MARG. So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many ill qualities. BALTH. Which is one? MARG. I say my prayers aloud. BALTH. I love you the better: the hearers may cry, Amen. MARG. God match me with a good dancer! BALTH. Amen. MARG. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done! Answer, clerk. BALTH. No more words: the clerk is answered. URS. I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio. ANT. At a word, I am not. URS. I know you by the waggling of your head. ANT. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. URS. You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were the very man. Here's his dry hand up and down: you are he, you are he. ANT. At a word, I am not. URS. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he: graces will appear, and there's an end. BEAT. Will you not tell me who told you so? BEAT. Nor will you not tell me who you are? 100 102 his dry hand . . . down] his dry hand (i. e. a sign of old age) all 110 over. BENE. Not now. BEAT. 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. BENE. What's he? BEAT. I am sure you know him well enough. BENE. Not I, believe me. BEAT. Did he never make you laugh? BENE. I pray you, what is he? BEAT. 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 angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet: I would he had boarded me. BENE. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. BEAT. Do, do: he 'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [Music.] We must follow the leaders. BENE. In every good thing. BEAT. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. 119 113 the "Hundred Merry Tales"] The title of a popular jest book of the day, first printed and published in London by John Rastell in 1526, and frequently reissued. 132 [Dance. Then exeunt all except Don John, Borachio, and Claudio. D. 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 Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it.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. BORA. And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing. D. JOHN. Are not you Signior Benedick? D. JOHN. 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. CLAUD. How know you he loves her? D. JOHN. I heard him swear his affection. BORA. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night. D. JOHN. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt Don John and Borachio. CLAUD. 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 affairs of love: Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch, 140 150 This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero! Re-enter BENEDICK BENE. Count Claudio? CLAUD. Yea, the same. BENE. Come, will you go with me? BENE. Even to the next willow, about your own business, county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. CLAUD. I wish him joy of her. BENE. Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier; so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus? CLAUD. I pray you, leave me. 160 170 BENE. HO! now you strike like the blind man; 't was the boy that stole your meat, and you 'll beat the post. CLAUD. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit. 178 BENE. 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 loyalty (in friendship) is swallowed up by the heat of passion. This is an incident of hourly experience, though it did not cause me mistrust, though I did not suspect it. 167 garland] Cf. forsaken Barbara's song in Othello, IV, iii, 49: "Sing all a green willow must be my garland." See 1. 194, infra. 168 usurer's chain] the gold chain usually worn by wealthy citizens. 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 into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may. Re-enter DON PEDRO D. PEDRO. Now, signior, where's the count? did you see him? BENE. 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 garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. D. PEDRO. To be whipped! What's his fault? BENE. The flat transgression of a school-boy, who, being overjoyed with finding a birds' nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it. D. PEDRO. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer. BENE. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been 183-185 it is the base gives me out] it is the evil, nay, rather, the bitter-tongued disposition of Beatrice, that makes her claim to personate the world and to speak the opinion of the world, and then gives me this character. 190 a lodge in a warren] a keeper's hut, necessarily a lonely dwelling, in a game preserve. 188 201 |