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'and Ifiok. thf ccntle dav. Before the wheels of Phahns. round ahoiit Hain-lcs the drowsy east with spots of grey" (v. 3. 25),

SHAKESPEARE'S

COMEDY OF

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Edited, with Notes,

BY

WILLIAM J. ROLFK Litt. D.,

FORMERLY HEAD MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

WITH ENGRAVINGS.

NEW YORK:

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,

FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1895.

ENGLISH CLASSICS.

Edited by WM. J. ROLFE, Litt. D.

Illustrated. i6mo, Cloth, 56 cents per volume: Paper, 40 cents per volume. Shakespeare's Works.

-Tlie Merchant of Venice. Othello.

— Julius Cassar.

A Midsumiiier-Nighi's Dream.

- Macbeth. H.inilct.

— Much .Ado about Nothing.

komeo and Juliet. .,-^s Vou Like It.

Tlie Tempest. '- Twelfth Ni^ht.

The Winter's Tale.

King John.

Richard II.
- Henry IV.	Part	I.
Henrv IV.	Part	II.
Henr>' V.
Henry VI.	Part	I.
Henrv VI	Part	II.
Henry VI.	Part	Ill

Richard III. Henry VIII.

Kins Lear.

The Tamine of the Shrew.

All > Well' that Ends Well.

Coriolanus. — The Comedy of Errors.

Cymbeline.

Antony and Cleopatra.

Measure for Measure. ^ Merry Wives of Windsor.

Love's Labour 's Lost. ^ Two Gentlemen of Verona.

Timon of Athens.

I'roilus and Cressida.

Pericles, Prince of Tyre.

The Two Noble Kinsmen.

Venus and Adonis, Luciece, etc.

Sonnets.

Titus Andronicus.

Goldsmith's Select Poems. Browning's Select Poems.

Gkav's Select Poems. Browning's Select Dramas.

MiNOK Poems of John Milton. Macaulav's Lavs of Ancient Rome Wordsworth's Select Poems.

Pl:blisiied by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

^r~ riu abm'e works are for sale by all booksellers, or they zvill be sent by Hakprk & Brothers to any address on receipt of price as quoted- If ordered sent by mail, \o per cent, should be added to the price io cover cost of postage.

Copyright, 1878, by

IfYOf^C^^

air

CONTENTS,

PAGE

Introduction to Much Ado About Nothing 9

I. The History" of the Play 9

IL The Sources of the Plot 10

IJL Critical Comments on the Play 13

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 27

Act I , 29

« II 42

«' III 63

" IV 81

" V 95

Notes. ,.,.. , , ......,....,,., 115

MESSINA, FROM THE SEA.

INTRODUCTION

TO

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY.

The first edition q{ Much Ado About Nothing \^2J=> a quarto, published in 1600 with the following title-page:

The earliest known reference to the play is in the Regis- ters of the Stationers' Company, among some miscellaneous memoranda at the beginning of Volume C.^ The memo- randum follows one dated May 27th, 1600, and is thus given by Arber :

* See our eel. of As You Like It, p. 10.

,o MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

4. ^uflusti As YOU likf yt / a bonke

HJ:\K y the FFIFT/ a booke \ ^^ ^^ ^^^^^^^

Euery man in his humour / a booke The lommeJie o/'muche a Doo about nothing' a booke /

The year is not given, but there can be little doubt that it was 1600.

In the same volume, among the regular entries of the year ilioo, we find the following:

23 Siiiflustf

An<he» Wyse Entred for their copies vnder the handes of the wardens Two

\^ iliiam Aspley bookes. the one called Muche a Doo about nothitige. Th^eJ other

tfu' second piirte 0/ tlie history 0/ kins:e HENR Y the IIIJ^^ with

th4 humours 0/ Sir JOHN FFA LLSTA FF : Wr>'tten by master

SHAKESPERE xijd

This, by the way, is the first occurrence of the poet's name in these Registers.

Tlie quarto of 1600 was, on the whole, well printed ; and no other edition of the play is known to have been issued previous to the publication of the Folio of 1623. The printers of the latter appear to have used a copy of the quarto belonging to the library of the theatre and corrected for the purposes of the stage ; but the changes are for the most part very slight and seldom for the better, as will be seen by our Azotes below.

As the play is not mentioned in Meres's list of 1598 (see our ed. oi A. V. L. p. 10), while it had been "sundrie times" acted before its publication in August, 1600, it was probably written in 1599.

11. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT.

The earlier incidents of the serious portion of the plot may have been taken from the story of Ariodante and Ginevra in Ariosto's Orlafuio Furioso^z-\x\\o v. ; where Polinesso, in or- der to revenge himself on the princess Ginevra (who has rejected his suit and pledged her troth to .\riodante) induces

INTRODUCTION.

II

her attendant Dalinda to personate the princess and to ap- pear at night at a balcony to which he ascends by a rope- ladder in sight, of Ariodante, whom he has stationed there to witness the infidelity of Ginevra. A translation of this story by Peter Beverley was entered on the Stationers' Registers in 1565-6, and was doubtless printed soon afterwards ; and in 1582-3 "A History of Ariodante and Geneuora" was "shewed before her j\Ia*'^ on Shrovetuesdaie at night, enact- ed by Mr. Mulcasters children." According to Sir John Harrington, the same story had been "written in English verse" by George Turbervile, before the publication of his own translation of the Orlando in 1591. Spenser had also introduced the tale, with some variations, in the Faerie Quee?ie (ii. 4. 17 fol.), and this part of the poem w'as pub- lished in 1590.

It is more probable, however, that the source from which Shakespeare drew this part of his materials was the 22d Novel of Bandello, which had been translated into French by Belleforest in his Histoires Tragiqiies (see our ed. oi Hafn- iet, p. 13), and probably also rendered into English, though the version has not come down to our day. In Bandello's story, as in the play, the scene is laid at Messina; the father of the slandered maiden is Lionato; and the friend of her lover is Don Piero, or Pedro. How closely the poet has followed the novel will be seen from the outline of the latter given by Staunton : " Don Piero of Arragon returns from a victorious campaign, and, with the gallant cavalier Timbreo di Cardona, is at Messina. Timbreo falls in love with Feni- cia, the daughter of Lionato di Lionati, a gentleman of Mes- sina, and, like Claudio in the play, courts her by proxy. He is successful in his suit, and the lovers are betrothed ; but the course of true love is impeded by one Girondo, a disap- pointed admirer of the lady, who determines to prevent tiie marriage. In pursuance of this object, he insinuates to Timbreo that Fenicia is false, and offers to show him a

T

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTIIh\G.

stranger scaling licr chamber window. The unhappy lover consents lo watch ; and at the appointed hour Girondo and a servant in the plot pass him disguised, and the latter is seen lo ascend a ladder and enter the house of Lionato. In an agony of rage and jealousy, Timbreo in the morning ac- cuses the lady of disloyalty, and rejects the alliance. Fenicia falls into a swoon ; a dangerous illness supervenes ; and the father, to stifle all rumours hurtful to her lame, removes her to a retired house of his brother, proclaims her death, and solemnly performs her funeral obsequies. Girondo is now struck with remorse at having 'slandered to death' a creat- ure so innocent and beautiful. He confesses his treachery to 'I'imbreo, and both determine to restore the reputation of the lost one, and undergo any penance her family may impose. Lionato is merciful, and requires only from Timbreo that he shall wed a lady whom he recommends, and whose face shall be concealed till the marriage ceremony is over. The denouejncnt is obvious. Timbreo espouses the mysteri- ous fair one, and finds in her his injured, loving, and beloved Fenicia."

The comic portion of the play is Shakespeare's own, as indeed is everything else in it except this mere skeleton of tragic incident. Claudio and Hero, Don Pedro and Don John, are as really his own creations as Benedick and Bea- trice, Dogberry and Verges, who have no part in Bandello's novel or Ariosto's poem. As Knight remarks, " Ariosto made this story a tale of chivaliy, Spenser a lesson of high and solemn morality, Bandello an interesting love-romance ; it was for Shakspere to surround the main incident with those accessories which he could nowhere borrow, and to make of it such a comedy as no other man has made — a comedy, not of manners or of sentiment, but of life viewed under its profoundest aspects, 'whether of the grave or the ludicrous."

INTRODUCTION. 13

III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY. \^From SchlegeVs ^'■Dramatic Literature.''''*'^

The manner in which the innocent Hero before the altar at the moment of the wedding, and in the presence of her family and many witnesses, is put to shame by a most de- grading charge, false indeed, yet clothed with every appear- ance of truth, is a grand piece of theatrical effect in the true and justifiable sense. The impression would have been too tragical had not Shakspeare carefully softened it, in order to prepare for a fortunate catastrophe. The discovery of the plot against Hero has been already partly made, though not by the persons interested ; and the poet has contrived, by means of the blundering simplicity of acouple of constables and watchmen, to convert the arrest and the examination of the guilty individuals into scenes full of the most delight- ful amusement. There is also a second piece of theatrical effect not inferior to the iirst, where Claudio, now convinced of his error, and in obedience to the penance laid on his fault, thinking to give his hand to a relation of his injured bride, whom he supposes dead, discovers, on her unmasking, Hero herself. The extraordinary success of this play in Shakspeare's own day, and even since in England, is, how- ever, to be ascribed more particularly to the parts of Bene- dick and Beatrice, two humorous beings, who incessantly attack each other with all the resources of raillery. Avow- edly rebels to love, they are both entangled in its net by a merry plot of their friends to make them believe that each is the object of the secret passion of the other. Some one or other, not overstocked with penetration, has objected to the same artifice being twice used in entrapping them ; the drollery, however, lies in the very symmetry of the deception. Their friends attribute the whole effect to their own device,

* Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, hv A. W. Schlegel ; Black's translation, revised by Morrison (London, 1846), p. 386.

,^ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

but ihe exclusive direction of their raillery against each oth- er is in itself a proof of a growing inclination. Their witty vivacity does not even abandon them in the avowal of love; and their behaviour only assumes a serious appearance for the purpose of defending the slandered Hero. This is ex- ceedingly well imagined; the lovers of jesting must fix a point beyond which they are not to indulge in their humour, if they would not be mistaken for buffoons by trade.

[From Get-iiitiis^s ^^ Shakesfeare Covimciitaries.''''*'\

liandello's tale did not afford the poet even a hint of any moral view of the story; it is a bald narrative, containing nothing which could assist in the understanding of the Shakespearian piece. In As You Like It he had to conceal the vast moralizing of the source from which he drew his material ; here, on the other hand, he had to strike the latent spark within the material. The story of Claudio and Hero was transferred by Shakespeare from the shallow novel into life; he dived into the nature of the incidents; he investi- gated the probable character of the beings among whom it was imaginable ; he found the key-note by means of which he could bring the whole into harmony. The subject ex- panded in his hands; the main action received an explana- tory prelude; the principal characters (Hero and Claudio) obtained an important counterpart in the connection between IWnedick and Beatrice, which is entirely Shakespeare's prop- erty ; these characters gained an importance even beyond the principal ones ; the plot, as is ever the case with our poet, and as Coleridgef has especially pointed out in this

• Shake s teat e Commentaries, by Dr. G. G. Gervinus, translated by F. E. Hunnctt ; revised etl. (London, 1875), p. 406 fol. (by permission). A few ^li^;ht verbal changes have been n,iade by the editor.

t ("oleridge remarks: "The interest in the plot is always on acconnt of the charnctcrs, not vice versa, as in almost all (»ther writers ; the plot i» a mere canvas anti no more. Hence arises the true justification of the

INTRODUCTION.

15

play, gave place to the characterization ; the question seems almost what manner of men made the much ado about noth- ing, rather than the fiothing about which ado was made. The whole stress seems to lie, not in the plot, not in the outward interest of the catastrophe, but in the moral significance which the disturbance caused by Don John exercises upon the two engagements which are concluded and prepared, and again dissolved and left unconfirmed, or rather upon the beings who have entered into these engagements. . . .

The poet has with extraordinary skill so arranged and introduced the tragic incident that the painful impression which is perhaps too sensible in the reading is lost Tn the acting. He omitted upon the stage the scene of Claudio's agitation on overhearing Hero, in order that he might thus avoid the gloom, and not weaken the comic scene in which a trap is laid for the listening Beatrice. The burlesque scenes of the constables are introduced with the impending tragic events, that they may afford a counterbalance to them and prevent them from having too lively an effect on the spectator. But, above all, we are already aware that the authors of the deception are in custody before Hero's dis- grace in the church takes place ; we know, therefore, that all the ado about her crime and death is for nothing. This tact of the poet in the construction of his comedy corresponds with that in the design of Claudio's character, and in the unusually happy contrast which he has presented to him in Benedick. Shakespeare has so blended the elements in

same stratagem being used in regard to Benedick and Beatrice — the van- ity in each being alike. Take away from Much Ado About /Vot/iing all that which is not indispensable to the plot, . . . 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 Shakspeare 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 mainspring of the plot of this play ; but he is merely shown and then withdrawn."

l6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Claudio's naiure, he has given such a good foundation of honour and self-reliance to his unstable mind and fickle youth, that we cannot, with all our disapprobation of his conduct, be doubtful as to his character. Changeable as he is. he continues stable in no choice of friends and loved ones, since he had never continuously tested them ; at the slightest convulsion of events he is overpowered by first im- pressions, and he is without the strength of will to search to the bottom of things. This would be an odious and despica- ble character, if the changeableness were not tempered by the sensitiveness of a tender feeling of honour. Our interest in Cfaudio is secured by this blending of the moral elements in his nature ; but the foundation for a comic character does not appear to lie either in him or in the whole action in which he is implicated. If we separate it from the rest, we shall retain a painful and not a cheerful impression. The poet has thus added the connection between Benedick aixl Beatrice, in order to produce a merry counterbalance to the more serious and primary element of the play, and to make the former predominate. The same self-love and the same spoiling by prosperity fall to the lot of these two characters as to that of Claudio ; but, instead of his changeableness, we see in them only what, with a fine distinction, we should (with Benedick) call giddiness. We connect the idea of chansfeableness with a continual waverinir after resolutions taken ; that of giddiness with unstable opinions and inclina- tions before the same : changeableness manifests itself in actions, it is productive of pernicious consequences, and for this reason causes contempt and hatred ; giddiness manifests itself only in contrary processes of the mind, which are by nature harmless, and this is the reason why it offers excel- lent material for comedy. P>w characters, therefore, on the stage have sucii tiuly comic character as Benedick and Bea- trice, and they have not lost their popularity in England even to the present day. Shakespeare's contemporary, Leonard

INTR OD UC TION,

17

Digges, speaks of them together with Falstaff and Malvolio as the favourites of the public of that day ; as characters which filled pit, gallery, and boxes in a moment, while Ben Jonson's comedies frequently did not pay for fire and door- keeper. . . .

It would have been difftcult for Benedick and Beatrice in the midst of their hostile raillery to come to a serious ex- planation ; the concluding scene itself proves this, after events have led to this explanation. This is brought about by the heartless scene which Claudio prepares for Hero in the church. The better nature of Beatrice bursts forth to light amid this base ill-treatment. Her true love for Hero, her deep conviction of her innocence, her anger at the de- liberate malice of her public dishonour, stir up her whole soul and make it a perfect contrast to what we have seen in her hitherto. . . . Sorrow for Hero and for the honour of her house makes Beatrice gentle, tender, and weakened into tears; this "happy hour" facilitates to both their serious confession. But at the same time this hour of misfortune tests these beings, accustomed as they are only to jest and raillery, by a heavy trial, in the sustaining of which we are convinced that these gifted natures are not devoid of that seriousness which res^ards nc earnest situation with frivolity. We should more readily have imputed this gift to Claudio, but we find it existing far more in the humorous couple who had not taken life so lightly, and who had at last accustomed themselves to truth. Beatrice places before Benedick the cruel choice between her esteem and love and his connec- tion with his friend. His great confidence in her, and in her unshaken confidence in Hero, led him to make his diffi- cult decision, in which he acts with vigour and prudence, very differently from Claudio in his difficulties. Beatrice, the untamed colt, learns at the same time how the most masculine woman cannot dispense with assistance in certain cases ; she has moreover seen her Benedick in a position in

B

iS MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

which he responds to her ideal of a man, in whom mirth and seriousness should be justly blended. . . . Benedick goes off the stage with a confession of his giddiness, but it is a giddi- ness overcome, and we have no reason to be anxious either for the constancy or for the peaceableness of this pair. The poet has bestowed upon them two names of happy augury. . . .

[From Mrs. Jiimcsons " Characteristics of IVomen.'"*]

Shakspeare has exhibited in Beatrice a spirited and laitliful 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 individual and dramatic character which forms the groundwork is strongly discrim- inated, and being taken from general nature, belongs to ev- ery age. In Beatrice, high intellect and high animal spir- its meet, and excite each other like fire and air. In her wit (wiiich is brilliant without being imaginative) there is a touch of insolence, not unfrequent in women when the wit predominates over reflection and imagination. In her tem- per, 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 sym- pathy. But Beatrice, though wilful, is not wayward ; she is volatile, not unfeeling. She has not only an exuberance 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 wit consists in a temporary allusion, 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 connc effect. We are not only inclined to forgive Beati ice all her

* Aniciic.Tn cd. (lloston, 1857), p. 99 ful.

INTRO D UC TION:

19

scornful airs, all her biting jests, all her assumption of supe- riority; but they amuse and delight us the more when we find her, with all the headlong simplicity 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 to be o'ermastered by " a piece of valiant dust," stooping like the rest of her sex, vailing her proud spirit and taming her wild heart to the loving hand of him whom she had scorned, flouted, and misused " past the endurance 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, Bea- trice, confident in her affections, and guided only by the impulses of her own feminine heart, sees through the incon- sistency, the impossibility of the charge, and exclaims, without a moment's hesitation,

" O, on my soul, my cousin is belied !" Schlegel, in his remarks on the play, has given us an amusing instance of that sense of reality with which we are impressed by Shakspeare's characters. He says of Bene- dick and Beatrice, as if he had known them personally, that the exclusive direction of their pointed raillery against each other " is a proof of a growing inclination." This is not unlikely; and the same inference would lead us to suppose that this mutual inclination had commenced before the opening of the play. The very first words uttered by Bea- trice are an inquiry after Benedick, though expressed with her usual arch impertinence : —

*' I pray you, is vSignior Montanto returned from the wars, or no ?"

"I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? P.nt how many hath he killed ? for indeed I promised to eat all of his

killincr."

20

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIXG.

And in tlic unprovoked hostility with which she falls upon him in his absence, in the pertinacity and bitterness of her satire, there is certainly great argument that he occupies much more of her thoughts than she would have been will- ing to confess, even to herself In the same manner Bene- dick betrays a lurking partiality for his fascinating enemy ; he shows that he has looked upon her with no careless eye when he says,

"There 's her cou>in [meaning Beatrice], an she were not possessed wiih 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 show^n 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 inditit'erence of temjx^r, the laughing defiance of love and marriage, the satirical freedom of expression, conunon to both, are more becoming to the masculine than to the feminine character. Any woman might love such a cavalier 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 pow- er of love are but just sufficient to render n:ore piquant the conquest of this " heretic in despite of beauty." But a man might well be pardoned who should shrink from encounter- ing such a spirit as that of Beatrice, unless, indeed, he had "served an apprenticeship to the taming-school." 'Hie wit of Beatrice is less good humoured than that of Benedick; or, from the ditTerence of sex, appears so. It is observable that the power is throughout on her side, and the sympathy and interest on his: which, by reversing the usual order of things, seems to excite us aj^ainst the grain, if I may use such an expression. In all their encounters she constantly gets the better of him, and the gentleman's wits go off halting, if he is not himself fairly /tors dc combnt. Beatrice, woman like, gcncrnlly has the first word, and will have the last. . . .

INTR OD UC TIOiV. 2 i

In the midst of all this tilting and sparring of their nimble and fiery wits, we find them infinitely anxious for the good opinion of each other, and secretly impatient of each other's scorn ; but Beatrice is the most truly indifferent of the two — the most assured of herself. The comic effect produced by their mutual attachment, which, however natural and expect- ed, comes upon us with all the force of a surprise, cannot be surpassed : and how exquisitely characteristic the mutual avowal ! . . .

The character of Hero is well contrasted with that of Beatrice, and their mutual attachment is very beautiful and natural. When they are both on the scene together, Hero has but little to say for herself: Beatrice asserts the rule of a master spirit, eclipses her by her mental superiority, abashes her by her raillery, dictates to her, answers for her, and would fain inspire her gentle-hearted cousin with some of her own assurance.

" 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, or else make another curtsy and say ' Father, as it please me.' "

But Shakspeare knew well how to make one character sub- ordinate to another, without sacrificing the slightest portion of its effect ; and Hero, added to her grace and softness, and all the interest which attaches to her as the sentimental heroine of the play, possesses an intellectual beauty of her own. When she has Beatrice at an advantage, she repays her with .interest, in the severe but most animated and ele- gant picture_she draws of her cousin's imperious character and unbridled levity of tongue. The portrait is a little over- charged, because administered as a corrective, and intended to be overheard :

" But nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice : Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes," etc.

Beatrice never appears to greater advantage than in her

22

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIXG.

soliloquy after leaving her concealment " in the pleached bower where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, forbid the sun to enter;*' she exclaims, after listening to this tirade against herself, —

"What flic is in niinc ears? Can this be true?

Stand 1 condcnin'd for pride and scorn so much?"

The sense of wounded vanity is lost in better feelings, and she is infinitely more struck by what is said m praise of Benedick, and the history of his supposed love for her, than by the dispraise of herself. The immediate success of the trick is a most natural consequence of the self-assurance and magnanimity of her character; she is so accustomed to assert dominion over the spirits of others that she cannot suspect the possibility of a plot laid against herself. . . .

It is remarkable that, notwithstanding the point and vivac- ity of the dialogue, few of the speeches of Beatrice are capa- ble of a general application, or engrave themselves distinctly on the memory; they contain more mirth than matter; and though wit be the predominant feature in the dramatic por- trait, Beatrice more charms and dazzles us by what she is than by what she says. It is not merely her sparkling rep- artees and saucy jests, it is the soul of wit, and the spirit of gayety informing the whole character — looking out from lier brilliant eyes, and laughing on the full lips that pout with scorn— which we have before us, moving and full of life. On the whole, we dismiss Benedick and Beatrice to iheir matrimonial bonds rather with a sense of amusement than a feeling of congratulation or sympathy; rather with an acknowledgment that they are well-matched and worthy of each other, than with any well-founded expectation of their domestic tranquillity. If, as Benedick asserts, they are both "loo wise to woo peaceably," it may be added that both are too wise, too witty, and too wilful to live peaceably together. We have some misgivings about Beatrice — some apprehen- sions that poor Benedick will not escape the " predestinated

INTR OD UC TION.

23

scratched face," which he had foretold to him who should win and wear this quick-witted and pleasant-spirited lady; yet when we recollect that to the wit and imperious temper of Beatrice is united a magnanimity of spirit which would naturally place her far above all selfishness, and all paltry struggles for power — when we perceive, in the midst of her sarcastic levity and volubility of tongue, so much of generous affection, and such a high sense of female virtue and honour, we are inclined to hope the best. "VVe think it possible that though the gentleman may now and then swear, and the lady scold, the native good-humour of the one, the really fine understanding of the other, and the value they so evidently attach to each other's esteem, will insure them a tolerable portion of domestic felicity; and in this hope we leave them.

Note by the Editor. — -The poet Campbell, in his introduction to the play, remarks : " Mrs. Jameson, in her characters of Shakespeare, concludes with hoping that Beatrice will live happy with Benedick, but I have no such hope ; and my final anticipation 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 Beatrice ; she railed hypocritically at wedlock before her marriage, and with bitter sincerity after it. She and her Benedick now live apart, but with entire reci- procity of sentiments, each devoutly wishing that the other may soon pass into a better w^orld. Beatrice is not to be compared, but contrasted, with Rosalind, who is equafly witty ; but the sparkling sayings of Rosa- lind are like gems upon her head at court, and like dew-drops on her bright hair in the woodland forest."

Verplanck, after quoting this passage, comments upon it as follows : " We extract this last criticism, partly in deference to Campbell's gen- eral exquisite taste and reverent appreciation of Shakespeare's genius, and partly as an example of the manner in which accidental personal

2^ MUCn A DO ABOUT NOTHIXG.

aiisociations influence taste and opinion. The critical poet seems to have unhappily suffered under the caprices or insolence of some accom- plished but fantastical female wit, whose resemblance he thinks he recognizes in Beatrice ; and then vents the offences of the belle of Edin- burgh or London upon her prototype of Messina, or more probably of the court of Queen Elizabeth. Those who, without encountering any >uch unlucky cause of personal prejudice, have looked long enough upon tiie rapidly passing generations of wits and beauties in the gay world to have noted their characters as they first appeared, and subsequently developed themselves in after-life, will pronounce a very different judg- ment. Beatrice's faults are such as ordinarily spring from the conscious- ness 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 feeli::gs, high confi-

• icnce 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 sorrows of matarer life, the affec- tion and the duties of the wife and the mother, can gradually shajje into the noblest forms of matronly excellence; and such, we doubt not, was the result shown in the married life of Beatrice."

We may add what Mr. Furni«aII says on the same subject : " Beatrice is the sauciest, most piquant, sparkling, madcap girl that Shakspere ever drew, and yet a loving, deep-natured, true woman too. . . . She gives her heart to Benedick. . . . The two understand one another. We all know what it means. The brightest, sunniest married life, comfort in sorrow, doubling of joy. . . . The poet Campbell's story of his pair was au utter mistake : he never knew a Beatrice."

See also the extract from Gervinus, p. i8 above.

\From IVeisis ''Wit, Humor, and ShaJ;speare.'"*'\ 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 con- stable, lir.t Dogberry's mission extended farther than that, and is intimately woven with delightftil unconsciousness on his part inio the fortunes of Hero.

Dogberry is not only immortal for that, but his name will never die so long as village communities in either hemi-

• Wtl, Humor, and S/tidsfcarc, by John Weiss (Boston, 1876), p. 75 fol.

INTRODUCTION.

25

sphere elect their guardians of the peace and clothe them in verbose terrors. If the town is unfortunately short of rascals, the officer will fear one in each bush, or extemporize one out of some unbelhgerent 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 persons are there clumsy enough to be unemployed. Such a vagrom is easily compiehended. 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. . . . He is the most original of Mal- aprops, says to the prince's order that it shall be suffigance, and tells the watch that salvation were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them. He has furnished mankind with that adroit phrase of con- versational escape from compromise, "comparisons are odor- ous." . . . 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 short- ly." This is the precipitancy of a child's reasoning. . . ,

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 Dogberry's ; and the latter manages to step upon himself in amusing uncon- sciousness. " 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 slamming to the door with- out observing it.

But when the watch blunders bv reason of idiocy into ar-

» ' '

resting Borachio, who was the agent in the plot against Hero, the innocent Conrade is found in his company, listening to his disclosures. He too is carried off and confronted with

26 MUCH ADO ABOUT iXOTHIXG.

Do,i;bcrrv before the whole " dissembl y " of constables. Then and iliere Conrade calls him in set terms an ass.

Dogberry flickers up into a kind of lukewarmness, and does his little to resent it. "Dost thou not suspect my years?" •*'l'hou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved." . . . He was never called ass before; for Conrade was probably the first free-spoken prisoner entirely innocent of malaprop- isms that he had ever faced. He cannot compose his shal- low fluster ; for it is as deep as he is, and it even comes splashing into the pathos of the moment when the wrong done to Hero is discovered, who is not yet known to be still hving. He wants the man punished who called him ass, not the man who was the slanderer of Hero. Standing round liini are noble natures touched with sorrow and remorse ; but for him Conrade is " the plaintift', the offender," who did call him ass. Dead, shamed, ruined Hero, distracted lover, and tender father retreat into a background upon which he scrawls himself an ass. . . . Here the comedy of Dogberry's character acquires a touch of humour; for so are we obliged to tolerate in our profoundest moments the trivialities of those who do not know or cannot contain our serious mood.

There is underlying humour in the fact that all this igno- rance and inconsequence, this burlesquing of the detective's business, effects what the age and wisdom of Leonato and the instinct of the lover Claudio could not: namely, the dis- covery of Hero's innocence and of the plot to besmirch her chastity in the eyes of her lov^er. The wise men are taken in, and the accident of folly undeceives them. Then it be- comes no longer an accident, but the regimen of the world adopts and puts it to a use. Here comedy becomes humor- ous, because it is shown how the fortunes of the good and prudent are involved with all the vulgarities of the world, and justice itself, which is nothing if not critical, cannot make up its case without non-sequiturs.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

DRAMATIS PERSOXM

Don Pedro, prince of Arragon. Don John, his bastard brother. Claudio, a young lord of Florence. Benedick, a young lord of Padua. Leonato, governor of Messina. Antonio, his brother. Balthazar, attendant on Don Pedro. Conrade, I ^ ,, ^_ , ,

BoRACHio, ) followers of Den John.

Friar Francis. Dogberry, a constable. Verges, a headborough. A Sexton. A Boy.

Hero, daughter to Leonato. P)EATRicE, niece to Leonato.

'^'^^^v.^^^'^'^1 \ gentlewomen attending on Hera Ursula, 3

Messengers, Watch, Attendants, ^:c.

Scene : Messina.

ACT I.

Scene I. Before Leonatd's House.

Enter Leonato, Hero, ^;z^ Beatrice, with a Messenger.

Leonato. I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina.

Messenger. He is very near by this ; he was not three leagues off when I left him.

Leonato. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action .'*

Messenger. But few of any sort, and none of name.

Leonato. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath be- stowed much honour on a young Florentine called CI audio.

Messenger. Much deserved on his part and equally re-

^o MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

menibcrcd by Don Pedro ; he hath borne liimself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a hon : he hath indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how. 15

Lt'onato. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it.

Messenger. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him ; even so much that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness.

Leotiato. Did he break out into tears t 21

Messenger. In great measure.

Leonato. A kind overflow of kindness; there are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping !

Beatrice. I pray you, is Signior JMontanto returned from the wars or no ?

Messenger. I know none of that name, lady ; there was none such in the army of any sort.

Leonato. What is he that you ask for, niece ? 30

Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.

Messenger. O, he 's returned ; and as pleasant as ever he was.

Beatrice. He set up his bills here in Messina and chal- lenged Cupid at the flight ; and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed.^ for indeed I promised to eat all of his killing.

Leonato. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much ; but he Ml be meet with you, I doubt it not. 4t

Mcsscjiger. He hath done good service, lad}', in these wars.

Beatrice. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it : he is a very valiant trencher-man ; he hath an excellent stomach.

Messenger. And a good soldier too, lady.

ACT I. SCENE I.

31

Beatrice. And a good soldier to a lady ; but what is he to a lord ?

Messe?iger., A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honourable virtues. 5°

Beatrice. It is so, indeed ; he is no less than a stuffed man : but for the stuffing, — well, we are all mortal.

Leonato. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her ; they never meet but there 's a skirmish of wMt between them.

Beatrice. Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed w^ith one : so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse ; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. — Who is his com- panion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.

Messenger. Is 't possible .'^ 63

Beatrice. Very easily possible : he wears his failh but as the fashion of his hat ; it ever changes with the next block.

Messenger. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.

Beatrice. No ; an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray you, who is his companion ? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil 1

Messenger. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. 71

Beatrice. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease ; he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio ! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.

Messenger. I will hold friends with you, lady.

Beatrice. Do, good friend.

Leofiato. You will never run mad, niece.

Beatrice. No, not till a hot January. 80

Messenger. Don Pedro is approached.

^2 J/rcV/ A£>0 ABOUT NOTHING.

Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Claudio, Benedick, and

Balthazar.

Don Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble ; the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.

Leonato. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of vour grace : for trouble being gone, comfort should re- main ; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.

Don Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. I \hink this is your daughter. 90

Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so.

Benediik. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her.-*

L.eonato. Signior Benedick, no ; for then were you a child.

Don Pedro. You have it full. Benedick ; we may guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers herself— Be happy, lady; for you are like an honourable father.

Benediik. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. 100

Beatriee. I wonder that you vvill still be talking, Signior BcMicdick ; nobodv marks vou.

Benediek. What, my dear Lady Disdain ! are you yet liv- ing ?

Beatriee. Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself nuist convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.

Benediek. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted : and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none. ' m

Beatriee. A dear ha|)pincss to women ; they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God

ACT I. SCENE 1. 33

and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that ; 1 had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.

Benedick. God keep your ladyship still in that mind ! so some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratched face.

Beatrice. Scratching could not make it worse, an 't were such a face as yours were. 121

Benedick. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.

Beatrice. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.

Benedick. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, o' God's name ; I have done.

Beatrice. You always end with a jade's trick; I know you of old. 129

.Do7i Pedro. That is the sum of all, Leonato. — Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend 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 prays from his heart.

Leonato. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. — \^To Don yo/vi] Let me bid you welcome, my lord : being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you all duty.

Don yohn. I thank you ; I am not of m.any words, but I thank you. 140

Leonato. Please it your grace lead on ?

Don Pedro. Your hand, Leonato ; we will go together.

\Exeimt all except Benedick and Claudio,

Claudio. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato.''

Benedick. I noted her not ; but I looked on her.

Claudio. Is she not a modest young lady ?

Benedick. Do you question me, as an honest man should

(J

. , MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

do, for niy simple true judgment; or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex ? 150

Chiudio. No ; I pray thee speak in sober judgment.

Benedick. Why, i' faith, methinks she 's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise : only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome j and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.

Claudio. Thou thinkest I am in sport; I pray thee tell me truly how thou likest her.

Benedick. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?

Claudio. Can the world buy such a jewel ? 160

Benedick. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow ? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare car- penter.^ Come, in what key shall a man take you, to go in the song?

Claudio. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on.

Benedick. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter ; there 's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you ? 172

Claudio. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.

Benedick. Is 't come to this, i' faith? Hath not the world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion ? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i' faith; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it and sigh away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is relumed to seek you.

ACT I. SCENE I.

35

Re-enter Don Pedro.

Don Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you fol- lowed not to Leonato's? i8i

Benedick. I would your grace would constrain me to tell.

Don Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance.

Benedick. You hear, Count Claudio : I can be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so ; but, on my alle- giance, mark you this, on my allegiance. — 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.

Claudio. If this were so, so were it uttered.

Be?iedick. Like the old tale, my lord : ' it is not so, nor 't w^as not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.' 191

Claudio. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise.

Doji Pedro. Amen, if you love her ; for the lady is very w^U worthy.

Claudio. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.

Don Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought.

Claudio. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.

Bejiedick. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. 200

Claudio. That I love her, I feel.

Do7i Pedro. That she is wortliy, I know.

Benedick. That I neither feel how she should be loved nor know how she should be worth}^ is the opinion that fire can- not melt out of me ; I will die in it at the stake.

Don Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty.

Claudio. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will. 209

Benedick. 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 winded in my forehead, or

.(. MCC/I ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women sh^ll par- don me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust anv, I will do myself the right to trust none ; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor.

Don Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. 2is

Benedick. \\\\\\ anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love ; prove that ever I lose 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 brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid.

Don Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.

Pcncdick. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me ; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoul- iler, and called Adam.

Don Pedro. Well, as time shall try ; ""Ivi time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.' 230

Benedick. The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead; and let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write ' Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign ' Here you may see Benedick the mar- ried man.'

Claudio. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad.

Don I'edro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. 240

Benedick. 1 look for an earthquake too, then.

Don Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's : commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at sup- per ; for indeed he halii made great preparation.

Benedick. I have almost matter cnougii in me for such an Linbabsage ; and so I commit you —

ACT I. SCENE I.

37

Claudio. To the tuition of God : from my house, if I had it, — 249

Don Pedro. The sixth of July: your loving friend, Benedick.

Benedick. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither : ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience ; and so I leave you. S^Exif.

Claudio. My liege, your highness now may do me good.

Don Pedro. My love is thine to teach ; teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good.

Claudio. Hath Leonato any son, my lord ? 260

Don Pedro. No child but Hero ; she 's his only heir. Dost thou affect her, Claudio t

Claudio. O, my lord,

When you went onward on this ended action, I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye. That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love ; But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts Have left their places vacant, in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate desires. All prompting me how fair young Hero is, 27v>

Savins:, I lik'd her ere I went to wars, —

Don Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently And tire the hearer with a book of words. If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it. And I will break with her and with her father, And thou shalt have her. Was 't not ta this end That thou began 'st to twist so fine a story.?

Claudio. How sweetly you do minister to love, That know love's grief by his complexion ! But lest my liking might too sudden seem, aso

I would have salv'd it with a loniier treatise.

^3 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Don rcdro. ^^'lKU need the bridge much broader than the flood ? The fill rest grant is the necessity. Look, what will serve is fit ; 't is once, thou lovest, And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have revelling to-night; I will assume thy part in some disguise And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosom I '11 unclasp my heart And take her hearing prisoner widi the force 29°

And strong encounter of my amorous tale : Then after to her father will I break ; And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. In practice let us put it presently. ^Exeunt.

Scene II. A Room in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio, meeting.

Lconato. How now, brother ! Where is my cousin, your son ? hath he provided this music ?

Antonio. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamt not of.

Lconato. Are they good ?

Antonio. As the event stamps them ; but they have a good cover, they show well outward. The prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine : the prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance ; and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top and instantly break with you of it. 13

Lconato. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?

Antonio. A good sharp fellow' ; I will send for him, and question him yourself.

L.conato. No, no ; we will hold it as a dream till it appear

ACT I. SCENE III. 39

itself: but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell her of it. — [^Enter attendants.^ Cousins, you know what you have to do. — O, I cry you merc}^, friend ; go you w'ith me, and I \\\\\ use your skill. — Good cousin, have a care this busy time. [^Exeunt,

Scene III. The Same. Enter Don John ajid Conrade.

Conrade. What the good-year, my lord ! why are you thus out of measure sad 1

Don yohn. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds it ; therefore the sadness is without limit.

Conrade. You should hear reason.

Don John. And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it.''

Conrade. If not a present remedy, at least a patient suf- ferance. 9

Don yoJm. I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayest thou art, born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral medi- cine to a mortifying mischief I cannot hide what I am ; I must be sad when I have cause and smile at no man's jests, eat when I have stomach and wait for no man's leisure, sleep vi^hen I am drowsy and tend on no man's business, laugh when I am merry and claw no man in his humour. i6

Conrade. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you may do it without controlment. You 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 fram.e the season for your own harvest.

Do7i yohn. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any; in

.o MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

tliis, thoiif;li I caiinol be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite ; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am and seek not to alter me. 32

Cofiradc. Can you make no use of your discontent?

Don John. I make all use of it, for I use it only.-^Who comes here ? —

■Ettter EoRACHio.

What news, Borachio?

Borachio. 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. 39

Don yohn. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on t What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquiet- ness ?

Borachio. ^larry, it is your brother's right hand.

Don John. ^Vho? the most exquisite Claudio.''

Borachio. Even he.

Don John. A proper squire! And who, and who? which way looks he ?

Borachio. Marr}', on Hero, the daughter and heir of Le- onato. 49

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

Borachio. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smok- ing a musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference ; I whipt me behind the arras, and there heard it agreed upon that the prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give her to Count Claudio.

Don John. Come, come, let us thither ; this may prove

ACT I. SCENE ///.

41

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 .<* CoHj'ade. To the death, my lord. 62

Don yohn. 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?

Borachio. We '11 wait upon your lordship. \^Exeu}it.

the little hangman" (iii. 2. 10),

ACT 11.

Scene I. A Hall in Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, and others.

Leonato. Was not Count John here at supper? Antonio. I saw him not.

Beatrice. How tartly that gentleman looks ! I never can see him but I am heart-burned an hour after. Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition.

ACT IL SCENE I. 43

Beatrice. 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. 9

Leonato. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Siguier Benedick's face, —

Beatrice. 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.

Leonato. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

Antonio. In faith, she 's too curst.

Beatrice. 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. 21

Leonato. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.

Beatrice. 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 woollen.

Leonato. You may light on a husband that hath no beard.

Beatrice. 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 ; and he that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man I am not for him : therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell. 3S

Leonato. Well, then, go you into hell ?

Beatrice. No, but to the gate ; and 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

^^ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

to Saint Peter for the heavens ; he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.

Antonio. [To Hero'] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father. 44

Beatrice. Yes, faith ; it is my cousin's duty to make curt- sy and say 'Father, as it please you.' — But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say ' Father, as it please me.'

Leonato. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. 50

Beatrice. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmas- tered with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl .^ No, uncle, I '11 none : Adam's sons are my brethren ; and, truly, T hold it a sin to match in my kindred.

Leonato. Daughter, remember what I told you ; if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.

Beatrice. 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 re- penting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is 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.

Leonato. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

Beatrice. I have a good eye, uncle ; I can see a church by daylight. 7,

Leonato. The revellers arc entering, brother; make good room. \_All put on their jnasks.

ACT J I. SCENE I. 45

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others, masked.

Don Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend ?

Hero. So you walk softly and look sweetly and say noth- ing, I am yours for the walk ; and especially when I walk away.

Don Pedro. With me in your company ?

Hero. I may say so, when I please.

Don Pedro. And when please you to say so ? ^

Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend the lute should be like the case !

Don Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.

Hero. AVHiy, then, your visor should be thatch'd.

Don Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love.

^D rawing her aside.

Balthazar. Well, I would you did like me.

Alargaret. So would not I, for your own sake ; for I have many ill qualities.

Balthazar. Which is one ?

Margaret. I say my prayers aloud. go

Balthazar. I love you the better; the hearers may cry Amen.

Afargaret. God match me with a good dancer !

Balthazar. Amen.

Margaret. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done ! Answer, clerk.

Balthazar. No more words ; the clerk is answered.

Ursula. I know you well enough ; you are Signior An^ tonio.

Antonio. At a word, I am not. loo

Ursula. I know you by the waggling of your head.

Antonio. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

Ursula. You could never do him so ill-well, unless you

«6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

were rhe very man. Here 's his dry hand up and down , you are he, you are he.

Antonio. At a word, I am not.

Ursula. Come, come, do you think I do not know you bv your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he ; graces will appear, and there 's an end.

Bc-atrice. Will you not tell me who told you so ? no

Benedick. No, you shall pardon me.

Beatrice. Nor will you not tell me who you are?

Benedick. Not now.

Beatrice. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the 'Hundred Merry Tales:* — well, this was Signior Benedick that said so.

Benedick. What 's he ?

Beatrice. 1 am sure you know him well enough.

Benedick. Not I, believe me.

Beatrice. Did he never make you laugh ? 120

Benedick. I pray you, what is he ?

Beatrice. Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool ; only his 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 an- gers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet ; I would he had boarded me.

Benedick. When I know the gentleman, I 'II tell him what you say. 129

Beatrice. 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 par- tridge wing saved, for the fool w^ill eat no supper that night. [Afusic] We must follow the leaders.

Benedick. In every good thing.

Beatrice. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Dance. Then exeunt all except Don

yohn, Borachio, and Claudia.

ACT II. SCENE I

47

Don 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. 140

Borachio. And that is Claudio j I know him by his bear- ing.

Don jtohn. Are not 50U Signior Benedick ?

Claudio. You know me well ; I am he.

Don jfohfi. 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.

Claudio. How know you he loves her?

Don John. I heard him swear his affection. 139

Borachio. So did I too ; and he swore he would many her to-night.

Don Jtohn. Come, let us to the banquet.

\Ex:uJii Don John ami Borachio.

Claudia. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. *T is certain so ; the prince wooes for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affliirs of love : Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues ; Let every eye negotiate for itself sGa

And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero !

Re-enUr Benedick.

Bencdiik. Count Claudio?

Claudio. Yea, the same.

BcncJiik. Come, will you go with me ?

Claudio. Whither.^ les

BauuiiJz. Even to the next willow, about your own bust

3 MUCH ADD ABOUT NOTIIIXG.

ness, county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an usurer's chahi ? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero.

Claudio. I wish him joy of her.

Benedick. Why, that 's spoken like an honest drovier; so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus?

Claudio. I pray you, leave me.

Benedick. Ho! now you strike like the blind man ; 't was the boy that stole your meat, and you '11 beat the post. 180

Claudio. If it will not be, I '11 leave you. \^Exit.

Benedick. 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 -nto her person, and so gives me out. Well, I '11 be revenged as I may. i8s

Re-enter Don Pedro.

Don Pedro. Now, signior, where 's the count? did you see him ?

Benedick. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren: I told him, and I think I told him true, that your grace had got the good will of this young lady ; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a gar- land, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped.

Don J\dro. To be whipped ! WHi at 's his fault ? ig)

Benedick. The flat transgression of a school-boy, who, be- iriK overjoyed with finding a biid's nest, shows it his com- panion, and he steals it.

ACT II. SCENE I.

49

Don Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? The transgression is in the stealer.

Benedick. 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 have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen his bird's nest.

Don Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. 21c

Benedick. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly.

Don Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you ; the gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you.

Benedick. O, she misused me past the endurance of a block ! an oak but with one green leaf on it would have an- swered 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 thaw ; huddling jest upon jest with such impossible convey- ance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and ev- ery word stabs : if her breath were as terrible as her termi- nations, 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 trans- gressed ; she would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his clab to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her ; you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel, I would to God some scholar would conjure her ; for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary ; and people sin upon purpose, be- cause they would go thither: so, indeed, all disquiet, hor- ror, and perturbation follows her. 235

Don Pedro Lock, here she comes.

D

CO MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Hero, and Leonato.

Benedick. Will your grace command me any service to the world's end? 1 will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on ; I will fetch vou a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of Prester John's foot, fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard, do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me? 244

Don Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.

Benedick. O God, sir, here 's a dish I love not ; I cannot endure my Lady Tongue. \^Exit.

Don Pedro. Come, lady, come ; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick.

Beatrice. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile ; and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one : marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, there- fore your grace may well say I have lost it.

Don Pedro. You have put him down, lad}', you have put him down. 255

Beatrice. So I would not he should do me, my lord. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.

Don Pedro. Why, how now, count ! wherefore are you sad ?

Claudio. Not sad, my lord.

Don Pedro. How then ? sick ?

Claudio. Neither, my lord.

Beatrice. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well ; but civil count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.

Don Pedro. V faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true ; though, I '11 be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is fiilse. — Here, Claudio, 1 have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won ; 1 have broke with her father, and his good will obtained : name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy! 269

ACT II. SCENE I

51

Leofiato. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes; his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it !

Beatrice. Speak, count, 't is your cue.

Claudio. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy ; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. — Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange.

Beatrice. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, slop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither.

Don Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. 2S0

Beatrice. Yea, my lord ; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on tlie windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart.

Claudio. And so she doth, cousin.

Beatrice. Good Lord, for alliance ! — Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburnt ; I may sit in a cor- ner and cry heigh-ho for a husband !

Don Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. * 288

Beatrice. I would rather have one of vour father's orettins:. Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you .'' Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

Do7i Pedro. Will you have me, lady 1

Beatrice. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working-days ; your grace is too costly. to wear every da3\ But, I beseech your grace, pardon me ; I was born to speak ail mirth and no matter.

Don Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be mer- ry best becomes you ; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. 299

Beatrice. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried ; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born. — Cous- ins, God give you joy !

Leonato. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?

Beatrice. I cry you mercy, urcle. — Bv your grace's pardon.

\Exit.

C2 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Don Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.

Lconato. There 's Httle of the melancholy element in her, mv lord : she is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then ; for I have heard my daughter say, she liath often dreamed of unhappiness and waked herself with laui;hing. 310

Don Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.

Lconato. O, by no means ; she mocks all her w'ooers out of suit.

Don Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.

Lconato. O Lord ! my lord, if they were but a week mar- ried, they would talk themselves mad.

Don Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go to church ?

Claudio. To-morrow, my lord j time goes on crutches till love have all his rites, 320

Leonato. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief, too, to have all things answer my mind.

Don Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breath- ing ; 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 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. 331

Leonato. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchincrs.

Claudio. And I, my lord.

Don I^edro. And you too, gentle Hero?

ILero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband.

Don L^edro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest hus- band that I know. Thus far can I praise him : he is of a

ACT 11. SCENE If,

53

noble strain, o5 approved valour and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how 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, 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.

Doti John. It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.

Borachio. Yea, my lord ; but I can cross it.

DoJi John. 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?

Borachio. Not honestl}', my lord ; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

Don jfohn. Show me briefly how. lo

Borachio. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentle- woman to Kero.

Doii John. I remember.

Borachio. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window.

Don John. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage ? i8

Borachio. 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 contam- inated stale, such a one as Hero.

-, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Vofi john. AVhat proof shall I make of that?

Boracliio. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue ?

Don yohn. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. 29

Borachio. Go, then ; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and 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 liks to be cozened with the semblance of a maid — that you have discovered thus. I'hey will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances; which shall bear no less likeli- hood than to see me at her chamber-window, hear me call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio ; and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, — for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent, — and there shall appe?r such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty that jealousy shall be called assurance and all the preparation overthrown. 44

Don yohn. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.

Borachio. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cun- ning shall not shame me. 49

Don John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage.

\Exeunt.

Scene HI. Leonato'' s Orchard. Enter Benedick. Benedick. Bo}- !

Enter Boy. Boy. Signior?

ACT 11. SCENE III.

55

Bejiedick. In my chamber -window lies a book; bring it hitiier to me in the orchard.

Boy. I am here aheady, sir. 5

Benedick. I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again. \^Exit Boy.] I do much wonder 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 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 had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe : I have known when he would have walked ten mile afoot 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; and now is he turned orthography: 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 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 '11 none ; virtuous, or I 'II 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 haiiL-shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and Monsieur Love ! I will hide me in the arbour. [ IViihdraws.

Efifer Don Pedro, Claudio, ajid Leonato, folkwed by Balthazar and Musicians.

Don Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music? 33

c6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Chiudio. Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is. As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony !

Don Fcdro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself?

Claiidio. O, very well, my lord ; the music ended, We '11 fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.

Don Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we '11 hear that song again.

Balthazar. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice 40 To slander music any more than once.

Don Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency To put a strange face on his own perfection. I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.

Balthazar. 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.

Don Pedro. Now, pray thee, come ;

Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument. Do it in notes.

Balthazar. Note this before my notes : 50

There 's not a note of mine that 's worth the noting.

Don Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks : Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing. \Music,

Benedick. Now, divine air ! now is his soul ravished 1 Is it not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out of men's bodies.'' Well, a horn for my money, when ail 's done.

The Song.

Balthazar. Sigh no 7no?'e, ladies, sigh no md'Cy

Men were deceivers ever^ One foot in sea and one on she re ^

To one thing constant never ; 60

Then sigh not so, but let them gOy

And be you blithe and bonny. Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, non?iy.

ACT 11. SCENE III.

57

Sing no 7?wre ditties^ sing no inoCy

Of dumps so dull and heuTy ; The fraud of men was ever so,

Since summer frst was leavy : Then sigh fiot so, etc.

Don Pedro. By my troth, a good song. 70

Balthazar. And an ill singer, my lord.

Doji Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift.

Benedick. 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.

Don Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music ; for to-morrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber-window. 80

Balthazar. The best I can, my lord.

Don Pedro. Do so ; farewell. S^Exif Balthazar?^ Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick?

Claudio. O, ay : stalk on, stalk on ; the fowl sits. — I did never think that lady would have loved any man.

Leonato. No, nor I neither ; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. 89

Benedick. Is 't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

Leonato. 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.

Don Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit.

Claudio. Faith, like enough.

Leonato. O God, counterfeit ! There was never counter- felt of passion came so near the life of passion as she dis- covers it.

Don Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she?

eg MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Claiidio. Bait the hook well ; this fish will bite. lo^

Lconato. What effects, my lord ? She will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how.

CliJudio. She did, indeed.

Don Fcdro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me; I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.

Z^conato. I would have sworn it had, my lord ; especially against Benedick.

Benedick. I should think this a gull, but that the white- bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide him- self in such reverence. ' III

Claudia. He hath ta'en the infection ; hold it up.

Don Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Bene- dick ?

Lconato. No, and swears she never will; that 's her tor- ment.

Clandio. 'T is 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 ?' 119

Lconato. This savs she now when she is bejrinninn: 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.

Clandio. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.

L.conato. O, when she had writ it and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet .'*

Clandio. That. 12S

Lconato. O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence ; 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 1 love him, I should.'

Clandio. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps,

ACT II. SCENE III.

59

sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, cries, ' O sweet Benedick ! God give nie patience !'

Leonato. 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. 140

Don Ped)o. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.

Claudio. To what end? He would but make a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse.

Don Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She 's an excellent sweet lady ; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.

Claudio. And she is exceeding wise.

Doti Pedro. In every thing but in loving Benedick. 149

Leonato. O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, w^e 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.

Don Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me \ I would have dafifed all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say.

Leonato. Were it good, think you ?

Claudio. 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. 162

Don Pedro. She doth well : if she should make tender of her love, 't is very possible he '11 scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

Claudio. He is a very proper man.

Don Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward hnppi ness.

Claudio. Fore God, and, in my mind, very wise.

5o MUCH ADO ABOUT A'OTHliVG.

Don Pedro. He dolh indeed show some sparks that are like wit. ^71

Lionaio. And I take him to be valiant.

Don Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the man- aging of quarrels you may say he is wise ; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them wuh a most Christian-like fear.

Lconato. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace ; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

Don 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 ? 1S3

Claudio. Never tell him, my lord ; let her wear it out with good counsel.

Lconato. Nay, that 's impossible ; she may wear her heart out first.

Don Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daugh- ter ; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well ; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady. 191

Leonato. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.

Claudio. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation.

Don Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman 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. 20a

]^Exeunt Don Pedro ^ Claudia^ and Leonato.

Benedick. \Comin(:; fonvard\ This can be no trick; the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady ; it seems her affec-

ACT II. SCENE III. 5 1

tions have their full bent. Love me ! why, it must be re- quited. I hear how I am censured : they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love conie from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affec- tion. I did never think to marry : I must not seem proud ; happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair ; 't is a truth, I can bear them witness : and virtuous ; 't is so, I cannot reprove it : and wise, but for loving me ; by my troth, it is no addi- tion to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage ; but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot en- dure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his hu- mour? 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. 223

Enter Beatrice.

Beatrice. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.

Benedick. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

Beatrice. I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me ; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Benedick. You take pleasure then in the message ? 230

Beatrice. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point and choke a daw withal. — You have no stomach, sign- ior ; fare you well. \Exit.

Benedick. Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner;' there 's a double meaning in that. '1 took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to

62

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTIIIXG.

ihiink me ;' that 's as much as to say, Any pahis that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of lier, I am a viihiin ; if 1 i\o not love her, I am a Jew. 1 will go i;et her picture. YExU

"haggards of the rock" (iii. i. 36).

ACT III.

Scene I. Leonato's 0}-chard. Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula.

Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour 5 There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing with the prince and Claudio : Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula

( , MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Walk in the orchard and our whole discourse

Is all of her ; say that thou overheard'st us ;

And bid her steal into the pleached bower,

Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,

Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites.

Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 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.

Margaret. 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, behifid.

Now begin ; For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Close by the ground, to hear our conference.

Ursula. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fisli Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait ; So angle we for Beatrice, who even now Is couched in the woodbine coverture. 30

Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothiiig Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.

[Approaching the dower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful ;

ACT III. SCEiXE I.

65

I know her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock.

Ursula. But are you sure

That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothed lord,

Ursula. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam ?

Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it ; 40

But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Ursula. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a bed As ever Beatrice shall couch upon ?

Hero. O god of love ! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man : But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ; ^o

Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprising what they look on, and her wit Values itself so highly that to her All matter else seems weak : she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection. She is so self-endeared.

Ursula. Sure, I think so ;

And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, 60

But she would spell him backward : if fair-fac'd. She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic, Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed ; If low, an agate very vilely cut ; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none.

E

66 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIXG.

So turns she every man the wrong side out,

And never gives to truth and virtue that

Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 70

Ursula. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.

Htio. No, not to be so odd and from all fashions As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable; But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs,, waste inwardly ; It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. i^

Ursula. Yet tell her of it ; hear what she will say.

Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, I '11 devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with; one doth not know How much an ill word may empoison liking.

Ursula. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment — Having so swift and excellent a wit

As she is priz'd to have — as to refuse 90

So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.

Ht-ro. He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Ursula. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour. Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.

Ursula. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it., Wlien are you married, madam ? 100

Hero. Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in ; I 'II show thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish mc to morrow.

ACT III. SCENE II.

67

Ursula. She 's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught her, madam.

Hero. If it proves so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

[Exeunt Hero and Ursula.

Beatrice. \Coming forward^ What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?

Stand 1 condemn'd for pride and scorn so much ? Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu !

No glory lives behind the back of such. no

And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand: If thou dost love, ray kindness shall incite thee

To bind our loves up in a holy band ; For others say thou dost deserve, and I Relieve it better than reportingly. \Exit.

Scene II. A Room i7i Leonatds House. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.

Don Ped7'0. I do but stav till vour marriasre be consum- mate, and then go I toward Arragon.

Claudio. I '11 bring you thither, my lord, if you '11 vouch- safe me.

Do7i Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company ; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth : he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as a bell and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks. 12

Benedick. Gallants, I am not as I have been.

Leonato. So say I ; methinks you are sadder.

Claudio. I hope he be in love.

^8 MCCn ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Don 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.

Benedick. 1 have the toothache.

Don Pedro. Draw it. 20

Benedick. Hang it !

Claudia. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.

Don Pedro. What ! sigh for the toothache ?

Lconato. Where is but a humour or a worm ?

Benedick. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.

Claudia. Yet say I, he is in love. 27

Don Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow, or in the shape of two countries 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 ap- pears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you w^ould have it appear he is.

Claudia. If he be not in love \\\\\\ some woman, there is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat o' mornings; what should that bode ?

Don Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? 39

Claudia. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls.

Leonato. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.

Don Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet; can you smell iiim out by that ?

Claudia. That 's as much as to say, the sweet youth 's in love.

Don Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. Claudia. And when was he wont to wash his face? 50

ACT III. SCENE II.

69

Don Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.

Claudio. Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string and now governed by stops.

Don Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him ; con- clude, conclude he is in love.

Claudio. Nay, but I know who loves him.

Don Pedro. That would I know too; I warrant, one that knows him not.

Claudio. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him. 61

Don Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards.

Betiedick. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. — Old signior, walk aside with me; I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear. S^Exeunt Benedick a?id Leonato.

Don Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.

Claudio. 'T is even so. Hero and Maro^aret have bv this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. 70

Enter Don John.

Do7i John. My lord and brother, God save you !

Don Pedro. Good den, brother.

Don jfohn. If your leisure served, I would speak with you.

Do7i Pedro. In private ?

Don John. If it please you : yet Count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of concerns him.

Don Pedro. What 's the matter?

Do7i JoJm. \_To Claudio^ Means your lordship to be mar- ried to-morrow ?

Don Pedro. You know he does. 80

Do?t jfohn. I know not that, when he know^s what I know.

Claudio. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.

Don jfohn. You may think I love you not; let that ap-

yo MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

pear 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 mar- riage,— surely suit ill spent and labour ill bestowed.

Don Pedro. Why, what 's the matter?

Don John. I came hither to tell you ; and, circumstances shortened, for she has been too long a talking of, the lady is disloyal. * 91

Claudio. Who .'' Hero ?

Don John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.

Claudio. Disloyal .'*

Don jtohn. The word is too good to paint out her wicked- ness ; I could say she were worse : think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further war- rant; 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. 102

Claudio. May this be so ?

Don Pedro. I will not think it.

Don John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know: if you will follow me, 1 will show you enough ; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly,

Claudio. 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. m

Don Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.

Don John. I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses ; bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself.

Don Pedro. O day untowardly turned !

Claudio. O mischief strangely thwarting ! nS

ACT III. SCENE III. 71

Don John. O plague right well prevented ! so will you say when you have seen the sequel. \jExeunt.

Scene III. A Street. Enter Dogberry and Verges with the Watch.

Dogberry. Are you good men and true ?

Verges. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul.

Dogberry. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince's watch.

Verges. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.

Dogberry. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable ?

1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacole ; for they can write and read. "

Dogberry. Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed you with a good name; to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature.

2 Watch. Both which, master constable, —

Dogberry. You have ; I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it ; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity. You are thouo:ht here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch ; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge : you shall comprehend all vagrom men ; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's name.

2 Watch. How if a' will not stand .'* 24

Dogberry. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a knave.

Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince's subjects.

y2 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Dogberry. True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince's subjects. — You shall also make no noise in the streets ; for for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured. 33

Watch. We will rather sleep than talk ; we know what belongs to a watch.

Dogberry. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watciiman ; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed. 40

IVatc/i. How if they will not?

Dogberry. Why, then, let them alone till they are sober ; if they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for.

Watch. Well, sir.

Dogberry. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man ; and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make w^ith them, why, the more is for your honesty.

Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him ? 51

Dogberry. Truly, by your office, you may ; but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled : the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show him- seli what he is and steal out of your company.

Verges. You have been always called a merciful man, pnrtner.

Doglfcrry. Truly, 1 would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.

Verges. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 61

Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?

Dogberry Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child

ACT III. SCENE III. y^

wake her with crying ; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats.

Verges. 'T is very true.

Dogberry. This is the end of the charge : yon, consta- ble, are to present the prince's own person ; if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. 70

Verges. Nay, by 'r lady, that I think a' cannot.

Dogberry. Five shillings to one on 't, with any man that knows the statues, he may stay him : marry, not without the prince be willing ; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against his will.

Verges. By 'r lady, I think it be so.

Dogberry. Ha, ha, ha ! Well, masters, good night. An there be any matter of weight chances, call up me : keep your fellows' counsels and your own ; and good night. Come, neighbour. 80

Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge ; let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.

Dogberry. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato's door ; for, the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-nTght. Adieu; be vigitant, I beseech you. \^Exeiint Dogberry a?id Verges.

Enter Borachio and Conrade.

Borachio. What, Conrade !

Watch. [Aside] Peace ! stir not.

Borachio. Conrade, I say !

Conrade. Here, man \ I am at thy elbow. 90

Borachio. Mass, and my elbow itched ; I thought there would a scab follow.

Conrade. I will owe thee an answer for that ; and now forward with thy tale.

Borachio. Stand thee dose, then, under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain ; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.

- , MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Watch. \^Asitic\ Some treason, masters ; yet stand close.

Borachio. Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. loo

Conradc. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?

Borachio. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany should be so rich ; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will.

Conradc. I wonder at it.

Borachio. That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou know- est that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is noth- ing to a man.

Conradc. Yes, it is apparel.

Borachio. I mean, the fashion. no

Conradc. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.

Borachio. Tush ! I may as well say the fool 's the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is?

Watch. [Aside] I know that Deformed ; a' has been a vile thief this seven year: a' goes up and down like a gen- tleman. I remember his name.

Borachio. Didst thou not hear somebody ?

Conradc. No ; 't was the vane on the house. ii8

Borachio. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is ? how giddily a' turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty ? sometime fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy painting, some- time like god Bel's priests in the old church-window, some- time like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry.

Conrade. All this I see ; and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ? i2g

Borachio. Not so, neither : but know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window,

ACT III. SCENE III. 75

bids me a thousand times good night, — I tell this tale vile- ly : — I should first tell thee how the prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar otT in the orchard this amiable en- counter.

Conrade. And thought they Margaret was Hero ? 138

Borachio. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio ; but the devil my master knew she was Margaret : and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged ; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o'er-night and send her home again without a husband.

1 Watch. We charge you, in the prince's name, stand !

2 Watch. Call up the right master constable. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. 151

1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them : I know him ; a' wears a lock.

Conrade. Masters, masters, —

2 Watch. You '11 be made bring Deformed forth, I war- rant you.

Conrade. Masters, —

I Watch. Never speak ; we charge you, let us obey you to go with us.

Borachio. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, be- ing taken up of these men's bills. i6i

Conrade. A commodity in question, I warrant you. — Come, we '11 obey you. \Exeu7it

76

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Scene IV. Herd's Apartmetii. Enter Hero, Margaret, afid Ursula.

Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise.

Ursula. I will, lady.

Hero. And bid her come hither.

Ursula. Well. \Exit.

Margarei. Troth, I think your other rabato were better.

Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I '11 wear this.

Afargaret. By my troth, 's not so good : and I warrant your cousin will say so.

Hero. My cousin 's a fool, and thou art another; I '11 wear none but this. n

Afargaret. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner ; and your gown 's a most rare fashion, i' faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so.

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.

Margaret. By my troth, 's but a night-gown in respect of yours : cloth o' gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts round, under- borne with a bluish tinsel ; but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on 't. 21

Hero. God give me joy to wear it ! for my heart is ex- ceeding heavy.

Afargaret. 'T will be heavier soon by the weight of a man.

Hero. Fie upon thee ! art not ashamed .''

Afargaret. Of what, lady.-* of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, 'saving your reverence, a' husband:' an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I '11 offend nobody ; is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband?' None, I think,

ACT III. SCENE IV.

77

an it be the right husband and the right wife ; otherwise

't is light, and not heavy : ask my Lady Beatrice else ; here

she comes. 34

Efiter Beatrice.

Hero. Good morrow, coz.

Beatrice. Good morrow, sweet Hero. . Hero. Why, how now? do you speak in the sick tune ?

Beatrice. I am out of all other tune, methinks.

Margaret. Clap 's into 'Light o' love ;' that goes without a burden : do you sing it, and I '11 dance it. 4°

Beatrice. Yea, light o' love, with your heels ! then, if your husband have stables enough, you '11 see he shall lack no barns.

Margaret. O illegitimate construction ! I scorn that with my heels.

Beatrice. 'T is almost five o'clock, cousin ; 't is time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill ; heigh-ho !

Margaret. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ?

Beatrice. For the letter that begins them all, H.

Margaret. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there 's no more sailing by the star. 51

Beatrice. What means the fool, trow .?

Margaret. Nothing I ; but God send every one their heart's desire !

Hero. These gloves the count sent me; they are an ex- cellent perfume.

Beatrice. I am stuffed, cousin ; I cannot smell.

Margaret. A maid, and stuffed ! there 's goodly catching of cold.

Beatrice. O, God help me ! God help me ! how long have you professed apprehension } 61

Margaret. Ever since you left it. Dotli not my wit be- come me rarely ?

Beatrice. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.

78

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Margaret. Get you some of this distilled Carduus Bene- dictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero. There thou prickest her with a thistle.

Beatrice. Benedictus ! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. 71

Afargaret. Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral mean- ing; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love ; nay, by 'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list, nor I list not to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that vou can be in love. Yet Benedick v;as such another, and now is he become a man ; he swore he would never marry, aiid yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging: and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do.

Beatrice. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps ? 83

Margaret. Not a false gallop.

Enter Ursula.

Ursula. Madam, withdraw ; the prince, the count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church.

Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ur- sula. \Exeunt.

Scene V. Another Room in Leonatd's House. Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.

I.eonato. What would you with me, honest neighbour?

Dogberry. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly.

I.eonato. Brief, I pray you ; for you see it is a busy tim'j wit!) me.

AC J- III. SCENE V.

79

Dogberry. Marry, this it is, sir.

Verges. Yes, in truth it is, sir.

Leo?iato. What is it, my good friends?

Dogberry. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a httle off the matter : an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire they were ; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows. 12

Verges. Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man liv- ing that is an old man and no honester than I.

Dogberry. Comparisons are odorous ; palabras, neighbour Verges.

Leonato. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogberry. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers ; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. 21

Leonato. All thy tediousness on me, ah ?

Dogberry. Yea, an 't were a thousand pound more than 't is ; for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.

Verges. And so am I.

Leonato. I would fain know what you have to say.

Verges. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. 31

Dogberry. A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out. God help us ! it is a v/orld to see. — Well said, i' faith, neighbour Verges : well, God 's a good man ; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. — An honest soul, i' faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread; but God is to be worshipped; all men are not alike ; alas, good neighbour !

Leonato. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.

Dogberry. Gifts that God gives. 40

3o MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Ltvnafo. I must leave you.

Dogbcrrv. One word, sir : our watch, sir, have indeed com- l^rchended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.

Lconato. Take their examination yourself and bring it me ; I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.

Dogberry. It shall be suffigance.

Lconato. Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well.

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger. My lord, they stay for you to give your daugh- ter to her husband. 50

Lconato. I '11 wait upon them ; I am ready.

\_Exeunt Lconato and Messenger.

Dogberry. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Sea- cole ; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now to examine those men.

Verges. And we must do it wisely.

Dogberry. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you : here 's that shall drive some of them to a non-come: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol, \_Exeunt.

THE CATHEDRAL OF MESSINA.

ACT IV.

Scene L A Church.

Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Frtar Francis. Claudio, Benedick, Hero, Beatrice, and Attendants.

Leonato. Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular du- ties afterwards.

g, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Friar Francis. You come hither, \w\' lord, to marry this lady.

Claudia. No.

Lconato. To be married to her; friar, you come to marry her.

Friar Francis. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count. lo

Hero. I do.

Friar Francis. If either of you know any inward impedi- ment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utter it.

Claudio. Know you any, Hero ?

Hero. None, my lord.

Friar Francis. Know you any, count?

Leonato. I dare make his answer, none.

Claudio. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men dailv do, not knowinij what thev do ! 20

Benedick. How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as, ah, ha, he !

Claudio. Stand thee by, friar. — Father, by your leave : Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid, your daughter ?

Leonato. As freely, son, as God did give her me.

Claudio. And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?

Don Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.

Claudio. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. There, Leonato, take her back again : 31

Give not this rotten orange to your friend ; She 's but the sign and semblance of her honour. Behold how like a maid she blushes here ! O, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal ! Comes not that blood as modest evidence To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,

ACT IV, SCENE I. 3^

All you that see her, that she were a maid,

By these exterior shows? But she is none: 40

She knows the heat of a luxurious bed ;

Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.

Leonato. What do you mean, my lord ?

Claudio. Not to be married.

Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.

Leonato. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth. And made defeat of her virginity, —

Claudio. I know what you would say. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large ; But, as a brother to his sister, show'd 50

Bashful sincerity and comely love.

Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you ?

Claudio. Out on thy seeming ! I will write against it : You seem to me as Dian in her orb. As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown ; But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals That rage in savage sensuality.

Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide ?

Leofiato. Sweet prince, why speak not you.-*

Don Pedro. Wliat should I speak ?

I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about 61

To link my dear friend to a common stale.

Leo7iato. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?

Don yohn. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true

Benedick. This looks not like a nuptial.

Hero. True ! O God \

Claudio. Leonato, stand I here ? Is this the prince? is this the prince's brother? Is this face Hero's ? are our eyes our own ?

Leonato. All this is so ; but what of this, my lord ?

Claudio. Let me but move one question to your daughter ;

g^ MUCH ADO ABOMT NOTHIXG.

And, by that fiitherly and kindly power 71

That you hav-e in her, bid her answer truly.

Leonato. 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?

Claudio. To make you answer truly to your name.

HiTO. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name Wiih any just reproach?

Claudio. Marry, that can Hero ;

Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.

What man was he talk'd with you yesternight 80

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.

Don 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 Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ; Who hath indeed, most like a' liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had cjo

A thousand times in secret.

Don John. Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my lord, Not to be spoke o^;

There is not chastity enough in language Without offence to utter them. — Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

Claudio. O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been^ If half thy outward graces had been plac'd .About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart ! lUit fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, 100

Thou pure impiety and impiouspurity ! Yo\ 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 ii more be gracious.

ACT IV. SCEiXE I.

85

Leonato. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?

[Hero swoons.

Beatrice. Why, how now, cousin ! wherefore sink you down?

Don yohn. Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light. Smother her spirits up.

\_Exeu?it Don Pedro, Don yohn, and Claudio.

Befudick. How doth the lady?

Beatrice. Dead, I think. — Help, uncle! —

Hero! why, Hero ! — Uncle! — Signior Benedick ! — Friar!

Leonato. O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand. m

Death is the fairest cover for her shame That may be wish'd for.

Beatrice. How now, cousin Hero!

Briar Francis. Have comfort, lady.

Leonato. Dost thou look up?

Briar Francis. Yea, wherefore should she not ?

Leo?tato. Wherefore! Why, 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 e^es : lax

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. Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? O, one too much by thee ! Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not with charitable hand

Took up a beggar's issue at my gates, i3<

Who smirched thus and mir'd with infamy, I might have said ' No part of it is mine ; This shame derives itself from unknown loins?' But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much

36 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

That I m3'self was to myself not mine,

Valuing of her, — why, she, O, she is fallen

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 140

To her foul-tainted flesh !

Benedick. Sir, sir, be patient.

For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, 1 know not what to say.

Beatrice. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied !

Benedick. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?

Beatrice. No, truly not ; although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.

Leonato. 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, 150

Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her ! let her die.

Friar Francis. Hear me a little ; For I have only silent been so long, And given way unto this course of fortune. By noting of the lady: I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ; And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, x'io

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, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Under some biting error.

Leonato. Friar, it cannot be.

ACT IV. SCEiXE I. 87

Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left

Is that she will not add to her damnation 170

A sin of perjury; she not denies it:

\Vh^ seek'st thou then to cover with excuse

That which appears in proper nakedness?

Friar Francis. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?

Hero. They know that do accuse me ; I know none : If I know more of any man alive Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy! — O my father, Prove you that any man with me convers'd At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 180

Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death !

Friar Francis. There is some strange misprision in the princes.

Benedick. 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.

Leonato. 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. 190

Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means. Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind, Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means and choice of friends. To quit me of them throughly.

Friar Francis. Pause awhile,

And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princes left for dead : aoo

Let her awhile be secretly kept in,

88

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

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 'I'hat appertain unto a burial.

Lconato. What shall become of this? what will this do?

Friar Francis. 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, 210

But on this travail look for greater birth. She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Upon the instant that she was accus'd. 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 lo'ot, \\'hy, 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: 220

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 Siiall come apparell'd in more precious habit, More moving, delicate, and full of life. Into the eye and prospect of his soul. Than when she liv'd indeed ; then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest in his liver,

And wish he had not so accused her, 230

No, though he thought his accusation true. T>et 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

ACT IK SCENE J.

89

Will quench the wonder of her infamy;

And if it sort not well, you may conceal lier,

As best befits her wounded reputation,

In some reclusive and religious life, 240

Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.

Benedick. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you j 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.

Leonato. Being that I flow in grief,

The smallest twine may lead me.

Friar Francis. 'T is well consented : presently away;

For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. - 250 Come, lady, die to live : this wedding-day

Perhaps is but prolong'd ; have patience and endure.

\Fxeutit all but Benedick and Beatrice.

Betiedick. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while ?

Beatrice. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.

Be7iedick. I will not desire that.

Beatrice. You have no reason ; I do it freely.

Benedick. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.

Beatrice. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her !

Benedick. Is there any way to show such friendship ? 260

Beatrice. A very even way, but no such friend.

Benedick. May a man do it ?

Beatrice. It is a man's office, but not yours.

Benedick. I do love nothing in the world so well as you ; is not that strange ?

Beatrice. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you : but believe me not ; and yet I lie not ; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. — I am sorry for my cousin.

oo MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Benedick. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. 270

Beatrice. Do not swear by it, and eat it.

Benedick. I will swear by it that you love me ; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you.

Beatrice. U'ill you not eat your word t

Benedick. \\'ith no sauce that can be devised to it. I pro- test I love thee.

Beatrice. Why, then, God forgive me !

Benedick. What offence, sweet Beatrice ?

Beatrice. You have stayed me in a happy hour; I was about to protest I loved you. 280

Benedick. And do it with all thy heart.

Beatrice. I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.

Benedick. Come, bid me do any thing for ihee.

Beatrice. Kill Claudio.

Benedick. Ha ! not for the wide world.

Beatrice. You kill me to deny it. Farewell.

Benedick. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

Beatrice. I am gone, though I am here ; there is no love in you. — Nay, I pray you, let me go. 290

Benedick. Beatrice, —

Beatrice. In faith, I will go.

Benedick. We '11 be friends first.

Beatrice. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.

Benedick. Is Claudio thine enemy "i

Beatrice. 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 slanrler, unmitigated rancour,— O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. 302

Benedick. Hear me, Beatrice, —

Beatrice. Talk with a man out at a window ! A proper saying !

ACT IV. SCENE //.

91

Benedick. Nay, but, Beatrice, —

Beatrice. Sweet Hero ! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.

Benedick. Beat —

Beatrice. 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 courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only 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.

Beficdick. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.

Beatrice. Use it for my love some other way than swear- ing by it. 121

Benedick. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero ?

Beatrice. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.

Benedick. 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 accouiit. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin ; I must say she is dead : and so, farewell. [Exeunt.

Scene II. A Prison.

Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Sexton, in goiuns; and the

Watch, with Conrade aJid Borachio.

Dogberry. Is our whole dissembly appeared ? Verges. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. Sexton. Which be the malefactors? Dogberry. Marry, that am I and my partner. Verges. Nay, that 's certain; we have the exhibition to ex- amine.

^2 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be exam- ined ? let them come before master constable.

Dogberry. Yea, marry, let them come before me.— AVhat is your name, friend ? lo

Borachio. Borachio.

Dogberry. Pray, write down, Borachio. — Yours, sirrah?

Conradc. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.

Dogberry. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. — Mas- ters, do you serve God .'*

Conrade. ) ,. . ,

J . \ Yea, sir, we hope. Borachio. )

Dogberry. Write down, that they hope they serve God '- and write God first ; for God defend but God should go be- fore such villains! — Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves ; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves ? 21

Conrade. Marry, sir, we say we are none.

Dogberry. 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.

Borachio. Sir, I say to you we are none.

Dogberry. Well, stand aside. — Fore God, they are both in a tale. — Have you writ down, that they are none?

Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way to examine: you must call forth the watch that are their accusers. 31

Dogberry. Yea, marry, that 's the eftest way. — Let the watch come forth. — Masters, I charge you, in the prince's name, accuse these men.

I Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's brother, was a villain.

Dogberry. Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain.

Borachio. Master constable, —

Dogberry. Pray thee, fellow, peace ; I do not like thy look, 1 promise thee.. 41

ACT IV. SCENE IF.

93

Sexton. What heard you him say else ?

2 Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.

Dogberry. Flat burglary as ever was committed.

Verges. Yea, by the mass, that it is.

Sexton. What else, fellow ?

I IVatch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. 50

Dogberry. O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into ever- lasting redemption for this.

Sexton. What else ?

Watch. This is all.

Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen 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 examination. [^Exit.

Dogberry. Come, let them be opinioned. 61

Verges. Let them be in the hands —

Conrade. Off, coxcomb !

Dogberry. God 's my life, where 's the sexton ? let him write down the prince's officer coxcomb. — Come, bind chem. — Thou naughty varlet ! .

Conrade. Away ! you are an ass, you are an ass. 67

Dogberry. 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 downi, yet 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 householder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messi- na, and one that knows the law, go :o ; and a rich fellow

04 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHLXG.

enouf^h, <^o to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that halli two gowns and every tiling handsome about him.

Bring him away. — O that I had been writ down an ass!

\^Exeuiit

Lt'uuvico AKiusTo i^see p. loj.

hero's tomb.

ACT V.

Scene I. Before Leonato's House. Eiifer Leonato and Antonio.

Antonio. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself; id 't is not wise Against yourself.

And 't is not wisdom thus to second grief

qC MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Lconato. 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 lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, And bid him speak of patience ; lo

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, 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 AV'hich they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread. Charm ache with air and agony with words. No, no ; 't is 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.

Antonio. Therein do men from children nothing differ.

Lconato. I pray thee, peace. I^will be flesh and blood ; I* or there was never yet philosopher 'i'hat could cnchire the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods And made a push at chance and sufferance

ACT V. SCEyE /. ()7

Antonio. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; Make those that do offend you suffer too. ^

Leonato. 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.

Antonio. Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.

Don Pedro. Good den, good den.

Claudio. Good day to both of you.

Leonato. Hear you, my lords, —

Don Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato.

Leonato. Some haste, my lord ! well, fare you well, my lord : Are you so hasty now.'' well, all is one.

Don Ped?'o. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. 50

Antonio. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lie low.

Claudio. Who wrongs him ?

Leonato. Marry, thou dost wrong me ; thou dissembler thou !— Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword ; I fear thee not.

Claudio. Marry, beshrew my hand.

If it should give your age such cause of fear; In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.

Leonato. 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 AVere I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head. Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by, And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to trial of a man.

9

.S MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

I sa\ thou hast belied 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, 7°

Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany !

Claudio. My villany?

Ltonato. Thine, Claudio ; tJiine, I say.

Don Pedro. You say not right, old man.

Lconato. My lord, my lord,

1 *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.

Claudio. Away ! I will not have to do with you.

Lconato. Canst thou so daff me.? Thou hast kill'd my child ; If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.

Antonio. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed : So

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.

Leonato. Brother, —

Antonio. Content yourself. God knows I lov'd my niece; And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, That dare as v*^ell answer a man indeed As I dare take a serpent by the tongue, — 90

Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops !

Lconato. ' Brother Antony, —

Antonio. 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 anlicly, show outward hideousness,

ACT V. SCEXE I. c)()

And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst ; And this is alh

Leojiato. But, brother Antony, —

Antonio, Come, 't is no matter :

Do not you meddle ; let me deal in this. '<^

Don 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 charg'd with nothing But what was true and very full of proof.

Leonato. My lord, my lord, —

Don Pedro. I will not hear you.

Leonato. No? Come, brother, away! I will be heard.

Afitonio. And shall, or some of us will smart for it.

\Exeiint Leonato and Antonio.

Don Pedro. See, see ; here comes the man we went to seek.

Enter Benedick.

Claudio. Now, signior, what news? no

Benedick. Good day, my lord.

Do?i Pedro. Welcome, signior : you are almost come to part almost a fray.

Claudio. We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.

Don Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou ? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.

Benedick. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both. 120

Claudio. We have been up and down to seek thee ; for we are high proof melancholy, and would f\\in have it beaten awav. Wilt thou use thv wit ?

Benedick. It is in mv scabbard ; shall I draw it ?

Don Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit ly tiiy side?

joo MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIXG.

Claudio. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the min- strels ; draw, to pleasure us.

Don Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. — Art thou sick, or angry ? 130

Claudio. W'IkU, courage, man ! "What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Benedick. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.

Claudio. Nay, then, give him another staff; this last was broke cross.

Don Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more ; I think he be angry indeed.

Claudio. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.

Benedick. Shall I speak a word in your ear? 140

Claudio. God bless me from a challenge !

Benedick. [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 coward- ice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.

Claudio. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

Don Pedro. What, a feast, a feast?

Claudio. 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 curi- ously, say my knife 's naught. — Shall I not find a woodcock

too ? 152

Benedick. Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily.

Don Pedro. I '11 tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit : ' True,' said she, * a fine little 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

ACT V. SCEXE /. loi

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, an hour together, trans-shape thy particular virtues ; yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. 165

Claudio. For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not.

Don 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.

Claudio. All, all ; and, moreover, God saw Kim when he was hid in the garden.

Don Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head ?

Claudio. Yea, and text underneath, 'Here dwells Benedick the married man ?' 1-6

Benedick. 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. — My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you ; I must discontinue your company : your brother the bastard is fled from Messina ; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet ; and, till then, peace be with him. \^Exit.

Don Pedro. He is in earnest. i£s

Claudij. In most profound earnest ; and, I '11 warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.

Don Pedro. And hath challenged thee.

Claudio. Most sincerely.

Don Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit ! i9«

Claudio. He is then a giant to an ape ; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.

Don Pedro. But, soft you, let me be ; pluck up, my heart, and be sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled.^

lo;

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Enter Dogberry, Verges, mid the Watch, with Conradiz

and BoRACHio.

Dogberry. 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 must be looked to.

Don Pedro. How now ? two of my brother's men bound ! Borachio one ! 200

Claiidio. Hearken after their offence, my lord.

Don Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done ?

Dogberry. Marry, sir, they have committed false report ; moreover, they have spoken untruths ; secondarily, they are slanders ; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady ; thirdly, they have verified unjust things ; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves,

Don Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done ; third ly, I ask thee what 's their offence ; sixth and lastly, why they are committed ; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge. 211

Claudio. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division ; and, by my troth, there 's one meaning well suited.

Don Pedro. Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood : what 's vour offence ?

Borachio. 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 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

ACT V. SCENE I. ,03

false accusation ; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the re- ward of a villain. 229

Doti Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood ?

Claudia. I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it.

Doti Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this ?

Borachio. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it.

Don Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery ; And fled he is upon this villany.

Claudio. Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first.

Dogberry. Come, bring away the plaintiffs ; by this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter; and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. 241

Verges. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.

Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, with the Sexton.

Leonato. Which is the villain t let me see his eyes, That, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him ; which of these is he .''

Borachio. If you would know your wronger, look on me.

Leonato. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd Mine innocent child?

Borachio. Yea, even I alone.

Leonato. No, not so, villain ; thou beliest thyself: 250

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 ; 'T was bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

Claudio. I know not how to pray your patience ; Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention

J 04 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Can lay upon my sin : yet sinn'd I not But in mistaking.

Do?i Pedro. By my soul, nor I ; 260

And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he '11 enjoin me to.

Leonato. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live; That were impossible : but, I pray you bolh, Possess the people in Messina here How innocert she died ; and if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb

And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night. — 27°

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.

Claudio. O noble sir.

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me ! I do embrace your offer ; and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. 2S0

Leonato. 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, Hir'd to it by your brother.

Borachio. 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. 288

Dogberry. Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass ; I

ACT V. SCENE II.

'05

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 bor- rows money in God's name, the which he haih 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.

Leonato. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.

Dogberry. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth ; and I praise God for you. 300

Leo7iato. There 's for thy pains.

Dogberry. God save the foundation !

Leonato. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.

Dogberry. I leave an arrant knave with your worship ; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship ! I wish your worship well ; God restore you to health ! I humbly give you leave to depart : and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it ! — Come, neighbour. 3jo

\Exeiint Dogbe?-ry and Verges^

Leonato. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.

Antonio. Farewell, my lords ; we look for you to-morrow.

Don Pedro. We will not fail.

Claudio. To-night I '11 mourn with Hero.

Leonato. [To the JVate/i] Bring you these fellows on. — • ^Ve '11 talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

\_Exeimt, severally.

Scene H. Leo?iato's Orchard. Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting.

Benedick. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to tl e speech o{ Beatrice.

io6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Margaret. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty ?

' Beticdiik. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it ; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it.

Margaret. To have no man come over me ! why, shall L always keep below stairs ?

Benedick. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth ; it catches. jq

Margaret. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not.

Benedick. A most manly wit, Margaret ; it will not hurt a woman ; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice : I give thee the bucklers.

Margaret. Give us the swords ; we have bucklers of our own.

Benedick. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice ; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. 20

Margaret. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.

Benedick. And therefore will come. [Exit Margaret.

[Sings] The god of love,

That sits above, And knows me, and knows ;;/<?,

How pitiful I deserve^ — 27

I mean in singing ; but in loving, Leander the good swim- mer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book- ful 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 'bahy,' an innocent rhyme ; for * scorn,' ' horn,' a hard rhyme ; for ' school,' ' fool,' a babbling rhyme ; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. —

ACT V. SCEiVE //.

Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? Beatrice. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.

lo:

Benedick. O, stay but till then

40

Beatrice. ' Then ' is spoken ; fare you well now : and yet, ere I go, let me go with that 1 came; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.

Benedick. Only foul words ; and thereupon I will kiss thee.

Beatrice. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome : therefore I will de- part unkissed.

Benedick. 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; and either I must shortly hear from him, or 1 will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me.^ 53

Beatrice. 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 .''

Benedick. Suffer love ! a good epithet ! I do suffer love in- deed, for I love thee against my will.

Beatrice. In spite of your heart, I think ; alas, poor heart ! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours ; for I will never love that which my friend hates. 02

Benedick. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

Bja trice. It appears not in this confession ; there 's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself.

Benedick. 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.

Beatrice. And how lonir is that, think vou ? 70

loS MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Btucdick. Question : why, an hour in clamour and a quar ter in rheum ; therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the con- trary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to my- self. So much for praising myself, who, 1 myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy; and now tell me, how doth your cousin ?

Beatrice. Very ill.

Be7icdick. And how do you .-^

Beatrice. Very ill too. 80

Benedick. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter Ursula. Ursula. Madam, }ou must come to your uncle. Yonder '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 author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently?

Beatrice. WMU you go hear this news, signior? 88

Benedick. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be

buried in thy eyes ; and moreover I will go with thee to

tliy uncle's. [Exeunt.

Scene III. A Church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and three or four witli tapers.

Claudio. Is this the monument of Leonato.''

A Lord. It is, my lord.

Claudio. [Reading out of a scroll]

Done to death fyy slanderous tongues

Was the Hero that here lies ; Death., in guerdon of hfr 7urongs,

Gives her fatne which never dies. So the life that died ivith shajne Lives in death with glorious fame. 8

ACT F. SCEXE IV. ,09

Hang thou there upon the tomb, \^Affixing it.

Praising her when I am ckimb. Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn iiymn.

Song.

Pardon^ goddess of the nighty 27iose that slew thy virgin knight ; For the ivhich, with songs of woe , Round about her tomb they go.

Mid/light, assist our ?noan ;

Help us to sigh and groan , Heavily^ heavily :

Graves^ yawn and yield your dead,

2111 death be uttered^ 20

Heavily^ heavily.

Claudio. Now, unto thy bones good night ! Yearly will 1 do this rite. DoJt 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.

Claudio. Good morrow, masters ; each his several way. Don Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds ; 30

And then to Leonato's we will go. Claudio. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed 's

Than this for whom we render'd up this woe ! \^Exeunt.

Scene IV. A Rootu in Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret,

Ursula, Friar Francis, and Hero.

Friar Francis. Did I not tell you she was innocent ? Leonato. So are the prince and Claudio, who accus'd her Upon the error that you heard debated ;

no MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question.

Antonio. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.

Benedick. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leonato. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, ,

Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. —

\_Exeunt Ladies. The prince and Claudio promis'd 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.

Antonio. Which I will do with confirmed countenance.

Benedick. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.

Friar Francis. To do what, signior .''

Benedick. 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.

Leonato. That eye my daughter lent her; 't is most true.

Benedick. And I do with an eye of love requite her.

Leonato. The sight whereof I think you had from me. From Claudio, and the prince ; but what 's your will.''

Benedick. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical; 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

\\\ which, good friar, I shall desire your help.

Leonato. My heart is with your liking.

Friar Francis. And my help.—

Here comes the prince and Claudio.

Enter DoN Pedro and Claudio, and two or three others. Don Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly.

ACT F. SCENE IV. m

Leonaio. Good morrow, prince ; good morrow, Claudio : We here attend you. Are you yet determin'd To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?

Claudio. I '11 hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.

Leonato. Call her forth, brother ; here 's the friar ready.

\Exit Antonio.

Don Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. A\'hy, what 's the matter, 40

That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness .''

Claudio. 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 When he would play the noble beast in love.

Benedick. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low ; And some such strange bull leap'd your father's covv, And got a calf in that same noble feat 50

Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.

Claudio. For this I owe you ; here comes other reckon-

Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies masked.

Which is the lady I must seize upon ?

Antonio. This same is she, and I do give you her.

Claudio. Why, then she 's mine. — Sweet, let me see your face.

Leonato. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar and swear to marry her.

Claudio. Give me your hand ; before this holy friar, I am your husband, if you like of me.

Hero. And when I liv'd I was your other wife ; 60

[ Unmasking. And when you lov'd you were my other husband.

Claudio. Another Hero !

112 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Hero. Nothing certainer;

One Hero died defil'd, but I do live, And, surely as I live, I am a maid.

Don Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero that is dead !

Leonato. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd„

Friar Francis. All this amazement can I qualify ; When after that the holy rites are ended, 1 '11 tell you largely of fair Hero's death. Meantime let wonder seem familiar, - 7a

And to the chapel let us presently.

Benedick. Soft and fair, friar. — Which is Beatrice?

Beatrice. \_Unfnasking] I answer to that name. W'hat is your will .''

Benedick. Do not you love me ?

Beatrice. ^Vhy, no ; no more than reason.

Benedick. Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio • Have been deceiv'd ; they swore you did.

Beatrice. Do not you love me ?

Benedick. Troth, no ; no more than reason.

Beatrice. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula Are much deceiv'd ; for they did swear you did.

Benedick. They swore that you were almost sick for me. z<x

Beatrice. They swore that you were well - nigh dead for me.

Benedick. 'T is no such matter. — Then you do not love me ?

Beatrice. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.

Leonato. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentle man.

Claudio. And I '11 be sworn upon 't that he loves her; For here 's a paper written in his hand, A hailing sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice.

ACT V. SCENE IV. u^

HcTO. And here 's anotlicr,

Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her atitcction unto Benediclv. 90

Benedick. A miracle ! here 's our own hands against our hearts. — Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, 1 take thee for pity.

Beatrice. 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 consumption. 96

Benedick. Peace! I will stop your mouth. \^Kissing her.

Don Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

Betiedick. I '11 tell thee what, prince ; a college of wit- crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No; if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him. \\\ brief, since 1 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 unbruised and love my cousin. 109

Claudio. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Bea- trice, 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.

Benedick. Come, come, we are friends ; let 's have a dance ere v^'e are married, that we mav li^rhten our own hearts and our wives' heels.

Leonato. We '11 have dancing afterward.

Benedick. 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.

H

114

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. 124

Benedick. Think not on him till to-morrow; I '11 devise thee brave punishments for him. — Strike up, pipers. yDance.

[^Exeunt.

ARIOSTO S INKSTAND.

NOTES.

ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES.

Abbott (or Gr.), Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar (third edition). A. S., Anglo-Saxon.

A. v., Authorized Version of the Bible (i6ii).

B. and F., Beaumont and Fletcher. V>. J., Ben Jonson.

Camb. ed., " Cambridge edition" oi Shakespeare, edited by Clark and Wright. Cf. Kcoufer), compare. Coll., Collier (second edition).

Coll. MS., Manuscript Corrections of Second Folio, edited by Collier. D., Dyce (second edition). H., Hudson (first edition). Id. (idem'', the same.

J. H., John Hunter's edition oi Much Ado Abotit Nothitig (London, rSja). K , Knight (second edition).

Nares, Glossary, edited by Halliwell and Wright (London, 1859). Prol., Prologue. S , Shakespeare.

Schmidt, A. Sclimidt's Shakespeare-Lexicon (Berlin, 1874). Sr., Singer. St., Staunton. Theo., Theobald. V , V'erplaiicii W., White.

Wa'ker, Wm. Sidney Wa'.ker's Critical Examination 0/ the Text 0/ Shakespeare (London, iS6o\ Warb.. Warburton.

Wb., Webster's Dictionary (revised quarto edition of 1864). Wore, Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition).

Th» abbreviations . f the names of Shakespeare's Plays will be readily understood ; as T. N. for Twelfth NJght, Cor. for Coriola,ius, 3 He7t. VI. for The Third Part 0/ King Henry tlie Sixth, etc. P. P. refers to The Passionate Pilgrim ; V. and A . to I'enus and Adonis ; L. C. to Lover'' s Complaint ; and Sonn. to the Sonnets.

^^■hen the abbreviation of the name of a play is followed by a reference to fage, Rnlfe's edition of the play is meant.

The numbers c^f the lines (except for J>/uch Ado) are those of the "Globe" ed. or CroMcH's reprint of that ed.

NOTES.

'ii/T' '!ii''^'in^'rTT^ir^''''''i|iiilil'MI'ii'ii'!lli'liilii

'iU!

liiH

.J

ACT L

Scene I. — The stage- direction in the folio, as in the quarto, rearls " Enter Leonato Goneruour of Mcosina, I/iiios^cii his ivifc^'' etc. ; but as Innogen neither speaks noi is mentioned during the j^lay, Then. dro])pcd her name trom the list ot drnmiitis f^crsoita. As he suggests, the jioet may at first have intended to introduce her, but afterwards decided to leave her out.

I. Don Pedro. Both the quarto and the folio have "Don Peter" here and in 9 below, but elsewhere " Don Pedro."

3. By this. Cf Afacb. iii, i. 26: " 'Twixt this and supper;" Lear, i. I. 118: "from this for ever," etc.

iiS

A'07'£S.

7. Sort. Possibly = rank (Schmidt), as in 29 below. Cf. I/t-n. V. iv. 7. 142. iv. S. 80, etc.

8. Achit-ner. Used by S. nowhere else.

16. Will be. For the omission of the relative, see Gr. 244. Very mttch glad. We should iK)t now use this expression, though we say "very much pleased," "very much delighted," etc.

19. Joy could not, cic. "Of all the transports of joy, that which is at- tended with tears is least offensive ; because, carrying with it this mark of pain, it allays the envy that usually attends another's happiness. 'I'his he finely calls a modest joy, such an one as did not insult the observer ])y an indication of happiness unmixed with pain" (Waib.). Capell says that the joy " wore the modestest garb that joy can do, that is, silence and tears."

20. Badge. Steevens compares Chapman, Odyssey, x. :

" our eyes wore The same vvei badge of weak humanity ;''

and Macb. i. 4. t^"}^ :

" My plenteous joys, Wanton in fulness, seek to hide iheiubelves In drops of sorrow."

23. A'/ud. Natural (Schmidt). Qi. R. of L. 1423: "Conceit deceit- ful, so compact, so kind." A7//(/«t'j-j' — tenderness. Cf. T. N'. ii. i. 41 : "my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me."

26. Moiitanto. A term in fencing, meaning, according to Cotgrave, " an upright blow or thrust." Cf. M. W. ii. 3. 27 : " thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant." Steevens cites B. J., Every Man in his Hnmotir : "your punto, your reverse, your stoccata, your imbrocata, your passada, your montanto," etc.

29. Sort. See on 7 above.

30. What. Who; as often, "but only in the predicate" (Schmidt). Cf. Temp. V. r. 185 : " W^hat is this maid.'" See also Ham. p. 253 and cf. Gr. 254.

32. Pleasant. Facetious. Cf, Hen. V. i. 2. 259 : " We are glad the Dauphin is so plea.sant with us" (see also 281); JSI. for I\I.\\\.2. 120: " You are pleasant, sir," etc.

34. Set up his bills. That is, posted his challenge, like a prize-fighter. Steevens quotes B. J., Every Man ottf of his Hiimonr : "I have set uj) my bills without discovery;" and Nash, i7<77r With You,t.\.z. : "setting up bills, like a bearward or fencer, what fights we shall have, and what weapons she will meet me at." He also gives this extract from an old MS. : " Item a challenge playde before the King's majestic [Edward VI.] at Westminster, by three maistcrs, Willyam Pascall, Robert Greene, and \y. Browne, at seven kynde of weapons. That is to say, the axe, the pike, the rapier and target, the rapier and cloke, and with two swords, agaynst all alycns and strangers bcing'borne without the King's domin- ions, of what Cfumtrie so ever he or they were, geving them warninge bv theyr bills set up by the three maisters', the space of eight weeks before the sayd challenge was playde ; and it was holdcn four severall Sun-

ACT I. SCENE /. i,,^

dayes one after another." It appears from the same work that all dial lenges " to any maister within the realmc of Englande being an Englishe man " were against the rules of the " Noble Science of Defence." Saint Paul's was a place where these bills or advertisements were much post- ed. Nash, in his Pierce Pcuitilesse, speaks of " maistcrlesse men that set up theyr bills in Paules for services, and such as jjaste up theyr papers on every post for arithmetique and writing schooles."

35. Flight. That is, shooting with \.\\^ flight, tx. kind of long and light- feathered arrow used for great distances. S. uses the word in this sense only here, but it is common in writers of the time. Cf D. and F., Bon- duai: "not a flight drawn home;" Middleton, Gavie of Chess: "dis- charg'd it like a flight,'' etc.

37. Bird-bolt. A short, thick, blunt-headed arrow, shot from a cross- bow and used to kill rooks with. Cf. Marston, What Vvu IVil/:

'■ i<inorai.ce should slioot His gross-knobb'd bird-bolt."

Douce says : " The meaning of the whole is — Benedick, from a vain con- ceit of his influence over women, challenged Cupid at roz'ifig {sl particu- lar kind of archery in which y?/^V/^'-arrows are used) ; in other words, he challenged him to shoot at hearts. l"he fool, to ridicule this piece of van- ity, in his turn challenged Benedick to shoot at crows with the cross-bow and bird-bolt ; an inferior kind of archery used by fools, who, for obvious reasons, were not permitted to shoot with pointed arrows: whence the proverb, ' A fool's bolt is soon shot.' " Cf. A. V. L. v. 4. 67 and /Jen. V. iii. 7. 132. See also Z. L L. iv. 3. 25 and T. A\ i. 5. 100.

39. To eat, etc. Cf. Hen. V. ii. 7. ')9 :

" Rnmhiires. He longs to eat the English. Constable. I think he will eat all he kills."

40. Tax. Reproach, inveigh against. Cf. A. Y. L. ii. 7. 71, 86, Ham. i. 4. 18, iii. 3. 29, etc.

41. Meet with you. Even with you, a match for you. Steevens says that the expression is common in the midland counties, and quotes Hol- iday, i:i.xvo-^a\iia, 1618 : "Go meet her, or else she '11 be meet with mc."

43. Victtial. Elsewhere S. uses the plural. P>acon has both " Vict- ual " and " Victuals " in Essay xxxiii. Cf. Exod. xii. 39 and Josh. i. 1 1.

Holp. S. uses both helped and help as past tense and as particij^le. For the former use of help, see K. John, i. i. 240, Cor. v. 3. 63, etc. ; and for the latter. Temp. i. 2. 63, Rich. II. v. 5. 62, Macb. i. 6. 23, etc. We find holpeii in Ps. Ixxxiii. 8, Dan. xi. 34, etc.

44. Trencher-7nan. Cf. trencher-friend (=^ parasite) in T. of A. iii. 6. 106, and trencher-knight ( = waiter; in L. L. L. v. 2. 464 (cf. 476) ; al>(» Lodge, IVifs Aliserie, 1596: " His doublet is of cast satten cut sometime upon taffata, but that the bumbast hath eaten through it, and sjioticd here and there with pure fat to testifie that he is a good trencher-man."

49. St7iffed. Fully endowed. Cf. R. and J iii. 5. 183 : " Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts ;" and W. T. ii. i. 1S5 : "of stuff'd suffi- ciency." Edwards observes that Mede, in his Discourses on Scripture, S])eaks of Adam as "he whom God had stuffed with so many excellent qualities." Beatrice uses the word contemptuously — stuffed out, padded.

Fannei says that a stuffed man was "one of the many cant phrases for a aukoldy

52. Stuffing, llalliwcll says: "Beatrice seems to use the \.t\\w stuff - tug in a sense analogous to the Latin vestis fartuni ; or, possibly, in rct- erence to his mental qualities."

We are all mortal. One of the affected phrases of the time. Cf. Sir Gvlcs Goosccappe, Knight, 1606 : " Sir Gyles Goosecap has always a deathes head (as it were) in his mouth, for his onely one reason for ev- ery thing is, because wee are all mortall."

37. Five wits. The 7uits, or intellectual powers, seem to have been reckoned as five to correspond with the five senses, which were also called 7uits. Cf. Chaucer, Persones Tale : " the five wittis ; as sight, here- ing, smelling, savouring, and touching." Boswell quotes a prayer by Sir Tiiomas More, in which he asks to be forgiven for his sins "in mispend- ing of my five wittes." Schmidt says that "the proverbial five wits" were "common wit, imagination, fantasy, estimation, memory." In Sonn. 141. 9 we find the two meanings distinguished :

" But my five wits nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving ihee."

59. To keep himself warm. "To have wit enough to keep one's self warm " was a common proverb. Cf. T. of S. ii. I. 268 :

" Fetnichio. Am 1 not wise ? Katharina. Yes ; keep you warm."

Steevens quotes among other examples of the phrase, B. J., Cynthia's Rev- els: "your whole self cannot but be perfectly wise; for your hands have wit enough to keep themselves warm."

Bear it for a difference. That is, for a mark of distinction ; a term in heraldry. Cf. Ham. iv. 5. 183 : "you must wear your rue with a differ- ence."

62. Sworn brother. See Rich. II. p. 208 or A. Y. L. p. 199.

64. Faith. That is, his fidelity as a friend.

65. Block. Still the technical term for the wooden model on which hats are shaped. Cf. Lear, iv. 6. 187 ; "this' a good block." See also Epigramtnes /^ /. Z>., 1596 :

" He weares a hat now of the flat-crowne blocke,

The treble ruffes, long cioake, and doublet French ; He takes tobacco, and doth weare a locke ; And wastes more time in dressing then a wench ;"

and Dekker, Seve7i Deadly Sinnes of London, 1606 : "the blocke for his head alters faster then the feltmaker can fitte him, and thereupon we are called in scorne blockheads,"

66. Not in your books. Evidently = not in favour with you, but the origin of the phrase has been much disputed, Johnson gives it " to be in one's codicils or will, to be among friends set down for legacies." Steevens takes the books to be memorandum-books, or, perhaps, heraldic records (cf. T. of S. ii. i. 225). Farmer says '' to be in a man\^ books orig- inally meant to i)e in the list of his retainers.''' K. explains it as a com- mercial allusion -one to whom you give cretlit. Schmidf, like Steevens,

ACT /. SCENE I. 12 1

decides on "books of memory" (i Hen. VI. ii. 4. lOi and 2 Heti. 17. i.

1. 100), which seems the most plausible explanation.

68. Square): Quaneller, bully. Cf. square — (\wxx\Ci in M. N. D. ii. i. 30, A. and C. ii. I. 45, iii. 3. 41, etc.

74. Presently. Immediately ; the usual meaning in S. Cf. Temp. i.

2. 125, iv. I. 42, V. I, loi, etc.

75. A thousand pound. See Rich. II. p. 182.

77. Hold friends with you. Cf. M.for M. \. 2. 185 :

" Implore her in my voice, that slie make friends To the strict deputy."

89. Charge. Burden, incumbrance (Johnson). Douce thinks it means " the i>erson committed to your care."

94. You have it full. Schmidt explains this as — "you are the man, you vvill do," and compares T. of S. i. i. 203 ; but it seems rather — you get as good as you sent, yen are well answered.

95. Fathers herself. Is like her father ; a ])hrase common in Dorset- shire (Steevens). For the verb, cf. J. C. ii. i. 297, Macb. iv. 2. 27, etc.

lOi. Still. Continually; as in 1 17 below. Gr. 69.

105. Is it possible, tic. Steevens compares Cor. ii. 1.93: "Our very priests must become mockers, if they encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are."

107. Convert. For the intransitive use, cf. A', of L. 592, Macb. iv. 3. 229, Rich. II. v. I. 66, V. 3. 64, etc.

109. Of. By. (Zi. Macb.\\\.(i.2'],t.\.z. Gr. 170.

112. A dear happiness. True good luck. Cf. R. and J. iii. 3. 28: " This is dear mercy."

118. Scape. Not " 'scape," as often printed. See Macb. p. 214 or Wb. s. V.

Predestinate is used by S. nowhere else. For the form, see Gr. 342.

121, Were. The Coll. MS. omits the word.

128. A jade's trick. Cf. A. W. iv. 5. 64: "If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jade's tricks ;" T. and C. ii. I. 21 : "a red mur- rain o' thy jade's tricks !" Yor fjde=-^ worthless or vicious horse, see v.. and A. ^gi, y. C. iv. 2. 26, etc.

139. / a7n not of many ivords. Cf. M.for M. ii. i. 204 : "Are you of fourscore pounds a year?" 0th. v. i. 65: "Are you of good or evil.'" Sir J. Hawkins says : " The poet has judiciously marked the gloominess of Don John's character by making him averse to the common forms of civility."

141. Please it yojir grace, etc. ^Vill it please your grace, etc. Cf. Temp. iii. 3. 42: "Will 't please you taste of what is here.'" The to is sometimes inserted ; as in iii. 5. 18 below: "It pleases your worship to say so," etc. See Gr. 349.

149. Tyrant. That is, one who shows no mercy. Cf. M.for M. ii. 4. 169 : " I '11 prove a tyrant to him."

162. Sad. Serious. Cf. A. V. L. iii. 2. 227: "Speak sad brew and true maid." See also i. 3. 54 and ii. i. 307 below.

Flouting Jack. Cf. l^emp. iv. I. 198: " Monste -, your fairy, which vou say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with

122 NOTES.

us." We h:!i\t Jiout/fig-sfock ( — laughing-stock) in Af. IV. iii. i. 120 and iv, 5. 83. Cf. the use oi flout in ii. 3. 132, v. i. 95, and v. 4. 100 below.

To tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder., etc. This puzzled Johnson and Steevens, but Toilet explains it : "Do you scoff and mock in telling us that Cupid, who is blind, is a good hare-finder, which requires a quick eye-sight; and that Vulcan, a blacksmith, is a rare carpenter ,^" Schmidt suspects a double meaning in hare-finder. -

164. To go in. To join you in.

168. A^o such matter. Nothing of the kind. See on ii. 3. 198 below.

169. There V her cousin, etc. A hint of the halt-liking for Beatrice which is hidden under Benedick's depreciation of her,

176. With suspicion. That is, "on account of the horns hidden under it" (Schmidt). Cf. 212 and 232 below.

179. Sigh away Sundays. "A proverbial expression to signify that d man has no rest at all " (Warb.) ; or more probably, as Steevens ex- phuns it, an allusion to the Puritanic observance of Sunday.

187. iVith who? Cf. "To who.^" in 0th. i. 2. 52, Cyvib. iv. 2. 75, etc. Gr. 274.

189. If this were so, etc. "If this were the truth, so it would be ut- tered" (J. H.).

190. Like the old tale, etc. Mr. Blakeway gives this old tale as he heard it in childhood from his great aunt : " Once upon a time, there was a young lady (called Lady Mary in the story), who had two brothers. One sunmier they all three went to a country-seat oi theirs, which they had not before visited. Among the other gentry in the neighbourhood, who came to see them, was a Mr. Fox, a bachelor, with whom they, particu- larly the young lady, were much pleased. He used often to dine with them, and frequently invited Lady Mary to come and see his house. One day that her brothers were absent elsewhere, and she had nothing better to do, she determined to go thither, and accordingly set out unat- tended. When she arrived at the house and knocked at the door, no one answered. At length she opened it, and went in. Over the portal of the hall was written, ' Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.' She ad- vanced— over the staircase, the same inscription. She went up — over li.e entrance of a gallery, the same. She proceeded — over the door of a chamber, ' Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, lest that your hearts bli)od should run cold.' She opened it — it was full of skeletons, tubs full of blood, etc. She retreated in haste. Coming down stairs, she saw, out of a window, Mr. Fox advancing towards the house, with a drawn sword in one hand, while with the other he dragged along a young lady by her hair. Lady Mary had just time to slip down and hide herself, under the stairs, before Mr. Fox and his victim arrived at the f(jot of them. As he pulled the young lady uj) stairs, she caught hold of one of the bannisters with her hand, on which was a rich brace- let. Mr. Fox cut it off with his sword:' the hand and bracelet fell into Lady Mary's lap, who then contrived to escape unobserved, and got home safe to her brothers' house.

"After a tew days Mr. Fox came to dine with them, as usual (wheth- er by invitation, or of his own accord, this depoi.cnt sailh not). After

ACT I. SCENE I. 123

dinner, when the guests began to amuse each other with extraordinary anecdotes, Lady Mary at length said she would relate to them a remark- able dream she had lately had. ' 1 dreamed,' said she, ' that as you, Mr. Fox, had often invited me to your house, 1 would go there one morning. When I came to the house, I knocked, etc., 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 smihng, 'it is not so, nor it was not so.' Then she pursues the rest of the story, concluding at every turn with, ' It is not so, nor it was not so,' till she comes to the room full of dead bodies, when Mr. Fox took up the burden of the tale, and said, ' It is not so, nor it was not so, and God forbid it should be so;' which he continues to repeat at every subsequent turn of tlie dreatl- ful story, till she comes to the circumstance of his cutting off the young lady's hand ; when, upon his saying, as usual, ' It is not so, nor it was not so, and God forbid it should be so,' Lady Mary retorts, 'But it is so, and it was so, and here the hand I have to show,' at the same time pro- ducing the hand and bracelet from her lap : whereupon, the guests drew their swords, and instantly cut Mr. Fox into a thousand pieces."

195. To fetch rue in. Schmidt explains this " to take me in, to dupe me ;" that is, to entrap me into a confession.

198. Spoke. The quarto reading; the folio has"speake." As Stee- vens remarks. Benedick means that he spoke his mind when he said " God forbid it should be so !"

20S. In the force of his will. " Warburton's professional eye first detected the allusion here to heresy, as defined in scholastic divinity ; according to which it was not merely heterodox opinion, but a wilful adherence to such opinion. The subject was a familiar one in Shake- speare's day" (W.). For a different but less probable explanation, see bchmidt.

212. Recheat. Notes sounded on the horn to call off the hounds. Winded =\Ao\\xi. The meaning is, I will not wear a horn on my fore- head which the huntsman may blow (Johnson^.

213. Baldrick. A bjldrick was a belt, girdle, or sash, sometimes a sword-belt; generally passed round one side of the neck and under the opposite arm. Turbervile, in his Book of Huntini;, ed. 1611, gives a fig- ure of a huntsman with his horn hanging from a baldrick worn in that way. Sylvester {Du Bartas) calls the zodiac " heaven's baldrick." Cf. Spenser, Frothaiamion :

"That like the twins of Jove, thev secm'd in sipht, Which decke the Bauldrick^ of the Heavens bright."

The invisibility of the horns of the cuckold is often alluded to by the old writers, as Halliwell shows by many quotations.

215. Fine. End, conclusion. For the play on the word, cf. //////. v. i. 115 : "the fine of his fines."

222. A ballad-maker s pen. Referred to contemptuously as a worth- less instrutncnt (Halliwell).

225. Argument. Subject (that is, for satire). Cf. J/. A'. D. iii. 2. 242:

'' If you have any pity, grace, or manners. You would no: make me such an .irgumcnt ;''

124 NOTES.

and I Ilcn. IV. ii. 2. lOO : "it would be argument for a week, laughter i'or a niontli, and a good jest for ever."

226. Likt: a cat. Shouting at a cat hung up in a bottle or a basket was one of the "manly sports" of the olden time. Steevens quoies IVarres, or the Peace is Broken: " arrowes llew faster than thev did at a catte in a basket ;" and Cornu-coj>itc, 1623 : "bowmen bold, which at a cat do shoot."

228. Adam. Alluding to Adam Bell, an outlaw whose fame as an archer is celebrated in a ballad which may be found in Percy's Rcliqiies.

230. In t/me,'G\.c. The line is taken from 'J'he Spanish I'ragedy, where it reads, "In time the savage bull sustains the yoke." It had appeared even earlier in \<1 dXsow''':, Passionate Centtirie of Love, 1582. In the ori^^i- nal copy {MS. Harl. 3277) it reads, "In lyme the bull is brought to beare the yoake," but it was alterwards printed "weare the yoake." Cf. Ovid, Tristia, iv. 6. I : " Tempore ruricolae patiens fit laurus aratri ;" and De Arte Ainandi, i. 471 : "Tempore difticiles veniunt ad aratra juvenci."

240. In Venice. Venice was then "the capital of pleasure and in- trigue," as Paris is now. Cf. Greene, N^ver Poo Late: "this great city of Venice is holden Loves Paradice."

242. You will temporize, etc. Vou will come to terms in the course of time. Cf. P. and C. iv. 4. 6 : " If I could temporize with my aftection," etc.

248. Puilion. Guardianship ; the etymological meaning. S. uses tiie word nowhere else.

252. Guarded. Faced, bordered. Guards were trimmings or facings of lace or embroidery. Cf. M. of I', ii. 2. 164 :

" Give him a livery More guarded than his fellows' ;"

Hen. VIII. prol. 16 : " In a long motley coat guarded with yellow ;" L. L. L. iv. 3. 58: " O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose," etc.

253. Flont old ends. Make sport of old endings of letters, like those just quoted by Claudio and Don Pedro. Reed ciles Barnaby Googe's dedication to the first edition oi Palingenins, 1560 : " And thtis comniit- tvng your Ladiship with all yours to the tuicion of the most mercifull God, I ende. From Staple Inne at London, the eighte and twenty of March." ^Lilone adds Drayton's ending of a letter to Drummond of Hawthornden, in 1619: "And so wishing you all happiness, I commend you to Ciod's tuition, and rest your assiued friend." Ct. K. of L. 1308, where Lucrece ends her letter thus :

" So I commend me from our house in grief; My woes are tedious, tliough my words are brief.''

Exatnine your conscience. "Examine if your sarcasms do not touch yourself" (Johnson).

257. Phine to teach. " Ready to be, taught by you" (J. H.). Walkei conjectuied "use" for teach, but no change is called for.

262. AJfect. Love. Cf. P. G. of V. \\\. 1.^2:

"lliere is a lady in Verona here Whom I affect." etc.

263. IVent cn-uard. Started.

ACT I. SCENE II.

125

267, And that. For the use o{ that^ see Gr. 285.

271. 7^0 wars, — We adopt the pointing of Coll., Halliwell, and W. Djn Pedro interrupts Claudio in his fine-twisted story.

275. Break with her. Broach the subject to her, Ct. T. G. of V. i. 3. 44 : " now will we break, with him ;" Hen. VIII. v. l. 47 : " Have broken with the king," etc. S. uses break to in the same sense ; as in 292 just below. He also has break with—hx^zV one's word to; as in M. IV. iii. 2. 57 : " we have appointed to dine with Mistress Anne, and 1 would not break with her for more money than I '11 speak of."

The words and with her father. And thou shalt have her, omitted in the folio, were restored by Theo.

281. S<.ilvd. Palliated. Cf. Cor. iii. 2. 70 :

'' j'ou may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the loss Of what is past "

Treatise. Discourse, talk. Cf. /'. and A. 774: " Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse;" Macb. v. 5. 12: "a dismal treatise" (that is, tale).

283. The fairest grant, etc. "The best boon is that which answers the necessities of the case" (St.) ; or what 7oill serre is fit, as the next line gives it. Hayley suggested " to necessity." Hanmer reads "plea," and the Coll. MS. "ground" t'ov grant.

284. 'T is once. "Once for all ; 't is enough to say at once" (Stee- vens) ; or "'t is a fact past all help " (Schmidt). So in C. if E. iii. i. 89, "Once this " = this much is certain.

287. I will assume thy piiri,Q\.c. Where is this spoken? In the next scene Antonio tells Leonato that a servant of his had overheard the con- versation in an alley in his orchard ; and in the next scene Borachio tells John that he had overheard it from behind an arras in the house. Are we to suppose an interval of time between the first and second scenes of this act } Or were there two conversations between the Prince and Claudio on this subject } Or is it one of those instances of the poet's carelessness in the minor parts of his plot to which reference has already been made in M. N. D. p. 122 and Ham. \>. 241 t

289. Unclasp my heart. Cf. T. /V. i. 4. 13 :

" I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul."

See also 2 LLen. LV. ii. 4. 286.

Goest about. Uost undertake. See M. A'. D. p. 177 or Hen. V. p. 174.

12. Mortifying. Used in the literal sense = killing. Cf. M. of V. i. i. 82 : "mortifying groans." See also Hen. V. i. i. 26.

L cannot hide, G^ic. " This is one of our author's natinal touches. Aw envious and unsocial mind, too proud to give i:)leasure and too sullen to receive it, always endeavours to hide its malignitv from the world and from itself under the plainness of simple honesty or the dignity of haughty indc])endence " (Johnson).

14. .Stomach. Ai)petite ; as in ii. 3. 232 below. See also 7'. G. of F. i. 2. 68, 7: ofS. iv. I. 161, etc.

16. Clazo. lieklc, flatter. The origin of the metaphor is illustrated

ACT I. SCENE in.

t27

by 2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. 282. See also L. L. L. iv. 2. 66. Reecl quotes Wil- son, Discourse upon L'sury, 1572 : "therefore I will clawe him, and .^aye well might he fare, and godds blessing have h.e too. For the more he speaketh, the better it itcheth, and maketh belter for me."

18. Controlment. Constraint. Cf. T.A. ii, i. 68 and K. John, i. i. 20.

20. Grace. Favour ; as in ii. 3. 26 below : " one woman shall not come in my grace," etc.

23. Canker. Canker-rose, or dog-rose. It is simiiarly contrasted with the cultivated rose in Sonit. 54. 5 :

" The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses ;'*

and in i Hen. IV. i. 3. 176 :

" To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, And plant this thorn, this canker, Bulingbroke ?"

24. Blood. Disposition, temper, Cf. 2 Hen. IV. iv. 4. 38: "When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth," etc.

25. Carriage. Bearing, deportment. Cf. C. of E. iii, 2, 14 : " Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint," etc,

Rob love from any. Cf. Sonn. t,s,. 14: "that sweet thief which sourly robs from me ;" and Rie/i. II. i. 3. 173 : " Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath,"

34. For I use it only. ** For I make nothing else my counsellor " (Steevens). For I make the folio has "I will make."

40. Model. Cf. 2 Heu. /K i, 3. 42 :

" When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model ; And when we see the figure of the house, Tiien must we rate the cost of the erection ; Which if we find outweighs ability, What do we then but draw anew the model," etc,

41, fV/ial is he for a fool ? W^hat sort of fool is he t St, quotes B, J., Every Man out of his Humour, iii. 6 : " What is he for a creature Y' and Ram Alley, iv. 2 : " What is he for a man ?"

43, Marry. See M. of V. p, 138.

46, Proper. For the ironical use, cf, iv. I, 304 below : "a proper say- ing !" See also Hen. VI J I. i. I, 98, Macly. m. 4. 60, etc. And for the contemptuous squire, cf. i Hen. VI. iv. I, 23, Olh. iv. 2. 145, etc.

50. March-chick. That is, a chicken hatched in March ; a sneer at his fo7-7(.iardness.

52. Entertained for. Employed as. Cf. 7^ <y" /^, iv, 3, 496 : "To en- tertain me as your steward still ;" Lear, iii. 6. 83 : " You, sir. I entertain for one of my hundred," etc.

Smoking a mtisty room is suggestive of the uncleanly habits of the time. Steevens quotes V>\x\\.oy\, Atiat. of Melancholy : "the smooke of juniper is in great request with us at Oxford, to sweeten our chambers." In a letter from the Lords of the Council in the reign of Edward VI, we are told that Lord Paget's house was so small that "after one month it would wax imsavery for hym to contynne in ;" and in the corrcspc>nd- ence of the Earl of Shrewsbiny with Lord Burleigh, during the confine-

128 NOTES.

ment of Mary Queen of Scots at Sheffield Castle, in 1572, we learn that she was to be removed for five or six days "to klense her chambar, being kept very unklenly." Again, in a memoir v^'ritten by Anne Countess of Dorset, in 1603, we read : " we all went to Tibbals to see the Kinge, who used my mother and my aunt very gratiouslie ; but we all saw a great chaunge betweene the fashion of the Court as it was now, and of y"- in y^ Queene's, for we were all lowzy by sittinge in S"" Thomas Erskin's cham- ber."

53. Me. For the " ethical dative," see Gr. 220.

54. Sad. Serious, earnest. See on i. i. 162 above.

Arras. Tapestry hangings, so called from Arras in France. Cf. Ham. ii. 2. 163,111. 3. 28, etc.

59. Start-7tp. Used by S. nowhere else. Upstart occurs as a noun in I Hen. VI. iv. 7. 87, and as an adjective in Rich. II. ii. 3. 122.

"In the character of the chief villain of the drama, the Poet has wdiol- ly departed from the plot of Bandello's tale, which furnished him with the outline of the story. The novelist had ascribed the base deception, on which his story turns, to the revenge of a rejected lover, who, at the catastrophe, makes some amends for his guilt, by remorse and frank con- fession. Shakespeare has chosen to pourtray a less common and obvi- ous, but unhappily too true character, — one of sullen malignity, to whom the happiness or success of others is sufficient reason for the bitterness of hatred, and cause enough to prompt to injury and crime. This char- acter has much the appearance of being the original conception and rough sketch of that wayward, dark disposition, which the Poet after- wards painted more elaborately, with some variation of circumstances and temperament, in his 'honest lago'" (V.).

61. Sure. To be relied on. Cf. Cor. i. i. 176 :

" yon are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon tlie ice, Or hailstone in tiie sun."

63. Cheer. Festive enjoyment. For the original meaning of the word, see M. of V. p. 152 or M. N. D. p. 163.

65. Go prove. See A. Y. L. p. 137, note on Go buy.

ACT ir.

Scene I. — 4. Heart-burned. "The pain commonly called the heart- burn proceeds from an acid humour in the stomach, and is therefore properly enough imputed to tart looks" (Johnson). Cf. Falstaff's jest- ing use of the word in i Hen. IV. iii. 3. 59.

17. S/ireiud. Shrewish. Cf. J. C. p. 145. Curst has the same mean- ing, and the two words are used interchangeably and in combination. In the T.ofS. the heroine is called "Katharine the curst" (i. 2. 128) or " Kate the curst" (ii. i. 87), and "curst and shrewd" (i. i. 185, i. 2. 70). See also M. N. D. p. 167.

ACT II. SCEXE I. 129

24. yust. Just so, exactly so. Cf. A. Y. L. iii. 2. 281 : "Yes, just." See also M.for M. iii. i. 68, Heu. V. iii. 7. 158, etc.

27. Ill the woollen. That is, between the blankets, without sheets.

35. Bea7'-herd. The early eds. have " JJenord," which probably in- dicates the common pronunciation. The Coll. MS. gives "bear-ward," which some prefer. Schmidt says that bear-herd is " the Shakespearian form of the word." The folio has " Beare-heard " in 7! of S. ind. ii. 21 and 2 Hen. IV. i. 2. 192. In 2 Hen. VI. v. i. 149 it has " 15erard," and in 210 " Bearard." These are the only passages in which the word oc- curs. For bearward, see quotation in note on i. i. 34 above.

The apes rode on the bear led about by the bear-herd. For the ide i that old maids led apes into hell, cf. T. of S. ii. i. 34.

41. For the heavens. Some take this to be an oath, as in M. of V. ii. 2. 12 : "for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind."

45. Curtsy. The same word as courtesy., which some eds. give here. The quarto has "cursie" in both instances \\\ this speech, and Halliwell prints "cursey," which he says is "a genuine archaic form of the word courtesy.'''' See also on iv. i. 314 below.

48. Father. Omitted in the folio.

52. To be overmastered with. To have as master, to be ruled by. For •with =by, see Gr. 193.

53. To make an account. To render an account. The folio omits an.

54. / '// none. Cf. M. N. D. iii. 2. 169: "keep thy Hermia ; I will none;" A. and C. ii. 5. 9 : "I 'II none now," etc. For other ellipses with ?£////, see Gr. 405.

56. Match. Marry. Cf. T. AL i. 3. 116: "she '11 none o' the count; she '11 not match above her degree," etc.

60. Important. Importunate. Cf. C. of E. v. i. 138: "your impor- tant letters;" A. W. iii. 7. 21 : "his important blood." In Lear, iv. 4, 26, the quartos have "important," the folio "impi:)rtun'd."

61. Measure. Moderation, a proper limit ; with a play on the other meaning of a dance, as in L. L. L. iv. 3. 384 and Rich. II. iii. 4. 7.

63. Cinque-pace. A kind of dance, as the context shows. Cf. T. A'. i. 3. 139 and see Hatn. p. 222. The Camb. ed. quotes Marston, Insatiate

Countess, ii. ;

^ " Thinke of me as of tlie man

Wlio?e dancing dayes you see are not yet done. Leu. Yet, you sinke a pace, sir."

For si}ik in 68 below the Coll. MS. has "sink apace." According to Nares, the cinque-lace \\?iS the same as ihc i^a/Iiard. See I/en. V. p. 150.

65. Mannerly. Also used adverbially in M. of V. ii. 9. 100 and Cymb. iii. 6. 92.

66. Ancientry. " The port and behaviour of old age" (Schmidt). "It means old people in VV. T. iii. 3. 63 : " wronging the ancientry."

75. So. Provided that. Gr. 133.

8r. Favour. Face, look; as in iii, 3. 17 below. Cf. M. for M. iv. 2. 34 : " for surely, sir, a good fiivour you have, but that you have a hang- ing look," etc.

Defend. Forbid, like the Fr. defendre. Cf. iv. 2. 18 below. See als-^

I

I30 NOTES.

0th. \. 3. 267: "And heaven defend your good souls, that you think," etc.

83. F/iilt'inon's roof. An allusion to "he story of Philemon and Baucis in Ovid. Cf. A. V. L. iii. 3. 10 : " worse than Jove in a thatched house." This and the next two speeches form a rhymed couplet in the fourteen- syllable measure of Golding's translation, of Ovid. For Jove the folio misprints " Love."

86. Weil, I would, etc. This speech, with the next two here assigned to Balthazar, is given to Benedick in the early eds. Theo. made the cor- rection.

89. Which is 07ie? We should now say " What is one ?"

96. Clerk. The reader of responses in the English church service ; suggested here by Balthazar's " Amen." Cf. Sonn. 85. 6 : " And like un- lettered clerk still cry 'Amen ;' " Rich. II. iv. I. 173 : "Am I both priest and clerk? Well then, Amen."

100. At a 7vord. Cf. M. W. i. I. 109: "at a word, he hath, believe me ;" Cor. i. 3. 122 : " No, at a word, madam," etc.

103. Do him so ill -well. That is, mimic his bad manner so well. Steevens compares M. of V. i. 2. 63 : "a better bad habit of frown- ing."

104. Dry hand. Fomerly regarded as the mark of a cold nature. Cf. T. N. i. 3. 77.

Up and down. Thoroughly, exactly. Cf. T. G.of V. ii. 3. 32 : " here 's my mother's breath up and down ;" T. of S. iv. 3. 89: " What, up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart?" T. A. v. 2. 107 : "For up and down she doth resemble thee."

109. There 'j- an end. There is no more to be said about it. Cf. Hen. V. ii. I. II, iii. 2. 153, etc. There an end is used in the same sense; as in T. ofS. V. 2. 98, Rich. II V. i. 69, etc.

112. Nor will yoti 7iot. For the double negative, see Gr. 406.

115. The Hundred Merry Tales. A popular jest-book of the time, an imperfect copy of which was discovered and reprinted in 1815.

117. What 'j- he ? Who 's he ? See on i. i. 30 above.

123. Only his gift is. His talent is onlv. For the transposition, cf. y. C. V. 4. 12 : " Only I yield to die," etc. Gr. 420.

Impossible slatiders are "such as, from their absurdity and^mpossibil- ity, bring their own confutation with them " (Johnson). Warb. wished to read " impassable " = " so ill invented that they will pass upon no- body."

125. He both pleases, etc. "By his impious jests, she insinuates, he pleased libertines ; and by his devising slanders of them, he anc;ered them" (Warb.).

127. In the fleet. J. H. explains this as "connected with this" (see 114-116 above); but it simply means in the company, and the figure is carried out in <^^^rt/<:(/=: accosted. Cf. Ham. ii. 2. 170 : "I '11 board him presently," etc.

132. Partridge 7ving. Formerly considered the most delicate part of the bird (Halliwell). Some eds. print "partridge' wing."

145. A'ear. Intimate with. Cf. Rich. III. iii. 4. 14 : "you and he are

ACT II. SCENE /. 131

near in love ;" 2 Hen. IV. v. i. 81 : "I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master," etc.

146. Enamoured. Followed by on also in I Hen. IV. v. 2. 70 and 2 Hen. IV. i. 3. 102 ; by of in M. A'. D. iii. I. 141, iv. I. 82, and A', and J. iii. 3. 2. Ct. Gr. 181.

155. News. For the number, see on i. 2. 5 above.

159. Use. Third person imperative; or "subjunctive used optatively or imperatively,'' as Abbott (Gr. 364, 365) calls it.

162. Faith vieltetk into blood. Fidelity is melted in the heat of pas- sion. For blood in this sense, cf. ii. 3. 150 and iv. i. 56 below. Sec also A. Y. L. V. 4. 59, A. IV. iii. 7. 21, etc.

163. Proof. Experience. Cf. J. C. ii. i. 21 : " 't is a common proof;" Him. iv. 7. 1 13 : " passages of proof," etc.

169. IVilUnu. For other allusions to the willow as the emblem nf un- happy love, see 31. of V. v. i. 10, 3 Hen. VI. iii. 3. 228, iv. i. 100, Otli. iv. 3. 28 tbl., V. 2. 248, etc. Cf. Spenser, /'. Q. i. i. 9 : "The WilUjw worne <<f forlorne Paramours;" Lyly, Sappho and Phao, ii. 4 : " Knjoy thy care in covert ; weare willow in thy hat, and bayes in thy heart ;" Swan, Speiu- /■nm Mundi, 1635 : " it is yet a custoin that he which is deprived of his love must wear a willow garland." Fuller, in his /^tf;////Vj, describes the willow as "a sad tree, whereof such who have lost their love, make their mourning garlands, and we know what e.xiles hung up their harps upon such doletull supporters. The twiggs hereof are physick to drive out the folly of children," etc.

170. County. Count; the reading of the quarto here and in 317 Ix?- low. The folio has "Count" here, and "Counte" there, but "Counties" in iv. I. 310. County is also found in M. of V. \. 2. 49, A. IV. iii. 7. 22, T. N. i. 5. 320, and often in R. and J. Cf. Warner, Albions England " Home and Egmond, counties brave."

171. An usurer'' s chain. Gold chains were often worn by wealthy cit- izens in the poet's time, as they are now^ on public occasions by the al- dermen of London (Reed).

175. Drovier. The spelling of both quarto and folio.

187. Though bitter. The reading of the early eds., changed by Johnson to " the bitter."

Puts the world, etc. Assumes to represent the world, and thus reports me. For gives me out, cf. A. IV. ii. 3. 16 : "That gave him out incur- able," etc.

193. A lodge in a warren. The hut occupied by a watchman in a rnb- bit warren. Steevens remarks: "A parallel thought occurs in the fir>t chapter oi Isaiah, where the prophet, describing the desolation of Judah, says, 'The daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers.' I am informed that near Aleppo these lone- ly buildings are still made use of, it being necessary that the fields where water-melons, cucumbers, etc., are raised should be regularly watched. I learn from Tho. Newton's Hcrball to the Bible, 15S7, that 'so soone as the cucumbers, etc., be gathered, these lodges are abandoned of ihe watchmen and keepers, and no more frequented.' From these forsaken buildings, it should seem, the prophet takes his comparison."

J ^2 NOTES.

213. Hiith a quarrel to you. Cf. T. N'. iii. 4. 248 : " I am sure no mat hath any quanel to me ;" Cor. iv. 5. 133 : " Had we no quancl else to Home," etc

216. Mistised. Abused, reviled. Cf. A. V. L. iv. i. 205 : "you have simply misused our sex," etc. '

218. My very visor, etc. Steevens notes a similar thought in Statins,

Thebaid, v. 658 :

•' ipsa insanire videtur Sphynx galeae custos."

221. Impossible conveyance. "Incredible dexterity" (St.). WaiK would read "impassable," as in 123 above; Hanmer, "impetuous;' Johnson "importable" ( = insupportal)le), a word used by Spenser (/'! Q. ii. 8. 35: "importable powre") and other writers of the time. No change is necessary. The meaning, as Malone remarks, is "with a ra- pidity equal to that oi jugglers, who appear to perform impossibilities.'''' Conveyance was often used mi the sense of sleight of hand, trickery. Cf. 3 Hen. VI. iii. 3. 160 : " thy sly conveyance," etc.

. 223. She speaks poniards. Cf. Ha/n. Vii. 2. ^14 : " I will speak daggers to her."

224. Terminations. Terms, words ; used by S. only here.

227. Le/t. The Coll. MS. gives " lent."

228. I/ave made Hercules have turned. Cf. Ham. v. i. 268 : " I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife," etc. Gr. 360.

230. Ate. Cf. K. John, ii. i. 63 : " An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife ;" J. C. iii. I. 271 : " With Ate by his side, come hot from hell," etc

231. Some scholar, etc. Because Latin, the language of the church, was used in exorcisms. See Ham. p. 172, note on Scholar.

2yi. A man may live as quiet, etc. That is, to live in hell would be as quiet as to live in a sanctuary, compared with living where she is, and people sin on purpose in order to escape her in that way.

240. Toothpicker. S. also uses toothpick ; as in A. IV. i. I. 171, K. John, i. I. 190, etc.

241. Prester Joint's foot. Prester or Presbyter John was a mythical Christian king of India. Some placed his dominions in Abyssinia ; Sir John Mandeville locates them in an island called Pentexoire. The dif- ficulty of getting access to him is referred to in Iliidibras :

" 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."

The fp-eat Cham was the Khan of Tartary. He is associated will; Prester John in the old drama of Fortuuatns :

" And then I Ml re%el it with Prester John, Or banquet with great Cham of Tartary."

Steevens quotes Cartwiight, The Siege, 165 1 : "bid mc take the Parthi- an king by the beard ; or draw an eye-tooth from the jaw royal of the Persian monarch." Cf. the old romance o( Huon of Bourdcaux : " Thou n^ust goe to the citie of Babylon to the Admiral Gaudisse, to bring me

ACT II. SCEXE I. ,,,

thy hand full of the heare of liis beard, and foure of his greatest teeth. Alas, my lord, (quoth the Barrons,) we see well you desire greatly his death, when you charge him with such a message,"

242. The Pigmies. A race of dwarfs fabled to dwell beyond Mount Imaus in India. Their wars with the cranes are celebrated in a poem ascribed to Homer. Cf. Milton, P. L. i. 575 :

" that small infantry Warr'd on by cranes ;" and Id. \. 780 :

" like that Pygmean race Beyond the Indian mount.''

251. Use. Interest, " usance " {M. of V. \. 3. 46, 109, 142). Cf V. and A. 768 : " But gold that 's put to use more gold begets;" Sornt. 134. 10 : " Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use," etc.

263. Civil count. Some eds. print "civil, count." The meaning of civil is the same in either case, and is perhaps best illustrated bv Cot- grave's definition oi aigre-douce as a "civile orange, or orange that is betweene sweet and sower." Cf. Nash, Four Letters Confuted, 1592: " For the order of my life, it is as civil as an orange." There is an ob- vious play upon civil and Seville. J. H. explains civil as "plain," and compares the use of the word as applied to dress. See T. iW iii. 4. 5 and R. and J. iii. 2. 10. But the word is not there = "plain, honielv," as he makes it, but rather = grave, sober; th.it is, like civilian dress as distinguished from military dress with its brighter colours and showy trappings.

264. Jealous cotnplexio7t. Cf. the use of ^r/Zf^f/w^j-j^ jealousy, in M. If. i. 3. III.

265. Blazon. "Explanation" (Schmidt). Cf Ham. \. 5. 21: "this eternal blazon " (this unfolding of the mysteries of eternity).

266. Conceit. Conception, idea. Cf. M. of V. iii. 4. 2 :

" You have a noble and a true conceit Of godlike amity," etc.

273. Cue. See Ham. p. 213.

281. Poor fool. "Formerly an expression of tenderness" (Malone). Cf. T. G. of V. iv. 4. 98, T. N. v. i. 377, 3 Hen. VI. ii. 5. 36. etc.

285. Good Lord, for alliance I This seems to mean "Heaven send me a husband !" (said sportively^ of course), as St. explains it; or "Good Lord, how many alliances are forming !" as Boswell gives it.

To go to the world meant to marry; perhaps originally in distinction from go"ng into the church, where celibacy was the rule. Cf. A. W. 1. 3. 20: "if I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world," etc. So a ivoman of the iv'orld—z married woman, in A. Y. L. v. 3. 5.

286. Snnhurnt. Apparently^" homely, ill-favoured," as St. explains

it. Cf. 7:^;;/^ C i. 3. 282:

"The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth The splinter of a lance."

287. Heigh- ho for a husband 1 The title of an old bailad, preserved jn the Pepysian Collection, Magdalene College, Cambridge (Maloi\e). Cf. iii. 4. 48 below.

134 NOTES.

296. Mutter. Sense. Cf. A. Y. L. ii. i. 68 : " For then he 's full of matter ;" Ham. ii. 2. 95 : " More matter with less art ;" Leai-, iv. 6. 178 : "O matter and impertinency mix'd !"

306. The melancholy element. We have many allusions in S. to the old notion that all things were composed of the four elements, earth, air, fire, and water. See J. C. p. 185 and Hen. V. p. 169, Cf. also Sonn. 44. 13, 45. 5, A. and C. V. 2. 292, etc.

307. Sad. Serious. See on i. i. 162 above.

309. i'nhappiness. Theo. changed this to "an happiness ;" but Warb. reminds him that the word sometimes meant "a wild, wanton, unlucky trick," and quotes B. and F., The Maid of the Mill :

" My dreams are like my thoughts, honest p-nd innocent ; Yours are unhappy."

Schmidt explains unhappiness here as "wanton or mischievous tricks," and compares unhappy in A. W. iv. 5. 66: "A shrewd knave and an unhappy" (that is, " roguish, full of tricks"). Seymour explains the passage thus : " She hath often dreamed of unhappiness, which yet was so short-lived that presently she was merry again and waked herself with laughing."

311. Hear tell. "This form of speech, which S. constantly puts into the mouth of personages of the highest rank, but which is now never heard in Old England, except perhaps in the remotest rural districts, is in common use in New England" (W.).

317. County. The quarto has "Countie," the folio "Counte." See on i. r. 170 above.

To go to church. Cf. M. of F. iii. 2. 305 : " First go with me to church and call me wife," etc.

322. A just seven-night. An exact week. Cf M. of V. iv. i. 327: "a just pound."

324. Breathing. Interval, delay. Cf. R. of L. 1720: "Untimely breathings,"

328. Mountain of afpecliou. Johnson was sorely troubled by this colloquial expression, and suggested " mooting." Steevens and Ma- lone think that S. may have written it, as he has "many phrases equally harsh." The discussion fills almost a uage of the Var. ed. of 1821.

340. Strain. Family, lineage. Cf. Hen. V. ii. 4. 51 : "he is bred out of tiiat bloody strain ;" J. C.v. i. 59: "the noblest of thy strain," etc. See also Spenser, F. Q. iv. 8. 33: "Sprung of the auncient stocke of I'rinces straine ;" /d. v. 9. 32: "yborne of heavenly strene ;" /d. vi. 6. 9 : " bred of hellish strene."

Approiied. Proved, tried. Cf iv. r. 44 below: "an approved wan- ton ;" also 297 : " approved in the height a villain," etc.

344. Queasy. Squeamish, fastidious. Q.{. A. and C.m.d.zo : "queasy with his insolence " (that is, sick of it) ; Lear, ii. i. 19 : " of queasy ques- tion " ( = nice question).

Scene II.— i. Shall marry. Is to marry. Cf. A. V. L. ii. 4. 88, J. C. i. 3. 87, cic. Or. 315.

ACT //. SCEXE in. ,,.

5. Medicinable. Medicinal. Cf. T. aud C i. 3. 91 : " Sul . . . whose niedicinahle eye ;" 0th. v. 2. 351 : "medicinable gum " ("medicinal " in quartos), etc. Gr. 3.

Displeasure to hitn. Cf. "a quarrel to you" in ii. i. 213 above. See also Gr. 186. We find "displeasure at" in Per. i. 3. 21, and "displeas- ure against " in Temp. iv. i. 202, A. Y. L. i. 2. 90, and A. IV. iv. 5. 80.

6. Affection. Inclination, wish. Whatever thwarts his wishes agrees with mine.

19. Temper. Compound, mix. Cf. R. and J. iii. 5. 98 :

"Madam, if you could find out but a man 'I'o bear a poison, I would temper it ;"

.Ham. V. 2. 339 : " It is a poison temper'd by himself;" Cymb. v. 5. 250 : " To temper poisons for her."

22. Estitnation. Worth, merit ; as in A. W. v. 3. 4, etc. It is used in a concrete sense ( = thing of worth) in T. and C. ii. 2. 91 and Cvmb. i. 4.

99-

23. Stale. Wanton, harlot ; as in iv. i. 62 below. For another mean- ing, see Temp. p. 137.

25. Misuse. Deceive. Cf abuse in v. 2. 85 below: "the prince and Claudio mightily abused." Abuse is often used by S. in this sense, mis- use only in the present passage.

32. Tnteud. Pretend. Cf. K. of L. 121 : "Intending weariness with heavy spright." See also T. of S. iv. i. 206, Ric/i. III. iii. 5. 8, and T.of A. ii. 2. 219. On the other \iz.\\^, preleud was sometimes — intend ; as in R. of L. 576, T. G. of V. ii. 6. 37, etc.

37. T?ial. That is, verifying it by their own observation. Instances = ])roofs ; as in iM. for M. iv. 3. 134, T. and C. v. 2. 153, etc.

39. Term me Claudio. Theo. changed Claudio to " Borachio," but this does not seem necessary. As M alone remarks, Claudio might suppose that his rival was addressed as Claudio in consequence of a secret agreement betw^een the guilty pair, in order to prevent suspicion if Hero should be overheard.

45. Gro^v thi's. Let this grow. See Gr. 361.

46. The ivorking this. We should now say either "working this" or " the working of this." See Gr. 373.

50. Presently. See on i. I. 74 above ; and {ox go learn, on i. 3. 65.

Scene III. — 4. Orchard. Garden. See on i. 2. 8 above. 10. Argument. Subject. See on i. I. 225 above.

14, Ten mile. CL Macb. \. ^. n : "within this three mile;" and see on i. I. 75 above.

16. Doiddet. See A. Y. L. p. 158.

18. Orthography. The abstract for the concrete. Cf. Z. Z. Z. i. 2. 190: "I am sure I shall turn sonnet." Pope changed it to " orthogra- pher,"and some read "orthographist."

19. May. Can. See Gr. 309, and cf 307.

26. In my grace. Into my favour. For ///, see Gr. 159 ; and for grace, on i. 3. 24 above.

27. 7 '// none. I '11 have nothing to do with her. See on ii. i. 54 above.

136 ^'OTES.

28. C/it-nfen. Chaffer for, bid for. Cf. Per. iv. 6. 10 . " cheapen a kiss of her." In the Shropshire dialect cheapeti — :A<-,\s. the price of. Cf. Hey- wood, Edward IP\ : " I see you come to cheap, and not to buy." Pals- grave gives, " I cheape, I demaunde the price of a thyng that I wolde

bve."

'29. Noble . . . atigel. With a punning reference to the two coins, the noble and the angel. See Rich. II. p. 219, note on T/ianks, noble peer. For the angel, see M. of V. p. 144.

30. Her hair, etc. That is, her hair shall be of the natural colour, not dyed according to the fashion of the time. Stubbes, in his Anatomie of Abnses, 1 595, says: "If any have haire of her owne natural) growing, which is not faire ynough, then will they die it in divers colours." Or the allusion may be to the wearing of false hair. Cf. iii. 4. 12 : "I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner." For the poet's antipathy to false hair, see M. of V. p. 149.

32. 'I'he quarto has here " Enter prince, Leonato, Claudio, Mnsicke,^'' and six lines below '^ Enter Balthaser mith musicke.'''' The folio has only one stage -direction : "-Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and lacLe IVilson.'' This shows that the folio was printed from a copy of the quarto used in the theatre. Jack \Vilson probably being the singer who took the part of Balthazar. The quarto itself would appear to have been printed from a stage copy ; for in iv. 2. I both that ed. and the folio assign the speech to " AT'-f/^^r," doubtless a misprint for A'emp, who is known to have acted the part of Dogberry, The next speech is also given by both eds. to " Cozvley,'" and another speech of Verges (iv. 2. 5) is assigned to the same actor. See also on iv. 2. I below.

34. How still, etc. Cf. M. of V. v. i. 56 :

" soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. "

38. Kid-fox. Young fox. Warb. changed it to " hid fox," which may be what S. wrote.

40. Good viy lord. See Gr. 13.

41. Po slander. For the omission oi as, see Gr. 281.

44. Woo. Solicit, urge. Cf. A. Y. L.\. 3. 137: "Leave me alone to woo him ;" 0th. iii. 3. 293 : " Wooed me to steal it," etc.

53. jVothing. The reading of the early eds. changed by Theo. to "noting ;" but, as W. has shown, nothing was then pronounced noting^ and there is here a play on the two words, as on Goths and goats in A. Y. L. iii. 3. 9 (see note in our ed. p. 179). N'othing rhymes with doting in Sofin. 20. 12.

W. sees the same pun in the title of the play. He says : " The play is Mitch Ado about A'Othing only in a very vague and general sense, but Much Ado about Abating in one especially apt and descriptive ; for the much ado is produced entirely by noting. It begins with the noting of the Prince and Claudio, first by Antonio's man, and then by Borachio, who reveals their confidence to John ; it goes on with Benedick noting the Prince, Leonato, and Claudio in the garden, and again with Beatrice noting Margaret and Ursula in the same place ; the incident upon which its action turns is the noting of Borachio's interview with Margaret by

ACT //. SCEXE III. I. J

the Prince and Claudio ; and, finally, the incident which reveals the plot is the noting of Borachio and Conrade by the Watch." AW^ = observe, watch, is common in S. Cf. A. V. L. iii. 2. 267 : "Slink by and note him ;" T. and C. i. 2. 251 : " Mark him, note him," etc. See also in the present play i. i. 145, iv. i. 156, etc.

54. Divine air ! Probably meant to be understood as a quotation.

55. Guts. The word was not so oflensive in the time of S. as now. See Ham. p. 241. Topsell, in his His^ of Four-footed Beasts, 1607, stat- ing the uses of the sheep, gives "his guts and intrals for musicke."

Hale. Draw ; etymologically the same as haul, which S. docs not use, unless, with Schmidt, we recognize a solitary instance in 2 Hen. //'. V- 5- 37, vvhere the quarto has " halde " and the folio " hall'd." Hale is also the form in Milton {P. L. ii. 596) and in the A. V, [Luke, xii. 58, Aets, viii. 3). S. uses the \\o\di fifteen times ; and he apparently uses exhale as if it were a derivative oi hale ( = draw out), as in Rich. III. \. 2. 58, 166, etc.

On the effect of music here, cf. T. N. ii. 3. 60: "a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver."

56. When all 'j done. After all. Cf. M. N. D. iii. i. 16 : " I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done." See also T. N'. ii. 3. 31 and Macb. iii. 4. 67.

65. Moe. An old form used very often by S. but generally changed to more by the modern editors, unless it is necessary for the rhyme, as here and in R. of L. 1479. See A. V. L. p. 176.

66. Dumps. Low spirits, melancholy ; as in T. A. i. I. 391, R. and J. iv. 5. 129, etc. It is used by S. in this sense only in the plural ; but the singular is found in other writers. Cf. Harrington, Ariosto: " Strake them into a dumpe, and made them sad;" Hall, Homer: "Leaving Prince Agamemnon then in dumpe and in suspense," etc. Dump also meant a melancholy strain of music. Cf T. G. of V. iii. 2. 85 : " Tune a deploring dump." See also R. and J. iv. 5. 108 and R. of L. 1127. It was also sometimes applied to an elegy. Davies of Hereford has one entitled "A Dump upon the Death of the most noble Henrie, Earle of Pembroke."

68. Leavy. The regular form of the word in S. and here required by the rhyme.

76. Bode no mischief. The howling of a dog was deemed an ill omen.

Had as lief See ^. Y. L. p. 139.

Night-raven. Either the owl, or, as some explain it, the night-heron {Ardea nycticorax). It is probably the same as the " night-crow " of 3 Hen. VI. V. 6. 45. Cf Milton, HAIL 7: "And the night-raven sings;" ^.]., Poetaster: "The dismall night-raven and tragicke owle."

83. To-day, that. The pointing of the early eds., followed by the Camb. editors and some others. Most of the modern eds. print " to- day? that," etc.

85. Stalk on. An aliusion to the use of the stalkincr-horse in fowling. See A. V. L. p. 199. Reed quotes John Gee's A'nu Shreds of the Old Snare: " Methinks I behold the cunning fowler such as I have knowne in the fenne countries and els -where, that doe shoot at woodcockes,

J 38 NOTES.

snipes, and wilde fowle, by sneaking behind a painted cloth which thev Carrey before them, having lectured in it the shape of a horse ; which while the silly fowle gazeth on, it is knockt down with hale shot, and so put in the fowler's budget."

90. Sits the iviiid, etc. Cf. M. of V. i. I. 18 : "to know where sits the wind ;" Hani. i. 3. 56 : "The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail," etc.

91. Some point the passage thus: "I cannot tell what to think of it ; but that she loves him with an enraged affection, — it is past the in- finite of thought." Einagc'd—nxdid, intense. /;(/?«//^ = infinite stretch, utmost power.

97. Came. For the omission of the relative, see Gr. 244. Discovers = shows. Cf. i. 2. 10 above ; also 142 and iii. 2. 82 below.

loi. Sit you. Y ox you, see Gr. 220.

105. Would. Apparently used for should; but Abbott (Gr. 331) ex- plains it " I was willing and prepared to think," etc.

112. Hold it up. Keep it up, continue it. Cf. M. A'. D. iii. 2. 239: " hold the sweet jest up ;" Ham. v. I. 34 : "they hold up Adam's profes- sion," etc.

122. Writ. For the form, see Ham. p. 178 or Gr. 343.

128. lliat. For this afifirmative use oi that, cf. J. C. ii. I. 15 : "Crown him ? That."

129. Halfpence. That is, pieces as small as halfpence ; but Theo. ex- plains it as "pieces of the same bigness,''' and compares A. Y. L. iii. 2. 372 : "all like one another, as halfpence are." The old silver halfpenny was smaller than our half-dime.

130. To write. That is, as to write. See on 41 above.

135. Cries. The early eds. have "curses," which seems out of place here. Cries is the very plausible emendation of the Coll. MS., and is adopted by W, and H. Perhaps S. wrote " curses, prays," and the print- er accidentally transposed the words.

138. Ecstasy. Madness, passion. See Ham. ]•>. 201 or Macb. p. 211. Overborne. Overcome. Cf. M. N. D. ii. i. 92, Heit. V. iv. chor. 39, etc.

139. Afeard. Used by S. interchangeably with afraid. See AI.jV. D. p. 156 or Macb. p. 163.

145. An alms. A charity, a good deed. The Coll. MS. has "alms- deed," which W. and H. adopt ; but this use of alms is natural enough in itself and not w^ithout precedent in our old literature. Hallivvell quotes the interlude of IVie Disobedient Child : "It were almes, by \x\\ trothe, thou were well beaten."

146. Excellent. An adverb, as often. Cf. iii. i. 98 below : "an excel lent good name," etc. Exceeding (148) is also much used in the same way. Gr. I.

150. Blood. See on ii. i. 162 above.

154. Dotage. Uoting affection ; as in 198 below. See also Af. N. D. iv. I. 52, 0th. iv. I. 27, A. and C. i. I. I, etc.

155. Daffcd. The same as doff— do off. Here it means to put aside, as in V. I. 78 below. It is used literally in A. and C. iv. 4. 13 :

" He that unbuckles tills, till we do please To daff 't for our repose, shall hear a storm."

ACT II. SCENE III. ,^o

\6$. Contempt ibU. Contemptuous. Q(.medicitial>lt',\\. 2. ^ Vihoxc. Oii the other hzud, contemptuous is sometimes used in the sense of c()ntcM)|)t- ible ; as in 2 Hen. VI. i. 3. 86 : "Contemptuous base-born callct as blie is."

166. Proper. Good-looking, handsome ; as in M. X. D. i. 2. 88, M. of V. i. 2. 77, etc.

167. A good ontivard happiness. "A happy exteiior, a prepossessing appearance" (Schmidt). Cf. "excellent differences " = different excel- lencies, in Ham. v. 2. 112, and see note in our ed. p. 271.

168. Fore. See Hen V. p. 155.

171. Wit. Wisdom, intellectual power; as the connection shows. See on i. i. 57 above, and cf. 213 below.

172. And I take him, etc. The quarto '^ives the speerh to Claudio. 181. Large. Free, broad. Cf. iv. I. 49 below.

185. Counsel. " Reflection, deliberation " (Schmidt).

189. Let it cool the while. Let it rest meanwhile. Cf. iii. 2. 1 15 below : "bear it coldly but till midnight."

191. Univorthy. The folio has " unworthy to have."

196. Carry. Carry out, manage. Cf. iv. i. 208 below: "this well car- ried," etc. See also M. N'. D. iii. 2. 240, T. A^. iii. 4. 150, etc.

198. And no such matter. And it is nothing of the kind, it is not so at all. Cf. Sonn. 87. 14 : " In sleep a king, but waking no such matter." See also i. i. 168 above and v. 4. 82 below.

199. Merely. Entirely. See Temp. p. in or J. C. p. 129.

A dumb sho7o. A pantomime ; like that introduced in Ham. iii. 2 be- fore the play, and in Ter. at the beginning of act iii.

201. The conference was sadly borne. The conversation was seriously carried on. See on sad, i. I. 162 above.

204. Have their full bent. Are at tlieir utmost tension ; a metaphor taken from the bending of a bow. Cf. T. jX. ii. 4. 38 :

"Tlien let thy love be younger than tliyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent."

205. Censured. Judged, estimated. Cf. Cor. ii. i. 25 : " do you two know how you are censured here in the city.-*" J. C. iii. 2. 16 : "censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that you may the belter judge," etc. See also on the noun in Macb. p. 251 or Ham. p. 190.

211. ReproT'e. Disprove, confute. Cf. V. and A. 787: "What have you urg'd that I cannot reprove .="" 2 Hen. VI. iii. I. 40: "Reprove my allegation, if you can."

213. Argument. Proof. Cf. L. L. L. i. 2. 175 : "a great argument of falsehood," etc.

218. Quips. Sarcasms. Cf. T. G. of T. iv. 2. 12:

"all her sudden quips. The least whereof would quell a lover's hope ," Milton, VAll. 27 : " Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles," etc.

Sentences. Maxims. Cf. K. of I.. 244: "a sentence or an old man's saw ;" M. of V. i. 2. ii : " Good sentences," etc.

232. Choke a daw. The Coll. MS. has " not choke," which H. (school ed.) adopts, though not without hesitation. As the difference l>elween

, . ^ NO TES.

140

the maximum that would not choke and the mi>iimum that woiila is practically ////, the emendation seems a most superfluous one.

/F////<//— with. Ct". i. 2. 18 above, where it is — with //. For stomachy see on i. 3. 14 above.

239. A Jtio. Often used in this contemptuous way. Cf. M. of V. ii. 2. 119: "1 am a Jew if 1 serve the Jew any longer ;" I Hen. I V. ii. 4. 19S : " I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew," etc.

ACT III.

Scene I.— i. Thee. Possibly=//!fz/. See Gr. 212.

3. Proposing. Conversing; from the Ywpropos, discourse, talk (Stee- vens). Cf. the use of the noun in 12 just below. So /rt'/^wr- speaker, orator, in Ham. ii. 2. 297.

4. Whisper her ear. Cf. A. IV. ii. 3. 75 : "The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me ;" IV. T. i. 2. 437 : " Your followers 1 will whisper to the business," etc. See Gr. 200.

7. Pleached. See on thick-pleached, i. 2, 8 above.

8. Honeysuckles. See M. iV. D. p. 173.

12. Propose, The quarto reading; the folio has "purpose," which Reed defends as sometimes used in the same sense. He quotes Knox's Reformation in Scotland: "with him six persons; and getting entrie, held purpose with the porter ;" and again : " After supper he held com- fortable purpose of God's chosen children." Propose is, however, gen- erally adopted by the editors. For listen, see Gr. 199.

16. Trace. Walk, pace. Cf. I\I. N. D. ii. i. 25 : "trace the forests wild."

24. Lapwing. See Ham. p. 272.

25. Conference. See on ii. 3. 202 above.

36. Haggards. Wild or untrained hawks. Cf. T. of S. iv. I. 196 :

" Anotiier wny I have to man my haggard. To make her come and know her keeper's call ;"

Id. iv. 2. 39 : " this proud disdainful haggard ;" T. iV. iii. I. 71 :

"And, like tlie haggard, check at every feather That comes betore his eye."

In Olh. iii. 3. 260, the word is used as an adjective = wild, untractable. 42. Wish. Desire, bid. Cf. Af.for M. v. r 79 :

Duke. You were not bid to sper\. Lucio. No, my good lerd ;

Nor wish'd to hold my peace."

For wrestle . . . to let, see Gr. 349.

45. As full as fortunate. Fully as fortunate (St., Camb. ed., and Schmidt). Most eds. point " as full, as fortunate." Both quarto and folio have "as full as."

50. Of prouder stuff. Cf. J. C. iii. 2. 97 : "Ambition should be made of sterner stuff." See also Ham. iii. 4. 36, iv. 7. 31, etc.

51. Disdain and scorn, elc. Cf. Euphues Golden Legacie, 1590: "Her

ACT in. SCENE I. I^I

eyes were like those lampes that make the wealthie covert of the Heav- ens more gorgeous, sparkling favour and disdaine, courteous and yet coye, as if in them Venus had placed all her amoreis, and Diana all her chastitie."

52. Misprising. Slighting, despising. Cf, A. Y. I:, i. i. 177: ** I am altogether misprised ;" Id. \. 2. 192: "'your reputation shall not there- fore be misprised," etc. So misprision — co\\\.t\\\\ii in A. IV. ii. 3. 159.

54. IVenk. " Almost = stupid" (Schmidt). Cf. L. L. L. v. 2. 374: "Your wit makes wise things foolish."

55. Project. Idea (Schmidt).

56. Self-endeared. Self-loving, absorbed in love of self.

60. IIo7v. However. Cf. Sonn. 28. 8: " How far 1 toil, still farther off from thee;" Cymh. iv. 2. 17: "How much the quantity, the weight as much," etc. See Gr. 46.

61- Spell him backxvard. Misconstrue him ; " alluding to the practice of witches in uttering prayers" (Steevens).

63. Black. Dark-complexioned. Cf T. G. of V. v. 2. 12 : "Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes."

Drawing of. Yox the of, see Gr. 178. An antic was a buffoon. See Rich. II. p. 192.

65. Low. For low as opposed to tall, cf. i. i. 152 above. See also M. N. D. iii. 2. 295 fol.

All agate. Alluding to the figures cut in the agates set in rings. Cf. L. L. L. ii. I. 236 : " His heart, like an agate, with your print impress 'd ;" 2 Hen. IV. i. 2. 19 : "I was never manned with an agate till now." Warb. wished to read "aglet" (the Fr. aigniliettc).

70. Simpleness. Simplicity, innocence. Cf. M. N". D. v. I. 83 : "sim- pleness and duty;" A. W. i. i. 51 : "the better for their simpleness." In R. and J. iii. 3. 77 it means silliness.

71. Ci>mmendable. Accented on the first syllable, as regularly in S., ex- cept in M. of V. i. I. 1 1 1, which Schmidt considers doubtful. Abbott (Gr. 49OJ also excepts Ham. i. 2. 87, but the other accent seems better there.

72. A'ot. Mason and Capell read " nor," and Rowe "for."

From all fashions. Averse to the ordinary ways of people. Yoxfrom = away from, out of, cf. Temp. i. I. 65 : " Wiiich is from my remem- brance ;" y. C. \. 3. 35 : "Clean from the purpose" (see also Ham. iii. 2. 22), etc. There is a play upon this sense oifrom in M. of V. iii. 2. 192 and Rich. III. iv. 4. 258.

76. Press me to death. Alluding to the ancient punishment of the peine forte et dure, or pressing to death by heavy weights laid upon the body. CtM.for M. v. I. 528: "pressing to death, whipping, and hanging;" Rich. II. iii. 4. 72 : "I am press'd to death through want of speaking," etc.

79. // were a better death, etc. The reading of the quarto, which has "then," the old form oi than. The 1st folio reads "a better d?ath, to die ;" and the 2d folio " a bitter death to die." W. adopts this last read- ing, on the groimd that the one in the text "can only refer to Benedick's consuming away in sighs; whereas it is herself that Hero represents as being in danger of being pressed to death with wit, if she reveal Henc- dick's passion, and 'therefore; she says, 'let Benedick consume,' etc'

,^2 A'OTES.

Lut when Hero speaks of being pressed to death with wit, it is a mere feminine hyperbole; she has of course no real fear of such a death. Her thoughts then turn to Benedick, who, like herself, would be exposed to the mocks of Beatrice if his passion became known to her; and she says, nat- urally enough, Better let him die of secret love than of Beatrice's scorn. The transition is as thoroughly feminine as the form of expression.

So. Tickling. Metrically a trisyllable, like ha>idliiig in 2 Hen. IV. iv. I. 161, tacklings in 3 Hen. VI. v. 4. 18, etc. See Gr. 477.

89. Sivift. Ready ; as in A. Y. L. v. 4. 65 : " he is very swift and sen- tentious," etc.

90. Prizd. Estimated ; as in iv. i. 216 below : " wliat we have we prize not to the worth." See also T. and C. iv. 4. 136, L. L. L. v. 2. 224, etc.

96. Atgnvient. " Discourse, or the powers of reasoning" (Johnson and Schmidt).

loi. Every day, to-inayrcnu. ''Every day after to-inorrow ; a play on the question" (St.)

103. Furnish. Dress. Cf. A. V. L. iii. 2. 258.' "furnished like a hunt- er ;" A', and J. iv. 2. 35 :

'' such needful ornaments As you think fit to fuinisli me to-morrow."

104. Lini'd. Ensnared as with birdlime. For the metaphor, cf. T. N^. iii. 4. 82 : "I have limed her ;" Ham. iii. 3. 68 :

" O limed soul that, struggling to be free, Art more engag'd !"

See also R. of L. 88, Macb. iv. 2. 34, etc. For //>«V the folio has " tane." 107. What fire is in mine ears? Warb. sees here an allusion to the vulgar notion that the ears burn when other people are talking of us. As Reed notes, the idea is very ancient, being mentioned by I'liny. Cf. Holland's translation: "Moreover is not this an opinion generally re- ceived, That when our ears do glow and tingle, some there be that in our absence doe talke of us.-*" Steevens quotes The Castcll of Conrtesie, 1582 :

" Ihat I doe credite giue vnto the saying old, Which is, when as the eai es doe burne, some thing on thee is told."

We are inclined to think, with Schmidt, that Beatrice does not refer to the proverb, but means simply " What fire pervades me by what I have heard !"

no. No glory lives, etc. "The proud and contemptuous are never ex- tolled in their absence" (St.). The Coll. MS. reads " but in the lack."

112. laming, tic. "This image is taken from falconry. She had been charged with being as wild as haggards of the rock ; she therefore says that, 7i//7^ as her heart is, she will tajjie it to the hand"" (Johnson)

1 1 6. Reportingly. On hearsay.

Scene H. — i. Consummate. For the form, cf. A/, for Af. v. i. 383 :

'■ Do you the office, friar ; which consummate, Return him here again." Sec Gr. 342.

AC 7' III. SCENE If. ,^^

3. Bring. Accompany. Cf. W. T. iv. 3. 122 : " Shall I bring thee on the way?" See also Gen. xviii. 16, Ads, xxi. 5, etc. r<v/r//j<//i'- allow ; as in C. of E. v. i. 2S2 : *' vouchsafe nie speak a word," etc.

5. T/ie nau gloss, etc. Cf. Macb. \. 7. 34: "Which would he worn now in their newest gloss ;" 0th. i. 3. 227 : " the gloss of your new foi t- unes.

As to s/i07u a child, etc. Cf. R. and y. iii. 2. 29 :

•'As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them."

7. Only. That is, only for his company. See on ii. i. 123 above.

10. Hangman. Cf. M. of V. iv. i. 125 : "the hangman's axe ;" and see note in our ed. p. 157. D. thinks it possible that hangman in tiie present passage may be=rascal, rogue, as Johnson explains it in his Dut. It is certain that the word,having come to mean "an executioner in general," was afterwards used as a general term of reproach. It was also used sportively in this sense, and Nares gives this passage as an instance. He also cites Heywood, i Edward IV. v. 3 :

" How dost thou, Tom ? and how doth Ned? quoth he ; That honest, merry hangman, how doth lie :"

11. As a bell, etc. "A covert allusion to the old proverb, 'As the fool thinketh, so the bell clinketh ' " (Steevens). Sound as a bell wai a common expression, of which Halliwell gives many examples.

19. The toothache. Bosw^ell quotes B. and F., The Ealse One :

" You had best be troubled with the toothache too. For lovers ever are."

22. Hang it first, and draw it afterwards. A quibbling allusion to "hanging, drawing, and quartering." Cf. M.for M. ii. i. 215 : "thcv will draw you, Master Froth, and you will hang them ;" A'. John, ii. i. 504 :

" Drawn in the flattering table of her eye ! Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow ! And quarter* d in her heart !"

24. IFbrm. A worm at the root of the tooth was formerly supposed to be the cause of toothache. Cf. Bartholomaeus, £>e Pro/>. Rerum, 1535 : "some tyme by wormes they [the teeth] ben chaunged into yelow col- our, grene, or black: all this cometh of corrupt and evyll himiours ;" and again : " Wormes of the teethe ben slayne with myrre and opium."

25. Can. Pope's correction of the "cannot" of the early eds.

28. Fancy. Love ; as often. See M. of K p. 148 or M. A". T>. p. 129. Don Pedro plays upon the word.

31. Tzaa countries at once. Steevens quotes Dekker, Scien deadly Sinnes of Londoji, 1606: "For an t^nglishman's sute is like a traitor's body that hath been hanged, drawne, and quartered, and is set up in severall places : his codpiece is in Denmarke : the collor of his dublet and the belly, in France : the wing and narrow sleeve, in Italy : the short waste hangs ouer a Dutch botcher's stall in Utrich : his huge sloppes speaks Spanish : Polonia gives him the bootes," etc.

32. Slops. Large loose breeches ; as in the p..>sage just quoted. CC

144 NOTES.

1 Hen. IV. i. 2. 34 : " my short cloak and my slops ;" R. and J. ii. 4. 47 : " your French slo])." Steevens quotes B. J., Alchemist :

"six great slops Bigger than three Dutch hoys."

A^o doublet. M. Mason thought this should be "all doublet," to cor- respond with the actual dress of the old Spaniards. Steevens says : ''no doublet ; or, in other words, all cloak."

The passage Or in the shape . . . no doublet wzs omitted in the folio, probably to avoid giving offence to the Spaniards, with whom James Ije- came a tViend in 1604 (Alalone).

41. Stuffed ten 71 is balls. Steevens cites Nash, Wonderful Prognostica- tion for 1591 : "they may sell their haire by the pound, to stuffe tennicc balls ;" and Henderson adds Ram Alley. 161 1 : "Thy beard shall serve to stuff those balls by which I get me heat at tenice ;" and The Gentle Craft, 1600 : " He '11 shave it off, and stuffe tenice balls with it."

49. Note. Mark, sign. Cf. W. T, i. 2. 287 : " a note infallible ;" Hen. V. iv. chor. 25 : " Upon his royal face there is no note," etc.

The quarto assigns this speech to " j?^?/^.," the folio to " Piin.'"'

50. To luash his face. "That the benign effect of the tender passion upon Benedick in this regard should be so particularly noticed requires, ])erhaps, the remark that in Shakespeare's time our race had not aban- doned itself to that reckless use of water, either for ablution or potation, which has more recently become one of its characteristic traits" (W.).

54. A lute-string. Love-songs were then generally sung to the music of the lute. Cf. Heji. IV. i. 2. 84 : "a lover's lute." The stops of a lute were "small lengths of wire en which the fingers press the strings" (Busby). They were also called/;v/j'. See Ham. p. 230, note on Fret.

55. Conclude. The folio does not repeat the word.

60. Conditions. Qualities ; as in Hen. V. iv. i. 108, A. W. iv. 3. 288, etc.

62. Face tcpwards. Theo. wanted to read "heels upwards" or "face downwards," and Johnson and Steevens favoured the change ; but the true interpretation is probably suggested by IV. T. iv. 4. 131 and Per. v.

3-43-

63. Charm for the toothache. Scot, in his Discove7-!e of Witchcraft, 1584, gives many charms for the toothache, one of which is the repeat- ing of the following formula: " Strigiles filcesque dentatce, dentium dolo- rem personate — O horsse-combs and sickles that have so many teeth, come heale me now of my toothach."

65. Hobby-horses. For the literal meaning of the word, see Ham. ]). 225. It was used figuratively as a term of familiarity or of contem[)t, Cf. L. L. L. iii. i. 31, W. T. i. 2. 276, and Oth. iv. i. 160.

67. To break with. See on i. i. 275 above.

72. Good den. Good evening. See Hen. V. p. 164, note on God-den.

S2. Discffi'cr. Reveal. See on i. 2. 10 above.

84. Aim better at me. Form a better opinion of me. Cf. T. G. of V. iii. I. 45 : "That my discovery be not aimed at" (that is, guessed at, sus])cctcd). See also RicJi. III. i. 3. 65 and Ham. iv. 5. 9.

85. For. As for, as regards. Gr. 149.

Holds you well. Thinks well of you. Cf. T. and C. ii. 3. 190 : " 'T is

ACT III. SCENE III. ,^c

said he holds you well" (see also iv, i. 77) ; 0th. i. 3. 396 : *• He holds me well."

86. /// dearness of heart. Out of love to you. For holp, see on i. r 43 above.

89. Circumstances shortened. Not to go into particulars. Schmidt makes it — without ceremony. Cf. T. of S. v. i. 28: "To leave frivolous circumstances," etc.

90. A talking of. Cf. Temp. ii. i. 185 : " go a bat-fowling," etc. Gr. 140.

105. Trust that yon see, etc. For the omission of the relative, espe- cially frequent after the demonstrative ///<//, see Gr. 244.

115. Bear it coldly. Keep quiet about it. Cf. ii. 3. 189 above: "let it cool the while." For midnight the folio has "night."

117. Untotvardly. Perversely, unluckily. S. uses the word nowhere else, but he has utitaward {;^xtix2iC\oxy, unmannerly) in T. of S. iv. 5. 79 and K. John, i. i. 243.

Scene \\\.— Dogberry gets his name from a shrub growing in the hedges throughout England, and Verges is the provincial pronunciation of verjuice (Steevens). Halliwell says that Dogberry occurs as a sur- name in a charter of the time of Richard II., and Varges as that of a usurer in MS. Ashmol. 38, where this epitaph is given : " Here lyes fa- ther Varges, who died to save charges."

7. Give them their charge. As Malone remarks, to charge his fellows seems to have been a regular part of the duty of the constable of the watch. Cf. Marston, Insatiate Countess: "Come on, my hearts : we are the city's security ; I '11 give you your charge."

10. George. Halliwell reads "Francis," su])posing him to Ijc the per- son mentioned in iii. 5. 52 below ; but that is not certain.

13. Well-favoured. Good-looking. See on favour, ii. i. 81 above.

21. Lantern. Spelt " lanthorn " in the early eds. The sides of the lantern were then made of horn, and that may have suggested the or- thography, though it has no connection with the etymology of the word. Cf. the quibble in 2 Hen. IV. i. 2. 55 : " he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it." The lantern, like the bill and bell, was a part of the regular equipment of the watch. Cf. Wit in a Constable, 1639 :

"You 're chatting wisely o'er your bills and lanihonis, As becomes watchmen 01 discretion."

31. A^o noise. Cf A', and J. i. 4. 40 : "Dun 's the mouse [appaituiiy — keep still], the constable's own word."

38. Bills. The bill was a kind of pike or halberd, formerly the weap- on of the English infantry. See Rich. II. p. 190. Johnson says that it was still carried by the watchmen of Lichfield in his day. Steevens quotes Ardcn of Fever sham, 1592:

'■ tlie watch Are coming toward our house with glaives and bills."

44. Not the men, etc. Halliwell says that this was the usual excuse made bv Hie constables when thev had scnrche*.'. innocent pcisons.

K

146

NOTES.

53. They that touch fitch. A popular proverb, found in Ecclesiasticus^ xiii. I : " He that touchcth pitch shall be defiled therewith."

60. If you hear a child cry, etc. Steevens remarks : " It is not impos- sible but that part of this scene was intended as a burlesque on The Statutes of the Streets, imprinted by Wolfe in 1595. Among these I find the following :

'22. No man shall blowe any home in the night, within this citie, or whistle after the hour of nyne of the clock in the night, under paine of imprisonment.

'23. No man shall use to goe with visoures, or disguised by night, un- der paine of imprisonment.

'24. Made that night-walkers and evisdroppers, have like punish- ment.

'25. No hammer-man, as a smith, a pewterer, a founder, and all ar- tificers making great sound, shall not worke after the houre of nyne at night,' etc.

'30. No man shall, after the houre of nyne at night, keep any rule,* whereby any such suddaine outcry be made in the still of the night, as making any affray, or beating his wyfe, or servant, or singing, or revyl- ing in his house, to the disturbaunce of his neighbours, under payne of iiis. iiiid.,' etc."

Ben Jonson is thought to have ridiculed this scene in the induction to his Bartholome7o Fair: "And then a substantial \vatch to have stole in upon 'em, and taken them away with mistaking words, as the fashion is in the stage practice." Yet, as ISI. Mason observes, Ben himself, in his Tate of a Tub, makes his wise men of Finsbury speak in the same blun- dering style. Gififord believes it very improbable that Jonson refers to S., as these "mistaking words" were common in the plays of the time, and are elsewhere put into the mouths of constables.

69. Present. Represent ; but not one of Dogberry's blunders. Cf. Temp. iv. i. 167 : "when I presented Ceres ;" and see A/. A^. D. p. 156.

73. Statues. The folio reading; the quarto has "statutes." It is impossible to decide whether the blunder is Dogberry's or the folio printer's.

78. Keep your fellcTivs^ counsels aud your oxou. This is part of the oath of a grand juryman, and is one of many proofs of the poet's familiarity with legal formalities and technicalities.

85. Coil. Bustle, confusion. Cf v. 2. 83 below: "yonder 's old coil at home ;" and see M. N. D. p. 168.

92. Scab. There is a play on the word, which sometimes meant a contemptible fellow. Cf T. iV. ii. 5. 82: "Out, scab !" For the quib- ble, cf T. and C. ii. I. 31, Cor. \. i. 169, and 2 lien. IT. iii. 2. 296.

95. Tent-house. A porch or shed with sloping roof, common in tlie domestic architecture of the time. There was one on the house ia which S. was born, as is shown in the accompanying view copied from an old print.

* Keep rtfiy rw/^-^ pursue any line of conduct. Cf. uigttt rule in AT. X. D. iii 2. 5, and S'.u i.oie in our ed. p. 160.

ACT III. SCEXE III.

M7

JOHN SHAKESPEARE S HOUSE.

96. Like a true drunkard. Malone suggests that S. may have called him Boiachio from the Spanish borracho, a drunkard, or borrac/i.i, a leathern bottle for wine.

103. Villaiiy. Warb. wished to read "villain" here ; but it is natural that Borachio should repeat the word, and the use of the abstract for the concrete is a familiar rhetorical figure.

106. Uncoufinned. Inexperienced; as in L. L. L. iv. 2. 19: "his un- dressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or, rather, unlet- tered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion."

115. This seven year. A common phrase for a long time. See on i. I. 75 above, and cf. i Hen. IV. ii. 4. 343, etc.

120. Bloods. Young fellows. Cf. J. C. iv. 3. 262: "I know voung bloods look for a time of rest." Elsewhere it means men of spirit or mettle ; as in y. C. i. 2. 151 : "the breed of noble bloods." See also A'. y^oAu, ii. I. 278, 461.

122. Reechy. Reeky, smoky, dirty. See Ham. p. 240.

123. 1)1 the old church ivindo^v. That is, in the painted glass. There were threescore and ten o( the £od Be/'s friests, as we Ic.irn from the A/'ocrypha.

124. Smirched. Smutched, soiled. Cf iv. r. 131 below: "smirched thus and mir'd with infamy." See also A. V. L. i. 3. 114 and Hen. V, iii. 3. 17.

I'he shaven Hercules is probably the hero shaved to look like a woman while in the service of Omphale, his Lydian mistress (Stee- vens). Warb. thought that the reference was to Savison whom some Christian mythologists identified with Hercules. Sidney, in his De- fence 0/ roesie, tells of having seen " Ilerci.'cs jjainted with his grciit

148

NOTES.

heard and furious face in a womans attire, spinning at Omphales com- niaiidcment."

132. Me. See on i. 3. 53 above.

135. Possessed. Influenced (Schmidt). Cf. i. i. 169 above: " pos- sessed with a fury." In 141 just below it has much the same sense.

153. A lock. It was a fashion with the gallants of the time to wear a pendent lock of hair over the forehead or behind the ear, sometimes tied with ribbons, and called a ioz'e-Iock. Fynes Moryson, in a description (if the dress of Lord Mountjoy, says that his hair was "thinne on the head, where he wore it short, except a lock under his left eare, which he nourished the tinie of this warre [the Irish War, in 1599], and being woven up, hid it in his neck under his rufiFe." When not on service he l)robably wore it displayed. The portrait of Edward Sackville, Earl of Dorset, painted by Vandyck, shows this lock with a large knot of rib- bon at the end of it hanging under the ear on the left side. See on i. I. 65 above, and cf. IVie Return fr 0771 Par/iassi/s, 1606:

" He whose thin fire dwells in a smoky roofe. Must take tobacco, and must wear a lock."

157. Masters. In the quarto and the folio this speech and the next are both given to Conrade. In the folio, it reads thus: ^' Co7ir. Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey you to goe with vs." The correction, which is generally adopted, was made by Theo.

160. We are like to prove, etc. " Here is a cluster of conceits. Com- viodity was formerly, as now, the usual term for an article of merchan- dise. To take up, besides its common meaning (to apprehc7id), was the phrase for obtaining goods on credit. ' If a man is thorough with them in honest taking up,' savs Falstaff [2 He7i. IV. i. 2. 45], 'then they must stand upon security.' Bill was the term both for a si/igle bond and a hal- berd"' (Malone). For the quibble, cf. 2 He/i. VI. \\\ 7. 135 : "My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, and take up commodities upon our bills.'*"

162. /// qitestio/i. That is, subject to judicial examination (Steevens). Cf 2 Heii. IV\ i. 2. 68 : " He that was in question for the robbery?"

Scene IV.— 6. Rahato. Collar, ruff. Cf. Dekker, Gtds Hornbook, 1609: *' Vour stiff-necked rebatoes (that have more arches for pride to row under, than can stand under five London-bridges) durst not then," etc. Cotgrave, in his Fr. Diet., as quoted by Naies, has ''Rabat — a re- batoe for a woman's ruffe." Cf. "SizYston, Scour-ge of Pllla/iie :

" Alas her soule struts round about her neck ; Her seate ot sense is her rebato set."

S. By my troth, 's not so good. This is the reading of both quarto and folio, as in 17 just below. It is a contraction for "J)y my troth, it 's," etc So this is is shortened into this", as in Lear, iv. 6. 187: "This' a good block" ("This a" in the folio). See Gr. 461.

12. I'tie. Head-dress. Cf. Son7i. 53, 8: "And you in Grecian tires are painted new ;" T. G. of V. iv. 4. 190 : " If I had such a tire," etc.

16. Exceeds. For the intransitive use, cf. Per. ii. 3. 16: "To make sonic good, but others to exceed." The participle is often so used; as M T. (J. oj V. ii. I. 100 : " O exceeding puppet !"

ACT III. SCENE I\\ i^Q

17. Ni^ht-gown. Dressing-gown, or " undress " gown. See .^/u^-^. p. 194.

/;/ respect of—\x\. comparison with ; as in L. L. L. v. 2. 639 : " Hectoi was but a Troyan in respect of this," etc.

18. Cuts. Schmidt defines cut as "a slope in a garment," whatever that may be, and compares T. of S. iv. 3. 90 : " Here "s snip and nip and cut and slish and slash ;" but it is doubtful whether it there has this technical meaning. Pctruchio seems to be merely referring in a profane masculine way to the complicated cutting of the garment, which he has just said is "carv'd like an apple-tart." Immediately after, when the tailor a^ks, " But did you not request to have it cut?" he replies, *' I bid thy master cut out the gown ; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces." Perhaps this dialect of the mantua-maker is beyond the ken of tiie male critic.

19. Do-unt sUn'cs. "Hanging sleeves" (Schmidt). As sute-s/ceirs un- doubtedly means long or hanging sleeves, Steevens reads "set with pearls down sleeves." In Laneham's Account of Queen Elizabetli's En- tertaiiwient at Kenehvoitk-Castle, 1575, the minstiel's "gown had side- sleeves down to the mid-leg." Stowe, in his Chronicle, describes these sleeves as worn in the time of Henry IV., some of which, he says, "hung downe to the feete, and at least to the knees, full of cuts and jagges, whereupon were made these verses :

' Now hath this land little neede of broomes. To sweepe away ilie filth out of the streele. Sen side-sleeves of pennilesse grooines Will it up licke be it drie or weete.' "

Side or syde is said to be used, in the North of England and in Scot- land, in the sense oi long when applied to garments. \ side-gi^.vn-Vi long one; as in the Paston Letters: "a short bine gown that was made of a side-gosvn." Cf. Y'\iz\\e\hex\.'s Book of Ihisbandrv : "Theyr cotes be so syde that they be f:tyne to tucke them up whan they ride, as wom- en do theyr kyrtels whan they go to the market."

W. remarks here : "The dress was made after a fashion which is il- lustrated in many old portraits. Beside a sleeve which fitted more or less closely to the arm and extended to the wrist, there was another, for ornament, which hung from the shoulder, wide and open." If this ex- planation is correct, doiun sleeves would mean the inner close sleeves, side-sleeves the outer loose ones.

Underborne. According to Schmidt and Halliwell, this is = trimmed, or faced.

20. Quaint. Fanciful, or elegant. CC T. of S. iv. 3. 102: "a gown more quaint, more pleasing," etc.

29. Saving your rrc'erence. " Margaret means that Hero was so prud- ish as to think that the mere mention of the word husband required an apology" (Camb. ed.).

Tj'}). Light. vS. is fond of playing on the different senses oi light : as here on that of light in weight and that of wanton (as in "a light wom- an "). Cf. C. of E. iii. 2. 52. /!/. X. D. iii. 2. 1 33, AL of V. iii. 2. 91, Kich. II. iii. 4. 86, T. and C. i. 3. 28, Cvtnb. v. 4. 25, etc.

,^0 NOTES.

39. Light o' love. A popular old dance tune, referred to again in T. G. of y. i. 2. 83 : "best sing it to the tune ot" 'Light u' love.'" Ci". Fletclier, Two Noble Kinsmen: "He gallops to the tune ot 'Light o' love.'"

41. Yea, light o' love. The early cds. have "Ye light o' love," which Hailiwell and the Camb. ed. retain. The tormer says that light 0' love was a common term for a woman of light character.

42. See. The folio has "look." In hams there is a quibbling refer- ence to bairns — oXxAAxtw. Cf W. T. iii. 3. 70: "Mercy on 's, a barne ! a very pretty barne !" A. W. i. 3. 28 : " they say barnes are blessings."

44. / scorn that with my heels. A common expression, which is play- ed upon by Lancelot in M. of V. ii. 2. 9 : "scorn running with thy heels."

47. Ready. Dressed. See Macb. p. 202, note on Fnt on manly readi- ness.

48. For a hawk, tic. Heigh ho for a Husband \\2iS, the title of an old ballad. See on ii. i. 287 above.

49. For the letter, etc. Referring to ache which was pronounced aitch, as explained in Temp. p. 119. Cf. Heywood, Epigra7nmes^ 1566:

"// is worst among letters in the crosse-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 H niay pike him. Wherever thou find actie thou shalt nut like h'm ;"

and Wit" s Recreation, 1640:

" Nor hawk, nor hound, nor liorse, those hhh. But ach itself, 't is Brutus' bones attaches. '

It was only the noun, however, that had this pronunciation ; the verb was pronounced and often spelt ake. In V.and A. 875 and C. of E. iii. I. 58, the verb rhymes with brake and sake. The noun is of course dis- syllabic in the plural, as is evident from the measure in Tctnp. i. 2. 370, T. of A. i. I. 257, V. I. 202.

50. Turned Turk. A proverbial expression = com])letely changed for the worse. Cf. Ham. iii. 2. 287 : "if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me;" Cook, Greeii's Tn Quoque : "This it is to turn Turk, from an absolute and most compleat gentleman, to a most absurd, ridiculous, and fond lover."

52. Trow. That is, T trozv — l wonder (Schmidt), or tro7v ir = think ye (Hailiwell). Cf. M. W. i. 4. 140 : " Who 's there, I trow .>" Cymb. i. 6. 47: "What is the matter, trow?" In affirmative sentences, / tro7o is often = " I dare say, certainly" (Schmidt). Cf. Rich. If. ii. i. 218, i He?i. AY. ii. I. 41. V. I. 56, R. and'y. i. 3. 33, etc.

55. Glcrves. Presents of gloves were much in fashion in the time of S.

61. Professed apprehension. Set up for a wit ; as the answer shows.

66. Carduus Benedictns. The blessed thistle, or holy thistle, an annu- al plant from the south of Europe, which got its name from its reputa- tion as a cure-all. It was even sup])osed to cure the plague, which was the highest praise that could be given to a medicine in that day. Stee-

ACT III. SCENE r. 13,

"vens quotes Cogan, Haven of Health, 1595 : "This herbe may worthily be called Beuedictus, or Omuimorbiii, that is, a salve for every sore, not knowen to physitians of old time, but lately revealed by the spcciall providence of Almighty God." The V'ertuose Hoke of DystilUuyoii of the Waters of all maiier of Ilcrhes, 1 527, says that " Water of Cardo Hcne- dictus . . . heleth al dysseases that breimcth," llayne, in his Life of Luther^ 1641, states that about 1527 Luther "fell sick of a congealing blood about his heart," but "drinking the water of cardiius bentaiitiis, he was presently helped." The plant retains little of its ancient repu- tation in our day ; though, according to Sweringen's rhnrmacmtiLal Lexicon (Fhila. 1873), '^ '^ naturalized in this country and "considcicd tonic, diaphoretic, and emetic."

71. Moral. "That is, some secret meaning, like the moral of a fable" (Johnson). Cf. T. of S. iv. 4. 79 : " to expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens."

80. Eats his meat without giiuigiticr. "And yet now, in spite of his resolution to the contrary, \\t feeds on loi'e, and likes his food" (Malone),

82. Look -ajitk your eyes, tic. "That is, direct your eyes toward the same object, namely, a husband " (Steevens).

84. A false gallop. Cf. A. V. L. iii. 2. 1 19 : " the very false gallop of verses." It is apparently — " forced gait" (i Ihn.IV. iii. 1. 135). See A. KZ. p. 171.

Scene V. — 9. Off the matter. Astray, away from the subject. Cf. Cytnb.\.\. 17: "a great deal from the matter." O^is Cupell's emen- dation for the "of" of the early eds.

II. Homst as the skin between his brows. A proverbial expression. Cf. Gammer Giirton's Needle, 1575: "I am as true, I would thou knew, as skin betwene thy brows ;" Cartwright, Ordinary, v. 2 : " I am as honest as the skin that is between thy brows," etc.

15. Palabras. That is, /^mx/aAz^v/j, Spanish = few words. QX.T.of^ S. ind. i. 5 : "Therefore paucas pallabris ; let the world slide: sessa ! Henley cites The Spanish Tragedy: " I'ocas pallal)ras, milde as the lambe.'" Palabras has become naturalized in palaver.

17. Tedious. The tediousness of constables was proverbial. Cf. B. J., Cynthia's Revels: "Ten constables are not so tedious."

19. The poor duke's officers. For the blundering transposition, cf. J/. for M. ii. I. 47 : "I am the poor duke's constable" (cf. 185). ^^

23. A thousand pound. See on i. i. 75 above. The folio has "times

{ox pound. , ^ , , I 1

33. When the a^e, etc. An obvious blunder for the old provcih, "When the wine is in, the wit is out." Ileywood, in his Epigramwes, gives it " When ale is in, wit is out."

rtA. A 7vorld to see. " A treat to see " (Schmidt) ; " wonderful to see (Steevens); or "worth seeing" (Holt White). Cf. T. of S. u. i.3«3: . "'t is a world to see How tame," etc. Baret, in his Alveanc, 1580, ex- plains " It is a world to heare" by "it is a thing worthie the hearing ; and in the Myrrour of Good Manners compylcd in Latin, etc., " Est ope- rae pretium doctos snectare colonos" is rendered ".\ world it is to se

,e2 NOTES.

wyse tyllers of the grounde." Many other examples of the expression niiglu be given.

35. God V a good via7i. Another proverbial expression. Steevens quotes the old morality oi Lusty Juvenilis:

" He wyl say, that God is a good Man, He can make him no better, and say the best he can ;"

A Mery Geste of Robin Hoode : "For God is hold a righteous man;" Burton, Amxt. of Melancholy : "God is a good man, and will doe no harme," etc.

47. Sitfigame. That is, sufficient.

54- Examine those. The folio reading ; the quarto has "examination these." W. remarks : " The blunder in the quarto is entirely out of place in Dogberry's mouth ; it is not of the sort which S. has made characteristic of his mind. Dogberry mistakes the significance of words, but never errs in the forms of speech ; he is not able to discrim- inate between sounds that are like without being the same, but he is never at fault in grammar ; and this putting of a substantive into his mouth for a verb is entirely at variance with his habit of thought, and confounds his cacology with that which is of quite another sort." It may be added that Dogberry has used the verb correctly in 44 above.

56. Here's that, etc. He touches his head as he speaks.

57. A'on-come. "To a 7ion compos mentis, put them out of their wits; or, perhaps, he confounds the term with non phis'" (Malone).

ACT IV.

Scene I. — 6. No. We must agree with Gervinus (see p. 17 above) that the behaviour of Claudio here is " heartless." We do not know that Mr, Charles Cowden Clarke is too hard upon him when he says {Shake- speare-Characters, p. 306): "Claudio is a fellow of no nobleness of character, for instead of being the last, he is the first to believe his mis- tress guilty of infidelity towards him, and he then adopts the basest and the most brutal mode of punishment by casting her off at the very altar. Genuine love is incapable of revenge of any sort — I hold that to be a truism — still less of a concocted and refined revenge. Claudio is a sannulrel in grain." Miss Cecilia O'Brien ("Shakespeare's Young Men, in the Westminster Re7>ie7v, Oct. 1876) classes Claudio with Tybalt and Laertes. She says : "The voung men of the fifth tvpe . . . hav'e all certam good ponits, but they are unbalanced men, and easily hurried into excesses through over-confidence in their own judgment.' Tybalt Claudio, and Laertes belong to this class, and they have all the same peculiarity. They are so fully persuaded of the justice and right of their own ideas that they take any means to gain their object, qui"^te dis- regarchng the cruelty, treachery, or meanness which they perpetrate Claudio IS an accomplished and gallant gentleman, much liked by his friends, and really attached to Hero; but he is so bent on aven-ing his

ACT IV. SCEXE /. 1^3

own fancied wrong, so sure tliat he has the rij^ht to cl(j so, that he quite ignores the cruel injustice of condemning his bride unlieard. There is no real sense of justice about any of this class ; their feeling of honour is touched, and they are wild for revenge, but they do not care how un- justly they get it. There is a little touch of afTcctation about Claudio, not so strong as in Tybalt; but Don John talks of ' the exquisite (*lau- dio,' and Benedick jeers at his fantastical language and the love of finery which he develojis after falling in love." Of Benedick, on the other liand, she says : " Benedick tries hard to appear to have neither heart nor feeling, but they come out in spite of him. His mocking laugh dies into silence when people are in real trouble ; he cannot resist trying to take Hero's part, and believes in her innocence more readily than her own father ... It is curious with what cool contempt he treats Claudio when Beatrice makes him quarrel with him, as if there had been a lurk- ing feeling in his mind that a weak nature was concealed under his friend's taking exterior."

12. If either of you k>to7u, Gtc. Douce remarks: "This is borrowed from our Marriage Ceremony, which (with a few slight changes in phra^e- ology) is the same as was used in the time of Shakesi>eare."

21. Some be of laughing, etc. A quotation from the old grammars. Cf. Lyly, Eudymion, 1591, where one of the characters exclaims " Hcv- ho !" "What's that?" another asks; and the reply is : "An interjec- tion, whereof some are of mourning : as eho, vahy

23. Stand thee. The thee is possibly^/Z/c//. See on iii. i. i above.

29. Render. Give. Cf A. V. L. \. 2. 21 : "What he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection," etc.

30. Learn. Teach. Cf. Temp. i. 2. 365 : " For learning me your lan- guage," etc. See also A. V. L. p. 141.

37. Comes not, etc. Is not that modest blush the evidence of artless innocence ?

41. Luxurious. Lustful ; as in Macb. iv. 3. 58, etc. It is the only sense in which S. uses either the adjective or the noun. See Hen. V. p. 166, note on Luxury.

44. Knit. Cf M. N. D. i. i. 172 : " By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves ;" Cymb. ii. 3. 122 : "to knit their souls," etc.

Approved. See on ii. I. 340 above.

45. In your ozvn proof. In your own trial of her (Tyrwhitt).

47. Defeat. Ruin, destruction. Cf Hen. /'. i. 2. 107: "Making de- feat on the full power of France ;" Htm. ii. 2. 598 :

" Upon whose propei ty and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made."

^g. Large. Free, licentious. Cf ii. 3. iSi above : "large jests." 53. Out on thy seeming! The old eds. have " Out on thee seeming, I will," etc. K. and V. have " Out on the seeming !" W. gives " Out on thee ! Seeming !" The reading in the text was suggested by Pope, and is adopted by D., IT., Halliwell, and others. / lijili lurite against it, etc. Cf Cymb. ii. 5. 32 :

"I '11 write against them, Detest them, curse ihem."

154 NOTES.

55. As is (he hud. "Before the air has tasted its sweetness" (John- son).

58. Rage. The Coll. MS. has "range," and in the next line "wild" for wide. On the latter word, cf. T. and C. iii. I. 97, Lear, iv. 7, 50, etc.

61. Gone aboiit. Endeavoured. Cf. i. 3. ii above.

62. Stale. See on ii. 2. 23 above.

63. Are these thifigs, etc. Cf. Macb. i. 3. 83 : " Were such things here as we do speak about.-'"

65. A'npdal. S. uses only the singular in this sense, except in Per. V. 3. 80. See Temp. p. 143, and cf. J. C. p. 183, note on his funerals.

True! O God ! This certainly refers to what Don John has just said. Some eds. print "True, O God !" as if it were a reply to Benedick; and perhaps it is.

70. Moz'e one question. Cf. T. and C. ii. 3. 89 : " We dare not move the question of our place."

71. Kindly. Natural. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. iv. 5. 84: "kindly tears," etc. In A. and C. ii. 5. 78, "kindly creatures " = such as the land naturally produces. Cf. "kindly fruits of the earth " in the Prayer-Biwk.

89. Liberal. Licentious. See Hain. p. 258.

90. Encounters. Meetings ; as in iii. 3. 136 above. See also Temp. iii. I. 74, v. I. 154, etc.

93. Spoke. We have had spoken in 63 above. Gr. 343.

96. Misgovernment. Want of self-control, misconduct. S. uses the word only here, but he has nnsgovcrning in the same sense in R.of I^.

654.

On thy much, cf. M.for M. v. i. 534 : " thy much goodness," etc. See also Matt. vi. 7.

97. What a Hero, etc. Johnson says : " I am afraid here is intended a poor conceit upon the word Hero f but, as Halliwell remarks, this is very improbable.

103. Conjecture. Suspicion. Cf. W. T. ii. i. 176: "as gross as ever touch'd conjecture ;" Ham. iv. 5. 15 :

"she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds."

105. Graciotis. Lovely, attractive ; as in T. A\ i. 5. 281, K. Johti, iii. 4. 81, 96, etc. The word is here a trisvllable. Gr. 479.

log. Smother her spirits up. Cf. Hen. V. iv. 5. 20 : "To smother up the English," etc.

114. May. Can. See on ii. 3. 19 above, and cf. iii. 2. 103 : "May this be so ?"

120. The story, etc. "That is, the story which her blushes discover to be true " (Johnson), Schmidt takes blood to be used in the same sense as in ii. i. 162 above. Seymour objects to the fornier explanation that Hero had fainted ; but we find the Friar afterwards referring to the "thousand blushing apparitions" he had noted in her face, and this may be a similar reference.

123. Spirits. Monosyllabic, as often. Gr. 463.

124. On the rcarivard. Cf. Sonn. 90. 6: "In the rearward of a con- qucr'd woe." See also 2 Hen. IF. iii. 2. 339.

ACT IV. SCENE I. l^^

126. Chid. Similarly followed by at in T. G. of V. ii. i. 78. A. Y. L. iii. 5. 129, IV. T. iv. 4, 6, etc. Elsewhere it is followed by 'vil.'i ; as in Soiin. III. I, Ot/i. iv 2. 167, and Cytnb. v. 4. 32.

Frame. " Order, disposition of things " (Stecvens). Schmidt, less happily, makes y)v7w^ = mould (as in W. T. ii. 3. 103), and explains the passai^e, " Did I grumble against the niggaidness of nature's casting- mould ?"

127. One too much by thee. Cf. T. G. of l\ v. 4. 52 : " too much by t»ne."' 131. Who smirched. Who being smirched, if she were smirched. See

Gr. 377. For smirched (cf. iii. 3. 124 above) the folio has " smeeied."

Mii'd. Soiled. Used again as a verb (—sink in mud) in T. oj A. iv. 3. 147: "Paint till a horse may mire upon your t'ace." llalliwell cites Palsgrave, Lesclarcissement de la Langne Fraiuoyse, 1530 : "I myai, I beraye with myar ; the poore man is myred up to the knees ;" and Tay- lor, IVorhes, 1630 :

" I was well entred (forty winters since) As farre z^s possum in my Accidence ; And reading but from />ossum lo posset, There was 1 mir'd, aud could no further get.'

134. And t/iitie I lov'd, etc. Warb. strangely wanted to read "as mine I lov'd, as mine I prais'd, As mine," etc. For the ellipsis of the relative, see Gr. 244 ; and for <7// = ^ Gr. 181.

137. Valuing of her. "Estimating what she was to me" (Schmidt).

138. lyiat. So that. Gr. 283. On the passage, cf Macl>. ii. 6. 60 :

" Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blond Clean from my hand?"

140. Season. For the metaphor, cf. A. IV. i. i. 55 : " 'T is the best brine a maiden can season her praise in ;" T. A'', i. i. 30 :

"all this to season A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance ;"

^. and y. ii. 3. 72 :

" How much salt water thrown away in waste, To season love, thai of it doth not taste!"