Much Ado About Nothing Page #5

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have all his rites.

Not till Monday, my dear son,

and a time too brief, too,

to have all things answer my mind.

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' labors,

which is to bring Signior Benedick

and the 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 will but minister assistance

as I shall give you direction.

My lord, I am for you,

though it cost me ten nights' watchings.

- And I, my lord.

- And you too, gentle Hero?

I will do any modest office, my lord,

to help my cousin to a good husband.

And Benedick is not the

unhopefullest husband 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 to humour your cousin,

that she shall fall in love with him;

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,

Cupid is no longer an archer.

His glory shall be ours,

for we are the only love gods.

Go in with me, I will tell you my drift.

It is so; the Count Claudio shall

marry the daughter of Leonato.

Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.

Any bar, any cross, any impediment

will be medicinable to me:

I am sick in displeasure to him,

and whatsoever comes athwart his affection

ranges evenly with mine.

How canst thou cross this marriage?

Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no

dishonesty shall appear in me.

Show me briefly how.

I think I told your lordship a year since,

how much I am in the favour of Margaret,

the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.

I remember. What life is in that,

to be the death of this marriage?

The poison of that lies in you to temper.

Go you to the prince your brother;

spare not to tell him

that he hath wronged his honour

in marrying the renowned Claudio

--whose estimation do you mightily hold up--

to a contaminated stale,

such a one as Hero.

What proof shall I make of that?

Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio,

to undo Hero and kill Leonato.

Look you for any other issue?

Only to despite them,

I will endeavour any thing.

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;

They will scarcely believe this without trial:

offer them instances; which shall bear no less

likelihood than to see me court her privately,

hear me call Margaret Hero,

and bring them to see this the very night

before the intended wedding,

and there shall appear such seeming truth

of Hero's disloyalty

that jealousy shall be called

assurance and all the preparation overthrown.

Grow this to what adverse issue it can,

I will put it in practise.

Be cunning in the working this, and

thy fee is a thousand ducats.

Be you constant in the accusation,

and my cunning shall not shame me.

I will presently go learn their day of marriage.

Boy!

Signior?

In my chamber-window lies a book.

Bring it hither to me.

I am here already, sir.

I know that.

I would have thee hence,

and here again.

A book?

A book.

I do much wonder that one man,

seeing how much another man is a fool

when he dedicates

his behaviors to love,

will, after he hath laughed

at such shallow follies in others,

become the argument 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 would he rather hear

the tabor and the pipe.

I have known when he would have walked

ten mile afoot to see a good armor,

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,

and now is he turned orthography.

His words are a very fantastical banquet,

just so many strange dishes.

Well, 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'll take my oath on it,

till he hath made an oyster of me,

he shall never make me such a fool.

One woman 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 one woman,

one woman shall not come in my grace.

Rich she shall be, that's certain.

Wise, or I'll none.

Virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her.

Fair, or I'll 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 re...

...of what colour it please God.

The prince and Monsieur Love.

I will hide me.

Come, shall we hear this music?

Yea, my good lord. How still the morning is,

as hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!

- See you where Benedick hath hid himself?

- Very well, my lord.

Come, Balthasar.

We'll hear that song again.

O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice

to slander music any more than once.

I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.

Because you talk of wooing, I will sing.

Now is his soul ravished.

Is it not strange that sheeps' guts

should hale souls out of men's bodies?

By my troth, a good song.

And an ill singer, my lord.

No, no; thou singest

well enough for a shift.

An' he had been a dog that should have

howled thus, they'd have hanged him.

Yea, marry, Balthasar, dost thou hear?

I pray thee, get us some excellent music

for tomorrow night.

- The best I can, my lord.

- Do so:
farewell.

Come hither, Leonato.

What was it you told me of today?

That your niece Beatrice

was in love with Signior Benedick?

O, ay:
stalk on, stalk on;

the fowl sits.

I did never think that lady

would have loved any man.

Nor I neither,

but most wonderful that she

should so dote on Signior Benedick

whom she hath in all outward

behaviors seemed ever to abhor.

Is't possible?

- Sits the wind in that corner?

- By my troth, my lord,

I cannot tell what to think of it but that she loves

him with an enraged affection:

it is past the infinite of thought.

Maybe she doth but counterfeit?

- Faith, like enough.

- Oh, God! Counterfeit?

There was never counterfeit of passion

came so near the life of passion as she discovers it.

Why, what effects of passion shows she?

Bait the hook well. This fish will bite!

What effects, my lord?

She will sit you...

- You heard my daughter tell you how.

- How?

How, I pray you?

You amaze me!

I should have thought her spirit had been invincible

against all assaults of affection.

I should think this a gull,

but that Leonato speaks it.

Knavery cannot,

sure, hide himself in such reverence.

- He hath taken the infection: hold it up.

- Has she made her affection known to Benedick?

No, and swears she never will.

That's her torment.

'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says:

"Shall I," says she, "that have so oft

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