་ will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home: it is proved my lady Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and And when I send for you, come hither mask'd : Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour 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.-The inside of a church. Enter To visit me :-You know your office, brother; Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.- Don Pedro, Claudio, and attendants with music Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. and tapers. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? Claud. [Reads from a scroll.] Done to death by slanderous tongues, Hang thou there upon the tomb, [Affixing it. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'Tis most true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. me, From Claudio, and the prince; But what's your Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with attendants. We here attend you; are you yet determin'd readv. That you have such a February face, Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull:- When he would play the noble beast in love. Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; COW, And got a calf in that same noble feat, Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies mask'd. Claud. For this I owe you: here come other reckonings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. 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 And when you loved, you were my other husband. D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my concluLeon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander sion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have liv'd. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; What is your will? Have been deceived; for they swore you did. Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. Bene. 'Tis no such matter:-Then, you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves For here's a paper, written in his hand, Hero. And here's another, beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. Claud. I had well hoped, thou would'st 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 hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. Bene. First, o' 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. This play may be justly said to contain two of the most sprightly characters that Shakspeare ever drew. The wit, the humourist, the gentleman, and the soldier, are combined in Benedick. It is to be lamented, indeed, that the first and most splendid of these distinctions, is disgraced by unnecessary profaneness; for the goodness of his heart is Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, hardly sufficient to atone for the license of his Containing her affection unto Benedick. tongue. The too sarcastic levity, which flashes out Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against in the conversation of Beatrice, may be excused our hearts!-Come, I will have thee; but, by this on account of the steadiness and friendship so aplight, I take thee for pity. parent in her behaviour, when she urges her lover Beat. I would not deny you ;-but, by this good to risk his life by a challenge to Claudio. In the day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to conduct of the fable, however, there is an impersave your life, for I was told you were in a consump-fection similar to that which Dr. Johnson has point tion. Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.- ed out in The Merry Wives of Windsor-the second contrivance is less ingenious than the first:[Kissing her. or, to speak more plainly, the same incident is become stale by repetition. I wish some other method man? had been found to entrap Beatrice, than that very Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-one which before had been successfully practised on crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost Benedick. thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram; No: Much Ado About Nothing (as I understand if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear from one of Mr. Vertue's MSS.) formerly passed nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do under the title of Benedick and Beatrix. Heming propose to marry, I will think nothing to any pur- the player received, on the 20th of May, 1613, the pose that the world can say against it; and there- sum of forty pounds, and twenty pounds more as fore never flout at me for what I have said against his majesty's gratuity, for exhibiting six plays at Hampton Court, among which was this comedy. STEEVENS. (1) Because. And interchang'd love-tokens with my child: Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, SCENE 1.-Athens. A room in the palace of With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; Theseus. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philos-And stol'n the impression of her fantasy trate, and attendants. Theseus. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Four nights will quickly dream away the time; in The. Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth Turn melancholy forth to funerals, The pale companion is not for our pomp.[Exit Philostrate. Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love, doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph,' and with revelling. Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius. Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! The. Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee? Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia.Stand forth, Demetrius; My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her:Stand forth, Lysander;-and, my gracious duke, This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child: Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, (1) Shows. With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid: The. In himself he is: But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier. Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes. The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment I look. know not by what power I am made bold; Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. Nor how it may concern my modesty, In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts: But I beseech your grace that I may know The worst that may befal me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius. The. Either to die the death, or to abjure For ever the society of men. Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, (2) Baubles, You can endure the livery of a nun; Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, The. Take time to pause: and, by the next new moon (The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, For disobedience to your father's will; Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would: Or on Diana's altar to protest, For aye austerity and single life. Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years; So quick bright things come to confusion. Then let us teach our trial patience, As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's' followers. Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia;-And, Lysander, I have a widow aunt, a dowager yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love; Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, Upon this spotted and inconstant man. The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, My mind did lose it.-But, Demetrius, come; How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read, The course of true love never did run smooth: Of great revenue, and she hath no child: Her. My good Lysander : Enter Helena. Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away? More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. (7) Countenance. Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. ble comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Hel. None, but your beauty; 'would that fault Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, were mine! Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my and a merry.-Now, good Peter Quince, call forth face; Lysander and myself will fly this place. Before the time I did Lysander see, Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: your actors by the scroll: Masters, spread yourselves. Quin. Answer, as I call you̟.-Nick Bottom, the weaver. Bot. Ready: name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Py ramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure. To the rest:-Yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. "The raging rocks, "With shivering shocks, "Shall break the locks "Of prison-gates: "And Phibbus' car "Shall shine from far, "And make and mar "The foolish fates." This was lofty!-Now name the rest of the playbe!ers.-This is Ercles' vein; a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. O then, what graces in my love do dwell, [Exit. SCENE II.-The same. A room in a Cottage. Enter Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, Quince, and Starveling. Quin. Is all our company here? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. Quin. You must take Thisby on you. Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight? Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming. Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice;-Thisne, Thisne,-Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear! Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Star. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.-Tom Snout, the tinker. Snout. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father-Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part:and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar again, Let him roar again. Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek: and that were enough to hang us all. All. That would hang us every mother's son. Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have and so grow to a point. no more discretion but to hang us: but I will agQuin. Marry, our play is-The most lamenta-gravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you ans "twere lany nightingale. (1) Sport. (2) Eyes. (3) As if. |