Bene. O, stay but till then! Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now!-and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul words;and thereupon I will kiss thee. Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit: but I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? Beat. For them altogether; which maintained so good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? Bene. Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. Dogb. Ileave an arrant knave with your worship; which, I beseech your worship, to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship; I wish your worship well; God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it!- Come, neigh-politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any bour. [Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, andWatch. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell! Ant.Farewell, myl y lords; we look for you to-morrow. D. Pedro. We will not fail. SCENE II.-Leonato's garden. Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting. Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservestit. Marg To have no man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth: I mean, in singing; but in loving, -Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self, in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; Ihave tried; I can find out ho rhyme to lady but baby, an innocent rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; for school, fool, a babbling rhyme: very ominous endings! No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. Enter BEATRICE. SweetBeatrice, would'st thou, come when I called thee? I Beat.In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for will never love that which my friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confession: there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours: if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb, ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument,than the bell rings,and the widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question?-Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum! Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, (if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, (who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy,) and now tell me, How doth your cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Bene. Serve God, love me,and mend: there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. and Enter URSULA. Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home: it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the Prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled : will you come presently? Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt. gone: SCENE III.-The inside of a church. Done to death by slanderous tongues Gives her fame, which never dies: [Affixing it. Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn! SONG. Pardon, Goddess of the night, Graves, yawn, and yield your dead, Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your torches out! The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey! Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well! Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way. D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier issue speed's, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-A room in Leonato's house. Enter LEONATO, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, URSULA, Friar, and HERO. Friar. Did I not tell you, she was innocent? That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. 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. I Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar ; am your husband, if you like of me. Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife : And when you loved, you were my other husband. One Hero died defil'd; but I do live, D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead! Leon.So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. Upon the error that you heard debated: Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, signior? Bene. To bind me, or undo: me, one of them. Here comes the prince, and Claudio. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; When, after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: Mean time, let wonder seem familiar, And to the chapel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that name; [Unmasking.] what is your will? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. No, no more than reason. Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio, Have been deceived; for they swore you did. Bene. No, no more than reason. Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear, you did. Bene. They swore, that you were almost sick for me. Beat. They swore, that you were well nigh dead for me. Bene.'Tis no such matter. -Then, you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentle man. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. Hero. And here's another, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen 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. [Kissing her. D.Pedro. How dost thou,Benedick,the married man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of witcrackers 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, he shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to | dance, ere we are married, that we may lighten our own marry, I will think nothing to any purpose, that the hearts, and our wives' heels! world can say against it; and therefore never flout at Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play, music!thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Clau-Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife! dio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou there is no staff more reverend, than one tipped with art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my horn. cousin! Claud. 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 double dealer; 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 al 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. SCENE I.—Athens. A room in the palace of Theseus. ants. The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Four nights will quickly dream away the time; New bent in heaven, shall behold the night The. Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, Lysander, and DEMETRIUS. thee? Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint [Exit Philostrate. Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; Immediately provided in that case. One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one By him imprinted, and within his power The. In himself he is: But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, Her. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes. In such a presence here to plead my thoughts: The. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty. For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself I must employ you in some bussiness [Exeunt Thes. Hip. Ege. Dem. and train. Lys. How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike, for want of rain; which I could well Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low! So quick bright things come to confusion. Then let us teach our trial patience, As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, The. Take time to pause: and, by the next new moon, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers. Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would; Or on Diana's altar to protest, Foraye, austerity and single life. Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me,Hermia! Of great revenue, and she hath no child: From Athens is her house remote seven leagues; And she respects me as her only son. There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia!-And, Lysander, yield Cannot pursue us: if thou lov'st me then, Thy crazed title to my certain right! Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love; I do estate unto Demetrius. Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, Upon this spotted and inconstant man. The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, My mind did lose it.-But, Demetrius, come; I have some private schooling for you both. Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; Her. My good Lysander! I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow, By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves, Lys. Keep promise, love! Look, here comes Helena. Enter HELENA. Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away? Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air Sickness is catching; O, were favour so! Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. mine! Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my face; O then, what graces in my love do dwell, Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: Lys. I will, my Hermia.-Helena, adieu: And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, Things base and vile, holding no quantity, To have his sight thither, and back again. [Exit. SCENE II.-The same. Aroom in a cottage. Enter SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, QUINCE, and STARVELING. Quin. Is all our company here? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess,on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. Quin. Marry, our play is-The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.-Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll!-Masters, spread yourselves! Quin. Answer as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the weaver. Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure. To the rest:-yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. "The raging rocks, "With shivering shocks, "Shall break the locks "Of prison-gates: "And Phibbus' car "Shall shine from far, "And make and mar This was lofty!-Now name the rest of the players!— This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. Quin. You must take Thisby on you. Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small, as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too; I'll speak in a monstrous little voice;- Thisne, Thisne,-Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear! Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed! Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Star. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.-Tom Snout, the tinker. Snout. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father;-Snug, the joiner, you the lion's part:- and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar again, Let him roar again! Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough too hang us all. |