The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  ⌈CONRAD⌉ Masters—

  ⌈A WATCHMAN⌉ Never speak. We charge you. Let us obey you to go with us.

  BORACHIO (to Conrad) We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men’s bills.

  CONRAD A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we’ll obey you. Exeunt

  3.4 Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula

  HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise.

  URSULA I will, lady.

  HERO And bid her come hither.

  URSULA Well. Exit

  MARGARET Troth, I think your other rebato were better.

  HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I’ll wear this.

  MARGARET By my troth, ’s not so good, and I warrant your cousin will say so.

  HERO My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another: I’ll wear none but this.

  MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner. And your gown’s a most rare fashion, i‘faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that they praise so.

  HERO O, that exceeds, they say.

  MARGARET By my troth, ’s but a night-gown in respect of yours—cloth o’ gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts round underborne with a bluish tinsel. But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on’t.

  HERO God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy.

  MARGARET ’Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.

  HERO Fie upon thee, art not ashamed?

  MARGARET Of what, lady? Of speaking honourably ? Is not 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 see he shall lack no barns.

  MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.

  BEATRICE (to Hero) ‘Tis almost five o’clock, cousin. ’Tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Heigh-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 everyone 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 Ever 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 prickest 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 (to Hero) Madam, withdraw. The Prince, the Count, Signor Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church.

  HERO Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. Exeunt

  3.5 Enter Leonato, and Dogberry the constable, and Verges the headborough

  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 pound 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, ha’ 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 it 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 Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to examination these 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-com. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail. Exeunt

  4.1 Enter Don Pedro the Prince, Don John the bastard, Leonato, Friar Francis, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice

  LEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief. Only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.

  FRIAR (to Claudio) You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?

  CLAUDIO No.

  LE
ONATO To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her.

  FRIAR (to Hero) Lady, you come hither to be married to this count?

  HERO I do.

  FRIAR 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 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 ‘ah, ha, he!’

  CLAUDIO

  Stand thee by, Friar. Father, by your leave,

  Will you with free and unconstrained 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.

  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 approved 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 (to Hero)

  I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.

  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 are you no maiden. Leonato,

  I am sorry you must hear. Upon mine honour,

  Myself, my brother, and this grieved 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 spoke 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 for me?

  Hero falls to the ground

  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, Signor 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 (to Hero) Have comfort, lady.

  LEONATO (to Hero) Dost thou look up?

  FRIAR 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 smirched 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 dr
ops 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

  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 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 tenor 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 (to Hero)

  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

  There is some strange misprision in the princes.