Chapter 3

Leon. I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines

Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankefull and reuerend youth, and I praise God for you

Leon. There's for thy paines

Const. God saue the foundation

Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thanke thee

Const. I leaue an arrant knaue with your worship, which I beseech your worship to correct your selfe, for the example of others: God keepe your worship, I wish your worship well, God restore you to health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart, and if a merrie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come neighbour

Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.

Exeunt.

Brot. Farewell my Lords, we looke for you to morrow

Prin. We will not faile

Clau. To night ile mourne with Hero

Leon. Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

Exeunt.

Enter Benedicke and Margaret.

Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue well at my hands, by helping mee to the speech of Beatrice

Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my beautie? Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing shall come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest it

Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I alwaieskeepe below staires?Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth,it catches

Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, whichhit, but hurt not

Bene. A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the bucklers

Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our owne

Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for Maides

Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath legges.

Exit Margarite.

Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that sits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose name yet runne smoothly in the euen rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so truely turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: marrie I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne, horne, a hard rime: for schoole foole, a babling rime: verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes: Enter Beatrice.

sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd thee? Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me

Bene. O stay but till then

Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath past betweene you and Claudio

Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse thee

Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therefore I will depart vnkist

Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sence, so forcible is thy wit, but I must tell thee plainely, Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly heare from him, or I will subscribe him a coward, and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in loue with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politique a state of euill, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first suffer loue for me? Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue indeede, for I loue thee against my will, Beat. In spight of your heart I think, alas poore heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will neuer loue that which my friend hates

Bened. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceablie

Bea. It appeares not in this confession, there's not one wise man among twentie that will praise himselfe

Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not erect in this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall liue no longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, & the Widdow weepes

Beat. And how long is that thinke you? Ben. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quarter in rhewme, therfore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don worme (his conscience) finde no impediment to the contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my selfe so much for praising my selfe, who I my selfe will beare witnesse is praise worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin? Beat. Verie ill

Bene. And how doe you?Beat. Verie ill too.Enter Vrsula.

Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaueyou too, for here comes one in haste

Vrs. Madam, you must come to your Vncle, yonders old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie Hero hath bin falselie accusde, the Prince and Claudio mightilie abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presentlie? Beat. Will you go heare this newes Signior? Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to thy Vncles.

Exeunt.

Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers.

Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato?Lord. It is my Lord.

Epitaph.

Done to death by slanderous tongues,Was the Hero that here lies:Death in guerdon of her wrongs,Giues her fame which neuer dies:So the life that dyed with shame,Liues in death with glorious fame.Hang thou there vpon the tombe,Praising her when I am dombe

Clau. Now musick sound & sing your solemn hymne

Song.

Pardon goddesse of the night,Those that slew thy virgin knight,For the which with songs of woe,Round about her tombe they goe:Midnight assist our mone, helpe vs to sigh and grone.Heauily, heauily.Graues yawne and yeelde your dead,Till death be vttered,Heauenly, heauenly

Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this right

Prin. Good morrow masters, put your Torches out,The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle dayBefore the wheeles of Phoebus, round aboutDapples the drowsie East with spots of grey:Thanks to you all, and leaue vs, fare you well

Clau. Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way

Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes,And then to Leonatoes we will goe

Clau. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds,Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe.

Exeunt.

Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero.

Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent?Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her,Vpon the errour that you heard debated:But Margaret was in some fault for this,Although against her will as it appeares,In the true course of all the question

Old. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well

Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'dTo call young Claudio to a reckoning for it

Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,Withdraw into a chamber by your selues,And when I send for you, come hither mask'd:The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this howreTo visit me, you know your office Brother,You must be father to your brothers daughter,And giue her to young Claudio.

Exeunt. Ladies.

Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenance

Bene. Frier, I must intreat your paines, I thinke

Frier. To doe what Signior?Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them:Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour

Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true

Bene. And I doe with an eye of loue requite her

Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me,From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will?Bened. Your answer sir is Enigmaticall,But for my will, my will is, your good willMay stand with ours, this day to be conioyn'd,In the state of honourable marriage,In which (good Frier) I shall desire your helpe

Leon. My heart is with your liking

Frier. And my helpe.Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants.

Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly

Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio:We heere attend you, are you yet determin'd,To day to marry with my brothers daughter?Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope

Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready

Prin. Good morrow Benedicke, why what's the matter?That you haue such a Februarie face,So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse

Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull:Tush, feare not man, wee'll tip thy hornes with gold,And all Europa shall reioyce at thee,As once Europa did at lusty Ioue,When he would play the noble beast in loue

Ben. Bull Ioue sir, had an amiable low,And some such strange bull leapt your fathers Cow,A got a Calfe in that same noble feat,Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleat.Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula.

Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings.Which is the Lady I must seize vpon?Leo. This same is she, and I doe giue you her

Cla. Why then she's mine, sweet let me see your face

Leon. No that you shal not, till you take her hand,Before this Frier, and sweare to marry her

Clau. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier,I am your husband if you like of me

Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife,And when you lou'd, you were my other husband

Clau. Another Hero?Hero. Nothing certainer.One Hero died, but I doe liue,And surely as I liue, I am a maid

Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead

Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her slander liu'd

Frier. All this amazement can I qualifie,When after that the holy rites are ended,Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death:Meane time let wonder seeme familiar,And to the chappell let vs presently

Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice?Beat. I answer to that name, what is your will?Bene. Doe not you loue me?Beat. Why no, no more then reason

Bene. Why then your Vncle, and the Prince, & Claudio,haue beene deceiued, they swore you did

Beat. Doe not you loue mee?Bene. Troth no, no more then reason

Beat. Why then my Cosin Margaret and VrsulaAre much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did

Bene. They swore you were almost sicke for me

Beat. They swore you were wel-nye dead for me

Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me?Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence

Leon. Come Cosin, I am sure you loue the gentlema[n]

Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her,For heres a paper written in his hand,A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine,Fashioned to Beatrice

Hero. And heeres another,Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket,Containing her affection vnto Benedicke

Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our hearts: come I will haue thee, but by this light I take thee for pittie

Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I yeeld vpon great perswasion, & partly to saue your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption

Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth

Prin. How dost thou Benedicke the married man? Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a Colledge of witte-crackers cannot flout mee out of my humour, dost thou think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man will be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome about him: in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will thinke nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruis'd, and loue my cousin

Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of questio[n] thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee

Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues heeles

Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward

Bene. First, of my word, therfore play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no staff more reuerend then one tipt with horn. Enter. Mes.

Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight,And brought with armed men backe to Messina

Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuisethee braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers.

Dance.

FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing.


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