Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and Attendants, with musick and tapers. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? Atten. It is, my lord. Claud. Reads from a scroll.] Done to death by slanderous tongues Gives her fame which never dies: So the life, that died with shame, Hang thou there upon the tomb, [affixing it. Now, musick, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit me: — - You know your office, brother; You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd counte nance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, signior? Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them. Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'Tis most true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The sight whereof, think, you had from me, From Claudio, and the prince; But what's your will? Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : But, for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd In the estate of honourable marriage; In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. Leon. My heart is with your liking. Friar. And my help. Here comes the prince, and Claudio. Enter Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO, with Attendants. D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio; We here attend you; Are you yet determin'd To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar ready. [Exit ANTONIO. D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: Why, what's That the matter, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? you have such a February face, Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull: Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And all Europa shall rejoice at thee; As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat, Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked. Claud. For this I owe you here come other reckonings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine: Sweet, let me see your face. Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar; I am your husband, if you like of me. Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife: [Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do propose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends: - let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play mu sick. SCENE I. ACT I. - Athens. A Room in the Palace of Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANder, and DemetriUS. Theses. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants. The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Four nights will quickly dream away the time; Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! The. Thanks, good Egeus: What's the news with thee? Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia. Stand forth, Demetrius ; — My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her: Stand forth, Lysander; and, my gracious duke, This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child: Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchang'd love-tokens with my child : Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats; messengers Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth : With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart; Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me, To stubborn harshness: ;- And, my gracious duke, Be it so she will not here before your grace Consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; As she is mine, I may dispose of her : Which shall be either to this gentleman, Or to her death; according to our law, Immediately provided in that case. And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair Upon this spotted and inconstant man. The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. The. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, The. Take time to pause; and, by the next new The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; But, being over-full of self-affairs, My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; I must employ you in some business [Exeunt THES. HIP. EGE. DEM. and train. Lys. How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike for want of rain; which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes. Lys. Ah me! for ought that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth: Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low! Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross', Then let us teach our trial patience, As due to love, as thoughts and dreams, and sighs, And, Lysander, I have a widow aunt, a dowager Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, Of great revenue, and she hath no child; Her. My good Lysander' More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. Hel. O, that my prayers could such affection move! Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my face; Lysander and myself will fly this place. Before the time I did Lysander see, Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: O then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell! Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: To-morrow night when Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, (A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,) Through Athen's gates have we devis'd to steal. Her. And in the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet; There my Lysander and myself shall meet: And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes, To seek new friends and stranger companies. Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us, And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight. [Exit HERM. Lys. I will, my Hermia. Helena adieu: As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! [Exit Lys. Hel. How happy some, o'er other some can be! Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; [Ext. SCENE II. The same. A Room in a Cottage. Enter SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, QUINCE, and STARVELING. Quin. Is all our company here? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. Quin. Marry, our play is― The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll: Masters, spread yourselves. Quin. Answer, as I call you.. Nick Bottom, the weaver. |