Much Ado About Nothing (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Actus Secundus.
415
Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and
¶Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.
¶Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer
420can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after.
¶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
¶Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Sig-
¶nior Benedicks face.
¶Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and
¶woman in the world, if he could get her good will.
¶Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a
¶hornes.
¶euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a
¶beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen.
445beard.
¶my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he
¶that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath
¶not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in ear-
¶nest of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell.
¶Leon. Well then, goe you into hell.
¶Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill
455meete 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. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee
¶where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as
460the day is long.
¶father.
¶with a husband.
470tall then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouer-
¶her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none:
¶to match in my kinred.
475Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the
¶Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your an-
¶swere.
¶be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too impor-
¶out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, &
¶repenting, is as a Scotch ijgge, a measure, and a cinque-
¶repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-
490by 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.
495Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend?
¶nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I
¶walke away.
¶Pedro. With me in your company.
¶Hero. When I like your fauour, for God defend the
505is Loue.
¶Bene. Well, I would you did like me.
510manie ill qualities.
¶Bene. Which is one?
¶Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.
¶Mar. God match me with a good dauncer.
515Balt. Amen.
¶daunce is done: answer Clarke.
¶Vrsula. I know you well enough, you are Signior An-
520thonio.
¶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.
525you 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
530to, mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's
¶an end.
¶Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
535Bened. Not now.
¶wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signi-
¶Bene. What's he?
¶Bene. Not I, beleeue me.
¶Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh?
¶Bene. I pray you what is he?
¶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
550boorded me.
¶Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what
¶you say.
¶on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd
555at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Par-
¶night. We must follow the Leaders.
¶Ben. In euery good thing.
¶Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them
560at 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.
565Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bea-
¶ring.
¶Clau. You know me well, I am hee.
¶Iohn. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his
¶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?
¶to night.
¶But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio:
¶Saue in the Office and affaires of loue:
¶Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues.
¶Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe,
585And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch,
¶This is an accident of hourely proofe,
¶
Enter Benedicke.
590Ben. Count Claudio.
¶Ben. Come, will you go with me?
¶Clau. Whither?
¶Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own bu-
¶land off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or
¶weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.
¶they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold
¶haue serued you thus?
¶Clau. I pray you leaue me.
¶Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into
¶not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe
¶be reuenged as I may.
615
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
620Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your
¶grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered
¶him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a
¶garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as be-
¶ing worthy to be whipt.
625Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault?
¶companion, and he steales it.
¶made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue
¶to the owner.
¶Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the
¶wrong'd by you.
¶an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue an-
645with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my
650poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were
¶as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere
¶marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam
655Hercules 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
¶is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary,
¶followes her.
¶
Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.
¶will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch
670you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any em-
¶conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment
¶for me?
¶dure this Lady tongue.
Exit.
¶Signior Benedicke.
¶Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I
¶once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore
¶Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put
¶him downe.
¶I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought
¶Claud. Neither, my Lord.
¶nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and some-
¶thing of a iealous complexion.
695Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true,
¶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
700thee 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.
¶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.
¶Pedro. In faith Lady you haue a merry heart.
¶Beatr. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes
¶that he is in my heart.
¶Beat. Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one
¶ner and cry, heigh ho for a husband.
¶Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
720Beat. 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.
725working-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.
730in a merry howre.
¶sins God giue you ioy.
735you of?
¶Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.
¶
Exit Beatrice.
¶Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her
¶laughing.
¶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.
750Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to
¶Church?
¶Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches,
¶till Loue haue all his rites.
¶all things answer minde.
¶thing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe
¶dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Her-
760cules 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
¶ten nights watchings.
¶Claud. And I my Lord.
¶Prin. And you to gentle Hero?
¶that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble
¶teach you how to humour your co
sin, that shee shall fall
775in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will
¶Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Ar-
¶cher, his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely loue-
780gods, goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
Exit.
