I do embrace your offer; and dispose Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming; Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; And knows me, and knows me, 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 Dogb. Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not un- so truly turned over and over as my poor self, in der white and black,) this plaintiff here, the offen-love: Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have der, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be re-tried; I can find out no rhyme to lady but baby, an membered in his punishment: and also, the watch innocent rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; heard them talk of one Deformed: they say, he for school, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; endings: No, I was not born under a rhyming and borrows money in God's name; the which he planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. hath used so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I called sake: pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy pains. Dogb. God save the foundation! Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. thee? Enter Beatrice. Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon, I will Dogb. I leave an arrant knave with your wor-kiss thee. ship; which, I beseech your worship, to correct Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind yourself, for the example of others. God keep your is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; worship; I wish your worship well; God restore therefore I will depart unkissed. you to health: I humbly give you leave to depart; Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohi-right sense, so forcible is thy wit: But, I must tell bit it.-Come, neighbour. [Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch. and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, Ant. Farewell, my lords; we look for you to- tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? morrow. D. Pedro. We will not fail. To-night I'll mourn with Hero. [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio. Leon. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd' fellow. 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 deservest it. 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, it catches. Marg. And your's as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. Beat. For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit which of my good parts did you first suffer love any good part to intermingle with them. But for for me? Bene. Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. 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 I 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 expe Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not dient for the wise (if Don Worm, his conscience, hurt a woman; and so I pray thee, call Beatrice: find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the I give thee the bucklers. trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself: So Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of much for praising myself (who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy,) and now tell me, How doth your cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there (3) Is subject to. will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. 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 and gone will you come presently? Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. 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. Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.SCENE III.-The inside of a church. Enter Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Don Pedro, Claudio, and attendants with music Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. and tapers. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'Tis most truc. Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: Here comes the prince, and Claudio. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with attendants. We here attend you; are you yet determin'd ready. That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull:- When he would play the noble beast in love. Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; COW, And got a calf in that same noble feat, Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies mask'd. 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. 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 ; And when you loved, you were my other husband. D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my concluLeon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander sion.-For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have liv'd. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; Bene. Soft and fair, friar.-Which is Beatrice? What is your will? Have been deceived; for they swore you did, Bene. Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. 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 gentleman. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves For here's a paper, written in his hand, Hero. beaten thee; but in that' thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my 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 a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. Bene. First, o' 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. 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. This play may be justly said to contain two of the most sprightly characters that Shakspeare ever drew. The wit, the humourist, the gentleman, and the soldier, are combined in Benedick. It is to be lamented, indeed, that the first and most splendid of these distinctions, is disgraced by unneces sary profaneness; for the goodness of his heart is hardly sufficient to atone for the license of his tongue. The too sarcastic levity, which flashes out Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against in the conversation of Beatrice, may be excused our hearts!-Come, I will have thee; but, by this on account of the steadiness and friendship so aplight, I take thee for pity. parent in her behaviour, when she urges her lover Beat. I would not deny you ;-but, by this good to risk his life by a challenge to Claudio. In the day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to conduct of the fable, however, there is an impersave your life, for I was told you were in a consump-fection similar to that which Dr. Johnson has point And here's another, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. tion. ed out in The Merry Wives of Windsor-the Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.second contrivance is less ingenious than the first:--[Kissing her. or, to speak more plainly, the same incident is beD. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married come stale by repetition." I wish some other method man? had been found to entrap Beatrice, than that very Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-one which before had been successfully practised on crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost Benedick. thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram; No: Much Ado About Nothing (as I understand if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear from one of Mr. Vertue's MSS.) formerly passed nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do under the title of Benedick and Beatrix. Heming propose to marry, I will think nothing to any pur- the player received, on the 20th of May, 1613, the pose that the world can say against it; and there- sum of forty pounds, and twenty pounds more as Lore never flout at me for what I have said against his majesty's gratuity, for exhibiting six plays at Hampton Court, among which was this comedy. STEEVENS (1) Because. And interchang'd love-tokens with my child : Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, of With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; And stol'n the impression of her fantasy SCENE I-Athens. A room in the palace Theseus. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, and attendants. Theseus. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Four nights will quickly dream away the time; The. up in Go, Philostrate, Stir the Athenian youth to merriments; Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth; Turn melancholy forth to funerals, The pale companion is not for our pomp.[Exit Philostrate. Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love, doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph,' and with revelling. Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius. Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! The. Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee? Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia.Stand forth, Demetrius; My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her:Stand forth, Lysander;-and, my gracious duke, This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child: Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, (1) Shows. With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid: The. In himself he is: But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier. Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes. The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment I look. Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. know not by what power I am made bold; Nor how it may concern my modesty, In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts: But I beseech your grace that I may know The worst that may befal me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius. The. Either to die the death, or to abjure For ever the society of men. Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, (2) Baubles. |