nanie. D. John. I know not that, when he knows what be the most senseless and fit man for the constable i know. of the watch ; therefore bear you the lantern : This Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, is your charge; You shall comprehend all vagrom discover it. men ; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's D. John. You may think, I love you not; let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that 2 Watch. How if he will not stand ? I now will manifest. For my brother, I think, he Dogb. Why then, take no note of him, but let bolds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp him go; and presently call the rest of the watch toto effect your ensuing marriage : surely, suit ill gether, and thank God you are rid of a knave. spent, and labour ili bestowed ! Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter ? is none of the prince's subjects. D. John. I came hither to tell you : and, circum- Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none stances shortened, (for she hath been too long a talk- but the prince's subjects : - You shall also make no ing of,) the lady is disloyal. noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble Claud. Who? Hero? and talk, is most tolerable and not to be endured. D. John. Even she ; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, 2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk; we every man's Hero. know what belongs to a watch. Claud. Disloyal ? Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most D. John. The word is too good to paint out her quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you should offend : only, have a care that your bills be of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not stolen : Well, you are to call at all the alenot till further warrant: go but with me to-night, houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. you shall see her chamber-window entered ; even 2 Watch. How if they will not ? the night before her wedding-day: if you love her Dogb. Why then, let them alone till they are then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit sober; if they make you not then the better answer, your honour to change your mind. you may say, they are not the men yov •ook them for. Claud. May this be so ? 2 Watch. Well, sir. D. Pedro. I will not think it. Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, con- by virtue of your office, to be no true man : and, fuss not that you know: if you will follow me, I for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make will show you enough; and when you have seen with them, why, the more is for your honesty. inore, and heard more, proceed accordingly. 2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should not lay hands on him? not marry her to-morrow; in the congregation, Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but, I where I should wed, there will I shame her. hink, they that touch pitch will be defiled: the D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thiet, her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. is, to let him show himself what he is, and steal out D. John. I will disparage her no farther, till you of your company. are my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight, Verg. You have been always called a merciful and let the issue show itself. man, partner. D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned ! Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting ! will; much more a man who hath any honesty in D. John. O plague right well prevented ! him. So will you say, when you have seen the sequel. Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you [Exeunt. must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. SCENE III. – A Street. 2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Enter Dog BERRY and VERGES, with the Watch. Dogb. Why then, depart in peace, and let the Dogb. Are you good men and true? child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a suffer salvation, body and soul. calf when he bleats. Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good Verg. 'Tis very true. for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, conbeing chosen for the prince's watch. stable, are to present the prince's own person ; if Very. Well, give them their charge, neighbour you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. Dogberry: Verg. Nay by’r lady, that, I think, he cannot. Dogb. First, who think you the most desartless Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man man to be constable ? that knows the statues, he may stay him: marry, 1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Sea- not without the prince be willing : for, indeed, the oal ; for they can write and read. watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal: God to stay a man against his will. liath blessed you with a good name: to be a well- Verg. By'r lady, I think, it be 0. favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night : and read comes by nature. an there be any matter of weight chances, call up 2 Watch. Both which, master constable, me: keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and Dogb. You have ; I knew it would be your an- good night. Come, neighbour. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God 2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge : let thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and writing and reading, let that appear when there is then all to-bed. no need of such vanity. You are thought here to Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours. I and now swer. pray you, watch about signior Leonato's door ; for but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great slander that Don John had made, away went Claua coil to-night: Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you. dio enraged ; swore he would meet her as he was (Ereunt DogBERRY and Verges. appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, Enter BORACHIO ana CONRADE. before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw over-night, and send her home again without Bora. What! Conrade, a husband. Watch. Peace, stir not. (Aside. 1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, Bora. Conrade, I say ! stand. Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. 2 Watch. Call up the right master Constable : we Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought, have here recovered the most dangerous piece of daure would a scab follow. lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. Con. I will owe thee an answer for that ; 1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them; I 1.irward with thy tale. know him, he wears a lock. Bora. Stand thee close then under this pent. Con. Masters, masters. ibuse, for it drizzles rain ; and I will, like a true 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, Irunkard, utter all to thee. I warrant you. Watch. (aside. Some treason, masters; yet stand Con. Masters, – close. 1 Watch. Never speak; we charge you, let us Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don obey you to go with us. john a thousand ducats. Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, Con. Is it possible that any villainy should be so being taken up of these men's bills. dear? Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possi- Come, we'll obey you. ole any villainy should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may SCENE IV. A Room in Leonato's House. make what price they will. Con. I wonder at it. Enter Hero, MARGARET, and Ursula. Bora. That shows, thou art unconfirmed: Thou Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, xnowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a and desire her to rise. cloak, is nothing to a man. Urs. I will, lady. Con. Yes, it is apparel. Hero. And bid her come hither. Bora. I mean, the fashion. Urs. Well. [Exit Ursula. Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato were Bora. Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the better. fool. But see'st thou not what a deformed thief this Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. fashion is? Marg. By my troth, it's not so good; and I Watch. I know that Deformed; he has been a warrant, your cousin will say so. vile thief this seven year; he goes up and down like Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another; a gentleman : I remember his name. I'll wear none but this. Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if Con. No; 'twas the vane on the house. the hair were a thought browner : and your gown's Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed a most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the duchess of thief this fashion is ? how giddily he turns about all Milan's gown, that they praise so. the hot bloods, between fourteen and five and thirty ? Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. sometime, fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers Marg. By my troth it's but a night gown in in the reechy painting ; sometime, like god Bel's respect of your's : Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced priests in the old church window; sometime, like with silver ; set with pearls, down sleeves, sidethe shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a blueish tapestry, where his cod-piece seems as massy as his tinsel : but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excelclub? lent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. Con. All this I see; and see, that the fashion Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart wears out more apparel than the man : But art not is exceeding heavy! thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ? Hero. Fye upon thee! art not ashamed ? Bora. Not so neither : but know, that I have to- Marg. Of what lady? of speaking honourably? night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentle- | Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not woman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at your lord honourable without marriage! I think, her mistress chamber window, bids me a thousand you would have me say, saving your reverence, times good night, - I tell this tale vilely:- I should a husband : an bad thinking do not wrest true speakfirst tell thee, how the Prince, Claudio, and my ing, I'll offend nobody: Is there any harm in master, planted, and placed, and possessed by my the heavier for a husband ? None, I think, an it be master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this the right husband, and the right wife ; otherwise uniable encounter. 'tis light, and not heavy : Ask my lady Beatrice Con. And thought they, Margaret was Hero? else, here she comes. Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; Enter BEATRICE. but the devil my master knew she was Margaret ; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, Hero. Good morrow, coz. partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. man. : : Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in the sick Leon. Brief, I pray you ; for you see, 'tis a busy tune? time with me. Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir. Marg. Clap us into - Light o' love; that goes l'erg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. without a burden ; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. Leon. What is it, my good friends. Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels! — then Doub. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he the matter : an old man, sir, and his wits are not shall lack no barns. so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; Murg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that but, in faith, honest, as the skin between his brows. with my heels. Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any Beat. "Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time man living, that is an old man, and no honester you were ready. By my troth I am exceeding ill :- than I. hey ho! Dogb. Comparisons are odorous : palabras, neighMurg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? bour Verges. Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we no more sailing by the star. are the poor duke's officers; but, truly, for mine Beat. What means the fool, trow? own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. heart's desire ! Leon. All thy tediousness on me! ha! Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more an excellent perfume. than 'tis : for I hear as good exclamation on your Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. worship, as of any man in the city; and though I Marg. A maid, and stuffed ! there's goodly catch- be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. ing of cold. Verg. And so am I. Beat. 0, God help me! God help me ! how long Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. have you profess'd apprehension ? Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting Marg. Ever since you left it: doth not my wit your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as become me rarely ? arrant knaves as any in Messina. Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it Dogb. A good old man, sir ; he will be talking; in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out; God Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus help us! it is a world to see! Well said, i'faith, Benedictus, and lay it to your heart ; it is the only neighbour Verges : — well, God's a good man; an thing for a qualm. two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind : Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. An honest soul, i'faith, sir ; by my troth he is, as Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus ? you have ever broke bread: but God is to be worshipped : some moral in this Benedictus. All men are not alike ; alas, good neighbour ! Marg. Moral ? no, by my troth, I have no moral Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may you. think, perchance, that I think you are in love: nay, Dogb. Gifts, that God gives. by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; Lem. I must leave you. nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I Doub. One word, sir : our watch, sir, have, incannot think, if I would think my heart out of deed, comprehended two aspicious persons, and we thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in would have them this morning examined before love, or that you can be in love : yet Benedick was your worship. such another, and now is he become a man : he Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite it me; I am now in great haste, as it may appear of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging: unto you. and how you may be converted, I know not; but, me- Dogb. It shall be suffigance. thinks, you look wish your eyes as other women do. Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your Urs. Madam, withdraw ; the prince, the count, daughter to her husband. signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants Leon. I will wait upon them ; I am reaay. of the town, are come to fetch you to church. (Ereunt LEONATO and Messenger. Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis good Ursula. [Ereunt. Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now to examination these men. SCENE V. - Another Room in Leonato's House. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Enter LEONATO, with DogBERRY and VERGES. Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you ; here's that (touching his forehead.) shall drive some Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh- of them to a non com : only get the learned writer bour? to set down our excommunication, and meet me al Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence the gaol. (Ereunt with you, that decerns you nearly. a ACT IV. are true. SCENE I. - The Inside of a Church. As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar, Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals But you are more intemperate in your biood CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, and BEATRICE, &c. That rage in savage sensuality. Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief ; only to the Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wive: plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you? particular duties afterwards. D. Pedro. What should I speak? Friar. You come hither, mylord, to marry this lady? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about Claud. No. To link my dear friend to a common stale. Leon. To be married to her, friar ; you come to Leon. Are these things spoken? or do I but dream? marry her. D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Hero. I do. Hero. True, O God Friar. If either of you know any inward impedi- Claud. Leonato, stand I here? ment why you should not be conjoined, I charge Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother' you, on your souls, to utter it. Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own? Claud. Know you any, Hero? Leon. All this is so; But what of this, my lord ? Hero. None, my lord. Claud. Let me but move one question to your Friar. Know you any, count? daughter; Leon. I dare make his answer, none. And, by that fatherly and kindly power Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! | That you have in her, bid her answer truly. what men daily do! not knowing what they do! Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Bene. How now! Interjections? Why, then some Hero. O God defend me! how am I beset ! te of laughing, as, ha! ha! he! What kind of catechising call you this? Claud. Stand thee by, friar : – Father, by your Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. leave; Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name Will you with free and unconstrained soul With any just reproach? Give me this maid, your daughter ? Claud Marry, that can Hero ; Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose What man was he talk'd with you yesternight worth Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one ? May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank- D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. fulness. Leonato, There, Leonato, take her back again ; I am sorry you must hear ; Upon mine honour, Give not this rotten orange to your friend; Myself, my brother, and this grieved count, She's but the sign and semblance of her honour :- Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night, Behold, how like a maid she blushes here: Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window; 1), what authority and show of truth Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, Can cunning sin cover itself withal ! Confess'd the vile encounters they have had Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, A thousand times in secret. To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, D. John. Fy, fye! they are All you that see her, that she were a maid, Not to be nam'd my lord, not to be spoke of; liy these exterior shows? But she is none : There is not chastity enough in language. She knows the heat of a luxurious bed : Without offence, to utter them : Thus, pretty lady, Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. Leon. What do you mean, my lord ? Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, Claud. Not to be married, If half thy outward graces had been placed Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart ! Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity ! And made defeat of her virginity, For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, Claud. I know what you would say ; If I have And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang, known her, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? No, Leonato, [Hero Swonres. I never tempted her with word too large; Beat. Why, how now, cousin ? wherefore sink But, as a brother to his sister show'd Bashful sincerity, and comely love. D. John. Come, let us go : these things, come Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? thus to light, Claud. Out on thy seeming! I will write agair.st it: Smother her spirits up. You seemn to ine as Dian in her orb; (Exeunt Don Pedro), Don John, and Cl.AUDI you down? none: you that Bene. How doth the lady? Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse Beat. Dead, I think ; - help, uncle; That which appears in proper nakedness? Hero! why, Hero ! — Uncle ! — Signior Benedick! Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? - friar ! Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand ! Death is the fairest cover for her shame, If I know more of any man alive. That may be wish'd for. Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Beat. How now, cousin Hero? Let all my sins lack mercy! - O my father, Friar. Have comfort, lady. Prove any man with me convers'd Leon. Dost thou look up? At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Friar. Yea; Wherefore should she not? Maintain’d the change of words with any creature, Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. thing Friar. There is some strange misprision in the Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny princes. The story that is printed in her blood ? Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour; Do not live, Hero ; do not ope thine eyes : And if their wisdoms be misled in this, Leon. I know not; If they speak but truth of her, Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her hoChid I for that at frugal nature's frame? nour, O, one too much by thee! Why had I one ? The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Why had I not with charitable hand, Nor age so eat up my invention, Took up a beggar's issue at my gates; Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind, Friar. Pause a while, Your daughter here the princes left for dead; And publish it that she is dead indeed : Maintain a mourning ostentation ; Bene. Sir, sir, be patient : And on your family's old monument For my part I am so attir'd in wonder, Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites I know not what to say. That appertain unto a burial. Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied ! Leon. What shall become of this? What will Bene. Lady, where you her bedfellow last night? this do? Beat. No, truly not; although, until last night Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. behalf Leon. Confirm’d, confirm'd! O, that is stronger Change slander to remorse; that is some good : made, But not for that, dream I on this strange course, Which was before barr’d up with ribs of iron ! But on this travail look for greater birth. Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie? She dying, as it must be so maintain’d, Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Upon the instant that she was accus'd, Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her ; let her Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd, die. Of every hearer: For it so falls out, Friar. Hear me a little ; That what we have we prize not to the worth, For I have only been silent so long, Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, And given way unto this course of fortune, Why, then we rack the value, then we find By noting of the lady ; I have mark'd The virtue, that possession would not show us A thousand blushing apparitions start Whiles it was ours: So will it fare with Claudio : Into her face; a thousand innocent shames When he shall hear she died upon his words, In angel whiteness bear away those blushes; The idea of her life shall sweetly creep And in her eye there hath appear’d'a fire, Into his study of imagination; And every lovely organ of her life More moving-delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, The tenour of my book; trust not my age, Than when she liv'd indeed :— then shall he mour, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, (If ever love had interest in his liver), If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here And wish he had not so accused her; Under some biting error. No, though he thought his accusation true. Friar, it cannot be : Let this be so, and doubt not but success Than I can lay it down in likelihood. 1 sin of perjury; she not denies it: But if all aim but this be levell'd false, |
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