The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

Claud. We had lik’d to have had our two noses snapp’d off with two old men without teeth.

Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What think’st thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.

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

Claud. 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?

Bene. It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it?

Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?

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

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

Claud. What, courage, man! What though care kill’d a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

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

Claud. Nay then, give him another staff; this last was broke cross.

Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more. I think he be angry indeed.

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

Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear?

Claud. God bless me from a challenge!

Bene. [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 kill’d a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.

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

Pedro. What, a feast, a feast?

Claud. I’ faith, I thank him, he hath bid me to a calve’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?

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

Pedro. I’ll tell thee how Beatrice prais’d 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 proper’st man in Italy.

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

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.

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

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

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

Bene. Fare you well, boy; you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossiplike humour. You break jests as braggards 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 kill’d a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him.

[Exit.]

Pedro. He is in earnest.

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

Pedro. And hath challeng’d thee.

Claud. Most sincerely.

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

Enter Constables [Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch, leading]

Conrade and Borachio.

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

Pedro. But, soft you, let me be! Pluck up, my heart, and be sad!

Did he not say my brother was fled?

Dog. 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 look’d to.

Pedro. How now? two of my brother’s men bound? Borachio one.

Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord.

Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done?

Dog. 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.

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.

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

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?

Bora. 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 disgrac’d 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.

Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?

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

Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this?

Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it.

Pedro. He is compos’d and fram’d of treachery, And fled he is upon this villany.

Claud. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov’d it first.

Dog. 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.

Verg. Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.

Enter Leonato, his brother [Antonio], and the Sexton.

Leon. 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?

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

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

Bora. Yea, even I alone.

Leon. 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.

Claud. 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.

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.

Leon. 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 aught in sad invention,

Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,

And sing it to her bones—sing it tonight.

Tomorrow 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 giv’n her cousin, And so dies my revenge.

Claud. O noble sir!

Your overkindness doth wring tears from me.

I do embrace your offer; and dispose

For henceforth of poor Claudio.

Leon. Tomorrow then I will expect your coming; Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man Shall fact to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was pack’d in all this wrong, Hir’d to it by your brother.

Bora. 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 anything that I do know by her.

Dog. 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 rememb’red in his punishment. And also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed. They say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God’s name, the which he hath us’d 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.

Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.

Dog. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth, and I praise God for you.

Leon. There’s for thy pains. [Gives money.]

Dog. God save the foundation!

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

Dog. 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 wish’d, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.

Exeunt [Dogberry and Verges].

Leon. Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell.

Ant. Farewell, my lords. We look for you tomorrow.

Pedro. We will not fall.

Claud. Tonight I’ll mourn with Hero.

[Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio.]

Leon. [to the Watch] Bring you these fellows on.—We’ll talk with Margaret,

How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

Exeunt.

Scene II.

Leonato’s orchard.

Enter Benedick and Margaret [meeting].

Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.

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

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

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

Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound’s mouth—it catches.

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

Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret: it will not hurt a woman.

And so I pray thee call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers.

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

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

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

Bene. And therefore will come.

Exit Margaret.

[Sings] The god of love,

That sits above