417Leonato. Was not Count Iohn here at supper?

418Brother. I saw him not.

419Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer

420can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after.

421Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition.

422Beatrice. Hee were an excellent man that were made

423iust in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one

424is too like an image and saies nothing, and the other too

425like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling.

426Leon. Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count

427Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Sig-

428nior Benedicks face.

429Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and

430money enough in his purse, such a man would winne any

431woman in the world, if he could get her good will.

432Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a

433husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

434Brother. Infaith shee's too curst.

435Beat. Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods

436sending that way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow

437short hornes, but to a Cow too curst he sends none.

438Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no

439hornes.

440Beat. Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which

441blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and

442euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a

443beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen.

444Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that hath no

445beard.

446Batrice. What should I doe with him? dresse him in

447my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he

448that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath

449no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is more then a

450youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I am

451not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in ear-

452nest of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell.

453Leon. Well then, goe you into hell.

454Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill

455meete mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head,

456and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen,

457heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my Apes,

458and away to S. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee

459where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as

460the day is long.

461Brother. Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your

462father.

463Beatrice. Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curt-

464sie, and say, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let

465him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie,

466and say, father, as it please me.

467Leonato. Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted

468with a husband.

469Beatrice. Not till God make men of some other met-

470tall then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouer-

471mastred with a peece of valiant dust? to make account of

472her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none:

473Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sinne

474to match in my kinred.

475Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the

476Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your an-

477swere.

478Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you

479be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too impor-

480tant, tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance

481out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, &

482repenting, is as a Scotch ijgge, a measure, and a cinque-

483pace: the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch ijgge

484(and full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest,

485(as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes

486repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-

487pace faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue.

Much adoe about Nothing 105

488Leonata. Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly.

489Beatrice. I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church

490by daylight.

491Leon. The reuellers are entring brother, make good

492roome.

495Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend?

496Hero. So you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say

497nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I

498walke away.

499Pedro. With me in your company.

500Hero. I may say so when I please.

501Pedro. And when please you to say so?

502Hero. When I like your fauour, for God defend the

503Lute should be like the case.

504Pedro. My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house

505is Loue.

506Hero. Why then your visor should be thatcht.

507Pedro. Speake low if you speake Loue.

508Bene. Well, I would you did like me.

509Mar. So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue

510manie ill qualities.

511Bene. Which is one?

512Mar. I say my prayers alowd.

513Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.

514Mar. God match me with a good dauncer.

515Balt. Amen.

516Mar. And God keepe him out of my sight when the

517daunce is done: answer Clarke.

518Balt. No more words, the Clarke is answered.

519Vrsula. I know you well enough, you are Signior An-

520thonio.

521Anth. At a word, I am not.

522Vrsula. I know you by the wagling of your head.

523Anth. To tell you true, I counterfet him.

524Vrsu. You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse

525you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down,

526you are he, you are he.

527Anth. At a word I am not.

528Vrsula. Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know

529you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe

530to, mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's

531an end.

532Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?

533Bene. No, you shall pardon me.

534Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?

535Bened. Not now.

536Beat. That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good

537wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signi-

538or Benedicke that said so.

539Bene. What's he?

540Beat. I am sure you know him well enough.

541Bene. Not I, beleeue me.

542Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh?

543Bene. I pray you what is he?

544Beat. Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole,

545onely his gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none

546but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is

547not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleaseth

548men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and

549beat him: I am sure he is in the Fleet, I would he had

550boorded me.

551Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what

552you say.

553Beat. Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two

554on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd

555at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Par-

556tridge wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that

557night. We must follow the Leaders.

558Ben. In euery good thing.

559Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them

560at the next turning. Exeunt.

562Iohn. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath

563withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the

564Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines.

565Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bea-

566ring.

567Iohn. Are not you signior Benedicke?

568Clau. You know me well, I am hee.

569Iohn. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his

570loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him

571from her, she is no equall for his birth: you may do the

572part of an honest man in it.

573Claudio. How know you he loues her?

574Iohn. I heard him sweare his affection,

575Bor. So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her

576to night.

577Iohn. Come, let vs to the banquet. Ex. manet Clau.

578Clau. Thus answere I in name of Benedicke,

579But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio:

580'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for himselfe:

581Friendship is constant in all other things,

582Saue in the Office and affaires of loue:

583Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues.

584Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe,

585And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch,

586Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood:

587This is an accident of hourely proofe,

588Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero.

590Ben. Count Claudio.

591Clau. Yea, the same.

592Ben. Come, will you go with me?

593Clau. Whither?

594Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own bu-

595sinesse, Count. What fashion will you weare the Gar-

596land off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or

597vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must

598weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.

599Clau: I wish him ioy of her.

600Ben. Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so

601they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold

602haue serued you thus?

603Clau. I pray you leaue me.

604Ben. Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the

605boy that stole your meate, and you'l beat the post.

606Clau. If it will not be, Ile leaue you. Exit.

607Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into

608sedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, &

609not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe

610vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am

611apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the

612base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's

613the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, Ile

614be reuenged as I may.

616Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count, did you

617see him?

106 Much ado about Nothing.

618Bene. Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady

619Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a

620Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your

621grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered

622him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a

623garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as be-

624ing worthy to be whipt.

625Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault?

626Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who

627being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his

628companion, and he steales it.

629Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the

630transgression is in the stealer.

631Ben. Yet it had not beene amisse the rod had beene

632made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue

633worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on

634you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest.

635Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them

636to the owner.

637Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith

638you say honestly.

639Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the

640Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much

641wrong'd by you.

642Bene. O she misusde me past the indurance of a block:

643an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue an-

644swered her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold

645with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my

646selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller

647then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such im-

648possible conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a

649marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes

650poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were

651as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere

652her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not

653marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam

654had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made

655Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to

656make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde

657her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God

658some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she

659is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary,

660and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe

661thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation

662followes her.

664Pedro. Looke heere she comes.

665Bene. Will your Grace command mee any seruice to

666the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now

667to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I

668will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch

669of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch

670you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any em-

671bassage to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words

672conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment

673for me?

674Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.

675Bene. O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot in-

676dure this Lady tongue. Exit.

677Pedr. Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of

678Signior Benedicke.

679Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I

680gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry

681once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore

682your Grace may well say I haue lost it.

683Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put

684him downe.

685Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest

686I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought

687Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke.

688Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?

689Claud. Not sad my Lord.

690Pedro. How then? sicke?

691Claud. Neither, my Lord.

692Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry,

693nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and some-

694thing of a iealous complexion.

695Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true,

696though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false:

697heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero

698is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will

699obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue

700thee ioy.

701Leona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her

702my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace

703say, Amen to it.

704Beatr. Speake Count, tis your Qu.

705Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were

706but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you

707are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and

708doat vpon the exchange.

709Beat. Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth

710with a kisse, and let not him speake neither.

711Pedro. In faith Lady you haue a merry heart.

712Beatr. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes

713on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare

714that he is in my heart.

715Clau. And so she doth coosin.

716Beat. Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one

717to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a cor-

718ner and cry, heigh ho for a husband.

719Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

720Beat. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting:

721hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father

722got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

723Prince. Will you haue me? Lady.

724Beat. No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for

725working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie

726day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne

727to speake all mirth, and no matter.

728Prince. Your silence most offends me, and to be mer-

729ry, best becomes you, for out of question, you were born

730in a merry howre.

731Beatr. No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then

732there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: co-

733sins God giue you ioy.

734Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those rhings I told

735you of?

736Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.

738Prince. By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady.

739Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her

740my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not

741euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath

742often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with

743laughing.

744Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband.

745Leonato. O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers

746out of suite.

747Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.

748Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke

Much ado about Nothing. 107

749married, they would talke themselues madde.

750Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to

751Church?

752Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches,

753till Loue haue all his rites.

754Leonata. Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is

755hence a iust seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue

756all things answer minde.

757Prince. Come, you shake the head at so long a brea-

758thing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe

759dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Her-

760cules labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the

761Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th'one with

762th'other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not

763but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assi-

764stance as I shall giue you direction.

765Leonata. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee

766ten nights watchings.

767Claud. And I my Lord.

768Prin. And you to gentle Hero?

769Hero. I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe

770my cosin to a good husband.

771Prin. And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband

772that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble

773straine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will

774teach you how to humour your cosin, that shee shall fall

775in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will

776so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke

777wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with

778Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Ar-

779cher, his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely loue-

780gods, goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift. Exit.