Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 318

by William Shakespeare


  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?

 

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