READ STUDY GUIDE: Act II, scenes ii–iii |
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Act II, Scene iii:
Leonato's Garden.
Leonato's Garden.
| [Enter Benedick and a Boy.] |
| Bene. : |
| Boy! |
| Boy. : |
| Signior. |
| Bene. : |
| In my chamber-window lies a book; bring it hither to me in |
| the orchard. |
| Boy. : |
| I am here already, sir. |
| Bene. : |
| I know that;—but I would have thee hence, and here again. |
| [Exit Boy.] —I do much wonder that one man seeing how much |
| another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, |
| will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, |
| become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love: And |
| such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with |
| him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor |
| and the pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile |
| afoot to see a good armour: and now will he lie ten nights awake, |
| carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, |
| and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is |
| he turned orthographer; his words are a very fantastical banquet, |
| just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with |
| these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn but |
| love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, |
| till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a |
| fool. One woman is fair; yet I am well: another is wise; yet I am |
| well: another virtuous; yet I am well: but till all graces be in |
| one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall |
| be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never |
| cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not |
| near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an |
| excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it |
| please God. Ha, the prince and monsieur Love! I will hide me in |
| the arbour. |
| [Withdraws.] |
| [Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio.] |
| D. Pedro. |
| Come, shall we hear this music? |
| Claud. : |
| Yea, my good lord:—How still the evening is, |
| As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! |
| D. Pedro. |
| See you where Benedick hath hid himself? |
| Claud. : |
| O, very well, my lord: the music ended, |
| We'll fit the kid fox with a pennyworth. |
| [Enter Balthazar, with music.] |
| D. Pedro. |
| Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. |
| Balth. : |
| O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice |
| To slander music any more than once. |
| D. Pedro. |
| It is the witness still of excellency, |
| To put a strange face on his own perfection:— |
| I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. |
| Balth. : |
| Because you talk of wooing, I will sing: |
| Since many a wooer doth commence his suit |
| To her he thinks not worthy; yet he woos; |
| Yet will he swear, he loves. |
| D. Pedro. |
| Nay, pray thee, come: |
| Or if thou wilt hold longer argument |
| Do it in notes. |
| Balth. : |
| Note this before my notes, |
| There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. |
| D. Pedro. |
| Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks; |
| Note, notes, forsooth, and noting! |
| [Music.] |
| Bene. : |
| Now, 'Divine air!' now is his soul ravished!—Is it not |
| strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? |
| —Well, a horn for my money, when all's done. |
| [Balthazar sings.] |
| I. : |
 Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more; |
| Men were deceivers ever; |
| One foot in sea, and one on shore; |
| To one thing constant never: |
| Then sigh not so, |
| But let them go, |
| And be you blithe and bonny; |
| Converting all your sounds of woe |
| Into, Hey nonny, nonny. |
| II. : |
| Sing no more ditties, sing no mo, |
| Of dumps so dull and heavy; |
| The fraud of men was ever so, |
| Since summer first was leavy. |
| Then sigh not so, &c. |
| D. Pedro. |
| By my troth, a good song. |
| Balth. : |
| And an ill singer, my lord. |
| D. Pedro. |
| Ha? no; no, faith; thou sing'st well enough for a shift. |
| Bene. : |
| [Aside.] An he had been a dog that should have howled thus |
| they would have hanged him: and I pray God, his bad voice bode no |
| mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what |
| plague could have come after it. |
| D. Pedro. |
| Yea, marry;[to Claudio.]—Dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray |
| thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would |
| have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window. |
| Balth. : |
| The best I can, my lord. |
| D. Pedro. |
| Do so: farewell.[Exeunt Balthazar.]Come hither, Leonato: What |
| was it you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in |
| love with signior Benedick? |
| Claud. : |
| O, ay:-Stalk on, stalk on: the fowl sits.[Aside to Pedro]I did |
| never think that lady would have loved any man. |
| Leon. : |
| No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote |
| on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours |
| seemed ever to abhor. |
| Bene. : |
| Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?[Aside.] |
| Leon. : |
| By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but |
| that she loves him with an enraged affection,—it is past the |
| infinite of thought. |
| D. Pedro. |
| May be, she doth but counterfeit. |
| Claud. : |
| 'Faith, like enough. |
| Leon. : |
| O God! counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion |
| came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it. |
| D. Pedro. |
| Why, what effects of passion shows she? |
| Claud. : |
| Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.[Aside.] |
| Leon. : |
| What effects, my lord! She will sit you,—You heard my |
| daughter tell you how. |
| Claud. : |
| She did, indeed. |
| D. Pedro. |
| How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her |
| spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. |
| Leon. : |
| I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against |
| Benedick. |
| Bene. : |
| [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded |
| fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such |
| reverence. |
| Claud. : |
| He hath ta'en the infection; Hold it up.[Aside.] |
| D. Pedro. |
| Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? |
| Leon. : |
| No; and swears she never will: that's her torment. |
| Claud. : |
| 'T is true, indeed; so your daughter says: 'Shall I,' says |
| she, 'that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him |
| that I love him?' |
| Leon. : |
| This says she now when she is beginning to write to him: for |
| she'll be up twenty times a night: and there will she sit in her |
| smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper:—my daughter tells us |
| all. |
| Claud. : |
| Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest |
| your daughter told us of. |
| Leon. : |
| O!—When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found |
| Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet? |
| Claud. : |
| That. |
| Leon. : |
| O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at |
| herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she |
| knew would flout her: 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own |
| spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I |
| love him, I should.' |
| Claud. : |
| Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her |
| heart, tears her hair, prays, curses: 'O sweet Benedick! God |
| give me patience!' |
| Leon. : |
| She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so |
| much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard she will |
| do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true. |
| D. Pedro. |
| It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she |
| will not discover it. |
| Claud. : |
| To what end? He would make but a sport of it, and torment the |
| poor lady worse. |
| D. Pedro. |
| An he should, it were an alms to hang him: She's an |
| excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. |
| Claud. : |
| And she is exceeding wise. |
| D. Pedro. |
| In everything, but in loving Benedick. |
| Leon. : |
| O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, |
| we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am |
| sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her |
| guardian. |
| D. Pedro. |
| I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have |
| daff'd all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you |
| tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. |
| Leon. : |
| Were it good, think you? |
| Claud. : |
| Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die |
| if he love her not; and she will die ere she make her love known: |
| and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one |
| breath of her accustomed crossness. |
| D. Pedro. |
| She doth well: if she should make tender of her love 't is |
| very possible he'll scorn it: for the man, as you know all, hath |
| a contemptible spirit. |
| Claud. : |
| He is a very proper man. |
| D. Pedro. |
| He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. |
| Claud. : |
| 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. |
| D. Pedro. |
| He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are like wit. |
| Leon. : |
| And I take him to be valiant. |
| D. Pedro. |
| As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you |
| may see he is wise; for either he avoids them with great |
| discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear. |
| Leon. : |
| If he do fear God he must necessarily keep peace; if he |
| break the peace he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and |
| trembling. |
| D. Pedro. |
| And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it |
| seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am |
| sorry for your niece: Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of |
| her love? |
| Claud. : |
| Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. |
| Leon. : |
| Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first. |
| D. Pedro. |
| Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter. Let it |
| cool the while. I love Benedick well: and I could wish he would |
| modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy to have |
| so good a lady. |
| Leon. : |
| My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. |
| Claud. : |
| If he dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. |
| [Aside.] |
| D. Pedro. |
| Let there be the same net spread for her: and that must your |
| daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they |
| hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter; |
| that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb |
| show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.[Aside.] |
| [Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato.] |
| [Benedick advances from the arbour.] |
| Bene. : |
| This can be no trick: The conference was sadly borne.—They |
| have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; |
| it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it |
| must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear |
| myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say |
| too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.—I |
| did never think to marry—I must not seem proud:—Happy are they |
| that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They |
| say the lady is fair; 't is a truth, I can bear them witness: and |
| virtuous—'t is so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving |
| me:—By my troth, it is no addition to her wit;—nor no great |
| argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her.— |
| I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on |
| me, because I have railed so long against marriage: But doth not |
| the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he |
| cannot endure in his age: Shall quips, and sentences, and these |
| paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his |
| humour? No: The world must be peopled. When I said I would die |
| a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.— |
| Here comes Beatrice: By this day, she's a fair lady: I do spy |
| some marks of love in her. |
| [Enter Beatrice.] |
| Beat. : |
| Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. |
| Bene. : |
| Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. |
| Beat. : |
| I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to |
| thank me; if it had been painful I would not have come. |
| Bene. : |
| You take pleasure, then, in the message? |
| Beat. : |
| Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and |
| choke a daw withal:—You have no stomach, signior; fare you well. |
| [Exit.] |
| Bene. : |
| Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner'— |
| there's a double meaning in that. 'I took no more pains for |
| those thanks, than you took pains to thank me'—that's as much |
| as to say Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks:— |
| If I do not take pity of her I am a villain; if I do not love |
| her I am a Jew: I will go get her picture. |
| [Exit.] |
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