Much Ado About Nothing (Quarto 1, 1600)
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¶
Enter Leonato and his brother.
2085Nor let no comforter delight mine eare,
¶Bring me a father that so lou'd his child,
¶Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmd like mine,
¶And bid him speake of patience,
2090Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine,
¶In euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme:
¶Patch griefe with prouerbes, make misfortune drunke,
¶With candle-wasters: bring him yet to me,
¶And I of him will gather patience:
¶But there is no such man, for brother, men
¶Would giue preceptiall medcine to rage,
2105Charme ach with ayre, and agony with words,
¶No, no, tis all mens office, to speake patience
¶But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie
¶My griefes crie lowder then aduertisement.
¶Brother Therein do men from children nothing differ.
¶For there was neuer yet Philosopher,
2115That could endure the tooth-ake patiently,
¶How euer they haue writ the stile of gods,
¶My soule doth tell me, Hero is belied,
¶And all of them that thus dishonour her.
¶
Enter Prince and Claudio.
¶Prince Good den, good den.
¶Claudio Good day to both of you.
¶Leonato Heare you my Lords?
¶Prince Nay do not quarrel with vs, good old man.
¶Some of vs would lie low.
2135Claudio Who wrongs him?
¶Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword,
¶I feare thee not.
¶Infaith my hand meant nothing to my sword.
¶I speake not like a dotard, nor a foole,
¶As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge,
2145What I haue done being yong, or what would doe,
¶Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head,
¶That I am forst to lay my reuerence by,
¶And with grey haires and bruise of many daies,
2150Do challenge thee to triall of a man,
¶Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
2155Saue this of hers, framde by thy villanie.
¶Claudio My villany?
¶Leonato My Lord, my Lord,
2160Ile prooue it on his body if he dare,
¶His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood.
¶Claudio Away, I will not haue to doe with you.
¶But thats no matter, let him kill one first:
¶Win me and weare me, let him answer me,
¶Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me
2170Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence,
¶Nay, as I am a gentleman I, will.
¶Leonato Brother.
2175That dare as well answer a man indeed.
¶As I dare take a serpent by the tongue,
¶Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops.
¶Leonato Brother Anthony.
¶Brother Hold you content, what man! I know them, yea
¶Scambling out-facing, fashion-monging boies,
¶That lie, and cogge, and flout, depraue, and slaunder,
¶And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words,
2185How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst,
¶And this is all.
¶Leonato But brother Anthonie.
¶Brother Come tis no matter,
¶Do not you meddle, let me deale in this.
2190Prince Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience,
¶My heart is sory for your daughters death:
¶But on my honour she was chargde with nothing
¶But what was true, and very full of proofe.
¶Leonato My Lord, my Lord.
2195Prince I will not heare you.
¶Bened. Good day my Lord:
¶most a fray.
¶with two old men without teeth.
¶fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for them.
¶seeke you both.
¶are high proofe melancholie, and would faine haue it beaten
¶away, wilt thou vse thy wit?
¶draw to pleasure vs.
¶sicke, or angry?
¶Claud. What, courage man: what though care kild a catte,
¶thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
¶Prince By this light, he chaunges more and more, I thinke
2230he be angry indeed.
¶Claud. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle.
2235howe you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: doe
¶heare from you.
¶Claud. I faith I thanke him he hath bid me to a calues head
¶kniffe's naught, shall I not find a woodcocke too?
¶ning, theres a double tongue theirs two tongues, thus did shee
2260red not.
¶not hate him deadly, she would loue him dearely, the old mans
¶daughter told vs all.
2265hid in the garden.
¶Clau. Yea and text vnder-neath, here dwells Benedick the
¶married man.
2270Bened. Fare you wel, boy, you know my minde, I wil leaue
¶gards do their blades, which God be thanked hurt not: my
2275you haue among you, kild a sweet and innocent lady: for
¶my Lord Lacke-beard, there hee and I shal meet, and till then
¶peace be with him.
¶the loue of Beatrice.
¶Prince And hath challengde thee.
¶Prince What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his
2285dublet and hose, and leaues off his wit!
¶
Enter Constables, Conrade, and Borachio.
¶Claudio He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a
¶Doctor to such a man.
¶nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and you be a
¶Prince How now, two of my brothers men bound? Bora-
2295chio one.
¶Claudio Hearken after their offence my Lord.
¶refied vniust thinges, and to conclude, they are lying knaues.
2305mitted, and to conclude, what you lay to their charge.
¶my troth theres one meaning wel suted.
¶to be vnderstood, whats your offence?
¶do you heare me, and let this Counte kill me: I haue deceiued
¶brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in He-
¶hir: my villany they haue vpon record, which I had rather seale
¶with my death, then repeate ouer to my shame: the lady is dead
¶sire nothing but the reward of a villaine.
¶bloud?
¶And fled he is vpon this villanie.
¶Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare
2335Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time our
¶sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and ma-
2340sexton too.
¶
Enter Leonato, his brother, and the Sexton.
¶That when I note another man like him,
¶I may auoide him: which of these is he?
2345Bor. If you would know your wronger, looke on me.
¶Mine innocent child?
¶Bor. Yea, euen I alone.
2350Here stand a paire of honourable men,
¶A third is fled that had a hand in it:
¶I thanke you Princes for my daughters death,
¶Record it with your high and worthy deeds,
¶Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it.
2355Clau. I know not how to pray your pacience,
¶Impose me to what penance your inuention
¶But in mistaking.
¶I would bend vnder any heauy waight,
¶That heele enioyne me to.
¶Leonato I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue,
¶How innocent she died, and if your loue
¶Can labour aught in sad inuention,
¶Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb,
¶To morrow morning come you to my house,
¶Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter,
¶Almost the copie of my child thats dead,
2375And she alone is heyre to both of vs,
¶And so dies my reuenge.
¶For henceforth of poore Claudio.
¶Leonato To morrow then I wil expect your comming,
¶To night I take my leaue, this naughty man
¶Shal face to face be brought to Margaret,
2385Who I beleeue was packt in al this wrong,
¶Hyred to it by your brother.
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,
¶But alwayes hath bin iust and vertuous,
2390In any thing that I do know by her.
¶the watch heard them talke of one Deformed, they say he
2395weares a key in his eare and a locke hanging by it, and borows
¶paied, that now men grow hard hearted and wil lend nothing
¶for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point.
¶uerent youth, and I praise God for you.
¶Leon. Theres for thy paines.
¶thee.
2410God restore you to health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart
¶and if a merie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come
¶neighbour.
¶Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.
¶Brot. Farewell my lords, we looke for you to morrow.
¶Prince We will not faile.
¶Claud. To night ile mourne with Hero.
¶garet, how her acquaintance grew with this lewd felow.
exeunt
