Much Ado About Nothing Page 5

  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

  tonight.

  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 woos 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!

  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,

  count. 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 drover, 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.

  Enter the Prince [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 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 bird’s 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 bird’s 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, and 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 had 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.

  Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato[and] Hero

  DON PEDRO Look, here she comes.

  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 Pygmies,

  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

  this 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 a

  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 all 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

  Claudio and Hero kiss?

  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 everyone to the

  world but I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry

  ‘Hey-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

  To Don Pedro

  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

  dreamt 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 Benedick.

  LEONATO O lord, my lord, if they were but a week married,

  they would talk themselves mad.

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

  CLAUDIO Tomorrow, 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, th’one with th’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 humour your cousin that she shall fall in love with

  Benedick, and I, with your two helps, will so

  To Leonato and Claudio

  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: his

  glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with

  me, and I will tell you my drift.

  Exeunt

  [Act 2 Scene 2]

  running scene 4 continues

  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 anything.

  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 a 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

  truths 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

  practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a

  thousand ducats.

  BORACHIO Be thou constant in the accusation, and my

  cunning shall not shame me.

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

  Exeunt

  [Act 2 Scene 3]

  running scene 5

  Enter Benedick, alone

  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 behaviours to love, will,

  after he hath l
aughed at such shallow follies in others,

  become the argument of his own scorn by falling 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 tabor and the pipe. I have known when he

  would have walked ten mile afoot 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.

  He hides in the arbor

  Enter[Don Pedro], Leonato, Claudio and [Balthasar]

  DON PEDRO Come, shall we hear this music?

  CLAUDIO Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is,

  As hushed 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.

  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 woos,