Watchman
[Aside] I know that Deformed; a’ has been a vile thief this seven year; a’ goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name.
Borachio
Didst thou not hear somebody?
Conrade
No; ’twas the vane on the house.
Borachio
Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily a’ turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty? sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh’s soldiers in the reeky painting, sometime like god Bel’s priests in the old church-window, sometime like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club?
Conrade
All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?
Borachio
Not so, neither: but know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero’s gentlewoman, by the name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress’ chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night,— I tell this tale vilely:— I should first tell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter.
Conrade
And thought they Margaret was Hero?
Borachio
Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o’er night and send her home again without a husband.
First Watchman
We charge you, in the prince’s name, stand!
Second Watchman
Call up the right master constable. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth.
First Watchman
And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; a’ wears a lock.
Conrade
Masters, masters,—
Second Watchman
You’ll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.
Conrade
Masters,—
First Watchman
Never speak: we charge you let us obey you to go with us.
Borachio
We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men’s bills.
Conrade
A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we’ll obey you.
Exeunt
SCENE IV. HERO’S APARTMENT.
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 rabato 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:’ and bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I’ll offend nobody: is there any harm in ‘the heavier for a husband’? None, I think, and 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
’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, and 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 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.
Re-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 to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.
Exeunt
SCENE V. ANOTHER ROOM IN LEONATO’S HOUSE.
Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and 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 it 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 to-night, 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 aspicious 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 Seacole; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: 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-come: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication and meet me at the gaol.
Exeunt
ACT IV
SCENE I. A CHURCH.
Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar Francis, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, 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, 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, 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 vanquish’d 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, show’d
Bashful sincerity and comely love.
Hero
And seem’d 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 pamper’d 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 dishonour’d, 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.
Hero
O, God defend me! how am I beset!
What kind of catechising 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 talk’d with you yesternight
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
Hero
I talk’d 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,
Confess’d 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 swoons
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
Complete Plays, The Page 319