Much adoe about Nothing

William Shakespeare

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  • Much adoe about Nothing
  • Much adoe about Nothing

    Actus primus, Scena prima.


    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 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 Peter
    hath bestowed much honor 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 Lambe, the
    feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expectation,
    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 bitternesse


       Leo. Did he breake out into teares?
      Mess. In great measure


       Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces
    truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much better
    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 meete 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 conflict,
    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 y next 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


       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 turne-coate, but it is certaine
    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 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 hee is no hypocrite, but
    praies from his heart


       Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be forsworne,
    let mee bid 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 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 signior
    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 neuer
    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 followed
    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 allegiance,
    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 loued,
    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 despight
    of Beautie


       Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the
    force of his will
      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 shoulder,
    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 Leonatoes,
    commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile
    him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation


       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.


    Enter.


      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,
    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 beganst 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 y bridge 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.


    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 discouered
    to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daughter,
    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 appeare
    it selfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall,
    that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture
    this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coosins,
    you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie
    friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill,
    good cosin haue a care this busie time.


    Exeunt.


    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 bringeth
    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 medicine,
    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 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 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 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 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.


    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 Signior
    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 earnest
    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[aint]. 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 curtsie,
    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 mettall
    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 answere


       Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you
    be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too important,
    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 cinquepace:
    the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge
    (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 cinquepace
    faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue


       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 Anthonio


       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 Signior
    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 Partridge
    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 bearing


       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 businesse,
    Count. What fashion will you weare the Garland
    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.
    Enter.


      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?
      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 being
    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 answered
    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 impossible
    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 embassage
    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 indure
    this Lady tongue.
    Enter.


      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 something
    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. In faith 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 corner
    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 merry,
    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: cosins
    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, 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


       Leonato. 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 breathing,
    but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe
    dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules
    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 assistance
    as I shall giue you direction


       Leonato. 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 Archer,
    his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely louegods,
    goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
    Enter.


    Enter Iohn and Borachio.


      Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter
    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 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 marriage?
      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 any
    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 reputation,
    who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance
    of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely
    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 ducates


       Bor. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning
    shall not shame me


       Iohn. I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage.
    Enter.


    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.
    Enter.


      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 dublet:
    he was wont to speake plaine, &to the purpose (like
    an honest man &a souldier) and now is he turn'd orthography,
    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 vertuous,
    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 neuer
    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 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,


       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 after
    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 neuer
    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 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 neere the life of passion as she discouers
    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 Benedicke:
      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 vertuous


       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, '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 daughter,
    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 anothers
    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 neuer
    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 reprooue
    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.
    Enter.


      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.
    Enter.


    Actus Tertius.


    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,
    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.
    Enter.


      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.
    Enter.


    Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.


      Prince. I doe but stay till your marriage be consummate,
    and then go I toward Arragon


       Clau. Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchsafe
    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 alreadie
    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


       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 signior,
    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 morrow?
      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 discouer
    it


       Bast. You may thinke 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 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 wickednesse,
    I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse
    title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant:
    goe but with mee to night, you shal see her chamber
    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.
    Enter.


    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, neighbour
    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 lanthorne:
    this is your charge: You shall comprehend all
    vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Princes
    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 himselfe
    what he is, and steale out of your company


       Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful ma[n] partner


       Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog 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 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 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. 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 neighbour


       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 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 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 anie
    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 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 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 Hotblouds,
    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 chamberwindow,
    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 Margaret 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 villanie,
    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 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 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 warrant
    you,
      Conr. Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey
    you to goe with vs


       Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being
    taken vp of these mens bils


       Conr. A commoditie 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


       Vrsu. I will Lady


       Her. And bid her come hither


       Vrs. Well


       Mar. 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 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


       Hero. O that exceedes they say


       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 vnderborn
    with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint gracefull
    and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't


       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?
      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 thinking
    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 prick'st her with a thissell


       Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some morall
    in this benedictus


       Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaning,
    I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance
    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, signior
    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.
    Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.


      Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neighbour?
      Const.Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence
    with you, that decernes you nearely


       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 liuing,
    that is an old man, and no honester then I


       Con.Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour
    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 Worship
    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, excepting 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 worshipt,
    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 indeede
    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.
    Enter.


      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:
    heere's that shall driue some to a non-come, only
    get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication,
    and meet me at the Iaile.


    Exeunt.


    Actus Quartus.


    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 particular
    duties afterwards


       Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady


       Clau. No


       Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie
    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 proofe,
    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 daughter,
    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


       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 noting
    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 seale 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 throughly


       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, 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.
    Enter.


      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 protest
    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 about
    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 market-place


       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 testimonie,
    a goodly Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant surelie,
    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 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 woman
    with grieuing


       Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee


       Beat. Vse it for my loue some other way then swearing
    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 Claudio
    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.
    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 examined,
    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: maisters,
    doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued alreadie
    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 examine,
    you must call forth the watch that are their accusers


       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 Dukates
    of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully


       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 euerlasting
    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 Constable,
    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 y I am an
    asse: No thou villaine, y 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 houshoulder,
    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 handsome
    about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ
    downe an asse!
    Enter.


    Actus Quintus.


    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 ouer-whelmed 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 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 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 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 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 y 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 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, milke-sops


       Leon. Brother Anthony


       Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea
    And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple,
    Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging 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 minstrels,
    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 subiect


       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 curiously,
    say my knife's naught, shall I not finde a woodcocke
    too?
      Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily


       Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other
    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 trans-shape thy particular vertues,
    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 vnderneath, heere dwells Benedicke
    the married man


       Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will
    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 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 Lackebeard
    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? Borachio
    one


       Clau. Harken after their offence my Lord


       Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done?
      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 answere:
    do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee: I
    haue deceiued euen your verie eies: what your wisedomes
    could not discouer, these shallow fooles haue
    brought to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing
    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 disgrac'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 would 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 punishment,
    and also the watch heard them talke of one Deformed,
    they say he weares a key in his eare and a lock hanging
    by it, and borrowes monie in Gods name, the which
    he hath vs'd so long, and neuer paied, that now men grow
    hard-harted 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 merrie
    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 morrow


       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.


    Enter Benedicke and Margaret.


      Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue
    well at my hands, by helping mee to the speech of Beatrice


       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 deseruest
    it


       Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I alwaies
    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 pittifull
    I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander
    the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of
    pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers,
    whose name yet runne smoothly in the euen
    rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so truely
    turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: marrie
    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 riming
    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 knowing
    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, therefore
    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 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 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 indeede,
    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 peaceablie


       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 quarter
    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, yonders
    old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie Hero
    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 buried
    in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to
    thy Vncles.


    Exeunt.


    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 guerdon 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 this for whom we rendred vp this woe.


    Exeunt.


    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, &Claudio,
    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 wel-nye 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 gentlema[n]


       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 witte-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 against
    it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said
    against it: for man is a giddy 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 vnbruis'd,
    and loue my cousin


       Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y
    I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make
    thee a double dealer, which out of questio[n] 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.


    FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing.