J<^tu^ '^' /^^^^ly^^'^^.i^^ . ^■^.iX'% vV,ini,jt!i.,. YtM \jUn M^i^-i-^ V"^'- Claudio : -'He hath ta'en the infection : hold it up" Much Ado about Nothing Act II Scene j Copyright, 1 90 1 By THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Preface. COLLEG LIBRARY The Editions, A quarto edition of Much Ado About Nothing was published in 1600 with the following title- page: — "Much Adoe About Nothing as it hath been sun- drie times pubiikely acted by the right honourable the Lord Chamberlain his servants Written by William Shakespeare. London.' (It had previously been entered on the Sta- tioners' Register, August 23, 1600.) No other edition is known to have been published previous to the publica- tion of the First Folio, 1623 ; the play was evidently printed from a copy of a Quarto in the possession of the Theatre, or of the original MS., corrected for the pur- poses of the Stage. {Cp. Facsimile Quarto Edition, ed. by Mr. Daniel.) There are many minor variations be- tween the Quarto and the First Folio, but most of them seem due to the printer's carelessness. Date of Composition. As the play is not mentioned by jMeres, in 1598, and was printed in 1600, it may be safely assigned to the year iggq, in support of which date the following points are noteworthy: — (i) Probable allu- sion in the opening scene to a circumstance attending the campaign of the Earl of Essex in Ireland, during the summer of 1599 ; (2) the character of '' Amorphus, or the one Deformed," in Cynthia's Revels, 1600, may be com- pared with " the one Deformed, a vile thief this seven year" {cp. III. iii. 133-5, 175, 178) ; (3) the instructions which Dogberry and Verges give to the night-watch may possibly be intended as a burlesque on The Statutes of the Streets, imprinted by Wolfe, in 1595. Preface MUCH ADO Source of Plot. The incident of the interrupted mar- riage is identical with the s tory of Adriodante and G i- nevra in Ario st o's Orlando Furioso , Canto v. ; this had been translated into English by Beverly in 1565, and by Harrington in 1591. The story was dramatised before 1582, and was rendered into English verse by George Turbervile. Later on it found a place in Spenser's Fairy Queen, Book ii. Canto iv. Shakespeare may, howeve r, have derived his story from Belief orest s transbrion in b is Histoires Tra^iaiics of Bandello^s 22nd Novella . It is noteworthy that about the same time the German Dram- atist, Jacob Ayrer, founded his play Beautiful Phoenicia upon the same tale, and the English and German plays have certain points of resemblance. Possibly they were both indebted to a lost original {cp. Colin's Shakespeare in Germany). Dr. Ward sums up the evidence as fol- lows : — " As the date of Ayrer's piece is not known — it may have been written before or after 1600 — and as that of Shakspere's is similarly uncertain, it is impossible to decide as to their relative priority. That, however, Ayrer did not copy from Shakspere seems, as Simrock points out, clear from the names of the characters in his play, which follow Bandello, while S hakspere has chang ed alT^the^nama s, except those of Don Ped ro and old L^n- ata" General Characteristics. The mixture of tragedy and comedy in this play is so perfectly blended that it may well be regarded as the culminating point of Shake- speare's second period of activity, the period to which belong Twelfth Night, As You Like It, and The Merry Wives; the metrical tests actually place it last in this group. Beatrice and Benedick should be compared with their prototypes, Rosaline and Biron, and Dogberry and his comrades should be contrasted with the earlier clowns, in order to understand the advance which this play marks in Shakespeare's career. *' Perhaps," says Hazlitt, '* the middle point of comedy was never more nicely hit, in ABOUT NOTHING Preface which the ludicrous blends with the tender, and our follies, turning round against themselves, in support of our affections, retain nothing but their humanity." Later Versions of the Play. Two plays were founded upon Much Ado About Nothing — (i) Davenant's Laiv against Lovers, which Pepys saw on Feb. i8th, 1661, and (2) The Universal Passion, by Rev. James Miller, 1737. Duration of Action. For a detailed study of the " time " of the play the reader is referred to Mr. Daniel's "' Time-Analysis," Trans, of Nezu Shaks. Soc. 1877-79, p. 144. He believes that just as the Prince forgets his de- termination to stay " at least a month" at Messino, so the " just seven-night " to the wedding was also either for- gotten or intentionally set aside, and that only four con- secutive day s are actually included in the "action of the drama — 1. Act I., and Act II. i. and ii. 2. Act II. iii., and Act III. i.-iii. 3. Act III. iv. and v. ; Act IV. ; Act V. i. ii., and part of iii. 4 Act v., part of iii., and iv. Watchman with bill, lantern, bell and dog. (From a woodcut in Decker s English Villames, six severall Times prest to Death by the Printers.) MUCH ADO Critical Comments. I. Argument. I. Don Pedro, prince of Arragon, comes on a visit to Leonato, governor of Messina, accompanied by Bene- dick and Claudio, two young noblemen who have been serving with him in the wars. Between Benedick and Beatrice, Leonato's niece, there has been a merry war; so that " they never meet but there 's a skirmish of wit between them." On the occasion of this meeting they are true to their reputations for antagonism. Alean- while, Claudio is attracted once again by Leonato's daughter, Hero. Don Pedro kindly offers to sue to the lady and her father in the young lord's behalf. II. A masquerade is given by Leonato in honour of visitors. Don Pedro seizes the opportunity to woo Hero, giving her to think that he is Claudio. Don John, an evil-minded natural brother of the prince, seeks to poison Claudio's mind by telHng him that Don Pedro is wooing in his own behalf; and Claudio's spirits droop J^ until the lady is actually promised him by her father/ Seeing the small piece of villainv come to naught, Don John plots a much larger ou£?/IBenedick, on his part, fares badly at the masquerad^T^Beatrice flouts him so sadly that he is on the point of forsaking her society henceforth, when their friends, believing them to be well matched, decide upon a ruse to arouse their mutual affec- tions. Benedick is made to overhear that Beatrice is in love with him. ^ III. Beatrice is informed in the same fashion that Benedick loves her. Their hearts become more tender ABOUT NOTHING Comments towards each otb^ij Don Jx^hn's evil plans are maturing against Hero and Claudjojfele brings Claudio and Don Pedro beneath her window on the night before her wedding-day, and makes them believe that they are wit- nessing a meeting between her and some secret lover. The artifice is caused by Borachio, a follower of Don John, who addresses a waiting-maid as Hero; but the night is too dark to reveal the deception, and it would probably never have been discovered had not some blun- /^^^^^ dering watchmen, by a happy chance, overh^^ Bo~ ^ ^ rachio telling of the adventure. They seize hii^-^d try j^p^*^ to inform Leonato; but the latter, busied with the ^^-^^y^aef rangements for the marriage, does not stop to listen to /^^^ their rambling narrative^o) ,^-&-., V. Leonato is in the depths of despair and humiliation over the evil report concerning his daughter. He up- braids Claudio and wishes to fight him. Benedick chal- lenges Claudio. The testimony of the watchmen finally comes to light, revealing the plot of Don John and the innocence of Hero. Claudio sues for forgiveness, which the generous Leonato grants, on cpndition that Claudio wed a niece who is said to be much like Hero, but whose face he is not permitted to see until after the marriage / ^/jj ceremony has been performed. Claudio, who had jDrpm- ^ ised any penance, willingly consents to thisTl^'^His^hS^pi- l>^ ness, therefore, is made perfect when the masked lady fVc*-' proves to be Hero, whom he has been mourning as dead. .^O While Beatrice and Benedick, although they find out the ^ ^q^ trick that has brought them together, are not sorry for it, "t 'Tj but stop their bickerings with a kiss, r^ tx^^^ ^ v^^^^O^. McSpadden: Shakespearian Synopses. \ •{ k\ Comments MUCH ADO II. Beatrice. Shakspeare has exhibited in Beatrice a spirited and faithful portrait of the fine lady of his own time. The deportment, language, manners and allusions are those of a particular class in a particular age; but the indi- vidual and dramatic character which forms the ground- work is strongly discriminated, and being taken from general nature, belongs to every age. In Beatrice, high intellect and high animal spirits meet, and excite each other like fire and air. In her wit (which is brilliant without being imaginative) there is a touch of insolence, not infrequent in women when the wit predominates over reflection and imagination. In her temper, too, there is a slight infusion of the termagant; and her satirical humour plays with such an unrespective levity over all subjects alike, that it required a profound knowledge of women to bring such a character within the pale of our sympathy. But Beatrice, though wilful, is not wayward ; she is volatile, not unfeeling. She has not only an exu- berance of wit and gayety, but of heart, and soul, and energy of spirit; and is no more like the fine ladies of modern comedy — whose wat consists in a temporary illusion, or a play upon words, and whose petulance is displayed in a toss of the head, a flirt of the fan, or a flourish of the pocket handkerchief; — than one of our modern dandies is like Sir Philip Sidney: In Beatrice, Shakspeare has contrived that the poetry of the character shall not only soften, but heighten its comic effect. We are not only inclined to forgive Bea- trice ah her scornful airs, all her biting jests, all her assumption of superiority; but they amuse and delight us the more, when we find her, with all the headlong sim- plicity of a child, falling at once into the snare laid for her affections; when we see her, who thought a man of God's making not good enough for her, who disdained 6 ABOUT NOTHING Comments to be o'ermastered by " a piece of valiant dust," stooping like the rest of her sex, veiling her proud spirit, and taming her wild heart to the loving hand of him whom she had scorned, flouted, and misused, " past the endu- rance of a block." And we are yet more completely won by her generous, enthusiastic attachment to her cousin. When the father of Hero believes the tale of her guilt; when Claudio, her lover, without remorse or a lingering doubt, consigns her to shame; when the Friar remains silent, and the generous Benedick himself knows not what to say, Beatrice, confident in her affections, and guided only by the impulses of her own feminine heart, sees through the inconsistency, the impossibility of the charge, and exclaims, without a moment's hesitation, O, on my soul, my cousin is belied ! ... A haughty, excitable, and violent temper is another of the characteristics of Beatrice ; but there is more of im- pulse than of passion in her vehemence. In the marriage scene where she has beheld her gentle-spirited cousin — whom she loves the more for those very qualities which are most unlike her own — slandered, deserted, and de- voted to public shame, her indignation, and the eager- ness with which she hungers and thirsts after revenge, are, like the rest of her character, open, ardent, impetu- ous, but not deep or implacable. When she bursts into that outrageous speech — Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What ! bear her in hand until they come to take hands ; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour — O God, that I were a man ! I would eat his heart in the market- place ! And when she commands her lover, as the first proof of his affection, " to kill Claudio," the very consciousness of the exaggeration, — of the contrast between the real good nature of Beatrice and the fierce tenor of her Ian- Comments MUCH ADO gnage, keeps alive the comic effect, mingling the ludi- crous with the serious. It is remarkable that, notwith- standing the point and vivacity of the dialogue, few of the speeches of Beatrice are capable of a general applica- tion, or engrave themselves distinctly on the memory; they contain more mirth than matter; and though wit be the predominant feature in the dramatic portrait, Bea- trice more charms and dazzles us by what she is than by what she says. It is not merely her sparkling repartees and saucy jests, it is the soul of wit, and the spirit of gayety informing the whole character — looking out from her brilliant eyes, and laughing on the full lips that pout vvith scorn — which we have before us, moving and full of life. Mrs. Jameson : Characteristics of Women. III. Beatrice Criticized and Defended. Mrs. Jameson, in her characters of Shakespeare, con- cludes with hoping that Beatrice will live happy with Benedick, but I have no such hope; and my final antici- pation in reading the play is the certainty that Beatrice will provoke her Benedick to give her much and just conjugal castigation. She is an odious woman. Her own cousin says of her: — " 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." I once knew such a pair; the lady was a perfect Bea- trice; she railed hypocritically at wedlock before her marriage, and with bitter sincerity after it. She and her Benedick now live apart, but with entire reciprocity of ABOUT NOTHING Comments sentiments, each devoutly wishing that the other may soon pass into a better world. Beatrice is not to be compared, but contrasted, with Rosalind, who is equally witty; but the sparkling sayings of Rosalind are like gems upon her head at court, and like dew-drops on her bright hair in the woodland forest. Campbell: Introduction to the Play. We extract this last criticism, partly in deference to Campbell's general exquisite taste and reverent apprecia- tion of Shakespeare's genius, and partly as an example of the manner in which accidental personal associations in- fluence taste and opinion. The critical poet seems to have unhappily suffered under the caprices or insolence of some accomplished but fantastical female wit, whose resemblance he thinks he recognizes in Beatrice; and then vents the offences of the belle of Edinburgh or Lon- don upon her prototype of Messina, or more probably of the court of Queen Elizabeth. Those who, without encountering any such unlucky cause of personal preju- dice, have looked long enough upon the rapidly passing generations of wits and beauties in the gay world to have noted their characters ^s they first appeared, and sub- sequently developed themselves in after-life, will pro- nounce a very different judgement. Beatrice's faults are such as ordinarily spring from the consciousness of talent and beauty, accompanied with the high spirits of youth and health, and the play of a lively fancy. Her brilliant intellectual qualities are associated with strong and generous feelings, high confidence in female truth and virtue, warm attachment to her friends, and quick, undisguised indignation at wrong and injustice. There is the rich material, which the experience and the sor- rows of maturer life, the affection and the duties of the wife and the mother, can gradually shape into the noblest forms of matronly excellence; and such, we doubt not, was the result shown in the married life of Beatrice. Verplanck : The Illustrated Shakespeare. Comments MUCH ADO IV. BenedicK. Benedick betrays a lurking partiality for his fascina- ting enemy; he shows that he has looked upon her with no careless eye when he says, "There's her cousin [meaning Beatrice], an she were not possessed with a fury, excels her as much in beauty as the first of May does the last of December." Infinite skill, as well as humour, is shown in making this pair of airy beings the exact counterpart of each other; but of the two portraits, that of Benedick is by far the most pleasing, because the independence and gay indifference of temper, the laughing defiance of love and marriage, the satirical freedom of expression, common to both, are more becoming to the mascuhne than to the feminine character. Any woman might love such a cavaher as Benedick, and be proud of his affection; his valour, his wit, and his gayety sit so gracefully upon him! and his light scoffs against the power of love are but just sufficient to render more piquant the conquest of this " heretic in despite of beauty." But a man might well be pardoned who should shrink from encountering such a spirit as that of Beatrice, unless, indeed, he had " served an apprenticeship to the taming-school." Mrs. Jameson: Characteristics of Women. The wit of Benedick . . . springs more from reflec- tion [than that of Beatrice], and grows with the growth of thought. With all the pungency and nearly all the pleasantry, it lacks the free, spontaneous volubility, of hers. Hence in their skirmishes she always gets the better of him. But he makes ample amends when out of her presence, trundling of jests in whole paragraphs. In short, if his wit be slower, it is also stronger than hers : not so agile in manner, more weighty in matter, it shines 10 ABOUT NOTHING Comments less, but burns more ; and as it springs much less out of the occasion, so it will bear repeating much better. Hudson: The Works of Shakespeare. Benedick's first greeting of Beatrice is as Lady Dis- dain, and at the masked ball it is his charge against her that she is " disdainful," and disdain is a complaint that scarcely occurs but to a lover ; hence it is Hero's charge — " No truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful, I know her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock." He himself betrays himself, when he places his " simple true judgement " of a lady, in opposition to his " custom as professed tyrant to the sex." When Claudio declares his love to Don Pedro, Benedick brings in his own senti- ments as to marriage, and turns and engrosses the whole conversation on his proper sentimental idiosyncrasy, with little regard for poor Claudio's suspended communication. After a sharp encounter with the lady, he can still indicate a full appreciation of her beauty, " an she were not pos- sessed with a fury "; and after one still sharper, when she drops a word that is almost unpardonable — " the fool will eat no supper," he advances, for advance It is, one step nearer to self-knowledge in averring, " I would not marry her if " it matters not what follows, for conditions were indifferent after the thought was once fairly enter- tained. It is comic and characteristic that the acute, the observant Benedick, never catches a glimpse of the true incitement of the persecution of Beatrice ; he supposes a base or bitter disposition — anything rather than the truth that at heart she thoroughly admires him, and would be pleased and flattered to be admired and attended to in turn, and that it is pique and not contemptuousness that arms her tongue. Apparently he has himself, and his self-sufificient parade of superiority to Love — a divinity who will not be insulted with impunity, to thank for his false and uncomfortable position. Beatrice speaks of a Comments MUCH ADO time when they seem to have had more peaceable rela- tions, and he gained a heart of her, though it proved to be with false dice; indifference, however, is almost as dire a crime as treachery in a court of love, especially in the bachelor, and therefore it is that Benedick suffers most by the mutual persecution, and, by the course of his con- versation, is justly exposed to far more ridicule than at- taches to Beatrice in her recovery, inasmuch as she, though with irregular weapons, was at least vindicating the natural rights of her beauty and attractions. Lloyd : Critical Essays on the Plays of Shakespeare, V. Benedick and Beatrice Well Matched. By her [Beatrice's] side Shakespeare has placed Bene- dick, a IMercutio redivivus ; a youth who is the reverse of amatory, opposed to a maiden who is the reverse of tender. He abhors betrothal and marriage quite as vehemently as she, and is, from the man's point of view, no less scornful of all sentimentality than she, from the woman's; so that he and she, from the first, stand on a warlike footing with each other. In virtue of a pro- found and masterly psychological observation, Shake- speare presently makes these two suddenly fall in love with each other, over head and ears, for no better reason than that their friends persuade Benedick that Beatrice is secretly pining for love of him, and Beatrice that Bene- dick is mortally enamoured of her, accompanying this in- formation with high-flown eulogies of both. Their thoughts were already occupied with each other; and now the amatory fancy flames forth in both of them all the more strongly, because it has so long been banked down. And here, where everything was of his own in- vention and he could move quite freely, Shakespeare has with delicate ingenuity brought the pair together, not by means of empty words, but in a common cause, Beatrice's first advance to Benedick taking place in the form of an 12 ABOUT NOTHING Comments appeal to him for chivalrous intervention in behalf of her innocent cousin. The reversal in the mutual relations of Benedick and Beatrice is, moreover, highly interesting in so far as it is probably the first instance of anything like careful char- acter-development which we have as yet encountered in any single play of Shakespeare's. In the earlier come- dies there was nothing of the kind, and the chronicle- plays afforded no opportunity for it. The characters had simply to be brought into harmony with the given historical events, and in every case Shakespeare held firmly to the character-scheme once laid down. Neither Richard III. nor Henry V. presents any spiritual history ; both kings, in the plays which take their names from them, are one and the same from first to last. Enough has already been said of Henry's change of front with respect to FalstafT in Henry /F. ; we need only remark further that here the old play of The Famous Victories unmistakably pointed the way to Shakespeare. But this melting of all that is hard and frozen in the natures of Benedick and Beatrice is without a parallel in any earher work, and is quite plainly executed con amore. And the real substance of the play lies not in the plot from which it takes its name, but in the relation between these two characters, freely invented by Shakespeare. Brandes : William Shakespeare. VI. Hero. It is not every lady — I speak under correction, who, al- though disposed to be as placable as Hero under grievous insult and injury, would be satisfied with reparation prof- fered in the exact form, that appears to indicate a prompt- itude to be consoled, that goes far to cancel the merit of penitence. The veil of Hero would have been thrown down, by some, not to welcome the contrite lover with an 13 Comments MUCH ADO agreeable surprise, but to confound him by the sight of the lost bride, who might claim a right, under the circum- stances, to have at least detained his affections ; and there must, in fact, be great peculiarity in the love and engage- ment of the pair, for us to be able to witness the scene, without expecting reproaches on one side, and shame and confusion on the other. The instance of the indignation of Hermione, and the penance she exacts, for a similar outrage, is an extreme contrast, but exhibits the principle of feeling involved. Hero has to be depicted, and is depicted, of such temper and disposition as will accept this not very complimentary form of reparation, and yet of such susceptibilities as to feel her false accusation acutely, and to interest our es- teem and sympathy. The lady herself is the sweet docile creature, with well- proportioned beauty, intelligence, and disposition for af- fectionateness,that so frequently accepts her fate from the arrangements of other people, and, with moderate good fortune, may enjoy and confer a temperate happiness in any one of many possible engagements. Benedick's definition of her excellence is all-sufficient. She claims no commendation in excess ; yet were she other than she is she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she is, Benedick and such as he may not like her, but without art, or invitation, or coquetry, she will be one of the last to go through her teens without a husband, notwithstand- ing. It is wonderful how Shakespeare has been able to in- terest us *by the mere attractiveness of simple, affectionate, and cheerful disposition in a female character, with scarcely a touch of passion, and for independent will so nearly a nonentity. When Leonato thinks Don Pedro is the suitor for his daughter, he proposes to " acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true." The theory of the communication appears in a subsequent speech: — " Daughter, remember what I told you ; if the prince do 14 ABOUT NOTHING Comments solicit you in that kind, you know your answer " ; and Hero by her silence, or probably by the courtesy that gives Beatrice her cue, acquiesces. Beatrice has a theory of filial obedience in these matters, that her cousin does not, or has no occasion at least, to dream of. " Yes, faith, it is my cousin's duty to make courtesy, and say, ' As it please you,' but yet, for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say, * Father, as it please me.' " Clearly, if Beatrice is to be fitted with a husband by any will or choice other than her own, it must be managed by a different and far more artificial process. The limits of the independence that Hero was prepared to assert, are marked by a few dex- trous touches, in her not ungraceful repartees with the masked Don Pedro; prepared to be wooed, we suspect she is also prepared to consent, yet to indulge withal in those slighter ceremonious holdings off that are the fem- inine prerogative in the most absolute surrender — their honours of war. Lloyd : Critical Essays on the Plays of Shakespeare. VII. Claudio. To Claudio we cannot reconcile ourselves. He allows himself to be convinced, by the clumsiest stratagem, that his young bride, in reality as pure and tender as a flower, is a faithless creature, who deceives him the very day before her marriage. Instead of withdrawing in silence, he prefers, like the blockhead he is, to confront her in the church, before the altar, and in the hearing of every one overwhelm her with coarse speeches and low accusations ; and he induces his patron, the Prince Don Pedro, and even the lady's own father, Leonato, to join him in heap- ing upon the unhappy bride their idiotic accusations. When, by the advice of the priest, her relatives have given her out as dead and the worthy old Leonato has IS Comments MUCH ADO lied up hill and down dale about her hapless end, Claudio, who now learns too late that he has been duped, is at once taken into favour again. Leonato only demands of him — in accordance with the medieval fable — that he shall declare himself willing to marry whatever woman he (Leonato) shall assign to him. This he promises, without a word or thought about Hero ; whereupon she is placed in his arms. The original spectators, no doubt, found this solution satisfactory; a modern audience is exasperated by it, very much as Nora, in A Doll's House, is exasperated on finding that Helmer, after the danger has passed away, regards all that has happened in their souls as though it had never been, merely because the sky is clear again. If ever man was unworthy a woman's love, that man is Claudio. If ever marriage was odious and ill-omened, this is it. The old taleteller's invention has been too much even for Shakespeare's art. Brandes : William Shakespeare, VIIL Dogberry. At first it seems as if Shakspeare intended by the intro- duction of Dogberry and his ineffective watch merely to interpolate a bit of comic business, by parodying the im- portant phrases and impotent exploits of the suburban constable. But Dogberry's mission extended farther than that, and is intimately woven with delightful .unconscious- ness on his part into the fortunes of Hero. Dogberry is not only immortal for that, but his name will never die so long as village communities in either hemisphere elect their guardians of the peace and clothe them in verbose terrors. If tlie town is tmfortunately short of rascals, the officer will fear one in each bush, or extemporize one out of some unbelligerent starveling to show that the majestic instructions of his townsmen have not been wasted on him. This elaborate inefficiency is frequently selected by busy communities, because so few i6 ABOUT NOTHING Comments persons are there clumsy enough to be unemployed. Such a vagrom is easily comprehended. Dogberry has caught up the turns and idioms of sagacious speech, and seems to be blowing them up as life-belts; so he goes bobbing helplessly around in the froth of his talk. ' I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which, I beseech your worship, to correct yourself for the example of others. I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it." He ties his conversa- tion in hopeless knots of absurdity; when pomp takes possession of a vacuous mind, it rattles like the jester's bladder of dried pease. Have not his fellow-citizens in- vested him? He will then lavish the selectest phrases. I heard a village politician once say with scorn in town meeting, '' Mr. Moderator, I know nothing about your technalities." Dogberry is the most original of Mala- props, says to the Prince's order that it shall be suffigance, and tells the watch that salvation were a pun- ishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them. He has furnished mankind with that adroit phrase of conversational escape from compromise, '' Comparisons are odorous." Where common men would suspect a person, Dogberry says the person is auspicious. His brain seems to be web-footed, and tumbles over itself in trying to reach swimming water; as when he says, '' Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly." This is the precipitancy of a child's reasoning. His own set do not discover by his malapropisms how futile he is, for their ears are accustomed to this mis- placing of terms ; which, indeed, is not uncommon among people of stronger native sense. Even the spelling-book and primer are not prophylactic against this failing, which seems to be owing to cerebral inability to keep words from gadding about vv^ith each other after they have once en- tered the mind : a laxness between notions and memory which results in verbal hybridity, as when a man, who was Comments MUCH ADO well informed enough, used to say, when the castors were passed, that he never took condignments with his food; and the Western lawyer said of a man that he could not tell a story without embezzlements. Dogberry has a pondering look and a fribbling em- phasis. He rolls the plump phrases over and over like a quid, but ejects them with a kind of strenuous drivel. He makes pauses, as if discriminating the juiciest reflec- tion, but really settles at random, like a pigeon whose brain has been vivisected ; so he concludes that, if a man will not stand when he is bid to, he may go; and that, though a thief ought to be arrested, they that touch pitch will be defiled ; and that, on the whole, it is better to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your com- pany. Thus he attains to the merit of genius when it chips the egg and lets loose the struggling chick of the ordinary mind. He voices the perplexity of the watch, and lends to it the color of concession and sagacious compromise. It is exactly what old Verges thought but did not know how to incubate into definite expression. So all the peo- ple who sit upon political fences, and find the edge grow- ing inconvenient, welcome the pad which postpones the necessity for a jump to either side. Dogberry admires and cossets his own authority, but is too timid to enforce it save with poor old Verges, whose mental feebleness is an exact shadow of Dog- berry's ; and the latter manages to step upon himself in amusing unconsciousness. '' An old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were." A good old man, sir ; but he will gabble. All men are not alike, alas ! So he goes on, dismissing himself, and slam- ming to the door without observing it. Weiss: JVit, Humor, and Shakspeare, Most delightful is the contradiction between appearance and reaUty, between subjective conception and objective reality, as we have it exhibited in the Clown of the piece, i8 ABOUT NOTHING Comments the dutiful constable Dogberry, who considers his posi- tion so very important and maintains it so zealously, but who is always uttering contradictory maxims and pre- cepts ; who is so presumptuous and yet so modest ; who looks at things with so correct an eye and yet pronounces such foolish judgements; talks so much and yet says so little, in fact, perpetually contradicts himself, giving or- ders for what he advises to be left undone, entreating to be registered an ass, and yet is the very one to discover the nothing which is the cause of the much ado. He is the chief representative of that view of life upon which the whole is based, inasmuch as its comic power is ex- hibited most strongly and most directly in him. For this contrast, which, in accordance with its nature, usually ap- pears divided between its two poles, is, so to say, individ- ualised in him, that is, united in the one individual and fully reflected in his inconsistent and ever contradictory doings and resolves, thoughts and sayings. Dogberry personifies, if we may say so, the spirit and meaning of the whole, and, therefore, plays essentially the same part as the Fool in Tzvclfth Night, Touchstone in As You Like It, Launce in the Tzvo Gentlemen of Verona, and the ma- jority of the clowns in Shakspeare's comedies. Besides this, he is also an important character in so far as it is he who discovers the rascally trick of Don John and his ac- complice which gives rise to the whole complication ; in fact, the comic caprice of accident delights in employing the most comic of all characters, the clowns par excel- lence, to bring to light that which it was indeed easy enough to discover, which, however, the sense of the sen- sible personages did not perceive. At all events our point of view gives an easy and simple explanation as to why Shakspeare conferred the difficult task of unravelling the entangled knot upon such a peculiarly foolish fellow as Dogberry, and why he made him the clown of the piece and conceived his character in this and in no other light. Ulrici : Shakspeare's Dramatic Art. 19 Comments MUCH ADO IX. Don John. In the person of Don John, the poet has depicted mere unmixed e\»il, and has disdained to supply a motive for his vile action in any single injury received, or desire un- satisfied. Don John is one of the sour, envious natures which suck poison from all sources, because they suffer from the perpetual sense of being unvalued and de- spised. He is, for the moment, constrained by the for- bearance with which his victorious brother has treated him, but '' if he had his mouth he would bite." And he does bite, like the cur and coward he is, and makes him- self scarce when his villainy is about to be discovered. He is an ill-conditioned, base, and tiresome scoundrel; and, although he conscientiously does evil for evil's sake, we miss in him all the defiant and brilliantly sinister quali- ties which appear later on in lago and in Edmund. There is little to object to in Don John's repulsive scoundrelism ; at most we may say that it is a strange motive-power for a comedy. ^ rrr-.-,- r^. . Brandes: William Shakespeare. X. General. The interest in the plot is always In fact on account of the characters, not vice versa, as in almost all other wri- ters ; the plot is a mere canvas and no more. Hence arises the true justification of the same stratagem being used in regard to Benedick and Beatrice — the vanity in each being alike. Take away from the Much Ado About Nothing all that which is not indispensable to the plot, either as having little to do with it, or, at best, like Dogberry and his comrades, forced into the service, when any other less ingeniously absurd watchmen and night-constables would have answered the mere necessities of the action — ABOUT NOTHING Comments take away Benedick, Beatrice, Dogberry, and the reaction of the former on the character of Hero — and what will remain? In other writers the main agent of the plot is always the prominent character; in Shakespeare it is so, or is not so, as the character is in itself calculated, or not calculated, to form the plot. Don John is the main- spring of the plot of this play ; but he is merely shown and then withdrawn. Coleridge. When we turn to the old stories upon which Shake- speare based his plays, we get, perhaps, a deeper impres- sion of his essential originality than we should were the plots wholly his own, whatever might be their merits as plots. We are brought, in this way, to a deeper sense of the workings of the inner spirit which subjected all its appropriations to its own creative purpose. We see that the work grew from what the workman had within him- self, and not merely from following what others had done before him. We see that the old story has been less worked into, than employed as the scaffolding of, his dramatic structure. The Ufe and the main interest of Much Ado About Nothing are due to characters which, so far as we know, were entirely original with Shakespeare, namely, Bene- dick and Beatrice, Dogberry and Verges. The other characters have prototypes in the original story, which is found under various forms, the earliest being the tale of Ariodante and Ginevra, in the Orlando Fiirioso of Ariosto. Corson : An Introduction to the Study of Shakespeare. [Much Ado About Nothing] is brilliant, spirited, charged wuth vivacity, and sparkling with wit; it is a masterpiece of keen characterization, of flashing conver- sation, of striking contrasts of type, and of intellectual energy, playing freely and buoyantly against a back- ground of exquisite beauty. The dramatist was now Comments completely emancipated from his earlier teachers, and had secured entire command of his own genius and of the re- sources of comedy as a literary form. In this splendid creation of his happiest mood in his most fortunate years, the prophecy of sustained and flashing interchange of wit in Lyly's court plays is amply fulfilled, and the promise of individual power of characterization clearly discerned in Biron and Rosaline is perfectly realized in Benedict and Beatrice ; while Dogberry and Verges mark the per- fection of Shakespeare's skill in drawing blundering clowns. In this play the blending of the tragic and humorous or comic is so happily accomplished that the two contrasting elements flow together in a vital and exquisite harmony of experience, full of tenderness, loyalty, audacity, and brilliancy ; the most comprehensive contrast of character is secured in Hero and Claudio, Benedict and Beatrice, as chief actors in the drama, with Dogberry and Verges as centres of interest in the minor or subsidiary plot. Hazhtt declares with reference to this play that perhaps '' the middle point of comedy was never more nicely hit, in which the ludicrous blends with the tender, and our follies, turning round against themselves in support of our affections, retain nothing but their hu- manity." In The Merry Wives of Windsor Shakespeare drew with a free hand the large and rather coarse quali- ties of English middle-class life; in Much Ado About Nothing he presented a study of life in the highest stage of the social order, touched at all points with distinction of insight, characterization, and taste. The gayety and brilliancy of the great world as contrasted with the little world of rural and provincial society are expressed with a confidence and consistency which indicate that the poet must have known something of the court circle and of the accomplished women who moved in it. Mabie: William Shakespeare: Poet, Dramatist, and Man. 22 Much Ado About Nothing, DRAMATIS PERSONAE. Don Pedro, prince of Arragon. Don John, his bastard brother. Claudio, a young lord of Florence. ^__Bejjedick, a young lord of Padua. Leonato, governor of Messina. Antonio, liis brother. Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro. Conrade, "1 „ Y followers of Don John. Borachio, J Friar Francis. ' o<>^'' f* Dogberry, a constable. Vo!>^ ^, ^>^o l&xL^^ Mess. I know none of that name, lady : there was none such in the army of any sort. ^ Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece ? Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. Mess. O, he 's returned ; and as pleasant as ever he Beat. He set up his bjl b here in^ Messina ana chal- /^^^^j^ lenged Cupid ^ the flighj : ; and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the bird-bx iit. I pray you, 40 how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars ? But how many hath he killed ? for, in- 4^u^ deed, I promised to eat all of his killing. ^f^ Leon. Faith, niece, you tax bigmor Benedick too ^4j^ ^ much ; but he '11 be meet with you, I doubt it ^/ not. ti^iJax,? ^ () Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these ' \^ wars. -^^^^^^^^Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to ^ eat it : he is a very valiant trencher-man ; he iU^^^ hath an excellent stomach. 5^ ^fftA^ Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. ; 0L^ Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ; but what is he to a lord ? ABOUT NOTHING Act I. Sc. i. Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honourable virtues. Beat. It is so, indeed ; . he is no less than a stuffed man : but for the stuffing, — well, we are all mortal. Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Bene- 60 dick and her : they never meet but there 's a skirmish of wit between them. Beat. Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last / 1 c onflict four of his five wits went halting off , ^P* r^ and now is the whole man governed with one : so ^iQfuJLM, that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, »)cauMA*4.^fu let him bear it for a difference between himself ^*^ and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he vU*^<».^ti*ai hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. '^ Jkuircu*-^ Who is his companion now? He hath every ^t/4/,'luiu month a new sworn brother. ^j UuLOuU Mess. Is 't possible ? ^^ Beat. Very easily possible : he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat ; it ever changes with the next hXozVt*^^^^^ jjs^ MuLfiUjLfj ^k© • Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in Y^u^^^^ books. ^ ^ Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young ^f^rpr ^n^w that will make a 80 voyage v^ith him to the devil ? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease : he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the \ 27 R^ Act I. Sc. i. MUCH ADO taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio ! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere a' be cured. Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady. Beat. Do, good friend. 90 Leon. You will never run mad, nig ce. Beat. No, not till a hot January. Mess. Don Pedro is approached. Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Claudio, Benedick, and Balthasar. D. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble : the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the like- ness of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. J X) ^^^ D. Pedro. You embrace your cnarge too willingly. I think this is your daughter. Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a D. Pedro. You ha^teit full, Benedick : we may guess by ^i|^^5^yoj^e^ being a man. i ruly, the Jady Tamers nyerse irr Be happy, lady ; no for you are like an honourable father. Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Mes- sina, as like him as she is. 28 ABOUT NOTHING Act I. Sc. i. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick: nobody marks you. Bene, What, my dear Lady Disdain ! are you yet living ? Beat. Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? 120 Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence. Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you exce pted : and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart ; for, truly, I loveAione. - Beat. A '^eSrhappitiess to worn e n -.uihey would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that : I had rather hear my dog bark 130 at a crow than a man swear he loves me. Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind ! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a pre- destinate scratched face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were. Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your 140 tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i' God's name ; I have done. Beat. You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old. D. Pedro, That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend 29 Act I. Sc. i. MUCH ADO Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month ; and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but 150 prays from his heart. Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be for- sworn. [To Don John] Let me bid you wel- come, my lord : being reconciled to the p'r'mce your brother, I owe you all duty. D. John. I thank you : I am not of many words, but I thank you. Leon. Please it your Grace lead on ? D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato ; we will go to- gether. [Exeunt all except Benedick and Claudio. 160 Claud. Benedick, didst th ou note the daughter of Signior Leonato ? Bene. I noted her not; but I looked on her. Claud. Is she not a modest young lady? Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should C ^;o^4.tl do, for my simple true judgement? or would ^.*€lt3 ^ you have me speak after my custom, as being a *^ > ^ professed tyrant to their sex? ^ Claud. No; I pray thee speak in sober judgement. 170 Bejte. Why, i' faith, methinks she 's too low for a ' ■ ^ high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too cy»^f^^^, little for a great praise: only this commenda- tion I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no i*^- other but as she is, I do not like her. Claud. Thou thinkest I am in sport : I pray thee tell me truly how thou likest her. 30 ABOUT NOTHING Act I. Sc. i. Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her? I 80 Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? (l) OZjl^ ^^ Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak^^ ijtAjuif^CCL you thi* with a sad bro^- ? or do you play the/r U ",^ n g^'fga rMf^Cupid is a ^oo<^are-^^^^'/^*^ findfrj nnd Vulcan a rare carpenter ? Come, in ^^^^*^ "^*^ what key shall a man take you, to go in the song ? ^^^_^ ^ yuL« Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that U ever I looked on. Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter : there 's her cousin, an she were 190 not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much jp in beauty as the _first of May doth the last of ''^^^~ December. But I hope you have no intent to r-' turn husband, have you? Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. Bene. Is 't come to this ? In faith, hath not the , ^ i^ world one man but he will wear his, cap \vith - '" ^suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again ? Go to, i' faith ; an thou wilt 200 needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and ^gh away Sunday s. ^^^^ > CB^jea^-utfOu' Don Pedro is returned to seek you. j2JtSiJu^tXjLiAf6^^ ^ Re-enter Don Pedro. r<^'iYZ^fLtJ^ D. Pedro. What secret hath*1^1d jtw hefe, that you^^/r*-* *^ '•** followed not to Leonato's ? /L^"^^/^^ Bene. I would your Grace would constrain me to .^^^t^^J tell. j:^^i^ * D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. " ^^ 31 Act I. Sc. i. MUCH ADO Bene. You hear, Count Claudlo; I can be secret as a dumb man ; I would have you think so ; but, 210 on my allegiance, mark you this, on my alle- giance. He IS in love. With who ? now that is your Grace's part. Mark how short his answer is ; — With Hero, Leonato's short daughter. Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. Bene. Like the old tale, my lord : ' it is not so, nor 'twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.' Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. 220 D.Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy. ^£^^^^ ,iuA &- eeZtA,.,,^ Claud. You speak this to fetchmein, my lord, [j^ D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. Claud. That I love her, I feel. D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, 230 nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at the stake. D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will. Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her ; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks : but that I will have a recheat 240 32 -/ui>ou^ ^tficiuNi ABOUT NOTHING Act I. Sc. i. winded in my fpr^^d, or hang my bugle in an invisible bSlanCTc . all' women ' shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will ck* myself the right to trust none ; and th e ^ne nff^f^ me which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor. D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord ; not with love : prove that ever I lose 250 more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad- maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a \ 1^ V<[j Isdulx. to when I have stomach, and wait for no man's ^j^jjijj/^jj^j^^eftifi leisure ; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on --^"^ no marL'shusiness ; laugh when I am merry, m. and cI^_TTb man in his humour. Con. Yea, but you must not make the full shg^w of this till you may do it without c^mmn^fm You 20 have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace ; where it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself: it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. ^^.< >/"jl *f ^ ^^^^»*^ ^^^ ^ ^ '*^*^' D. John. I had rather be a cSoKerinahedge than ^ IjtJLujuuudh- r ose m his grace ; and it better fits my blood to uy0^ n\'^^ be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to -^ ^ rob love from any: in this, though I cannot be 30 said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealin^villain. i.^^'^^ " -zQ A A»Aj^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^ muzzle, ^nd ^franchlsey^\^^ry^ clog ; ffiereTore I have decreed not to sing in Act I. Sc. iii. MUCH ADO my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite ; if I had my Hberty, I would do my liking : in the meantime let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. Con. Can you make no use of your discontent ? D. John. I make all use of it, for I use it only. 40 Who comes here? Enter Borachio. What news, Borachio? Bora. I came yonder from a great supper : the prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. D. John. Will it serve for any model to build mis- chief on? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. D.John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio ? 50 Bora. Even he. D.John. A proper squire! And who, and who? which way looks he? Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of • Leonato. cc66/z^ft^^ 20 Beat. Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God's sending that way ; for it is said, ' God sends a curst cow short horns ' ; but to a cow too curst he sends none. Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. Beat. Just, if he send me no husband ; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morn- ing and evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face: I had rather 30 lie in the woollen. Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard. Beat. What should I do with him ? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentle- woman ? /He that hath a beard is more than a youth ; and lie that hath no beard is less than a man : and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am odfrnxArn'O not for him : ^ tnerefore I will even take s ix _ iru^ f^Jk^M^ apes into he lLj l^gtjO Leon. Well, then, go you into hell? ^^^^ Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil j^ meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his ^J^'^' head, and say ' Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get ^4Lc^' you to heaven ; here 's no place for you maids ' : x^ocMlk*Mf», so deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter jfM^ftuta^ pence m ear n£^ st of the bear-ward, and lead his 40 ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. i. for the heavens ; he shows me where the bache- lors sit, and there Uve we as merry as the day is long. Jut. [To Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be 50 ruled by your father. Beat. Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make courtesy, and say, ' Father, as it please you.* But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a hand- some fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say, ' Father, as it please me.' Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be 60 overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? to make ^^a^CQimtA)f her life to a clod of way- ward^^^^f^^^Sr^^cle, I '11 none : Adam's sons are my brethren ; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you : if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer. Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be noi wooed in good time : if the prince be 70 too ^ii^^^M£i,t e(r mm there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the answer. For, hear me. Hero : wooing^d^, and^r^entW^ ^ ■ as a Scotch jig, a. me^affprnr^cmc^^ jo \ the first suit is hot and hasn', like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical ; the wedding, mannerly- modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry ; and then comes repentance, and, with his bad 41 dL^>^ y Act II. Sc. i. MUCH ADO legs, falls into the cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink a-pace into his grave. 80 Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good eye, uncle ; I can see a church by daylight. Leon. The revellers are entering, brother: make good room. [All put on their masks. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others, masked. ^^^■^^*^. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your l^ji^^ Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say QjjQgfj^ nothing, I am yours for the walk ; and especially when I walk away. 90 f-^ • D. Pedro. With me in your company ? 5*^3^ Hero. I may say so, when I please. D. Pedro. And when pl^ase^ou to say so ? Jlwl^vfi Hero. When I like youvmimxr;foT God defend the ^ lute should be like Ihe case ! /'fgjg^g^^^R' Pedro. My visor is jrhilemon's roo f ; within the . /^ ' house is Jove. u/^ Hero. Why, then, your visor should be thatched. (e^'i^ Z). Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. [Drawijig her aside. Balth. Well, I would you did like me. 100 ^^^' Marg. So would not I, for your own sake; for I rgxiuj \v3cs[^ many ill qualities. ^n Balth. Which is one? Marg. I say my prayers aloud. *^|^^7^ Balth. I love you the better: the hearers may cry, l/i Amen. 42 t4^^^ ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. i. \ Marg. God match me with a good dancer ! Balth. Amen. Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done! Answer, clerk. no Balth. No more words : the clerk is answered. Urs. I know you well enough ; you are Signior An- tonio. Ant. At a word, I am not. Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head. Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were the very man. Here 's his dry hand up and down : you are he, you are he. Ant. At a word, I am not. 120 Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he : graces will appear, and there 's an end. Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? Bene. No, you shall pardon me. Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are ? Bene. Not now. Beat. That I was disdainful^ndijiat I ha^ rav good wit out of the ' HugSlfex^s-^*^^! this was Signior Benedick that said so. Bene. What's he? Beat. I am sure you know him well enough. Bene. Not I, believe me. Beat. Did he never make you laugh? Bene. I pray you, what is he? Beat. Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool ; only his gift is in devising impossible 43 >»-&^ Act 11. Sc. i. MUCH ADO slanders : none but libertines delight in him ; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in 140 his villany ; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laughatlu^ and beat him. I am sure he is in the ne|t: J^ would he had ^b^S^me^ Bene. When I know the gentleman, I '11 tell him what you say. Beat. Do, do ; he '11 but break a comparison or two on me ; which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there 's a partridge wing saved, for the fool 150 will eat no supper that night. [Miisic.^ We must follow the leaders. Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Dance. Then exeunt all except Don John, Borachio, and Claiidio. D. John. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. Bora. And that is Claudio : I know him by his bear- 160 D. John. Are not you Signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well ; I am he. D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love ; he is enamoured on Hero ; I pray you, dissuade him from her; she is no equal for his birth : you may do the part of an honest man in it. Claud. How know you he loves her ? 44 ♦ ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. i. D, John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora, So did I too; and he swore he would marry 170 her to-night. D. John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt Don John and Borachio. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so ; the prince wooes for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love : Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues ; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent ; for beauty is a witch, 180 Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore. Hero ! Re-enter Benedick. Bene. Count Claudio? Claud. Yea, the same. Bene. Come, will you go with me? Claud. Whither? Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own busi- ness, &mfl^. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an usurer's 190 chain ? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prinoe hath got your Hero. Claud., I wish him joy of her. ^^^^^_^ ^^g^^^^ )^<^X^ Bene. \ yhy, that 's spoken like an honest drovier ; so /^. /A^ they sell bullo cks. But did you think the prince _,— would have served you thus ? 45 Act II. Sc. i. MUCH ADO* Claud. I pray you, leave me. BeneAHol now you strike like the blind man ; 'twas t,ai^ Mf .ej r the boy that stole your meat, and you '11 beat the 200 .^''^^ Ipost. Claud. If it will not be, I '11 leave you. [Exit. Bene, Alas, poor hurt fowl ! now will he creep into sedges. But, that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me ! The prince's fool ! Ha? It may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out. 210 Well, I '11 be revenged as I may. Re-enter Don Pedro, D. Pedro. Now, signior, where 's the count ? did you see him ? Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady U^ Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a ' ^ lodge in a warre n : I told him, and I think I told UjumjUlS hi"^ true, that your grace had got the good will \jffJ[i((Lj^jijQjfP^ this young lady ; and I offered him my com- vaC^o "P^^y to a- willow-tree, either to make him a gar- land, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, 220 ^^^^^^^*'" as being worthy to be whipped. (^ D. Pedro. To be whipped ! What 's his fault ? Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy, who, being overjoyed with finding a birds' nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it. D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? The transgression is in the stealer. 46 ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. i. Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too ; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might 230 have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen hi-s birds' nest. D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore , them to the owner. Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. D. Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you : the gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you. Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of a 240 block! an oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her ; my very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince's jester, that I was duller than a great^-^^ A^jJU thaw; huddling jest upon jest, with such im; ^ c£aA""^* possible co nveyanc e, upon me, th aL^ stood li ke -Oaji^ a'^man at'T^ark, with a whole army shootin g yf#*5r< ^at me . !She speaks poniards, and every word ^ ^ stabs : if her breath were as terrible as her ter- 250 minations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed : sji e^w.ould have made Herrnles have turned spit T^ ^*^'*'*^ yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not^of he^ you shall find her theiflimiat*i^e m good apparel. I would ^o ^^fi_^jf^g^^Qg^ GoQ some scholar would conjure he r: for cer- jhf cSkc^ • tainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet 26(ir Jlat^ 47 lo^A^ 4uu0^ Act II. Sc. i. MUCH ADO in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, in- deed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation fol- lows her. D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. Re-enter Claudio, Beatrice, Hero, and Leonato. Bene. Will your Grace commanarne any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest er- rand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on ; I will fetch you a tooth-picker ■BfjoiAj-Q^^^ now from the furthest inch of Asia ; bring you r jj the length of yrester John's f o pt ; fetch you a 270 TiXiCC^iy hair off the ^eat Cham's beard ; do you any ^i^^^-^Oji^ . embassage tc Pthe Pigmie s ; rather than hold '^ ^J'tuoactthv^Q words' conference with this harpy. You / /) have no employment for me? n D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. Bene. O God, sir, here 's a dish I love not : I cannot *'Ullt0Cilk^ endure my Lady Tongue. \Exit. ^(^i4^ D.Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed, mv lord, .he lenUit me awhile; and I 280 gave him u?e_f or It^aQOuble heart for his single 0- one: marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it. D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. 48 ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. i. D. Pedro. Why, how now, count ! wherefore are you 290 sad? Claud. Not sad, my lord. D, Pedro, How then ? sick ? Claud. Neither, my lord. Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, ju«£»* nor well ; ] ; )ut civil count, civil as an orang e/^^^*^** and something of that jealous cornplexion. ^^ -' '" ^ D. Pedro. V faith, lady, I think yomtM^^ff^'^ true : thyiJigh, I '11 be sworn, if he be so, his ^m^W? laTse. Here, Claudio, I have wooed 300 in thy name, and fair Hero is won : I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained: name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy! Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes : his Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it. Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue. Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy : I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, 310 as you are mine, I am yours : I give away my- self for you, and dote upon the exchange. Beat. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. /^^ ttuu Beat Yes., my lord.; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps ^^^jx^J^ia C^X ^the windy^ ^aiiig^of care. My cousin tells ^<^ ^^^,^^^^ him m his ear that he is in her heart. Q /^ ^ Claud. And so she doth, cousin. ^^^/T^uJ Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every /^^jj^ x 49 JK^d^ Act II. Sc. i. MUCH ADO one to the world but I, and I am sun-burnt ( I may sit in a corner, and cry heigh-ho for a husband ! D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. Beat. I would rather have one of your father's get- ting. Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you ? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. Z). Pedro. Will you have me, lady ? 330 Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for w^orking-days : your Grace is too costly to wear every day. But, I beseech your Grace pardon me: I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. D, Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you ; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried ; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I 340 born. Cousins, God give you joy! Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. By your Grace's pardon. [Exit. D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. Leon. There 's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord : she is never sad but when she sleeps ; and not ever sad then ; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of un- 350 happiness, and waked herself with laughing. D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a hus- band. so ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. i. Leon. O, by no means : she mocks all her wooers out of suit. D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad. D. Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go to church ? 360 Claud. To-morrow, my lord : time goes on crutches till love have all his rites. wi Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence I a just seven -night; and a time too brief, too, to j have all things answer my mind. — — ' D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing: but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours ; which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the 370 Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other. I would fain have it a match ; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings. Claud. And I, my lord. D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero ? Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help 380 my cousin to a good husband. D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefuUest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him ; he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how 51 Act II. Sc. ii. MUCH ADO to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, 390 Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt, Scene II. The same. Enter Don John and Borachio. D. John. It is so ; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. Bora. Yea, my lord ; but I can cross it. D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him ; and whatsoever comes athwart his affec- tion ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? Bora. Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. 10 D. John. Show me briefly how. Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the wait- ing gentlewoman to Hero. D. John. I remember. Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's charnber window. 52 ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. ii. D, John. What life is in that, to be the death of this Bora. The poison of that Hes in you t o tempe nUo ^^/ you to the prince your brother ; spare not to tell him that he hath wronged his honour in marry- ing the renowned Claudio — whose estimation do you mightily hold up — to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. D. John. What proof shall I make of that ? Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue ? 30 D. John. Only to despite them I will endeavour any thing. Bora. Go, then ; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone: tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as, — in love of your brother's honour, who hath made this match, and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid, — that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial : 40 offer them instances ; which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-win- dow ; hear me call Margaret, Hero ; hear Mar- garet term me Claudio; and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wed- ding, — for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent, — and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's dis- loyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance and all the preparation overthrown. 50 53 Act II. Sc. iii. MUCH ADO D, John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the work- ing this, and thy fee is a thf5usand ducats. Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. D, John. I will presently go learn their day of mar- riage. [Exeunt. Scene III. Leonato's orchard. Bene. Boy! Enter Benedick. Enter Boy. Boy. Signior? Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book: bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. I am here already, sir. Bene. I know that; but I would have thee hence and here again. [Exit Boy.^ I do much won- der that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shal- lo low follies in others, become the a^^^^it of his own scorn by falling in love : and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife ; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe : I have known when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a good armour ; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier ; 2 j 54 ABOUT NOTHING Act II^§c. iii. n and now is he turned orthograph y ; his words are a very fantastical banquet, — just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes ? I cannot tell ; I think not : I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster ; but I '11 take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One w^oman is fair, yet I am well ; another is wise, yet I am well ; another virtuous, yet I am well : but till all graces be in 30 one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that 's certain ; wise, or I '11 none ; virtuous, or I '11 never cheapen her ; fair, or I '11 never look on her ; mild, or come not near me ; noble, or not I for an angel ; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha ! the prince and Monsieur Love ! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdrazvs. Enter Don Pedro, Claiidio, and Leonato. D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music ? Claud. Yes, my good lord. How still the evening is, 40 As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony ! D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself ? Claud. O, very welLmv Ipr^^^the music ended, We '11 fit the k^PMcTvuW a pennyworth. EnWr^althasof with Music. D. Pedro. Come, Balthasar, we '11 hear that song again. Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander music any more than once. D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency 55 Act !I. Sc. iii. • MUCH ADO _To put a strange face on his own perfection. I pray tliee, sing, and let me woo no more. 56 Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes, Yet will he swear he loves. D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come ; Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument. Do it in notes. Balth. Note this before my notes ; There 's not a note of mine that 's worth the noting. D. Pedro. Why, these are very crochets that he speaks ; Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing. [Air. Bene. Now, divine air ! now is his soul ravished ! Is 60 it not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all 's done. The Song. Balth. 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 moe, ^jOi dumps so dull and heavy; The fraud of men was ever^soy Since summer first was le" Then sigh not so, &c. 56 70 ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. iii. D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. D. Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith ; thou singest well enough for a shift. 80 Bene. An 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, dost thou hear, Balthasar ? 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. 90 D. Pedro. Do so : farewell. [Exit Balthasar.] Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick?^ ^ ^ ^ P^^^^^Cc^ UluIuCU^ Claud. P, ay: s talK on, stalk on; iW fowl^ its. I a a. n/l ^ did never think that lady would have loved any ' man. Leon. No, nor I neither ; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever 100 to abhor. Bene. Is 't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an en- raged 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 was never coun- 57 £mji>x-^ Act II. Sc. iii. MUCH ADO terfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. no D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she ? Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. 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 in- vincible against all assaults of affection. Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; espe- cially against Benedick. 120 Bene. I should think this a gull, but that the white- bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. Claud. He hath ta'en the infection : hold it up. 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?' 130 Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him ; for she '11 be up twenty times a night ; and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all. 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? 140 58 ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. iii. Claud. That. Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thousand half- pence ; 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, curses ; ' O sweet Benedick ! God give me pa- tience!' 150 Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard 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 make but 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 160 of all suspicion, she is virtuous. Claud. And she is exceeding wise. D. Pedro. In every thing but in loving Benedick. 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 ^MJ^S^^ff *^ ^^^^ '^2^^^ *^" me: I would have d^afffcTaTrother respects, and 170 made her half myself. I pray you, tell Bene- dick of it, and hear what a' will say. 59 Act II. Sc. iii. MUCH ADO Leoyi. 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. D, Pedro, She doth well : if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he '11 scorn it; jEor i8o the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible' ''"* spirit. , . . : „.- ^ ^ Claud. He is a very prop er man. ^^^aXax ' D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness. Claud. Before God ! and in my mind, very wise. D. Pedro. He doth indeed show some sparks that arc like wit. Claud, And I take him to be valiant. -Dt Pedro, As Hector, I assure you : and in the man- aging of quarrels you may say he is wise; for 190 either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear. Leon. If he do fear God, a' 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 seek Benedick, and tell him of her love ? 200 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. 60 ABOUT NOTHING Act II. Sc. iii. D. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love Bene- dick well ; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is un- worthy so good a lady. L.eon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. 210 Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. D. Pedro, Let there be the same net spread for her ; and that must your daughter and her gentle- women 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. [Exeunt Don Pedro, Claiidio, and Leonato. Bene. [Coming forz^qrd'] Thj^^anjje npj:rlck: the 220 conference ■ w as Jskdly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity ; -«^^^a/v« the lady : it seems her affections have their full ' , ,^ . r; r^ bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear --^ myself p rou dly, if I perceive the love come from ^^ "is*'^'^^ her ; they say too that she will rather die than | ^ ^^^^^ give any sign of affection. I did never think to • \J ""T^ marry : I must not seem proud : happy are they '. that hear their detractio ns, and can put them to 230 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 61 Act II. Sc. iii. MUCH ADO 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 240 cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sen- tences 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. Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. 250 Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me : if it had been pain- ful, I would not have come. Bene. You take pleasure, then, 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 in to dinner ' ; there 's a double meaning in that. ' I took no more pains for those thanks 260 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. ABOUT NOTHING Act III. Sc. i. ACT THIRD. %^^ ^/ ■-Scene I. ^^^-M^^^ ^ ^"f^ 3i\ ^(if Leonato's orchard. eilvj**^^ c{ ife^i^^^*^ ^ 'Enter Hero, Margaret, and Urstda. >tsAy*^ Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour ; fj There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice TtUWU ^ -. Proposing with the prince and Claudio : J^ . J^SljJiV>^ Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula ij^^ Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse S''^-^*'^^' ^^% 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 lo 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 '11 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 20 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; 63 liJl<^^ Act III. Sc. i. MUCH ADO . eo For look where Beatrice, like a ^apwino f, runs _^ t/ Close by the ground, to hear our conference. Jn/jj^^ Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish JjJaj/^ Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, '^^^ -/ji . And greedily devour the treacherous bait: So angle we for Beatrice; who even now Is couched in the woodbine coverture. 30 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 hozver. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful ; I know ^n spirits are as coy , and wi4d As haggel Urs. But are you sure That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ? Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothed lord. Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it ; 40 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 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 ; 50 Di^am'aJid scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Mji^frar^^^hat they look on ; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her 64 ABOUT NOTHING Act III. Sc. i. All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared. Urs. 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, 60 But she would spell him backward.; if fair-faced, t^^-'-^-uu. She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; '*^ ^^ If black, why. Nature, drawing of an antique, s4> {H^ju Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; ^k^^ru If low, an agate very vilely cut; ,., ,, -^ If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds ; '-^'A-L^'^b^^^i^^ If silent, why, a block moved with none. '^^sjlOjA a/iu. So turns she every man the wrong side out ; „ ^ ANeuu,ffl-, And never gives to truth and virtue that y . f , * ^ Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. . *m'^^^^A'' Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No, not to bfe 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, Hke cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die Vv^th tickling. 80 IJrs, 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 '11 devise some honest slanders 65 Act III. Sc. i. MUCH ADO 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 judgement, — Having so swift and excellent a wit As she is prized to have, — as to refuse 90 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 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 ? 100 Hero. Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in : I '11 show thee some attires ; and have thy counsel Which is the best to -furnish nie tp-jnorrow. Urs. SnPs mntS TT warrant }^u: wenave 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. Beat. [Coming forzvard] What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true ? ; ^ S^- Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? Jr^Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! no 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 ; 66 ABOUT NOTHING Act III. Sc. ii. For others say thou dost deserve, and I BeHeve it better than ^ei^ii^fy^^'^'^^^^r [Exit, Scene II. 'A room in Leonato's house. Enter Don Pedro, Claudia, Benedick, and Leonato, D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be con- summate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. I '11 bring you thither, my lord, if you '11 vouchsafe me. * D. Pedro. Nay, that v^ould 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 lo 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. 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. 20 Bene. I have the toothache. D. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it! Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it after- wards. ^7 Act III. Sc. ii. MUCH ADO D. Pedro. What ! sigh for the toothache ? Leon. Where is but a humour or a worm. Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. 30 D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange dis- guises ; as, to be a Dutchman to-day, a French- man to-morrow; or in the shape of two coun- tries at once, as, a German from the waist down- ward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appear^ he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is. Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there 40 is no believing old signs : a' brushes his hat o' mornings ; what should that bode ? D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls. . Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the ^MjUuJ^ ^oss of a beard. ^ ^^ D. Pedro. Nay, a' rubs himself with civet : can you &j^ smell him out by that ? 50 J5^ Claud. That 's as much as to say, the sweet youth 's ^MJf in love. \t 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 68 ABOUT NOTHING Act III. Sc. ii. creot into a lute-string, and now gaverned bv D, Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him : 60 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. Perdo. She shall be buried with her face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words^to speaic to you, which 70 these h^^m0^mim^r. [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 ! D. Pedro. Good den, brother. D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak with 80 you. D. Pedro. In private ? IJ. John. If it please you : yet Count Claudio may hear ; for what I would speak of concerns him. D. Pedro, What 's the matter ? 69 Act IIL Sc. ii. MUCH ADO D.John, [To Claudia] Means your lordship to be married to-morrow ? D, Pedro. You know he does. D, John. I know not that, when he knows what I 90 know. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you dis- cover it. D. John. You may think I love you not : let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage, — surely suit ill spent and labour ill bestowed. D, Pedro. Why, what 's the matter? 100 D.John. I came hither to tell you; and, circum- stances shortened, for she has been too long a talking of, the lady is disloyal. Claud. Who, Hero? D.John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. Claud. Disloyal? D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness ; I could say she were worse : think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. no Wonder not till further warrant : go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamber-window entered, even the night before her wedding-day : if you love her then, to-morrow wed her ; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. Claud. May this be so ? D. Pedro. I will not think it. D. John. If you dare not trust that yeu see, confess 70 ABOUT NOTHING Act III. Sc. Hi. not that you know : if you will follow me, I will show you enough ; and when you have seen 120 more, and heard more, proceed accordingly. Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. D, John. I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned ! 130 Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting ! D. John. O plague right well prevented! so will you say when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt. Scene III. A street. _> - . Enter Dogberry and Verges with the Watch. Dog, Are you good men and true? f^^J^UOtru Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer (f^ *. Hero. True ! O God ! -^^I^ . , Claud. Leonato, stand I here? „._..__ o^\l^< Is this the prince? is this the prince's brother? "07^^^ Is this face Hero's ? are our eyes our own ? Leon. All this is so : but what of this, my lord? Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter ; And, by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Hero. O, God defend me ! how am I beset ! What kind of catechising call you this ? Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Is it not Hero ? Who can blot that name 80 With any just reproach? 85 Act IV. Sc. i. MUCH ADO Claud. Marry, that can Hero; Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear : upon mine honour, Myself, my brother, and this grieved count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night 90 Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ; Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. D. John. Fie, fie ! they are not to be named, my lord, Not to be spoke of ; There is not chastity enough in language. Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. Claud. O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been, 100 If half thy outward graces had been placed About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart ! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! farewell. Thou pure impiety and impious purity ! For thee I '11 lock up all the gates of love. And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [Hero swoons. Beat. Why, how now, cousin ! wherefore sink you down? no 86 ABOUT NOTHING Act IV. Sc. i. D. John. Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claiidio. Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think. Help, uncle ! Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar ! Leon. O Fate ! take not away thy heavy hand. Death is the fairest cover for her shame That may be wish'd for. Beat. How now, cousin Hero! Friar. Have comfort, lady. Leon. Dost thou look up? Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not? 120 Leon. Wherefore ! ^^ hy, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her ? Could she here deny 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. Grieved I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ? O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? ^3° / A Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? \ ^* Why had I not with charitable hand I \)/-<- Took up a beggar's issue at my gates, \ ki/j^ Who smirched thus and mired with infamy, l , I might have said, ' No part of it is mine ; I ^'^^ This shame derives itself from unknown loins'? j ^a\ But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised, I And mine that I was proud on, mine so much | 87 . W"-*- VJLm4.cO> Act IV. Sc. i. MUCH ADO That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her, — why, she, O, she is fallen 140 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. Sir, sir, be patient. For my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say. Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied ! Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night ? Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 150 Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd ! O, that is stronger made Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron ! Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie. Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears ? Hence from her ! let her die. Friar. Hear me a little ; For I have only been silent so long. And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady : I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions 160 To start into her face ; a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes ; And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire. To burn the errors that these princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool ; Trust not my reading nor my observations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenour of my book ; trust not my age. My reverence, calling, nor divinity, 88 ABOUT NOTHING Act IV. Sc. i. If this sweet lady He not guiltless here 170 Under some biting error. Leon. Friar, it cannot be Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left Is that she will not add to her damnation A sin of perjury; she not denies it: Why seek'st thou, then, to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accused of? Hero. They know that do accuse me ; I know none : If I know more of any man aUve Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, 180 Let all my sins lack mercy ! O my father. Prove you that any man with me conversed At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death ! Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour ; And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. 190 Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her ; if they wrong her honour. The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine. Nor age so eat up my invention. Nor fortune made such liavoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find, awaked in such a kind, Both strength of limb and policy of mind, 89 Act IV. Sc. i. MUCH ADO Ability in means and choice of friends, 200 To quit me of them thoroughly. Friar. Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princes left for dead : Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed ; Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family's old monument Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do? 210 Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf Change slander to remorse ; that is some good : But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth. She dying, as it must be so maintain'd. Upon the instant that she was accused. Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused Of every hearer : for it so falls out. That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, 220 Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio : When he shall hear she died upon his words, The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination ; And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit. More moving-delicate and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 230 go ABOUT NOTHING Act IV. Sc. i. Than when she Uved indeed ; then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest in his liver, And wish he had not so accused her, No, though he thought his accusation true. Let this be so, and doubt not but success Will fashion the event in better shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim but this be levell'd false. The supposition of the lady's death Will quench the wonder of her infamy : 240 And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded reputation. In some reclusive and reHgious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you : And though you know my inwardness and love Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly as your soul Should with your body. Leon. Being that I flow in grief, 250 The smallest twine may lead me. Friar. 'Tis well consented : presently away ; For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. Come, lady, die to live : this wedding-day Perhaps is but prolong'd : have patience and en- dure. [Exeunt all hut Benedick and Beatrice, Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wxpt 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. 260 91 Act IV. Sc. i. MUCH ADO 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 well 270 as you : but believe me not ; and yet I lie not ; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. Beat. Do not swear, and eat it. Bene. I will swear by it that you love me ; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word ? Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee. 280 Beat. Why, then, God forgive me! Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour : I was about to protest I loved you. Bene. And do it with all thy heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha ! not for the wide world. 290 Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. 92 ABOUT NOTHING. Act IV. Sc. i. Beat. I am gone, though I am here : there is no love in you : nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice, — Beat. In faith, I will go. Bene. We '11 be friends first. Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy ? 300 Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kins- woman ? O that I were a man ! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands ; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, — O God, that I were a man ! I would eat his heart in the market-place. Bene. Hear me, Beatrice, — Beat. Talk with a man out at a window ! A proper saying! 310 Bene. Nay, but, Beatrice, — Beat. Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slan- dered, she is undone. Bene. Beat — Beat. Princes and counties ! Surely, a princely testi- mony, a goodly count. Count Comfect ; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake ! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake ! But manhood is melted into cour- tesies, valour into compliment, and men are only 320 turned into tongue, and trim ones too : he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie, and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. 93 Act IV. Sc. ii. MUCH ADO Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swear- ing by it. Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero? 330 Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. Bene. Enough, I am engaged ; I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear ac- count. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell. [Exeunt. Scene IL A prison. ^Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, zvith Conrade and Borachio. Dog. Is our whole dissembly appeared ? Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. Sex. Which be the malefactors? Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner. Verg. Nay, that 's certain ; we have the exhibition to examine. Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be ex- amined ? let them come before master constable. Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name, friend? 10 Bora. Borachio. Dog. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah ? Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. 94 ABOUT NOTHING Act IV. Sc. ii. Dog. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve God? „ ■ Y Yea, sir, we hope. Bora.} ^ Dog. Write down, that they hope they serve God : and write God first ; for God defend but God should go before such villains ! Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than 20 false knaves ; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves? Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you ; but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah ; a word in your ear : sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves. Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none. Dog. Well, stand aside. 'Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down, that they are 30 none? Sex. Master constable, you go not the way to ex- amine : you must call forth the watch that are their accusers. Dog. Yea, marry, that 's the eftest way. Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince's name, accuse these men. First Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's brother, was a villain. Dog. Write down, Prince John a villain. Why, this 40 is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villam. Bora. Master constable, — Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace : I do not like thy look, I promise thee. 95 Act IV. Sc. ii. MUCH ADO Sex. What heard you him say else ? Sec. Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed. Verg. Yea, by mass, that it is. 50 Sex. What else, fellow ? First Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. Dog. O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into ever- lasting redemption for this. Sex. What else? Watch. This is all. Sex. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen 60 away; Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died. Master constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato's : I will go before and show him their examina- tion. . [Exit. Dog. Come, let them be opinioned. Verg. Let them be in the hands — Con. Off, coxcomb! Dog. God 's my life, where 's the sexton ? let him write down, the prince's officer, coxcomb. 70 Come, bind them. Thou naughty varlet ! Con. Away ! you are an ass, you are an ass. Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place ? dost thou not suspect my years ? O that he were here to write me down an ass ! But, masters, remember that I am an ass ; though it be not written down, yet 96 ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. i. forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow ; and, which is more, an officer ; and, which is more, a 80 house-holder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina ; and one that knows the law, go to ; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing hand- some about him. Bring him away. O that I had been writ down an ass ! [Exeunt. ACT FIFTH. Scene I. Before Leonato's house. Enter Leonato and Antonio. 'Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself; And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself. Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ; Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. Bring me a father that so loved his child. Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine. And bid him speak of patience ; 10 Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine. And let it answer every strain for strain. As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, 97 Act V. Sc. i. MUCH ADO In every lineament, branch, shape, and form : If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, Bid sorrow wag, cry ' hem ' ! when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters ; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man : for, brother, men 20 Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give perceptial medicine to rage. Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air, and agony with words : No, no ; 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow. But no man's virtue nor sufficiency. To be so moral when he shall endure 30 The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement. Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ. Leon. I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood ; For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance. Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself ; Make those that do offend you suffer too. 2}.o Leon. There thou speak'st reason : nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is belied ; And that shall Claudio know ; so shall the prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. Ant. Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily. 98 i ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. i. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio. D. Pedro. Good den, good den. Claud. Good day to both of you. Leon. Hear you, my lords, — D. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. Leon. Some haste, my lord ! well, fare you well, my lord : Are you so hasty now ? well, all is one. D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. 50 Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lie low. Claud. W'ho wrongs him ? Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou : — Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword ; I fear thee not. Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear: In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. Leon. Tush, tush, man; never fleer and jest at me: I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As, under privilege of age, to brag 60 What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me. That I am forced to lay my reverence by. And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to trial of a man. I say thou hast beHed mine innocent child ; Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors ; O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, 70 Save this of hers, framed by thy villany ! 99 Act V. Sc. i. MUCH ADO Claud. My villany ? Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. D. Pedro. You say not right, old man. Leon. My lord, my lord, I '11 prove it on his body, if he dare. Despite his nice fence and his active practice. His May of youth and bloom of lustihood. Claud. Away ! I will not have to do with you. Leon. Canst thou so dafif me ? Thou hast kill'd my child : If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. Ajit. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed : 80 But that 's no matter ; let him kill one first ; Win me and wear me ; let him answer me. Come, follow me, boy ; come, sir boy, come, follow me: Sir boy, I '11 whip you from your foining fence ; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I wilL Leon. Brother, — Ant. Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece ; And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man indeed As I dare take a serpent by the tongue : 90 Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops ! Leon, Brother Antony, — Ant. Hold you content. What, man ! I know them, yea. And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple, — Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys, That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander, Go antiquely, and show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst ; And this is all. 100 ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. i. Leon. But, brother Antony, — Ant, Come, 'tis no matter: lOO Do not you meddle ; let me deal in this. D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your pa- tience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death : But, on my honour, she was charged wath nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. Leon. My lord, my lord, — . D. Pedro. I will not hear you. Leon. No ? Come, brother ; away ! I will be heard. Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it. [Exeunt Leonato and Antonio. D. Pedro. See, see ; here comes the man we went to seek. Enter Benedick. Claud, Now, signior, what news ? 1 1 1 Bene. Good day, my lord. D. Pedro. Welcome, signior : you are almost come to part almost a fray. Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth. D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I 120 came to seek you both. Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit? Bene. It is in my scabbard : shall I draw it ? D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side ? Claud. Never any did so, though very many have lOI Act V. Sc. i. MUCH ADO been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels ; draw, to pleasure us. D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. 130 Art thou sick, or angry? Claud, What, courage, man ! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject. Claud. Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross. D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more : 14.0 I think he be angry indeed. Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear ? Claud. God bless me from a challenge ! Bene, {Aside to Claudio] You are a villain ; I jest not: I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sv/eet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. 150 Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. D. Pedro. What, a feast, a feast ? Claud, r faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf's-head and a capon ; the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife 's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too ? Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily. D. Pedro, I 'U tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit 102 ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. i. the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: i6o ' True/ said she, ' a fine httle one.' ' No/ said I, ' a great wit ' : ' Right/ says she, ' a great gross one.' ' Nay,' said I, ' a good wit ' : ' Just,' said she, ' it hurts nobody.' ' Nay,' said I, ' the gentleman is wise ' : ' Certain,' said she, 'a wise gentleman/ ' Nay,' said I, ' he hath the tongues ' : ' That I believe,' said she, ' for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning ; there 's a double tongue ; there 's two tongues.' Thus did she, 170 an hour together, trans-shape thy particular vir- tues : yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said she cared not. D. Pedro. Yea, that she did ; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly : the old man's daughter told us all. Claud. All, all; and, moreover, God saw him when 180 he was hid in the garden. D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head? Claud. Yea, and text underneath, ' Here dwells Benedick the married man ' ? Bene. Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour : you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. IMy lord, for your many courtesies I thank you : I must 190 discontinue your company : your brother the 103 Aci V. Sc. i. MUCH ADO bastard is fled from Messina : you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he ai\d I shall meet : and till then peace be with him. [E.vit. D. Pedro. He is in earnest. Claud. In most profound earnest ; and, I '11 warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee. Claud. Most sincerely. 200 D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit ! Claud. He is then a giant to an ape : but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. D. Pedro. But, soft you, let me be : pluck up, my heart, and be sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled ? Enter Dogberry, Verges, and the Watch, with Conrade and Borachio. Dog, Come, you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you 210 must be looked to. D. Pedro. How now ? two of my brother's men bound! Borachio one! Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord. D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done? Dog. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths ; second- arily, they are slanders ; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified 220 104 ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. i. unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done ; thirdly, I ask thee what 's their offence ; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge. Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. D.Pedro. Who have you offended, masters, that 23 j you are thus bound to your answer ? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood: what 's your offence ? Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine an- swer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who, in the night, overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incensed me to 240 slander the Lady Hero ; how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments : how you disgraced her, when you should marry her: my villany they have upon record; which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accu- sation ; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. D. Pedro. Runs not this speech Uke iron through 250 your blood ? Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it. 105 Act V. Sc. i, MUCH ADO D, Pedro, But did my brother set thee on to this ? Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. D. Pedro. He is composed and framed of treachery : And fled he is upon this villany. Claud. Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I loved it first. Dog. Come, bring away the plaintiffs : by this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the 260 matter: and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. Verg. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too. Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, with the Sexton. Leon. Which is the villain? let me see his eyes. That, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him : which of these is he ? Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me. Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd Mine innocent child? Bora, Yea, even I alone. 270 Leon. No, not so, villain ; thou behest thyself: Here stand a pair of honourable men ; A third is fled, that had a hand in it. I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death : Record it with your high and worthy deeds : 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. Claud. I know not how to pray your patience ; Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself ; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin : yet sinn'd I not 280 But in mistaking. 106 ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. i. D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I : And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he '11 enjoin me to. Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live ; That were impossible : but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here How innocent she died ; and if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, 290 And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night : To-morrow morning come you to my house; And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew : my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that 's dead. And she alone is heir to both of us : Give her the right you should have given her cousin. And so dies my revenge. Claud. O noble sir, Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me ! I do embrace your offer ; and dispose 300 For henceforth of poor Claudio. Leon. To-morrow, then, I will expect your coming; To-night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong, Hired to it by your brother. Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me ; But always hath been just and virtuous In any thing that I do know by her. Dog. Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white 310 107 Act V. Sc. i. MUCH ADO and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed : they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it ; and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath used so long and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake: pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. 320 Dog. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth ; and I praise God for you. Leon. There 's for thy pains. Dog. God save the foundation ! Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. Dog. I leave an arrant knave with your worship ; whicTi I beseech your worship to correct your- self, for the example of others. God keep your Avorship ! I wish your worship well ; God re- 330 store you to health ! I humbly give you leave to depart ; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it ! Come, neighbour. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. Ant. Farewell, my lords: we look for you to-mor- row. D. Pedro. We will not fail. Claud. To-night I '11 mourn with Hero. Leon. [To the Watch] Bring you these fellows on. We '11 talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt, severally. 108 ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. ii. Scene II. Leonato's garden. Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting. Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will you, then, write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty ? Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it. Marg. To have no man come over me ! why, shall I always keep below stairs ? lo Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth ; it catches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman : and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice : I give thee the bucklers. Marg. Give us the swords ; we have bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in 20 the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. Bene. And therefore will come. [Exit Margaret. [Sings] The god of love, That sits above, 109. Act V. Sc. ii. MUCH ADO And knows me, and knows me, How pitiful I deserve, — I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the 30 good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme ; I have tried : I can find out no rhyme to ' lady ' but ' baby,' an innocent rhyme ; for * scorn,' * horn,' a hard rhyme ; for ' school,' * fool,' a babbling rhyme ; very ominous end- 40 ings; no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called 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 go, let me go with that I came ; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul words ; and thereupon I will kiss 50 thee. Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; no ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. ii. and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst 60 thou first fall in love with me ? Beat. For them all together ; which maintained so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? Bene. Suffer love, — a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite 70 it for yours ; for I will never love that which my friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confession : there 's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps. 80 Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question : why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum : therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear wit- ness, is praiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin ? Ill Act V. Sc. iii. MUCH ADO Beat. Very ill. qo Bene, And how do you ? Beat. Very ill too. Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula. Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yon- der 's old coil at home : it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused ; and Don John is the lOO author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently? Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes"; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt. Scene III. A church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and three or four with tapers. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato ? A Lord. It is, my lord. Claud. [Reading out of a scroll.^ Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero that here lies : Death, in guerdon of her wrongs. Gives her fame which never dies. So the life that died with shame Lives in death with glorious fame. . 112 I ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. iii. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. lO Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. Song. Pardon, goddess of the night. Those that slew thy virgin knight; For the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight, assist our moan ; Help us to sigh and groan. Heavily, heavily : Graves, yaw^n, and yield your dead. Till death be uttered, 20 Heavily, heavily. Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night ! Yearly will I do this rite. D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters ; put your torches out : The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us : fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters : each his several way. D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds ; And then to Leonato's we will go. 31 Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed 's Thaa.this for whom we render'd up this woe. [Exeunt, 13 Act V. Sc. iv. MUCH ADO Scene IV. A room in Leonato's house. Enter Lconato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, Friar Francis, and Hero. Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent? Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her Upon the error that you heard debated : But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforced To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, lo Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. [Exeunt Ladies. The prince and Claudio promised by this hour To visit me. You know your office, brother: You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, signior ? Bene. To bind me, or undo me ; one of them. 20 Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her : 'tis most true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The sight whereof I think you had from me,' From Claudio, and the prince : but what 's your will ? Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: 114 ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. iv. But, for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd In the state of honourable marriage : 30 In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. Leon. My heart is with your liking. Friar. And my help. Here comes the prince and Claudio. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, and tzvo or three others. D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince ; good morrow, Claudio : We here attend you. Are you yet determined To-day to marry with my brother's daughter ? Claud. I '11 hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother ; here 's the friar ready. [Exit Antonio. D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what 's the matter. 40 That you have such a February face. So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull. Tush, fear not, man ; we '11 tip thy horns with gold. And all Europa shall rejoice at thee; As once Europa did at lusty Jove, W^hen he would play the noble beast In love. Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low ; And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow. And got a calf in that same noble feat 50 Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. Claud. For this I owe you : here comes other reckonings. Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies masked. Which is the lady I must seize upon? 115 Act V. Sc. iv. MUCH ADO Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she 's mine. Sweet, let me see your face. Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand : before this holy friar, I am your husband, if you like of me. Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife : 60 [ Unmasking. And when you loved, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero ! Hero. Nothing certainer: One Hero died defiled ; but I do live, And surely as I live, I am a maid. D. Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero that is dead ! Leon. Sh^ died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify : When after that the holy rites are ended, I '11 tell you largely of fair Hero's death : Meantime let wonder seem familiar, 70 And to the chapel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? Beat. [Ufimasking] I answer to that name. What is your will? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. Why, no ; no more than reason. Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio Have been deceived ; they swore you did. Beat. Do not you love me? Bene. Troth, no; no more than reason. Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula Are much deceived ; for they did swear you did. Bene, They swore that you were almost sick for me. 80 116 I ABOUT NOTHING Act V. Sc. iv. Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me ? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. Claud. And I '11 be sworn upon 't that he loves her ; For here 's a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. Hero. And here 's another, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. 90 Bene. A rniracle ! here 's our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee ; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. Beat. I would not deny you ; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion ; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consump- tion. Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth. [Kissing her. D. Pedro. How dost thou. Benedick, the married man? Bene. I '11 tell thee what, prince ; a college of w^it- crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. 100 Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epi- gram ? No : if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it ; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee ; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live un- bruised, and love my cousin. no 117 Act V. Sc. iv. MUCH ADO Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends : let 's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We '11 have dancing afterward. 120 Bene. First, of my word ; therefore play, music. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife : there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn. Enter a Messenger, Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow: I '11 devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers. [Dance. Exeunt. i 118 ABOUT NOTHING Glossary, Abused, deceived; V. ii. lOO. Accordant, favourable; I. ii. 13. Adam; alluding to the outlaw Adam Bell, famous as an archer {cp. Percy's Rel- iques) ; I. i. 259. Advertisement, moral instruc- tion ; V. i. 32. Afeard, afraid; II. iii. 153. Affect, love; I. i. 296. Affection, desire; II. ii. 6. After, afterwards ; I. i. 326. Agate; an allusion to the little figures cut in agates, often worn in rings ; a symbol of smallness; III. i. 65. Aim; " a. better at me," form a better opinion of me; III. ii. 95- Alliance ; " Good Lord for al." i.e. " Heaven send me a hus- band," or " Good Lord, how many alliances are form- ing! "; II. i. 321. Alms; " an alms " = a charity ; II. iii. 159. Ancientry, old fashioned man- ners.; II. i. yj. Angel, a gold coin (with pun upon noble and angel, both coins) ; II. iii. 35. Answer; "to your a.," i.e. "to answer for your conduct " ; V. i. 231. Antique, antic, buffoon; III. i. 63. Antiquely, fantastically; V. 1. 96. Apes; a reference to the old superstition that old maids had to lead apes in hell; II. i. 40. Appear itself, appear as a real- ity; I. ii. 20. Apprehension; "professed ap.," i.e. " set up for a wit " ; III. iv. 65. Approved, tried, proved; II. i. 384; IV. i. 45. Argument, subject (for sat- ire) ; L i. 256; proof; II. iii. 235- At a wo;-(i = in a word; II. i. 114. Ate, goddess of Fury and Mis- chief; II. i. 257. Baldrick, belt; I. i. 242. Bear in hand, keep in (false) hope; IV. i. 303. Bear-ward (Quartos, Folios, read berrord ; other eds., bear-herd), bear-leader; II. i. 40. {Cp. illustration.) Beaten; "b. with brains," i.e. mocked; V. iv. 102. Bel; " God Bel's priests " al- ludes to some representation in stained glass of the story of Bel and the Dragon', III. iii. 138. 119 Glossary MUCH ADO From a copper-plate illustrating Lon- don Cries of the time of James I. Below stairs; " shall I always keep below stairs," an ex- pression of doubtful mean- ing; probably = " in the servant's room " ; hence " re- main unmarried " ; V. ii. lo. Bent, tension, straining (prop- erly an expression of arch- ery) ; II. iii. 224; disposi- tion; IV. i. 187. Bills; " set up his bills," i.e. "posted his* challenge, like a fencing-master " ; I. i. 2>7- Bills, pikes carried by watch- men; III. iii. 43. Bills, used quibblingly for (i) bonds, and (2) watchmen's halberds; III. iii. 184. Bird-bolt, a short arrow with a broad flat end, used to kill birds without piercing; I. i. 40. Black, dark-complexioned; III. i. 63. Blazon, explanation; II. i. 298. Block, wooden model for sha- ping hats; I. i. 75. Blood, temperament; I. iii. 28; passion; II. i. 181. Bloods, young fellows ; III. iii. 145. Boarded, accosted; II. i. 144. Books; " not in your books," i.e. " not in your good books " ; I. i. yy. Borrows ; " b. money in God's name," i.e. " begs it " ; V. i. 315. Bottle, a small wooden barrel ; I. i. 257. Brave, becoming, fitting; V. iv. 128. Break, broach the subject; I. i. 309, 326. Breathing ■=■ breathing-space ; II. i. 367. Bring, accompany ; III. ii. 3. Bucklers; " I give thee the b.," i.e. " I yield thee the vic- tory " ; V. ii. 17. By, concerning; V. i. 309. Candle-wasters, those who burn the midnight oil, book- worms ; V. i. 18. Canker, canker-rose ; I. iii. 27. Capon, used as a term of con- tempt ( ? a pun, according to some ^ " a fool's cap on") ; V. i. 155. Carduus; " C. Benedictus," the holy-thistle ; a plant sup- posed to cure all diseases, in- cluding the plague; III. iv. 70. Care killed a cat, an old pro- verbial expression; V. i. 132. 120 ABOUT NOTHING Glossary Career; " in the c," i.e. " in tilting, as at a tournament " ; V. i. 135. Carpet-mongers, carpet- knights; V. ii. 32. Carriage, bearing, deportment ; I. iii. 29. Carry, carry out; II. iii. 215. Carving, modelling, fashion- ing; II. iii. 18. Censured, judged; II. iii. 225. Charge, burden ; I, i. loi ; com- mission, office; III. iii. 7. Cheapen, bid for; II. iii. 2>2>- Cinque-pace, a lively kind of dance; II. i. 74, 79. {Cp. ac- companying specimens.) stir, "the devil to pay"; V. ii. 98. Coldly, quietly; III. ii. 128. Commodity, any kind of mer- chandise; III. iii. 183. Company, companionship ; V. i. 191. Comprehended, blunder for "apprehended"; III. v. 49. Conceit, conception; II. i, 300. Conditions, qualities ; III. ii. 65. Confirmed, unmoved; V. Iv. 17. Consummate, consummated ; III. ii. I. Contemptible, contemptuous; II. iii. 181. From Naylor's Shakespeare and Music. Circumstances; " c. shortened," i.e. " to omit details " ; III. ii. lOI. Civet, a perfume made from the civet-cat ; III. ii. 49. Civil, used quibblingly, with a play upon " civil " and " Se- ville " ; II. i. 296. Claw, flatter; I. iii. 18. Cog, to deceive, especially by smooth lies ; V. i. 95. Coil; confusion. III. iii. 97 ; old coil = much ado, great Controlment, constraint; I. iii. 20. Conveyance; "impossible c," incredible dexterity; II. i. 246. Count Comfect, i.e. " Count Sugarplum," w^ith probably a play upon conte or compte, a fictitious story; IV. i. 316. Counties, counts; IV. i. 315. County, count; II. i. 189, 359. Courtesies, mepe forms of courtesy ; IV. i. 320. 121 Glossary MUCH ADO Courtesy = curtsey ; II. i. 53. Cousins, kinsmen, enrolled among the dependants of great families, little more than attendants ; I. ii. 23. Cross; " broke c," i.e. " broke athwart the opponent's body " (an expression taken from tilting) ; V. i. 139. Cuckold zvith horns; II. i. 43. From Taylor the Water-Poet's tract " The World runnes on Wheeles ..." (1623). Cunning, clever; V. i. 232. Curst, shrewish ; II. i. 20, 21, etc. Daff, put off; V. i. 78. Daifed, put aside ; II. iii. 170. Dangerous, threatening; V. i. 97- Deadly, mortally; V. i. 177. Dear happiness, a precious piece of good fortune ; I. i. 127. Decerns = a blunder for " con- cerns " ; III. V. 3. Defend, forbid; II. i. 94. Defiled (the reading of the Quartos, omitted in the Fo- lio), defiled by slander; V. iv. 63. Deprave, practise detraction; V. i. 95. Difference, used technically; " heraldic differences " dis- tinguish the bearers of the same coat armour, and dem- onstrate their nearness to the representative of the family ; I. i. 6y. Discover, reveal ; III. ii. 92. Discovered, revealed; I. ii. 11. Division, order, arrangement ; V. i. 227. Doctor, a learned person ; V. i. 204. Don Worm (Conscience was formerly represented under the symbol of a worm) ; V. ii. 84. Dotage, doting love; II. iii. 169, 216. Double-dealer, one who is un- faithful in love or wedlock; V. iv. 114. Doublet and hose; " in his d. and h.," i.e. " without his cloak " ; alluding to the cus- tom of taking off the cloak before fighting a duel ; V. i. 202. Doubt, suspect; V. i. 118. Drazv, draw the bow of a fiddle (according to others, draw the instruments from their cases) ; V. i. 128. Drovier = drover ; II. i. 195. Dry hand (a sign of a cold and chaste nature) ; II. i. 118. Dumb-show, a pantomime ; II. iii. 218. Dumps, low spirits ; II. iii. y^. ABOUT NOTHING Glossary Earnest, handsel, part pay- ment ; II. i. 39. Ecstasy, madness; .11. iii. 152. Eftest, quickest (perhaps a bhinder for "deftest") ; IV. ii- 35- Embassage, embassy; I. i. 280. Engaged, pledged ; IV. i. 2>Z^- Entertained, employed; I. iii. 58. Euro pa, Europe (used quib- blingly) ; V. iv. 45-6. Even, plain ; IV. i. 264. Every day, immediately, with- out delay, as the French in- cessammcnt; perhaps " E. to-morrow " = " every day (after) to-morrow " ; III. i. lOI. Excommunication, blunder for " communication " ; III. v. 67. Exhibition; " e. to examine," possibly a blunder for " ex- amination to exhibit " ; IV. ii. 5. Experimental; " e. seal," i.e. " the seal of experience " ; IV. i. 167. Faith, fidelity in friendship ; I. i. yz) honour, pledge; V. iv. 8. Fancy, love; III. ii. 31. Fashion-monging, foppish; V. i. 94- Fathers herself, is like her father; I. i. no. Favour, countenance ; II. I. 94. Fence, skill in fencing; V. i. 75. Festival terms, not in every- day language; V. ii, 41. Fetch me in, draw me into a confession ; I. i. 223. Fine, conclusion ; I. i. 245. Fleer, sneer; V. i. 58. Fleet, company; II. i. 143. Flight, shooting with the flight, a kind of light and well- feathered arrow ; I. i. 38. Flout; " f. old ends," i.e. make fun of old endings of let- ters; I. i. 288. Flouting Jack, mocking rascal ; I. i. 184. Foining, thrusting; V. i. 84. Frame, order, disposition of things; IV. i. 129. Framed, devised; V. i. 71. From, away from ; " f, all fashions," averse to all fash- ions, eccentric ; III. i. 72. Full; "you have it full," i.e. " you are fully answered " ; I. i. 108. Full, fully; III. i. 45. Furnish, to dress ; III. i. 103. Girdle; "to turn his girdle," to give a challenge (alluding to the practice of turning the large buckle of the girdle be- hind one previously to chal- lenging any one) ; V. i. 142. God save the Foundation! (the customary phrase employed by those who received alms at the gates of religious houses) ; V. i. 324. Go in = join with you in ; I. i. 186. Good den, good evening; III. ii. 79. 123 Glossary MUCH ADO Good-year, supposed to be a corruption of goujcre, a disease; used as a mild im- precation; I. iii. I. Go to the world, to marry ; II. i. 321. Grace, favour ; I. iii. 22. Gracious, attractive ; IV. i. 108. Grant; the fairest grant = " the best boon is that which answers the necessities of the case"; I. i. 317. Great Cham, the Khan of Tar- tary; II. i. 271. Guarded, ornamented ; I. i. 286. Guards, ornaments ; I. i. 287. Guerdon, recompense; V. iii. 5. H, i.e. ache; the latter word and the name of the letter were pronounced alike ; III. iv. 53- Haggards, wild, untrained hawks ; III. i. 36. Half-pence, very small pieces; II. iii. 142. From an enp^raving by F, W. Fairholt. Happiness; " outward happi- ness," i.e. "prepossessing ap-' pearance ".; II. iii. 184. Hare-tinder, one skilled to find the hare ; with perhaps a play upon " hair-finder " ; I. i. 184. Head; " to thy head " = " to thy face " ; V. i. 62. Hearken after, inquire into; V. i. 214. " Hcigh-ho for a hundred," the title of an old ballad still ex- tant (cp. III. iv. 51, 52) ; II. i. 323. Height, highest degree; IV. i. 301. High-proof, in a high degree ; V. i. 123. Hobby-horses (used as a term of contempt) ; III. ii. 71. Hold it up, continue it ; II. iii. 124. Holds; "h. you well," thinks well of you ; III. ii. 97. Ho7U, however; III. i. 60. " Hundred Merry Tales," a popular jest-book of the time (included in Hazlitt's Col- lection of Shakespeare Jest- Books, 1864) ; II. i. 130. Important, importunate ; II. i. 71. Impose me to, impose upon me; V. i. 279. In, with ; II. i. 65. Incensed, instigated ; V. i. 240. Infinite, infinite stretch, utmost power; II. iii. 105. In respect of = in comparison with; III. iv. 17. Intend, pretend ; II. ii. 34. In that, inasmuch as ; V. iv. 109. Invention, mental activity ; IV. i. 195. Inwardness, intimacy ; IV. i. 246. lacks (used as a term of con- tempt) ; V. i. 91. 124 ABOUT NOTHING Glossary Just, that is so; II. i. 27. Kid-fox, young fox ; II. iii. 44. Kind, natural ; I. i. 26. Kindly, natural; IV. i. 74. Lapwing, a reference to the habit of the female green plover; when disturbed on its nest it runs close to the ground a short distance without uttering any cry, while the male bird keeps fly- ing round the intruder, ut- tering its peculiar cry very rapidly and loudly, and try- ing, by every means, to draw him in a contrary direction from the nest; III. i. 24. Large, "large jests," broad jests; II. iii. 198. Large, free, licentious ; IV. i. 52. Leap'd, covered ; V. iv. 49. Learn, teach ; IV. i. 30. Lewd, depraved; V. i. 339. Liberal, licentious ; IV. i. 92. Light 0' Love, a popular old dance tune, often referred to; III. iv. 42. Limed, snared as with bird- lime; III. i. 104. Liver (used as " heart " for the seat of love) ; IV. i. 232. Lock, a love-lock; III. iii. 176. Lock; " he wears a key in his ear, and a 1. hanging by it," a quibbling allusion to the " love-locks " worn at the time, and perhaps to the fashion of wearing roses in the ears ; V. i. 316. From a portrait of Christian IV. of Denmark. Lodge, the hut occupied by the watchman in a rabbit- warren ; II. i. 216. Low, short; III. i. 65. Lustihood, vigour; V. i. 76. Luxurious, lustful; IV. i. 41. > March-chick, chicken hatched in March, denoting precoc- ity; I. iii. 56. Marl, a kind of clay ; II. i. 63. Match, mate, marry; II. i. 64. Matter, sense, seriousness ; II. i. 335- Matter; " no such matter," nothing of the kind; II. iii. 217. May, can; IV. i. 265. Measure, used quibblingly in double sense in connection with dance ; II. i. y2. Medicinable, medicinal ; II. ii. 5. Meet with, even with ; I. i. 45. 125 Glossary MUCH ADO Merely, entirely; II. iii. 218. Metal, material ; II. i. 59. Misgovernment, misconduct ; IV. i. 99. Misprising, despising; III. i. 52. Misprision, mistake; IV. i. 186. Misuse, deceive; II. ii. 28. Misused, abused ; II. i. 240. Moe, more ; II. iii. 72. Monument; " in m." = " in men's memory " ; V. ii. 79. Moral, hidden meaning, like the moral of a fable; III. iv. 75. Moral, ready to moralise ; V. i. 30. Mortifying, killing; I. iii. 12. Mountain, a great heap, a huge amount; II. i. 371. Mountanta, i.e. montanta, a term in fencing, " an upright blow or thrust," applied by Beatrice to Benedick; I. i. 30. Near, dear to; II. i. 163. Neighbours; the time of " good n.," i.e. " when men were not envious of one an- other " ; V. ii. yy. New-trothed, newly betrothed; III. i. 38. Night-gown, dressing gown ; III. iv. 17. Night-raven, the , owl or the night-heron ; II. iii. 84. Noncome; "to a n.," probably =: to be non compos mentis ; III. v. 65. Nothing, pronounced much in the same way as " noting " ; hence the pun here on " no- thing " and " no-ting " ; II. iii. 59- Nuptial, marriage ceremony; IV. i. 68. Of, by; I. i. 124. Off, away from; III. v. 9. On, of; IV. i. 138. Only, alone, of all others ; I. iii. 40. Opinioncd, a blunder for " pin- ioned " ; IV. ii. 66. Orchard, garden ; I. ii. 9. Orthography = orthographer, one who uses fine words; II. iii. 21. Out-facing, facing the matter out with looks ; V. i. 94. Over-home, overcome ; II. iii. 152. Pack'd, implicated; V. i. 305. Palabras, i.e. pocas palabras (Spanish) = " few words " ; III. V. 18. Partridge wing (formerly con- sidered the most delicate part of the bird) ; II. i. 150. Passing, exceedingly; II. i. 81. Passion, emotion ; V. i. 22,. Pent-house, a porch or shed with sloping roof; III. iii. 107. Philemon's roof; an allusion to the story of the peasant Philemon and his Baucis, who received Jupiter into their thatched cottage; II. i. 96. 126 ABOUT NOTHING Glossary From an engraving of an old timber- house in the market place at Strat- ford-on-Avon. Piety, Dogberry's blunder for " impiety ' ; IV. ii. 78. Pigmies, a race of dwarfs fabled to dwell beyond ^t0nv^ttj8f U^WSS This curious fanciful representation is reproduced from MS. Bibl. Reg. 17 c 38. Mount Imaus in India ; II. i. 272. Pikes, central spikes screwed into the bucklers or shields, of the i6th century; V. ii. 21. Pitch; "they that touch pitch," etc., a popular proverb de- rived from Ecclesiasticus xiii. I ; III. iii. 60. Pleached, interwoven ; III. i. 7. Pleasant, merry; I. i. 36. Pluck up, rouse thyself; V. i. 205. Possess, inform ; V. i. 287. Possessed, influenced; III. iii. 159- Practice, contrivance, plotting; IV. i. 189. Preceptial; " p. medicine," i.e. " the medicine of precepts " ; V. i. 24. Present, represent; III. iii. 78. Presently, immediately; II. ii. 56. Press; an allusion to the pun- ishment known as the peine forte et dure, which consist- ed of piling heavy weights on the body; III. i. 76. Prester John, Presbyter John, a mythical Christian King of ^'i/tZL. From a MS. (Bibl. Reg. 17 c. 38 of Mandeville of the XVth Cent.) 127 Glossary MUCH ADO India, of whose wonders Mandeville tells us much ; II. i. 270. Prized, estimated; III. i. 90. Prohibit (used amiss by Dog- berry) ; V. i. 22>z- Prolong'd, deferred ; IV. i. 255 Proof ; " your own p.," i.e. " in your own trial of her"; IV i- 45. Proper, handsome ; II. iii. 183 Properest, handsomest; V. i 173- Propose, conversation ; III. i 12. Proposing, conversing ; III. i 3. Push; "made a push at," i.e " defied " ; V. i. 38. Qualify, moderate ; V. iv. 67. Queasy, squeamish ; 11. i. 389. Question; " in q.," i.e. " under trial, subject to judicial ex- amination " ; III. iii. 185. Question = that 's the question ; V. ii. 82. Question, investigation ; V. iv. 6. Quips, sarcasms; II. iii. 241. Quirks, shallow conceits; II. iii. 237. Quit, requite; IV. i. 201. Rabato, collar, ruff; III. iv. 6. Rack, stretch, exaggerate; IV. i. 221. Reasons (punning, according to some commentators, upon " reasons " and " raisins ") ; V. i. 209. From a Monument in Ashford Church, Kent. Recheat, a term of the chase; the call sounded to bring the dogs back; I. i. 240. Reclusive, secluded; IV. i. 243. Redemption, a blunder for "perdition"; IV. ii. 56. Reechy, reeky, dirty ; III. iii. 137. Reformed, Dogberry's blunder for " informed " ; V. i. 260. Remorse, compassion ; IV. i. 212. Render, give back; IV. i. 29. Reportingly, on mere report; III. i. 116. Reprove, disprove; II. iii. 233. Reverence, privilege of age; V. i. 64. Rheum, tears; V. ii. 83. Right; " do me right," give me satisfaction; V. i. 147. Sad, serious; I. i. 183; I. iii. 60; II. i. 348-9. Sadly, seriously; II. iii. 221. 128 ABOUT NOTHING Glossary Salved, palliated; I. i. 315. Saturn; " born under S.," i.e. " of a saturnine or phleg- matic disposition"; I. iii. 11. Scab, used quibblingly for (i) sore, and (2) a low fellow; III. iii. 104. Scambling, scrambling; V. i. 94. Seeming, hypocrisy; IV. i. 56. Self-endeared, self-loving; III. i. 56. Sentences, sententious sayings ; XL iii. 241. Seven-night ; "a just s.," i.e. " exactly a week " ; II. i. 364. Shape of two countries; III. ii. 34- " I am an Englishman, and naked I stand here, Musing in my mynde what rayment I shall were ; For now I will were this, and now I will were that. Now I will were I cannot tell what." (From Borde's ' Boke of the Intro- duction of Knowledge.') Shaven Hercules, probably al- ludes to Hercules, shaved to look like a woman, while in the service of Omphale; III. iii. 139. Shrewd, shrewish ; II. i. 19. Side, long; III. iv. 19. Sigh; " sigh away Sundays," possibly an allusion to the Puritans' Sabbath ; according to others the phrase signifies that a man has no rest at all ; I. i. 202. Slanders, misapplied by Dog- berry for " slanderers " ; V. i. 219. Slops, large loose breeches ; III. ii. 36. Smirched, soiled; III. iii. 139. Smoking, fumigating; I. iii. 59. So, if; II. i. 88. Soft you, hold, stop ; V. i. 207. Sort, rank; I. i. 7; I. i. 33. Sort, turn out ; V. iv. 7. Speed 's, i.e. speed us ; V. iii. 32. Spell; " s. him backward," mis- construe him; III. i. 61. Squarer, quarreller; I. i. 80. Staff, lance ; V. i. 138. Stale, harlot ; IV. i. 65. Stalk, walk, like a fowler be- hind a stalking-horse; II. iii. 95- Start-up, up-start ; I. iii. 66. Stomach, appetite; I. iii. 15. Stops, the divisions on the finger-board of a lute; III. ii- 59- Strain, family, lineage ; II. i. 384. Strain; "strain for strain," i.e. feeling for feeling; V. i. 12. Style (used with a quibble on "stile") ; V. ii. 6. Success, the issue; IV. i. 235. 129 Glosfisary MUCH ADO Sufferance, suffering; V. I. 38. SufUgance, blunder for "suffi- cient"; III. V. 55. Sun-hurnt, homely, ill-fa- voured; II. i. 322. Sure, faithful; I. iii. 69. Suspect, misapplied for " re- spect"; IV. ii. 7Z, 74- Suspicion (i.e. suspicion of having horns under it) ; I. i. 199. Swift, ready; III. i. 89. Taken up, used quibblingly for (i) arrested, and (2) ob- tained on credit ; III. iii. 184. Tale; "both in a tale," i.e. " they both say the same " ; IV. ii. 30. Tax, to censure ; I. i. 44. Teach, to be taught; I. i. 291. Temper, compound, mix ; II. ii. 21. Temporize, make terms ; I. i. 274. Terminations, terms; II. i. 250. Thick-pleached, thickly inter- woven; I. ii. 9. Tickling (trisyllabic) ; III. i. 80. Tire, head-dress; III. iv. 12. To, with ; II. i. 237. Tongues; "he hath the t.," i.e. "he knows foreign lan- guages"; V. i. 166. To-night, last night ; III. v. 33. Tooth-picker — tooth-pick ; II. i. 268. Top; "by the top " = by the forelock; I. ii. 14. Trace, walk ; III. i. 16. Trans-shape, caricature ; V. i. 171. Trial; "to trial of a man," i.e. " to combat, man to man " ; V. i. 66. Trow ^= trow ye, i.e. think ye? III. iv. 56. Truth, genuine proof ; II. ii. 48. Tuition, guardianship ; I. i. 281. Turned Turk = completely changed for the worse ; III. iv. 54- _ Tyrant, pitiless censor; I. i. 168. Unconfirmed, inexperienced; III. iii. 119. Underborne, trimmed, faced; III. iv. 20. Undergoes, is subject to; V. ii. 57- Unhappiness, wanton or mis- chievous tricks; II. i. 351. Untowardly, unluckily; III. ii. 130. Up and down, exactly; II. i. 118. Upon, in consequence of; IV. i. 224. Use, usury, interest; II. i. 281. Used; " hath u.," i.e. has made a practice of; used equivo- cally; V. i. 316. Usurer's chain, an allusion to the gold chains worn by the more wealthy merchants, many of whom were bank- ers; II. i. 190. Vagrom, Dogberry's blunder for vagrant; III. iii. 26. 1.30 ABOUT NOTHING Venice, the city of pleasure- seekers, frequently alluded to as such by Elizabethan wri- ters; I. i. 272. Weak, foolish; III. i. 54. Weeds, garments, dress; V. iii. 30. Windy; "on the w. side of care," i.e. " to windward of care " (the metaphor being from two sailing boats ra- cing) ; II. i. 318. Glossary Wish, desire; III. i. 42. Wit, wisdom; II. iii. 187. With = by; II. i. 61; V. iv. 126. Wits; " five wits," i.e. " the five intellectual powers — common wit, imagination, fantasy, es- timation, memory " ; I. i. 64. Woe, woful tribute; V. iii. 2^. Woo, press; II. iii. 50. Woodcock, fool ; V. i. 157. Woollen, blankets; II. i. 31. Wring, writhe; V. i. 28. 131 MUCH ADO Critical Notes. BY ISRAEL GOLLANCZ. I. i. 216. The English story of ' Mr. Fox ' alluded to here was first written down by Blakeway, who contributed to Malone's Variorum Edition a version of the tale he had heard from an old aunt {cp. Jacobs' English Fairy Tales). II. i. 80. 'sink a-pace' etc.; Camb. Ed. following Q. 'sink into his grave' ', Folio i, Folio 2, 'sinkes'; Capell, ' sink-a-pace' ; so MS. corrector of Collier's Folio. II. i. 215. 'as melancholy as a lodge in a zvarrcn'; the phrase suggests " The daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers," Isaiah i. 8. II. i. 246. ' i7npossible' Theobald, ' impassable.' II. ii. 44. Some editors substitute ' Borachio ' for ' Claudio * in order to relieve the difficulty here, but, as the Cambridge editors point out, " Hero's supposed offence would not be enhanced by calling one lover by the name of the other, . . . Perhaps the author meant that Borachio should persuade her to play, as chil- dren say, at being Hero and Claudio." II. iii. 38. The Folio reads: — 'Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Jack Wilson ' : the latter was probably the singer who took the part of Balthasar. III. ii. 27. ' Where is hut a humour or a worm' ; toothache was popularly supposed to be caused by a worm at the root of the tooth. III. iii. It is an interesting fact that ' Dogberry,' the vulgar name of the dogzvood, was used as a surname as far back as the time of Richard II., and that ' Verges,' a provincial corruption for ver- juice, occurs in an ancient MS. (MS. Ashmol. 38) as the name of a usurer, whose epitaph is given : — " Here lies father Varges Who died to save charges." III. iii. 89. 'Keep your fellows' counsels and your own.' It has been pointed out by students of Shakespeare's legal acquirements 132 ABOUT NOTHING Notes that these words still form part of the oath administered by- judges' m.arshal to the grand jurymen at the present day. III. V. i8. ' Comparisons are odorous.' An elaborate extension of this joke occurs in the old play of Sir Gyles Goosecappe (c. 1603). III. V. 2>7- ' When the age is in, the wit is out' \ a blunder for the old proverbial expression, * when the ale is in, wit is out ' — " When ale is in, wit is out, When ale is out, wit is in, The first thou showest out of doubt, The last in thee hath not been." Heywood's Epigrams and Proverbs. IV. li. Nearly all the speeches of Dogberry throughout the Scene are given to the famous comedian ' Kemp,' those of Verges to ' Cowley.' William Kemp and Richard Cowley are among the ' principall actors ' enumerated in the First Folio. The retention of the names of the actors " supplies a measure of the editorial care to which the several Folios were submitted." Dogberry's speech is assigned to ' Andrew, ' probably a familiar appellation of Kemp, who, according to the Cambridge Edition, often played the part of ' Merry Andrew.' IV. ii. 5. ' we have the exhibition to examine.' Verges' blunder is not quite clear : possibly ' exhibition ' is used in the sense of ' allowance ' or * permission,' otherwise he perhaps means ' examination to exhibit.' V. i. 16. ' Bid sorrow wag, cry "hem"! The Quarto and the first and second Folios read, 'And sorrow wagge, crie hem ' ; Folio 3, 'And hallow, wag, cry hem ' ; Folio 4, 'And hollow wag, cry hem.' Many emendations have been suggested. Ca- pell's ' bid sorrow wag,' is now gener- ally adopted. Johnson proposed ' Cry, sorrow wag! and hem' (' Sorrow wag,' like ' care away,' was probably a proverbial phrase.) One other sugges- tion is perhaps noteworthy: — 'And, sorry wag, cry " hem." ' From a MS. PontiHcale ad usum Ec- clesiae Romanse et Anglicanae. XlVth Cent. 133 Notes MUCH ADO V. i. 315. ' key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it.' V. i. 318. L&nd, for God's sake. V. iii. 21. 'Heavily, heavily'; so reads the Quarto; the Folios, ' Heavenly, heavenly' adopted by many editors. The same error, however, of ' heavenly ' for ' heavily ' occurs in the Folio reading of Hamlet, II. ii. 309. " The slayers of the virgin knight are performing a solemn requiem on the body of Hero, and they invoke Midnight and the shades of the dead to assist, until her death be uttered, that is, proclaimed, published, sorrowfully, sorrowfully" (Halliwell). V. iv. 123. '' there is no staff more revered than one tipped with horn ' ; i.e. having a tip of horn, a horn handle ; there is, of course, a quibbling allusion in the words to the favourite Eliza- bethan joke. 134 ABOUT NOTHING Explanatory Notes. The Explanatory Notes in this edition have been specially selected and adapted, with emendations after the latest and best authorities, from the most eminent Shakespearian scholars and commentators, including Johnson, Malone, Steevens, Singer, Dyce, Hudson, White, Furness, Dowden, and others. This method, here introduced for the first time, provides the best annotation of Shakespeare ever embraced in a single edition. ACT FIRST. Scene I. 23. a badge of bitterness: — In Chapman's version of the loth Odyssey, a somewhat similar expression occurs : " Our eyes wore the same wet badge of weak humanity." This is an idea which Shakespeare apparently delighted to introduce. It occurs again in Macbeth, I. iv. : " My plenteous joys, wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves in drops of sorrow." 54, 55. stuffed with all honourable virtues: — Mede in his Dis- courses on Scripture, speaking of Adam, says, "He whom God had stuffed with so many excellent qualities." Beatrice starts an idea at the words stuffed man, and prudently checks herself in the pursuit of it. A stuffed man appears to have been one of the many cant phrases for a cuckold. 184, 185. to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, etc. : — Do you scoff and mock in telling us that Cupid, who is blind, is a good hare-finder; and that Vulcan, a blacksmith, is a good carpenter? 216-218. Like the old tale, etc. : — In illustration of this pas- sage. Mr. Blakeway has given his recollections of an old tale, which he thinks may be the one alluded to, very like some that we in our childhood have often lain awake to hear and been kept awake with thinking of after the hearing: "Once upon a time there lived a Mr. Fox, a bachelor, who made it his busi- ness to decoy or force young women to his house, that he might have their skeletons to adorn his chambers with. Near ^35 Notes MUCH ADO by dwelt a family, the lady Mary and her two brothers, whom Mr. Fox often visited, they, especially the lady, being much pleased with his company. One day, the lady, being left alone and having nothing else to do, thought to amuse herself by calling upon Mr. Fox, as he had often invited her to do. Knocking some time, but finding no one at home, she at length opened and went in. Over the portal was written, Be bold, be bold, but not too bold. Going forward, she saw the same over the stairway, and again over the door of the chamber at the head of the stairs. Opening this door, she saw at once what sort of work was carried on there. Retreating hastily, she saw out of the window Mr. Fox coming, holding a sword in one hand, and with the other dragging a young lady by the hair. She had just time to hide herself under the stairs before he entered. As he was going up stairs the young lady caught hold of the banister with her hand, whereon was a rich bracelet ; he then cut off her hand, and it fell, bracelet and all, into Mary's lap. She took it, and, as soon as she could, hastened home. A few days after, Mr. Fox came to dine with her and her brothers. As they were entertaining each other with stories, she said she would tell them a strange dream she had lately had. She said, I dreamed, Mr. Fox, that as you had often invited me to your house, I went there one morning. When I came, I knocked, but no one answered; when I opened the door, over the hall was written. Be bold, be bold, but not too bold. But, said she, turning to Mr. Fox and smiling, // is not so, nor it was not so. Then she went on with the story, repeating this at every turn, till she came to the room full of dead bodies, when Mr. Fox took up the burden of the tale, saying. It is not so, nor it was not so, and God forbid it should be so; which he kept repeating at every turn of the dreadful story, till she came to his cutting off the lady's hand ; then, upon his saying the, same words, she re- plied. But it is so, and it was so, and here the hand I have to show, at the same time producing the hand and bracelet from her lap ; whereupon the guests drew their swords, and cut Mr. Fox into a thousand pieces." 236, 237. but in the force of his will: — Alluding to the definition of a heretic in the schools. 257. hang me in a bottle like a cat: — It seems to have been one of the inhuman sports of the time to enclose a cat in a wooden tub or bottle suspended aloft to be shot at. 261. This line is from Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, 1599. 317. The fairest grant is the necessity : — Hayley, with great 136 ABOUT NOTHING Notes acuteness, proposed to read, "The fairest grant is to necessity"; i.e., necessitas quod cogit defendit. The meaning may, however, be, " The fairest or most equitable concession is that which is needful only." Scene III. 12, 13. / cannot hide zvhat I am : — This is one of Shakespeare's natural touches. An envious and unsocial mind, too proud to give pleasure and too sullen to receive it, often endeavours to hide its malignity from the world and from itself, under the plainness of simple honesty or the dignity of haughty independence. 18. claw no man in his humour : — So in Howell's Letters : '' Here it is not the style to claw and compliment with the King." Claw-back occurs in the same sense both as a noun and a verb. Thus Camden says of Queen Elizabeth: "When she often used the saying, That most men neglected the setting sun, these claw- backs ceased not to beat into her ears — Who will neglect the wholesome beams of the clear sunshine, to behold the pitiful sparkling of the smaller stars? " 40. That is, " for I make nothing else my counsellor." 59. smoking a musty room: — The neglect of cleanliness among our ancestors rendered such precautions too often necessary. In Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy: "The smoke of juniper is in great request with u;j at Oxford to sweeten our chambers." ACT SECOND. Scene I. 94, 95. God defend the lute, etc. : — That is, God forbid that your face should be like your mask. 130. 'Hundred Merry Tales': — This was the term for a jest- book in Shakespeare's time, from a popular collection of that name, about which the commentators were much puzzled, until a large fragment was discovered in 181 5, by the Rev. J. Cony- beare. Professor of Poetry in Oxford. It was printed by Rastell, and therefore must have been published previous to 1533. An- other collection of the same kind, called Tales and Quicke An- swer es, printed by Berthelette, and of nearly equal antiquity, was ^Z7 Notes MUCH ADO also reprinted at the same time; and it is remarkable that this collection is cited by Sir John Harrington under the title of The Hundred Merry Tales. It continued for a long period to be the popular name for collections of this sort. 209, 210. puts the -tvorld, etc. : — That is, who takes upon herself to personate the world, and so fancies that the world thinks just as she does. In nearly all modern editions, the base, though hitter, disposition (lines 208, 209) is changed to the base, the bitter dis- position ; probably because the editors could not discover the relation between base and bitter, nor divine that though here means since or because, as often in Shakespeare. 215, 216. a lodge in a warren : — A similar image of loneliness occurs in Measure for Measure : " At the moated grange resides this dejected Mariana." 257, 258. Ate in good apparel: — Upon this passage Warburton remarks, and Collier endorses him, that " the ancient poets and painters represent the Furies in rags." Ate, however, was not a Fury, but the daughter of Jupiter, and goddess of mischief and discord. 269, 270. bring you, etc. : — How difficult this had been, may be guessed from Butler's account of that distinguished John : — "While like the mighty Prester John, Whose person none dares look upon, But is preserv'd in close disguise From being made cheap to vulgar eyes." Scene II. 44. term me Claud io : — So in all the old copies. Theobald thought it should read BoracJiio instead of Claudio ; whereas the expression, term me, infers that a false name is to be agreed upon between the speaker and Margaret. Both Claudio and the Prince might well be persuaded that Hero received a clandestine lover, whom she called Claudio, in order to deceive her attendants, should any be within hearing ; and this they would of course deem an aggravation of her offence. It is hardly worth the while to add, that they would be in no danger of supposing the man, whom Margaret termed Claudio, to be Claudio in fact. 138 ABOUT NOTHING Notes Scene III. [Enter Benedick.] In the original, both Quarto and Folio, the stage direction here is, " Enter Benedick alone " ; in all modern editions till Collier's it is, " Enter Benedick and a Boy." The orig- inal IS probably right, the design being that Benedick shall be seen pacing to and fro, ruminating and digesting the matter of his forthcoming soliloquy. In this state his mind gets so deep in philosophy that he wants a book to feed the appetite which passing events have awakened. Of course the boy comes when called for. i8, 19. carving . . . doublet: — This folly is the theme of all comic satire. In Barnabe Riche's Faults and Nothing but Faults, 1606, " the fashionmonger that spends his time in the contempla- tion of suites " is said to have " a sad and heavy countenance," because his tailor " hath cut his new sute after the olde stampe of some stale fashion that is at the least of a whole fortnight's stand- ing." 36, 37. Iier hair, etc. : — Disguises of false hair and of dyed hair were quite common, especially among the ladies, in Shakespeare's time; scarce any of them being so richly dowered with other gifts as to be content with the hair which it had pleased Nature to bestow. The Poet has several passages going to show that this custom was not much in favour with him; as in Love's Labour's Lost, IV. iii., where Biron " mourns that painting and usurping hair should ravish doters with a false aspect." That in this as in other things Shakespeare's mind went with Nature, further ap- pears from his making so sensible a fellow as Benedick talk that way. 60-62. A similar tribute to the power of music occurs in Twelfth Night, II. iii. 59, 60, where it is spoken of as able to " draw three souls out of one weaver." 95. stalk on: — An allusion to the stalking-horse, whereby the fowler anciently screened himself from the sight of the game. It is thus described in John Gee's Nezv Shreds of the Old Snare: " Methinks I behold the cunning fowler, such as I have known in the fen-countries and elsewhere, that do shoot at woodcocks, snipes, and wild fowl, by sneaking behind a painted cloth which they carry before them, having pictured on it the shape of a horse ; which while the silly fowl gazeth on, it is knocked down with hail-shot, and so put into the fowler's budget." 139 Notes MUCH ADO ACT THIRD. Scene I. 6i. spell him backward: — That is, misinterpret him. An allu- sion to the practice of witches in uttering prayers. In like sort, we often say of a man who refuses to take things in their plain natural meaning, as if he were on the lookout for some cheat, " He reads everything backwards." 76. press me to death: — The allusion is to an ancient punish- ment inflicted on those who refused to plead to an indictment. If they continued silent, they were pressed to death by heavy weights laid on the stomach. 107. What Hre is in mine ears? — Alluding to the proverbial saying, which is as old as Pliny's time, " That when our ears do glow and tingle, some there be that in our absence do talke of us." 113. Taming, etc.: — This image is taken from falconry. She has been charged with being as wild as Jiaggards of the rock ; she therefore says that, wild as her heart is, she will tame it to the hand. Scene II. II. hangman: — That is, executioner, slayer of hearts. 21. the toothache : — So in The False One, by Fletcher : — " O, this sounds mangily. Poorly, and scurvily, in a soldier's mouth ! You had best be troubled with the tooth-ache too. For lovers ever are." 24, 25. hang it first, and draw it afterwards: — Apparently a quibbling allusion to the old custom of "hanging, drawing, and quartering." 34, 35. two countries at once: — So in The Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, by Dekker, 1606 : " For an Englishman's sute is like a traitor's body that hath beene hanged, drawne, and quartered, and is set up in several places : his codpiece, in Denmarke ; the collar of his dublet and the belly, in France ; the wing and narrow sleeve, in Italy; the short waste hangs over a botcher's stall in Utrich; his huge sloppes speak Spanish; Polonia gives him the bootes," etc. 140 ABOUT NOTHING Notes 58. a lutestring : — Love-songs, in Shakespeare's time, were sung to the lute. So in i Henry IV., I. ii. ^i: " A lover's lute." 67. buried with her face upwards: — That is, in her lover's arms. So in The Winter's Tale, IV. iv. 129-132: — Flo. What, like a corse? Per. No, like a bank for love to lie and play on; Not like a corse ; or if, not to be buried But quick and in mine arms. Scene III. {Dogberry and Verges] The first of these worthies is named from the dogberry, a shrub that grows in every county in Eng- land. Verges is the provincial pronunciation of verjuice. 7. give them their charge : — To charge his fellows seems to have been a regular part of the duty of the constable of the watch. So in A New Trick to Cheat the Devil, 1639: " My watch is set — charge given — and all at peace." 176. a' wears a lock : — A lock of hair, called " a love-lock," was often worn by the gay young gallants of Shakespeare's time. This ornament and invitation to love was cherished with great care by the owners, being brought before and tied with a riband. Prynne, the great Puritan hero, spit some of his bile against this fashion, in a book on The Unloveliness of Love-locks. 183, 184. We are like to prove, etc. : — We have the same conceit in 2 Henry VL, IV, vii. 129, 130: "My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside and take up commodities upon our bills? " Scene IV. 19. dozvn sleeves:— Th2it is, with pearls set along down the sleeves. Side sleeves are long, full sleeves. Side is from the Anglo-Saxon sid, long, ample. Peele, in his Old Wives' Tale, has " side slops," for long trousers. So likewise, in Jonson's play, The New Inn, V. i. : — " He belly'd for it, had his velvet sleeves. And his branch'd cassock, a side sweeping gown, All his formalities, a good cramm'd divine." Our word side, in its ordinary use, has reference to the length of the thing to which it is applied. 141 Notes MUCH ADO 53. For the letter, etc. : — For here means because of. Heywood has an epigram which elucidates the identity in pronunciation between the word ache and the letter H : — " H is worst among letters in the cross-row, For if thou find him either in thine elbow, In thine arm or leg, in any degree ; In thine head, or teeth, or toe, or knee ; Into what place soever HT may pike him, Wherever thou find him ache thou shalt not like him." 70, 71. Cardutts Bcnedictus: — The following is from Cogan's Haven of Health, 1595: "This herb, for the singular virtue it hath, is worthily named Bcnedictus, or Omnimorbia, than is, a salve for every sore, not known to the physicians of old time, but lately revealed by the special providence of Almighty God." Scene V. I et seq. What would you, etc. : — " Under ordinary conditions," says Herford, " the discovery must follow at once. Hero would be vindicated before the marriage, and the whole scheme of the drama would dissolve. It was necessary that the discovery should be foreseen when that otherwise too harrowing scene takes place, but that it should not be actually made. This double result is secured by the admirable creations of Dogberry and Verges. Even Coleridge could regard them as somewhat irrelevant figures ' forced into the service ' of the plot, ' when any other less in- geniously absurd watchmen and night constables would have answered the mere necessities of the action.' But the gist of the invention lies just in their being 'ingeniously absurd' in the par- ticular way in which they are. Nothing but their delicious irrele- vance prevents the truth from reaching Leonato in time ; but — * neighbours, you are tedious,' and he hands over the ' two as- picious persons ' who hold his daughter's fate in their hands to the constable's leisurely ' excommunication.' The very figure of Dogberry is reassuring; evil cannot be rampant in a city which he and his ' most quiet watchmen ' sufficiently protect, nor the story finally disastrous to which he contributes a link. It is a part of the irony, grave but not ^t bitter, which underlies the play, that in this community of brilliantly accomplished men and women, it is not by dint of wk but through the blind channels of accident and unreason that the discovery makes its way. 142 ABOUT NOTHING Notes 'What your wisdoms,' as Borachio says, 'could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light.' " 21. the poor duke's officers: — This stroke of pleasantry, arising from the transposition of the epithet poor, occurs in Measure for Measure. Elbow says, " If it please your honour, I am the poor Duke's constable." 38. a world to see : — This was a common apostrophe of admira- tion, equivalent to it is wonderful, or it is admirable. Baret in his Alvearie, 1580, explains "It is a world to heare" by "It is a thing worthie the hearing, audire est operoe pretium." In Caven- dish's Life of Wolsey we have " Is it not a world to consider? " ACT FOURTH. Scene I. 11-13. If either of you know, etc.: — This is borrowed from the marriage ceremony, which (with a few changes in phraseology) is the same as was used in Shakespeare's time. 21, 22. some be of laughing, etc. : — Benedick is in a grammatical state of mind, and here quotes from his accidence. 68. True! O God! — Hero's words are in reply to the speech of Don John. 74. kindly : — Kind is often used in Shakespeare for nature, kindly for natural. So in the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew, i. 66: "This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs." So like- wise in Spenser's Faerie Queene : — " The earth shall sooner leave her kindly skill To bring forth fruit, and make eternall dearth. Than I leave you, my life, yborne of heavenly birth." 123. The story, etc. : — That is, the story which her blushes dis- covered to be true. 250, 251. Of this passage Johnson says: " This is one of Shake- speare's subtle observations upon life. Men, overpowered with distress, eagerly listen to the first offers of relief, close with every scheme, and believe every promise. He that has no longer any confidence in himself is glad to repose his trust in any other that will undertake to guide him." 293. / am gone, though I am here: — That is, though my person stay with you, my heart is gone from you. 143 Notes MUCH ADO ACT FIFTH. Scene I. I et seq. " I step aside for a moment," says Lloyd, " to remark the comic value of the character of Antonio, so often doomed to be neglected and left out. Leonato, at the commencement of the fifth Act, is immersed in grief for the disgrace of his child, but the spectator already knows thafthis grief will speedily be allayed by the publication of her innocence, and the additional knowledge that he is bound to exaggerate consciously the expression of his grief by the pretence of her death, still farther checks the spon- taneousness of our compassion. Sympathy is balked and puzzled, and would rebel in affront, but that the Poet furnishes a fair excuse for the laugh which incongruity invites, by the grotesque comicality of the indignation of Antonio. With like humanity, in the scene where the sleeping Juliet is mourned by her parents as dead, a vent for our importunate sense of absurdity is supplied in the ludicrously exaggerated wailings of the nurse. In the present instance there is great comic truth in the interchange of position by the brothers in the course of the Scene. At the com- mencement Antonio ministers as best he may in the character of moralist and philosopher to the excitement of his brother, and at the conclusion it is he himself who has to be held back and soothed by Leonato, in a violent outburst of passionate abuse." i8. candle-wasters: — The following passage occurs in Ben Jon- son's Cynthia's Revels, IIL ii. : " Heart, was there ever so pros- perous an invention thus unluckily perverted and spoiled by a whoreson book-worm, a candle-waster? " Leonato's whole speech is aimed at those comforters who moralize by the book against our natural emotions ; who would have us drown our troubles in a cup of bookish philosophy. 102. wake your patience : — That is, rouse, stir up, convert your patience into anger, by remaining longer in your presence. 128, 129. bid thee drazv, etc. : — " I will bid thee draw thy sword, as we bid the minstrels draw the bows of their fiddles, merely to please us." 139. broke cross : — It was held very disgraceful for a tilter to have his spear broken across the body of his adversary, instead bf by a push of the point. Thus, in As You Like It, III. iv. 42-44: "As a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose." 144 ABOUT NOTHING Notes 142. to turn his girdle : — Thus Sir Ralph Winwood in a letter to Cecil : " I said, what I spake was not to make him angry. He replied, If I were angry, I might turn the buckle of my girdle behind me." The phrase came from the practice of wrestlers, and is thus explained by Holt White: "Large belts were worn with the buckle before, but for wrestling the buckle was turned behind, to give the adversary a fairer grasp at the girdle. To turn the buckle behind was therefore a challenge." 157. A woodcock was a common term for a foolish fellow; that savoury bird being supposed to have no brains. Claudio alludes to the stratagem whereby Benedick has been made to fall in love. Thus Sir William Cecil, in a letter to Secretary Mait- land, referring to an attempted escape of some French hostages : " I went to lay some lime-twigs for certain woodcocks, which I have taken." The proverbial simplicity of the woodcock is often celebrated by Shakespeare. 228, 229. one meaning well suited: — That is, one meaning put into many different dresses; the prince having asked the same question in four modes of speech. 290. It was the custom to attach, upon or near the tombs of celebrated persons, a written inscription, either in prose or verse, generally in praise of the deceased. 296. she alone is heir to both of us: — It would seem that An- tonio's son, mentioned in I. ii., must have died since the play began. Scene II. 77. the time of good neighbours: — That is, when men were not envious, but every one gave another his due. Scene III. 3. Done to death : — This phrase occurs frequently in writers of Shakespeare's time: it appears to be derived from the French phrase, faire mourir. 13. thy virgin knight: — Knight was a common poetical appella- tion of -virgins in Shakespeare's time; probably in allusion to their being the votarists of Diana, whose chosen pastime was in knightly sports. So in The Two Noble Kinsmen, V. i. : — " O, sacred, shadowy, cold, and constant queen, Abandoner of revels, mute, contemplative, 145 Notes MUCH ADO Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure As wind-fann'd snow, who to thy female knights Allow'st no more blood than will make a blush, Which is their order's robe." Scene IV. 43. the savage hull: — Still alluding to the passage quoted from Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, in the first Scerie of the play. 123, 124. no staff more reverend, etc. : — This passage refers to the staves or walking-sticks used by elderly persons, which were often tipped with horn. Chaucer's Sompnour describes one of his friars as having a " scrippe and tipped staff"', and he adds that " His felaw had a staf tipped with horn." 146 ABOUT NOTHING Questions on Much Ado About Nothing. 1. Mention some facts that help to establish the date of the play. From wiiat Italian sources may some of the incidents have been derived? ACT FIRST. 2. How is it shown in the first Scene that the play will deal with love as a warfare? 3. What unconscious confession does Beatrice make in her in- quiries of the messenger concerning Benedick? 4. Was Benedick loved by women? How does one find it out? 5. How is his speech on the subject answered by Beatrice? 6. What may be assumed as the previous relations of Benedick and Beatrice accounting for their attitudes in the opening Scene? 7. Describe the way Claudio introduces the subject of his love for Hero to Benedick and to Don Pedro. 8. What arrangement is made between Don Pedro and Claudio to further the latter's suit? 9. Concerning Hero's love affair, what blunder is made by Antonio, and how does he support his case? 10. Don John gives what account of himself in the third Scene? Why is his character so definitely drawn thus early in the play? 11. What third version of the Hero intrigue do we gain from Borachio? 12. What lines of action are laid down in the first Act that prove the title of Much Ado? ACT SECOND. 13. What is the dramatic purpose of the dialogue preceding the entrance of the revelers? 147 Questions MUCH ADO 14. Show how It is made apparent that Hero is one ruled by her father. Compare her with Ophelia. 15. What is the character of the scene that follows the dia- logue? 16. Indicate the import of the conversation between Hero and Don Pedro ; between Ursula and Antonio. 17. What impression of Margaret is derived from her interview with Balthasar? 18. Did Beatrice recognize her vis-a-vis in the masked scene? 19. Explain the triple misconstruction in the scene between Don John and Claudio. 20. What important point in the plot is marked by the soliloquy of Claudio? 21. Comment on the spirit of Benedick's reply to Claudio, Sc. i. 195. 22. Your estimate of Claudio as he has so far revealed himself. 23. State the various misunderstandings of the love affair of Claudio and Hero. What single character is following the thread of it with a clear apprehension of the real facts ? 24. Cite from Hamlet an expression similar to Benedick's (line 251) she would infect to the nortJi star. 25. Explain the dramatic significance of the moment when Beatrice says (line 308) Speak, count, 'tis your cue. 26. Where in the play do the words of Beatrice to Hero (line 313) rebound upon herself? 27. Characterize the traits of Beatrice, displayed in the closing parts of the first Scene. 28. What scheme is proposed and agreed to at the close of this Scene? 29. Detail the plot laid to put a blight upon Hero. Who de- vised it? 30. Compare the intellectual qualities of Don John and of lago. 31. Explain the change of attitude of Benedick as shown in the two soliloquies in Sc. iii. How does the device by which Benedick comes to a knowledge of Beatrice's regard for him ally itself with other devices of the rising action? Who is the author of this stratagem? S2. At the close of the Scene, fiow do Beatrice and Benedick exemplify the characters that have been attributed to them? What saves Benedick from a fatuousness similar to that of Malvolio ? 148 ABOUT NOTHING Questions ACT THIRD. S3. Compare the stratagem as wrought by the men on Benedick with that worked by Hero and Ursula on Beatrice. What traits natural to each sex are displayed? What touch of irony in Hero's words ? 34. Compare Beatrice's soliloquy after the practised stratagem with Benedick's. Indicate the comic element of the situation. What indications have we that the stratagem, as concerns Bene- dick, has been effectual ? 35. What temper of mind do you find in Claudio upon the eve of the revelations concerning Hero? 36. Contrast the manner of Claudio and of Don Pedro upon hearing the revelations of Don John, 37. What is the humorous effect of Sc. iii? Indicate its dra- matic purpose. 38. Mention some traits possessed in common by Dogberry and Shallow (Merry Wives). 39. What part in the action do the watchmen play? 40. On what ground were Borachio and Conrade apprehended? What is there essentially comic in this Scene? 41. Account for the mood of Beatrice in Sc. iv. How does Margaret's wit compare with that of Beatrice? 42. On what purpose bent did Dogberry and Verges (Sc. v.) visit the house of Leonato? 43. How does Sc. v. suggest a way by which the tragic con- sequences of the fourth Act might have been averted? 44. Yet is not the development of the plot at this point abso- lutely convincing? Is there an effect here of a postponed climax? ACT FOURTH. 45. Comment on the art with which Shakespeare has made the conduct of Claudio at the altar tolerable from an artistic point of view. 46. What earlier situations are only sketched or reported that might have been brought into the action? 47. What causes Hero finally to swoon? 48. Who among the company believe in her innocence? 49. By what art does Shakespeare bring Benedick and Beatrice to the point of mutual avowal of love? 149 Questions MUCH ADO 50. Comment on the difference between art and nature, using as a basis the long speech that Leonato delivers over the lifeless body of Hero. 51. What expedient is employed to gain time for proving the innocence of Hero? 52. Compare the Friar of this play with that in Romeo and Juliet. 53. What two things demand that the scene of vindication fol- low closely upon the scene of accusation? 54. State the problem that the resolution of the plot has to deal with. ACT FIFTH. 55. What impression do the lamentations of Leonato make upon you? 56. Show how the case of Leonato suggests materials of tragic grief, and yet in actuality falls short of displaying it. 57. Describe the quarrel between Leonato and Claudio. 58. What is the bearing of Claudio in the encounter with Bene- dick? 59. In the banter of Claudio and Don Pedro, what echo is there of an earlier scene? Is this a dramatic expedient? 60. Where else in the last Act do you find use of such an ex- pedient? 61. What art consistent with comedy makes Borachio untie the knot ? 62. Define Dogberry's position in relation to the resolution of the plot. 63. Comment on Borachio's justification of Margaret (lines 307-309). 64. Define the episodic purpose of Sc. iii. 65. Outline the last Scene of the play. 66. Do the repentance of Claudio and Don Pedro, and the for- giveness of Leonato satisfactorily account for the change in the natural conclusion of the story? 67. Account for the happy ending. 68. Has Claudio proved worthy of the great gift that is be- stowed upon him? 69. Comment upon the structural perfection of this play. 70. What about its adaptability to stage representation? ISO ABOUT NOTHING Questions 71. Comment upon its wit. How does it compare, for instance, with that of Measure for Measure ? 72. What change in the tone of social intercourse do we observe between Shakespeare's era and our own? 73. Wherein resides the great charm of Beatrice? What are her splendid womanly qualities? 74. Critics have disagreed as to the probable happy marriage. What is your prophecy? 75. Do you think highly of Benedick? Had he a chivalrous nature? Had he been penetrating, would he not have seen the real drift of Beatrice's persecutions? 76. To what things was Claudio's nature especially sensitive? What were his limitations? yy. Where does Beatrice point out his gravest misdemeanor? 78. Is there any dramatic purpose in creating Hero as one lack- ing in positive qualities ? 79. Estimate the character of Don Pedro; of Borachio; of Margaret. 80. Show the fitness of the title, Much Ado About Nothing. 81. How does the drama differ from the novel in respect to the degree in which mystery may be employed to shroud the true course of events? 82. While dealing with a harrowing episode like the plot against Hero, how does Shakespeare all along convey the feeling that things will come out well? ISI •Vt^v- .IxjTyu, liLotJb Y^^ Vjjh1aujLjUe^ P /U^, '4ccz<^(JL, LUAJcZi