So this is my first blog…


Live to Eat!
November 3, 2008, 6:06 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

My obsession with food is one that is well known by all who know me. Whether it’s ordering a pizza during classtime and eating under the desk in the science labs or forcing myself to eat that extra piece of chocolate cake which I know will make me feel bad later… I find myself in a predicament that I rather enjoy (*strangely enough…).

Creativity and food, for me, go hand in hand and when I’m feeling up to it, creating interesting food blends is one of my favourite pastimes. OK, so stomach aches from mixing the peanut butter, chilli sauce, onions, vegemite and strawberry jam on a sandwich may not have been the best idea, but the whole experience of doing something that’s a little out there with food is a completely satisfying experience for me. Take for example Marshmallow Salad. It contains mandarins/ oranges, marshmallows and…*drum roll* sour cream. Yes I know it sounds bizarre and a little sickening but take it from me,there is no better movie food than this. Or how about Ravioli with mushroom and wine sauce and fishballs? My sister’s creation- and I was almost certain the combination would not mix (blasphemy to pasta!>__< mdr) but it did and surprise, surprise, I now love fishball ravioli.

So the moral of my little rant? Well take it from me, people are always ridiculing/ making faces at me for my outrageous and sometimes quite gross creations. But if you never try then you’ll never know whether or not peanut butter cookies and onions go together or not and believe me, one of the most satisfying things in life is to watch the look of esctasy turn to horror on your friend’s and family’s faces when they realise that the chocolate cake they loved contains pumpkin puree’. :)



Being a grown up is hard work
September 13, 2007, 8:30 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Ever think back to when you were a kid and realise how much you’ve grown? I do that alot-especially looking back at stupid things I’ve done as a kid. I can look back now and laugh at all the annoying things I did as a kid or the downright stupid things I did.

One occasion that comes to mind at the moment is the time I chucked a prawn shell over the fence of my cousin’s house. He did then dared me to do it too. Me,being the gullible girl I was, followed him. He then ran inside and dobbed me in to ALL the relatives gathered that day (the shells had landed in the convertible in the carpark over the fence). It was so mortifying and I was angry too! My cousin kept denying that he had done anything at all and when I tried to explain that I was just following what he ahd been doing, everyone thought that I was lying and from then on I didn’t exactly have the best reputation in the family anymore…

OK,so that was a little long winded. But I expect that’s OK since I don’t expect anyone to read this post. I’m just whinging about myself because I’m bored>and before whoever’s reading this (I doubt anyone’s reading this)tells me to get a life and stop whinging because it could be soo much worse, I’m telling you to shut the hell up. I’ve had a rather annoying week filled with teachers who I’d love to congratulate on bringing my murderous side out and my stress levels up and assessment tasks and exams that haven’t seemed to stop coming yet. Either way it sucked for me and I don’t need someone telling to look at life from a “third world country,impoverished kind of view”.So even if you’re not reading this I’m telling the non existent you to stick it.

Anyways,where was I? Oh yes. Before I started bi@$#ing about my week I was talking about my childhood. I really miss the simplicity of it all. The times when you could run around and fling mud at your classmates and everyone’d just say that you were at “that age” or something like that. When you could sing nonsense rhymes and people thought you were cute;not bonkers. And when I didn’t feel the pressures of being grown up in a society that expects me to be another sheep in the flock. Being grown up is so much harder tan I thought it would be.

I remember when I was a little girl I used to imagine myself in the lap of luxury-driving a fast car (or was that just actually being able to drive?),living in a house surrounded by friends and family who adored me for all my capabilities in life.
Nowadays, I’m surrounded by friends that accept me for who I am and encourage me to do whatever I want to, family that expects me to be the perfect role model for my two siblings, no car and I’m still living with my mum so I suppose we’ll get to the house issue when I save up enough. You see what I mean??? I never had these sorts of thought when I was a kid. I never thought that far ahead. I wish I could go back and reflect on all those delusions of grandeur; back when they weren’t delusions and I called them dreams. I still have dreams of course, they’re just different to when I didn’t have a clue about the real world.

Well, I suppose that wraps up my whinge for the week (possibly the month since I don’t post very often).

p.s. Whoever that dick was that told me to get a life and then started swearing at me for posting “Much Ado About Nothing” is obviously an uneducated arse with no other goals in life than to make others feel bad about their literary opinions. F!@#k off and have a shit life you wanker.



Much Ado About Nothing-William Shakespeare (act5)
June 17, 2007, 10:11 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Act five of “Much Ado About Nothing”. This is the last act- I often wonder how Benedick and Claudio stopped being prats that quickly… Well, this is the last in this play for today- might post another one later.

ACT V
SCENE I. Before LEONATO’S house.

Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO 
ANTONIO 
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself:
And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief
Against yourself.

LEONATO 
I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve: give not me counsel;
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Bring me a father that so loved his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine,
And bid him speak of patience;
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine
And let it answer every strain for strain,
As thus for thus and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form:
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘hem!’ when he should groan,
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.
But there is no such man: for, brother, men
Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ache with air and agony with words:
No, no; ’tis all men’s office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency
To be so moral when he shall endure
The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel:
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

ANTONIO 
Therein do men from children nothing differ.

LEONATO 
I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood;
For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently,
However they have writ the style of gods
And made a push at chance and sufferance.

ANTONIO 
Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself;
Make those that do offend you suffer too.

LEONATO 
There thou speak’st reason: nay, I will do so.
My soul doth tell me Hero is belied;
And that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince
And all of them that thus dishonour her.

ANTONIO 
Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily.

Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO

DON PEDRO 
Good den, good den.

CLAUDIO 
Good day to both of you.

LEONATO 
Hear you. My lords,–

DON PEDRO 
We have some haste, Leonato.

LEONATO 
Some haste, my lord! Well, fare you well, my lord:
Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one.

DON PEDRO 
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.

ANTONIO 
If he could right himself with quarreling,
Some of us would lie low.

CLAUDIO 
Who wrongs him?

LEONATO 
Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou:–
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword;
I fear thee not.

CLAUDIO 
Marry, beshrew my hand,
If it should give your age such cause of fear:
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.

LEONATO 
Tush, tush, man; never fleer and jest at me:
I speak not like a dotard nor a fool,
As under privilege of age to brag
What I have done being young, or what would do
Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong’d mine innocent child and me
That I am forced to lay my reverence by
And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.
I say thou hast belied mine innocent child;
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lies buried with her ancestors;
O, in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, framed by thy villany!

CLAUDIO 
My villany?

LEONATO 
Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.

DON PEDRO 
You say not right, old man.

LEONATO 
My lord, my lord,
I’ll prove it on his body, if he dare,
Despite his nice fence and his active practise,
His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.

CLAUDIO 
Away! I will not have to do with you.

LEONATO 
Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill’d my child:
If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.

ANTONIO 
He shall kill two of us, and men indeed:
But that’s no matter; let him kill one first;
Win me and wear me; let him answer me.
Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me:
Sir boy, I’ll whip you from your foining fence;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

LEONATO 
Brother,–

ANTONIO 
Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece;
And she is dead, slander’d to death by villains,
That dare as well answer a man indeed
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue:
Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!

LEONATO 
Brother Antony,–

ANTONIO 
Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea,
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,–
Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys,
That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander,
Go anticly, show outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
And this is all.

LEONATO 
But, brother Antony,–

ANTONIO 
Come, ’tis no matter:
Do not you meddle; let me deal in this.

DON PEDRO 
Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.
My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death:
But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing
But what was true and very full of proof.

LEONATO 
My lord, my lord,–

DON PEDRO 
I will not hear you.

LEONATO 
No? Come, brother; away! I will be heard.

ANTONIO 
And shall, or some of us will smart for it.

Exeunt LEONATO and ANTONIO

DON PEDRO 
See, see; here comes the man we went to seek.

Enter BENEDICK

CLAUDIO 
Now, signior, what news?

BENEDICK 
Good day, my lord.

DON PEDRO 
Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part
almost a fray.

CLAUDIO 
We had like to have had our two noses snapped off
with two old men without teeth.

DON PEDRO 
Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had
we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.

BENEDICK 
In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came
to seek you both.

CLAUDIO 
We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are
high-proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten
away. Wilt thou use thy wit?

BENEDICK 
It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it?

DON PEDRO 
Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?

CLAUDIO 
Never any did so, though very many have been beside
their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the
minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.

DON PEDRO 
As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou
sick, or angry?

CLAUDIO 
What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat,
thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

BENEDICK 
Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you
charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.

CLAUDIO 
Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was
broke cross.

DON PEDRO 
By this light, he changes more and more: I think
he be angry indeed.

CLAUDIO 
If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.

BENEDICK 
Shall I speak a word in your ear?

CLAUDIO 
God bless me from a challenge!

BENEDICK 
[Aside to CLAUDIO] You are a villain; I jest not:
I will make it good how you dare, with what you
dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will
protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet
lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me
hear from you.

CLAUDIO 
Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

DON PEDRO 
What, a feast, a feast?

CLAUDIO 
I’ faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf’s
head and a capon; the which if I do not carve most
curiously, say my knife’s naught. Shall I not find
a woodcock too?

BENEDICK 
Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.

DON PEDRO 
I’ll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the
other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: ‘True,’
said she, ‘a fine little one.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘a
great wit:’ ‘Right,’ says she, ‘a great gross one.’
‘Nay,’ said I, ‘a good wit:’ ‘Just,’ said she, ‘it
hurts nobody.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘the gentleman
is wise:’ ‘Certain,’ said she, ‘a wise gentleman.’
‘Nay,’ said I, ‘he hath the tongues:’ ‘That I
believe,’ said she, ‘for he swore a thing to me on
Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning;
there’s a double tongue; there’s two tongues.’ Thus
did she, an hour together, transshape thy particular
virtues: yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou
wast the properest man in Italy.

CLAUDIO 
For the which she wept heartily and said she cared
not.

DON PEDRO 
Yea, that she did: but yet, for all that, an if she
did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly:
the old man’s daughter told us all.

CLAUDIO 
All, all; and, moreover, God saw him when he was
hid in the garden.

DON PEDRO 
But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on
the sensible Benedick’s head?

CLAUDIO 
Yea, and text underneath, ‘Here dwells Benedick the
married man’?

BENEDICK 
Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave
you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests
as braggarts do their blades, which God be thanked,
hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank
you: I must discontinue your company: your brother
the bastard is fled from Messina: you have among
you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord
Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet: and, till
then, peace be with him.

Exit

DON PEDRO 
He is in earnest.

CLAUDIO 
In most profound earnest; and, I’ll warrant you, for
the love of Beatrice.

DON PEDRO 
And hath challenged thee.

CLAUDIO 
Most sincerely.

DON PEDRO 
What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his
doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!

CLAUDIO 
He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a
doctor to such a man.

DON PEDRO 
But, soft you, let me be: pluck up, my heart, and
be sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled?

Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO

DOGBERRY 
Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she
shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay,
an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.

DON PEDRO 
How now? Two of my brother’s men bound! Borachio
one!

CLAUDIO 
Hearken after their offence, my lord.

DON PEDRO 
Officers, what offence have these men done?

DOGBERRY 
Marry, sir, they have committed false report;
moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily,
they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have
belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust
things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.

DON PEDRO 
First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I
ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and lastly, why
they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay
to their charge.

CLAUDIO 
Rightly reasoned, and in his own division: and, by
my troth, there’s one meaning well suited.

DON PEDRO 
Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus
bound to your answer? This learned constable is
too cunning to be understood: what’s your offence?

BORACHIO 
Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer:
do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have
deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms
could not discover, these shallow fools have brought
to light: who in the night overheard me confessing
to this man how Don John your brother incensed me
to slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into
the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s
garments, how you disgraced her, when you should
marry her: my villany they have upon record; which
I had rather seal with my death than repeat over
to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my
master’s false accusation; and, briefly, I desire
nothing but the reward of a villain.

DON PEDRO 
Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?

CLAUDIO 
I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it.

DON PEDRO 
But did my brother set thee on to this?

BORACHIO 
Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it.

DON PEDRO 
He is composed and framed of treachery:
And fled he is upon this villany.

CLAUDIO 
Sweet Hero! Now thy image doth appear
In the rare semblance that I loved it first.

DOGBERRY 
Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our
sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter:
and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time
and place shall serve, that I am an ass.

VERGES 
Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the
Sexton too.

Re-enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, with the Sexton

LEONATO 
Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes,
That, when I note another man like him,
I may avoid him: which of these is he?

BORACHIO 
If you would know your wronger, look on me.

LEONATO 
Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill’d
Mine innocent child?

BORACHIO 
Yea, even I alone.

LEONATO 
No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself:
Here stand a pair of honourable men;
A third is fled, that had a hand in it.
I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death:
Record it with your high and worthy deeds:
‘Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

CLAUDIO 
I know not how to pray your patience;
Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself;
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not
But in mistaking.

DON PEDRO 
By my soul, nor I:
And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he’ll enjoin me to.

LEONATO 
I cannot bid you bid my daughter live;
That were impossible: but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here
How innocent she died; and if your love
Can labour ought in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb
And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night:
To-morrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copy of my child that’s dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us:
Give her the right you should have given her cousin,
And so dies my revenge.

CLAUDIO 
O noble sir,
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me!
I do embrace your offer; and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.

LEONATO 
To-morrow then I will expect your coming;
To-night I take my leave. This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I believe was pack’d in all this wrong,
Hired to it by your brother.

BORACHIO 
No, by my soul, she was not,
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,
But always hath been just and virtuous
In any thing that I do know by her.

DOGBERRY 
Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and
black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call
me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his
punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of
one Deformed: they say be wears a key in his ear and
a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God’s
name, the which he hath used so long and never paid
that now men grow hard-hearted and will lend nothing
for God’s sake: pray you, examine him upon that point.

LEONATO 
I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.

DOGBERRY 
Your worship speaks like a most thankful and
reverend youth; and I praise God for you.

LEONATO 
There’s for thy pains.

DOGBERRY 
God save the foundation!

LEONATO 
Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.

DOGBERRY 
I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I
beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the
example of others. God keep your worship! I wish
your worship well; God restore you to health! I
humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry
meeting may be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.

Exeunt DOGBERRY and VERGES

\LEONATO 
Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.

ANTONIO 
Farewell, my lords: we look for you to-morrow.

DON PEDRO 
We will not fail.

CLAUDIO 
To-night I’ll mourn with Hero.

LEONATO 
[To the Watch] Bring you these fellows on. We’ll
talk with Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

Exeunt, severally

SCENE II. LEONATO’S garden.

Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting 
BENEDICK 
Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at
my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.

MARGARET 
Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?

BENEDICK 
In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living
shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou
deservest it.

MARGARET 
To have no man come over me! Why, shall I always
keep below stairs?

BENEDICK 
Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound’s mouth; it catches.

MARGARET 
And yours as blunt as the fencer’s foils, which hit,
but hurt not.

BENEDICK 
A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a
woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give
thee the bucklers.

MARGARET 
Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.

BENEDICK 
If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the
pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids.

MARGARET 
Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.

BENEDICK 
And therefore will come.

Exit MARGARET

Sings

The god of love,
That sits above,
And knows me, and knows me,
How pitiful I deserve,–
I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good
swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and
a whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mangers,
whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a
blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned
over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I
cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find
out no rhyme to ‘lady’ but ‘baby,’ an innocent
rhyme; for ‘scorn,’ ‘horn,’ a hard rhyme; for,
‘school,’ ‘fool,’ a babbling rhyme; very ominous
endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet,
nor I cannot woo in festival terms.

Enter BEATRICE

Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?

BEATRICE 
Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.

BENEDICK 
O, stay but till then!

BEATRICE 
‘Then’ is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere
I go, let me go with that I came; which is, with
knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.

BENEDICK 
Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.

BEATRICE 
Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but
foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I
will depart unkissed.

BENEDICK 
Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense,
so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee
plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either
I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe
him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for
which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?

BEATRICE 
For them all together; which maintained so politic
a state of evil that they will not admit any good
part to intermingle with them. But for which of my
good parts did you first suffer love for me?

BENEDICK 
Suffer love! A good epithet! I do suffer love
indeed, for I love thee against my will.

BEATRICE 
In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart!
If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for
yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.

BENEDICK 
Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

BEATRICE 
It appears not in this confession: there’s not one
wise man among twenty that will praise himself.

BENEDICK 
An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in
the lime of good neighbours. If a man do not erect
in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live
no longer in monument than the bell rings and the
widow weeps.

BEATRICE 
And how long is that, think you?

BENEDICK 
Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in
rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the
wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no
impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his
own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for
praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is
praiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin?

BEATRICE 
Very ill.

BENEDICK 
And how do you?

BEATRICE 
Very ill too.

BENEDICK 
Serve God, love me and mend. There will I leave
you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter URSULA

URSULA 
Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder’s old
coil at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been
falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily
abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is
fed and gone. Will you come presently?

BEATRICE 
Will you go hear this news, signior?

BENEDICK 
I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be
buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with
thee to thy uncle’s.

Exeunt

SCENE III. A church.

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and three or four with tapers 
CLAUDIO 
Is this the monument of Leonato?

Lord 
It is, my lord.

CLAUDIO 
[Reading out of a scroll]
Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life that died with shame
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb.
Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
SONG.
Pardon, goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily:
Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
Till death be uttered,
Heavily, heavily.

CLAUDIO 
Now, unto thy bones good night!
Yearly will I do this rite.

DON PEDRO 
Good morrow, masters; put your torches out:
The wolves have prey’d; and look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.
Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well.

CLAUDIO 
Good morrow, masters: each his several way.

DON PEDRO 
Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;
And then to Leonato’s we will go.

CLAUDIO 
And Hymen now with luckier issue speed’s
Than this for whom we render’d up this woe.

Exeunt

SCENE IV. A room in LEONATO’S house.

Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE, MARGARET, URSULA, FRIAR FRANCIS, and HERO 
FRIAR FRANCIS 
Did I not tell you she was innocent?

LEONATO 
So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her
Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.

ANTONIO 
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.

BENEDICK 
And so am I, being else by faith enforced
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

LEONATO 
Well, daughter, and you gentle-women all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
And when I send for you, come hither mask’d.

Exeunt Ladies

The prince and Claudio promised by this hour
To visit me. You know your office, brother:
You must be father to your brother’s daughter
And give her to young Claudio.

ANTONIO 
Which I will do with confirm’d countenance.

BENEDICK 
Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.

FRIAR FRANCIS 
To do what, signior?

BENEDICK 
To bind me, or undo me; one of them.
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.

LEONATO 
That eye my daughter lent her: ’tis most true.

BENEDICK 
And I do with an eye of love requite her.

LEONATO 
The sight whereof I think you had from me,
From Claudio and the prince: but what’s your will?

BENEDICK 
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:
But, for my will, my will is your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d
In the state of honourable marriage:
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.

LEONATO 
My heart is with your liking.

FRIAR FRANCIS 
And my help.
Here comes the prince and Claudio.

Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO, and two or three others

DON PEDRO 
Good morrow to this fair assembly.

LEONATO 
Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio:
We here attend you. Are you yet determined
To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter?

CLAUDIO 
I’ll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.

LEONATO 
Call her forth, brother; here’s the friar ready.

Exit ANTONIO

DON PEDRO 
Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

CLAUDIO 
I think he thinks upon the savage bull.
Tush, fear not, man; we’ll tip thy horns with gold
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee,
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.

BENEDICK 
Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;
And some such strange bull leap’d your father’s cow,
And got a calf in that same noble feat
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.

CLAUDIO 
For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.

Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

ANTONIO 
This same is she, and I do give you her.

CLAUDIO 
Why, then she’s mine. Sweet, let me see your face.

LEONATO 
No, that you shall not, till you take her hand
Before this friar and swear to marry her.

CLAUDIO 
Give me your hand: before this holy friar,
I am your husband, if you like of me.

HERO 
And when I lived, I was your other wife:

Unmasking

And when you loved, you were my other husband.

CLAUDIO 
Another Hero!

HERO 
Nothing certainer:
One Hero died defiled, but I do live,
And surely as I live, I am a maid.

DON PEDRO 
The former Hero! Hero that is dead!

LEONATO 
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.

FRIAR FRANCIS 
All this amazement can I qualify:
When after that the holy rites are ended,
I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death:
Meantime let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.

BENEDICK 
Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?

BEATRICE 
[Unmasking] I answer to that name. What is your will?

BENEDICK 
Do not you love me?

BEATRICE 
Why, no; no more than reason.

BENEDICK 
Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio
Have been deceived; they swore you did.

BEATRICE 
Do not you love me?

BENEDICK 
Troth, no; no more than reason.

BEATRICE 
Why, then my cousin Margaret and Ursula
Are much deceived; for they did swear you did.

BENEDICK 
They swore that you were almost sick for me.

BEATRICE 
They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.

BENEDICK 
‘Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?

BEATRICE 
No, truly, but in friendly recompense.

LEONATO 
Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.

CLAUDIO 
And I’ll be sworn upon’t that he loves her;
For here’s a paper written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion’d to Beatrice.

HERO 
And here’s another
Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick.

BENEDICK 
A miracle! Here’s our own hands against our hearts.
Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take
thee for pity.

BEATRICE 
I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield
upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life,
for I was told you were in a consumption.

BENEDICK 
Peace! I will stop your mouth.

Kisses her

DON PEDRO 
How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

BENEDICK 
I’ll tell thee what, prince; a college of
wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost
thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No:
if a man will be beaten with brains, a’ shall wear
nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do
purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any
purpose that the world can say against it; and
therefore never flout at me for what I have said
against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my
conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to
have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my
kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin.

CLAUDIO 
I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice,
that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single
life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of
question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look
exceedingly narrowly to thee.

BENEDICK 
Come, come, we are friends: let’s have a dance ere
we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts
and our wives’ heels.

LEONATO 
We’ll have dancing afterward.

BENEDICK 
First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince,
thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife:
there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.

Enter a Messenger

Messenger 
My lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight,
And brought with armed men back to Messina.

BENEDICK 
Think not on him till to-morrow:
I’ll devise thee brave punishments for him.
Strike up, pipers.

Dance

Exeunt



Much Ado About Nothing-William Shakespeare (act4)
June 17, 2007, 9:58 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Act four of “Much Ado About Nothing”- did I mention it’s my favourite Shakespeare comedy? I love Beatrice’s wit!

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
That may be wish’d 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?
Chide 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 smirch’d 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 
Confirm’d, confirm’d! O, that is stronger made
Which was before barr’d up with ribs of iron!
Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash’d 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 mark’d
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 appear’d 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 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
Maintain’d 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 practise 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,
To quit me of them thoroughly.

FRIAR FRANCIS 
Pause awhile,
And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead:
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it that she is dead indeed;
Maintain a mourning ostentation
And on your family’s old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.

LEONATO 
What shall become of this? What will this do?

FRIAR FRANCIS 
Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf
Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must so be maintain’d,
Upon the instant that she was accused,
Shall be lamented, pitied and excused
Of every hearer: for it so falls out
That what we have we prize not to the worth
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack’d and lost,
Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell’d in more precious habit,
More moving-delicate and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn,
If ever love had interest in his liver,
And wish he had not so accused her,
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell’d false,
The supposition of the lady’s death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries.

BENEDICK 
Signior Leonato let the friar advise you:
And though you know my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly as your soul
Should with your body.

LEONATO 
Being that I flow in grief,
The smallest twine may lead me.

FRIAR FRANCIS 
‘Tis well consented: presently away;
For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.
Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day
Perhaps is but prolong’d: have patience and endure.

Exeunt all but BENEDICK and BEATRICE

BENEDICK 
Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?

BEATRICE 
Yea, and I will weep a while longer.

BENEDICK 
I will not desire that.

BEATRICE 
You have no reason; I do it freely.

BENEDICK 
Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.

BEATRICE 
Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!

BENEDICK 
Is there any way to show such friendship?

BEATRICE 
A very even way, but no such friend.

BENEDICK 
May a man do it?

BEATRICE 
It is a man’s office, but not yours.

BENEDICK 
I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is
not that strange?

BEATRICE 
As strange as the thing I know not. It were as
possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as
you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I
confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.

BENEDICK 
By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.

BEATRICE 
Do not swear, and eat it.

BENEDICK 
I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make
him eat it that says I love not you.

BEATRICE 
Will you not eat your word?

BENEDICK 
With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest
I love thee.

BEATRICE 
Why, then, God forgive me!

BENEDICK 
What offence, sweet Beatrice?

BEATRICE 
You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to
protest I loved you.

BENEDICK 
And do it with all thy heart.

BEATRICE 
I love you with so much of my heart that none is
left to protest.

BENEDICK 
Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

BEATRICE 
Kill Claudio.

BENEDICK 
Ha! Not for the wide world.

BEATRICE 
You kill me to deny it. Farewell.

BENEDICK 
Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

BEATRICE 
I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in
you: nay, I pray you, let me go.

BENEDICK 
Beatrice,–

BEATRICE 
In faith, I will go.

BENEDICK 
We’ll be friends first.

BEATRICE 
You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.

BENEDICK 
Is Claudio thine enemy?

BEATRICE 
Is he not approved in the height a villain, that
hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O
that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they
come to take hands; and then, with public
accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,
–O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart
in the market-place.

BENEDICK 
Hear me, Beatrice,–

BEATRICE 
Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!

BENEDICK 
Nay, but, Beatrice,–

BEATRICE 
Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.

BENEDICK 
Beat–

BEATRICE 
Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony,
a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant,
surely! O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I
had any friend would be a man for my sake! But
manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into
compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and
trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules
that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a
man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

BENEDICK 
Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.

BEATRICE 
Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.

BENEDICK 
Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?

BEATRICE 
Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.

BENEDICK 
Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will
kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand,
Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you
hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your
cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell.

Exeunt

SCENE II. A prison.

Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO 
DOGBERRY 
Is our whole dissembly appeared?

VERGES 
O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.

Sexton 
Which be the malefactors?

DOGBERRY 
Marry, that am I and my partner.

VERGES 
Nay, that’s certain; we have the exhibition to examine.

Sexton 
But which are the offenders that are to be
examined? Let them come before master constable.

DOGBERRY 
Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your
name, friend?

BORACHIO 
Borachio.

DOGBERRY 
Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?

CONRADE 
I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.

DOGBERRY 
Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do
you serve God?

CONRADE BORACHIO 
Yea, sir, we hope.

DOGBERRY 
Write down, that they hope they serve God: and
write God first; for God defend but God should go
before such villains! Masters, it is proved already
that you are little better than false knaves; and it
will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer
you for yourselves?

CONRADE 
Marry, sir, we say we are none.

DOGBERRY 
A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you: but I
will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a
word in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought
you are false knaves.

BORACHIO 
Sir, I say to you we are none.

DOGBERRY 
Well, stand aside. ‘Fore God, they are both in a
tale. Have you writ down, that they are none?

Sexton 
Master constable, you go not the way to examine:
you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.

DOGBERRY 
Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way. Let the watch
come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s
name, accuse these men.

First Watchman 
This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince’s
brother, was a villain.

DOGBERRY 
Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat
perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain.

BORACHIO 
Master constable,–

DOGBERRY 
Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look,
I promise thee.

Sexton 
What heard you him say else?

Second Watchman 
Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of
Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.

DOGBERRY 
Flat burglary as ever was committed.

VERGES 
Yea, by mass, that it is.

Sexton 
What else, fellow?

First Watchman 
And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to
disgrace Hero before the whole assembly. And not marry her.

DOGBERRY 
O villain! Thou wilt be condemned into everlasting
redemption for this.

Sexton 
What else?

Watchman 
This is all.

Sexton 
And this is more, masters, than you can deny.
Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away;
Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner
refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died.
Master constable, let these men be bound, and
brought to Leonato’s: I will go before and show
him their examination.

Exit

DOGBERRY 
Come, let them be opinioned.

VERGES 
Let them be in the hands–

CONRADE 
Off, coxcomb!

DOGBERRY 
God’s my life, where’s the sexton? Let him write
down the prince’s officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.
Thou naughty varlet!

CONRADE 
Away! You are an ass, you are an ass.

DOGBERRY 
Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not
suspect my years? O that he were here to write me
down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an
ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not
that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of
piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness.
I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer,
and, which is more, a householder, and, which is
more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in
Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a
rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath
had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every
thing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that
I had been writ down an ass!

Exeunt



Much Ado About Nothing-William Shakespeare (act3)
June 17, 2007, 9:55 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Obviously act three of “Much Ado About Nothing”.

ACT III
SCENE I. LEONATO’S garden.

Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA 
HERO 
Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say that thou overheard’st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen’d by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her,
To listen our purpose. This is thy office;
Bear thee well in it and leave us alone.

MARGARET 
I’ll make her come, I warrant you, presently.

Exit

HERO 
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick.
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit:
My talk to thee must be how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter
Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay.

Enter BEATRICE, behind

Now begin;
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.

URSULA 
The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish
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.

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 villainy should be so dear?

BORACHIO 
Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any
villainy 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?

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 villainy, 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



Much Ado About Nothing-William Shakespeare (act2)
June 17, 2007, 9:49 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

This is act two of “Much Ado About Nothing”. If anyone finds any spelling mistakes then please tell me.

ACT II
SCENE I. A hall in LEONATO’S house.
BEATRICE 
Just, if he send me no husband; for the which
blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and
evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a
beard on his face: I had rather lie in the woollen.
humour your cousin, that she
shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your
two helps, will so practise on Benedick that, in
despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he
shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this,
Cupid is no longer an archer: hi s glory shall be
ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me,
and I will tell you my drift.
DON PEDRO 
By my troth, a good song.
humour?
No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would
die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I
were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day!
she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in
her.
daw withal. You have no stomach,
signior: fare you well.

Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others 
LEONATO 
Was not Count John here at supper?

ANTONIO 
I saw him not.

BEATRICE 
How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see
him but I am heart-burned an hour after.

HERO 
He is of a very melancholy disposition.

BEATRICE 
He were an excellent man that were made just in the
midway between him and Benedick: the one is too
like an image and says nothing, and the other too
like my lady’s eldest son, evermore tattling.

LEONATO 
Then half Signior Benedick’s tongue in Count John’s
mouth, and half Count John’s melancholy in Signior
Benedick’s face,–

BEATRICE 
With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money
enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman
in the world, if a’ could get her good-will.

LEONATO 
By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a
husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

ANTONIO 
In faith, she’s too curst.

BEATRICE 
Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God’s
sending that way; for it is said, ‘God sends a curst
cow short horns;’ but to a cow too curst he sends none.

LEONATO 
So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.

 

LEONATO 
You may light on a husband that hath no beard.

BEATRICE 
What should I do with him? Dress him in my apparel
and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a
beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no
beard is less than a man: and he that is more than
a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a
man, I am not for him: therefore, I will even take
sixpence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead his
apes into hell.

LEONATO 
Well, then, go you into hell?

BEATRICE 
No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet
me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and
say ‘Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to
heaven; here’s no place for you maids:’ so deliver
I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the
heavens; he shows me where the bachelors sit, and
there live we as merry as the day is long.

ANTONIO 
[To HERO] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled
by your father.

BEATRICE 
Yes, faith; it is my cousin’s duty to make curtsy
and say ‘Father, as it please you.’ But yet for all
that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else
make another curtsy and say ‘Father, as it please
me.’

LEONATO 
Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

BEATRICE 
Not till God make men of some other metal than
earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be
overmastered with a pierce of valiant dust? To make
an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?
No, uncle, I’ll none: Adam’s sons are my brethren;
and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.

LEONATO 
Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince
do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.

BEATRICE 
The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be
not wooed in good time: if the prince be too
important, tell him there is measure in every thing
and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, Hero:
wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig,
a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot
and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as
fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a
measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes
repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the
cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.

LEONATO 
Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

BEATRICE 
I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight.

LEONATO 
The revellers are entering, brother: make good room.

All put on their masks

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHASAR, DON JOHN, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA and others, masked

DON PEDRO 
Lady, will you walk about with your friend?

HERO 
So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing,
I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away.

DON PEDRO 
With me in your company?

HERO 
I may say so, when I please.

DON PEDRO 
And when please you to say so?

HERO 
When I like your favour; for God defend the lute
should be like the case!

DON PEDRO 
My visor is Philemon’s roof; within the house is Jove.

HERO 
Why, then, your visor should be thatched.

DON PEDRO 
Speak low, if you speak love.

Drawing her aside

BALTHASAR 
Well, I would you did like me.

MARGARET 
So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many
ill-qualities.

BALTHASAR 
Which is one?

MARGARET 
I say my prayers aloud.

BALTHASAR 
I love you the better: the hearers may cry, Amen.

MARGARET 
God match me with a good dancer!

BALTHASAR 
Amen.

MARGARET 
And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is
done! Answer, clerk.

BALTHASAR 
No more words: the clerk is answered.

URSULA 
I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio.

ANTONIO 
At a word, I am not.

URSULA 
I know you by the waggling of your head.

ANTONIO 
To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

URSULA 
You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were
the very man. Here’s his dry hand up and down: you
are he, you are he.

ANTONIO 
At a word, I am not.

URSULA 
Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your
excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to,
mum, you are he: graces will appear, and there’s an
end.

BEATRICE 
Will you not tell me who told you so?

BENEDICK 
No, you shall pardon me.

BEATRICE 
Nor will you not tell me who you are?

BENEDICK 
Not now.

BEATRICE 
That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit
out of the ‘Hundred Merry Tales:’–well this was
Signior Benedick that said so.

BENEDICK 
What’s he?

BEATRICE 
I am sure you know him well enough.

BENEDICK 
Not I, believe me.

BEATRICE 
Did he never make you laugh?

BENEDICK 
I pray you, what is he?

BEATRICE 
Why, he is the prince’s jester: a very dull fool;
only his gift is in devising impossible slanders:
none but libertines delight in him; and the
commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany;
for he both pleases men and angers them, and then
they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in
the fleet: I would he had boarded me.

BENEDICK 
When I know the gentleman, I’ll tell him what you say.

BEATRICE 
Do, do: he’ll but break a comparison or two on me;
which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at,
strikes him into melancholy; and then there’s a
partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no
supper that night.

Music

We must follow the leaders.

BENEDICK 
In every good thing.

BEATRICE 
Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at
the next turning.

Dance. Then exeunt all except DON JOHN, BORACHIO, and CLAUDIO

DON JOHN 
Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath
withdrawn her father to break with him about it.
The ladies follow her and but one visor remains.

BORACHIO 
And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing.

DON JOHN 
Are not you Signior Benedick?

CLAUDIO 
You know me well; I am he.

DON JOHN 
Signior, you are very near my brother in his love:
he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him
from her: she is no equal for his birth: you may
do the part of an honest man in it.

CLAUDIO 
How know you he loves her?

DON JOHN 
I heard him swear his affection.

BORACHIO 
So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night.

DON JOHN 
Come, let us to the banquet.

Exeunt DON JOHN and BORACHIO

CLAUDIO 
Thus answer I in the name of Benedick,
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.
‘Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things
Save in the office and affairs of love:
Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues;
Let every eye negotiate for itself
And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero!

Re-enter BENEDICK

BENEDICK 
Count Claudio?

CLAUDIO 
Yea, the same.

BENEDICK 
Come, will you go with me?

CLAUDIO 
Whither?

BENEDICK 
Even to the next willow, about your own business,
county. What fashion will you wear the garland of?
about your neck, like an usurer’s chain? Or under
your arm, like a lieutenant’s scarf? You must wear
it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero.

CLAUDIO 
I wish him joy of her.

BENEDICK 
Why, that’s spoken like an honest drovier: so they
sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would
have served you thus?

CLAUDIO 
I pray you, leave me.

BENEDICK 
Ho! Now you strike like the blind man: ’twas the
boy that stole your meat, and you’ll beat the post.

CLAUDIO 
If it will not be, I’ll leave you.

Exit

BENEDICK 
Alas, poor hurt fowl! Now will he creep into sedges.
But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not
know me! The prince’s fool! Ha? It may be I go
under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I
am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it
is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice
that puts the world into her person and so gives me
out. Well, I’ll be revenged as I may.

Re-enter DON PEDRO

DON PEDRO 
Now, signior, where’s the count? Did you see him?

BENEDICK 
Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame.
I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a
warren: I told him, and I think I told him true,
that your grace had got the good will of this young
lady; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree,
either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or
to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped.

DON PEDRO 
To be whipped! What’s his fault?

BENEDICK 
The flat transgression of a schoolboy, who, being
overjoyed with finding a birds’ nest, shows it his
companion, and he steals it.

DON PEDRO 
Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The
transgression is in the stealer.

BENEDICK 
Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made,
and the garland too; for the garland he might have
worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on
you, who, as I take it, have stolen his birds’ nest.

DON PEDRO 
I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to
the owner.

BENEDICK 
If their singing answer your saying, by my faith,
you say honestly.

DON PEDRO 
The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you: the
gentleman that danced with her told her she is much
wronged by you.

BENEDICK 
O, she misused me past the endurance of a block!
an oak but with one green leaf on it would have
answered her; my very visor began to assume life and
scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been
myself, that I was the prince’s jester, that I was
duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest
with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood
like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at
me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs:
if her breath were as terrible as her terminations,
there were no living near her; she would infect to
the north star. I would not marry her, though she
were endowed with all that Adam bad left him before
he transgressed: she would have made Hercules have
turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make
the fire too. Come, talk not of her: you shall find
her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God
some scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while
she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a
sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they
would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror
and perturbation follows her.

DON PEDRO 
Look, here she comes.

Enter CLAUDIO, BEATRICE, HERO, and LEONATO

BENEDICK 
Will your grace command me any service to the
world’s end? I will go on the slightest errand now
to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on;
I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the
furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of
Prester John’s foot, fetch you a hair off the great
Cham’s beard, do you any embassage to the Pigmies,
rather than hold three words’ conference with this
harpy. You have no employment for me?

DON PEDRO 
None, but to desire your good company.

BENEDICK 
O God, sir, here’s a dish I love not: I cannot
endure my Lady Tongue.

Exit

DON PEDRO 
Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of
Signior Benedick.

BEATRICE 
Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave
him use for it, a double heart for his single one:
marry, once before he won it of me with false dice,
therefore your grace may well say I have lost it.

DON PEDRO 
You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.

BEATRICE 
So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I
should prove the mother of fools. I have brought
Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.

DON PEDRO 
Why, how now, count! Wherefore are you sad?

CLAUDIO 
Not sad, my lord.

DON PEDRO 
How then? Sick?

CLAUDIO 
Neither, my lord.

BEATRICE 
The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor
well; but civil count, civil as an orange, and
something of that jealous complexion.

DON PEDRO 
I’ faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true;
though, I’ll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is
false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and
fair Hero is won: I have broke with her father,
and his good will obtained: name the day of
marriage, and God give thee joy!

LEONATO 
Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my
fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and an
grace say Amen to it.

BEATRICE 
Speak, count, ’tis your cue.

CLAUDIO 
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were
but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as
you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for
you and dote upon the exchange.

BEATRICE 
Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth
with a kiss, and let not him speak neither.

DON PEDRO 
In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

BEATRICE 
Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on
the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his
ear that he is in her heart.

CLAUDIO 
And so she doth, cousin.

BEATRICE 
Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the
world but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a
corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!

DON PEDRO 
Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

BEATRICE 
I would rather have one of your father’s getting.
Hath your grace ne’er a brother like you? Your
father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

DON PEDRO 
Will you have me, lady?

BEATRICE 
No, my lord, unless I might have another for
working-days: your grace is too costly to wear
every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I
was born to speak all mirth and no matter.

DON PEDRO 
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best
becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in
a merry hour.

BEATRICE 
No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there
was a star danced, and under that was I born.
Cousins, God give you joy!

LEONATO 
Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?

BEATRICE 
I cry you mercy, uncle. By your grace’s pardon.

Exit

DON PEDRO 
By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.

LEONATO 
There’s little of the melancholy element in her, my
lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps, and
not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say,
she hath often dreamed of unhappiness and waked
herself with laughing.

DON PEDRO 
She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.

LEONATO 
O, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out of suit.

DON PEDRO 
She were an excellent wife for Benedict.

LEONATO 
O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married,
they would talk themselves mad.

DON PEDRO 
County Claudio, when mean you to go to church?

CLAUDIO 
To-morrow, my lord: time goes on crutches till love
have all his rites.

LEONATO 
Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just
seven-night; and a time too brief, too, to have all
things answer my mind.

DON PEDRO 
Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing:
but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go
dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of
Hercules’ labours; which is, to bring Signior
Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of
affection the one with the other. I would fain have
it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if
you three will but minister such assistance as I
shall give you direction.

LEONATO 
My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten
nights’ watchings.

CLAUDIO 
And I, my lord.

DON PEDRO 
And you too, gentle Hero?

HERO 
I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my
cousin to a good husband.

DON PEDRO 
And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that
I know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble
strain, of approved valour and confirmed honesty. I
will teach you how to

Exeunt

SCENE II. The same.

Enter DON JOHN and BORACHIO 
DON JOHN 
It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the
daughter of Leonato.

BORACHIO 
Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.

DON JOHN 
Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be
medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him,
and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges
evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?

BORACHIO 
Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no
dishonesty shall appear in me.

DON JOHN 
Show me briefly how.

BORACHIO 
I think I told your lordship a year since, how much
I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting
gentlewoman to Hero.

DON JOHN 
I remember.

BORACHIO 
I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night,
appoint her to look out at her lady’s chamber window.

DON JOHN 
What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?

BORACHIO 
The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to
the prince your brother; spare not to tell him that
he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned
Claudio–whose estimation do you mightily hold
up–to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.

DON JOHN 
What proof shall I make of that?

BORACHIO 
Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio,
to undo Hero and kill Leonato. Look you for any
other issue?

DON JOHN 
Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing.

BORACHIO 
Go, then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and
the Count Claudio alone: tell them that you know
that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the
prince and Claudio, as,–in love of your brother’s
honour, who hath made this match, and his friend’s
reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the
semblance of a maid,–that you have discovered
thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial:
offer them instances; which shall bear no less
likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window,
hear me call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me
Claudio; and bring them to see this the very night
before the intended wedding,–for in the meantime I
will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be
absent,–and there shall appear such seeming truth
of Hero’s disloyalty that jealousy shall be called
assurance and all the preparation overthrown.

DON JOHN 
Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put
it in practise. Be cunning in the working this, and
thy fee is a thousand ducats.

BORACHIO 
Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning
shall not shame me.

DON JOHN 
I will presently go learn their day of marriage.

Exeunt

SCENE III. LEONATO’S orchard.

Enter BENEDICK 
BENEDICK 
Boy!

Enter Boy

Boy 
Signior?

BENEDICK 
In my chamber-window lies a book: bring it hither
to me in the orchard.

Boy 
I am here already, sir.

BENEDICK 
I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again.

Exit Boy

I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much
another man is a fool when he dedicates his
behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at
such shallow follies in others, become the argument
of his own scorn by failing in love: and such a man
is Claudio. I have known when there was no music
with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he
rather hear the tabour and the pipe: I have known
when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a
good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake,
carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to
speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man
and a soldier; and now is he turned orthography; his
words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many
strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with
these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not
be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but
I’ll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster
of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman
is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am
well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all
graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in
my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain; wise,
or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her;
fair, or I’ll never look on her; mild, or come not
near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good
discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall
be of what colour it please God. Ha! The prince and
Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour.

Withdraws

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO

DON PEDRO 
Come, shall we hear this music?

CLAUDIO 
Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is,
As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony!

DON PEDRO 
See you where Benedick hath hid himself?

CLAUDIO 
O, very well, my lord: the music ended,
We’ll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.

Enter BALTHASAR with Music

DON PEDRO 
Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.

BALTHASAR 
O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.

DON PEDRO 
It is the witness still of excellency
to put a strange face on his own perfection.
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.

BALTHASAR 
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he swear he loves.

DON PEDRO 
Now, pray thee, come;
Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.

BALTHASAR 
Note this before my notes;
There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting.

DON PEDRO 
Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks;
Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing.

Air

BENEDICK 
Now, divine air! Now is his soul ravished! Is it
not strange that sheeps’ guts should hale souls out
of men’s bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when
all’s done.

The Song

BALTHASAR 
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leafy:
Then sigh not so, & c.

 

BALTHASAR 
And an ill singer, my lord.

DON PEDRO 
Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift.

BENEDICK 
An he had been a dog that should have howled thus,
they would have hanged him: and I pray God his bad
voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the
night-raven, come what plague could have come after
it.

DON PEDRO 
Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee,
get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we
would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber-window.

BALTHASAR 
The best I can, my lord.

DON PEDRO 
Do so: farewell.

Exit BALTHASAR

Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of
to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with
Signior Benedick?

CLAUDIO 
O, ay: stalk on. stalk on; the fowl sits. I did
never think that lady would have loved any man.

LEONATO 
No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she
should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in
all outward behaviors seemed ever to abhor.

BENEDICK 
Is’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

LEONATO 
By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think
of it but that she loves him with an enraged
affection: it is past the infinite of thought.

DON PEDRO 
May be she doth but counterfeit.

CLAUDIO 
Faith, like enough.

LEONATO 
O God, counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of
passion came so near the life of passion as she
discovers it.

DON PEDRO 
Why, what effects of passion shows she?

CLAUDIO 
Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.

LEONATO 
What effects, my lord? She will sit you, you heard
my daughter tell you how.

CLAUDIO 
She did, indeed.

DON PEDRO 
How, how, pray you? You amaze me: I would have I
thought her spirit had been invincible against all
assaults of affection.

LEONATO 
I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially
against Benedick.

BENEDICK 
I should think this a gull, but that the
white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot,
sure, hide himself in such reverence.

CLAUDIO 
He hath ta’en the infection: hold it up.

DON PEDRO 
Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?

LEONATO 
No; and swears she never will: that’s her torment.

CLAUDIO 
‘Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: ‘Shall
I,’ says she, ‘that have so oft encountered him
with scorn, write to him that I love him?’

LEONATO 
This says she now when she is beginning to write to
him; for she’ll be up twenty times a night, and
there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a
sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all.

CLAUDIO 
Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a
pretty jest your daughter told us of.

LEONATO 
O, when she had writ it and was reading it over, she
found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?

CLAUDIO 
That.

LEONATO 
O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence;
railed at herself, that she should be so immodest
to write to one that she knew would flout her; ‘I
measure him,’ says she, ‘by my own spirit; for I
should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I
love him, I should.’

CLAUDIO 
Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs,
beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; ‘O
sweet Benedick! God give me patience!’

LEONATO 
She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the
ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter
is sometime afeared she will do a desperate outrage
to herself: it is very true.

DON PEDRO 
It were good that Benedick knew of it by some
other, if she will not discover it.

CLAUDIO 
To what end? He would make but a sport of it and
torment the poor lady worse.

DON PEDRO 
An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an
excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion,
she is virtuous.

CLAUDIO 
And she is exceeding wise.

DON PEDRO 
In every thing but in loving Benedick.

LEONATO 
O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender
a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath
the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just
cause, being her uncle and her guardian.

DON PEDRO 
I would she had bestowed this dotage on me: I would
have daffed all other respects and made her half
myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear
what a’ will say.

LEONATO 
Were it good, think you?

CLAUDIO 
Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she
will die, if he love her not, and she will die, ere
she make her love known, and she will die, if he woo
her, rather than she will bate one breath of her
accustomed crossness.

DON PEDRO 
She doth well: if she should make tender of her
love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it; for the
man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

CLAUDIO 
He is a very proper man.

DON PEDRO 
He hath indeed a good outward happiness.

CLAUDIO 
Before God! And, in my mind, very wise.

DON PEDRO 
He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit.

CLAUDIO 
And I take him to be valiant.

DON PEDRO 
As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of
quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he
avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes
them with a most Christian-like fear.

LEONATO 
If he do fear God, a’ must necessarily keep peace:
if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a
quarrel with fear and trembling.

DON PEDRO 
And so will he do; for the man doth fear God,
howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests
he will make. Well I am sorry for your niece. Shall
we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love?

CLAUDIO 
Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with
good counsel.

LEONATO 
Nay, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first.

DON PEDRO 
Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter:
let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I
could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see
how much he is unworthy so good a lady.

LEONATO 
My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready.

CLAUDIO 
If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never
trust my expectation.

DON PEDRO 
Let there be the same net spread for her; and that
must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The
sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of
another’s dotage, and no such matter: that’s the
scene that I would see, which will be merely a
dumb-show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.

Exeunt DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO

BENEDICK 
[Coming forward] This can be no trick: the
conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of
this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it
seems her affections have their full bent. Love me!
Why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured:
they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive
the love come from her; they say too that she will
rather die than give any sign of affection. I did
never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy
are they that hear their detractions and can put
them to mending. They say the lady is fair; ’tis a
truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; ’tis
so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving
me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor
no great argument of her folly, for I will be
horribly in love with her. I may chance have some
odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me,
because I have railed so long against marriage: but
doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat
in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.
Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of
the brain awe a man from the career of his

Enter BEATRICE

BEATRICE 
Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.

BENEDICK 
Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

BEATRICE 
I took no more pains for those thanks than you take
pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would
not have come.

BENEDICK 
You take pleasure then in the message?

BEATRICE 
Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s
point and choke a

Exit

BENEDICK 
Ha! ‘Against my will I am sent to bid you come in
to dinner;’ there’s a double meaning in that ‘I took
no more pains for those thanks than you took pains
to thank me.’ that’s as much as to say, Any pains
that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do
not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not
love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture.

Exit



Much Ado About Nothing-William Shakespeare (act1)
June 17, 2007, 9:36 am
Filed under: William Shakespeare

I’m not sure why I’m doing this but I had the sudden urge to post some of Shakespeare’s works. If you bother to read you’ll find that they are all pretty accurately worded.

ACT I
SCENE I. Before LEONATO’S house.

Enter LEONATO, HERO, and BEATRICE, with a Messenger 
LEONATO 
I learn in this letter that Don Peter of Arragon
comes this night to Messina.

Messenger 
He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off
when I left him.

LEONATO 
How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?

Messenger 
But few of any sort, and none of name.

LEONATO 
A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings
home full numbers. I find here that Don Peter hath
bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio.

Messenger 
Much deserved on his part and equally remembered by
Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the
promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb,
the feats of a lion: he hath indeed better
bettered expectation than you must expect of me to
tell you how.

LEONATO 
He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much
glad of it.

Messenger 
I have already delivered him letters, and there
appears much joy in him; even so much that joy could
not show itself modest enough without a badge of
bitterness.

LEONATO 
Did he break out into tears?

Messenger 
In great measure.

LEONATO 
A kind overflow of kindness: there are no faces
truer than those that are so washed. How much
better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!

BEATRICE 
I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the
wars or no?

Messenger 
I know none of that name, lady: there was none such
in the army of any sort.

LEONATO 
What is he that you ask for, niece?

HERO 
My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.

Messenger 
O, he’s returned; and as pleasant as ever he was.

BEATRICE 
He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged
Cupid at the flight; and my uncle’s fool, reading
the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged
him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he
killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath
he killed? For indeed I promised to eat all of his killing.

LEONATO 
Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much;
but he’ll be meet with you, I doubt it not.

Messenger 
He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.

BEATRICE 
You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it:
he is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an
excellent stomach.

Messenger 
And a good soldier too, lady.

BEATRICE 
And a good soldier to a lady: but what is he to a lord?

Messenger 
A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all
honourable virtues.

BEATRICE 
It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man:
but for the stuffing,–well, we are all mortal.

LEONATO 
You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a
kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her:
they never meet but there’s a skirmish of wit
between them.

BEATRICE 
Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last
conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and
now is the whole man governed with one: so that if
he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him
bear it for a difference between himself and his
horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left,
to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his
companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.

Messenger 
Is’t possible?

BEATRICE 
Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as
the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the
next block.

Messenger 
I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.

BEATRICE 
No; an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray
you, who is his companion? Is there no young
squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil?

Messenger 
He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.

BEATRICE 
O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease: he
is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker
runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! if
he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a
thousand pound ere a’ be cured.

Messenger 
I will hold friends with you, lady.

BEATRICE 
Do, good friend.

LEONATO 
You will never run mad, niece.

BEATRICE 
No, not till a hot January.

Messenger 
Don Pedro is approached.

Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and BALTHASAR

DON PEDRO 
Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your
trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid
cost, and you encounter it.

LEONATO 
Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of
your grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should
remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides
and happiness takes his leave.

DON PEDRO 
You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this
is your daughter.

LEONATO 
Her mother hath many times told me so.

BENEDICK 
Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?

LEONATO 
Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.

DON PEDRO 
You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this
what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers
herself. Be happy, lady; for you are like an
honourable father.

BENEDICK 
If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not
have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as
like him as she is.

BEATRICE 
I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior
Benedick: nobody marks you.

BENEDICK 
What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?

BEATRICE 
Is it possible disdain should die while she hath
such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?
Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come
in her presence.

BENEDICK 
Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I
am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I
would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard
heart; for, truly, I love none.

BEATRICE 
A dear happiness to women: they would else have
been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God
and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I
had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man
swear he loves me.

BENEDICK 
God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some
gentleman or other shall ‘scape a predestinate
scratched face.

BEATRICE 
Scratching could not make it worse, an ’twere such
a face as yours were.

BENEDICK 
Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.

BEATRICE 
A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.

BENEDICK 
I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and
so good a continuer. But keep your way, I’ God’s
name; I have done.

BEATRICE 
You always end with a jade’s trick: I know you of old.

DON PEDRO 
That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio
and Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath
invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at
the least a month; and he heartily prays some
occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no
hypocrite, but prays from his heart.

LEONATO 
If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn.

To DON JOHN

Let me bid you welcome, my lord: being reconciled to
the prince your brother, I owe you all duty.

DON JOHN 
I thank you: I am not of many words, but I thank
you.

LEONATO 
Please it your grace lead on?

DON PEDRO 
Your hand, Leonato; we will go together.

Exeunt all except BENEDICK and CLAUDIO

CLAUDIO 
Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato?

BENEDICK 
I noted her not; but I looked on her.

CLAUDIO 
Is she not a modest young lady?

BENEDICK 
Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for
my simple true judgment; or would you have me speak
after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?

CLAUDIO 
No; I pray thee speak in sober judgment.

BENEDICK 
Why, I’ faith, methinks she’s too low for a high
praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little
for a great praise: only this commendation I can
afford her, that were she other than she is, she
were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I
do not like her.

CLAUDIO 
Thou thinkest I am in sport: I pray thee tell me
truly how thou likest her.

BENEDICK 
Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?

CLAUDIO 
Can the world buy such a jewel?

BENEDICK 
Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this
with a sad brow? Or do you play the flouting Jack,
to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and Vulcan a
rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take
you, to go in the song?

CLAUDIO 
In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I
looked on.

BENEDICK 
I can see yet without spectacles and I see no such
matter: there’s her cousin, an she were not
possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty
as the first of May doth the last of December. But I
hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you?

CLAUDIO 
I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the
contrary, if Hero would be my wife.

BENEDICK 
Is’t come to this? In faith, hath not the world
one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion?
Shall I never see a bachelor of three-score again?
Go to, i’ faith; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck
into a yoke, wear the print of it and sigh away
Sundays. Look Don Pedro is returned to seek you.

Re-enter DON PEDRO

DON PEDRO 
What secret hath held you here, that you followed
not to Leonato’s?

BENEDICK 
I would your grace would constrain me to tell.

DON PEDRO 
I charge thee on thy allegiance.

BENEDICK 
You hear, Count Claudio: I can be secret as a dumb
man; I would have you think so; but, on my
allegiance, mark you this, on my allegiance. He is
in love. With who? Now that is your grace’s part.
Mark how short his answer is;–With Hero, Leonato’s
short daughter.

CLAUDIO 
If this were so, so were it uttered.

BENEDICK 
Like the old tale, my lord: ‘it is not so, nor
’twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be
so.’

CLAUDIO 
If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it
should be otherwise.

DON PEDRO 
Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy.

CLAUDIO 
You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.

DON PEDRO 
By my troth, I speak my thought.

CLAUDIO 
And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.

BENEDICK 
And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine.

CLAUDIO 
That I love her, I feel.

DON PEDRO 
That she is worthy, I know.

BENEDICK 
That I neither feel how she should be loved nor
know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that
fire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at the stake.

DON PEDRO 
Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite
of beauty.

CLAUDIO 
And never could maintain his part but in the force
of his will.

BENEDICK 
That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she
brought me up, I likewise give her most humble
thanks: but that I will have a recheat winded in my
forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick,
all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do
them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the
right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which
I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor.

DON PEDRO 
I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.

BENEDICK 
With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord,
not with love: prove that ever I lose more blood
with love than I will get again with drinking, pick
out mine eyes with a ballad-maker’s pen and hang me
up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of
blind Cupid.

DON PEDRO 
Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou
wilt prove a notable argument.

BENEDICK 
If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot
at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on
the shoulder, and called Adam.

DON PEDRO 
Well, as time shall try: ‘In time the savage bull
doth bear the yoke.’

BENEDICK 
The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible
Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull’s horns and set
them in my forehead: and let me be vilely painted,
and in such great letters as they write ‘Here is
good horse to hire,’ let them signify under my sign
‘Here you may see Benedick the married man.’

CLAUDIO 
If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad.

DON PEDRO 
Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in
Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.

BENEDICK 
I look for an earthquake too, then.

DON PEDRO 
Well, you temporize with the hours. In the
meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to
Leonato’s: commend me to him and tell him I will
not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made
great preparation.

BENEDICK 
I have almost matter enough in me for such an
embassage; and so I commit you–

CLAUDIO 
To the tuition of God: From my house, if I had it,–

DON PEDRO 
The sixth of July: Your loving friend, Benedick.

BENEDICK 
Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your
discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and
the guards are but slightly basted on neither: ere
you flout old ends any further, examine your
conscience: and so I leave you.

Exit

CLAUDIO 
My liege, your highness now may do me good.

DON PEDRO 
My love is thine to teach: teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Any hard lesson that may do thee good.

CLAUDIO 
Hath Leonato any son, my lord?

DON PEDRO 
No child but Hero; she’s his only heir.
Dost thou affect her, Claudio?

CLAUDIO 
O, my lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look’d upon her with a soldier’s eye,
That liked, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love:
But now I am return’d and that war-thoughts
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars.

DON PEDRO 
Thou wilt be like a lover presently
And tire the hearer with a book of words.
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,
And I will break with her and with her father,
And thou shalt have her. Was’t not to this end
That thou began’st to twist so fine a story?

CLAUDIO 
How sweetly you do minister to love,
That know love’s grief by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
I would have salved it with a longer treatise.

DON PEDRO 
What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
The fairest grant is the necessity.
Look, what will serve is fit: ’tis once, thou lovest,
And I will fit thee with the remedy.
I know we shall have revelling to-night:
I will assume thy part in some disguise
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio,
And in her bosom I’ll unclasp my heart
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong encounter of my amorous tale:
Then after to her father will I break;
And the conclusion is, she shall be thine.
In practise let us put it presently.

Exeunt

SCENE II. A room in LEONATO’s house.

Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, meeting 
LEONATO 
How now, brother! Where is my cousin, your son?
hath he provided this music?

ANTONIO 
He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell
you strange news that you yet dreamt not of.

LEONATO 
Are they good?

ANTONIO 
As the event stamps them: but they have a good
cover; they show well outward. The prince and Count
Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine
orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine:
the prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my
niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it
this night in a dance: and if he found her
accordant, he meant to take the present time by the
top and instantly break with you of it.

LEONATO 
Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?

ANTONIO 
A good sharp fellow: I will send for him; and
question him yourself.

LEONATO 
No, no; we will hold it as a dream till it appear
itself: but I will acquaint my daughter withal,
that she may be the better prepared for an answer,
if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell her of it.

Enter Attendants

Cousins, you know what you have to do. O, I cry you
mercy, friend; go you with me, and I will use your
skill. Good cousin, have a care this busy time.

Exeunt

SCENE III. The same.

Enter DON JOHN and CONRADE 
CONRADE 
What the good-year, my lord! Why are you thus out
of measure sad?

DON JOHN 
There is no measure in the occasion that breeds;
therefore the sadness is without limit.

CONRADE 
You should hear reason.

DON JOHN 
And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it?

CONRADE 
If not a present remedy, at least a patient
sufferance.

DON JOHN 
I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayest thou art,
born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral
medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide
what I am: I must be sad when I have cause and smile
at no man’s jests, eat when I have stomach and wait
for no man’s leisure, sleep when I am drowsy and
tend on no man’s business, laugh when I am merry and
claw no man in his humour.

CONRADE 
Yea, but you must not make the full show of this
till you may do it without controlment. You have of
late stood out against your brother, and he hath
ta’en you newly into his grace; where it is
impossible you should take true root but by the
fair weather that you make yourself: it is needful
that you frame the season for your own harvest.

DON JOHN 
I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in
his grace, and it better fits my blood to be
disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob
love from any: in this, though I cannot be said to
be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied
but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with
a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I
have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my
mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do
my liking: in the meantime let me be that I am and
seek not to alter me.

CONRADE 
Can you make no use of your discontent?

DON JOHN 
I make all use of it, for I use it only.
Who comes here?

Enter BORACHIO

What news, Borachio?

BORACHIO 
I came yonder from a great supper: the prince your
brother is royally entertained by Leonato: and I
can give you intelligence of an intended marriage.

DON JOHN 
Will it serve for any model to build mischief on?
What is he for a fool that betroths himself to
unquietness?

BORACHIO 
Marry, it is your brother’s right hand.

DON JOHN 
Who? The most exquisite Claudio?

BORACHIO 
Even he.

DON JOHN 
A proper squire! And who, and who? Which way looks
he?

BORACHIO 
Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato.

DON JOHN 
A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?

BORACHIO 
Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a
musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand
in hand in sad conference: I whipt me behind the
arras; and there heard it agreed upon that the
prince should woo Hero for himself, and having
obtained her, give her to Count Claudio.

DON JOHN 
Come, come, let us thither: this may prove food to
my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the
glory of my overthrow: if I can cross him any way, I
bless myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me?

CONRADE 
To the death, my lord.

DON JOHN 
Let us to the great supper: their cheer is the
greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were of
my mind! Shall we go prove what’s to be done?

BORACHIO 
We’ll wait upon your lordship.

Exeunt




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