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 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 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
BEATRICE Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.
BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
BEATRICE 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.
BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message?
BEATRICE 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
BENEDICK 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.
Exit
Act 3
Scene 1
LEONATO’S garden.
Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA
HERO Good Margaret, run thee to 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 pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen’d by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her,
To listen our purpose. This is thy office;
Bear thee well in it and leave us alone.
MARGARET 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.
Enter BEATRICE, behind
Now begin;
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
URSULA 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.
Approaching the bower
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggerds of the rock.
URSULA But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
HERO So says the prince and my new-trothed lord.
URSULA 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 loved Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
URSULA 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 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.
URSULA Sure, I think so;
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
HERO Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced,
She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique,
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.
URSULA Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
HERO No, not 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.
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.
URSULA 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.
URSULA 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.
URSULA I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.
HERO Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
URSULA 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 show thee some attires, and have thy counsel
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.
URSULA She’s limed, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam.
HERO If it proves so, then loving goes by haps:
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
Exeunt HERO and URSULA
BEATRICE [Coming forward]
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:
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band;
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly.
Exit
Scene 2
A room in LEONATO’S house
Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LEONATO
DON PEDRO I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and
then go I toward Arragon.
CLAUDIO I’ll bring you thither, my lord, if you’ll
vouchsafe me.
DON PEDRO Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss
of your marriage as to show 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
bow-string 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.
BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been.
LEONATO So say I
methinks you are sadder.
CLAUDIO I hope he be in love.
DON PEDRO Hang him, truant! there’s no true drop of blood in