The Complete Works of Shakspeare, Revised from the Best Authorities : with a Memoir, and Essay on His Genius

There's not a note of mine that's worth the she hath, in all outward behaviors, seemed ever to

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 sheeps'-guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?-Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.

BALTHAZAR sings.

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.

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.

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 never was counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it.

D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shews 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 is a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery

D. Pedro. Ha? no; no, faith; thou singest well cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence. enough for a shift.

Bene. [Aside.] And 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.

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. 'Tis 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 at [Exeunt BALTHAZAR and Music. night; and there will she sit in her smock, till she

have writ a sheet of paper :—my daughter tells us tender of her love, 't is very possible he'll scorn all. it for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

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, "O sweet Benedick! God give me pa

curses: tience!"

Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so and the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid 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 but make 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.

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, shew 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 Christian-like 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 see 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'll 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

D. Pedro. In every thing but in loving Bene- to have so good a lady. dick.

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 daffed 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.

Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not doat 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 arbor. 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 D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make 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 never 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 old 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 humor? No: the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I would 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 these thanks, than you took pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleasure 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 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.

SCENE I. LEONATO's Garden.

ACT III.

Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlor; There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing with the Prince and Claudio : Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleachéd bower, Where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter; -like favorites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it-there will she hide her,

To listen our propose. This is thy office; Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. [Exit.

Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick:
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit:
My talk to thee must be, how Benedick

Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin ;

Enter BEATRICE, behind.

For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait:
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couchéd in the woodbine coverture:
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing

Of the false sweet bait we lay for it.

[They advance to the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;

I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock.

Urs.

But are you sure

That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

Hero. So says the prince and my new trothed lord.

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commend

able.

Hero. No: not to be so odd and from all fash-
ions

As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable :
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
It were a better death than die with mocks;

Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, mad- Which is as bad as die with tickling.

am?

Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of
it:

But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentle

man

Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,

As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But Nature never framed a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice :
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her

All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.

How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced,
She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why Nature, drawing of an antic,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut:

If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block, movéd with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out;
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion:
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my
cousin with. One doth not know
How much an ill word may empoison liking.

Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment
(Having so swift and excellent a wit
As she is prized to have) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urs. I pray you be not angry with me, madam,
Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument, and valor,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name.
Urs. His excellence did earn it ere he had it.-
When are you married, madam?

Hero. Why, every day; - to-morrow. Come,

go in ;

I'll shew thee some attires; and have thy counsel
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Urs. She's limed, I warrant you; we have caught her, madam.

Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [Exeunt HERO and URSULA.

BEATRICE advances.

D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be the loss of a beard. consummate, and then I go toward Arragon.

D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet: can

Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you 'll you smell him out by that? vouchsafe me.

D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leon. So say I; methinks you are sadder.
Claud. I hope he be in love.

D. Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched with love if he be sad, he wants money.

Bene. I have the tooth-ache.

D. Pedro. Draw it.

Bene. Hang it.

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.

D. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ache?
Leon. Where is but a humor, or a worm?
Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but he
that has it.

Claud. Yet, say I, he is in love.

D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises: as, to be a Dutchman to-day; a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as, a German from the waist downward, all slops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no

Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love.

D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face? D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops.

D. Pedro. Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him conclude, conclude, he is in love.

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. D. Pedro. That would I know too; I warrant, one that knows him not.

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despite of all, dies for him.

D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face wards.

Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ache. Old Signior, walk aside with me; I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to which you, these hobby-horses must not hear.

[Exeunt BENEDICK and LEONATO. D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.

Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another, when they meet.

Enter DON JOHN.

D. John. My lord and brother, God save you.

« Zurück Weiter »

Books

The Complete Works of Shakspeare, Revised from the Best Authorities ..., Band 2