Much Ado About Nothing Page #3

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- A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?

- I heard it agreed upon

that the prince should woo Hero

for himself, and having obtained her,

give her to Count Claudio.

Come! Come, let us thither.

This may prove food to my displeasure.

That young start-up

hath all the glory of my overthrow.

If I can cross him any way,

I bless myself every way.

You are both sure, and will assist me?

To the death, my lord.

Let us to the great supper: their cheer is the

greater that I am subdued.

Would the cook were of my mind!

- Shall we go prove what's to be done?

- We'll wait upon your lordship.

- Was not Count John here at supper?

- I saw him not.

How tartly that gentleman looks. I never can see him

but I am heart-burned an hour after.

He's of a very melancholy disposition.

He were an excellent man

that were made just in the midway

between him and Benedick.

The one is too like an image

and says nothing,

and the other too like my lady's

eldest son - evermore tattling.

Then half Signior Benedick's tongue

in Count John's mouth,

and half Count John's melancholy

in Signior Benedick's face...

With a good leg! And a good foot, Uncle,

and money enough in his purse.

Such a man would win

any woman in the world,

if he could get her good will.

By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband

if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

In faith, she's too curst.

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.

So, by being too curst,

God will send you no horns.

Just, if he send me no husband;

for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees

every morning and evening.

Lord, I could not endure a husband with a

beard on his face. I had rather lie in the woolen.

You may light on a husband

that hath no beard.

What should I do with him?

Dress him in my apparel

and make him my waiting gentlewoman?

He that hath a beard

is more than a youth,

and he that hath no beard

is less than a man.

He that is more than a youth

is not for me.

He that is less than a man,

I am not for him.

therefore, I shall even take

sixpence in earnest of the bear-keeper,

and lead his apes into hell.

- Well, then, go you into hell?

- No, but to the gate.

There will the devil meet me

like an old cuckold,

with horns on his head, and say,

"Get you to heaven, Beatrice.

Get you to heaven.

Here's no place for you maids."

So deliver I up my apes,

and away to Saint Peter for the heavens.

He shows me where the bachelors sit,

and there live we as merry as the day is long.

Daughter, I trust you will be ruled

by your father.

Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty

to make curtsy and say,

"Father, as it please you."

But yet for all that, cousin,

let him be a handsome fellow,

else make another curtsy and say,

"Father, as it please me."

Well, niece, I hope to see you

one day fitted with a husband.

Not till God make men

of some other metal than earth.

Would it not grieve a woman to be

overmastered by a pierce of valiant dust?

to make an account of her life

to a clod of wayward marl?

No, uncle, I'll none:

Adam's sons are my brethren;

and, truly, I do hold it a sin

to match in my kindred.

Daughter, remember what I told you:

if the prince do solicit in that kind,

you know your answer.

The fault will be in the music, cousin,

if you be not wooed in good time:

if the prince be too important,

tell him there is measure in every thing

and so dance out the answer.

For, hear me, Hero:

wooing, wedding, and repenting,

is as a Scotch jig,

a measure, and a cinque pace:

the first suit is all hot

and hasty, 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 legs,

falls into the cinque pace faster and faster,

till he sink into his grave.

Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

I have a good eye, Uncle.

I can see a church by daylight.

The revelers are entering!

Make good room.

Lady, will you walk

about with your friend?

So you walk softly

and look sweetly and say nothing,

I am yours for the walk;

and especially when I walk away.

- With me in your company?

- I may say so, when I please.

- And when please you to say so?

- When I like your favour.

Speak low, if you speak love.

- Well, I would you did like me.

- So would not I, for your own sake;

- for I have many ill-qualities.

- Which is one?

I say my prayers aloud.

I love you the better:

the hearers may cry, Amen.

- God match me with a good dancer!

- Amen!

And God keep him out of my sight

when the dance is done!

No more words:
the clerk is answered.

I know you well enough.

You are my husband.

At a word, I am not.

I know you by the waggling

of your head.

To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

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.

- Will you not tell me who told you so?

- No, you shall pardon me.

- Nor will you not tell me who you are?

- Not now.

That I was disdainful,

and that I had my good wit

out of the Hundred Merry Tales.

This was Signior Benedick

that said so.

What's he?

- I am sure you know him well enough.

- Not I, believe me.

- Did he never make you laugh?

- I pray you, what is he?

Why, he is the prince's jester.

A very dull fool.

His only gift is in devising

impossible slanders.

None but libertines delight in him, and the

commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany;

for he both pleases men

and angers them,

and then they laugh at him

and beat him.

I am sure he is in the fleet.

I would he had boarded me.

When I know the gentleman,

I'll tell him what you say.

Do. Do.

he'll 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 will eat no supper that night.

We must follow the leaders.

Sure my brother is amorous on Hero

and hath withdrawn her father

to break with him about it.

- Are not you Signior Benedick?

- You know me well. I am he.

Signior, you are very near my brother

in his love.

He is enamored 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.

- How know you he loves her?

- I heard him swear his affection.

So did I, too.

He swore he would marry her tonight.

Come, let us to the banquet.

Thus answer I in name of Benedick,

but hear these ill news

with the ears of Claudio.

'Tis certain so.

The prince woos 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 against whose charms

faith melteth into blood.

This is an accident of hourly proof,

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