Bene. 'Tis no such matter:-Then, you do not love me? Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, 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 wit-crackers 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 propose to marry, I will think nothing to any pur pose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.-For thy part, Claudio, did think to have beaten thee; but in that* thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst 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 own 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. * Because, [Dance. [Exeunt. SCENE.-Athens, and a Wood not far from it. ACT I. SCENE I-Athens. A Room in the Palace of THESEUS. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants. Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Long withering out a young man's revenue. Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow New bent in heaven, shall behold the night The. Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Atherian youth to merriments; Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth. Turn melancholy forth to funerais, 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? I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; The. What say you, Hermia? be advised, fair maid: To you your father should be as a god; One that composed your beauties; yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure, or disfigure it. Her. So is Lysander. 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. The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. I know not by what power I am made bold; In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts; * Shows. + Baubles. But I beseech your grace that I may know The. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, For aye* to be in shady cloister mew'd, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord. Ere I will yield my virgin patent up Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty. The. Take time to pause: and by the next new moon (The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, For everlasting bond of fellowship), Upon that day either prepare to die, Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would: For aye, austerity and single life. Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia;-And, Lysander, yield 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; And what is mine my love shall render him; I do estate unto Demetrius. Lys, I am, my lord, as well derived as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, Why should not I then prosecute my right? Upon this spottedt and inconstant man. The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; But, being over-full of self affairs, I must employ you in some business [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 Beteem them* from the tempest of mine eyes. Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read, The course of true love never did run smooth: Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low! So quick bright things come to confusion. Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an edict in destiny: Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross; As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes and tears, poor fancy's § followers. Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia. I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue, and she hath no child: From Athens is her house remote seven leagues: And she respects me as her only son. And to that place the sharp Athenian law * Give, bestow. + Black. † Momentary. $ Love s. |