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. 2 Watch. How, if he will not stand? Dogb. 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. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince's subjects. Dogb. 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. 2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a watch. Dogb. 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 those that are drunk get them to bed. 2 Watch. How, if they will not? Dogh. 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. 2 Watch. Well, sir. Dogb. 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. 2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? Dogb. 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. Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner. Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; much more a man who hath any honesty in him. Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 2 Watch. How, if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Dogb. Why, then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats. Verg. "Tis very true. Dogb. 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. Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that, I think, he cannot. Dogb. 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. Verg. By'r lady, I think it be so. Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows' counsel and your own, and good night.-Come, neighbor. 2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to-bed. Dogb. One word more, honest neighbors: I Weapons of the watchmen. Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. Pora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow. Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy tale. Bora. Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch. [Aside.] Some treason, masters; yet stand close." Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of don John a thousand ducats. Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were possible any villany should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. Con. I wonder at it. Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed: Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. Con. Yes, it is apparel. Bora. I mean the fashion. Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Bora. Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. But see'st thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? Watch. I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief this seven year; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is now giddily he turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-andthirty? sometime, fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy painting; sometime, like god Bel's priests in the old church window; somet.me, like the shaven Hercules in the smirched wormeaten tapestry, where his cod-piece seems as massy as his club? Con. All this I see; and 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? Bora. Not so neither: but know, that I have to-night 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 :-[ 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. Con. And thought they, Margaret was Hero? Bora. 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 villany, which did confirm any Unpractised in the ways of the world. 1 Smoked. Soiled. slander that don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw over-night, and send her home again without a husband. 1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, stand. 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable: We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. 1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock. Con. Masters, masters,- Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels!then if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns. Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. Beat. 'I is almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: -hey ho! Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. Beat. What means the fool, trow? Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their I'll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new attire 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. Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours: Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced with silver; set with pearls, down sleeves, sidesleeves, 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 is exceeding heavy! a man. my heart Hero. There gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold. Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have you profess'd apprehension? Marg. Ever since you left it: doth not my wit become me rarely? in Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it your cap. By my troth, I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm. Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. Marg. Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy thistle. You may think, perchance, that I think you are in love: nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love; yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging: and how you may be converted, I know not; but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? Re-enter URSULA. Urs. Madam, withdraw; the prince, the count, Marg. "Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of signior Benedick, don John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church. Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Another Room in Leonato's House. Enter LEONATO, with DOG BERRY and VERGES. Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbor. Hero. Fie upon thee! art not ashamed? Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honorably? Is not marriage honorable in a beggar? Is not your lord honorable without marriage? I think you would have me say, saving your reverence,a husband: an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody: Is there any harm in -the heavier for a husband? None, I think, an if it be the right husband, and the right wife; otherwise, 'tis light, and not heavy: Ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes. Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with that decerns you nearly. you, Leon. Brief, I pray you, for, you see, 'tis a busy time with me. Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir. Verg. Yes, in truth, it is, sir. Leon. What is it, my good friends? Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter; an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest, as the skin between his brows. Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any 4i. e. for an ache or pain. I man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbor Verges. Leon. Neighbors, you are tedious. Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me! ha! Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis: for I hear as good exclamation on your worship, as of any man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. Verg. And so am I. Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking; as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out: God help us! it is a world to see! Well said, i'faith, neighbor Verges:- well, God's a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind: -An honest soul, i'faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but, God is to be worshipped: all men are not alike; alas, good neighbor! Leon. Indeed, neighbor, he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts, that God gives. Leon. I must leave you. Dogb. One word, sir; our watch, sir, have, indeed, comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship. Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me; I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you. Dagb. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drink some wine ere you go; fare you well. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. Leon. I will wait upon them; I am ready. [Exeunt LEONATO and Messenger. Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and ink horn to the gaol; we are now to examination these men. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here's that [Touching his forehead.] shall drive some of them to a non com: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.-The Inside of a Church. Enter Don PEDRO, Don JOHN, LEONATO, Friar, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, &c. Leon. Coine, friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of marriage, and you shail recount their particular duties afterwards. Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? Claud. No. Leon. To be married to her, friar; you come to marry her. Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? Hero. I do. Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utter it. Claud. Know you any, Hero? Friar. Know you any, count? Leon. I dare make his answer, none. Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! not knowing what they do! Bene. How now! Interjections? Why, then some be of laughing, as ha! ha! he! Claud. Stand thee by, friar :-Father, by your Will you with free and unconstrained soul Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? fulness. There, Leonato, take her back again; Behold, how like a maid she blushes here: Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, Leon. What do you mean, my lord? Not to be married, Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. Claud. I know what you would say; if I have You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, I never tempted her with word too large,' Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy seeming! I will write against it: You seem to me as Dian in her orb: Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide?" I stand dishonor'd, that have gone about Leon. Are these things spoken? or do I but dream? are true. Hero. True? O God! | Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame?' Claud. Leonato, stand I here? And, by that fatherly and kindly power Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Marry, that can Hero; Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden.-Leonato, I am sorry you must hear; Upon mine honor, D. John. Fye, fye! they are Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of; There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence to utter them: Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart! But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [HERO SWOONS. Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink you down? D. John. Come, let us go; these things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt Don PEDRO, Don JOHN, and CLAUDIO. Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think:-help, uncle;Hero! why, Hero!-Uncle !-Signior Benedick! friar! O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? Bene. Beat. O, on my soul my cousin is belied! made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! For I have only been silent so long, Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy!-O my father, Prove you that any man with me convers'd At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight How now, cousin Hero! Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand! Death is the fairest cover for her shame, That may be wish'd for. Beat. Friar. Have comfort, lady. Leon. Dost thou look up? Friar. Yea; wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood? Do not live, Hero: do not ope thine eyes: For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? • Too free of tongue. Friar. There is some strange misprision3 in the princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honor; And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. Leon. I know not; If they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honor, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Disposition of things. Sullied. Misconception. Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do? Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, Than when she liv'd indeed:-then shall he mourn, love Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, As secretly, and justly, as your soul Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wrong'd. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man do it? Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you: Is not that strange? Beat. As strange as the thing I know not: It were as possible for me to say, I love nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor, I deny nothing:-I am sorry for my cousin. Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word? Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it: I protest, I love thee. Beat. Why then, God forgive me! Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I loved you. Bene. And do it with all thy heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to deny it: Farewell Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, though I am here:-There is no love in you:-Nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice, Beat. In faith, I will go. Bene. We'll be friends first. Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonored my kinswoman?-0, that I were a man!-What! bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancor,-O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. Bene. Hear me, Beatrice; Beat. Talk with a man out at a window ?-a proper saying! Bene. Nay, but, Beatrice; Beat. Sweet Hero!-she is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. Bene. Beat Beat. Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-confect; a sweet gal Being that I flow in grief, lant, surely! O, that I were a man for his sake! or The smallest twine may lead me. Leon. Friar. "Tis well consented; presently away; For to strange sores strangely they strain the that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valor into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it:-I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice: By this hand, I | love thee. Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. Bene. Think you in your soul the count Clandio hath wronged Hero? |