Much Ado About Nothing Read online

  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

  Act 3 Scene 2

  running scene 7

  Enter Prince [Don Pedro], Claudio, Benedick and Leonato

  DON PEDRO I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and

  then go I toward Aragon.

  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, everyone cannot 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 tomorrow. Unless he have a

  fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for

  fancy, as you would have it to 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: 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 the Bastard

  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 Means your lordship to be married

  To Claudio

  tomorrow?

  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 JOHN 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 tonight, you shall see her chamber window entered, even

  the night before her wedding-day. If you love her then,

  tomorrow 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 anything tonight why I should not marry

  her tomorrow 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 night, 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

  [Act 3 Scene 3]

  running scene 8

  Enter Dogberry and his compartner [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

  Second Watchman steps forward

  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 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 them 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 baas 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 lady, that I think a cannot.

  DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on’t, with any man that knows

  the statues, 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, ah, 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.

  Starts to go

  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 tomorrow, there is a great coil tonight. Adieu. Be

  vigitant, I beseech you.

  Exeunt [Dogberry and Verges]

  Enter Borachio and Conrad

  BORACHIO What, Conrad?

  WATCHMAN Peace! Stir not.

  Aside

  BORACHIO Conrad, I say!

  CONRAD Here, man, I am at thy elbow.

  BORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itched, I thought there would a

  scab follow.

  CONRAD I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward

  with thy tale.

  BORACHIO Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it

  drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.

  WATCHMAN Some treason, masters. Yet stand close.

  Aside

  BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a

  thousand ducats.

  CONRAD 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.

  CONRAD 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.

  CONRAD Yes, it is apparel.

  BORACHIO I mean the fashion.

  CONRAD 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 I know that Deformed: a has been a vile

  Aside

  thief this seven years, a goes up and down like a gentleman.

  I remember his name.

  BORACHIO Didst thou not hear somebody?

  CONRAD 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 reechy 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?

  CONRAD 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 tonight

  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.

  CONRAD 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 tem
ple, 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.

  CONRAD Masters, masters—

  SECOND WATCHMAN You’ll be made bring Deformed forth, I

  warrant you.

  CONRAD 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.

  CONRAD A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come,

  we’ll obey you.

  Exeunt

  Act 3 Scene 4

  running scene 8

  Enter Hero and 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 a 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