62 The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, by William Shakespeare
ACT I
SCENE I. Before Leonato’s House.
Enter Leonato, Hero, Beatrice and others, with a
Messenger.
LEONATO.
I learn in this letter that Don Pedro 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 Pedro 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 is 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
trencher-man; 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; and 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 he 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,
Balthasar and Others.
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, and ’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 heartly 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 but 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 enquire 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 and 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 to 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 threescore again? Go
to, i’ faith; and thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the
print of it and sigh away Sundays.
Re-enter Don Pedro.
Look! Don Pedro is returned to seek you.
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 will 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 looked upon her with a soldier’s eye,
That lik’d, 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 lik’d 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 salv’d 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 lov’st,
And I will fit thee with the remedy.
I know we shall have revelling tonight:
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 practice 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 my 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.
[Several persons cross the stage.]
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. Another room in
Leonato’s house.
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 blessings brings it?
CONRADE.
If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance.
DON JOHN.
I wonder that thou (being as thou say’st 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 to prove what’s to be done?
BORACHIO.
We’ll wait upon your Lordship.
[Exeunt.]