ACT II
Sc. III

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 large1 jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love? 190 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 so good a lady.
LEON. My Lord, will you walk ?2 dinner is ready.
CLAUD. [aside.] If he do not doat on her upon this, I
will never trust my expectation.

201

D. PEDRO [aside.] Let there be the same net spread for
her; and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen
carry. The sport will be, when they hold an opinion
of one another's dotage, and no such matter:3 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.
[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.5 Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censur'd: 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 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous-'tis 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 rail'd 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,1 and these paper-bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career2 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.

232

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?

239

[exit.

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.
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.

ACT III

SCENE I. LEONATO's Orchard.

Enter HERO, with MARGARET and URSUla.

[exit.

HERO. Good Margaret, run thee-run thee to the parlour:

There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice

Proposing with the Prince and Claudio:

1 saws from books; and in this way 'paper-bullets.' 2 the last point in horse and horseman's accomplishment: a swift, short gallop ending in a sudden stop.

ACT II

Sc. III

ACT III
Sc. I

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 pleached1 bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the Sun,
Forbid the Sun to enter: like to favourites

ΤΟ

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 trace2 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;

20

[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 couched 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 that we lay for it.

30

[approaching the bower.

No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock.3

URS.

But are you sure

That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

HERO. So says the Prince and my new-trothed Lord.

1 close-hedged and close-roofed with interwoven boughs.

2 follow.

URS. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?
HERO. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,

And never to let Beatrice know of it.

URS. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
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 fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising1 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-endear'd.

And therefore certainly it were not good

She knew his love, lest she made sport at it.

HERO. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw

man,

How wise, how noble, young, how rarely-featur'd,
But she would spell him backward:2 if fair-fac'd,
She would 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 moved 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. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
HERO. No, nor to be so odd and from all fashions
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable:

But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit!

1 contemning.

II: E

2 turn him 'wrong side out.'

3 differing from.

33

АСТ III
Sc. I

say.

Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.
URS. Yet tell her of it: hear what she will
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 priz'd 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,2 and valour,
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. [aside.] She's lim'd,3 I warrant you: we have caught
her, Madam.

HERO [aside.] If it prove so, then loving goes by haps:
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

[Exeunt HERO and URSULA.

BEATRICE advances.

BEAT. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:

1 deportment.

2 intellectual quality.

3 taken as with bird-lime.