Much Ado About Nothing
Page 8
marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord
honourable without marriage? I think you would have me
say, saving your reverence, ‘a husband’. An bad thinking do
not wrest true speaking, I’ll offend nobody. Is there any
harm in ‘the heavier for a husband’? None, I think, an it be
the right husband and the right wife, otherwise ’tis light and
not heavy. Ask my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes.
Enter Beatrice
HERO Good morrow, coz.
BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero.
HERO Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?
BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks.
MARGARET Clap’s into ‘Light o’ love’ — that goes without a
burden. Do you sing it, and I’ll dance it.
BEATRICE Ye light o’ love with your heels! Then, if your
husband have stables enough, you’ll look he shall lack no
barns.
MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my
heels.
BEATRICE ’Tis almost five o’clock, cousin, ’tis time you were
ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Hey-ho!
MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H.
MARGARET Well, an you be not turned Turk, there’s no more
sailing by the star.
BEATRICE What means the fool, trow?
MARGARET Nothing I, but God send every one their heart’s
desire!
HERO These gloves the Count sent me, they are an
excellent perfume.
BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell.
MARGARET A maid, and stuffed! There’s goodly catching of
cold.
BEATRICE O, God help me, God help me! How long have you
professed apprehension?
MARGARET Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me
rarely?
BEATRICE It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your
cap. By my troth, I am sick.
MARGARET Get you some of this distilled carduus benedictus, and
lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm.
HERO There thou prick’st her with a thistle.
BEATRICE Benedictus? Why benedictus? You have some moral in
this benedictus.
MARGARET Moral? No, by my troth I have no moral meaning, I
meant plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance that I
think you are in love, nay, by’r lady, I am not such a fool to
think what I list, nor I list not to think what I can, nor indeed
I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking,
that you are in love or that you will be in love or that you can
be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he
become a man: he swore he would never marry, and yet now
in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging.
And how you may be converted I know not, but methinks
you look with your eyes as other women do.
BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
MARGARET Not a false gallop.
Enter Ursula
URSULA Madam, withdraw. The prince, the count, Signior
Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town are
come to fetch you to church.
HERO Help me to dress, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.
[Exeunt]
Act 3 Scene 5
running scene 10
Enter Leonato, and the Constable [Dogberry] and the Headborough [Verges]
LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbour?
DOGBERRY Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you
that decerns you nearly.
LEONATO Brief, I pray you, for you see it is a busy time
with me.
DOGBERRY Marry, this it is, sir.
VERGES Yes, in truth it is, sir.
LEONATO What is it, my good friends?
DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the
matter — an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as,
God help, I would desire they were, but, in faith, honest as
the skin between his brows.
VERGES Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living
that is an old man, and no honester than I.
DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour
Verges.
LEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious.
DOGBERRY It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the
poor duke’s officers. But truly, for mine own part, if I were as
tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of
your worship.
LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ah?
DOGBERRY Yea, an ’twere a thousand times more than ’tis, for I
hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in
the city, and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.
VERGES And so am I.
LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say.
VERGES Marry, sir, our watch tonight, excepting your
worship’s presence, have ta’en a couple of as arrant knaves
as any in Messina.
DOGBERRY A good old man, sir, he will be talking. As they say,
‘When the age is in, the wit is out’, God help us, it is a world
to see. Well said, i’faith, neighbour Verges. Well, God’s a good
man, an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An
honest soul, i’faith, sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread.
But God is to be worshipped, all men are not alike, alas, good
neighbour.
LEONATO Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.
DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives.
LEONATO I must leave you.
DOGBERRY One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended
two auspicious persons, and we would have them
this morning examined before your worship.
LEONATO Take their examination yourself and bring it me. I
am now in great haste, as may appear unto you.
DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance.
LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well.
[Enter a Messenger]
MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to
her husband.
LEONATO I’ll wait upon them. I am ready.
Exeunt [Leonato and Messenger]
DOGBERRY Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole, bid
him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to
examination those men.
VERGES And we must do it wisely.
DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. Here’s that
shall drive some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned
writer to set down our excommunication and meet me at
the jail.
Exeunt
Act 4 Scene 1
running scene 11
Enter Prince [Don Pedro, Don John the] Bastard, Leonato, Friar
[Francis], Claudio, Benedick, Hero and Beatrice [and Attendants]
LEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief: only to the plain form
of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties
afterwards.
FRIAR FRANCIS You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.
CLAUDIO No.
LEONATO To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her.
FRIAR FRANCIS Lady, you come hither to be married to this
count.
HERO I do.
FRIAR FRANCIS If either of you know any inward impediment
why you should
not be conjoined, I charge you on your souls
to utter it.
CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero?
HERO None, my lord.
FRIAR FRANCIS Know you any, Count?
LEONATO I dare make his answer, none.
CLAUDIO O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men
daily do, not knowing what they do!
BENEDICK How now? Interjections? Why then, some be of
laughing, as ha, ha, he!
CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave:
Will you with free and unconstrainèd soul
Give me this maid, your daughter?
LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me.
CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
DON PEDRO Nothing, unless you render her again.
CLAUDIO Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.
There, Leonato, take her back again.
Hands Hero to Leonato
Give not this rotten orange to your friend.
She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour.
Behold how like a maid she blushes here.
O, what authority and show of truth
Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood as modest evidence
To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,
All you that see her, that she were a maid,
By these exterior shows? But she is none.
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed:
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
LEONATO What do you mean, my lord?
CLAUDIO Not to be married,
Not to knit my soul to an approvèd wanton.
LEONATO Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,
Have vanquished the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginity—
CLAUDIO I know what you would say: if I have known her,
You will say she did embrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the ’forehand sin.
No, Leonato,
I never tempted her with word too large,
But, as a brother to his sister, showed
Bashful sincerity and comely love.
HERO And seemed I ever otherwise to you?
CLAUDIO Out on thee, seeming! I will write against it.
You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus or those pampered animals
That rage in savage sensuality.
HERO Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide?
LEONATO Sweet prince, why speak not you?
DON PEDRO What should I speak?
I stand dishonoured, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common stale.
LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
DON JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial.
HERO ‘True’? O God!
CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the prince? Is this the prince’s brother?
Is this face Hero’s? Are our eyes our own?
LEONATO All this is so, but what of this, my lord?
CLAUDIO Let me but move one question to your daughter,
And by that fatherly and kindly power
That you have in her, bid her answer truly.
LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
To Hero
HERO O, God defend me, how am I beset!
What kind of catechizing call you this?
CLAUDIO To make you answer truly to your name.
HERO Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
With any just reproach?
CLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero:
Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue.
What man was he talked with you yesternight,
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now if you are a maid, answer to this.
HERO I talked with no man at that hour, my lord.
DON PEDRO Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear. Upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother and this grievèd count
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window,
Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confessed the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.
DON JOHN Fie, fie, they are not to be named, my lord,
Not to be spoken of.
There is not chastity enough in language
Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.
CLAUDIO O Hero! What a Hero hadst thou been,
If half thy outward graces had been placed
About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! Farewell,
Thou pure impiety and impious purity!
For thee I’ll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.
LEONATO Hath no man’s dagger here a point
Hero swoons
for me?
BEATRICE Why, how now, cousin! Wherefore sink you down?
DON JOHN Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light,
Smother her spirits up.
[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John and Claudio]
BENEDICK How doth the lady?
BEATRICE Dead, I think. Help, uncle!
Hero! Why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!
LEONATO O fate! Take not away thy heavy hand.
Death is the fairest cover for her shame
That may be wished for.
BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero!
FRIAR FRANCIS Have comfort, lady.
LEONATO Dost thou look up?
FRIAR FRANCIS Yea, wherefore should she not?
LEONATO Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?
Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes,
For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
Myself would on the rearward of reproaches
Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame?
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates,
Who smearèd thus, and mired with infamy,
I might have said ‘No part of it is mine:
This shame derives itself from unknown loins’?
But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her — why, she, O, she is fallen
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And salt too little which may season give
To her foul-tainted flesh!
BENEDICK Sir, sir, be patient.
For my part, I am so attired in wonder,
I know not what to say.
BEATRICE O, on my soul my cousin is belied!
BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
BEATRICE No, truly not: although until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
LEONATO Confirmed, confirmed! O, that is stronger made
&
nbsp; Which was before barred up with ribs of iron.
Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who loved her so that, speaking of her foulness,
Washed it with tears? Hence from her, let her die.
FRIAR FRANCIS Hear me a little:
For I have only been silent so long,
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady. I have marked
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes,
And in her eye there hath appeared a fire
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool,
Trust not my reading nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenure of my book: trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.
LEONATO Friar, it cannot be.
Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
Is that she will not add to her damnation
A sin of perjury: she not denies it.
Why seek’st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?
FRIAR FRANCIS Lady, what man is he you are accused of?
HERO They know that do accuse me: I know none.
If I know more of any man alive
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father,
Prove you that any man with me conversed
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintained the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!
FRIAR FRANCIS There is some strange misprision in the princes.
BENEDICK Two of them have the very bent of honour,
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.
LEONATO I know not. If they speak but truth of her,
These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honour,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means and choice of friends,