Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold. Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have you professed apprehension? Marg. Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely? Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap.—By my troth, I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm. Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think, perchance, that I think you are in love: nay, by 'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudg ing: and how you may be converted, I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? Re-enter URSULA. Urs. Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church. Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Another Room in LEONATO's House. Enter LEONATO with DOGBERRY and Verges. Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour? Dogb. Marry, Sir, I would have some confidence with you, that decerns you nearly. Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me. Dogb. Marry, this it is, Sir. Verg. Yes, in truth it is, Sir. Leon. What is it, my good friends? Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little off the matter: an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows. Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ha? Dogb. Yea, an't were a thousand pound more than 'tis; for I hear as good exclamation on your worship, as of any man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. Verg. And so am I. Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, Sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. Dogb. A good old man, Sir, he will be talking: as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out. God help us! it is a world to see!-Well said, i' faith, neighbour Verges:-well, God's a good man: an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind.An honest soul, i' faith, Sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but God is to be worshipped: all men are not alike;-alas, good neighbour! - Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts that God gives. Leon. I must leave you. Dogb. One word, Sir: our watch, Sir, have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship. Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me: I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. Dogb. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Enter a Messenger Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. Leon. I'll wait upon them: I am ready. [Exeunt LEONATO and Messenger. Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacoal; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now to examination these men. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here's that shall drive some of them to a non com: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt. Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! Bene. How now! Interjections? Why then, some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he! Claud. Stand thee by, friar.-Father, by your Will you with free and unconstrained soul [leave: Give me this maid, your daughter? Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, Not to be married; Claud. I know what you would say: if I have known her, You'll say she did embrace me as a husband, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother? nato, I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, D. John. Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. Beat. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink D. John, Come, let us go. These things, come Smother her spirits up. [thus to light, [Exeunt Don PEDRO, Don JOHN, and CLAUDIO. Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think?-help, uncle! Hero! why, Hero!-Uncle!-Signior Benedick!— friar! How now, cousin Hero! Friar. Have comfort, lady. Leon. Dost thou look up? Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny [thing The story that is printed in her blood?— Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes: For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not with charitable hand Took up a beggar's issue at my gates; Who smirched thus and mir'd with infamy, I might have said, "No part of it is mine; This shame derives itself from unknown loins?" But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on; mine so much, That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her; why, she-O, she is fallen Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again, And salt too little, which may season give To her foul tainted flesh ! Bene. Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Leon. Friar, it cannot be. Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left, Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know none; If I know more of any man alive, Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Friar. Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. And on your family's old monument Change slander to remorse; that is some good: That what we have we prize not to the worth And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, Than when she liv'd indeed:-then shall he mourn, Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: Leon. Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. Friar. 'Tis well consented: presently away; For to strange sores strangely they strain the Come, lady, die to live: this wedding day [cure.Perhaps is but prolong'd: have patience, and endure. [Exeunt Friar FRANCIS, HERO, and LEONATO. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that. Beat. You have no reason; I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man do it? Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange? Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so |