Much Ado About Nothing (Quarto 1, 1600)
Not Peer Reviewed
Much adoe about
Nothing.
As it hath been sundrie times publikely
acted by the right honourable, the Lord
Chamberlaine his seruants.
Written by William Shakespeare.
LONDON
Printed by V.S. for Andrew Wise, and
William Aspley.
1600.
Much adoe about
Nothing.
¶
Enter Leonato gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero
¶
his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, with a
messenger.
¶
Leonato.
5I Learne in this letter, that don Peter of Arragon
¶Mess. He is very neare by this, he was not three
¶leagues off when I left him.
¶home ful numbers: I find here, that don Peter hath bestowed
¶much honour on a yong Florentine called Claudio.
¶his age, doing in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion, he hath
¶indeed better bettred expectation then you must expect of me
20to tell you how.
¶glad of it.
¶Leo. Did he breake out into teares?
¶ioy, then to ioy at weeping?
¶Beatr. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returnd from the
¶warres or no?
¶Messen. I know none of that name, ladie, there was none
40Cupid at the Flight, and my vncles foole reading the chalenge
¶pray you, how many hath he kild and eaten in these warres?
¶but how many hath he kild? for indeede I promised to eate all
¶of his killing.
45Leo. Faith neece you taxe Signior Benedicke too much,
¶but heele be meet with you, I doubt it not.
50macke.
¶Lord?
55rable vertues.
¶the stuffing wel, we are al mortall.
¶of mery warre betwixt Signior Benedicke and her, they neuer
¶fiue wits went halting off, and now is the whole man gouernd
¶ble creature, who is his companion now? he hath euery month
¶a new sworne brother.
¶shion of his hat, it euer changes with the next blocke.
¶you who is his companion? is there no yong squarer now that
¶will make a voyage with him to the diuell?
80dio.
¶ly madde, God help the noble Claudio, if he haue caught the
¶Mess. I will holde friends with you Ladie.
¶Beat. Do good friend.
¶Leon. You will neuer runne madde niece.
¶Beat. No, not till a hote Ianuary.
90Mess. Don Pedro is approacht.
¶
Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar
¶and Iohn the bastard.
95counter it.
¶your grace, for trouble being gone, comfort should remaine:
¶but when you depart from mee, sorrow abides, and happines
¶takes his leaue.
100Pedro You embrace your charge too willingly: I thincke
¶this is your daughter.
¶Leonato Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a child.
¶what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her selfe:
¶be happy Lady, for you are like an honourable father.
¶dicke, no body markes you.
¶loued of all Ladies, onelie you excepted: and I would I could
¶finde in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truely I loue
¶none.
¶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.
¶a face as yours were.
135Bene. Well, you are a rare parrat teacher.
¶so good a continuer, but keep your way a Gods name, I haue
140done.
¶Beat. You alwayes end with a iades tricke, I knowe you of
¶olde.
¶and signior Benedicke, my deere friend Leonato, hath inuited
¶sweare he is no hypocrite, but praies from his heart.
150let mee bidde you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the
¶Prince your brother: I owe you all duetie.
¶Iohn I thanke you, I am not of many wordes, but I thanke
¶you
¶Pedro Your hand Leonato, we wil go together.
¶
Exeunt. Manent Benedicke & Claudio.
160Bene. I noted her not, but I lookte on her,
¶lie this commendation I can affoord her, that were shee other
¶is, I do not like her.
¶truelie how thou lik'st her.
¶Bene. Would you buie her that you enquier after her?
¶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:
¶lookt on.
¶exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first of Maie dooth the
¶band, haue you?
190the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife.
¶needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare the print of it, and
¶
Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard.
¶not to Leonatoes?
¶Pedro I charge thee on thy allegeance.
¶man, I woulde haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance,
205marke you this, on my allegiance) he is in loue, with who? now
¶Hero Leonatoes short daughter.
¶Pedro Amen, if you loue her, for the Lady is very well
215worthy.
¶Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lorde, I
220spoke mine.
¶Clau. That I loue her, I feele.
is the opinion that fire can
225not melt out of me, I will die in it at the stake.
¶spight of Beauty.
¶Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force
230of his wil.
¶that I will haue a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my
¶which I may go the finer,) I will liue a bacheller.
¶Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more blood with
¶loue then I will get againe with drinking, picke out mine eies
¶with a Ballad-makers penne, and hang me vp at the doore of a
¶prooue a notable argument.
¶me, and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and
250calld Adam.
¶beare the yoake.
¶dicke beare it, plucke off the bulls hornes, and set them in my
¶man.
260madde.
¶thou wilt quake for this shortly.
¶Bened. I looke for an earthquake too then.
¶Pedro Well, you will temporize with the howres, in the
265meane time, good signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes,
¶per, for indeede he hath made great preparation.
exit_
280good.
¶Pedro My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how,
¶Doost thou affect her Claudio?
¶Claudio O my lord,
¶When you went onward on this ended action,
¶I lookt vpon her with a souldiers eie,
290That likt, but had a rougher taske in hand,
¶Than to driue liking to the name of loue:
¶But now I am returnde, and that warre-thoughts,
¶Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes,
295All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is,
¶Saying I likt her ere I went to warres.
¶And tire the hearer with a booke of words,
300And I wil breake with hir, and with her father,
And thou shalt haue her: wast not to this end,
¶That know loues griefe by his complexion!
¶Pedro What need the bridge much broder then the flood?
¶And I wil fit thee with the remedie,
310I know we shall haue reuelling to night,
¶And tell faire Hero I am Claudio,
¶And take her hearing prisoner with the force
315And strong incounter of my amorous tale:
¶Then after, to her father will I breake,
exeunt.
¶
Enter Leonato and an old man brother to Leonato
¶he prouided this musique?
¶strange newes that you yet dreampt not of.
¶Leo. Are they good?
¶uer: they shew well outward, the prince and Count Claudio
¶walking in a thicke pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus
¶much ouer-heard by a man of mine: the prince discouered to
¶Claudio that he loued my niece your daughter, and meant to
330acknowledge it this night in a daunce, and if he found her ac-
¶stantly breake with you of it.
¶Leo Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
¶him your selfe.
¶but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that she may bee the
¶better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture this be true: go
340you and tel hir of it: coosins, you know what you haue to doe,
¶O I crie you mercie friend, go you with me and I wil vse your
exeunt.
¶
Enter sir Iohn the bastard, and Conrade his companion.
345Con. What the goodyeere my lord, why are you thus out of
¶vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine, to a
¶claw no man in his humor.
¶you may do it without controllment, you haue of late stoode
¶out against your brother, and he hath tane you newly into his
365the faire weather that you make your self, it is needful that you
¶grace, and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of all, then to
370fashion a cariage to rob loue from any: in this (thogh I cannot
¶in my cage: if I had my mouth I would bite: if I had my liber-
375ty I would do my liking: in the mean time, let me be that I am,
¶and seeke not to alter me.
380Who comes here? what newes Borachio?
¶
Enter Borachio.
¶brother is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can giue you
¶intelligence of an intended mariage.
¶Bor. Mary it is your bothers right hand.
390Bor. Euen he.
¶he?
¶Bor. Mary one Hero the daughter and heire of Leonato.
395Iohn A very forward March-chicke, how came you to
¶this?
¶musty roome, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in
¶hand in sad conference: I whipt me behind the arras, and there
400heard it agreed vpon, that the prince should wooe Hero for
¶dio.
¶Iohn Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food to my
¶Conr. To the death my Lord.
¶go proue whats to be done?
415
Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and
¶Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.
420him but I am heart-burn'd an hower after.
¶the mid-way between him and Benedick, the one is too like an
425sonne, euermore tatling.
¶Iohns mouth, and halfe Counte Iohns melancholy in Signior
¶Benedickes face.
¶Beatrice With a good legge and a good foote vnckle, and
¶man in the world if a could get her good will.
¶hornes.
¶sing, 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!
¶parell and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he that hath a
¶then a man: and he that is more then a youth, is not for me, and
¶apes into hell.
¶Leonato Well then, go you into hell.
¶Beatrice No but to the gate, and there will the diuell meete
455me like an old cuckold with hornes on his head, and say, get
¶you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen, heeres no place for
¶liue we as mery as the day is long.
¶ther.
¶as it please me.
¶husband.
470earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouer-masterd with
¶a peece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod
¶of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none: Adams sonnes are my
¶red.
475Leonato Daughter, remember what I told you, if the prince
¶not wooed in good time: if the prince be too important, tell
¶swer, for here me Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is
485chentry, and then comes Repentance, and with his bad legs
¶graue.
490day-light.
¶Leonato The reuellers are entring brother, make good
¶roome.
¶
Enter prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthaser,
¶or dumb Iohn.
495Pedro Lady will you walke about with your friend?
¶way.
¶Pedro With me in your company.
¶Hero When I like your fauour, for God defend the lute
505Ioue.
¶Bene. Well, I would you did like me.
510ny ill qualities.
¶Bene. Which is one?
¶Bene. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.
¶Marg. God match me with a good dauncer.
515Balth. Amen.
¶daunce is done: answer Clarke.
520nio.
¶Antho. At a word I am not.
¶Vrsula I knowe you by the wagling of your head.
¶Antho. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
525were the very man: heeres his drie hand vp and downe, you
¶are he, you are he.
¶Antho. At a word, I am not.
¶Vrsula Come, come, do you thinke I do not know you by
¶your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? go to, mumme, you
530are he, graces will appeere, and theres an end.
¶Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
535Bened. Not now.
¶out of the hundred mery tales: wel, this was signior Benedick
¶Bened. Whats he?
¶Bened. Not I, beleeue me.
¶Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh?
¶Bened. I pray you what is he?
¶delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in
¶his villanie, for he both pleases men and angers them, and then
¶they laugh at him, and beate him: I am sure he is in the Fleete,
¶I would he had boorded me.
¶Bene. When I know the Gentleman, ile tell him what you
¶say.
555to melancholy, and then theres a partrige wing saued, for the
¶ders.
¶Bene. In euery good thing.
¶Beat. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them at the
560next turning.
_
Dance _exeunt
¶drawne her father to breake with him about it: the Ladies fo-
¶low her, and but one visor remaines.
¶ing.
¶Clau. You know me well, I am he.
¶Iohn Signior, you are very neere my brother in his loue, he
¶is no equall for his birth, you may doe the parte of an honest
¶man in it.
¶Claudio How know you he loues her?
¶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 euery eie negotiate for it selfe,
585And trust no Agent: for Beauty is a witch,
¶This is an accident of hourely proofe,
Enter Bene-
( dicke_
590Benedicke Count Claudio.
¶Bene. Come, will you go with me?
¶Claudio Whither?
595county: what fashion will you weare the garland of? about
¶your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? or vnder your arme, like a
¶hath got your Hero.
¶ued you thus?
¶Claudio I pray you leaue me.
¶Benedicke Alas poore hurt foule, now will hee creepe into
¶know mee: the princes foole! hah, it may be I goe vnder that
¶giues me out: well, ile be reuenged as I may.
615
Enter the Prince, Hero, Leonato, Iohn and Borachio,
and Conrade.
¶Benedicke Troth my lord, I haue played the part of Ladie
¶Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a War-
620ren, I tolde him, and I thinke I tolde him true, that your grace
¶had got the goodwil of this yoong Lady, and I offred him my
¶company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as be-
¶ing forsaken, or to binde him vp a rod, as being worthie to bee
¶whipt.
625Pedro To be whipt, whats his fault?
¶panion, and he steales it.
¶made, & the garland too, for the garland he might haue worn
¶owner.
¶you.
¶an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered
¶Princes iester, that I was duller than a great thawe, huddleing
650breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no liu-
¶not marry her, though shee were indowed with al that Adam
655cules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to make the
¶fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall find her the infernall
¶coniure her, for certainely, while she is heere, a man may liue
¶horrour, and perturbation followes her.
¶
Enter Claudio and Beatrice.
¶the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch you a haire off the great
¶than holde three words conference, with this harpy, you haue
¶no imployment for me?
¶dure my Ladie Tongue.
exit.
¶or Benedicke.
¶Beatrice Indeed my Lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gaue
¶fore he wonne it of me, with false dice, therefore your grace
¶Pedro You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put him
¶downe.
¶should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought Counte
¶Claudio Neither, my Lord.
¶nor well: but ciuill Counte, ciuil as an orange, and something
¶of that iealous complexion.
695Pedro Ifaith Lady, I think your blazon to be true, though
¶haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero is won, I haue broke
¶with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of
¶marriage, and God giue thee ioy.
¶Leonato Counte take of me my daughter, and with her my
¶men to it.
¶Beatrice Speake Counte, tis your Qu.
Herault of ioy, I were but
¶little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you are mine,
¶I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and doate vpon the
¶exchange.
¶Pedro Infaith lady you haue a merry heart.
¶Beatr. Yea my lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes on the
¶her heart
¶Beat. Good Lord for aliance: thus goes euery one to the
¶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 maide coulde come by them.
¶Prince Will you haue me? lady.
725ing-daies, your grace is too costly to weare euery day: but I
¶and no matter.
¶becomes you, for out a question, you were borne in a merry
730hower.
¶giue you ioy.
735of?
¶Beat I crie you mercy vncle, by your graces pardon.
¶
exit Beatrice.
¶Leon. Theres little of the melancholy element in her my
¶vnhappines, and wakt her selfe with laughing.
¶sute.
¶Prince She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
¶Leonato O Lord, my lord, if they were but a weeke married,
¶they would talke themselues madde.
750Prince Countie Claudio, when meane you to goe to
¶church?
¶Clau. To morow my lord, Time goes on crutches, til Loue
¶haue all his rites.
¶swer my mind.
¶but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not go dully by vs, I
¶wil in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules labors, which is,
760to bring Signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a moun-
¶taine 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
¶watchings.
¶Claud. And I my Lord.
¶Prince And you too gentle Hero?
770to a good husband.
¶of approoued valour, and confirmde honesty, I will teach you
¶pid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall bee ours, for we are
¶the onely loue-gods, goe in with mee, and I will tell you my
780drift.
exit.
¶
Enter Iohn and Borachio.
¶of Leonato.
cinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and whatsoeuer
¶comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly with mine, how
¶Iohn Shew me briefely how.
¶I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to
¶Hero.
795Iohn I remember.
¶her to looke out at her ladies chamber window.
¶Iohn What life is in that to be the death of this mariage?
¶the prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that he hath
¶wronged his honor in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose
¶such a one as Hero.
¶to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any other
¶Bor. Go then, find me a meet houre, to draw don Pedro and
¶the Counte Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero
¶loues me, intend a kind of zeale both to the prince & Claudio
¶(as in loue of your brothers honor who hath made this match)
815and his friends reputation, who is thus like to bee cosen'd with
820window, heare me call Margaret Hero, heare Marg. terme me
825rance, and al the preparation ouerthrowne.
¶sand ducates.
¶
Enter Benedicke alone.
835Bene. Boy.
¶Boy Signior.
¶Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it hither
¶to me in the orchard.
¶gaine. I do much wonder, that one man seeing how much an
¶other man is a foole, when he dedicates his behauiours to loue,
845man is Claudio, I haue knowne when there was no musique
¶with him but the drumme and the fife, and now had he rather
¶heare the taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would
¶haue walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armour, and now wil
850he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet: he
¶man and a souldier) and now is he turnd ortography, his words
¶faire, yet I am well, an other is wise, yet I am well: an other
¶vertuous, yet I am wel: but till all graces be in one woman, one
¶wise, or ile none, vertuous, or ile neuer cheapen her: faire, or ile
¶neuer looke on her, mild, or come not neare me, noble, or not I
¶monsieur Loue, I wil hide me in the arbor.
¶
Enter prince, Leonato, Claudio, Musicke.
¶Weele fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth.
Enter Balthaser with musicke.
¶To put a strange face on his owne perfection,
¶I pray thee sing, and let me wooe no more.
¶Since many a wooer doth commence his sute,
885To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
¶Yet will he sweare he loues.
¶Prince Nay pray thee come,
¶Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
¶Do it in notes.
890Balth. Note this before my notes,
¶Theres not a note of mine thats worth the noting.
¶Note notes forsooth, and nothing.
¶dies? well a horne for my mony when alls done.
¶
The Song.
¶Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more,
900Men were deceiuers euer,
¶To one thing constant neuer,
¶And be you blith and bonnie,
905Conuerting all your soundes of woe,
¶Into hey nony nony.
¶Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
¶Of dumps so dull and heauy,
¶The fraud of men was euer so,
¶they would haue hangd him, and I pray God his bad voice
¶bode no mischeefe, I had as liue haue heard the night-rauen,
¶come what plague could haue come after it.
¶haue it at the ladie Heroes chamber window.
Exit Balthasar.
¶it you told mee of to day, that your niece Beatrice was in loue
¶with signior Benedicke?
¶that lady would haue loued any man.
¶behauiors seemd euer to abhorre.
¶Leo. By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of
¶infinite of thought.
¶Claud. Faith like enough.
¶Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of
945daughter tell you how.
¶Claud. She did indeede.
¶Prince How, how I pray you! you amaze me, I would haue
¶affection.
¶Benedicke.
¶uerence.
955Claud. He hath tane th'infection, hold it vp.
¶dicke?
¶ment.
¶that I loue him?
¶tels vs all.
¶iest your daughter told of vs.
970found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete.
¶Claudio That.
¶him I should.
¶dicke, God giue me patience.
¶very true.
¶torment the poore Lady worse.
990ous.
¶Prince In euery thing but in louing Benedicke.
¶so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath
¶vncle, and her gardian.
¶I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare what a will say.
¶Leonato Were it good thinke you?
¶all) hath a contemptible spirite.
1010Claudio He is a very proper man.
¶Prince He hath indeede a good outward happines.
¶wit.
1015Claudio And I take him to be valiant.
¶anlike feare.
¶if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrel with
¶feare and trembling.
¶dicke, and tell him of her loue?
¶Claudio Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with
¶good counsell.
1030out first.
¶Prince Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter,
¶let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke wel, and I could wish
¶vnworthy so good a lady.
1035Leonato My lord, will you walke? dinner is ready.
¶Claudio If he do not doate on her vppon this, I will neuer
¶trust my expectation.
1040will be, when they holde one an opinion of an others dotage,
¶dinner.
1045borne, they haue the trueth of this from Hero, they seeme to
¶pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue their full bent:
¶not seeme prowd, happy are they that heare their detractions,
¶and can put them to mending: they say the Lady is faire, tis a
¶not reprooue it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is
¶no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her follie, for
¶I will be horribly in loue with her, I may chaunce haue some
¶odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken on me, because I
1060tite alter? a man loues the meate in his youth, that he cannot in-
¶bullets of the brain awe a man from the carreere of his humor?
¶batcheller, I did not think I should liue til I were married, here
¶markes of loue in her.
¶
Enter Beatrice.
1070ner.
¶Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines.
¶take paines to thanke me, if it had bin painful I would not haue
¶come.
¶fare you well.
exit.
1080dinner: theres a double meaning in that: I took no more paines
¶for those thanks thē you took pains to thank me, thats as much
¶not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I do not loue her I am a
¶Iew, I will go get her picture,
exit.
¶
Enter Hero and two Gentlewomen, Margaret, and Vrsley.
¶Hero Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour,
1090Proposing with the prince and Claudio,
¶And bid her steale into the pleached bowere
¶Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites,
¶Made proud by princes, that aduaunce their pride,
1100Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone.
¶As we do trace this alley vp and downe,
¶Our talke must onely be of Benedicke,
1105When I do name him let it be thy part,
¶To praise him more than euer man did merite,
¶My talke to thee must be how Benedicke,
¶Is sicke in loue with Beatrice: of this matter,
¶Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
1110That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin,
¶For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
¶Close by the ground, to heare our conference.
¶
Enter Beatrice.
¶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.
¶I know her spirits are as coy and wild,
¶As haggerds of the rocke.
¶That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely?
¶Vrsula And did they bid you tel her of it, madame?
¶Hero They did intreate me to acquaint her of it,
1130But I perswaded them, if they lou'de Benedicke,
¶And neuer to let Beatrice know of it.
¶Deserue as full as fortunate a bed,
1135As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon?
¶As much as may be yeelded to a man:
¶But nature neuer framde a womans hart,
¶Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice:
¶Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection,
¶And therefore certainely it were not good,
1150How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featured.
¶If blacke, why Nature drawing of an antique,
¶Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed:
1155If low, an agot very vildly cut:
¶If speaking, why a vane blowne with all winds:
¶If silent, why a blocke moued with none:
¶And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that
¶As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,
1165She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
¶Therefore let Benedicke like couerd fire,
¶It were a better death, then die with mockes,
1170Which is as bad as die with tickling.
¶Hero No rather I will go to Benedicke,
¶How much an ill word may impoison liking.
¶She cannot be so much without true iudgement,
¶So rare a gentleman as signior Benedicke.
¶Hero He is the onely man of Italy,
¶Alwaies excepted my deare Claudio
¶Vrsula I pray you be not angry with me, madame,
1185Speaking my fancy: signior Benedicke,
¶For shape, for bearing argument and valour,
¶Goes formost in report through Italy.
¶Hero Indeed he hath an excellent good name.
¶Vrsula His excellence did earne it, ere he had it:
1190When are you married madame?
¶Hero Why euery day to morrow, come go in,
¶Vrsula Shees limed I warrant you,
1195We haue caught her madame.
¶Some Cupid kills with arrowes some with traps.
¶Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true?
1200Contempt, farewel, and maiden pride, adew,
¶No glory liues behind the backe of such.
¶And Benedicke, loue on I will requite thee,
¶Taming my wild heart to thy louing hand:
1205To bind our loues vp in a holy band.
¶Beleeue it better then reportingly.
exit.
¶
Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.
1210then go I toward Arragon.
¶me.
¶of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coate and forbid
1215him to weare it, I wil only be bold with Benedick for his com-
¶pany, for from the crowne of his head, to the sole of his foot,
¶he is al mirth, he hath twice or thrice cut Cupides bow-string,
¶and the little hang-man dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart
¶as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his
1220heart thinkes, his tongue speakes.
¶Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin.
¶Clau. I hope he be in loue.
1225Prince Hang him truant, theres no true drop of bloud in
¶ney.
¶Bene. I haue the tooth-ach.
¶Prince Draw it.
1230Bene. Hang it.
¶Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme.
1235has it.
¶man to day, a French-man to morrow, or in the shape of two
countries at once, as a Germaine from the waste downward,
all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip vpward, no dublet: vn-
¶he is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it appeare he
¶is.
1245that bode?
¶and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath already stufft tennis
¶balls.
¶a beard.
¶out by that?
1255loue.
¶they say of him.
¶clude, he is in loue.
¶Claud. Nay but I know who loues him.
1265Prince That would I know too, I warrant one that knows
¶him not.
¶for him.
¶Prince For my life to breake with him about Beatrice.
¶their parts with Beatrice, and then the two beares will not
¶bite one another when they meete.
¶
Enter Iohn the Bastard.
1280Prince Good den brother.
¶Prince In priuate?
¶what I would speake of, concernes him.
1285Prince Whats the matter?
¶Prince You know he does.
¶Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know.
¶after, and ayme better at me by that I now will manifest, for
¶Prince Why whats the matter?
¶Clau. Who Hero?
¶Hero.
¶fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant: go but with me
¶night before her wedding day, if you loue her, then to morow
1310wed her: But it would better fitte your honour to change your
¶mind.
¶Prince I wil not thinke it.
1315you knowe: if you will follow mee, I will shew you enough,
¶cordingly.
¶ry her to morrow in the congregation, where I should wed,
1320there will I shame her.
¶Prince And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I wil ioyne
¶with thee, to disgrace her.
1325it selfe.
¶Prince O day vntowardly turned!
1330
Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the Watch.
¶Dog. Are you good men and true?
¶uation body and soule.
¶Princes watch.
¶bery.
1340to be Constable?
¶can write and reade.
¶you with a good name: to be a welfauoured man, is the gift of
1345Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by nature.
1350of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appeere when
¶there is no neede of such vanity, you are thought heere to be
¶therefore beare you the lanthorne: this is your charge, You
¶shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bidde any man
1355stand, in the Princes name.
¶Dogbery Why then take no note of him, but let him goe,
1360god you are ridde of a knaue.
¶the Princes subiects.
¶Dogbery True, and they are to meddle with none but the
1365for, for the watch to babble and to talke, is most tollerable, and
¶not to be indured.
¶longs to a watch.
¶ly haue a care that your billes bee not stolne: well, you are to
¶bed.
¶Watch How if they will not?
¶the men you tooke them for.
1380vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such kind of
¶is for your honesty.
¶on him?
1385Dogbery Truely by your office you may, but I thinke they
¶that touch pitch will be defilde: the most peaceable way for
¶he is, and steale out of your companie.
¶Verges You haue beene alwayes called a mercifull manne,
partner.
1390Dog. Truely I would not hang a dogge by my will, much
¶more a man who hath anie honestie in him.
¶Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the child wake her
¶with crying, for the ewe that will not heare her lamb when it
¶baes, will neuer answer a calfe when he bleates.
1400Verges Tis very true.
¶night, you may stay him.
¶Verges Nay birlady that I thinke a cannot.
¶willing, for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is
¶matter of weight chaunces, cal vp me, keepe your fellowes
¶bour.
¶here vppon the church bench till twoo, and then all to
¶bed.
¶about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being there to
1420morrow, there is a great coyle to night, adiew, be vigitant I be-
¶seech you.
exeunt.
¶
Enter Borachio and Conrade.
¶Bor. What Conrade?
¶Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow.
¶Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would a
¶scabbe follow.
1430with thy tale.
¶thee.
¶sand ducates.
1440ones, poore ones may make what price they will.
¶Con. I wonder at it.
¶that the fashion of a dublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing to a
1445man.
¶Con. Yes it is apparell.
1450thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is?
¶Watch I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe, this
¶vij. yeere, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man: I remember
¶his name.
¶on is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hot-blouds, between
1465apparrell then the man, but art not thou thy selfe giddy with
¶me of the fashion?
¶Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the name of
¶off in the orchard this amiable incounter.
¶Conr. And thought they Margaret was Hero?
1480deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villany, which did confirme
¶ning at the Temple, and there, before the whole congregation
1485gaine without a husband.
¶here recouerd the most dangerous peece of lechery, that euer
1490was knowne in the common wealth.
¶Watch 1 And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, a
¶weares a locke.
¶Watch 2 Youle be made bring deformed forth I warrant
1495you.
¶to go with vs.
¶ken vp of these mens billes.
¶obey you.
exeunt.
¶
Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula.
¶to rise.
1505Vrsula I wil lady.
¶Hero And bid her come hither.
¶Vrsula Well.
¶Marg. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better.
¶Hero No pray thee good Meg, ile weare this.
¶none but this.
¶Mar I like the new tire within excelently, if the haire were a
¶shion, yours is worth ten on't.
1525ing heauy.
¶man.
1530age honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable
¶king, ile offend no body, is there any harm in the heauier, for a
¶els, here she comes.
¶
Enter Beatrice.
¶Hero Good morrow coze.
¶Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes.
¶Mar Clap's into Light a loue, (that goes without a burden,)
¶do you sing it, and ile daunce it.
¶heeles.
¶dy, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho.
¶Beat. For the letter that begins them al, H.
¶Mar. Wel, and you be not turnde Turke, theres no more
¶Beat. What meanes the foole trow?
¶sire.
1560lent perfume.
¶colde.
¶Beat. O God help me, God help me, how long haue you
¶rarely?
¶cap, by my troth I am sicke.
¶and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualme.
¶benedictus.
1575Mar. Morall? no by my troth I haue no morall meaning,
¶think you are in loue, nay birlady I am not such a foole to think
¶not think, if I would thinke my heart out of thinking, that you
1580are 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
¶of his heart he eates his meate without grudging, and how you
1585may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with
¶your eies as other women do.
¶Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes?
¶Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are
¶come to fetch you to church.
¶sula.
1595
Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.
¶you, that decernes you nearely.
¶me.
¶Leonato What is it my good friends?
¶his browes.
1610that is an old man, and no honester then I.
Verges.
¶Leonato Neighbors, you are tedious.
¶poore Dukes officers, but truly for mine owne part, if I were as
1615tedious as a King I could find in my heart to bestow it all of
¶your worship.
¶for I heare as good exclamation on your worshippe as of any
1620man in the citie, and though I be but a poore man, I am glad to
¶heare it.
¶say, when the age is in, the wit is out, God help vs, it is a world
¶bour.
1635Const. Do. Gifts that God giues.
¶this morning examined before your worship.
¶I am now in great haste, as it may appeare vnto you.
1645ter to her husband.
¶Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready.
¶Dogb. Go good partner, goe get you to Francis Sea-cole,
¶bid him bring his penne and inckehorne to the Gaole: we are
¶now to examination these men.
¶ned writer to set downe our excommunication, and meet me
¶at the Iaile.
¶
Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Bene-
¶dicke, Hero, and Beatrice
¶Leonato Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine
1660ties afterwards.
¶Fran. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.
¶Claudio No.
¶Leo To bee married to her: Frier, you come to marry her.
1665Frier Lady, you come hither to be married to this counte.
¶Hero I do.
¶Frier If either of you know any inward impediment why
1670vtter it.
¶Claudio Know you any, Hero?
¶Hero None my lord.
¶Frier Know you any, Counte?
1675Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men
¶daily do, not knowing what they do!
¶laughing, as, ah, ha, he.
¶Claudio Stand thee by Frier, father by your leaue,
¶Giue me this maide your daughter?
¶May counterpoise this rich and pretious gift?
¶Claudio Sweete Prince, you learne me noble thankfulnes:
¶There Leonato, take her backe againe,
¶Giue not this rotten orenge to your friend,
¶O what authoritie and shew of truth
¶Comes not that blood, as modest euidence,
¶She knowes the heate of a luxurious bed:
¶Leonato What do you meane, my lord?
1700Claudio Not to be married,
¶Not to knit my soule to an approoued wanton.
¶Leonato Deere my lord, if you in your owne proofe,
¶And made defeate of her virginitie.
¶I neuer tempted her with word too large,
¶You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe,
1715As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne:
¶But you are more intemperate in your blood,
¶Than Venus, or those pampred animalls,
¶To lincke my deare friend to a common stale.
¶Bened. This lookes not like a nuptiall.
¶Hero True, O God!
¶Is this the prince? is this the princes brother?
1730Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne?
¶And by that fatherly and kindly power,
¶That you haue in her, bid her answer truly.
¶What kind of catechising call you this?
¶Hero Is it not Hero, who can blot that name
1740With any iust reproch?
¶Claud. Mary that can Hero,
¶Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue.
¶What man was he talkt with you yesternight,
¶Out at your window betwixt twelue and one?
1745Now if you are a maide, answer to this.
¶Hero I talkt with no man at that hower my lord.
¶Prince Why then are you no maiden. Leonato,
¶My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Counte
¶Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window,
¶Who hath indeede most like a liberall villaine,
¶Confest the vile encounters they haue had
1755Iohn Fie, fie, they are not to be named my lord,
¶Not to be spoke of,
¶There is not chastitie enough in language,
¶Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty lady,
¶If halfe thy outward graces had bin placed,
¶About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart?
¶Thou pure impietie, and impious puritie,
1765For thee ile locke vp all the gates of Loue,
¶And on my eie-liddes shall Coniecture hang,
¶To turne all beautie into thoughts of harme,
¶And neuer shall it more be gracious.
¶Leonato Hath no mans dagger here a point for me.
¶Smother her spirits vp.
¶Benedicke How doth the Lady?
¶Beatrice Dead I thinke, help vncle,
1775Hero, why Hero, vncle, signior Benedicke, Frier.
¶Leonato O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand,
¶That may be wisht for.
1780Frier Haue comfort lady.
¶Leonato Wherfore? why doth not euery earthly thing,
1785The story that is printed in her bloud?
¶Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eies:
¶For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die,
¶My selfe would on the rereward of reproches
1790Strike at thy life. Grieued I I had but one?
¶Chid I for that at frugall Natures frame?
¶O one too much by thee: why had I one?
¶Why euer wast thou louely in my eies?
¶Why had I not with charitable hand,
¶Who smirched thus, and mired with infamy,
¶I might haue said, no part of it is mine,
¶But mine and mine I loued, and mine I praisde,
1800And mine that I was prowd on mine so much,
¶Into a pit of incke, that the wide sea
¶Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe,
¶To her foule tainted flesh.
¶der, I know not what to say.
¶I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow.
¶Which was before bard vp with ribs of yron,
1815Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie,
¶Washt it with teares! hence from her, let her die.
¶giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting of the lady, I
1820haue markt,
¶And in her eie there hath appeard a fire,
1825To burne the errors that these princes hold
¶Against her maiden truth: call me a foole,
¶Which with experimental seale doth warrant
¶The tenure of my booke: trust not my age,
1830My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie,
¶Vnder some biting errour.
¶Leonato Frier, it cannot be,
1835Is, that she will not adde to her damnation,
¶If I know more of any man aliue
¶Then that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
¶Let all my sinnes lacke mercie, O my father,
¶Proue you that any man with me conuerst,
1845At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight
¶Maintaind the change of words with any creature,
¶Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.
¶Bene. Two of them haue the very bent of honour,
¶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,
¶Both strength of limbe, and policy of mind,
¶Ability in meanes, and choise of friends,
¶To quit me of them throughly.
¶Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
¶Maintaine a mourning ostentation,
1870And on your families old monument,
¶Hang mourneful epitaphes, and do all rites,
¶That appertaine vnto a buriall.
¶But on this trauaile looke for greater birth:
1880Shal be lamented, pittied, and excusde
¶Of euery hearer: for it so falls out,
¶That what we haue, we prize not to the worth,
¶Whiles we enioy it, but being lackt and lost,
¶Why then we racke the valew, then we find
¶Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio:
¶Into his study of imagination,
1890And euery louely Organ of her life,
¶Shall come apparelld in more precious habite,
¶More moouing delicate, and full of life,
1895If euer loue had interest in his liuer,
¶No, though he thought his accusation true:
1900Then I can lay it downe in likelihood.
¶But if all ayme but this be leuelld false,
¶Will quench the wonder of her infamie.
¶And if it sort not wel, you may conceale her,
1905As best befits her wounded reputation,
¶Out of all eies, tongues, minds, and iniuries.
1910Is very much vnto the prince and Claudio,
¶Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this,
¶Should with your body.
¶Leon. Being that I flow in griefe,
¶Come lady, die to liue, this wedding day
¶Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience and endure.
exit.
1920Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept al this while?
¶Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
¶would right her!
¶Bene. May a man do it?
1930Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours.
¶is not that strange?
1940him eate it that sayes I loue not you.
¶Beat. Will you not eate your word?
¶loue thee.
¶Beat. Why then God forgiue me.
¶to protest I loued you.
¶Bened. And do it with all thy heart.
1950to protest.
¶Bened. Come bid me doe any thing for thee.
¶Beat. Kill Claudio.
¶Bened. Ha, not for the wide world.
¶Beat. You kill me to deny it, farewell.
¶Beat. I am gone, though I am here, there is no loue in you,
¶nay I pray you let me go.
¶Bened. Beatrice.
¶Beat. In faith I will go.
¶mine enemy.
¶Bened. Is Claudio thine enemy?
¶Beat. Is a not approoued in the height a villaine, that hath
¶were a man! what, beare her in hand, vntill they come to take
¶vnmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I woulde
¶eate his heart in the market place.
1970Bened. Heare me Beatrice.
¶Bened. Nay but Beatrice.
1975vndone.
¶Bened. Beat?
¶that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend woulde
¶valour into complement, and men are only turnd into tongue,
¶and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only
¶fore I will die a woman with grieuing.
¶Bened. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee.
¶by it.
1990wrongd Hero?
¶Bened. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will
¶render me a deere account: as you heare of me, so think of me:
¶well.
¶
Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne clearke
¶in gownes.
¶Sexton Which be the malefactors?
¶Andrew Mary that am I, and my partner.
¶mine.
¶Kemp Yea mary, let them come before mee, what is your
¶name, friend?
¶Bor. Borachio.
¶do you serue God?
Both Yea sir we hope.
Kem. Write downe, that they hope they serue God: and
write God first, for God defend but God shoulde goe before
such villaines: maisters, it is prooued alreadie that you are little
¶go about with him: come you hither sirra, a word in your eare
¶haue you writ downe, that they are none?
2030men.
¶ther was a villaine.
¶Kemp Write downe, prince Iohn a villaine: why this is flat
¶periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine.
¶Kemp Pray thee fellowe peace, I doe not like thy looke I
¶promise thee.
2040don Iohn, for accusing the Ladie Hero wrongfully.
¶Kemp Flat burglarie as euer was committed.
2045Watch 1 And that Counte Claudio did meane vppon his
¶marrie her.
¶redemption for this.
¶be bound, and brought to Leonatoes, I will goe before and
¶shew him their examination.
¶Constable Come, let them be opiniond.
¶Couley Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe.
2060Kemp Gods my life, wheres the Sexton? let him write down
¶the Princes officer Coxcombe: come, bind them, thou naugh-
¶ty varlet.
¶villaine, thou art full of pietie as shal be prou'de vpon thee by
¶good witnes, I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer,
¶the Law, goe to, and a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow
¶thing hansome about him: bring him away: O that I had bin
exit.
¶
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
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
¶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
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
¶
Enter Benedicke and Margaret.
2425my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.
¶tie?
¶keep below staires.
¶Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it
2435catches.
¶Mar. And your's, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit,
¶but hurt not.
2440lers.
¶owne.
¶pikes with a vice, and they are daungerous weapons for
2445maides.
¶Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath
¶legges.
Exit Margarite.
¶aboue, and knowes mee, and knowes me, how pittifull I de-
2455in loue: mary I cannot shew it in rime, I haue tried, I can finde
¶out no rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne,
¶nous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming plannet,
¶thou come when I cald thee?
¶
Enter Beatrice.
¶let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing what
¶hath past betweene you and Claudio.
¶Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but
¶foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therfore I wil depart
¶vnkist.
¶mingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first
¶suffer loue for me?
2485for I loue thee against my will.
¶uer loue that which my friend hates.
¶of good neighbours, if a man do not erect in this age his owne
2495toomb ere he dies, he shall liue no longer in monument, then
¶the bell rings, and the widow weepes.
¶Beat. And how long is that thinke you?
¶worme (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to
¶worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin?
¶Beat. Verie ill.
¶Bene. And how do you?
¶Beat. Verie ill too.
2510Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there wil I leaue you
¶too, for here comes one in haste.
Enter Vrsula.
2515is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come pre-
¶sently?
¶Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in
¶thy eies: and moreouer, I wil go with thee to thy vncles.
exit.
¶
Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with tapers.
¶Claudio Is this the monument of Leonato?
¶
Done to death by slauderous tongues,
2525Was the Hero that heere lies:
¶Death in guerdon of her wronges,
¶Giues her fame which neuer dies:
¶So the life that dyed with shame,
¶Liues in death with glorious fame.
2530_Hang thou there vpon the toomb,
¶
_ Song Pardon goddesse of the night,
¶For the which with songs of woe,
¶Round about her tombe they goe:
¶Heauily heauily.
2540Graues yawne and yeeld your dead,
¶Till death be vttered,
¶Heauily heauily.
2545The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day
¶Before the wheeles of Phoebus, round about
¶Thanks to you al, and leaue vs, fare you well.
2550Prince Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes,
¶And then to Leonatoes we will goe.
¶Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe.
exeunt.
¶
Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero.
¶Vpon the errour that you heard debated:
¶But Margaret was in some fault for this,
¶Although against her will as it appeares,
¶To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
¶Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
2565Withdraw into a chamber by your selues,
¶The Prince and Claudio promisde by this howre
¶To visite me, you know your office brother,
¶You must be father to your brothers daughter,
2570And giue her to young Claudio.
Exeunt Ladies.
¶Old Which I will doe with confirmd countenance.
¶Frier To doe what Signior?
¶Bened. To bind me, or vndo me, one of them:
2575Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,
¶Your niece regards me with an eye of fauour.
¶Bened. And I do with an eye of loue requite her.
2580From Claudio and the Prince, but whats your will?
¶But for my wil, my will is, your good will
¶May stand with ours, this day to be conioynd,
¶In the state of honorable marriage,
¶Leo. My heart is with your liking.
¶Frier And my helpe.
Heere comes the Prince and Claudio.
¶
Enter Prince, and Claudio, and two or three other.
2590Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio:
¶We heere attend you, are you yet determined,
¶To day to marry with my brothers daughter?
¶Leo Call her foorth brother, heres the Frier ready.
2595P. Good morrow Bened. why whats the matter?
¶That you haue such a Februarie face,
¶Tush feare not man, weele tip thy hornes with gold,
2600And all Europa shall reioyce at thee,
¶As once Europa did at lustie Ioue,
¶When he would play the noble beast in loue.
2605And got a calfe in that same noble feate,
¶Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleate.
¶
Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula.
¶Clau. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings.
¶Before this Frier, and sweare to marry hir.
¶Claud. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier,
2615I am your husband if you like of me.
¶Hero And when I liu'd I was your other wife,
¶And when you loued, you were my other husband.
¶Claud. Another Hero.
¶Hero Nothing certainer.
2620One Hero died defilde, but I do liue,
¶And surely as I liue, I am a maide.
¶Prince The former Hero, Hero that is dead.
¶Frier All this amazement can I qualifie,
2625When 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?
¶Bene. Do not you loue me?
¶Bene. Why then your vncle, and the prince, and Claudio,
¶Haue beene deceiued, they swore you did.
2635Beat. Do not you loue me?
¶Are much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did.
¶Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence.
2645For heres a paper written in his hand,
¶A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine,
¶Fashioned to Beatrice.
¶Hero And heres another,
2650Containing her affection vnto Benedicke.
¶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
¶told, you were in a consumption.
¶Bene. Ile tel thee what prince: a colledge of witte-crackers
2660cannot flout me out of my humour, dost thou think I care for
¶a Satyre or an Epigramme? no, if a man will be beaten with
¶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,
¶that I might haue cudgelld thee out of thy single life, to make
¶thee a double dealer, which out of question thou wilt be, if my
¶coosin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee.
¶Bene. Come, come, we are friends, lets haue a dance ere we
2675are maried, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues
¶heeles.
¶Leon. Weele haue dancing afterward.
2680more reuerent then one tipt with horne.
Enter Messenger.
¶Mess. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight,
dance.
2685 FINIS.
