Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait:
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
Hero
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.
Approaching the bower
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggerds of the rock.
Ursula
But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
Hero
So says the prince and my new-trothed lord.
Ursula
And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
Hero
They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
Ursula
Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full as fortunate a bed
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
Hero
O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But Nature never framed a woman’s heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on, and her wit
Values itself so highly that to her
All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.
Ursula
Sure, I think so;
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Hero
Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced,
She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut;
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
Ursula
Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
Hero
No, not to be so odd and from all fashions
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable:
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.
Ursula
Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.
Hero
No; rather I will go to Benedick
And counsel him to fight against his passion.
And, truly, I’ll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with: one doth not know
How much an ill word may empoison liking.
Ursula
O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment —
Having so swift and excellent a wit
As she is prized to have — as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
Hero
He is the only man of Italy.
Always excepted my dear Claudio.
Ursula
I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.
Hero
Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Ursula
His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.
When are you married, madam?
Hero
Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in:
I’ll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.
Ursula
She’s limed, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam.
Hero
If it proves so, then loving goes by haps:
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
Exeunt Hero and Ursula
Beatrice
[Coming forward]
What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band;
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly.
Exit
SCENE II. A ROOM IN LEONATO’S HOUSE
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato
Don Pedro
I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon.
Claudio
I’ll bring you thither, my lord, if you’ll vouchsafe me.
Don Pedro
Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth: he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-string and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks.
Benedick
Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leonato
So say I methinks you are sadder.
Claudio
I hope he be in love.
Don Pedro
Hang him, truant! there’s no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched with love: if he be sad, he wants money.
Benedick
I have the toothache.
Don Pedro
Draw it.
Benedick
Hang it!
Claudio
You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
Don Pedro
What! sigh for the toothache?
Leonato
Where is but a humour or a worm.
Benedick
Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.
Claudio
Yet say I, he is in love.
Don Pedro
There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman today, a Frenchman to-morrow, or in the shape of two countries at once, as, a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.
Claudio
If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: a’ brushes his hat o’ mornings; what should that bode?
Don Pedro
Hath any man seen him at the barber’s?
Claudio
No, but the barber’s man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls.
&nbs
p; Leonato
Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.
Don Pedro
Nay, a’ rubs himself with civet: can you smell him out by that?
Claudio
That’s as much as to say, the sweet youth’s in love.
Don Pedro
The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
Claudio
And when was he wont to wash his face?
Don Pedro
Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.
Claudio
Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lute-string and now governed by stops.
Don Pedro
Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude, conclude he is in love.
Claudio
Nay, but I know who loves him.
Don Pedro
That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.
Claudio
Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him.
Don Pedro
She shall be buried with her face upwards.
Benedick
Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear.
Exeunt Benedick and Leonato
Don Pedro
For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.
Claudio
’Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet.
Enter Don John
Don John
My lord and brother, God save you!
Don Pedro
Good den, brother.
Don John
If your leisure served, I would speak with you.
Don Pedro
In private?
Don John
If it please you: yet Count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of concerns him.
Don Pedro
What’s the matter?
Don John
[To Claudio] Means your lordship to be married to-morrow?
Don Pedro
You know he does.
Don John
I know not that, when he knows what I know.
Claudio
If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.
Don John
You may think I love you not: let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage;— surely suit ill spent and labour ill bestowed.
Don Pedro
Why, what’s the matter?
Don John
I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, for she has been too long a talking of, the lady is disloyal.
Claudio
Who, Hero?
Don Pedro
Even she; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero:
Claudio
Disloyal?
Don John
The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say she were worse: think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamber-window entered, even the night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.
Claudio
May this be so?
Don Pedro
I will not think it.
Don John
If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know: if you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly.
Claudio
If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her.
Don Pedro
And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.
Don John
I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself.
Don Pedro
O day untowardly turned!
Claudio
O mischief strangely thwarting!
Don John
O plague right well prevented! so will you say when you have seen the sequel.
Exeunt
SCENE III. A STREET.
Enter Dogberry and Verges with the Watch
Dogberry
Are you good men and true?
Verges
Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul.
Dogberry
Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince’s watch.
Verges
Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.
Dogberry
First, who think you the most desertless man to be constable?
First Watchman
Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read.
Dogberry
Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.
Second Watchman
Both which, master constable,—
Dogberry
You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince’s name.
Second Watchman
How if a’ will not stand?
Dogberry
Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a knave.
Verges
If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince’s subjects.
Dogberry
True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince’s subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured.
Watchman
We will rather sleep than talk: we know what belongs to a watch.
Dogberry
Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed.
Watchman
How if they will not?
Dogberry
Why, then, let them alone till they are sober: if they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for.
Watchman
Well, sir.
Dogberry
If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty.
Watchman
If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?
Dogberry
Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company.
Verges
You have been always called a merciful man, partner.
Dogberry
Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
Verges
If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it.
Watchman
How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear
us?
Dogberry
Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats.
Verges
’Tis very true.
Dogberry
This is the end of the charge:— you, constable, are to present the prince’s own person: if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him.
Verges
Nay, by’r our lady, that I think a’ cannot.
Dogberry
Five shillings to one on’t, with any man that knows the statutes, he may stay him: marry, not without the prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will.
Verges
By’r lady, I think it be so.
Dogberry
Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows’ counsels and your own; and good night. Come, neighbour.
Watchman
Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.
Dogberry
One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch about Signior Leonato’s door; for the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. Adieu: be vigitant, I beseech you.
Exeunt Dogberry and Verges
Enter Borachio and Conrade
Borachio
What Conrade!
Watchman
[Aside] Peace! stir not.
Borachio
Conrade, I say!
Conrade
Here, man; I am at thy elbow.
Borachio
Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow.
Conrade
I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward with thy tale.
Borachio
Stand thee close, then, under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.
Watchman
[Aside] Some treason, masters: yet stand close.
Borachio
Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats.
Conrade
Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?
Borachio
Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will.
Conrade
I wonder at it.
Borachio
That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man.
Conrade
Yes, it is apparel.
Borachio
I mean, the fashion.
Conrade
Yes, the fashion is the fashion.
Borachio
Tush! I may as well say the fool’s the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is?
Complete Plays, The Page 318