ACT III SCENE IV HERO's apartment. [Enter HERO, 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 o' 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 marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, 'saving your reverence, a husband:' and bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody: is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband'? None, I think, and it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes. [Enter BEATRICE] HERO Good morrow, coz. BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. HERO Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune? BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. MARGARET Clap's into 'Light o' love;' that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I'll dance it. BEATRICE Ye light o' love, with your heels! then, if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns. MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. BEATRICE 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho! MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H. MARGARET Well, and you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? MARGARET Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire! HERO These gloves the count sent me; they are an excellent perfume. BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell. MARGARET A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold. BEATRICE O, God help me! God help me! how long have you professed apprehension? MARGARET Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely? BEATRICE It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. MARGARET 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 prickest her with a thistle. BEATRICE Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. MARGARET 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. BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? MARGARET Not a false gallop. [Re-enter URSULA] URSULA Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, 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] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ACT III SCENE V Another room in LEONATO'S house. [Enter LEONATO, with DOGBERRY and VERGES] LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbour? DOGBERRY Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly. LEONATO Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me. DOGBERRY Marry, this it is, sir. VERGES Yes, in truth it is, sir. LEONATO What is it, my good friends? DOGBERRY 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. VERGES Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I. DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges. LEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious. DOGBERRY 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 it in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ah? DOGBERRY Yea, an 'twere a thousand pound 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. VERGES And so am I. LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. VERGES Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. DOGBERRY 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, neighbour 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 neighbour! LEONATO Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives. LEONATO I must leave you. DOGBERRY One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship. LEONATO Take their examination yourself and bring it me: I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you. DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. [Enter a Messenger] Messenger My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. LEONATO I'll wait upon them: I am ready. [Exeunt LEONATO and Messenger] DOGBERRY Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now to examination these men. VERGES And we must do it wisely. DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here's that shall drive some of them to a non-come: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ACT IV SCENE I A church. [Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, FRIAR FRANCIS, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and Attendants] LEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. FRIAR FRANCIS You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady. CLAUDIO No. LEONATO To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her. FRIAR FRANCIS Lady, you come hither to be married to this count. HERO I do. FRIAR FRANCIS If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, charge you, on your souls, to utter it. CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? HERO None, my lord. FRIAR FRANCIS Know you any, count? LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. CLAUDIO O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! BENEDICK How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as, ah, ha, he! CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave: Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid, your daughter? LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me. CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? DON PEDRO Nothing, unless you render her again. CLAUDIO Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. There, Leonato, take her back again: Give not this rotten orange to your friend; She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. Behold how like a maid she blushes here! O, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! Comes not that blood as modest evidence To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid, By these exterior shows? But she is none: She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. LEONATO What do you mean, my lord? CLAUDIO Not to be married, Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. LEONATO Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity,-- CLAUDIO I know what you would say: if I have known her, You will say she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the 'forehand sin: No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large; But, as a brother to his sister, show'd Bashful sincerity and comely love. HERO And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? CLAUDIO Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it: You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals That rage in savage sensuality. HERO Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? LEONATO Sweet prince, why speak not you? DON PEDRO What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale. LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? DON JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial. HERO True! O God! CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? is this the prince's brother? Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? LEONATO All this is so: but what of this, my lord? CLAUDIO Let me but move one question to your daughter; And, by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. HERO O, God defend me! how am I beset! What kind of catechising call you this? CLAUDIO To make you answer truly to your name. HERO Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name With any just reproach? CLAUDIO 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. DON PEDRO Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, Myself, my brother and this grieved count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. DON JOHN Fie, fie! they are not to be named, 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. CLAUDIO 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. LEONATO Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [HERO swoons] BEATRICE Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down? DON JOHN Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, and CLAUDIO] BENEDICK How doth the lady? BEATRICE Dead, I think. Help, uncle! Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! LEONATO O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand. Death is the fairest cover for her shame That may be wish'd for. BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero! FRIAR FRANCIS Have comfort, lady. LEONATO Dost thou look up? FRIAR FRANCIS Yea, wherefore should she not? LEONATO 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. Grieved I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not with charitable hand Took up a beggar's issue at my gates, Who smirch'd thus and mired with infamy, I might have said 'No part of it is mine; This shame derives itself from unknown loins'? But mine and mine I loved and mine I praised And mine that I was proud on, mine so much That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her,--why, she, O, she is fallen Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again And salt too little which may season give To her foul-tainted flesh! BENEDICK Sir, sir, be patient. For my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say. BEATRICE O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? BEATRICE No, truly not; although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. LEONATO Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die. FRIAR FRANCIS Hear me a little; for I have only been Silent so long and given way unto This course of fortune [ ] By noting of the lady I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes; And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, To burn the errors that these princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool; Trust not my reading nor my observations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenor of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Under some biting error. LEONATO Friar, it cannot be. Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left Is that she will not add to her damnation A sin of perjury; she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness? FRIAR FRANCIS Lady, what man is he you are accused of? HERO They know that do accuse me; I know none: If I know more of any man alive Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, Prove you that any man with me conversed At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death! FRIAR FRANCIS There is some strange misprision in the princes. BENEDICK Two of them have the very bent of honour; And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practise of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. LEONATO I know not. If they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, 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, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find, awaked in such a kind, Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly. FRIAR FRANCIS Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princes left for dead: Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed; Maintain a mourning ostentation And on your family's old monument Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. LEONATO What shall become of this? what will this do? FRIAR FRANCIS Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf Change slander to remorse; that is some good: But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth. She dying, as it must so be maintain'd, Upon the instant that she was accused, Shall be lamented, pitied and excused Of every hearer: for it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio: When he shall hear she died upon his words, The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, More moving-delicate and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest in his liver, And wish he had not so accused her, No, though he thought his accusation true. Let this be so, and doubt not but success Will fashion the event in better shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim but this be levell'd false, The supposition of the lady's death Will quench the wonder of her infamy: And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries. BENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: And though you know my inwardness and love Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly as your soul Should with your body. LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. FRIAR FRANCIS 'Tis well consented: presently away; For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day Perhaps is but prolong'd: have patience and endure. [Exeunt all but BENEDICK and BEATRICE] BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. BENEDICK I will not desire that. BEATRICE You have no reason; I do it freely. BENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. BEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! BENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship? BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. BENEDICK May a man do it? BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours. BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange? BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved 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. BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. BEATRICE Do not swear, and eat it. BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee. BEATRICE Why, then, God forgive me! BENEDICK What offence, sweet Beatrice? BEATRICE You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved you. BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. BENEDICK Come, bid me do any thing for thee. BEATRICE Kill Claudio. BENEDICK Ha! not for the wide world. BEATRICE You kill me to deny it. Farewell. BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. BEATRICE I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go. BENEDICK Beatrice,-- BEATRICE In faith, I will go. BENEDICK We'll be friends first. BEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy. BENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy? BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, --O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice,-- BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying! BENEDICK Nay, but, Beatrice,-- BEATRICE Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. BENEDICK Beat-- BEATRICE Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour 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. BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. BENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero? BEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. BENEDICK Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell. [Exeunt]