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Much Ado About Nothing
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READ STUDY GUIDE: Act II, scenes ii–iii

 
Act II, Scene iii:
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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