemrég fogadott kegyelmébe vissza. Gyökeret újra itt csak úgy ereszthetsz,
ha magad árasztod a napsütést. S fontos, hogy jól válaszd meg idejét tulajdon aratásodnak,
signor.
DON JUAN
Inkább legyek ragya a lombon, mint rózsa az ő kegyelmében! Jobban esik nekem, ha
mindenki utál, mintha tettetéssel kell kicsalnom bárki szeretetét. Nem mondható, hogy
hízelgő jó ember volnék, de azt senki sem tagadhatja, hogy őszinte gazember vagyok.
Szájkosárral tisztelnek meg, és kolonccal engednek szabadon!... Hát én elhatároztam, hogy
nem énekelek a kalickámban! Ha kinyitnám a szám, harapnék. Ha szabad volnék: élném
világom. De egyelőre hadd legyek, aki vagyok: ne akarj engem kifordítani!
CORRADO
S mérgednek semmi hasznát nem veszed?
DON JUAN
Csak annak veszem hasznát; egyebem sincs.
�Boracchio jön a galérián
Mi hír, Boracchio?
BORACCHIO
Amonnan jövök, a nagy vacsoráról. Leonato felségesen vendégeli bátyádat, a herceg urat.
Még valami házassági tervről is hallottam!
DON JUAN
Nem lehetne a körül valami hálót szőni? Melyik bolond akarja föláldozni a nyugalmát?
BORACCHIO
Nem más, mint a bátyád jobb keze.
DON JUAN
Kicsoda? A nagyszerű Claudio?
BORACCHIO
Ő bizony.
DON JUAN
Az aztán a legény a gáton! S ki a lány? Kin akadt meg a szeme?
BORACCHIO
Szavamra, Herón, Leonato leányán s örökösén!
DON JUAN
Jól fejlett márciusi jérce! S hogy szagoltad ezt ki?
BORACCHIO
�Rám bízták az illatfüstölést. Hát ahogy egy fülledt szobát kezdek illatosítani, egyszer csak jön
ám a herceg Claudióval karonfogva s nagy komolyan beszélgetve. Besurrantam a kárpit
mögé, s hallottam, amint megegyeznek, hogy a herceg megkéri magának Herót, s ha
megkapja, átadja Claudio grófnak.
DON JUAN
Gyerünk, gyerünk oda! Hátha ott jóllakathatom a rossz kedvemet? Ez a fölkapaszkodott ifjonc
az én bukásom árán diadalmaskodik. Ha gáncsot vethetek neki akármiben, az nekem csupa
öröm. Bízhatom a segítségetekben?
CORRADO
Mindhalálig, uram!
DON JUAN
Gyerünk arra a nagy lakomára! Annál inkább vigadnak, mert fölém kerekedtek. Bár a szakács
az én hívem volna! Nos, megyünk, megnézzük, mit tehetünk.
BORACCHIO
Veled tartunk, uram!
Távoznak
MÁSODIK FELVONÁS
1. szín
Leonato házában.
Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaréta,
Ursula és mások jönnek
LEONATO
Don Juan nem volt itt a vacsorán?
�ANTONIO
Nem láttam.
BEATRICE
Micsoda savanyú képe van annak az úrnak! Ha ránézek, még egy óra múlva is ég tőle a
gyomrom.
HERO
Roppant fanyar természet.
BEATRICE
Az volna remek férfi, aki félúton állna meg közte és Benedetto között. Az egyik olyan, mint a
faszent: meg se mukkan. A másik meg folyton csörög, mint a bábaszarka.
LEONATO
Akkor hát Benedetto fele nyelvét Don Juan szájába - és Don Juan fele fanyarságát Benedetto
képére!
BEATRICE
De legyen hozzá jó combja és jó lába is, bátyám - s a zacskójában pénz elég! Ilyen férfi
bármelyik nő fejét eltekeri - feltéve, hogy ért a tekeréshez.
LEONATO
Hitemre, húgom, sohasem kapsz férjet, ha ilyen éles marad a nyelved.
ANTONIO
Meg kell adni, igen hamis!
BEATRICE
"Igen hamis" - ez több, mint hamis. Akkor én végképp elesem Isten adományától. Mert azt
tartja a szólás: "Hamis tehénnek kis szarvat ad az Isten" - de hát akkor az igen hamisnak
semmi szarvat se ad.
�LEONATO
Egyszóval, ha ilyen hamis maradsz, akkor nálad szarvról szó sem lehet.
BEATRICE
Nem hát - míg az Isten férjet nem ad. Ezért az áldásért imádkozom hozzá térden állva reggeleste. Úristen! el nem tudnék viselni egy szakállas pofájú férjet - inkább hálnék szőrpokrócon!
LEONATO
Kaphatsz férjet szakáll nélkül is.
BEATRICE
Azzal meg mit kezdjek? Szoknyát adjak rá, s komornámnak szerződtessem? Akinek szakálla
van, az már nem fiatalember; akinek meg nincs szakálla, az még nem férfi. Aki már nem
fiatalember, az nem való hozzám; aki pedig még nem férfi, ahhoz én nem vagyok való. Azért
hát én inkább majmot hordok a karomon ujjaszopcsi pulya helyett - még a pokolban is!
LEONATO
Hát a pokolba mégy?
BEATRICE
No nem, csak a kapujáig. Ott elébem áll az ördög, mint valami fölszarvazott öreg férj, s azt
mondja: "Menj innen a mennybe, Beatrice, menj a mennybe, lányoknak itt nincs hely!"
Fogom hát a majmom, viszem föl a mennybe Szent Péterhez, az megmutatja, hol ülnek az
agglegények, s ott élünk vidáman, míg a világ világ!
ANTONIO
(Heróhoz)
Jól van, húgom, bízom benne, hogy te majd apádra hallgatsz.
BEATRICE
(Heróhoz)
�Persze, kuzinomnak szent kötelessége, hogy bókot vágjon ki, s azt mondja: "Ahogy neked
tetszik, papa!" De legalább csinos legyen az a fiú, kuzinom! Vagy ha nem, hát vágj ki még
egy bókot, s mondd azt: "Ahogy nekem tetszik, papa!"
LEONATO
Jó, jó, húgom, remélem, meglátlak még férjed karján.
BEATRICE
Azt nem, amíg az Isten jobb anyagból nem gyúrja az embert, mint földből. Hát nem szörnyű
sors a nőnek, hogy egy marék pöffeszkedő por dirigáljon felette? Vagy élete fogytáig egy
hepciáskodó sárcsomóhoz legyen kötve? Nem, bátyám, ebből nem kérek! Ádám fiai
testvéreim, s vérbűn lenne véreimmel házasságra lépni!
LEONATO
(Heróhoz)
Ne feledd, mit mondtam, leányom. Ha a herceg megkérne, tudod, mit kell válaszolnod.
BEATRICE
Mindent a zenére háríts, kuzin, ha nem jókor hangzik el a vallomás. Ha a herceg nagyon
mohó, figyelmeztesd, hogy tartsa a taktust, s táncolva térj ki a válasz elől. Ide figyelj, Hero: az
udvarlás, a házasság, a megbánás sora olyan, mint a bálban a kuferces, a palotás, a kopogós.
Az első vallomás forró, heves, mint a kuferces, csupa vad tombolás; a házasság illedelmes,
mint a palotás, csupa méltóság és hagyomány; aztán eljön a megbánás, mankón, kipegvekopogva egyre gyorsabban, gyorsabban, míg csak a sírba nem bukik.
LEONATO
Igen szúrós szemmel nézed te a világot, húgom.
BEATRICE
Jó szemem van, bátyám: meglátom én napvilágnál, hol vezet az út az oltár felé.
LEONATO
Jönnek a maszkák, bátyám! Csinálj nekik helyet!
�Leonato és társasága álarcot tesz fel. Don Juan, Claudio, Benedetto, Baltazár, Don Pedro,
Boracchio, Margaréta, Ursula és mások jönnek álarcosan
DON PEDRO
Sétálnál egyet hódolóddal, hölgyem?
HERO
Ha finoman lépsz, kedvesen nézel, és egy szót sem szólsz: szívesen sétálok - sőt odébb
sétálok.
DON PEDRO
Velem együtt?
HERO
Úgy is mondhatom, ha tetszik.
DON PEDRO
S mikor tetszik úgy?
HERO
Majd, ha kitetszik a képed; mert Isten ments, hogy olyan legyen a lant, mint a tokja!
DON PEDRO
Olyan a maszkom, mint Philemon kunyhója: Jupiter húzódik meg fedele alatt.
HERO
Akkor szalma...
DON PEDRO
Csitt, halkan, ha szerelemről beszélsz!
�Odébb sétálnak
BORACCHIO
Szeretném, ha szeretnél.
MARGARÉTA
Én nem szeretném - a te érdekedben nem, mert sok rossz rigolyám van.
BORACCHIO
Például?
MARGARÉTA
Hangosan imádkozom.
BORACCHIO
Annál jobban szeretlek. Majd a hívek mondják rá az áment.
MARGARÉTA
Bár adna Isten egy jó táncost!
BORACCHIO
Ámen!
MARGARÉTA
S menne már innen Isten hírével, mihelyt vége a táncnak! Ministránsom, felelj!
BORACCHIO
Egy szót se többet... a ministráns megkapta a magáét.
Odébb sétálnak
�URSULA
Megismerlek ám! Signor Antonio!
ANTONIO
Szavamra: nem!
URSULA
Megismerlek a reszketős fejedről!
ANTONIO
Igaz szavamra: csak utánzom.
URSULA
Nem tudnád ilyen fényesen utánozni az árnyoldalait, ha nem ő maga volnál! Ez az ő aszott
keze... Az vagy, az vagy!
ANTONIO
Szavamra: nem!
URSULA
Ugyan, ugyan, azt hiszed, nem ismertelek föl a ragyogó eszedről? Elrejtheti magát a tehetség?
Hallgass, te vagy az! Átüt a nemesség mindenen - punktum.
Odébb sétálnak
BEATRICE
Nem árulnád el, ki mondta ezt rólam?
BENEDETTO
Azt nem, már megbocsáss...
�BEATRICE
Azt sem árulod el, ki vagy?
BENEDETTO
Most nem.
BEATRICE
Fölényes vagyok?... És a Dekameronból szedegetem a jó mondásaimat?... Hát ezt signor
Benedetto mondta!
BENEDETTO
Az kicsoda?
BEATRICE
Tudom bizonyosan, hogy jól ismered.
BENEDETTO
Én ugyan nem, elhiheted.
BEATRICE
Még sose nevettetett meg?
BENEDETTO
De hát ki az?
BEATRICE
A herceg bohóca! Ócska egy bolond! Egyebet se tud kitalálni, mint képtelen rágalmakat. Csak
holmi korhelyek mulatnak rajta. Nem a szellemessége ragad el, hanem a gorombasága.
Tetszik is, bosszant is. Megnevetik és megvesszőzik. Bizonyos, hogy itt kering valahol... Nem
bánnám, ha nálam kötne ki.
�BENEDETTO
Ha megismerem azt az urat, elárulom neki, mit mondtál.
BEATRICE
Csak rajta, rajta! Majd kivág rólam egy-két hasonlatot - s ha netán rá se hederítenek, meg se
vigyorogják, mindjárt búskomorságba esik: akkor egy fogolyszárny ott marad a tálon, mert a
bolond azeste nem vacsorázik. - Kövessük a táncosokat!
BENEDETTO
...Minden jóban!
BEATRICE
Ha rosszban sántikálnak, faképnél hagyom őket a következő fordulónál.
Tánc. Utána mindenki elvonul a lakomára, kivéve Don Juant, Boracchiót és Claudiót
DON JUAN
(hangosan)
A bátyám nyilván szerelmes Heróba, s azért vonult el a kisasszony apjával, hogy szót értsen
vele. (Halkan) A hölgyek mennek Hero után... Csak egy álarcos maradt itt.
BORACCHIO
Az Claudio! Megismerem a tartásáról.
DON JUAN
Nem te vagy signor Benedetto?
CLAUDIO
Jól mondod: az vagyok.
DON JUAN
�Signor, te közel állsz bátyám szívéhez. Most beleszeretett Heróba. Kérlek, beszéld le róla.
Nem illik ez a lány az ő rangjához. Becsületes, jó szolgálatot tennél ezzel.
CLAUDIO
Honnan tudod, hogy Herót szereti?
DON JUAN
Hallottam, mikor szerelmet vallott neki.
BORACCHIO
Én is hallottam. Megesküdött, hogy nászát üli vele még ma este.
DON JUAN
No, menjünk a vacsorára!
Don Juan és Boracchio távozik
CLAUDIO
Felelgetek nekik, mint Benedetto,
S hallom a vészhírt Claudio fülével...
Magának kérte meg Herót a herceg!
Érvényes a barátság mindenütt Kivéve a szerelmek birodalmát.
Minden szerelmes szóljon maga nyelvén,
És használja a tulajdon szemét:
Ne bízzon másban! Boszorkány a szépség:
Varázsától a hűség vérbe fullad.
Lám, óránként bebizonyul, hogy így van!
Vak voltam. - Ó, Hero, isten veled!
Benedetto visszatér
�BENEDETTO
Claudio gróf?
CLAUDIO
Az vagyok.
BENEDETTO
Jössz velem?
CLAUDIO
Hová?
BENEDETTO
A legközelebbi szomorúfűzfához, grófom - különös tekintettel a te szerelmi bánatodra.
Milyen divat szerint viseled a fűzfakoszorút? Nyakban, mint uzsorás az aranyláncot? Vagy
vállon, mint hadnagy a kardszíjat? Mindenképp megillet a szomorúfűz, mert a herceg lecsapta
a kezedről Herót.
CLAUDIO
Teljék benne öröme!
BENEDETTO
Ezt úgy mondtad, mint egy derék kupec, ha eladta a marhát. - Gondoltad volna, hogy a herceg
így végzi el a baráti szolgálatot?
CLAUDIO
Kérlek, hagyj magamra.
BENEDETTO
No csak! Most meg úgy teszel, mint az egyszeri vak ember. Egy suttyó lopta el a kolbászt, de
te az oszlopot vered érte.
�CLAUDIO
Ha nem mész, majd itt hagylak én. (Távozik)
BENEDETTO
Jaj, szegény sebzett madár! Most bújik a nádasba. - De hogy ez a Beatrice kisasszony rám
ismert meg nem is... Még hogy én volnék a herceg bohóca! Talán azért hívnak így, mert
mindig tréfán jár az eszem. No lám, máris magamban keresem a hibát! Nincs is nekem olyan
rossz reputációm, csak ez a Beatrice az egész világ szájába adja a tulajdon ádáz véleményét, s
veszett hírem költi! No, majd megfizetek érte, ahogy tudok.
Don Pedro, Hero és Leonato visszatér
DON PEDRO
Á, signor! Hol a gróf, nem láttad?
BENEDETTO
Láttam bizony, fenség! Az elébb én voltam a hírmondója. Olyan szomorú volt, mint egy
magányos vityilló a rengeteg közepén. Mondtam neki - s azt hiszem, igazat szóltam -, hogy
fenséged megszerezte attól a kisasszonytól a boldogító igent. Fölajánlottam, hogy elkísérem a
szomorúfűzfáig - akár azért, hogy koszorút fonjon, mint cserbenhagyott szerető, akár azért,
hogy virgácsot kössön, mert rászolgált a vesszőzésre.
DON PEDRO
Vesszőzésre? Hát mit vétett?
BENEDETTO
Csak annyit, mint az iskolás gyerek, aki úgy megörül, mikor madárfészket lel, hogy mindjárt
elfecsegi a pajtásának - mire az maga lopja ki a fiókát.
DON PEDRO
A bizalom nem vétek. A tolvaj a vétkes.
BENEDETTO
�Mégse veszett kárba az a kirándulás a szomorúfűzhöz. A koszorút viselhette volna maga
Claudio; a virgácsot meg átutalhatta volna fenségednek, mert úgy látom, uram, te az ő fészkét
kegyeskedtél kifosztani.
DON PEDRO
Én csak dalolni tanítom a madárfiókát, aztán átadom a tulajdonosának.
BENEDETTO
Ha a dallam majd simul a szövegedhez, akkor becsülettel szóltál.
DON PEDRO
Beatrice kisasszonynak panasza van rád. A táncosától azt hallotta, hogy csúnyán rágalmazod.
BENEDETTO
Ó! Hisz ő bántott meg engem - de úgy ám, hogy azt egy tuskó se bírta volna türelemmel! Egy
leveletlen száraz tölgyfa tönkje is fölérzett volna arra! Még ez a kuka maszk a képemen - ez is
megéledt, s perbe szállt vele! Azt merte mondani rólam - mert nem ismert föl a maszk alatt -,
hogy én a herceg bohóca vagyok, de olyan unalmas, mint a kásás hóolvadás... Egyfolytában
csak énrám nyilazott: úgy álltam ott, mint az eleven céltábla, míg egy egész hadsereg lő rája...
Minden szava gyilok volt és döfött. Ha olyan pusztító volna a lehelete, mint a beszéde: senki,
semmi nem maradna életben előtte - megfertőzne mindent, föl egész a Sarkcsillagig! El nem
venném feleségül, ha akár a Paradicsomkertet jussolna is, mint Ádám a bűnbeesés előtt.
Hiszen ez a lány rabszolgájává tenné magát Herkulest, hogy nyársat forgasson néki, s a
tulajdon bunkóját is tüzelőnek aprítsa föl! Ne is beszéljünk róla! Olyan, mint egy
angyalábrázatú pokolbéli fúria. Adná Isten, hogy valami garabonciás diák visszavarázsolja
oda, mert - szavamra - amíg köztünk van, addig a pokol olyan nyugalmas hely, mint holmi
szentély, s az emberek szántszándékkal vétkeznek, csak hogy elkerüljenek innen az ő
fölkavaró, félelmetes, veszedelmes közeléből!
Claudio és Beatrice visszatér
DON PEDRO
Nézd csak, ott jön!
BENEDETTO
�Nem küldhetne fenséged futárszolgálatban a világ túlsó végére? Indulok én bármilyen kis
megbízatással akár a Sarkvidékre. Szerzek egy szál fogpiszkálót Ázsia legtávolibb zugából.
Mértéket veszek a szerecsen császár lábáról. Hozok egy szálat a nagy tatár kán szakállából.
Vagy elmegyek követségbe a pigmeusokhoz inkább, minthogy csak három szót kelljen
váltanom azzal a hárpiával. Nem parancsolsz semmit, uram?
DON PEDRO
Semmit, csak hogy élvezhessük kedves társaságodat.
BENEDETTO
Teremtőm! itt az a fogás, amitől én megszököm a lakomáról: "Nyelv, kisasszony módra!"
(Távozik)
DON PEDRO
No, a kisasszony elvesztette signor Benedetto szívét!
BEATRICE
Csak kölcsönben van nálam a szíve, adtam is rá kamatot: nem volt nagy a kockázat. De
esküszöm, Benedetto hamisan kockázott, s visszanyerte. Jól mondod hát, fenség, hogy
elvesztettem - úgy kell neki!
DON PEDRO
Jól leterítetted, kisasszony, jól leterítetted!
BEATRICE
Jobb így, mintha ő terített volna le, mert akkor egyhamar bolondok anyja lennék. - Itt hozom
Claudio grófot, akiért fenséged küldött.
DON PEDRO
No csak, grófom, miért vagy olyan bánatos?
CLAUDIO
Nem vagyok én bánatos, uram.
�DON PEDRO
Hanem? Beteg?
CLAUDIO
Az sem, uram.
BEATRICE
A gróf se nem bánatos, se nem beteg, se nem víg, se nem egészséges, csak olyan sárga a
féltékenységtől, mint a savanyú narancs.
DON PEDRO
Találó rajzolat, hitemre! De esküszöm, ha a gróf él a gyanúperrel: téved. - Nos, Claudio, a te
nevedben tettem vallomást: a szép Hero tiéd. Apjával is beszéltem, s elnyertem beleegyezését.
Tűzd ki az esküvő napját - s adjon Isten boldogságot!
LEONATO
Grófom, legyen tiéd a lányom s vagyonom. Őfensége intézte ezt a nászt, s a mennyei fenség
mondja rá az áment.
BEATRICE
Beszélj, grófom, rajtad a sor!
CLAUDIO
Az öröm leghívebb szószólója: a csend. Alig volnék boldog, ha volna rá szavam. Kisasszonyom... amint te az enyém vagy, úgy én is a tiéd. Éretted fölajánlom magamat - s ez
a csere: az üdvösségem.
BEATRICE
Szólalj meg, kuzin, vagy ha nem tudsz: tapaszd be a száját egy csókkal, hogy ő se szólhasson!
DON PEDRO
No lám, kisasszony, mily vidám szíved van!
�BEATRICE
Az ám, uram, mert szegény bolond kereket old a gond elől. - Kuzinom most a grófnak a
fülébe súgja, hogy szívébe zárta!
CLAUDIO
Eltaláltad, rokon!
BEATRICE
Uram Isten, ez beházasodik hozzánk! Lám, mindenki elkél, csak én árulom a petrezselymet.
Kiülhetnék már a sarokra elkiáltani, hogy: "Hejhó! Férjet nekem!"
DON PEDRO
Hallod-e, Beatrice kisasszony, mindjárt előteremtek egy férjet neked is!
BEATRICE
Inkább atyád teremtett volna elő egyet nekem is! Nincs fenségednek ikertestvére? Azt hiszem,
kiváló férjeket nemzett fenséged atyjaura - csak akadjon leány, aki fölér hozzájuk.
DON PEDRO
Elfogadnál engem, kisasszonyom?
BEATRICE
Nem, fenség; csak úgy, ha volna még egy férjem hétköznapra. Fenséged drága volna
mindennapi használatra. - Már megbocsáss, fenség, én arra születtem, hogy tréfálkozzam,
nem arra, hogy bölcselkedjem.
DON PEDRO
Engem csak az bánt, mikor hallgatsz: tehozzád a vidámság illik. Bizonyos, hogy víg órában
születtél.
BEATRICE
�Bizonyos, hogy nem, mert anyám felsikoltott. De erre egy csillag táncra perdült, s az alatt
születtem én. - Sok boldogságot mindkettőtöknek!
LEONATO
Húgom, nem néznél utána annak, amit említettem?
BEATRICE
Engedelmet, bátyám! - Bocsánat, fenség! (Távozik)
DON PEDRO
Jókedvű lány, esküszöm!
LEONATO
Nem sok melankólia szorult belé, uram. Nem komoly ő, csak álmában - de akkor se mindig!
Azt hallom a lányomtól: sokszor álmodik boldogtalanságról, de azon olyan jót nevet, hogy
fölébred rá.
DON PEDRO
Hallani se bírja azt a szót, hogy "férj".
LEONATO
A világért se! Tréfával fojtja belé a vallomást minden udvarlójába.
DON PEDRO
Kiváló feleség lenne Benedetto számára.
LEONATO
Uram Isten! Egy hét alatt az őrületbe kerepelnék egymást.
DON PEDRO
Claudio gróf, mikorra tervezed az esküvőt?
�CLAUDIO
Holnapra, uram. Mankón vánszorog az idő, míg a szerelem meg nem kapta a magáét.
LEONATO
Hétfőig semmiképp, kedves fiam. Addig már csak egy hét: így is rövid lesz az idő, hogy
kedvem szerint rendezzek el mindent.
DON PEDRO
Ej, most csóválod a fejed, hogy ennyit kell várnod; de ígérem, Claudio, nem unod el magad.
Én közben nekigyürkőzöm egy herkulesi munkának: signor Benedettót és Beatrice
kisasszonyt eszeveszetten egymásba bolondítom. Nagyon szeretném összeboronálni őket, s
nem kétlem, hogy sikerül is, ha ti hárman úgy segédkeztek, ahogy rendelem.
LEONATO
Tefenséged szolgálatára állok, ha tíz álmatlan éjszakám megy is rá.
CLAUDIO
Én is, uram.
DON PEDRO
S te is, kedves Hero?
HERO
Minden tisztességes szolgálatra kész vagyok, hogy kuzinomat jó férjhez segítsem.
DON PEDRO
Ahogy én ismerem: Benedetto egy cseppet sem megvetendő férjjelölt. Meg kell adni: nemesi
vér, próbált vitéz, s feddhetetlen jellem. (Heróhoz) Majd kioktatlak, milyen húrokat pendíts
meg kuzinod szívében, hogy beleszeressen Benedettóba. (Leonatóhoz és Claudióhoz) Én meg
majd - kettőtök segítségével - úgy kifogok Benedettón, hogy hiába a gyors esze, hiába a
válogatós gusztusa, csak beleszeret Beatricébe. Ha ezt véghez visszük: Cupido is elbújhat
mellettünk a diadalmas vesszejével: mi leszünk itt szerelemistenek! Jertek velem, kifejtem
tervemet!
�Távoznak
2. szín
Ugyanott. Jön Don Juan ér Boracchio
DON JUAN
Úgy van, Claudio gróf készül elvenni Leonato lányát.
BORACCHIO
Az ám, uram, de én ezt elgáncsolhatom.
DON JUAN
Minden gáncs, minden csapda, minden buktató: valóságos gyógyszer nekem!
Belebetegedtem, úgy utálom! Ami neki kedvét szegi, abban én mind kedvem lelem. Hogy
gáncsolhatnád el ezt a házasságot?
BORACCHIO
Nem egyenes úton, uram - de olyan suttyomban, hogy senki rajta nem kaphat.
DON JUAN
Mondd gyorsan, hogy?
BORACCHIO
Azt hiszem, mondtam már neked, uram, hogy egy év óta igen nagy becsületem van
Margarétánál, a Hero komornájánál.
DON JUAN
Mondtad.
BORACCHIO
�Ha akarom, rá tudom venni, hogy akár éjszaka is a legszokatlanabb órában kinézzen úrnője
ablakán.
DON JUAN
Mi jó néz ki abból, ha kinéz?
BORACCHIO
Az, hogy ők néznek fenekére a méregpohárnak, amit te készítesz. Menj bátyáduradhoz, a
herceghez, s ne átalld azt mondani neki, hogy szégyent hoz a nevére, ha a jó hírű Claudiót, a
te nagyra becsült barátodat, összeházasítja egy olyan elvetemült szukával, mint Hero.
DON JUAN
De lesz-e bizonyítékom erre?
BORACCHIO
Lesz annyi, hogy a herceget elvakítsd, Claudiót megkínozd, Herót tönkretedd, s Leonatót
sírba vidd. Kell ennél több?
DON JUAN
Mindenre kész vagyok, ha megkeseríthetem őket.
BORACCHIO
Akkor menj, uram, s ejtsd módját, hogy Don Pedrót meg Claudio grófot félrevond. Mondd azt
nekik: megtudtad, hogy Hero a szeretőm. Tégy úgy, mintha igen buzgó híve volnál mindkét
úrnak, s erősen féltenéd a herceg becsületét - mert ilyen házasságot szerez; s barátja jó hírét is
- mert ilyen álszüzet akarnak a nyakába varrni. Bizonyíték nélkül persze nem hiszik el, hogy
jó nyomon vagy. De te olyan bizonyítékkal szolgálsz majd, hogy ahhoz nem fér kétség. Ott
fognak engem látni Hero ablakában. Hallani fogják, amint Margarétát Herónak szólítom, ő
meg engem kedvesének becéz. Majd úgy intézem a dolgot, hogy Hero ne legyen a közelben.
Olyan tökéletes lesz a látszat, hogy a gyanút bizonyossággá érleli a féltékeny képzelet; és
azzal - fuccs a lagzinak!
DON JUAN
Akármi förtelem sül ki ebből - belevágok! Csak ügyesen cselezz: ezer dukát üti a markodat!
�BORACCHIO
Csak rágalmazd meg rendületlen a lányt, akkor az én cselemben nem lesz hiba.
DON JUAN
Most megyek, s megtudom, melyik napra tűzték ki a nászt.
Távoznak
3. szín
Kert Leonato háza mellett. Jön Benedetto
BENEDETTO
Hé, fiú!
Egy fiú jön
FIÚ
Parancs!
BENEDETTO
A szobám ablakában találsz egy könyvet: hozd ki nekem a kertbe!
FIÚ
Máris itt vagyok, uram.
BENEDETTO
Azt látom, de bár inkább már oda volnál, s fordulnál vissza.
�A fiú távozik
Nem győzöm csodálni, hogy egy férfi, aki látta, milyen bolond más, mikor kitör rajta a
szerelem - egy férfi, aki maga jót nevetett más bolondériáján -, egyszer csak úgy elveszti a
fejét, hogy egész világ csúfja lesz! Ilyen férfi Claudio. Ismertem én, mikor még hallani sem
akart mást, mint dobszót és kürtöt; most meg lanton és fuvolán mereng. Ismertem, mikor még
tíz mérföldet talpalt volna, csak hogy megnézhessen egy híres-jó páncélt; most meg tíz
éjszaka képes álmatlan heverni, valami újdivatú mellény szabásán töprengve. Megszoktuk,
hogy mindig magvasan és egyszerűen szólt - ahogy katonához és talpig férfihoz illik -, most
meg cifrázza a mondókáját: émelyítő lakoma a beszéde, és minden szava különös nyalánkság.
Kiforgathat, elvakíthat még engem is így valami? Nem tudom... Nem hiszem! Nem mernék
megesküdni rá, hogy a szerelem sohasem bűvöl osztrigává, de arra szavamat adom, hogy
amíg osztrigává nem bűvöl: én nem leszek ilyen hígvelejű! Az egyik nő szép - de én tartom
magam; a másik okos - de én tartom magam; a harmadik erényes - de én tartom magam.
Amíg minden varázs egy nőben nem fonódik össze, addig engem egy nő se fon be! Gazdag
legyen - ez természetes; okos legyen - különben semmi okom szóba állni vele; erkölcsös
legyen - különben nem csábítom el; gyönyörű legyen - különben rá se nézek; szelíd legyen vagy a közelembe se merészkedjen; előkelő legyen - vagy elő se jöjjön! S persze legyen jó
társalgó, jó énekes - és a haja színe olyan, amilyennek Isten teremtette! - Aha! a herceg és
"Monsieur Szerelem!" - Be a bokorba! (Elbújik)
Jön Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio Baltazárral és a muzsikusokkal
DON PEDRO
Nos, meghallgassuk ezt az éneket?
CLAUDIO
Meg, jó uram. Hogy elcsitult az este!
Hallgat, hogy szebben csendüljön a dal.
DON PEDRO
Látod, hogy Benedetto hova bújt?
CLAUDIO
Tisztán, uram. Ha elhallgat az ének,
Előugratjuk lyukából a rókát.
�DON PEDRO
Nos, Baltazár, halljuk megint a dalt!
BALTAZÁR
Jó fenség, rossz hangom ne kényszerítsd,
Hogy szégyent valljon másodszorra is.
DON PEDRO
Jellemző a kiválóságra az,
Hogy tündöklő tökélyét leplezi;
Kérlek, dalolj, és ne kéresd magad!
BALTAZÁR
Meglesz az ének, mert fenség a kérő.
De hisz sok kérő kér meg így leányt is:
Nem sokra tartja, mégis vall neki,
Ha kedve tartja.
DON PEDRO
Rajta, rajta, kezdd el!
Zenével érvelj most! Elő a lantot:
A húrba kapj!
BALTAZÁR
Az alkalmon kapok,
Hogy húrba kapjak, bár dalom - csekélység.
DON PEDRO
Fecseg-locsog, mint akit elkapattak.
�Kapós zenész, de szószátyár - szavamra!
Baltazár játszani kezd
BENEDETTO
Isteni dallam! Micsoda révületben ring a lelke! Hát nem csodálatos, hogy pár szál birkabél így
kiragadja a lelket az emberi testből? - No én inkább tülköst fogadnék: az szokta elfújni a nóta
végét!
BALTAZÁR
(énekel)
Kisasszonyok, ne sírjatok!
A férfi mind kalandor,
Fél lába itt, fél lába ott,
Csak gondtalan csatangol.
Ne sírj, leány,
A férfiért,
Légy hetyke, fürge, pörge,
Csak vállat vonj, ha bánat ért Hej, táncra, körbe-körbe!
Ne nyújtsd a jajt, ne nyögd a bajt,
Ha kínja olykor elfog!
Míg nyár virít, míg lomb kihajt,
A férfi úgyse lesz jobb.
Ne sírj, leány,
A férfiért,
Légy hetyke, fürge, pörge,
Csak vállat vonj, ha bánat ért Hej, táncra, körbe-körbe!
�DON PEDRO
Jó dal, hitemre!
BALTAZÁR
És rossz énekes, uram.
DON PEDRO
Ugyan, ugyan! Épp elég jól énekelsz, ha mondom.
BENEDETTO
(félre)
Ha kutya vonítana így, fölhúznák érte. Adja isten, hogy ez az átkozott hang valami vészt ne
hozzon ránk! Még az éjszakai hollókárogást is szívesebben hallgatom - akármilyen csapást
jövendöl.
DON PEDRO
Most jut eszembe - hallod, Baltazár, kérlek, szerezz nekünk valami kitűnő zenét! Holnap éjjel
Hero kisasszony ablaka alatt szeretnénk eljátszani.
BALTAZÁR
Ami tőlem telik, uram...
DON PEDRO
Helyes, isten veled!
Baltazár távozik
Jöjj csak, Leonato! Mit is mondtál ma reggel?... Hát a húgocskád, Beatrice; csakugyan
szerelmes signor Benedettóba?
CLAUDIO
�Igen, igen! (Félre, Don Pedrónak) Cserkészd be! Ott lapul a madár! (Hangosan) Sose hittem
volna, hogy ez a lány férfiembert megszerethet.
LEONATO
Nem ám, én sem! De a legcsodálatosabb az hogy épp signor Benedettóba habarodott bele,
akitől látszólag mindig borzadt.
BENEDETTO
(félre)
Lehetséges?... Hát innen fúj a szél?...
LEONATO
Szavamra, fenség, nem is tudom, mit gondoljak... Olyan eszeveszetten szereti az a lány, hogy
az már hihetetlen.
DON PEDRO
Talán csak megjátssza?
CLAUDIO
Akkor jól játssza, esküszöm.
LEONATO
Uram Isten! Megjátssza? Hát akkor soha még megjátszott szenvedély nem hasonlított ennyire
a valódihoz.
DON PEDRO
De hát mi jele nála a szenvedélynek?
CLAUDIO
(félre)
Jó csalit a horogra! Mindjárt beleharap a hal!
�LEONATO
Hogy mi jele, uram? Hát az, ahogy ül... (Claudióhoz) Hallottad lányomtól, hogyan!
CLAUDIO
Hallottam, hogyne!
DON PEDRO
Hogyan, hogyan, kérlek? Megdöbbentesz! Azt hittem, az ő szellemét soha ki nem kezdi
semmi szenvedély.
LEONATO
Megesküdtem volna rá én is, uram. Kivált, hogy Benedetto iránt...
BENEDETTO
(félre)
Ha nem ez a fehér szakállú öreg mondaná, azt hinném, valami ugratás. De lehetetlen, hogy
léhaság lappangjon ily tiszteletre méltó ábrázat mögött.
CLAUDIO
(félre)
Már pedzi a csalit! Csak így tovább!
DON PEDRO
S elárulta valamiképp Benedettónak, hogy mit érez?
LEONATO
Nem! S esküszik, hogy nem is fogja soha! Épp ez emészti.
CLAUDIO
Úgy van! Leányodtól is azt hallom, hogy Beatrice fölsóhajtott: "Én írjam meg neki, hogy
szeretem - én, aki annyiszor gúnyoltam?"
�LEONATO
Ezt hajtogatja mostanában, ahányszor csak nekiül az írásnak... mert egy éjszaka hússzor is
fölkel, s ott kuporog egy szál ingben, míg csak tele nem körmöl egy lepedőnyi papirost. A
lányom mindent elmond.
CLAUDIO
Most, hogy a lepedőnyi papirost említed, eszembe jut egy jó mondás - leányod említette ezt
is...
LEONATO
Az ám, múltkor, hogy teleírja Beatrice azt a nagy lepedőt, s még egyszer átolvassa, azt
susogja: "Benedetto és Beatrice - egy lepedőn!"
CLAUDIO
Ez az!
LEONATO
Csakhogy aztán összetépte a levelet ezernyi kis cafatra, s átkozta magát, hogy miért is írt ilyen
szemérmetlenül - épp annak, aki majd nyilván kicsúfolja! - "Magamról ítélek - mondja
Beatrice -, én is kicsúfolnám, ha írna nekem, ki én, pedig hogy szeretem!"
CLAUDIO
Aztán térdre hull, sír, zokog, mellét veri, haját tépi, könyörög, jajveszékel: "Ó, édes
Benedetto! Úristen, adj türelmet!"
LEONATO
Igen, így őrjöng - a lányom is mondja. Már úgy eszét vesztette, hogy Hero néha attól fél, kárt
tesz magában... Szent igaz, hogy így van!
DON PEDRO
Jó volna, ha Benedetto megtudná ezt valakitől - ha már Beatrice nem mer szólni.
CLAUDIO
�Mi értelme volna? Csak kigúnyolná, és még jobban megkínozná szegény kislányt.
DON PEDRO
No, ha azt merné, kötelet érdemelne! - Micsoda édes, drága lány! És olyan tiszta, mint a
patyolat!
CLAUDIO
S milyen eszes!
DON PEDRO
Csak abban nem, hogy épp Benedettót szereti.
LEONATO
Bizony, uram, ha a vér az ésszel harcra kel ilyen zsenge kis testben: tízet egy ellen, hogy a vér
győz! Nagyon sajnálom a kislányt - minden okom megvan rá, hisz bátyja is, gyámja is
vagyok!
DON PEDRO
Bár énértem rajongna így! Én ugyan nem törődném semmi mással - rögtön feleségül venném!
Kérlek, beszéljetek Benedettóval! Lássuk, mit szól a dologhoz?!
LEONATO
Jól tenném, azt hiszed?
CLAUDIO
Hero szerint: ez a biztos halál Beatricének. Mert az szegény azt mondja: belehal, ha Benedetto
nem szereti, de inkább meghal, semhogy elárulja neki szerelmét. De még ha megkérné is a
kezét: ő inkább választaná a halált, mint hogy csak egy mákszemnyit is engedjen a
büszkeségéből.
DON PEDRO
Igaza van! Ha szerelmet vallana neki: Benedetto alighanem kinevetné - hisz tudjátok, milyen
pökhendi.
�CLAUDIO
De legény a talpán!
DON PEDRO
No, igen, szemre elég mutatós.
CLAUDIO
És - Isten a tanúm - roppant eszes!
DON PEDRO
No igen, föl-fölszikrázik benne valami... szellemféle.
CLAUDIO
S állítom, hogy bátor is.
DON PEDRO
Hektornál Hektorabb, szavamra! S ha valami patvarkodás fenyeget, jól mondod, maga a
szelíd józan ész! Vagy elkerüli kellő tapintattal, vagy istenfélő keresztyén módjára tűri.
LEONATO
Ha istenfélő, akkor persze béketűrő. És ha mégse tűri a békét: hogyne félne és remegne?
DON PEDRO
Úgy is tesz, mert istenfélő ám, ha nem gondolná is az ember egyik-másik vaskos tréfája
után... Bizony, sajnálom a húgocskádat! No, megkeressük Benedettót, eláruljuk neki, hogy
beleszeretett a kislány?
CLAUDIO
Csak azt ne, uram! Inkább jó tanácsokkal segítsünk Beatricének, hogy kitépje szívéből ezt az
érzést.
�LEONATO
Hiába. Előbb tépi ki az a lány a tulajdon szívét.
DON PEDRO
No, majd hallunk még erről többet is a lányodtól. Hadd csillapodjék közben a dolog. Szeretem
Benedettót: örülnék, ha magába szállna, s belátná, hogy mennyire méltatlan ilyen remek
lányra.
LEONATO
Indulhatunk, uram, ha parancsolod: vár a vacsora.
CLAUDIO
(félre)
Ha ettől bele nem habarodik, akkor semmitől!
DON PEDRO
(halkan)
Ugyanilyen hálót kell vetni Beatricének is! A lányod meg a komornája elintézhetne. Az lesz a
jó mulatság, ha mind a kettő szentül hiszi, hogy a másik bolondul érte - s közben sehol
semmi! Ezt a komédiát szeretném látni! Micsoda cirkusz lesz! - Küldjük ide Beatricét, hogy
hívja asztalhoz barátunkat!
Don Pedro, Claudio, Leonato távozik
BENEDETTO
(előjön a lugasból)
Ez nem lehet beugratás. Komolyan folyt az egész tanácskozás, Heróra hivatkoznak - ez is
bizonyíték. Látszik, hogy megesett a szívük Beatricén. Szegénykét alighanem elragadta a
szenvedély, Szerelmes belém! Ezt viszonozni kell! Csak füleltem, amint kárpálnak... Azt
mondják, én majd pöffeszkedem, ha megtudom, hogy az a lány belém szeretett! Azt mondják,
hogy Beatrice inkább meghal, mint hogy kimutassa, mit érez... Sohasem gondoltam a
házasságra. De ne lássanak pöffeszkedőnek! Örüljön az ember, ha fülébe jut, hogy mi a
hibája, s jóváteheti. Azt mondják, szép a lány. Ez igaz, ezt én is tanúsíthatom. És jó erkölcsű.
Úgy van, ezt sem cáfolom. Eszes is - csak abban nem, hogy épp engem szeret. Igaz, hogy ez
nem vall bölcsességre, de bolondságra se, mert fergetegesen bele fogok szeretni! Nyilván
�fejemhez vágnak majd egy-két sületlen tréfát, ócska szellemességet, merthogy eddig
lefitymáltam a házasságot... De hát az ízlés tán nem változik? Az ember fiatalon odavan egy
ételért - aztán idősebb korában rá se tud nézni. Hát holmi sziporkák, szentenciák,
papirosböcsességek letérítsenek egy férfit a tulajdon pályájáról? Nem! Be kell népesíteni a
földet! Amikor azt mondtam, hogy agglegényként halok meg, még nem tudtam, hogy
megérem a házasságom napját.
Beatrice közeleg
Beatrice! A napvilágra mondom: szép kisasszony! Szerelem jeleit szimatolom rajta!
BEATRICE
Kedvem ellenére ide küldtek, hogy vacsorázni hívjalak, signor.
BENEDETTO
Szép Beatrice, köszönöm fáradozásodat.
BEATRICE
Nem fáradtam többet ezért a köszönetért, mint te azzal, hogy kimondtad. Ha fáradságomba
kerül, ide se jövök.
BENEDETTO
Tehát örömöd telt a küldetésben.
BEATRICE
Egy késhegynyi - amennyivel megfújthatsz egy csókát. Látom, signor, nincs étvágyad - áldjon
ég! (Távozik)
BENEDETTO
Aha! "Kedvem ellenére ide küldtek, hogy vacsorázni hívjalak" - ebben kettős értelem rejlik!
"Nem fáradtam többet ezért a köszönetért mint te azzal, hogy kimondtad" - ez annyi, mintha
azt mondaná: teérted minden fáradozás olyan könnyű, mint egy köszönet. Gazember vagyok,
ha meg nem sajnálom! Pogány vagyok, ha meg nem szeretem! Megyek, megszerzem az
arcképét! (Elsiet)
�HARMADIK FELVONÁS
1. szín
A kertben. Jön Hero, Margaréta és Ursula
HERO
Jó Margaréta, fuss csak a szobába:
Ott benn leled Beatricét, amint
Beszél a herceggel s Claudióval...
Súgd a fülébe, hogy mi Ursulával
A kertben egyre-másra emlegetjük...
Mondd, hogy kihallgattál, s vedd rá, hogy ő is
Lapuljon meg a lugas bokra közt,
Ott, hol a napon érett sűrü lonc
Kizárja a napot, mint nagyranőtt
Kegyenc, ki képes tápláló urát
Kitúrni... Ott lessen Beatricénk
És hallgatózzon! Ez a megbizásod:
Végezd el fürgén, s hagyj magunkra, kérlek!
MARGARÉTA
Azonnal ideküldöm, ezt igérem! (Elsiet)
HERO
Nos, Ursula, ha Beatrice jön,
Mi föl-le járunk a lugas során,
S egyetlenegy témánk lesz: Benedetto!
�Ha csak kiejtem a nevét, dicsérd úgy,
Ahogy még ember meg nem érdemelte.
Én újságolom majd, hogy Benedetto
Beatricéért lángban ég. Olyan
Fortélyos a kis Cupido nyila,
Hogy fülön át - sziven talál!
Beatrice hátul jön
Gyerünk!
Nézd, Beatrice surran, mint a bíbic:
A földre kushad, úgy fülel szavunkra!
URSULA
Így jó halászni: nézni, hogy halunk
Arany uszonnyal szánt ezüst habot,
S ravasz csalira boldogan harap!
Beatricére most vessük ki horgunk,
Amíg a sűrü rejtekén lopakszik!
Percig se aggódj: szerepem tudom.
HERO
Közel huzódjunk hozzá, hogy fülével
Finom csalinkból semmit el ne vesszen!
Közelebb húzódnak a bozóthoz
Nem, Ursulám, nagyon kevély leány ő,
Jól ismerem: vad és szilaj szivű,
Akár a szirti sólyom.
�URSULA
S Benedetto
Beatricébe csakugyan szerelmes?
HERO
A herceg mondja, s vőlegényem is.
URSULA
S kérték, hogy erről szólj Beatricének?
HERO
Kértek, hogy közbejárjak. Azt feleltem:
Ha Benedettónak barátai,
Beszéljék rá, hogy küzdjön vágya ellen,
S Beatricének semmiképp se szóljon.
URSULA
S mért mondtad ezt? Hát az a jó nemes
Tán nem méltó a boldogságos ágyra,
Amin Beatricénk nyugtatja testét?
HERO
Ó, Ámor isten! Hogyne volna méltó!
Jobban megérdemelné bárkinél.
De nem termett még keményebb dió
A mi vadóc Beatricénk szivénél.
Gúny és kevélység szikrázik szemében:
Mindent lenéz, amerre néz. Feszít
Saját eszével, s bárki mást lefitymál.
�Szeretni nem tud, sőt még arra sem
Képes, hogy érzést jó szívvel fogadjon:
Csak önmagát imádja.
URSULA
Úgy van, úgy!
Az úrfi vágyát jobb, ha meg se tudja:
Csak gúnyolódna rajta, annyi szent.
HERO
Jól mondod ezt, mert nincs oly férfiember
- Bármíly nemes, tudós, ifjú, kiváló -,
Akit ki nem csufol... Ha szőke fürtű,
Azt mondja: inkább húgává fogadná;
Ha barna: azt, hogy Természet-anyánk
Pojácát pingált, s ejtett egy pacát.
A szálas néki égimeszelő;
Az apró meg csak kimustrált dugó;
A jó társalgó: pörge szélkelep;
A hallgatag meg: nehézkes fatuskó.
Így minden jót a visszájára fordít;
Nem tisztel semmi virtust, érdemet.
URSULA
Ilyen csipősség nem ajánlatos.
HERO
Nem, nem ajánlatos egy lány, ha oly
Makacs, makrancos, mint Beatrice.
De ki mer szólni néki? Hisz ha szólnék,
�Gúnnyal nyilazna, tréfával ledöfne,
S kacagna, míg belé nem pusztulok.
Eméssze hát meg lángja Benedettót,
És sóhajokban füstölögjön el:
Jobb halni bútól, mint gúnytól sebezve...
Nincs rosszabb, mint ha csiklandással ölnek!
URSULA
Beatricének kéne szólni mégis.
HERO
Nem, inkább Benedettóhoz megyek,
S tanácsolom, hogy lángját fojtsa el.
Sőt holmi kis rágalmat kitalálok,
Hogy kuzinomtól kedvét elvegyem.
Nem is hinnéd, egy rossz szó míly hatásos!
URSULA
Jaj, ezzel mégse bántsd meg kuzinod!
Amilyen ritka jó eszű leány,
Nem fog talán meggondolatlanul
Kikosarazni egy ilyen kiváló
Nemes vitézt, mint signor Benedetto!
HERO
Az első férfi ő Itáliában Kivéve persze drága Claudiómat!
URSULA
Már meg ne haragudj, kisasszonyom,
�Kimondom, hogy egész Itáliában
Tartásra, észre, jó vitézi hírre
Signor Benedettónak párja nincs.
HERO
Valóban, jó nevének híre van.
URSULA
S ő rászolgált, mielőtt híre kelt! Kisasszonyom, mikor is esküszöl?
HERO
Hát holnap reggel! Jöjj csak, jöjj velem:
Majd megnézed ruháim, s adsz tanácsot,
Melyik való leginkább esküvőre!
URSULA
(halkan)
Már lépre ment! Megvan, kisasszonyom!
HERO
Ha megvan: Ámoré a diadal.
Kit nyíllal ejt el, kit csapdába csal.
Hero és Ursula távozik, Beatrice előlép
BEATRICE
Lehetséges ez? - Jaj, fülem hogy ég! Vadság, kevélység szárad lelkemen?...
Pokolra gőg és szűzi büszkeség,
�Zászlótok alatt nem vár győzelem!
Jöjj, Benedetto, szerelmem tied!
Szilaj szivem kezessé szoktatom.
Ha te szeretsz, én kedvesed leszek:
Szent lánc köt össze majd egy szép napon.
Méltó vagy rája, mondják - s én magam
Hitet teszek szavukra boldogan! (El)
2. szín
Leonato házában.
Jön Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedetto és Leonato
DON PEDRO
Kivárom, míg meglesz az esküvőd, azután indulok Aragóniába.
CLAUDIO
Elkísérlek én is, uram, ha megengeded.
DON PEDRO
Nem, nem, attól házasságod kelő napja mindjárt felhőbe is borulna: mintha egy gyermeknek
megmutatnák új ruháját, de megtiltanák, hogy fölvegye! Csak Benedettót merném kérni, hogy
velem tartson, mert ő aztán tetőtől talpig csupa jókedv. Kétszer-háromszor is elvágta már
Cupido íjján a húrt, úgy, hogy az a kis gazember őrá már nem mer nyilazni. Olyan érces a
szíve, mint a harang, s a nyelve - valóságos harangnyelv. Ami a szívében lakik, azt hirdeti a
nyelve is.
BENEDETTO
Uraim, nem vagyok én már a régi.
LEONATO
�Én is azt mondom. Úgy látom, megkomolyodtál.
CLAUDIO
Remélem, szerelmes.
DON PEDRO
Ördög vinné a mihasznát! Nincs őbenne egy csöpp jó vér se: nem fog rajta a szerelem. Ha
búsul: csak az a baja, hogy üres a zsebe.
BENEDETTO
A fogam fáj.
DON PEDRO
Húzasd ki!
BENEDETTO
Inkább felkötni kell, ha fáj.
CLAUDIO
Vagy inkább téged felkötni, hogy ne fájjon.
DON PEDRO
Eh, hogy lehet sóhajtozni holmi fogfájás miatt!
LEONATO
Egy kis dagadtság, egy kis szuvasság - mi az?
BENEDETTO
Persze, férfiasan elviseljük a fájdalmat - míg más érzi.
CLAUDIO
�Azt mondom, mégiscsak szerelmes!
DON PEDRO
Semmi jele rajta efféle hóbortnak... legföljebb divathóbortnak. Ma hollandusnak öltözik,
holnap franciának... Vagy két országnak egyszerre hódol: övön alul német - csupa merő
bugyogó -, övön felül spanyol - mellényt a világért se hord! Bolondságok szerelmese, de nem
szerelem bolondja - ahogy ti hiszitek.
CLAUDIO
Ha ez nem habarodott bele valami nőbe - akkor én többet nem hiszek áruló jeleknek. Minden
reggel megkeféli a kalapját - mit jelent ez?
DON PEDRO
Látta valaki a borbélynál?
CLAUDIO
Nem, de a borbély legényét látta valaki nála. Orcájának bozontos díszével azóta már labdát
tömnek.
LEONATO
Szavamra, így szakáll nélkül fiatalabbnak látszik.
DON PEDRO
Pézsmával is keni magát. Nem szimatolsz ebből valamit?
CLAUDIO
Csak azt, hogy a bódító ifjú - szerelmes.
DON PEDRO
Legfőbb jele ennek - a melankólia.
CLAUDIO
�Hát az orca-kence... az mikor volt szokása?
DON PEDRO
Meg az arcfestés! Hallom, mit suttognak erről.
CLAUDIO
S mivé lett játszi szelleme? Mint a lant húrja, ha megereszkedik.
DON PEDRO
Igen, ezek baljós jelek - mondd ki, mondd ki, hogy szerelmes!
CLAUDIO
Én azt is tudom, ki szerelmes őbele.
DON PEDRO
Azt én is szeretném tudni. Fogadni mernék, olyan nő, aki nem ismeri.
CLAUDIO
De ismeri, minden hibájával együtt - mégis meghal érte.
DON PEDRO
Akkor azt vagy kiterítik, vagy leterítik.
BENEDETTO
A fogfájáson mindez nem segít. Bátyámuram, sétáljunk erre el. Nyolc-tíz okos szó van a
nyelvemen - de csak neked tartogatom. Semmi szükség rá, hogy ezek a szélkelepek hallják!
Benedetto és Leonato elsétál
DON PEDRO
Akármi legyek, ha nem Beatricéről akar szót érteni!
�CLAUDIO
Hát persze! Amióta Hero meg Margaréta is eljátszotta azt a kis jelenetet Beatricének... Most
már a két medve nem ugrik egymásnak, ha valahol összeakad.
Jön Don Juan
DON JUAN
Jó egészséget, bátyám és uram!
DON PEDRO
Neked is, öcsém!
DON JUAN
Ha volna időd, beszélni szeretnék veled.
DON PEDRO
Bizalmasan?
DON JUAN
Úgy, ha megengeded... Különben Claudio gróf is hallhatja: őt illeti, amit mondani akarok.
CLAUDIO
Miről van szó?
DON JUAN
(Claudióhoz)
Te holnap készülsz megesküdni, grófom?
DON PEDRO
Hiszen tudod.
�DON JUAN
Nem akarom tudni, ha ő is tudja, amit én tudok.
CLAUDIO
Ha valami akadálya van: ki vele, kérlek!
DON JUAN
Talán azt hiszed, hogy nem szeretlek - de ez majd később derül ki. S úgy lehet, jobb
emberednek tartasz majd azután, amit most fölfedek. Ami bátyámat illeti: meggyőződésem,
hogy jóindulattal van irántad, és tiszta szívből igyekezett egyengetni tervezett házasságodat.
Eszeveszett terv és kárba veszett igyekezet.
DON PEDRO
De hát mi a baj?
DON JUAN
Azért jöttem, hogy megmondjam. Rövidre foghatom - épp azért, mert hosszú ideje tartja már
magát a szóbeszéd. A hölgy hűtlen.
CLAUDIO
Ki? Hero?
DON JUAN
Ő. Leonato Herója, a te Heród, mindenki Herója.
CLAUDIO
Hűtlen?
DON JUAN
Ez enyhe kifejezés a romlottságára. Mondhatom, ő maga durvább, sőt... gondolj valami
borsosabb szóra: könnyen meggyőzlek, hogy az találóbb. Csak ne ámuldozz, mert
bizonyítékkal szolgálok. Tarts velem ma este: meglátod, hogy az esküvője előtti éjszakán is
�ki-be járnak az ablakán. Aztán, ha továbbra is szereted, hát csak vedd el holnap. De a
becsületedhez jobban illenék, ha meggondolnád magad.
CLAUDIO
Lehetséges ez?
DON PEDRO
Nem akarom elhinni.
DON JUAN
Ha nem mersz hinni a szemednek, hát ne valld be, mit tudtál meg. Én mutatok épp eleget!
Majd ha láttatok, hallottatok mindent: cselekedjetek aszerint.
CLAUDIO
Ha bármit látok ma éjjel, amitől vissza kell lépnem: holnap ott, a násznép előtt, esküvés helyett - megszégyenítem!
DON PEDRO
Én meg ahogy helytálltam érted a leánykérésben: veled tartok a megszégyenítésben is!
DON JUAN
Nem akarom tovább vádolni, míg ti magatok nem lesztek tanúim. Csak éjfélig várjatok
hidegvérrel: akkor feltárul minden magától.
DON PEDRO
Baljós napfordulás!
CLAUDIO
Szörnyű orvtámadás!
DON JUAN
Kivédett sorscsapás! - Ezt mondjátok majd ti is, ha meglátjátok, mi következik!
�Mind el
3. szín
Utca. Lasponya, Furkó és őrök jönnek
LASPONYA
(az őröknek)
Derék s igaz emberek vagytok-e?
FURKÓ
Azok hát! Különben siralmas sorsra jutna testük-lelkük: örök üdvösségre.
LASPONYA
No nem, az nagyon is enyhe büntetés volna az elharapódzott korrekcióra - kivált a herceg úr
őrségében!
FURKÓ
Helyes, Lasponya szomszéd, csak szabd ki nekik a reglamát!
LASPONYA
Először is: melyik köztetek a legindolensebb a rendőri szolgálatra?
ELSŐ ŐR
Leginkább Pogácsa meg Tufa, merthogy ők írni-olvasni is tudnak, uram.
LASPONYA
Gyere csak, Tufa szomszéd! Finom névvel áldott meg az Isten. Az előkelő ábrázat a jó
szerencse ajándéka, de az írás-olvasás, az velünk születik!
�MÁSODIK ŐR
Strázsamester uram, mind a kettő...
LASPONYA
Mind a kettő megvan benned - tudom, hogy ezt akartad kibökni. No, ábrázatodért adj hálát
Istennek - de jobb, ha nem dicsekszel vele. Az írás-olvasást pedig csak akkor fitogtasd,
amikor nem szükségeltetik efféle fényűzés. Az a híred, hogy te vagy itt a legindolensebb a
rendőri szolgálatra: azért hát tartsd te a lámpást. Az a tiszted, hogy minden kétes személyt
betakaríts. A herceg úr nevében akárki emberfiát megállíthatol.
MÁSODIK ŐR
De hátha nem áll meg?
LASPONYA
Ej, hát akkor ne figyelmezz rá, hanem ereszd útjára: ellenben hívd össze rögvest az egész
őrséget - s adjatok mind hálát az Istennek, hogy megszabadított egy gazembertől.
FURKÓ
Ha nem áll meg, amikor ráparancsolunk, akkor nem is lehet a herceg alattvalója!
LASPONYA
Szent igaz! Márpedig őnékik semmi dolguk mással, csakis a herceg úr alattvalóival. Aztán
valami lármát ne csapjatok az utcán, mert az őrség számára mindennemű fecsegés-locsogás
szigorúan kommendáltatik, és vétó terhe alatt legális.
MÁSODIK ŐR
Leginkább majd szunyókálunk, nem fecsegünk - tudjuk mi, hogy mi az őrszem tiszte!
LASPONYA
Lám csak, úgy beszélsz, ahogyan sokat látott, megfontolt bakterhez illik. Mert hát miért is
volna a szunyókálás vétek? Csak arra ügyeljetek, hogy el ne lopja valaki az alabárdotokat!
No, járjátok végig a kocsmákat, és utasítsatok minden részeget, hogy - bújjon ágyba.
�MÁSODIK ŐR
De hátha nem akaródzik nekik?
LASPONYA
Ej, hát akkor hagyjátok ott őket, míg ki nem józanodnak. Aztán, ha akkor se kaptok tőlük jó
szót, hát mondjátok, hogy nem is őket kerestétek, tévedés történt.
MÁSODIK ŐR
Igenis, uram.
LASPONYA
Ha tolvajjal találkoztok: hivatali hatalmatoknál fogva gyanakodhattok rája, hogy nem
tisztességes férfiú. S az ilyennel minél kevesebbet törődtök, bajlódtok: annál nagyobb
böcsületet vallotok.
MÁSODIK ŐR
De ha tudjuk, hogy tolvaj, nem kell őtet lefogni?
LASPONYA
Igaz, ami igaz: hivatalból megtehetitek; de én azt mondom: aki szurokba nyúl, szurtos lesz az!
Ha tolvajt fogtok, a legbékésebb eljárás: kilesni, míg megmutatkozik a lopós természete, s
ellopakodik a kompániátokból.
FURKÓ
Tégedet, kolléga, mindig is könyörületes embernek ismertünk.
LASPONYA
Igaz, ami igaz: én egy kutyát se kötnék föl a magam jószántából - akkor már inkább egy
embert, kivált, ha néminemű eminencia bizonyulna rája.
FURKÓ
Ha azt halljátok, hogy valahol csecsszopó rí éjtszaka: híjjátok elő a dajkáját, s parancsoljatok
rá, hogy csitítsa el.
�MÁSODIK ŐR
De hátha a dajka alszik, s nem hallja, hogy ráparancsolunk?
LASPONYA
Hát akkor csak vonuljatok el csendességgel: hadd ocsúdjék föl a pulya sírására! Mert amelyik
juh nem hallja meg a bárány bőgését, az a bornyúbégetésre se neszel föl.
FURKÓ
Szent igaz.
LASPONYA
Eddig tartott az utasítás. A rend őre vagy: herceg urunk tulajdon személyit repercentálod. Ha
szembetalálkozol éjtszaka a herceggel, őtet is megállíthatod.
FURKÓ
Nem, a Szűzmáriáját, aztat talán mégse!
LASPONYA
Öt tallért egy ellen - akármelyik törvénytudó személy előtt -, hogy igenis megállíthatod!
Persze, csak ha a herceg is rááll, hogy megálljon. Mert a rend őrének senkit se szabad
megsértenie; márpedig, ha akaratja ellenire megállítasz valakit, az sértés.
FURKÓ
A Szűzmáriáját, bizony úgy van!
LASPONYA
De úgy ám! No, emberek, jó éjszakát! Aztán ha valami fontos dolog esnék, engem híjjatok!
Szedjétek össze az eszeteket - de még a cimboráitok eszét is -, jó éjtszakát! Gyere, szomszéd!
Indulnak Furkóval
�MÁSODIK ŐR
No, emberek, megkaptuk az utasítást. Üldögéljünk itt a templom padján két óráig, aztán ágyba mind!
LASPONYA
(visszafordul)
Még egy szót, derék szomszédok! Cirkáljatok signor Leonato portája körül, mert ott holnapra
lakodalom készül, s nagy nyüzsgés lesz az éjjel! Isten áldjon! Virrasszatok éhbéren!
Lasponya és Furkó elvonul.
Előtántorog Boracchio, majd a nyomában Corrado
BORACCHIO
(halkan)
Hé, Corrado!
ELSŐ ŐR
(halkan)
Csitt! Ne moccanjatok!
BORACCHIO
Corrado, hol vagy már?
CORRADO
Itt, a sarkadban, komám!
BORACCHIO
Hát azért viszketett a sarkam! Mindjárt gondoltam, hogy valami rühes alak lehet ott!
CORRADO
Ezért még megkapod a magadét. De most halljam azt a históriát!
�BORACCHIO
Csak lapulj ide, az eresz alá, már szemerkél az eső. Kivallok én mindent, mert borban az
igazság!
ELSŐ ŐR
(halkan)
Valami gazság! Füleljetek, emberek!
BORACCHIO
Tudd meg, hogy Don Juantól - ezer dukátot kaptam.
CORRADO
Milyen gaztettnek lehet ilyen nagy ára?
BORACCHIO
Azt kérdezd inkább: milyen gazembernek lehet ilyen sok pénze? Mert ha a pénzes
gazembernek szüksége van a szegény legényre, akkor a szegény legény olyan árat szab,
amilyen őneki tetszik!
CORRADO
Nem fogy csudám!
BORACCHIO
Látszik, hogy kezdő vagy. Azt tudod, hogy mellény, kalap, kabát divatja - semmiség.
CORRADO
Persze, csak ruha.
BORACCHIO
Azt mondom, divat!
�CORRADO
Igen, a divat, az divat.
BORACCHIO
Eh! Épp úgy mondhatom, hogy a bolond, az bolond. Hát nem látod, micsoda huncut tolvaj a
divat?
MÁSODIK ŐR
(félre)
"Huncut" - ismerős ez a név! Vagy hét éve garázdálkodik erre; nagy tolvaj! Úgy jár-kel itt,
mint valami nemesúr, "Huncut" - így híjják, emlékszek.
BORACCHIO
Hallod ezt? Valaki beszél!
CORRADO
Nem, csak a szélkakas nyikorog a házon.
BORACCHIO
Mondom hát, nem látod, milyen huncut tolvaj a divat?... Hogy elszédít, hogy kiforgat minden
ficsurat?... úgy tizennégytől harmincöt évesig... Néha úgy ruházza őket, mint a fáraó vitézeit a
megbarnult szentképen - néha meg mint a Bál isten papjait az ótemplom ablakán - néha meg
mint azt a csupasz képű Herkulest a koszlott, molyos kárpiton - megnézted? -, duzzadtabb a
gatyapőce, mint a buzogánya...
CORRADO
Jó, jó, tudom én is - s azt is, hogy a divat több ruhát vág a sutba, mint amennyit ember
elnyüstölhet... De hát nem megszédített a divat téged is? - lám, elkanyarodtál a históriádtól, s
a divatról fecsegsz!
BORACCHIO
Attól ne tarts! Tudd meg, hogy máma éjtszaka bekéredzkedtem Margarétához... a - Hero
kisasszony komornájához, de úgy szólítottam, mintha Hero volna... A kisasszony ablakán
kihajolva búcsúztatott, jó éjszakát kívánt vagy ezerszer... De nem jól mondom ezt a históriát...
�Azon kellett volna kezdenem, hogy a herceg, meg Claudio, meg a gazdám... No, a gazdám,
Don Juan, az úgy dirigálta, állogatta, igazgatta azt a két urat, hogy onnét messziről, a kertből
megleshessék a szerelmetes találkát.
CORRADO
Aztán Margarétát Herónak gondolták?
BORACCHIO
Azok ketten igen, a herceg meg Claudio. De az én gazdám, az ördögfajzat, az tudta ám, hogy
az ott Margaréta! Egy szó mint száz - a gazdám erősködése, a csalafinta sötétség, no meg
leginkább az én szerelmetes mesterkedésem - az megtette a magáét! Don Juan minden
rágalma olyan valóságosnak rémlett egyszeriben, hogy Claudio őrjöngve rohant el...
Megesküdött, hogy holnap reggel a templomban, mihelyt elé kerül Hero: ott, az egész
gyülekezet előtt fejére olvassa, mit látott az éjjel, s kiadja az útját - mehet haza a menyasszony
párja nélkül!
Az őrök előlépnek
MÁSODIK ŐR
Megállj! A herceg nevében!
ELSŐ ŐR
Híjjátok a strázsamestert! Itten mi fölfedeztük az álladalom legveszedelmesebb paráznaságát.
MÁSODIK ŐR
Az a Huncut nevezetű is köztük lehet - azt majd megismerem a barkójárul.
CORRADO
Emberek, emberek!
MÁSODIK ŐR
Előkerítitek ti azt a Huncutot - errül kezeskedem!
�CORRADO
Emberek...
ELSŐ ŐR
Egy szót se! Ezennel befoglak! Megparancsolom, hogy felsőbb engedelmetekkel velünk
tartsatok!
BORACCHIO
No, szép kis portéka lesz belőlünk, ha ezek itt plajbászvégre kapnak!
CORRADO
Mondhatnám: keresett portéka. Csak nyugalom... megyünk veletek!
Mind elvonulnak
4. szín
Szoba Leonato házában.
Hero, Margaréta, Ursula jön
HERO
Ursula, kedves, ébreszd föl a kuzinkámat, Beatricét, mondd, hogy keljen már!
URSULA
Megyek, kisasszonyom.
HERO
S mondd, hogy jöjjön ide!
URSULA
�Igenis. (Elmegy)
MARGARÉTA
Igazán, azt hiszem, jobb volna a másik gallér.
HERO
Nem, kedves Margóm, ezt veszem fel.
MARGARÉTA
Szavamra, ez nem áll olyan jól. Fogadni mernék, hogy a kuzinkád is ezt mondja majd!
HERO
A kuzinkám bolond - és te is az vagy! Csakis ezt veszem fel.
MARGARÉTA
Pompás ez az új fejdísz - csak a vendéghaj lehetne rajta egy kicsit sötétebb. A ruha szabása is
remek! Én láttam a milánói hercegné ruháját, amiért úgy odavannak...
HERO
Ó, csodálatos, azt mondják!
MARGARÉTA
Esküszöm, ehhez képest csak hálóköntös. Arany hímzés, ezüst csipke - az ujján, vállán
gyöngy - és körös-körül kék fodor... De a tiéd, kisasszonyom - ez a furcsa, finom, kecses
szabás - ez tízszer olyan izgalmas!
HERO
Adná Isten, hogy örömben viseljem, mert nagyon nehéz a szívem!
MARGARÉTA
Nemsokára még nehezebb lesz - egy férfi terhével.
�HERO
Fuj, nem szégyelled magad!
MARGARÉTA
Miért, kisasszonyom? Azért, hogy ezt tisztességesen kimondom? Tán nem tisztességes dolog
a házasság, még a koldusok násza is? S tán nem tisztességes ember a párod - még házasság
nélkül is? Te jobb szeretnéd, ha így beszélnék: "Szavammal ne vétsek, egy hitvestárs
oldalán..." satöbbi... Ej, nem sérti az én beszédem, csak azt, aki hamisan gondolkozik. Nem
bántok én senkit. Mi bántó van abban, hogy "nehezebb lesz egy férfi terhével"? Nincs abban
semmi - csak derék férfi, derék asszony nyomja azt a derékaljat - s ne afféle könnyű
szerelemből legyen terhesség. Kérdezd csak meg Beatrice kisasszonyt - épp itt jön!
Belép Beatrice
HERO
Jó reggelt, kuzin!
BEATRICE
Jó reggelt, kedves Hero!
HERO
No, mi az? Mért szólsz ilyen bágyadtan?
BEATRICE
Én már eztán csak így szólok, ha szólok.
MARGARÉTA
Búsan szóló solo. De hogy mégse maradj solo, én majd táncolok rá.
BEATRICE
Csak vigyázz, félre ne lépj! Ha majd a férjed se lép félre, lesz fiókátok egy egész fészekalja.
MARGARÉTA
�Fészekalja! Sok beszédnek sok az alja.
BEATRICE
Mindjárt öt óra, ideje volna elkészülni, kuzin! - Komolyan mondom, nagyon rosszul vagyok...
Brrr!
MARGARÉTA
Brrr? Ez jelent valamit! Lovat biztatsz?... vagy sólymot? vagy valami jómadarat?... Kiderítem
én, ki az!
BEATRICE
Kiderítheted, de engem kiterítenek!
MARGARÉTA
Előbb kell neked nászlepel, mint gyászlepel!
BEATRICE
Mit akar ez a bolond?
MARGARÉTA
Én semmit. De Isten adja meg minden epedő szűznek a betevő falatját!
HERO
Nézd, kuzin, ezt a kesztyűt a gróftól kaptam. Leheld be az illatát, milyen finom!
BEATRICE
Én már alig lehelek, mint a tömött liba.
MARGARÉTA
Egy szűz, akit megtömtek... Hm, ez nem is rossz betegség!
�BEATRICE
Eszed tokja! Úristen! Mióta vagy ilyen szellemes?
MARGARÉTA
Mióta a te eszed tokba került, s pihen. Nem jó, hogy az én fejemből is pattan ki sziporka?
BEATRICE
A fejdíszed jobban sziporkázik, mint a fejed. - Igazán beteg vagyok.
MARGARÉTA
Benedictus-főzettel kell borogatni a szívét, más nem használ.
HERO
De hisz az paraszti nevén - bogáncs! Csak meg ne bökje a bökőjével ez a Benedictus!
BEATRICE
Benedictus, Benedictus! Miféle célzás ez a Benedictus?
MARGARÉTA
Célzás? Szó sincs róla! Csak az áldásos bogáncsfőzetről van szó. Te most azt hiszed, hogy én
azt hiszem, hogy szerelmes vagy. Nem, nem - Szűz Anyánkra! - nem vagyok én olyan bolond,
hogy azt higgyem, ami sejlik, és azt sejtsem, ami rémlik - hogy azt vegyem észre, amit szívre
kell venni, s azt vegyem szívre, amit észre kell venni - dehogy gondolom én
meggondolatlanul, hogy szerelmes vagy, szerelmes leszel, szerelmes lehetsz! De hát
Benedetto is így volt, s egyszercsak rájött, hogy férfi. Azelőtt kiköpött, ha házasságról volt
szó, most pedig kiköpött olyan, mint egy házasulandó ifjú. Én nem tudhatom, kisasszonyom,
mit forgatsz a fejedben, de mondhatom, te is úgy forgatod a szemed, mint más emberlánya.
BEATRICE
Meg nem áll a nyelved!
MARGARÉTA
De amit mond, az megáll!
�Ursula besiet
URSULA
Kisasszonyom, szobádba, gyorsan! Itt vannak a gavallérok - a herceg, a gróf úr, signor
Benedetto, Don Juan - s mind a többi a városból - visznek a templomba!
HERO
Segítsetek felöltözni - kuzinkám, Margóm, Ursulám!
Mind elsietnek
5. szín
Csarnok Leonato házában.
Jön Leonato Lasponyával és Furkóval
LEONATO
Mi járatban vagy nálam, derék földim?
LASPONYA
Én, kérem, szeretnék az úrral konflidensen szót érteni egy olyan kázusról, aki az úrnak,
igencsak közelről indiferens.
LEONATO
Csak röviden, láthatjátok, sok a dolgom.
LASPONYA
Hát, uram, így áll a dolog...
�FURKÓ
Így bizony, uram.
LEONATO
Milyen dolog, jó emberek?
LASPONYA
Uram, ez a derék Furkó egy kicsikét el-eltér a dologtól - öreg ember már, uram, nem olyan
genitális koponya, ammint, Isten segedelmével, magam is szeretném, de bizisten ollyan
tisztességes, mint az a ránc ott a szemöldöke közt!
FURKÓ
Bizony, Istennek hála, vagyok ollyan tisztességes, mint akárki fia, mán az öregje, ha nem
tisztességesebb énnálam is.
LASPONYA
Eltaláltad szarva közt a tőgyit, Furkó szomszéd.
LEONATO
Jó emberek, egy kissé körülményesek vagytok.
LASPONYA
Kegyelmednek úgy tetszik, csakhogy mi a szegény herceg szolgálatában állunk. De az mán
igaz, hogy énmagam, ha énnekem annyi körülményem volna is, mint egy királynak, hát én
aztat mind kegyelmedre testálnám hit alatt.
LEONATO
Minden körülményességed rám szakadjon, mi?
LASPONYA
Bizony, még ha ezerannyi volna is, merhogy hallom, kegyelmednek ollyan infámis nagy
redumációja van itt, mint akárkinek városszerte, és hát én ugyan szegény ember vagyok, de
eztet azér jólesik hallanom!
�FURKÓ
Hát még énnekem!
LEONATO
Nagyon szeretném már tudni, mit akartok mondani.
FURKÓ
Biz, uram, a strázsa máma éjtszaka elkapott egy pár ollyan megrögzött cinkost, mint akárki
itten Messinában - kegyelmedrül nem is szólva.
LASPONYA
Derék vénember ez, uram, csak hát beszélhetnékje van - mán ahogy a szólás tartsa: "Hosszú
élet, rövid ész," Uram Isten, mit nem lát az ember ebben a világban! - Azér csak jól beszélsz,
Furkó szomszéd! Lám, jó ember az Isten - és hát ahol ketten ülnek meg egy lovat, ott az
egyiknek csak hátul kell ülni. Jótét lélek ez, uram. Van ollyan jó, mint akármelyik
kenyérpusztító, de hát Isten jóvoltából nem minden ember egyforma, sajnos. - Ugye, jó
szomszéd?
LEONATO
Persze, persze, ő elmarad mögötted.
LASPONYA
Hát a tálentumokat az Isten osztogassa.
LEONATO
Nos, mennem kell.
LASPONYA
Egy szót még, uram! A strázsa csakugyan betakarított két nótárius huncutot, és hát ma reggel
akarnánk elvégezni a vizitációt a kegyelmed színe előtt.
LEONATO
�Végezzétek el magatok, s tegyetek jelentést, sietek, láthatjátok.
LASPONYA
Lesz itt olyan vizit!...
LEONATO
Igyatok egy kis bort búcsúzóra - Isten áldjon!
Indul, de egy követ érkezése megállítja
KÖVET
Nagyuram, várnak, hogy a leányasszonyt a vőlegény elé vezesd.
LEONATO
Készen vagyok, indulok.
Leonato távozik a követtel
LASPONYA
Eridj, jó komám, teremtsd elő a notóriust, mondd, hogy tentát, pennát hozzon a fogházba,
mert meg kell azokat az embereket vizitelni.
FURKÓ
Mégpedig eszesen!
LASPONYA
Van itt ész, sose félj! (Fejét kopogtatva) Lakozik itt egysmás, amitől még rájuk gyön a
viszketeg. Csak kerítsd elő azt a tudós írót, hogy atkát fektessen föl a megbiztatásunkról, s
jelentkezzen nálam, a fogházban.
Mindketten távoznak
�NEGYEDIK FELVONÁS
1. szín
Templom belseje.
Jön Don Pedro, Don Juan, Leonato, Ferenc barát,
Claudio, Benedetto, Hero, Beatrice stb.
LEONATO
Kérlek, Ferenc atyám, csak röviden - pusztán a szertartás szövegét - a házastársi
kötelezettségekről majd beszélhetsz nekik később.
FERENC
Azért járultál-e ide, gróf uram, hogy ezzel a hölggyel házasságot köss?
CLAUDIO
Nem.
LEONATO
"Hogy házasságra lépj" - így helyes. Mert a házasságot te kötöd meg, atyám.
FERENC
Azért járultál-e ide, leányasszony, hogy a gróf úrral házasságra lépj.
HERO
Igen.
FERENC
Ha bármelyikőtök tud olyan titkos akadályról, mely a házasság megkötése ellen szól:
üdvösségetekre kérlek, el ne hallgassátok!
�CLAUDIO
Tudsz-e ilyen akadályról, Hero?
HERO
Nem, uram.
FERENC
Tudsz-e ilyen akadályról, gróf uram?
LEONATO
Merészkedem felelni helyette: nem!
CLAUDIO
Mit nem merészelnek az emberek! Mit nem kockáztatnak! Mit nem tesznek napról napra, azt
sem tudva, mit cselekszenek!
BENEDETTO
Mi ez? Vétó? Ezen csak nevetni lehet. Hahaha!
CLAUDIO
Állj félre most, barát! - Hadd kérdelek meg:
Te, mint apa, jó szívvel, szabadon
Hozzám adnád e szűzet, lányodat?
LEONATO
Oly szabadon, mint Isten adta nékem.
CLAUDIO
S méltó viszonzásul mit adhatok
Ily drága, gazdag ajándék fejében?
�DON PEDRO
Semmit, ha őt nem küldöd vissza néki.
CLAUDIO
Jó hercegem, nemes hálára oktatsz. Tessék, vedd vissza lányod, Leonato!
Barátodnak ne adj poshadt narancsot!
Csak szín és máz a tisztesség a képén:
Nézd, hogy pirul itt, mint egy szűz leány!
Ó, hogy ravasz bűn mily fenséges és
Komoly köntösbe burkolózhat el!
Arcába szökkent vére nem bizonyság,
Hogy tiszta, jó? Nem esküdnétek-e,
Hogy hajadon leány? Pedig nem az!
Már ismeri a páros ágy hevét!
Nem szűzességtől: szégyentől pirul!
LEONATO
Mit mondasz, gróf?!
CLAUDIO
Azt, hogy nincs esküvő:
Ne kössem lelkem címeres bujához!
LEONATO
Jó gróf, ha lányomat próbára téve,
Ifjú szemérmét végül is legyőzted,
És szűzessége meghódolt neked -
�CLAUDIO
Tudom, mit mondanál! Ha őt lebírtam,
Csak úgy ölelt engem, mint férjurát Előre -, s így ez vétkét mentheti.
Nem, Leonato!
Még rossz szóval sem kísértettem őt,
Csak illedelmes, gyöngéd szeretettel
Vettem körül, mint testvér kishugát.
HERO
És én nem annak látszottam vajon?
CLAUDIO
Látszottál annak. Múljon már a látszat!
Úgy tűnsz fel, mint a mennybolton Diána,
Mint szűzi bimbó, mielőtt kifeslik De ereidben lángolóbb a vér,
Mint Vénuszé, vagy buja barmoké,
Mikor nekivadulva bakzanak!
HERO
Rosszul van tán a gróf, hogy így beszél?
LEONATO
Jó herceg, mért nem szólsz?
DON PEDRO
Mit szóljak én?
Eljátszottam becsületem, mikor
Barátom egy rimával fűztem össze.
�LEONATO
Jól hallok-e? Vagy mindezt álmodom?
DON JUAN
Jól hallasz, uram, és mindez való.
BENEDETTO
(félre)
Ez volna esküvő?
HERO
"Való" - nagy Isten!
CLAUDIO
Én vagyok ez, ki itt áll, Leonato?
S ez itt a herceg? S ez a herceg öccse?
Ez Hero arca? S ez saját szemem?
LEONATO
Úgy van. De ezzel mit akarsz, uram?
CLAUDIO
Csak egy kérdést lányodnak hadd teszek föl.
S te, mint az apja, gyengéd hatalommal
Hass úgy reá, hogy igazat feleljen.
LEONATO
Úgy tégy, ha lányom vagy - parancsolom!
�HERO
Isten, segíts, mindenki ellenem van!
Miféle vallatóra fogtok itt?
CLAUDIO
Úgy vallj, hogy jó neved szégyent ne valljon.
HERO
Hero vagyok - mocskolhat jog szerint
Akárki váddal?
CLAUDIO
Csak Hero maga.
Hero jó hírét - Hero söpri el.
Kivel beszéltél tegnap éjszaka
Az ablakodból éjfél s egy között?
Ha még leány vagy, erre válaszolj!
HERO
Azon az órán senkivel se szóltam.
DON PEDRO
Akkor nem vagy leány. - Jó Leonato,
Sajnálom, meg kell tudnod ezt... Hitemre:
Testvéröcsém, s a megcsalt gróf, s magam
Hallottuk, láttuk, hogy múlt éjszaka
Beszélt az ablakából egy latorral,
S az a pimasz szégyentelen kimondta,
Hogy már ezerszer jöttek össze titkon Bünös találkozóra...
�DON JUAN
Fúj, gyalázat!
Nincs erre név, nincs erre szó, uram!
A nyelv bemocskolódnék tőle, míg
Kimondaná. - Sajnálom, szép kisasszony,
Hogy így megtévelyedtél!
CLAUDIO
Ó, Hero!... hogy milyen Hero lehetnél,
Ha testi szépségednek csak felét
Szivedbe és lelkedbe írva látnám!
Isten veled, te rongy, te gyönyörű,
Te tiszta szenny, te szennyes tisztaság!
Szemem szerelmes ablakát bezárom;
Gyanú remegjen pillám függönyén is,
Hogy szépséged csak gyötrelmemre váljék,
S ne bűvölhessen meg többé soha!
LEONATO
Nincs itt egy tőr, hogy döfné át szivem?!...
Hero elájul
BEATRICE
Mi lel, kuzin?... mi ez?... hisz összerogysz!
DON JUAN
Menjünk haza. Ez a leleplezés
Sziven találta.
�Don Pedro, Don Juan és Claudio távozik
BENEDETTO
Hogy van a kisasszony?
BEATRICE
Jaj, félek, meghalt! - Bátyám, most segíts! Hero! Szólj, Hero! - Bátyám! - Benedetto! -
LEONATO
Sors, el ne vedd rólunk sújtó kezed!
Halál a legszebb fátyol szégyenére Kivánhatunk-e mást.
BEATRICE
Hero! Kuzin!
FERENC
Éledj, leányom!
LEONATO
Még reám tekintesz?
FERENC
Miért ne?...
LEONATO
"Miért ne?" Nem harsogja szégyenét
A földkerekség? Tagadhatja-e
Lány-vérrel írott botrány-krónikáját? -
�Ne élj, te Hero! Föl ne nyisd szemed!
Ha azt hinném, hogy nem halsz gyors halált,
S ujult erőd lebírja szégyened:
Magam ragadnék fenyiteni fegyvert,
S lecsapnék rád! - Fájt, hogy nincs több leányom?
Lázadtam a fukar Természet ellen?
- Jaj, egy is sok volt! Mért lett ez az egy is!
Miért is volt a szemem fénye - ez?
Fogadtam volna lányt örökbe inkább Egy koldus sarját, ingyen kegyelemből!
Ha azt mocskolná így bűn és gyalázat,
Mondhatnám: "Egy csepp vére sem sajátom,
Bitang ágyékból származott e szégyen!"
De ő - enyém! Dicsértem őt, szerettem,
S kérkedtem véle. Oly nagyon enyém volt,
Hogy ennen lényem nem volt oly sajátom,
Mint ő maga! S ő, ő hullt oly mocsokba,
Hogy nincs a nagy tengerben annyi hab,
Amennyi még egyszer tisztára mossa S nincs annyi sója, hogy romlott husát
Épen megóvja...
BENEDETTO
Csillapodj, uram!
Én úgy ámulok - szóhoz sem jutok.
BEATRICE
Rágalmazzák hugom - lelkem reá!
BENEDETTO
�A hálótársad volt, kisasszonyom?
BEATRICE
Múlt éjjel nem, de tegnap éjjelig
Hálótársam volt egy éven keresztül.
LEONATO
Ez bizonyíték, újabb bizonyíték,
Arra, mi úgyis vas-szilárdan állt!
Vagy hazug tán e két herceg, s hazug
Claudio, ki úgy szerette őt,
Hogy foltját könnyel mosta volna le?
Hagyjuk magára: meg kell halnia.
FERENC
Figyelj egy percre rám!
Azért hallgattam oly soká, s azért
Engedtem ily szabad folyást a sorsnak,
Mert egyre a leányasszonyt figyeltem:
Ezerszer is bibor festette arcát,
S ismét ezerszer ártatlan szemérem
Angyal-fehérrel űzte el a pírt,
S oly perzselő tűz lobbant föl szemében,
Hogy elhamvadt a hazug rágalom,
Amit rászúrt a két úr. Mondj bolondnak,
Ne bízz többé se stúdiumaimban,
Se próbájukban, a tapasztalásban,
Ne bízz koromban, tisztemben, hitemben:
Ha nem ártatlanul sújtotta le
A drága lányt egy gyilkos tévedés.
�LEONATO
Atyám, az nem lehet. Látod magad:
Még benne is van annyi becsület,
Hogy nem terheli hamis esküvel
Veszendő lelkét: ime, nem tagad!
Mért próbálod hát őhelyette is
Leplezni a mezítelen valót?
FERENC
Leányom, szólj: kivel vádoltak itt?
HERO
Az tudja, aki vádol: én magam nem,
Ha van csak egy oly élő férfi is,
Kit jobban ismerek, mint lánynak illik:
Ne oldozzon fel irgalom! Atyám,
Ha rám bizonyul az, hogy bárkivel
Tilalmas órán volt társalkodásom,
Vagy tegnap éjjel szóltam földi lénnyel;
Ám sújtson átok, törvény, kínhalál!
FERENC
Szörnyű tévhitben élnek az urak.
BENEDETTO
Kettő közülük gáncstalan lovag.
Ha ítéletük megtévedt ez egyszer:
A fattyu Don Juannak műve lesz az,
Ki mindig aljas terveket kohol.
�LEONATO
Nem tudhatom. Ha igaz volt a vád:
Kezemmel tépem szét a lányt. Ha nem:
Megemlegeti a rágalmazó,
Bármily nagy úr! Nem száradt még ki vérem,
Nem ette úgy meg vénség agyvelőmet,
Nem fosztott úgy ki balsors mindenemből,
S nem szórta úgy szét jó barátaim,
Hogy föl ne keljek ilyen sérelemre:
Lesz itt erő e karban, ész e fejben,
Lesz fegyver bőven és barát sereggel
Hogy bosszut álljak!
FERENC
Csillapodj le most,
S fogadd vezérül jó tanácsomat.
A herceg holtnak gondolhatta lányod:
Zárd hát el egy időre nagy titokban,
És hírleld azt, hogy valóban nem él.
Látszatra rendezz nagy gyászünnepélyt;
Családotoknak ősi kriptaboltját
Diszítse gyászos sírirat, s legyen
Hiánytalan a temetési pompa.
LEONATO
Mi sül ki ebből, és mi haszna ennek?
FERENC
Ha jól csinálod: így a rágalom
�Helyébe bánat lép - s ez már haszon -,
De célom nem csak ennyi: többre is
Török, mikor mesterkedést ajánlok.
Ha szörnyethalt a lány a vád alatt
- Mert ehhez most már ragaszkodni kell -,
Siratni, szánni, mentegetni fogják.
Tapasztalat, hogy nem becsüljük azt,
Mi megvan, bezzeg túlbecsüljük azt,
Mit elvesztettünk! Rejtett kincseket
Találunk benne, mikről azelőtt
Semmit se tudtunk. Claudio is így jár:
Ha hallja, hogy a vád megölte Herót,
A lány előtte eszményként ragyog fel,
És belopózik édességesen
A képzeletnek titkos műhelyébe:
Lényének minden drága porcikája
Még ünnepibb köntösbe öltözik,
S kápráztatóbb és élőbb lesz szemében,
Mint az a lány, ki valósággal élt.
Gyászolni fog a vőlegény, ha volt
Szivében csak egy szikra szerelem,
S emészti majd, hogy mért sújtott le vádja Még akkor is, ha esküszik reá!
Tégy így tehát és jó sikert remélj:
Lehet, hogy még szebb lesz a fordulat,
Mint én vázoltam rögtönözve itt.
S ha semmi más jót nem hoz is neked:
Mihelyt e lány holtának híre megy,
Elhamvad a fölzúdulás tüze.
S ha mégsem úgy lesz: még elrejtheted
�- Amint kicsorbult híre megkivánja Egy szent kolostorban, hová szemek,
Nyelvek s lelkek haragja el nem ér.
BENEDETTO
Signor Leonato, hallgass a barátra!
Tudod, hogy hercegünkhöz s Claudióhoz
Igaz hűség és szeretet kötöz,
Mégis - hitemre - ebben a dologban
Oly titkosan s vigyázva járok el majd,
Mint lélek jár a testben.
LEONATO
Vész sodor:
Kapaszkodom egy szalmaszálba is.
FERENC
Helyes. Ne vesztegessünk több időt!
A furcsa sebre furcsa ír kerül. Halj meg, hogy élj! Leányom, esküvőd
Csak eltolódik - tarts ki emberül!
Ferenc barát, Hero és Leonato távozik
BENEDETTO
Kisasszonyom, Beatrice... Te mindvégig sírtál.
BEATRICE
Sírtam, és fogok is sírni.
�BENEDETTO
Nem akarom, hogy sírj.
BEATRICE
Nem temiattad, a magam jószántából sírok.
BENEDETTO
Hiszem, hogy szép kuzinodat rágalom érte.
BEATRICE
Mit nem adnék annak, aki visszaszerzi jó hírét!
BENEDETTO
S van mód ilyen baráti szolgálatra?
BEATRICE
Mód éppen van, csak barát nincs.
BENEDETTO
Férfinak való munka volna?
BEATRICE
Férfinak való, de nem neked.
BENEDETTO
Semmit sem szeretek a világon annyira... mint téged. Nem furcsa?
BEATRICE
Olyan furcsa, mint minden ismeretlen. Én is éppígy mondhatnám, hogy semmit sem szeretek
annyira, mint téged... de ne higgy nekem! Pedig nem hazudok. Nem árulok el semmit... És
nem tagadok semmit... Nagyon fáj, ami a kuzinomat érte.
�BENEDETTO
Kardomra esküszöm, Beatrice, te szeretsz engem!
BEATRICE
Tilos az eskü, nyeld le!
BENEDETTO
Kardomra esküszöm, hogy szeretsz - és kardomat nyeletem le azzal, aki azt meri mondani,
hogy én nem szeretlek.
BEATRICE
Nem nyelnéd inkább vissza azt, amit mondtál?
BENEDETTO
Nem nyelném én vissza, a legjobb mártással se - kimondom: szeretlek!
BEATRICE
Akkor az Isten bocsássa meg vétkem...
BENEDETTO
Mi a vétked, édes Beatrice?
BEATRICE
Jókor vágtál a szavamba, már majdnem kimondtam, hogy szeretlek.
BENEDETTO
Mondd ki teljes szívedből!
BEATRICE
Teljes szívem szeret - de kimondhatatlanul.
�BENEDETTO
Parancsolj velem: bármit megteszek érted!
BEATRICE
Öld meg Claudiót!
BENEDETTO
Azt a világért se!
BEATRICE
Megölsz azzal, hogy megtagadod - Isten veled!
BENEDETTO
Várj édes Beatrice!
BEATRICE
Ha itt vagyok se várok semmit... Nem szeretsz... Hadd menjek, eressz!
BENEDETTO
Beatrice...
BEATRICE
Esküszöm, megyek!
BENEDETTO
Elébb kössünk békét.
BEATRICE
Persze, bátorságosabb békét kötni velem, mint kardot kötni az ellenség ellen.
�BENEDETTO
Claudio ellenséged?
BEATRICE
Hát nem nyilvánvalóan cégéres gazember, aki az én véremet merte szidni, káromolni,
meggyalázni? Volnék csak férfi!... Ilyet, hogy valaki hitegessen egy lányt, s aztán ahelyett,
hogy hites feleségül venné, a násznép előtt támadjon rá szemérmetlen váddal, leplezetlen
rágalommal, kíméletlen gonoszsággal... Nagy Isten! csak férfi volnék!... A piactéren falnám
föl a szívét!
BENEDETTO
Hallgass meg, Beatrice!
BEATRICE
Még hogy férfival csevegett az ablakból!... Gyönyörű mese!
BENEDETTO
De Beatrice...
BEATRICE
A drága Hero - meghurcolva, meggyalázva, tönkretéve...
BENEDETTO
Beat...
BEATRICE
Hercegek és grófok! Persze, a herceg úr, mint tanú, s a "hercig úr", mint tabu - persze, ki
merne nyúlni ilyen édes grófocskához! Ó, bár férfi volnék, hogy kiálljak vele! Vagy bár volna
férfi a barátaim között, hogy kiálljon értem! De mivé olvadt a virtus? - nyájassággá! A
vitézség? - nyálassággá! - Egyebe sincs már a férfinak, csak nyelve - de micsoda nyegle
nyelve! - az most a hős Herkules, aki nagyot tud hazudni, s meg is esküszik rá!... Ha
megveszek, se lehetek férfiember: elveszhetek hát kínomban, mint asszonyállat.
�BENEDETTO
Maradj, kedves Beatrice - száradjon le a kezem, ha nem szeretlek!
BEATRICE
Ne esküdözésre használd a kezed, ha szeretsz!
BENEDETTO
Szívvel-lélekkel vallod, hogy Claudio gróf rágalmazta Herót?
BEATRICE
Olyan biztos az, mint hogy szívem s lelkem van.
BENEDETTO
Elég. Fogadom, hogy kihívom. Hadd búcsúzzam kézcsókkal... E kézre mondom: drágán
megfizet Claudio! Még hallasz rólam - aszerint ítélj meg! Menj, s tartsd a lelket kuzinodban!
Nekem azt kell híresztelnem, hogy meghalt... Isten áldjon!
Benedetto elsiet, Beatrice elvonul
2. szín
Vallatószoba a törvényszéken.
Jön Lasponya, Furkó s egy jegyző - mind hivatalos
öltözékben. Az őrség bevezeti Corradót és Boracchiót
LASPONYA
Együtt van az egész törvényszéklet?
FURKÓ
Széket meg párnát a jegyző úr alá!
�JEGYZŐ
Kik a delikvensek?
LASPONYA
Mi vagyunk itt minden, én meg a kollégám.
FURKÓ
Úgy is van. Mi kaptunk ordenárét, hogy lefolytassuk az inváziót.
JEGYZŐ
De kik a tettesek? Álljanak a strázsamester úr elé!
LASPONYA
Az ám, álljanak elébe! - Mi a neved, komám?
BORACCHIO
Boracchio.
LASPONYA
Tessék beírni, hogy "Boracchio". - Hát a te neved, fickó?
CORRADO
Én nemesember vagyok, kérem, s a nevem: Corrado.
LASPONYA
Írjad: "Corrado nemzetes úr." - Félitek-é az Istent, uraim?
CORRADO
BORACCHIO
�Reméljük, uram.
LASPONYA
Írjad: remélik, hogy félik... De előre írd az Istent, mer Isten ments, hogy Isten elmaradjon az
ilyen zsiványok mögött! - No, urak, hát bizonyítékunk van rája, hogy alighanem csaló
gazemberek vagytok, és hát kis híján eztet gondoljuk tirólatok, rövidre fogva. Erre mit
feleltek?
CORRADO
Azt, uram, hogy nem vagyunk azok.
LASPONYA
Csuda agyafúrt fráter ez, mondhatom - no de majd túljárok én az eszin! - Most te gyere ide,
fickó, súgok valamit! Aszondom, hogy aszondják, hogy csaló gazemberek vagytok.
BORACCHIO
Csak azt mondhatom, uram, hogy nem vagyunk azok.
LASPONYA
No jól van, állj csak oda félre... - Isten úgyse, mind a kettő ugyanazt vallja! Leírtad, hogy
aszondják, hogy nem gazemberek?
JEGYZŐ
Strázsamester uram, nem jól indul így a vizsgálat. Az őröket kellene kikérdezni, mert azok
vádolják őket.
LASPONYA
Az ám, biz' isten, az lesz a legfizikusabb útja-módja... Győjjön az őrség! - Biztos urak,
megbiztatlak benneteket a herceg nevében: vádoljátok ezeket az embereket.
ELSŐ ŐR
Ez az ember kibökte, hogy Don Juan - a herceg testvéröccse - gazember.
�LASPONYA
Írjad: "Don Juan - gazember..." No, ez nyilvánvaló lázadás, illyet mondani, hogy egy herceg
testvéröccse gazember!
BORACCHIO
Strázsamester uram...
LASPONYA
Kusti, fickó! Nem szeretem a képedet, annyit mondok!
JEGYZŐ
Mi egyebet hallottatok még tőle?
MÁSODIK ŐR
Bizony, még azt is, hogy ezer dukátot kapott Don Juantól, amiért hamis váddal Hero
kisasszony becsületére tört.
LASPONYA
Ez nyilvánvaló betöréses lopás, a javából!
FURKÓ
Engem úgyse, az!
JEGYZŐ
Mit hallottatok még, fiam?
ELSŐ ŐR
Még azt, hogy Claudio gróf erősködött, és szavára fogadta, hogy ő bizony legyalázza Hero
kisasszonyt az egész gyülekezet előtt, s el nem veszi feleségül!
LASPONYA
Gazember! Ezért örök váltsággal lakolsz!
�JEGYZŐ
Hát még?
MÁSODIK ŐR
Ennyit hallottunk.
JEGYZŐ
Több ez, semhogy letagadhatnátok, urak. Don Juan ma reggel titokban szélnek eredt, Hero
valóban így vádoltatott meg, így taszíttatott el, és így halt bele fájdalmába. Strázsamester
uram, kötözzétek le őket, s vezessétek Leonato elé! Én előremegyek, s bemutatom a
vallomásukat! (Távozik)
LASPONYA
Rajta, lekötelezni őket!
FURKÓ
Le ám - a kezüket!
CORRADO
Coki, tökfej!
LASPONYA
Magasságos Isten!... Hol a jegyző? Ezt írja le, hogy a herceg úr rendőre "tökfej"!... Kötelet rá!
- Te gané, te!
CORRADO
Kotródj innen! Szamár vagy, szamár...
LASPONYA
Hát már a sarzsimat se repetálod? a koromat se repetálod? Ó, csak volna itt a jegyző, hogy
szamárnak írna le! Uraim, ezt ne feledjétek, hogy szamár vagyok! Jegyezzétek meg, ha nincs
is lejegyezve, hogy szamár vagyok! Te gazember, te, rád bizonyítom én hites tanúkkal, hogy
�korrekt vagy tetőtől talpig! Én pedig bölcs ember vagyok, s mi több, hivatalos személy, s mi
több, háztulajdonos, s mi több, olyan szép derék darab hús, mint senki itt, Messinában...
Ollyan, aki igenis törvénytudó, igenis módos ember, igenis nagybérlő, s igenis, megvan a
maga két rend ruhája meg mindene takarosan! - Vezessétek el! - Ó, csak írásban lefektették
volna, hogy szamár vagyok!
Mind elvonulnak
ÖTÖDIK FELVONÁS
1. szín
Leonato háza előtt. Jön Leonato és Antonio
ANTONIO
Ha így folytatod, elveszted magad.
Nem bölcs dolog, hogy nem törődsz magaddal,
Csak bánatoddal.
LEONATO
Hagyd el ezt a leckét!
Oly hasztalan zuhog fülembe, mint
Szitába víz. Ne adj nekem tanácsot!
Ne duruzsoljon senki így fülembe,
Míg nincs olyan fájdalma, mint nekem!
Mutass apát, ki így szerette lányát,
S ki boldogságát így vesztette el:
Ám intsen engem türelemre ő!
Vesd egybe gondját az én bánatommal,
Mérd össze sorsunk ízről ízre úgy,
Hogy kínra kín és bajra baj feleljen,
�Egyforma sorban, rendben, itt is, ott is:
S ha ő mosolyog, szakállát simítva,
Ő kurjant és kacag nyögés helyett,
Ő kúrálgatja bölcs szóval a kínt,
Ő fojtja borba búját fáklyafénynél Ám jöjjön: tőle tanulok türelmet!
De ilyen ember nincs. Az emberek
Tanácsot, vígaszt csak oly bajra tudnak,
Mit nem éreznek, Ha megízlelik:
Csak kín marad a jó tanács helyén,
Mely gyógyszert ígért őrjöngésre is,
Selyemszállal fékezte a dühöngőt,
S haláltusát szavakkal orvosolt.
Mindenki tud türelmet prédikálni
Bú terhe alatt kétrét görnyedőknek,
De senkiben sincs ugyaníly morál,
S erő, amikor mind ez a teher
Saját vállán van. Tartsd meg jó tanácsod:
Túlsírja kínom prédikációdat.
ANTONIO
Gyermek vagy férfi - ebben egyre megy.
LEONATO
Kérlek, hogy hallgass. Hús és vér vagyok;
S még filozófusok közt sincs olyan,
Ki csak fogfájást békén tűrne el Bár isteneknek nyelvén írja meg,
Hogy sorsnak, kínnak fittyet hányni illik.
�ANTONIO
Ne végy magadra minden szenvedést:
Viseljék terhét megbántóid is!
LEONATO
Most bölcsen szóltál: ezt meg kell fogadnom.
Azt súgja lelkem, Hero tiszta volt...
Hadd tudja ezt meg Claudio, s a herceg,
S mindenki, aki rágalmazni merte!
Don Pedro és Claudio közeleg
ANTONIO
Ni, hogy siet a herceg, s Claudio!
DON PEDRO
Jó'stét! Jó'stét!
CLAUDIO
Jóestét, uraim!
Sietnek tovább
LEONATO
Egy szóra csak...
DON PEDRO
Sietnék, Leonato.
LEONATO
�Siettek, fenség? Akkor Isten áldjon!
Épp most siettek! De hisz - egyre megy.
DON PEDRO
Ne kötekedj velünk, derék öreg.
ANTONIO
Ha kötekedve kell helyt állani:
Itt egyikünk ma elterül.
CLAUDIO
Ki bántja?
LEONATO
Te bántasz engem, te farizeus, te!
Csak ne tedd kezed a kardmarkolatra:
Nem félek tőled.
CLAUDIO
Törjön le kezem,
Ha ősz korodnak félni ád okot!
Véletlen volt az, hogy kardomra tettem.
LEONATO
Elég! Ne tréfálj itt, ne gúnyolódj!
Nem agyalágyult vén bolond beszél;
Nem éveimnek bástyája mögül
Dicsekszem, hogy ki voltam, és mi lenne,
Ha agg nem volnék! Tudd meg, Claudio:
Úgy megsértetted szűz lányom s magam,
�Hogy félretéve higgadtságomat,
Ősz fejjel, s évek terhével rakottan,
Kihívlak, állj helyt - férfi, férfi ellen!
Azt mondom: meggyaláztad szűz leányom!
Rágalmad tőrét forgattad szivében,
S pihen már ősök csontjai között,
Olyan kriptában, mely szégyent nem ismert,
Amíg gazságod vádat nem koholt!
CLAUDIO
Gazságom?!
LEONATO
Az! - kimondom kereken!
DON PEDRO
Nem jól beszélsz, öreg.
LEONATO
Uram! uram!
Bebizonyítom - s vére lesz pecsétem -,
Ha még oly szépen s mesterkedve vív is,
S mégúgy virít is vérmes ifjusága!
CLAUDIO
Hagyj engem békén: nincs dolgom veled.
LEONATO
Csak így leráznál? Lányom merted ölni:
Ha engem ölsz meg, fickó, férfit ölsz!
�ANTONIO
Kettőnket öljön - férfimunka lesz Ha lesz... De elsőbb eggyel boldoguljon!
Közéjük áll, s kardot ránt
No, kard ki, kard! - Álljon ki énvelem!
Gyerünk, kölyök! Gyerünk, gyerünk, kölyök!
Elhúzom én a nótád, csak cselezz El én, nemesi becsületszavamra!
LEONATO
De testvér...
ANTONIO
Hagyj! Isten látja, kishugom szerettem S megölték rágalommal senkiházik,
Kik úgy mernek csak férfival kiállni,
Amint én kígyót nyelvén fogni meg!
Majmok, pulyák, szájhősök, kóficok!
LEONATO
Antonio...
ANTONIO
Maradj békén! Eh, jól ismerem őket!
Megmértem súlyuk hajszálpontosan!
Pöffeszkedő, piperkőc ficsurak,
Hazudnak, csalnak, mocskolnak, gyaláznak,
�Komédiáznak, vágnak bősz pofákat,
Eldurrogatnak féltucat nagyesküt,
Hogy átdöfnék ellenfelük - ha mernék...
És ezzel vége!
LEONATO
Testvér!
ANTONIO
Eh - elég!
Ne szólj belé, ezt elintézem én.
DON PEDRO
Urak, mi nem szeretnénk ingerelni...
(Leonatóhoz)
Az én szivem is fáj lányod halálán;
De esküszöm, hogy igaz volt a vád,
És jó bizonyság szólt mellette nyilván.
LEONATO
Uram, uram...
DON PEDRO
Nem hallgatlak.
LEONATO
Nem-é?
Gyerünk innen, meghallgat minket ő még!
ANTONIO
�Meg ám! S valaki megkeserüli!
Leonato és Antonio a házba vonul.
Benedetto jön
DON PEDRO
No nézd csak, itt jön az, akit kerestünk!
CLAUDIO
Mi újság, signor?
BENEDETTO
Üdvözöllek, fenség!
DON PEDRO
Isten hozott, signor! Majdnem arra érkeztél, hogy szétválassz egy majdnem-összecsapást.
CLAUDIO
Már azon voltunk, hogy kipróbáljuk, le tudja-e harapni az orrunkat két fogatlan vénember.
DON PEDRO
Leonato meg a bátyja. Ehhez mit szólsz? Nem lettünk volna párviadalra ifjak a két vén
gyerekhez?
BENEDETTO
Igaztalan perben nincs értelme a vitézkedésnek. Éppen kettőtöket kereslek.
CLAUDIO
Mi is téged kerestünk már mindenütt, mert nagyon megszállt bennünket a melankólia: azt
szeretnénk, ha te űznéd el. Nem villogtatnád az eszed?
�BENEDETTO
Itt van, amit villogtassak, hüvelyében. Kihúzzam?
DON PEDRO
Övön hordod az eszed?
CLAUDIO
Övön senki sem hordja az eszét, de van, aki övön alul szúr vele. Sebaj, húzd csak elő a
szerszámod - úgy biztatlak, mint valami hegedűst - mert mulatni szeretnék.
DON PEDRO
Szavamra, sápadt! - Beteg vagy? Vagy haragszol?
CLAUDIO
Szedd össze magad, barátom! Nagy a feje, búsuljon a ló - de te vagy olyan legény, hogy lóvá
tedd a búbánatot.
BENEDETTO
Uram, sziporkázásban is kiállok veled bajra, ha épp énvelem gyűlt meg a bajod. Válassz új
témát, kérlek.
CLAUDIO
Püff neki! Adjatok markába hozzá új bökőt, mert ez a legutóbbi beletörött a bökésbe.
DON PEDRO
Esküszöm, egyre sápadtabb! Csakugyan dühös lehet.
CLAUDIO
Ha úgy van, tudja ő, mi a teendő.
BENEDETTO
Súghatnék egy szót a füledbe?
�CLAUDIO
Isten ments, hogy ebből kihívás legyen!
BENEDETTO
(fojtott hangon)
Rongy ember vagy - nem tréfálok. Hajlandó vagyok kiállni, ahogy óhajtod, amivel óhajtod,
amikor óhajtod. Állj helyt, vagy a szemedbe mondom, hogy: gyáva. Megöltél egy drága
hölgyet: haláláért még meglakolsz. (Fennhangon) Hadd hallom válaszod!
CLAUDIO
Állok elébe. Úgyis kívántam már valami jó mulatságot.
DON PEDRO
Lakoma készül, lakoma?
CLAUDIO
Az ám! - Köszönöm szépen - épp most hívott meg borjúfőre és kappanpecsenyére. Csorbuljon
ki a pengém, ha föl nem vágom derekasan! - Süketfajd nem lesz?
BENEDETTO
Ficánkol az eszed, uram, mert nem sokat nyom a latban.
DON PEDRO
Elmondom, hogy magasztalta Beatrice az eszedet múltkorában. Azt találtam mondani, hogy
szellemed finom. "Finom ám - vágja rá -, véknyan csörgedezik." - "Nem - mondom én -, nagy
szellem." - "Az ám - feleli -, otrombanagy." - "Nem - mondom én -, jó esze van." - "Jó ám feleli -, mert nem sok vizet zavar." "Nem - mondom én -, páratlan koponya." - "Páratlan hát mondja -, mert egy kereke hiányzik." - "Dehogyis - mondom én -, hisz több nyelven beszél." "Meghiszem azt - mondja -, amire hétfőn este megesküszik, azt kedd reggel letagadja: két
nyelve van, sőt kétágú nyelve!" Így kiforgatta egy óra alatt minden virtusodat; de végül csak
fölsóhajtott, s oda lyukadt ki, hogy te vagy a legremekebb férfi egész Itáliában!
CLAUDIO
�Erre aztán tiszta szívből sírva fakadt - s hozzátette, hogy neki ugyan édesmindegy.
DON PEDRO
Így volt, annyi szent, de hogyha nem gyűlölné halálosan Benedettót, akkor eszeveszetten
szeretné. Az öregúr lánya mindent elmondott.
CLAUDIO
Mindent, mindent! S tegyük hozzá: Isten szeme látta, mikor elbújt a kertben.
DON PEDRO
De vajon mikor rakhatjuk föl a vad bika szarvát a megszelídített Benedetto homlokára?
CLAUDIO
S alája a feliratot: "Itt látható Benedetto mint házasember?"
BENEDETTO
Isten veled, fiú! Ne feledd, mit mondtam. Itt hagylak: folytasd csak ezt az anyámasszonykatonája-fecsegést! Úgy villogtatod a sziporkáidat, mint a nagylegények a kardjukat, de a
sziporka - hál' istennek - senkiben sem tesz kárt. Fenség, köszönöm sok jóindulatodat: meg
kell válnom kíséretedtől. Öcséd, a fattyú, Messinából megszökött. Közös erővel megöltetek
egy ártatlan, drága hölgyet. Ezzel a csupasz állú ifiúrral még találkozunk - addig is: béke vele!
(Távozik)
DON PEDRO
Ez komolyan beszélt!
CLAUDIO
De milyen komolyan! S fogadni mernék: Beatrice szerelme szállt a fejébe.
DON PEDRO
Kihívott párbajra?
CLAUDIO
�Ki ő, kereken.
DON PEDRO
Mondhatom, csinos figura az ember, mikor zekéjét, nadrágját magára veszi, de az eszét otthon
hagyja!
CLAUDIO
Óriás a majomhoz mérve: de azért a majom valóságos professzor az ilyen emberekhez képest.
DON PEDRO
De csendesedj most, hadd szállok magamba... Nem azt mondta, hogy az öcsém megszökött?
Jön Lasponya, Furkó és az őrség Corradóval és Boracchióval
LASPONYA
Gyertek csak, urak, ha az Igazság istenasszonya ráncba nem szed benneteket, hát akkor akár
el is hajíthassa azt a híres mérlegjit! Akármilyen fene képmutatók vagytok is, mi majd a
képetekre mászunk!
DON PEDRO
Mi ez?... Öcsém két embere - megkötözve! Boracchio az egyik?...
CLAUDIO
Tudakold, fenség, hogy mit vétettek?
DON PEDRO
Őrség! Mit vétettek ezek az emberek?
LASPONYA
Hát, uram, először is hamis tanúvallomást tettek, de a tetejibe még valótlan hazugságot is
állítottak; másodszor is hitelvrontást követtek el; s hatodszor és utoljára rágalom alá helyeztek
egy kisasszonyt; harmadszor pediglen igazolatlanul bizonyítottak; s végezetül - hazudós
rongy emberek.
�DON PEDRO
Először is azt kérdem: mit követtek el? Harmadszor azt kérdem: mi a vétkük? Hatodszor és
utoljára: miért vannak fogságban? S végezetül: mi a vád ellenük?
CLAUDIO
Derekas taglalás: a megadott beosztás szerint. Szavamra mondom: egyértelmű, világos
gondolatmenet.
DON PEDRO
Ki ellen vétettetek, emberek, hogy így fognak benneteket vallatóra? Ez a tudós strázsamester
olyan akkurátus, hogy nem lehet eligazodni a szaván. Mi a vétketek?
BORACCHIO
Kegyes herceg, hadd legyen vége a vallatásnak. Tefenséged hallgasson ki - s ám öljön meg a
gróf! Megtévesztettem tefenséged szemét is: de amit még a ti bölcsességetek sem vett észre,
azt ezek az együgyű bolondok fölfedezték. Kihallgatták szavam ma éjjel, mikor ennek az
embernek elmondtam, hogyan bujtott fel testvéröcséd, Don Juan, Hero kisasszony
megrágalmazására... meg amikor elmondtam, hogyan vezették tefenségedet a kertbe, csak
hogy lássa Margarétát Herónak öltözve, s engem, amint édeskedem vele... s azt is, amikor
rátértem, hogyan fogadkozott a gróf, hogy megszégyeníti Herót az esküvőjén... Gazságom
jegyzőkönyvbe került, s inkább a vérem pecsételje meg, mint hogy szégyenszemre újabb
gazsággal tetézzem! A kisasszonyt sírba vitte a gazdám meg a magam hamis vádaskodása...
Száz szónak is egy a vége: nem kívánok én már semmit, csak azt, ami gazembernek kijár.
DON PEDRO
Nem úgy hasít ez beléd, mint a kard?
CLAUDIO
Mint mérget ittam mindenegy szavát!
DON PEDRO
Hát testvéröcsém bujtott erre föl?
BORACCHIO
�Ő - és busásan megfizette munkám.
DON PEDRO
A velejéig áruló bitang!
Meg is szökött a gonosztett után!
CLAUDIO
Te drága Hero! Képed úgy ragyog fel,
Mint akkor, amikor beléd szerettem!
LASPONYA
Na, vigyétek innen a dilikvenseket! Azóta már a mi notórius jegyzőnk kellő reformációt adott
signor Leonatónak a kázusról... Csak egyet el ne felejtsetek, urak: mihelyt lesz rá érkezéstek,
foglaljátok írásba, hogy szamár vagyok!
FURKÓ
Ehol ni, gyön nagyurunk, signor Leonato meg a jegyző!
Jön a házból Leonato és Antonio a jegyzővel
LEONATO
Melyik az a gaz? Hadd nézem meg arcát,
Hogy ha még egyszer látok ilyen embert,
Jól elkerüljem! Melyik köztük az?
BORACCHIO
Ha megrontód kivánod látni: rám nézz!
LEONATO
Te vagy, te pribék, ki leheleteddel
Megölted tiszta lányom?
�BORACCHIO
Én, csak én.
LEONATO
Nem csak te, gaz! Magad rágalmazod most.
Emitt áll még két tisztelt férfiú...
S egy elszelelt, ki szintén cinkosod volt. Urak! köszönöm leányom halálát.
Jegyezzétek föl hőstetteitek közt!
Ezt jól csináltátok, tagadhatatlan.
CLAUDIO
Nem is tudom, hogyan kérjem türelmed...
De szólanom kell. Te válaszd ki bosszud!
Találj bünömre olyan büntetést,
Milyet kivánsz. Bármit vétettem is,
Csak tévedésből...
DON PEDRO
Úgy éljek, hogy én is!
De hogy megenyhüljön e jó öreg,
Vállalnék bármily súlyos büntetést.
Mit ő kiszab rám.
LEONATO
Nem szabhatom rád, hogy lányom föléleszd,
Az lehetetlen. Azt kérem csupán:
Hirdessétek ki egész Messinában,
Mily ártatlan halt el Hero! - Te meg
�- Ha még megihlet bánatos szerelmed A kriptájára sírverset szegezz,
És énekeld azt csontjai felett
Az éjszakában... S jöjj házamba reggel:
Ha nem lehettél vőmmé, légy öcsémmé!
Van egy leánya testvéremnek is:
Szakasztott mása elhalt magzatomnak,
S mindkettőnk után ő lesz örökös...
Nyújtsd néki azt, mit Herónak kináltál S kialszik bosszúm.
CLAUDIO
Ó, nemes nagyúr!
Nagylelküséged könnyekre fakaszt.
Ajánlatod hálásan fogadom:
Tiéd az árva Claudio!
LEONATO
Várom tehát holnapra jöttödet.
Ma este búcsuzom. Még ezt a gazt
És Margarétát szembesíttetem.
Úgy látom én, a lány is cinkosuk:
Bátyád bérelte föl.
BORACCHIO
Lelkemre, nem!
Nem tudta, mit tesz, míg velem beszélt.
Ártatlanul és jóhiszemüen
Komédiázott - tanusíthatom.
�LASPONYA
Azonföllyül, meghiggyed, uram, még az sincs fölróva, hogy ez a dilikvens, ez a bűnöző itten
engemet szamárnak titulált. Kérlek alássan, hogy majd errül is tétessék említés az ítéletben.
Meg aztán az őrség hallotta, hogy ezek egy bizonyos Huncutról povedáltak. Aszondják, az a
fülibe egy karikán kulcsot meg lakatot visel, és Isten neviben pénzt vág ki az emberekbül hanem aztat sohanapján adja meg nekijek! Úgyhogy most már a népek igencsak
megkeményítették a szívüket, s nem adnak egy fabatkát se az Isten nevire. Kérlek alássan,
errül is faggassák ki!
LEONATO
Köszönöm gondod s tisztes fáradozásod.
LASPONYA
Tekegyelmed úgy szól, mint a háládatos és tisztességtudó ifjabb degenerációhoz illik dicsértessék érte az Úr neve!
LEONATO
Ezt tedd el fáradságodért.
LASPONYA
Isten adjon ezerannyit!
LEONATO
Elmehetsz. Leveszem válladról a foglyok gondját - köszönöm.
LASPONYA
Megrögzött cinkost hagyok itt tekegyelmeddel, s kérlek, uram, hogy te magad fenyítsd meg
másoknak okulására. Isten áldja kegyelmedet, minden jót kívánok kegyelmednek, Isten
tartson meg egészségben, ezennel alázatosan hozzájárulok a távozáshoz - és ha kívánatos ama
boldog találkozás, hát csak Isten őrizzen attul is. Gyerünk, szomszéd!
Lasponya és Furkó távozik
LEONATO
�Ég áldjon, urak, holnap reggelig!
ANTONIO
Ég áldjon! S holnap jöttök majd, urak!
DON PEDRO
Úgy lesz.
CLAUDIO
Ma éjjel Herót gyászolom.
Don Pedro és Claudio távozik
LEONATO
El a gazokkal! Szóljon Margaréta:
Hogyan sodródott össze egy latorral?
Leonato és Antonio a házba vonul; követi őket a jegyző s az őrség a foglyokkal
2. szín
Leonato kertje.
Jön Margaréta és Benedetto
BENEDETTO
Kérlek, édes Margaréta, járj a kezemre, segíts hozzá, hogy szólhassak Beatricével.
MARGARÉTA
Írsz érte egy magasztaló szonettet szépségemről?
�BENEDETTO
Írok én, s úgy fölmagasztallak, Margaréta, hogy élő ember föléd nem kerülhet - rá is
szolgálsz, igazán.
MARGARÉTA
Hogy ne kerüljön fölém élő ember? Hát örökké magányosan kucorogjak a sutban?
BENEDETTO
Jó szerszám az eszed: gyors, mint az agár, s harap is.
MARGARÉTA
Bezzeg a te szerszámod tompa, mint a játéktőr: bököd, de nem sért.
BENEDETTO
Lovagias szerszám, Margaréta: lányt nem akar sérteni... Kérlek, hívd már Beatricét - inkább
megadom magam, s lábadhoz teszem még a pajzsom is.
MARGARÉTA
Inkább a bökőd ajánlanád: pajzsunk nekünk is van.
BENEDETTO
Ha van, csak a bökő elé tartsátok - úgy veszedelmes a női szerszám.
MARGARÉTA
No, küldöm hát Beatricét - gondolom, neki is van lába.
BENEDETTO
Ha van, szedi majd szaporán!
Margaréta bemegy a házba.
�Benedetto énekel
Ámor isten,
Fönt a mennyben,
Ismer engem, ismer engem,
Tudja, míly bajban vagyok...
...Bajban ám, ha énekelni kell... De ha szerelemről van szó, mondhatom, Leánder, a legendás
úszóbajnok, vagy Troilus, a kerítők legelső kenyéradója, meg mind az a rengeteg sok hajdani
szoknyabolond - akiknek neve oly felségesen görög a jámbusoknak sima útjain - nem, egy se
kente-fente össze magát úgy a szerelem lépével, mint én, én szegény fejem! Rímekben,
bizony, el nem zenghetem - próbáltam... "Kedves" - erre csak azt találom, hogy: "nedves" pelenkás rím! "Gyötör" - erre meg az vág, hogy "ökör" - marha rím! "Oskola" - erre csak az
ugrik be: "ostoba" - bugyuta rím! Csupa szerencsétlen kádencia! Nem, hiába, nem születtem
poéták csillaga alatt. Én nem tudok ünnepélyes szólamokban udvarolni...
Jön Beatrice
Édes Beatrice, hát jössz, ha hívlak?
BEATRICE
Jövök, signor, s megyek, mihelyt kívánod.
BENEDETTO
Ó, akkor maradj!
BEATRICE
"Akkor" maradjak? Most hát búcsúzom. De mielőtt megindulok, hadd indulok meg azon is,
amit Claudióval végeztél - azért jöttem, hogy ezt halljam!
BENEDETTO
Kemény szavakat hallott tőlem - hadd csókollak hát meg!
�BEATRICE
A szó csak elszáll, mint a szél - bolond lukból bolond szél fú - bolond lukat nem csókolok,
tehát megyek - csók nélkül.
BENEDETTO
Kiforgatod szavaimat azzal a forgószéleszeddel! De hadd mondom meg világosan: Claudio
azóta megkapta kihívásomat, s hamarosan én is megkapom válaszát! - vagy ha nem: szemébe
vágom, hogy gyáva! De most mondd meg, kérlek: melyik rossz tulajdonságom gyújtott
szerelemre?
BEATRICE
Valamennyi. Mert azok együtt a rossznak olyan jól szervezett birodalmát alkotják, hogy
abban egy talpalatnyi hely sem jut jó tulajdonságnak. Hát te melyik jó tulajdonságom miatt
szenveded el a szerelmet?
BENEDETTO
Elszenvedem! Ez a szó telitalálat! Bizony, elszenvedem a szerelmet: akaratom ellenére
szerettem beléd.
BEATRICE
Szíved ellen, gondolom. Ha ellenségnek tekinted szíved: hadd gyűlölöm meg én is! - mert
nem venném a lelkemre, hogy szeressem azt, amit barátom gyűlöl.
BENEDETTO
Te is, én is, túlontúl okosak vagyunk ahhoz, hogy békésen valljunk szerelmet.
BEATRICE
Ebből a vallomásból nem sok okosság derül ki! Húsz bölcs ember közt egy sem akad, aki
önmagát dicsérné.
BENEDETTO
Régi, régi mondás ez, Beatrice, jámbor eleink korában járta jó szomszédok között. Aki
manapság nem csináltatja meg a síremlékét még életében, annak emlékezete csak addig él,
míg a harang szól, s az özvegy sír.
�BEATRICE
S az meddig tart, mit gondolsz?
BENEDETTO
Micsoda kérdés! Egy óráig a jajveszékelés, s még egy negyedóráig a könnyezés - ha náthás
nő. Épp ezért tanácsos, hogy a bölcs - ha csak a lelkiismeret férge nem furdalja - maga
kürtölje világgá a tulajdon érdemeit! Amint én is teszem. Ennyit az öndicséretről. Magam
tanúsítom, hogy rászolgálok! De mondd már hogy van kuzinod?
BEATRICE
Nagyon rosszul.
BENEDETTO
S te hogy vagy?
BEATRICE
Én is nagyon rosszul.
BENEDETTO
Bízz Istenben, szeress és gyógyulj meg! Megyek már, mert futva jön valaki.
Ursula sietve jön
URSULA
Kisasszonyom, siess bátyáduradhoz: nagy kavarodás van otthon. Kiderült, hogy Hero
kisasszonyt hamisan vádolták, a herceget meg Claudiót lépre csalták... Don Juan főzte ki az
egészet, de ő maga megszökött... Kérlek, jöjj azonnal!
BEATRICE
Nem jössz velem, signor, hírt hallani?
�BENEDETTO
Szívedben éljek, öledben haljak, szemedbe vesszek! Persze hogy megyek veled a
bácsikádhoz!
Mind bemennek a házba
3. szín
A kripta előtt.
Don Pedro, Claudio és kisérőik gyertyával jönnek
- velük Baltazár s a zenészek
CLAUDIO
Ez Leonato kriptaboltja itt?
EGY ÚR
Ez, jó uram.
CLAUDIO
(egy pergamenről olvassa)
Sírba vitte rágalom
Herót, aki itt pihen.
Úrrá lett a vádakon,
Holt porában, fényesen.
Életében lepte sár,
Most köríti fénysugár.
Zengje hírét versezet,
Majd ha én már nem leszek!
(A kriptára tűzi a pergament, majd int Baltazárnak)
Most zene szóljon, énekeld a gyászdalt!
�BALTAZÁR
(énekel)
Éj, fedezd el bűnömet!
Jaj, megöltük szűzedet!
Ünnepélyes gyászmenet
Zengjen könnyes éneket!
Éjfél, bús anyánk,
Jöjj, borúlj le ránk,
Gyászosan, gyászosan...
Ásíts, kriptabolt,
Sírba tér a holt,
Gyászosan, gyászosan...
CLAUDIO
Elnyugodhat hűlt porod,
Évről évre gyászolok.
DON PEDRO
Urak, jó reggelt! Fáklyát oltsatok!
Már farkas nem jár, virradat dereng,
S oszlatja szét a napszekér előtt
Álmos Keletnek ritkuló homályát.
Köszönjük, elmehettek: Isten áldjon!
CLAUDIO
Urak, bucsúzzunk: ki-ki elvonul.
DON PEDRO
Mi is menjünk, és öltsünk más ruhát:
�Vár Leonato még ma délelőtt.
CLAUDIO
A gyászra nász jön, s szebb jövőbe lát
A szem, mely eddig könnytől gyöngyözött.
Mind elvonulnak
4. szín
Csarnok Leonato házában.
Jön Leonato, Antonio, Benedetto, Ferenc barát,
Hero, Beatrice, Margaréta, Ursula
FERENC
Nem megmondtam, hogy ártatlan leányod?
LEONATO
Ártatlan Claudio s a herceg is:
Egy megtévesztés áldozatai.
De Margaréta részes volt az ügyben
- Bár akaratlanul vétett -, amint
Ez kiderült a vizsgálat során.
ANTONIO
Boldog vagyok, hogy minden jóra fordult.
BENEDETTO
De én is, mert adott szavam szerint
�Meg kellett volna vívnom Claudióval.
LEONATO
Nos, lányom, és ti is, nemes komornák,
Húzódjatok be egy másik szobába,
S ha hívunk, jertek majd álarcosan!
Ez órában jön Claudio s a herceg Amint igérték...
(Antonióhoz)
Tudod tisztedet:
Testvéred lányának leszel ma apja,
S az ifju Claudiónak szánod őt.
ANTONIO
Szemrebbenés nélkül hozzáadom.
BENEDETTO
Atyám, kérnem kell majd szolgálatod...
FERENC
Miben, signor?
BENEDETTO
Hogy egybeköss... vagy gúzsba...
így vagy úgy...
- Signor Leonato... úgy igaz, signor,
Hogy húgod jó szemmel tekint reám...
LEONATO
S lányom szemelt ki néki. Így igaz!
�BENEDETTO
S én rá szerelmes szemmel visszanézek.
LEONATO
S a herceg, Claudio meg jómagam
Szemed szemmel tartottuk. Mit kivánsz hát?
BENEDETTO
Talányos volt, amit mondtál, signor.
Hogy mit kivánok?... Hogy te is kivált
Kivánd, amit kivánok... hogy ma itt
A házasok tisztes sorába lépjek (Ferenchez fordul)
Ehhez kérem segítséged, barát!
LEONATO
Szívből kivánom.
FERENC
S én segítelek.
De jön már hercegünk és Claudio!
Jön Don Pedro és Claudio kísérő urakkal
DON PEDRO
Szép jó reggelt e szép gyülekezetnek!
LEONATO
Szép jó reggelt fenségednek s a grófnak!
�(Claudióhoz)
Vártunk reád. Rászántad hát magad,
Hogy testvérem lányával frigyre lépsz ma?
CLAUDIO
Állnám szavam, ha szerecsen leány is.
LEONATO
Hívd őt, Antonio, már itt a pap.
Antonio távozik
DON PEDRO
Jó reggelt, Benedetto! Ej, mi lelt,
Hogy február borong a képeden,
Merő zimankó, felleg és vihar?
CLAUDIO
A szilaj bika juthatott eszébe...
Ne félj, aranygomb lesz a szarvadon,
S egész Európa ünnepelni fog,
Mint Juppitert Európa ősanyánk,
Midőn a szent barom hátára szállt!
BENEDETTO
Csodásan bőgött Juppiter-bika,
S ilyen bikának kellett hágnia
Atyád párját is, mert a borja, lám,
Szádon keresztül épp úgy bőg reám.
�Antonio visszatér az álarcos hölgyekkel
CLAUDIO
Még számolunk! - De rám is számadás vár.
Melyik hölgy az én jövendőbelim?
ANTONIO
Ő az - s ezennel átadom neked.
CLAUDIO
Enyém tehát. - Kedves, mutasd meg arcod!
LEONATO
Azt nem lehet, míg kézen fogva őt,
Nem esküszöl meg pap előtt vele.
CLAUDIO
Nyújtsd hát kezed e szent barát előtt:
Hites társad vagyok, ha elfogadsz.
HERO
Én voltam első asszonyod, míg éltem
S te voltál első férjem - míg szerettél.
(Leveszi álarcát)
CLAUDIO
Egy másik Hero!
HERO
Az vagyok valóban.
�Egy Herót szennybe öltek. Élek én.
S amily való, hogy élek: lány vagyok.
DON PEDRO
A régi Hero! Hero, aki meghalt!
LEONATO
Csak addig volt ő holt, míg élt a vád.
FERENC
Véget vetek megdöbbenéseteknek:
Mihelyt a szertartásnak vége lesz,
Elmondom bőven, Hero holta mint volt.
De addig - szokjátok meg a csodát!
S vonuljunk most a kápolnába tüstént!
BENEDETTO
Lassan, barát! Melyik Beatrice?
BEATRICE
(leveszi álarcát)
Engem neveznek úgy. Nos, mit kivánsz?
BENEDETTO
Te nem szeretsz?
BEATRICE
Nem jobban, mint tanácsos.
BENEDETTO
�Akkor bátyád s a herceg s Claudio
Tévedtek, mert esküdtek, hogy - imádsz.
BEATRICE
Te sem szeretsz?
BENEDETTO
Nem jobban, mint tanácsos.
BEATRICE
Akkor hugom meg Margaréta s Ursula
Szintúgy tévedtek, mikor esküdöztek.
BENEDETTO
Esküdtek, hogy te értem elepedsz.
BEATRICE
Esküdtek, hogy te értem meggebedsz.
BENEDETTO
Szó sincsen arról. Tehát nem szeretsz?
BEATRICE
Nem, csak viszonzom barátságodat.
LEONATO
De húgom, jól tudom, hogy szereted!
CLAUDIO
És őt is Benedetto - esküszöm!
�Itt egy lapon barátunk kézirása:
Saját gyártmányú döcögős szonett Beatricéhez esd!
HERO
S itt egy levél
Kuzin zsebéből - saját kézirása, Ez Benedettóhoz fohászkodik!
BENEDETTO
Csoda! Önkezünk tör önszívünk ellen! Gyere hát, elveszlek - de esküszöm a fényes napra:
könyörületből teszem!
BEATRICE
Nem kosarazhatlak ki. De a napvilágra mondom: csak a heves unszolásnak engedek!
Életmentés ez: megsúgták nekem, hogy már dögrováson vagy.
BENEDETTO
Elég! Majd betapasztom én a szád!
(Megcsókolja)
DON PEDRO
Hogy ízlik a házasság, Benedetto?
BENEDETTO
Mondok valamit, hercegem. Egy egész kollégiumra való fúrt agyú diák se tudna engem úgy
ugratni, hogy a sodromból kijöjjek. Azt hiszed, törődöm én holmi szatírákkal meg
epigrammákkal? Hisz ha ilyen elmeszüleményekkel tönkre lehet tenni valakit, akkor meg se
merne fordulni az ember egy csinos rokolya után! Egyszóval: ha énnekem házasodni tetszik,
akkor nem érdekel, hogy a világnak mit tetszik szólni hozzá! Sose piszkáljatok azzal, hogy
eddig milyen csökönyös voltam, mert az ember változandó - punktum! Hogy rólad is szóljak,
Claudio: össze akartalak kaszabolni, de most már, úgy látom, sógorságba keveredtünk, hát
csak maradj egy darabban, s jól szeresd meg a sógorasszonykámat!
�CLAUDIO
Már reméltem, hogy faképnél hagyod Beatricét, mert akkor én egy fütykössel úgy
átsegítettelek volna a másvilágra, hogy kapkodhattál volna a magad fütyköséhez... De hisz
kapkodhatsz ahhoz így is, mert a sógorasszonykám sincs fából!
BENEDETTO
Hagyd el! Cimborák vagyunk! Táncoljunk egyet esküvő előtt, hogy könnyítsünk a szívünkön
- meg a párunk cipellőjén!
LEONATO
Táncolni ráérünk utána is.
BENEDETTO
Csakazértis előtte! - Húzd rá! - Ej, hercegem, de savanyú vagy! Asszonyt, asszonyt szerezz!
Akkor kerül majd jó kézbe a fenséges pálcád!
Követ jön
KÖVET
Fenség, elfogták útján Don Juant,
S fegyver közt hozták vissza Messinába.
BENEDETTO
Ne gondolj ezzel holnapig! Ne félj,
Javaslok majd jó büntetést! - Zenét, hej!
Zene, tánc
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
<em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em>
Subject
The topic of the resource
A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói
Description
An account of the resource
A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Almási Zsolt
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Almási Zsolt
Language
A language of the resource
magyar és angol
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Könyv
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Sok hűhó semmiért (Mészöly, 1987)
Subject
The topic of the resource
Much Ado about Nothing 20. századi magyar fordítása.
Description
An account of the resource
Digitális, betűhív átirata Mészöly Dezső fordításának.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
William Shakespeare
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Sok hűhó semmiért Budapest, Európa Kiadó, 1987.
Magyar Elektronikus Könyvtár
http://mek.oszk.hu/00500/00573/
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Európa Kiadó
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1987.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mészöly Dezső
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
pdf
Language
A language of the resource
magyar
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Könyv
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Budapest
License
A legal document giving official permission to do something with the resource.
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Medium
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Könyv
Bibliographic Citation
A bibliographic reference for the resource. Recommended practice is to include sufficient bibliographic detail to identify the resource as unambiguously as possible.
Budapest, Európa Kiadó, 1987.
Zotero
Author
William Shakespeare
Book Author
William Shakespeare
Translator
Mészöly Dezső
ISBN
963074256X
Book Title
Sok hűhó semmiért
Date
1987.
Genre
Komédia
Language
magyar
Medium
Könyv
Num Pages
170
Place
Budapest
Rights
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URL
http://mek.oszk.hu/00500/00573/
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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.
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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;
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�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,
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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.
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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
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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,
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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
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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—
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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,
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�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.
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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.
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�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
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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.
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�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.
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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?
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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,
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�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?
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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
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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!
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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
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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,
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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
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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
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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.
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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,
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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.
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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.
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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
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�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.
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He exits.
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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.
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�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.
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Enter Messenger.
What is your tidings?
MESSENGER
The King comes here tonight.
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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,
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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
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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.
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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,
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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
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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.
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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.
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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,
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�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.
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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
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�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,
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�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.
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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.
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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
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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,
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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
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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.
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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.
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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?
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�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
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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.
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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
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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?
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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,
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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.
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Knock.
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Knock.
Wake Duncan with thy knocking. I would thou
couldst.
Scene 3
Knocking within. Enter a Porter.
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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!
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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?
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Enter Macbeth.
Our knocking has awaked him. Here he comes.
LENNOX
Good morrow, noble sir.
MACBETH Good morrow, both.
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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.
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Macduff exits.
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Enter Macduff.
MACDUFF O horror, horror, horror!
Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee!
MACBETH AND LENNOX What’s the matter?
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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?
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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!
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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,
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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
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�Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
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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
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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
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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.
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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
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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.
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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.
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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,
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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
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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.
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10
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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,
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35
40
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�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.
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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,
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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.
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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
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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.
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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.
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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.
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�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
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�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.
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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
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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!
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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,
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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
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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!
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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,
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�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
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�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,
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�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.
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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.
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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
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�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.
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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
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�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,
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�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.
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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.
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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
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�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,
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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!
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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.
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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.
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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
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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
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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
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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?
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�LENNOX
For certain, sir, he is not. I have a file
Of all the gentry. There is Siward’s son
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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
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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.
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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.
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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
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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
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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.
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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.
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�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!
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Servant exits.
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Enter Seyton.
SEYTON
What’s your gracious pleasure?
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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.
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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?
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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,
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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?
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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
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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,
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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
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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,
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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
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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.
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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.
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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!
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�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.
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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.
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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
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Digitalizált könyvek, színházi előadások, filmek
Publisher
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Almási Zsolt
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Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! - Így add tovább! 2.5 Magyarország Licenc
Language
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magyar
angol
License
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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
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Barbara A. Mowat
Paul Werstine
Rights
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Ez a Mű a Creative Commons Nevezd meg! - Ne add el! 4.0 Nemzetközi Licenc feltételeinek megfelelően felhasználható.
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pdf
könyv
Language
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angol
Type
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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/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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
�
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<em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em>
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A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói
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A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi
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Almási Zsolt
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Much Ado About Nothing (Theobald, 1733)
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18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Lewis Theobald
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William Shakespeare
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https://archive.org/details/worksofshakespe01shak
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1733
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Papp Gréta (digitális átirat gondozása)
Dobos Bence (digitális átirat gondozása)
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komédia
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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
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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/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.
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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.
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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.
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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.]
�
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<em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em>
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A<em> Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma verziói
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A <em>Sok hűhó semmiért</em> című dráma angol és magyar szövegváltozatai, színházi és filmes adaptációi
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Almási Zsolt
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magyar és angol
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Much Ado About Nothing (Rowe, 1709)
Subject
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18. századi szövegváltozat, szerkesztője Nicholas Rowe.
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William Shakespeare
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https://archive.org/details/worksmrwilliams02rowegoog
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1709
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Nicholas Rowe (szerkesztő)
Zsirka Richárd (digitális átirat gondozója)
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pdf
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angol
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komédia
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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.
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Author
William Shakespeare
Editor
Nicholas Rowe
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Digitális könyv
Book Title
Much Ado About Nothing
Date
1709
First Page
320
Genre
Komédia
Language
angol
Medium
Könyv
Num Pages
70
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6
Pages
320-388
Place
London
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Jacob Tonson
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Volume
1
-
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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
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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
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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
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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/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