# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/Much adoe about Nothing/Act 2

Actus Secundus.
Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.
Leonato.
Was not Count Iohn here at supper?
Brother.
I saw him not.
Beatrice.
How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after.
Hero.
He is of a very melancholy disposition.
Beatrice.
Hee were an excellent man that were made iust in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one is too like an image and saies nothing, and the other too like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling.
Leon.
Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Signior Benedicks face.
Beat.
With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would winne any woman in the world, if he could get her good will.
Leon.
By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
Brother.
Infaith shee's too curst.
Beat.
Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods sending that way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow short hornes, but to a Cow too curst he sends none.
Leon.
So, by being too curst, God will send you no hornes.
Beat.
Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen.
Leonato.
You may light vpon a husband that hath no beard.
Beatrice.
What should I doe with him? dresse him in my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is more then a youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I am not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in earnest of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell.
Leon.
Well then, goe you into hell.
Beat.
No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill meete mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head, and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen, heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my Apes, and away to S. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as the day is long.
Brother.
Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your father.
Beatrice.
Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curtsie, and say, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie, and say, father, as it please me.
Leonato.
Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.
Beatrice.
Not till God make men of some other mettall then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouermastred with a peece of valiant dust: to make account of her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none: Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sinne to match in my kinred.
Leon.
Daughter, remember what I told you, if the Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your answere.
Beatrice.
The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too important, tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, & repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge (and full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest, (as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue.
Leonato.
Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beatrice.
I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church by daylight.
Leon.
The reuellers are entring brother, make good roome.
Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or dumbe Iohn, Maskers with a drum.
Lady, will you walke about with your friend?
Hero.
So you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I walke away.
Pedro.
With me in your company.
Hero.
I may say so when I please.
Pedro.
And when please you to say so?
Hero.
When I like your fauour, for God defend the Lute should be like the case.
Pedro.
My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house is Loue.
Hero.
Why then your visor should be thatcht.
Pedro.
Speake low if you speake Loue.
Bene.
Well, I would you did like me.
Mar.
So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue manie ill qualities.
Bene.
Which is one?
Mar.
I say my prayers alowd.
Ben.
I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.
Mar.
God match me with a good dauncer.
Balt.
Amen.
Mar.
And God keepe him out of my sight when the daunce is done: answer Clarke.
Balt.
No more words, the Clarke is answered.
Vrsula.
I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio.
Anth.
At a word, I am not.
Vrsula.
I know you by the wagling of your head.
Anth.
To tell you true, I counterfet him.
Vrsu.
You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down, you are he, you are he.
Anth.
At a word I am not.
Vrsula.
Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe to mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's an end.
Beat.
Will you not tell me who told you so?
Bene.
No, you shall pardon me.
Beat.
Nor will you not tell me who you are?
Bened.
Not now.
Beat. That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signior Benedicke that said so.
Bene.
What's he?
Beat.
I am sure you know him well enough.
Bene.
Not I, beleeue me.
Beat.
Did he neuer make you laugh?
Bene.
I pray you what is he?
Beat.
Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole, onely his gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleaseth 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 boorded me.
Bene.
When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what you say.
Beat.
Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Partridge wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that night. We must follow the Leaders.
Ben.
In euery good thing.
Bea.
Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them at the next turning. Exeunt.
Musicke for the dance.
Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines.
Borachio.
And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing.
Iohn.
Are not you signior Benedicke?
Clau.
You know me well, I am hee.
Iohn.
Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him from her, she is no equall for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it.
Claudio.
How know you he loues her?
Iohn.
I heard him sweare his affection.
Bor.
So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her to night.
Iohn.
Come, let vs to the banquet. Ex. manet Clau.
Clau.
Thus answere I in name of Benedicke, But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio: 'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for himselfe: Friendship is constant in all other things, Saue in the Office and affaires of loue: Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues. Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe, And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch, Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood: This is an accident of hourely proofe, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero.
Enter Benedicke.
Count Claudio.
Clau.
Yea, the same.
Ben.
Come, will you goe with me?
Clau.
Whither?
Ben.
Euen to the next Willow, about your own businesse, Count. What fashion will you weare the Garland off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.
Clau.
I wish him ioy of her.
Ben.
Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold haue serued you thus?
Clau.
I pray you leaue me.
Ben.
Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the boy that stole your meate, and you'l beat the post.
Clau.
If it will not be, Ile leaue you. Exit.
Ben.
Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into sedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, & not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, Ile be reuenged as I may.
Enter the Prince.
Now Signior, where's the Count, did you see him?
Bene.
Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your grace had got the 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 binde him a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.
Pedro.
To be whipt, what's his fault?
Bene.
The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his companion, and he steales it.
Pedro.
Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer.
Ben.
Yet it had not been amisse the rod had beene made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest.
Pedro.
I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.
Bene.
If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say honestly.
Pedro.
The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much wrong'd by you.
Bene.
O she misusde me past the indurance of a block: an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary, and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation followes her.
Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.
Looke heere she comes.
Bene.
Will your Grace command mee any seruice to the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment for me?
Pedro.
None, but to desire your good company.
Bene.
O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure this Lady tongue. Exit.
Pedr.
Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of Signior Benedicke.
Beatr.
Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I haue lost it.
Pedro.
You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put him downe.
Beat.
So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke.
Pedro.
Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?
Claud.
Not sad my Lord.
Pedro.
How then? sicke?
Claud.
Neither, my Lord.
Beat.
The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry, nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something of a iealous complexion.
Pedro.
Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true. though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false: heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue thee ioy.
Leona.
Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace say, Amen to it.
Beatr.
Speake Count, tis your Qu.
Claud.
Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and doat vpon the exchange.
Beat.
Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kisse, and let not him speake neither.
Pedro.
In faith Lady you haue a merry heart.
Beatr.
Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare that he is in my heart.
Clau.
And so she doth coosin.
Beat.
Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner and cry, heigh ho for a husband.
Pedro.
Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat.
I would rather haue one of your fathers getting: hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.
Prince.
Will you haue me? Lady.
Beat.
No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne to speake all mirth, and no matter.
Prince.
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes you, for out of question, you were born in a merry howre.
Beatr.
No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins God giue you ioy.
Leonato.
Neece, will you looke to those things I told you of?
Beat.
I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon. Exit Beatrice.
Prince.
By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady.
Leon.
There's little of the melancholy element in her my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with laughing.
Pedro.
Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband.
Leonato.
O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers out of suite.
Prince.
She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leonato.
O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke
married, they would talke themselues madde.
Prince.
Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to Church?
Clau.
To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches, till Loue haue all his rites.
Leonato.
Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is hence a iust seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue all things answer minde.
Prince.
Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th' one with th' other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall giue you direction.
Leonato.
My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee ten nights watchings.
Claud.
And I my Lord.
Prin.
And you to gentle Hero?
Hero.
I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe my cosin to a good husband.
Prin.
And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble straine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will teach you how to humour your cosin, that shee shall fall in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely loue-gods, goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift. Exit.
Enter Iohn and Borachio.
It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter of Leonato.
Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can crosse it.
Iohn.
Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be medicinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and whatsoeuer comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly with mine, how canst thou crosse this marriage?
Bor.
Not honestly my Lord, but so couertly, that no dishonesty shall appeare in me.
Iohn.
Shew me breefely how.
Bor.
I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere since, how much I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.
Iohn.
I remember.
Bor.
I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to looke out at her Ladies chamber window.
Iohn.
What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?
Bor.
The poyson of that lies in you to temper, goe you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that hee hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold vp, to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.
Iohn.
What proofe shall I make of that?
Bor.
Proofe enough, to misuse the Prince, to vexe Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any other issue?
Iohn.
Onely to despight them, I will endeauour any thing.
Bor.
Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero loues me, intend a kinde of zeale both to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your brothers honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation, who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see mee at her chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare Margaret terme me Claudio, and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the meane time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appeare such seeming truths of Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shall be cal'd assurance, and all the preparation ouerthrowne.
Iohn.
Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will put it in practise: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducates.
Bor.
Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me.
Iohn.
I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage. Exit.
Enter Benedicke alone.
Boy.
Boy.
Signior.
Bene.
In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it hither to me in the orchard.
Boy.
I am heere already sir. Exit.
Bene.
I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and heere againe. I doe much wonder, that one man seeing how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his behauiours to loue, will after hee hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his owne scorne, by falling in loue, & such a man is Claudio. I haue known when there was no musicke with him but the drum and the fife, and now had hee rather heare the taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet: he was wont to speake plaine, & to the purpose (like an honest man & a souldier) and now is he turn'd orthography, his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted, & see with these eyes? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee sworne, but loue may transforme me to an oyster, but Ile take my oath on it, till he haue made an oyster of me, he shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is faire, yet I am well: another is wise, yet I am well: another vertuous, yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace: rich shee shall be, that's certaine: wise, or Ile none: vertuous, or Ile neuer cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on her: milde, or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of good discourse: an excellent Musitian, and her haire shal be of what colour it please God, hah! the Prince and Monsieur Loue, I will hide me in the Arbor.
Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Iacke Wilson.
Come, shall we heare this musicke?
Claud.
Yea my good Lord: how still the euening is. As husht on purpose to grace harmonie.
Prin.
See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe?
Clau.
O very well my Lord: the musicke ended, Wee'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth.
Prince.
Come Balthasar, wee'll heare that song again.
Balth.
O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce, To slander musicke any more then once.
Prin.
It is the witnesse still of excellency,
To slander Musicke any more then once.
Prince.
It is the witnesse still of excellencie, To put a strange face on his owne perfection, I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more.
Balth.
Because you talke of wooing, I will sing,
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit,
To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he sweare he loues.
Prince.
Nay pray thee come, Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, Doe it in notes.
Balth.
Note this before my notes, Theres not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
Prince.
Why these are very crotchets that he speaks, Note notes forsooth, and nothing.
Bene.
Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it not strange that sheepes guts should hale soules out of mens bodies? well, a horne for my money when all's done.
The Song.
Men were deceiuers euer, One foote in Sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant neuer, Then sigh not so, but let them goe, And be you blithe and bonnie, Conuerting all your sounds of woe, Into hey nony nony.
Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, Of dumps so dull and heauy, The fraud of men were euer so, Since summer first was leauy, Then sigh not so, &c.
Prince.
By my troth a good song.
Balth.
And an ill singer, my Lord.
Prince.
Ha, no, no faith, thou singst well enough for a shift.
Ben.
And he had been a dog that should haue howld thus, they would haue hang'd him, and I pray God his bad voyce bode no mischiefe, I had as liefe haue heard the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after it.
Prince.
Yea marry, dost thou heare Balthasar? I pray thee get vs some excellent musick: for to morrow night we would haue it at the Lady Heroes chamber window.
Balth.
The best I can, my Lord. Exit Balthasar.
Prince.
Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in loue with signior Benedicke?
Cla.
O I, stalke on, stalke on, the foule sits. I did neuer thinke that Lady would haue loued any man.
Leon.
No, nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she should so dote on Signior Benedicke, whom shee hath in all outward behauiours seemed euer to abhorre.
Bene.
Is't possible? sits the winde in that corner?
Leo.
By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought.
Prince.
May be she doth but counterfeit.
Claud.
Faith like enough.
Leon.
O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she discouers it.
Prince.
Why what effects of passion shewes she?
Claud.
Baite the hooke well, this fish will bite.
Leon.
What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how.
Clau.
She did indeed.
Prince.
How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would haue thought her spirit had beene inuincible against all assaults of affection.
Leo.
I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially against Benedicke.
Bene.
I should thinke this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide himselfe in such reuerence.
Claud.
He hath tane th' infection, hold it vp.
Prince.
Hath shee made her affection known to Benedicke?
Leonato.
No, and sweares she neuer will, that's her torment.
Claud.
'Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall I, saies she, that haue so oft encountred him with scorne, write to him that I loue him?
Leo.
This saies shee now when shee is beginning to write to him, for shee'll be vp twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smocke, till she haue writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells vs all.
Clau.
Now you talke of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty iest your daughter told vs of.
Leon.
O when she had writ it, & was reading it ouer, she found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete.
Clau.
That.
Leon.
O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, raild at her self, that she should be so immodest to write, to one that shee knew would flout her: I measure him, saies she, by my owne spirit, for I should flout him if hee writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should.
Clau.
Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes, sobs, beates her heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience.
Leon.
She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the extasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is somtime afeard she will doe a desperate out-rage to her selfe, it is very true.
Prince.
It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some other, if she will not discouer it.
Clau.
To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poore Lady worse.
Prin.
And he should, it were an almes to hang him, shee's an excellent sweet Lady, and (out of all suspition,) she is vertuous.
Claudio.
And she is exceeding wise.
Prince.
In euery thing, but in louing Benedicke.
Leon.
O my Lord, wisedome and bloud combating in so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath the victory, I am sorry for her, as I haue iust cause, being her Vncle, and her Guardian.
Prince.
I would shee had bestowed this dotage on mee, I would haue daft all other respects, and made her halfe my selfe: I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare what he will say.
Leon.
Were it good thinke you?
Clau.
Hero thinkes surely she wil die, for she saies she will die, if hee loue her not, and shee will die ere shee make her loue knowne, and she will die if hee wooe her, rather than shee will bate one breath of her accustomed crossenesse.
Prince.
She doth well, if she should make tender of her
loue, 'tis very possible hee'l scorne it, for the man (as you know all) hath a contemptible spirit.
Clau.
He is a very proper man.
Prin.
He hath indeed a good outward happines.
Clau.
'Fore God, and in my minde very wise.
Prin.
He doth indeed shew some sparkes that are like wit.
Leon.
And I take him to be valiant.
Prin.
As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you may see hee is wise, for either hee auoydes them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a Christian-like feare.
Leon.
If hee doe feare God, a must necessarilie keepe peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrell with feare and trembling.
Prin.
And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God, howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large ieasts hee will make: well, I am sorry for your niece, shall we goe see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue.
Claud.
Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with good counsell.
Leon.
Nay that's impossible, she may weare her heart out first.
Prin.
Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter, let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himselfe, to see how much he is vnworthy to haue so good a Lady.
Leon.
My Lord, will you walke? dinner is ready.
Clau.
If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer trust my expectation.
Prin.
Let there be the same Net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry: the sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of anothers dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I would see, which will be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs send her to call him into dinner. Exeunt.
Bene.
This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they seeme to pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue the full bent: loue me? why it must be requited: I heare how I am censur'd, they say I will beare my selfe proudly, if I perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she will rather die than giue any signe of affection: I did neuer thinke to marry, I must not seeme proud, happy are they that heare their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say the Lady is faire, 'tis a truth, I can beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her folly; for I wil be horribly in loue with her, I may chance haue some odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken on mee, because I haue rail'd so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these paper bullets of the braine awe a man from the careere of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a batcheler, I did not think I should liue till I were maried, here comes Beatrice: by this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe spie some markes of loue in her.
Enter Beatrice.
Beat.
Against my wil I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.
Bene.
Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines.
Beat.
I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then you take paines to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I would not haue come.
Bene.
You take pleasure then in the message.
Beat.
Yea iust so much as you may take vpon a kniues point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomacke signior, fare you well. Exit.
Bene.
Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I tooke no more paines for those thankes then you took paines to thanke me, that's as much as to say, any paines that I take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I will goe get her picture. Exit.
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