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Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

D. Pedro. What! a feast, a feast? Claud. I' faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf's-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too?


Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. D. Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit. True,' said she, 'a fine little one.' said I, 'a great wit.' Right,' says she, 'a great gross one.' 'Nay,' said I, 'a good wit.' 'Just,' said she, it hurts nobody.' Nay,' said I, the gentleman is wise.' Certain,' said she, 'a wise gentleman.' 'Nay,' said I, 'he hath the tongues.' That I believe,' said she, 'for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning: there's a double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus did she, an hour together, trans-shape thy particular virtues; yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.

Claud. For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not.

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Bene. Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company. Your brother the bastard is fled from Messina: you have, among you, killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet; and till then, peace be with him. Exit.

D. Pedro. He is in earnest.

Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.

D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee?
Claud. Most sincerely.


D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!

Claud. He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.

D. Pedro. But, soft you; let me be: pluck up, my heart, and be sad! Did he not say my

brother was fled?


Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO.

Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.


D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge.

Dogb. Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance. Nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.

D. Pedro. How now! two of my brother's men bound! Borachio one! Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord! D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done?

Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited.


D. Pedro. Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence?

Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no further to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light; who in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgraced her, when you should marry her. My villany they have upon record; which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.


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Re-enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, and the Sexton. Leon. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes, That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him: which of these is he? Bora. If you would know your wronger, look


on me.

Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd Mine innocent child?

Bora. Yea, even I alone. Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself: Here stand a pair of honourable men; A third is fled, that had a hand in it.

I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death: Record it with your high and worthy deeds. 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

Claud, I know not how to pray your patience;

28 )



Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge your- D. Pedio. We will not fail. self;

Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero. Imposę me to what penance your invention

Exeunt Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO. Can lay upon my sin : yet sinn'd I not

Leon. To the Watch. Bring you these fellows on. But in mistaking.

We 'll talk with Margaret, D. Peiro, By my soul, nor I ;

How heracquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. And yet, to satisfy this good old man,

E.ceunt. I would bend under any heavy weight That be'll enjoin me to.

SCENE II. -LEONATO's Garden. Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live;

Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeling. That were impossible: but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here

Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, How innocent she died; and, if your love 290 deserve well at my hands by helping me to the Can labour aught in sad invention,

speech of Beatrice. Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,

Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in And sing it to her bones : sing it to-night. praise of my beauty ? To-morrow morning come you to my house, Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no And since you could not be my son-in-law, man living shall come over it ; for, in most Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, comely truth, thou deservest it. Almost the copy of my child that's dead,

Marg. To have no man come over me! why, And she alone is heir to both of us :

shall I always keep below stairs ? Give her the right you should have given her Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's cousin,

mouth; it catches. And so dies my revenge.

Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, Claud.

O noble sir! 30 which hit, but hurt not. Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me. Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not I do embrace your offer; and dispose

hurt a woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice. For henceforth of poor Claudio.

I give thee the bucklers. Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers coming;

of our own. To-night I take my leave. This naughty man Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, put in the pikes with a vice; and they are Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, dangerous weapons for maids. Hir'd to it by your brother.

Marg, Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who Bora.

No, by my soul, she was not; I think hath legs. Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to Bene. And therefore will come. me;

Exit MARGARET, But always hath been just and virtuous

The god of love, In any thing that I do know by her.

That sits above, Dogb. Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under

And knows me, and knows me, white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender,

How pitiful I deserve,did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remem-I mean in singing ; but in loving, Leander the bered in his punishment. And also, the watch good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he pandars, and a whole bookful of these quondam wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging by it, carpet-inongers, whose names yet run smoothly and borrows money in God's name; the which in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were he hath used so long and never paid, that now

never so truly turned over and over as my poor men grow hard-hearted, and will land nothing self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rime; for God's sake. Pray you, examine him upon I have tried : I can find out no rime to lady that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest a hard rime ; for school, fool,' a babbling

322 but baby,' an innocent rime; for ‘scorn,''horn,' pains.

rime; very ominous endings. No, I was not Doub. Your worship speaks like a most thank. born under a riming planet, nor I cannot woo ful and reverend youth, and I praise God for you. in festival terms,

Leon. There's for thy pains.
Dogb. God save the foundation !

Enter BEATRICE. Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I and I thank thee.

called thee? Dogh. I leave an arrant knave with your wor- Beat. Yea, signior; and depart when you bid me. ship ; which I beseech your worship to correct Bene. O! stay but till then. yourself for the example of others. God keep Beat. “Then' is spoken; fare you well now: your worship! I wish your worship well: God and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came ; restore you to health! I humbly give you leave which is, with knowing what hath passed to depart, and if a merry meeting may be wished, between you and Claudio. God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.

Bene. Only foul words ; and thereupon I will Ereunt DOGBERRY and VERGES. kiss thee. · Leon. Until tomorrow morning, lords, fare. Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul well.

wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is Ant. Farewell, my lords ; we look for you to noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his



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right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But, I must

SONG. tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge,

Pardon, goddess of the night, and either I must shortly hear from him, or I

Those that slew thy virgin knight ; will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee

For the which, with songs of woe now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst

Round about her tomb they go. thou first fall in love with me?

Midnight, assist our moan ; Beat. For them all together ; which maintained

Hep us to sigh and groan, so politic a state of evil that they will not admit

Heavily, heavily : any good part to intermingle with them. But for

Graves, yawn and yield your dead, which of my good parts did you first suffer love

Till death be uttered, for me?

Heavily, hearily. Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet. I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night! Bea'. In spite of your heart, I think. Alas!

Yearly will I do this rite. poor heart. If you spite it for my sake, I will D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters : put your spite it for yours; for I will never love that torches out. which my friend hates.

The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. day,

Beat. It appears not in this confession: there's Before the wheels of Phæbus, round about not one wise man among twenty that will praise Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey: himself.

Thanks to you all, and leave us : fare you well. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that Claud. Good morrow, masters : each his lived in the time of good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, D. Peiro. Come, let us hence, and put on he shall live no longer in monument than the

other weeds; bell rings and the widow weeps.

And then to Leonato's we will go. Beat. And how long is that, think you ? Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue

Bene. Question : why, an hour in clamour and speed's, a quarter in rheum: therefore is it most expedient Than this for whom we render'd up this woe! for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find

Ereunt. no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much SCENE IV.-A Room in LEONATO's House. for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy. And now tell me, how Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEA. doth your cousin ?


and HERO. Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you ?

Fri. Did I not tell you she was innocent? Beat. Very ill too.

Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There accus'd her will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Upon the error that you heard debated :

But Margaret was in some fault for this,

Although against her will, as it appears
Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. In the true course of all the question.
Yonder's old coil at home: it is proved my Lady Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well

. Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomenall, come presently ?

102 Withdraw ito a chamber by yourselves, Bcat. Will you go hear this news, signior?

And when I send for you, come hither mask'd : Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will To visit me.

Exeunt Ladies go with thee to thy uncle's.


You know your office, brother:

You must be father to your brother's daughter, SCENE III.--The Inside of a Church.

And give her to young Claudio.

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd counte. Enter. Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and Attendants,

nance. with music and tapers.

Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato ?

Pri. To do what, signior ? A Lord. It is, my lord.

Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of them. Claud.

Reads from a scroll. Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Done to death by slanderous tongues

Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. Was the Hero that here lies :

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: 'tis

most true.
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gires her fame which never dies.

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her,

Leon. The sight whereof I think you had
So the life that died with shame
Lives in death with glorious fame.

From Claudio, and the prince. But what's your Hang thou there upon the tomb,

will ? Praising her when I am dumb.

Bene, Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. But, for my will, my will is your good will



from me,


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Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked. Claud. For this I owe you: here come other reckonings.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand: before this holy friar, I am your husband, if you like of me.

Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife: Unmasking. 60 And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero! Hero.

Nothing certainer : One Hero died defil'd, but I do live, And, surely as I live, I am a maid.

D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.

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Hero. And here's another Containing her affection unto Benedick. Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket,

Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.


Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth. Kisses her. D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it, for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but, in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.


Cland. I had well hoped thou would'st have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a doubledealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends. Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterward.

Bene. First, of my word; therefore play, music! Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.

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Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,

And brought with armed men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers.


Dance. Exeunt.

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Live register'd upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
The endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen

And make us heirs of all eternity.
Therefore, brave conquerors, for so you are,
That war against your own affections
And the huge army of the world's desires,
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;
Our court shall be a little academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.


King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their As, not to see a woman in that term,


You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longaville, Have sworn for three years' term to live with me, My fellow scholars, and to keep those statutes That are recorded in this schedule here:

Your oaths are pass'd; and now subscribe your

DULL, a Constable.
COSTARD, a Clown.
MOTH, Page to Armado.
A Forester.




Ladies attending on the Princess.

JAQUENETTA, a country Wench.



That his own hand may strike his honour down
That violates the smallest branch herein.
If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.
Long. I am resolv'd; 'tis but a three years'

The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.
Dum. My loving lord, Dumaine is mortified:
The grosser manner of these world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:

To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; n With all these living in philosophy.

Berowne. I can but say their protestation over; So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, That is, to live and study here three years. But there are other strict observances;

Which I hope well is not enrolled there :
And one day in a week to touch no food,
And but one meal on every day beside;
The which I hope is not enrolled there :
And then, to sleep but three hours in the night
And not be seen to wink of all the day,
When I was wont to think no harm all night
And make a dark night too of half the day,
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
O! these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,
Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.
King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from

Berowne. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please.

I only swore to study with your grace,
And stay here in your court for three years' space.
Long. You swore to that, Berowne, and to the

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