and will lend nothing for God's sake: 'Pray Bene. O, stay but till then! you, examine him upon that point. [pains. Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now :Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thank- for, which is, with knowing what hath passed beful and reverend youth; and I praise God for tween you and Claudio. Leon. There's for thy pains. Dogb. God save the foundation. Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, | and I thank thee. [you. Dogb. I leave an errant 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. [Exeunt DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Watch. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. [to-morrow. Ant. Farewell, my lords: we look for you D. Pedro. We will not fail. Clarul. To-night I'll monrn with Hero. [Exeunt DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO, Leon. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fel [Exeunt low. SCENE II. Leonato's Garden. Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting. Bene. 'Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it. Marg. To have no man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth: it catches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice I give thee the bucklers. Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own. Pene. If you use them, Margaret, you must Bene. Only foul words: and thereupon I will kiss thee. Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit: But, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge: and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? Beat. For them altogether; which maintained so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? Bene. Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates. [ably. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceBeat. It appears not in this confession: there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours: if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument, than the bell rings, and the widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question-Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum: Therefore it is most expedient for the wise (if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary), to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself: So much for praising myself (who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy), and now tell me, How doth your cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there put in the pikes with a vice; and they are dan-will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. gerous weapons for maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, And knows me, and knows me, Hoe pitiful I deserve, [Singing. Enter URSULA. Urs. Madam, you 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? I mean, in singing; but in loving,-Leander the Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior! good swimmer, Trolius the first employer of panBene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, ders, and a whole book fall of these quondam and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover, I will carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly go with thee to thy uncle's. Exeunt. in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self, in love: Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhyme to lady but baby, an innocent rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; for school, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival tornis. Enter BEATRICE. Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I called thee? Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. SCENE III. The Inside of a Church. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? Done to death by slanderous tongues Hang thou there upon the tomb, [affixing it. Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. Pardon, Goddess of the night, Graves, yawn, and yield your dead, Heavily, heavily. Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night! D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your torches out; [tle day, The wolves have prey'd; and look, the genBefore the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray: Thanks to you all, and leave us, fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way. D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go. [speeds, Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier issue Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Room in Leonato's House. Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE, URSULA, Friar, and HERO. Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent? Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accus'd her Upon the error that you heard debated: [well. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; [all, And, when I send for you, come hither, mask'd: 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. [Exeunt Ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, Ithink. Friar. To do what, signior? Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'Tis most true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. From Claudio and the prince: But what's your In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. Here comes the prince, and Claudio. Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio. We here attend you; are you yet determin'd That you have such a February face, Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked. Claud. For this I owe you: here come other reckonings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? see your face. Leon. No that you shall not, till you take her Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand before this holy. I am your husband, if you like of me. [friar; Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife: [Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other hus- [band. Nothing certainer: One Hero died defil'd; but I do live, And, surely as I live, I am a maid. D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is Bene. Soft, and fair, friar.-Which is Beatrice Why, no, no more than reason. Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio, Have been deceived; for they swore you did. Beat. Do not you love me? Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason. Beat. Why, then, my cousin, Margaret, and Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. Ursula, Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me. Deat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. [love me? Bene. 'Tis no such matter:-Then, you do not Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. [her; Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice. Hero. And here's another, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live our hearts!-Come, I will have thee; but, by unbruised, and love my cousin. this light, I take thee for pity. Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth. [Kissing her. D. Pedro. How lost thou, Benedick the married man? Bene. I'll 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 shail wear nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do propose 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 Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends:-let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. Bene. First, o'my word; therefore, play, musick.-Prince, thou art sad: get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipp'd with horn. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, and brought with armed men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow, I'll devise thee brave punishments for him.-Strike up, pipers. [Dance. Exeunt. Midsummer Night's Dream. Act First. SCENE I. Athens. A Room in the Palace of Theseus. The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Four nights will quickly dream away the time; The. With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint As she is mine, I may dispose of her: But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier. Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes. [look. The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am made bold; Nor how it may concern my modesty, In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts; But I beseech your grace that I may know The worst that may befall me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius. The. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, new-moon (The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, [yield Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia;-And, Lysander, Thy crazed title to my certain right. Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius: Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. [love, Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my And what is mine my love shall render him; And she is mine: and all my right of her I do estate unto Demetrius. Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, As well possess'd: my love is more than his; My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, If not with vantage, as Demetrius: And, which is more than all these boasts can be, I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia: Why should not I then prosecute my right? Demetrics, I'll avouch it to his head, Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, Upon this spotted and inconstant man. The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to have spoke But, being over full of self-affairs, [thereof; Or else the law of Athens yield you up I must employ you in some business How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike, for want of rain; which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes. Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth: But, either it was different in blood; Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd too low! Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years; Her. O spite! too old to be engaged to young! Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends: Her. O hell! to choose love by another's eye! Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; Making it momentary as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say,-Behold! The jaws of darkness do devour it up; So quick bright things come to confusion. Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an edict in destiny: Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross; As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers. Lys. A good persuasion; therefore hear me, I have a widow aunt, a dowager [Hermia. [sighs, Of great revenue, and she hath no child: Her. My good Lysander! I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow; By his best arrow with the golden head, By the simplicity of Venus' doves: By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves, And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair! pear. Sickness is catching; O, were favour so! Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, But herein mean I to enrich my pain, Quin. Is all our company here? Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.play treats on; then read the names of the actors; Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my and so grow to a point. smiles such skill! Quin. Marry, our play is-The most lamentHer I give him curses, yet he gives me love.able comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus Hel. O, that my prayers could such affection and Thisby. move! Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. Her. And in the wood, where often you and I [Exit LYSANDER. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you. and a merry.-Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll: Masters, spread yourselves. [the weaver. Quin. Answer, as I call you,-Nick Bottom Bot. Ready: Name what part I am for, and [Pyramus. proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true per- With shivering shocks, Of prison gates: And Phibbus' car Shall shine from far, And make and mar This was lofty!-Now name the rest of the Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. Quin. You must take Thisby on you. Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice;-Thisne, Thisne-Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear! Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Star. Here, Peter Quince. Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play This Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself Thisby's father:-Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part: Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is no thing but roaring. |