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LEONATO’S Garden. | |
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Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. | |
| Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour; | |
| There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice | |
| Proposing with the prince and Claudio: | 5 |
| Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula | |
| 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 honey-suckles, ripen’d by the sun, | 10 |
| Forbid the sun to enter; like favourites, | |
| Made proud by princes, that advance their pride | |
| 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. | 15 |
| Marg. I’ll 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 | 20 |
| To praise him more than ever man did merit. | |
| My talk to thee must be how Benedick | |
| Is sick in love with Beatrice: of this matter | |
| Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made, | |
| That only wounds by hearsay. | 25 |
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Enter BEATRICE, behind. | |
| Now begin; | |
| For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs | |
| Close by the ground, to hear our conference. | |
| Urs. The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish | 30 |
| 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. | |
| Fear you not my part of the dialogue. | 35 |
| Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing | |
| Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. [They advance to the bower. | |
| No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; | |
| I know her spirits are as coy and wild | |
| As haggerds of the rock. | 40 |
| Urs. But are you sure | |
| That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? | |
| Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed lord. | |
| Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? | |
| Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; | 45 |
| But I persuaded them, if they lov’d Benedick, | |
| To wish him wrestle with affection, | |
| And never to let Beatrice know of it. | |
| Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman | |
| Deserve as full as fortunate a bed | 50 |
| 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; | 55 |
| 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, | 60 |
| She is so self-endear’d. | |
| Urs. 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, | 65 |
| How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur’d, | |
| 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 antick, | |
| Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; | 70 |
| If low, an agate very vilely cut; | |
| If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; | |
| If silent, why, a block moved with none. | |
| So turns she every man the wrong side out, | |
| And never gives to truth and virtue that | 75 |
| Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. | |
| Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. | |
| Hero. 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, | 80 |
| 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, | 85 |
| Which is as bad as die with tickling. | |
| Urs. 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’ll devise some honest slanders | 90 |
| To stain my cousin with. One doth not know | |
| How much an ill word may empoison liking. | |
| Urs. O! do not do your cousin such a wrong. | |
| She cannot be so much without true judgment,— | |
| Having so swift and excellent a wit | 95 |
| As she is priz’d to have,—as to refuse | |
| So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. | |
| Hero. He is the only man of Italy, | |
| Always excepted my dear Claudio. | |
| Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, | 100 |
| 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. | |
| Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. | 105 |
| When are you married, madam? | |
| Hero. Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in: | |
| I’ll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel | |
| Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. | |
| Urs. She’s lim’d, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam. | 110 |
| Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: | |
| Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [Exeunt HERO and URSULA. | |
| Beat. [Advancing.] What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? | |
| Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much? | |
| Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! | 115 |
| No glory lives behind the back of such. | |
| And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, | |
| Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand: | |
| If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee | |
| To bind our loves up in a holy band, | 120 |
| For others say thou dost deserve, and I | |
| Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. | |
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