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  • Title: Much Ado About Nothing (Quarto 1, 1600)
  • Editor: Gretchen Minton
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-516-2

    Copyright Gretchen Minton. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Gretchen Minton
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Much Ado About Nothing (Quarto 1, 1600)

    about Nothing.
    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
    monie in Gods name, the which he hath vsde so long, & neuer
    paied, that now men grow hard hearted and wil lend nothing
    for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point.
    2400Leonato I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines.
    Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankful and re-
    uerent youth, and I praise God for you.
    Leon. Theres for thy paines.
    Const. God saue the foundation.
    2405Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thanke
    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,
    2410God restore you to health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart
    and if a merie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come
    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.
    2420Leonato Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with Mar-
    garet, how her acquaintance grew with this lewd felow.
    Enter Benedicke and Margaret.
    Bened. Praie thee sweete mistris Margaret, deserue well at
    2425my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.
    Mar. Wil you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beau-
    Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing shall
    2430come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest it.
    Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why shal I alwaies
    keep below staires.
    Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it
    Mar. And your's, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit,
    but hurt not.