Act II, Scene i:
A hall in Leonato's house.

[Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, and others.]

Leon. :

Was not Count John here at supper?

Ant. :

I saw him not.

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, uncle, 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 husband with a beard on his face: I had rather lie

inwoollen!

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 gentlewoman? 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 he that is less than a

man I am not for him: Therefore I will even take sixpence in

earnest of the bearward, 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 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.

Ant. :

Well, niece,[to Hero]I trust you will be ruled by your

father.

Beat. :

Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make courtesy, and say,

'Father, as it please you:' but yet for all that, cousin, let him

be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say,

'Father, as it please me.'

Leon. :

Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

Beat. :

Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would

it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant

dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?

No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I

hold it a sin to match in my kindred.

Leon. :

Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince do solicit

you in that kind, you know your answer.

Beat. :

The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed

in good time: if the prince be too important, tell him there is

measure in everything, 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 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.

Leon. :

Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

Beat. :

have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight.

Leon. :

The revellers are entering, brother. Make good room.

[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar; Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others, masked.]

D. Pedro.

Lady, will you walk about with your friend?

Hero. :

So you walk softly, and look sweetly and say nothing,

I am yours for the walk; and, especially, when I walk away.

D. Pedro.

With me in your company?

Hero. :

I may say so when I please.

D. Pedro.

And when please you to say so?

Hero. :

When I like your favour; for God defend the lute should be

like the case!

D. Pedro.

My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.

Hero. :

Why, then your visor should be thatch'd.

D. Pedro.

Speak low if you speak love.

[Takes her aside.]

Balth. :

Well, I would you did like me.

Marg. :

So would not I, for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities.

Balth. :

Which is one?

Marg. :

I say my prayers aloud.

Balth. :

I love you the better; the hearers may cry, Amen.

Marg. :

God match me with a good dancer!

Balth. :

Amen.

Marg. :

And God keep him out of my sight, when the dance is done!

—Answer, clerk.

Balth. :

No more words; the clerk is answered.

Urs. :

I know you well enough. You are signior Antonio.

Ant. :

At a word, I am not.

Urs. :

I know you by the waggling of your head.

Ant. :

To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

Urs. :

You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were the very

man. Here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he.

Ant. :

At a word, I am not.

Urs. :

Come, come; do you think I do not know you by your excellent

wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he: graces

will appear, and there's an end.

Beat. :

Will you not tell me who told you so?

Bene. :

No, you shall pardon me.

Beat. :

Nor will you not tell me who you are?

Bene. :

Not now.

Beat. :

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.

Bene. :

What's he?

Beat. :

I am sure you know him well enough.

Bene. :

Not I, believe me.

Beat. :

Did he never make you laugh?

Bene. :

I pray you, what is he?

Beat. :

Why, he is the Prince's jester: a very dull fool; 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 pleaseth men and angers them, and then

they laugh at him and beat him: I am sure he is in the fleet;

I would he had boarded me.

Bene. :

When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say.

Beat. :

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 partridge' wing saved, for the

fool will eat no supper that night.[Music within.]We must

follow the leaders.

Bene. :

In every good thing.

Beat. :

Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next

turning.

[Dance. Then exeunt all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio] .

D. 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.

Bora. :

And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing.

D. John.

Are you not signior Benedick?

Claud. :

You know me well; I am he.

D. John.

Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is

enamour'd on Hero; I pray you dissuade him from her, she is no

equal for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it.

Claud. :

How know you he loves her?

D. John.

I heard him swear his affection.

Bora. :

So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night.

D. John.

Come, let us to the banquet.

[Exeunt Don John and Borachio.]

Claud. :

Thus answer I in name of Benedick,

But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.

'T is certain so;—the prince woos for himself.

Friendship is constant in all other things,

Save in the office and affairs of love:

Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;

Let every eye negociate 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

Which I mistrusted not: Farewell, therefore, Hero!

[Re-enter Benedick.]

Bene. :

Count Claudio?

Claud. :

Yea, the same.

Bene. :

Come, will you go with me?

Claud. :

Whither?

Bene. :

Even to the next willow, about your own business, count. 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.

Claud. :

I wish him joy of her.

Bene. :

Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so they sell

bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you

thus?

Claud. :

I pray you, leave me.

Bene. :

Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 't was the boy that

stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.

Claud. :

If it will not be, I'll leave you.

[Exit.]

Bene. :

Alas! poor hurt fowl! Now will he creep into sedges. But

that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not 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 out. Well,

I'll be revenged as I may.

[Re-enter Don Pedro.]

D. Pedro.

Now, signior, where's the count; Did you see him?

Bene. :

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, that your grace had got the 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

a rod, as being worthy to be whipped.

D. Pedro.

To be whipped! What's his fault?

Bene. :

The flat transgression of a schoolboy; who, being overjoy'd with

finding a bird's nest shows it his companion, and he steals it.

D. Pedro.

Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? the transgression is

in the stealer.

Bene. :

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 bird's nest.

D. Pedro.

I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.

Bene. :

If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say

honestly.

D. Pedro.

The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman that

danced with her told her she is much wrong'd by you.

Bene. :

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 myself, that I was the prince's jester, and

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: 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 had left him before he transgressed: she would have made

Hercules have 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 sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose

because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror,

and perturbation follows her.

[Re-enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato, and Hero.]

D. Pedro.

Look, here she comes.

Bene. :

Will your grace command me any service to the 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 toothpicker now from

the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's

foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any

embassage to the Pygmies,—rather than hold three words'

conference with this harpy: You have no employment for me?

D. Pedro.

None, but to desire your good company.

Bene. :

O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my Lady

Tongue.

[Exit.]

D. Pedro.

Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of signior Benedick.

Beat. :

Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I gave him use for

it—a double heart for a single one: marry, once before he won

it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I

have lost it.

D. Pedro.

You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.

Beat. :

So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove

the mother of fools. I have brought count Claudio, whom you sent

me to seek.

D. Pedro.

Why, how now, count? wherefore are you sad?

Claud. :

Not sad, my lord.

D. Pedro.

How then? sick?

Claud. :

Neither, my lord.

Beat. :

The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well: but

civil, count; civil as an orange, and something of that jealous

complexion.

D. Pedro.

I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll

be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is 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!

Leon. :

Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes; his

grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it!

Beat. :

Speak, Count, 'tis your cue.

Claud. :

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little

happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am

yours: I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange.

Beat. :

Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss,

and let not him speak neither.

D. Pedro.

In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat. :

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.

Claud. :

And so she doth, cousin.

Beat. :

Good Lord, for alliance!—Thus goes every one to the world but

I, and I am sunburned; I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh-ho

for a husband!

D. Pedro.

Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beat. :

I would rather have one of your father's getting: Hath your

grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent

husbands, if a maid could come by them.

D. Pedro.

Will you have me, lady?

Beat. :

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 was born to speak all mirth, and no matter.

D. Pedro.

Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes

you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.

Beat. :

No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star

danced, and under that was I born.—Cousins, God give you joy!

Leon. :

Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?

Beat. :

I cry you mercy, uncle.—By your grace's pardon.

[Exit Beatrice.]

D. Pedro.

By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.

Leon. :

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 dreamt of unhappiness,

and waked herself with laughing.

D. Pedro.

She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.

Leon. :

O, by no means; she mocks all her wooers out of suit.

D. Pedro.

She were an excellent wife for Benedick.

Leon. :

O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married they would

talk themselves mad.

D. Pedro.

Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?

Claud. :

To-morrow, my lord: Time goes on crutches till love have all

his rites.

Leon. :

Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night;

and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind.

D. Pedro.

Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing;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 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.

Leon. :

My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights'

watchings.

Claud. :

And I, my lord.

D. Pedro.

And you too, gentle Hero?

Hero. :

I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a

good husband.

D. 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 confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour

your cousin, that she 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 ours, for we are the only love-gods.

Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift.

[Exeunt.]