ACT II
SCENE I | A hall in LEONATO'S house. |
| Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others |
LEONATO | Was not Count John here at supper? |
ANTONIO | I saw him not. |
BEATRICE | How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see |
| him but I am heart-burned an hour after. | 5 |
HERO | He is of a very melancholy disposition. |
BEATRICE | He were an excellent man that were made just in the |
| midway 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. | 10 |
LEONATO | Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's |
| mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior |
| Benedick's face,-- |
BEATRICE | With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money |
| enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman | 15 |
| in the world, if a' could get her good-will. |
LEONATO | By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a |
| husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. |
ANTONIO | In faith, she's too curst. |
BEATRICE | Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God's | 20 |
| sending that way; for it is said, 'God sends a curst |
| cow short horns;' but to a cow too curst he sends none. |
LEONATO | So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. |
BEATRICE | Just, if he send me no husband; for the which |
| blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and | 25 |
| evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a |
| beard on his face: I had rather lie in the woollen. |
LEONATO | You may light on a husband that hath no beard. |
BEATRICE | What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel |
| and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a | 30 |
| 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 he that is less than a |
| man, I am not for him: therefore, I will even take |
| sixpence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead his | 35 |
| apes into hell. |
LEONATO | Well, then, go you into hell? |
BEATRICE | 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 | 40 |
| heaven; here's no place for you maids:' so deliver |
| I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the |
| heavens; he shows me where the bachelors sit, and |
| there live we as merry as the day is long. |
ANTONIO | To HERO |
| by your father. | 45 |
BEATRICE | Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy |
| and say 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all |
| that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else |
| make another curtsy and say 'Father, as it please |
| me.' | 50 |
LEONATO | Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. |
BEATRICE | Not till God make men of some other metal than |
| earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be |
| overmastered with a pierce of valiant dust? to make |
| an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? | 55 |
| No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren; |
| and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. |
LEONATO | Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince |
| do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer. |
BEATRICE | The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be | 60 |
| not wooed in good time: if the prince be too |
| important, tell him there is measure in every thing |
| and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, Hero: |
| wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, |
| a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot | 65 |
| and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as |
| fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a |
| measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes |
| repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the |
| cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. | 70 |
LEONATO | Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. |
BEATRICE | I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. |
LEONATO | The revellers are entering, brother: make good room. |
| All put on their masks |
| Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHASAR,
DON JOHN, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA and others, masked |
DON PEDRO | Lady, will you walk about with your friend? |
HERO | So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing, | 75 |
| I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away. |
DON PEDRO | With me in your company? |
HERO | I may say so, when I please. |
DON PEDRO | And when please you to say so? |
HERO | When I like your favour; for God defend the lute | 80 |
| should be like the case! |
DON PEDRO | My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. |
HERO | Why, then, your visor should be thatched. |
DON PEDRO | Speak low, if you speak love. |
| Drawing her aside |
BALTHASAR | Well, I would you did like me. | 85 |
MARGARET | So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many |
| ill-qualities. |
BALTHASAR | Which is one? |
MARGARET | I say my prayers aloud. |
BALTHASAR | I love you the better: the hearers may cry, Amen. | 90 |
MARGARET | God match me with a good dancer! |
BALTHASAR | Amen. |
MARGARET | And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is |
| done! Answer, clerk. |
BALTHASAR | No more words: the clerk is answered. | 95 |
URSULA | I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio. |
ANTONIO | At a word, I am not. |
URSULA | I know you by the waggling of your head. |
ANTONIO | To tell you true, I counterfeit him. |
URSULA | You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were | 100 |
| the very man. Here's his dry hand up and down: you |
| are he, you are he. |
ANTONIO | At a word, I am not. |
URSULA | Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your |
| excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, | 105 |
| mum, you are he: graces will appear, and there's an |
| end. |
BEATRICE | Will you not tell me who told you so? |
BENEDICK | No, you shall pardon me. |
BEATRICE | Nor will you not tell me who you are? | 110 |
BENEDICK | Not now. |
BEATRICE | That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit |
| out of the 'Hundred Merry Tales:'--well this was |
| Signior Benedick that said so. |
BENEDICK | What's he? | 115 |
BEATRICE | I am sure you know him well enough. |
BENEDICK | Not I, believe me. |
BEATRICE | Did he never make you laugh? |
BENEDICK | I pray you, what is he? |
BEATRICE | Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool; | 120 |
| only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: |
| none but libertines delight in him; and the |
| commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; |
| for he both pleases men and angers them, and then |
| they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in | 125 |
| the fleet: I would he had boarded me. |
BENEDICK | When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. |
BEATRICE | Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or two on me; |
| which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at, |
| strikes him into melancholy; and then there's a | 130 |
| partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no |
| supper that night. |
| Music |
| We must follow the leaders. |
BENEDICK | In every good thing. |
BEATRICE | Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at | 135 |
| the next turning. |
| Dance. Then exeunt all except DON JOHN, BORACHIO,
and CLAUDIO |
DON JOHN | Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath |
| withdrawn her father to break with him about it. |
| The ladies follow her and but one visor remains. |
BORACHIO | And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing. | 140 |
DON JOHN | Are not you Signior Benedick? |
CLAUDIO | You know me well; I am he. |
DON JOHN | Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: |
| he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him |
| from her: she is no equal for his birth: you may | 145 |
| do the part of an honest man in it. |
CLAUDIO | How know you he loves her? |
DON JOHN | I heard him swear his affection. |
BORACHIO | So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night. |
DON JOHN | Come, let us to the banquet. | 150 |
| Exeunt DON JOHN and BORACHIO |
CLAUDIO | Thus answer I in the name of Benedick, |
| But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. |
| 'Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself. |
| Friendship is constant in all other things |
| Save in the office and affairs of love: | 155 |
| Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; |
| Let every eye negotiate for itself |
| And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch |
| Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. |
| This is an accident of hourly proof, | 160 |
| Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero! |
| Re-enter BENEDICK |
BENEDICK | Count Claudio? |
CLAUDIO | Yea, the same. |
BENEDICK | Come, will you go with me? |
CLAUDIO | Whither? | 165 |
BENEDICK | Even to the next willow, about your own business, |
| county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? |
| about your neck, like an usurer's chain? or under |
| your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear |
| it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. | 170 |
CLAUDIO | I wish him joy of her. |
BENEDICK | Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier: so they |
| sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would |
| have served you thus? |
CLAUDIO | I pray you, leave me. | 175 |
BENEDICK | Ho! now you strike like the blind man: 'twas the |
| boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. |
CLAUDIO | If it will not be, I'll leave you. |
| Exit |
BENEDICK | Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. |
| But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not | 180 |
| know me! The prince's fool! Ha? It may be I go |
| under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I |
| am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it |
| is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice |
| that puts the world into her person and so gives me | 185 |
| out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may. |
| Re-enter DON PEDRO |
DON PEDRO | Now, signior, where's the count? did you see him? |
BENEDICK | Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. |
| I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a |
| warren: I told him, and I think I told him true, | 190 |
| that your grace had got the good will of this young |
| lady; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree, |
| either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or |
| to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. |
DON PEDRO | To be whipped! What's his fault? | 195 |
BENEDICK | The flat transgression of a schoolboy, who, being |
| overjoyed with finding a birds' nest, shows it his |
| companion, and he steals it. |
DON PEDRO | Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The |
| transgression is in the stealer. | 200 |
BENEDICK | Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, |
| and the garland too; for the garland he might have |
| worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on |
| you, who, as I take it, have stolen his birds' nest. |
DON PEDRO | I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to | 205 |
| the owner. |
BENEDICK | If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, |
| you say honestly. |
DON PEDRO | The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you: the |
| gentleman that danced with her told her she is much | 210 |
| wronged by you. |
BENEDICK | O, she misused me past the endurance of a block! |
| an oak but with one green leaf on it would have |
| answered her; my very visor began to assume life and |
| scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been | 215 |
| myself, that I was the prince's jester, that I was |
| duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest |
| with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood |
| like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at |
| me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: | 220 |
| if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, |
| there were no living near her; she would infect to |
| the north star. I would not marry her, though she |
| were endowed with all that Adam bad left him before |
| he transgressed: she would have made Hercules have | 225 |
| turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make |
| the fire too. Come, talk not of her: you shall find |
| her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God |
| some scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while |
| she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a | 230 |
| sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they |
| would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror |
| and perturbation follows her. |
DON PEDRO | Look, here she comes. |
| Enter CLAUDIO, BEATRICE, HERO, and LEONATO |
BENEDICK | Will your grace command me any service to the | 235 |
| world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now |
| to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; |
| I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the |
| furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of |
| Prester John's foot, fetch you a hair off the great | 240 |
| Cham's beard, do you any embassage to the Pigmies, |
| rather than hold three words' conference with this |
| harpy. You have no employment for me? |
DON PEDRO | None, but to desire your good company. |
BENEDICK | O God, sir, here's a dish I love not: I cannot | 245 |
| endure my Lady Tongue. |
| Exit |
DON PEDRO | Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of |
| Signior Benedick. |
BEATRICE | Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave |
| him use for it, a double heart for his single one: | 250 |
| marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, |
| therefore your grace may well say I have lost it. |
DON PEDRO | You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. |
BEATRICE | So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I |
| should prove the mother of fools. I have brought | 255 |
| Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. |
DON PEDRO | Why, how now, count! wherefore are you sad? |
CLAUDIO | Not sad, my lord. |
DON PEDRO | How then? sick? |
CLAUDIO | Neither, my lord. | 260 |
BEATRICE | The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor |
| well; but civil count, civil as an orange, and |
| something of that jealous complexion. |
DON PEDRO | I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; |
| though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is | 265 |
| false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and |
| fair Hero is won: I have broke with her father, |
| and his good will obtained: name the day of |
| marriage, and God give thee joy! |
LEONATO | Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my | 270 |
| fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and an |
| grace say Amen to it. |
BEATRICE | Speak, count, 'tis your cue. |
CLAUDIO | Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were |
| but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as | 275 |
| you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for |
| you and dote upon the exchange. |
BEATRICE | Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth |
| with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. |
DON PEDRO | In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. | 280 |
BEATRICE | Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on |
| the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his |
| ear that he is in her heart. |
CLAUDIO | And so she doth, cousin. |
BEATRICE | Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the | 285 |
| world but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a |
| corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband! |
DON PEDRO | Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. |
BEATRICE | I would rather have one of your father's getting. |
| Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your | 290 |
| father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. |
DON PEDRO | Will you have me, lady? |
BEATRICE | No, my lord, unless I might have another for |
| working-days: your grace is too costly to wear |
| every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I | 295 |
| was born to speak all mirth and no matter. |
DON PEDRO | Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best |
| becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in |
| a merry hour. |
BEATRICE | No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there | 300 |
| was a star danced, and under that was I born. |
| Cousins, God give you joy! |
LEONATO | Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? |
BEATRICE | I cry you mercy, uncle. By your grace's pardon. |
| Exit |
DON PEDRO | By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. | 305 |
LEONATO | There's little of the melancholy element in her, my |
| lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps, and |
| not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, |
| she hath often dreamed of unhappiness and waked |
| herself with laughing. | 310 |
DON PEDRO | She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. |
LEONATO | O, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out of suit. |
DON PEDRO | She were an excellent wife for Benedict. |
LEONATO | O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, |
| they would talk themselves mad. | 315 |
DON PEDRO | County Claudio, when mean you to go to church? |
CLAUDIO | To-morrow, my lord: time goes on crutches till love |
| have all his rites. |
LEONATO | Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just |
| seven-night; and a time too brief, too, to have all | 320 |
| things answer my mind. |
DON PEDRO | Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing: |
| but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go |
| dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of |
| Hercules' labours; which is, to bring Signior | 325 |
| Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of |
| affection the one with the other. I would fain have |
| it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if |
| you three will but minister such assistance as I |
| shall give you direction. | 330 |
LEONATO | My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten |
| nights' watchings. |
CLAUDIO | And I, my lord. |
DON PEDRO | And you too, gentle Hero? |
HERO | I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my | 335 |
| cousin to a good husband. |
DON PEDRO | And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that |
| I know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble |
| strain, of approved valour and confirmed honesty. I |
| will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she | 340 |
| shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your |
| two helps, will so practise on Benedick that, in |
| despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he |
| shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, |
| Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory shall be | 345 |
| ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, |
| and I will tell you my drift. |
| Exeunt |