Hym. Peace ho! I bar confusion, Of these most strange events: [To ORLANDO and ROSALIND. You and you are heart in heart: [To OLIVER and CELIA. You [To PHEBE] to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord :You and you are sure together, According to the measure of their states. and bride With measure heap'd in joy to the measures fall. Jaq. Sir, by your patience; If I heard you rightly, The duke hath put on a religious life, And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Jaq. To him will I; out of these convertites [To TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY. There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.You to your former honour I bequeath; As the winter to foul weather. How thus we met, and these things finish. I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, [To DUKE S. Your patience, and your virtue well deserves it: You [To ORLANDO] to a love, that your true faith doth merit : You [To OLIVER] to your land, and love, and great allies: You [To SILVIUS] to a long and well deserved bed; And you [To TOUCHSTONE] to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victual'd:-So to your Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the That bring these tidings to this fair assembly:-epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day Duke. S. Welcome, young man ; • Unless truth fails of veracity. + Bind to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become ine my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please them and so I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that between you and the women, the play may please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me,t and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make [Exeunt. curt'sy, bid me farewell. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. IN the fifth book of Orlands Furioso, and in B. II. c. iv. of Spenser's Fairie Queene, a story partly similar to the fable of this drama may be found; but a novel in the Histoires Tragiques of Belleforest (taken from Bandello) approaches nearest to the design, aud probably suggested the idea, of Much ado about Ne thing. The plot is pleasingly intricate; the characters novel and striking; the dialogue exceedingly wive cious, and well supported to the end. Beatrice and Benedick are two of the most sprightly and amusing characters that Shakspeare ever drew. Wit, humour, nobility, and courage, are combined in the artez though his sallies are not always restrained by reverence or discretion: and if the levity of the forme is somewhat opposed to the becoming reserve and delicacy of the female character, it shows to man advantage the steadiness of her friendship, and the amiable decision of her character, when urging ber lover to challenge his most intimate friend; and as the best claim upon her affection, to risk ha life in vindicating the purity of her injured companion ACT I. SCENE 1.-Before LEONATO's House. Enter LEONATO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others, with a MESSENGER. Leon. I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action ? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don Pedro bath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, called Claudio. Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro : He hath borne himself beyond the pronrise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion he hath, indeed, better bettered expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. • Kind Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina wil be very much glad of it. Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into tears ? Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: There are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy_at weeping? Beat. I pray you, is signior Montante returned from the wars, or no? Mess. I know none of that name, lady; there was none such in the army of any sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of Padua. Mess. Oh he is returned; and as pleasant as ever be was. Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and challenged Cupid at the fight and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the birdbolt.-I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? for indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing. Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet* with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it: he is a very valiant trencherman, he hath an excellent stomach. Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady;-But what is he to a lord? Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honourable virtues. Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man† but for the stuffing,-Well, we are all mortal. Leon. You must not, Sir, mistake my niece: there is a kind of merry war betwixt siguior Benedick and her they never meet, but there is a skirmish of wit between them. Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on ber shoulders, for all Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder, that you will still be talking, signior Benedick; nobody marks you. Bene. What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? Beat. Is it possible, disdain should die, while she hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence. Bene. Then is courtesy a turn-coat :-But it is certain, I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none. Beat. A dear happiness to women; they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God, and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me. Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as your's were. Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference be-beast of your's. tween himself and his horse: for it is all the Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your wealth that he hath left, to be known a reason-tongue; and so good a continuer But keep your able creature.-Who is his companion now? He way o' God's name; I have done. bath every month a new sworn brother. Mess. Is it possible? Beat. Very easily possible: he wears his faith but of the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block. Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. Beat. No: an be were, I would burn my study. But, I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil. Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. God Beat. O Lord! he will hang upon him like a disease he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere be be cured. Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady. Beat. Do, good friend. Leon. You will never run mad, niece. Beat. You always end with a jade's trick; I know you of old. D. Pedro. This is the sum of all: Leonato,siguior Claudio, and signior Benedick,-my dear friend Leonato, hath invited you all. I tell him, we shall stay here at least a month; and he heartily prays, some occasion may detain us longer: I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn.-Let me bid you welcome, my lord: being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you all duty. D. John. I thank you: I am not of many words, but I thank you. Leon. Please it your grace lead on? D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato; we will go together. [Exeunt all but BENEDICK and CLAUDIO. Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daugù. ter of siguior Leonato ? Bene. I noted her not; but I looked on her. Enter Don PEDRO, attended by BALTHAZAR DICK. Claud. No, I pray thee, speak in sober judg. ment. Bene. Why, i'faith, methinks she is too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her; that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like ber. Claud. Thou thinkest, I am in sport; I pray thee, tell me truly how thou likest her. Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her. But Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack; to tell us Cupid is a good bare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take you, to go in the song? Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that ever 1 looked on. Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds ber as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope, you have no intent to turn busband; have you? Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. Claud. If this should ever happen, then would'st be born-mad D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. Bene. Is it come to this, i'faith? Hath not Bene. I look for an earthquake too then. the world one man, but he will wear his cap with D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of three-hours. In the mean time, good signor Benescore again? Go to, i'faith; au thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is returned to seek you Re-enter Don PEDRO. D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonato's ? Bene. I would your grace would constrain me to tell. D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. Bene. You hear, count Claudio: I can be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on my allegiance,-mark you this, on my allegiance :-He is in love. With who?now that is your grace's part.-Mark, how short his answer is:-With Hero, Leonato's short daughter. Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: it is not so, nor 'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so. Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy. Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my Jord, I spoke mine. Claud. That I love her, I feel. D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me; I will die in it at the stake. D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. Claud. And never could maintain his part, but in the force of his will. Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks: but that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, or bang my bugle+ in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the which I may go the finer,) I will live a bachelor. D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with love: prove, that ever I lose more blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a balladmaker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house, for the sign of blind Cupid. D. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. Bene. If I do, bang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder, and called Adam. § D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try: In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. dick, repair to Leonato's; commend me to bim, and tell him, I will not fail him at supper ; fär, indeed, he hath made great preparation. Bene, I have almost matter enough to me for such an embassage; and so I commit you— Claud. To the tuition of God: From my house, (if I had it,)— D. Pedro. The sixth of July: Your loving friend, Benedick. Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not: The body of your discourse is sometimes guarded * with fragments, and the guards are but slightly based on neither: ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience; and so I leave you. [Erit BENEDICK. Claud. My liege, your highness now may do me good. D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach; teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Dost thou affect her, Claudio? When you went onward on this ended action, D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presenty Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love, That know love's grief by his complexion! But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. D. Pedro, What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity: Look, what will serve, is fit: 'tis once, thou lov'st; And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know, we shall have revelling to-night; SCENE II-A Room in LEONATO's Houst. Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO. Leon. How now, brother? Where is my consin, your son? Hath he provided this music? Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamed not of. Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns, and set them in my forehead: and let me be vilely painted; and in such great letters as they write, Here is good horse to hire, let them signify under my sign,-Here you may see Bene-a dick the married man. The tune sounded to call off the dogs. Hunting-horn. : Girdle. The name of a famous archer. Leon. Are they good? Ant. As the event stamps them; but they have good cover, they show well outward. The prince and count Claudio, walking in a thickpleached alley in my orchard, were thus mach • Trimmed. + Once for all. : Thickly-interwerzü overheard by a man of mine: The prince discovered to Claudio, that he loved my niece your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and, if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it. Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this ? Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him, and question him yourself. Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a dream, till it appears itself:-but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you, and tell her of it. [Several persons cross the stage.] Cousins, you know what you have to do.-Oh! I cry you mercy, friend; you go with me, and I will use your skill: Good cousins have a care this busy time. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Another Room in LEONATO'S House. Enter Don JOHN and CONRADE. Con. What the goujere, my lord! why are you thus out of measure sad? D. John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit. Con. You should hear reason. D. John. And when I have heard it, what blessing bringeth it? Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. D. John. I wonder, that thou, being (as thou say'st thou art) born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend to no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, till you may do it without control ment. You have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace; where it is impossible you should take true root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. D. John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any in this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied that I am a plain dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog; therefore 1 have decreed not to sing in my cage: If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my Jiking in the mean time, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. Con. Can you make no use of your discontent? D. John. I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? What news Borachio? Enter BORACHIO. Bora. I came yonder from a great supper; the prince, your brother, is royally entertained by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. D. John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietness? Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. D. John. A proper squire' And who, who? which way locks he? and Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. D. John. A very forward March chick! How came you to this? Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference : I whipt me behind the arras; and there heard it agreed upon, that the prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give her to count Claudio. D. John. Come, come, let us thither; this may prove food to my displeasure that young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way: You are both sure, and will assist me? Con. To the death, my lord. D. John. Let us to the great supper; their cheer is the greater that I am subdued: 'Would the cook were of my mind!-Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. ACT II [Exeunt. SCENE I-A Hall in LEONATO's House. Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others. Leon. Was not count John here at supper? Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him, but I am heart-burned an hour after. Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedick: the one is too like an image, and says nothing; and the other, too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling. Leon. Then half signior Benedick's tongue in count John's mouth, and half count John's melancholy in signior Benedick's face, Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, unele, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world,-if he could get her good will. Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. Ant. In faith she is too curst. Beat. Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God's sending that way for it is said, God sends a curst cow short horns; but to a cow too curst he sends none. Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing, I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening: Lord! I could not endure a busband with a beard on his face; I had rather lie in the woollen. Leon. You may light upon a husband, that hath no beard. Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting gentle. woman? He that hath a beard, is more than a youth; and he that hath no beard is less than a man: and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and be that is less than a man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell Leon. Well then, go you into hell? Beat. No; but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say, Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here's no place for you maids: so deliver up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the beavens; he shows me • Serious. |