Much Ado About Nothing

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Original text
Act III, Scene I
Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrsula.

Hero.
Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour,
There shalt thou finde my Cosin Beatrice,
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio,
Whisper her eare, and tell her I and Vrsula,
Walke in the Orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs,
And bid her steale into the pleached bower,
Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne,
Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites,
Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride,
Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her,
To listen our purpose, this is thy office,
Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone.

Marg.
Ile make her come I warrant you presently.

Hero.
Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley vp and downe,
Our talke must onely be of Benedicke,
When I doe name him, let it be thy part,
To praise him more then euer man did merit,
My talke to thee must be how Benedicke
Is sicke in loue with Beatrice: of this matter,
Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin,
Enter Beatrice.
For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
Close by the ground, to heare our conference.

Vrs.
The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden ores the siluer streame,
And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite:
So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now,
Is couched in the wood-bine couerture,
Feare you not my part of the Dialogue.

Her.

Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing,
Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it:
No truely Vrsula, she is too disdainfull,
I know her spirits are as coy and wilde,
As Haggerds of the rocke.

Vrsula.
But are you sure,
That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely?

Her.
So saies the Prince, and my new trothed Lord.

Vrs.
And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?

Her.
They did intreate me to acquaint her of it,
But I perswaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke,
To wish him wrastle with affection,
And neuer to let Beatrice know of it.

Vrsula.
Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman
Deserue as full as fortunate a bed,
As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon?

Hero.
O God of loue! I know he doth deserue,
As much as may be yeelded to a man:
But Nature neuer fram'd a womans heart,
Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice:
Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes,
Mis-prizing what they looke on, and her wit
Values it selfe so highly, that to her
All matter else seemes weake: she cannot loue,
Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection,
Shee is so selfe indeared.

Vrsula.
Sure I thinke so,
And therefore certainely it were not good
She knew his loue, lest she make sport at it.

Hero.
Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd.
But she would spell him backward: if faire fac'd,
She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister:
If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke,
Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed:
If low, an agot very vildlie cut:
If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes:
If silent, why a blocke moued with none.
So turnes she euery man the wrong side out,
And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that
Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth.

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

Hero.
No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,
But who dare tell her so? if I should speake,
She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit,
Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire,
Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly:
It were a better death, to die with mockes,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

Vrsu.
Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say.

Hero.
No, rather I will goe to Benedicke,
And counsaile him to fight against his passion,
And truly Ile deuise some honest slanders,
To staine my cosin with, one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoison liking.

Vrsu.
O doe not doe your cosin such a wrong,
She cannot be so much without true iudgement,
Hauing so swift and excellent a wit
As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse
So rare a Gentleman as signior Benedicke.

Hero.
He is the onely man of Italy,
Alwaies excepted, my deare Claudio.

Vrsu.
I pray you be not angry with me, Madame,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedicke,
For shape, for bearing argument and valour,
Goes formost in report through Italy.

Hero.
Indeed he hath an excellent good name.

Vrsu.
His excellence did earne it ere he had it:
When are you married Madame?

Hero.
Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in,
Ile shew thee some attires, and haue thy counsell,
Which is the best to furnish me to morrow.

Vrsu.

Shee's tane I warrant you, / We haue caught her Madame?

Hero.

If it proue so, then louing goes by haps,
Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps.
Exit.

Beat.
What fire is in mine eares? can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much?
Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew,
No glory liues behinde the backe of such.
And Benedicke, loue on, I will requite thee,
Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand:
If thou dost loue, my kindenesse shall incite thee
To binde our loues vp in a holy band.
For others say thou dost deserue, and I
Beleeue it better then reportingly.
Exit.
Original text
Act III, Scene II
Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.

Prince.
I doe but stay till your marriage be consummate,
and then go I toward Arragon.

Clau.
Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchsafe
me.

Prin.
Nay, that would be as great a soyle in the new
glosse of your marriage, as to shew a childe his new coat
and forbid him to weare it, I will onely bee bold with Benedicke
for his companie, for from the crowne of his head,
to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice or
thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hang-man
dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart as sound as a
bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart
thinkes, his tongue speakes.

Bene.
Gallants, I am not as I haue bin.

Leo.
So say I, methinkes you are sadder.

Claud.
I hope he be in loue.

Prin.
Hang him truant, there's no true drop of
bloud in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sad,
he wants money.

Bene.
I haue the tooth-ach.

Prin.
Draw it.

Bene.
Hang it.

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

Prin.
What? sigh for the tooth-ach.

Leon.
Where is but a humour or a worme.

Bene.
Well, euery one cannot master a griefe, but hee that
has it.

Clau.
Yet say I, he is in loue.

Prin.
There is no appearance of fancie in him, vnlesse
it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to
bee a Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow:
vnlesse hee haue a fancy to this
foolery, as it appeares hee hath, hee is no foole for fancy, as
you would haue it to appeare he is.

Clau.
If he be not in loue vvith some woman, there is
no beleeuing old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings,
What should that bode?

Prin.
Hath any man seene him at the Barbers?

Clau.
No, but the Barbers man hath beene seen with
him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath alreadie
stuft tennis balls.

Leon.
Indeed he lookes yonger than hee did, by the
losse of a beard.

Prin.
Nay a rubs himselfe with Ciuit, can you smell
him out by that?

Clau.
That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in
loue.

Prin.
The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

Clau.
And when was he wont to wash his face?

Prin.
Yea, or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare
what they say of him.

Clau.
Nay, but his iesting spirit, which is now crept
into a lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops.

Prin.
Indeed that tels a heauy tale for him: conclude,
he is in loue.

Clau.
Nay, but I know who loues him.

Prince.
That would I know too, I warrant one that
knowes him not.

Cla.
Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all,
dies for him.

Prin.
Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards.

Bene.
Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old
signior, walke aside with mee, I haue studied eight or nine
wise words to speake to you, which these hobby-horses
must not heare.

Prin.
For my life to breake with him about Beatrice.

Clau.
'Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this
played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Beares
will not bite one another when they meete.
Enter Iohn the Bastard.

Bast.
My Lord and brother, God saue you.

Prin.
Good den brother.

Bast.
If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you.

Prince.
In priuate?

Bast.
If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare,
for what I would speake of, concernes him.

Prin.
What's the matter?

Basta.
Meanes your Lordship to be
married to morrow?

Prin.
You know he does.

Bast.
I know not that when he knowes what I know.

Clau.
If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer
it.

Bast.
You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare
hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will
manifest, for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well,
and in dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing
marriage: surely sute ill spent, and labour ill bestowed.

Prin.
Why, what's the matter?

Bastard.
I came hither to tell you, and circumstances
shortned, (for she hath beene too long a talking of) the
Lady is disloyall.

Clau.
Who Hero?

Bast.
Euen shee, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery
mans Hero.

Clau.
Disloyall?

Bast.
The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse,
I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse
title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further
warrant: goe but with mee to night, you shal see her
chamber window entred, euen the night before her
wedding day, if you loue her, then to morrow wed her:
But it would better fit your honour to change your minde.

Claud.
May this be so?

Princ.
I will not thinke it.

Bast.
If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not
that you know: if you will follow mee, I will shew you
enough, and when you haue seene more, & heard more,
proceed accordingly.

Clau.
If I see any thing to night, why I should not
marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I
shold wedde, there will I shame her.

Prin.
And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will
ioyne with thee to disgrace her.

Bast.
I will disparage her no farther, till you are my
witnesses, beare it coldly but till night, and let the
issue shew it selfe.

Prin.
O day vntowardly turned!

Claud.
O mischiefe strangelie thwarting!

Bastard.
O plague right well preuented! so will you say,
when you haue seene the sequele.
Exit.
Original text
Act III, Scene III
Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the
watch.

Dog.
Are you good men and true?

Verg.
Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer
saluation body and soule.

Dogb.
Nay, that were a punishment too good for
them, if they should haue any allegiance in them, being
chosen for the Princes watch.

Verges.
Well, giue them their charge, neighbour
Dogbery.

Dog.
First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man
to be Constable?

Watch. 1.
Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coale,
for they can write and reade.

Dogb.
Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath
blest you with a good name: to be a wel-fauoured man,
is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes
by Nature.

Watch 2.
Both which Master Constable

Dogb.
You haue: I knew it would be your answere:
well, for your fauour sir, why giue God thankes, &
make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading,
let that appeare when there is no need of such vanity, you
are thought heere to be the most senslesse and fit man
for the Constable of the watch: therefore beare you the
lanthorne: this is your charge: You shall comprehend all
vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the
Princes name.

Watch 2.
How if a will not stand?

Dogb.
Why then take no note of him, but let him go,
and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and
thanke God you are ridde of a knaue.

Verges.
If he will not stand when he is bidden, hee is none
of the Princes subiects.

Dogb.
True, and they are to meddle with none but the
Princes subiects: you shall also make no noise in the
streetes: for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is most
tollerable, and not to be indured.

Watch.
We will rather sleepe than talke, wee
know what belongs to a Watch.

Dog.
Why you speake like an ancient and most quiet
watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend:
only haue a care that your bills be not stolne: well, you
are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are
drunke get them to bed.

Watch.
How if they will not?

Dogb.
Why then let them alone till they are sober,
if they make you not then the better answere, you may
say, they are not the men you tooke them for.

Watch.
Well sir.

Dogb.
If you meet a theefe, you may suspect him, by
vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such
kinde of men, the lesse you meddle or make with them,
why the more is for your honesty.

Watch.
If wee know him to be a thiefe, shall
wee not lay hands on him.

Dogb.
Truly by your office you may, but I think
they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable
way for you, if you doe take a theefe, is, to let him
shew himselfe what he is, and steale out of your company.

Ver.
You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful mã
partner.

Dog.
Truely I would not hang a dog by my will,
much more a man who hath anie honestie in him.

Verges.
If you heare a child crie in the night you must call
to the nurse, and bid her still it.

Watch.
How if the nurse be asleepe and will
not heare vs?

Dog.
Why then depart in peace, and let the childe
wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare her
Lambe when it baes, will neuer answere a calfe when he
bleates.

Verges.
'Tis verie true.

Dog.
This is the end of the charge: you constable
are to present the Princes owne person, if you meete the
Prince in the night, you may staie him.

Verges.
Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot.

Dog.
Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that
knowes the Statutes, he may staie him, marrie 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.
Birladie I thinke it be so.

Dog.
Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and
there be anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe
your fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night,
come neighbour.

Watch.
Well masters, we heare our charge,
let vs go sit here vpon the Church bench till two, and
then all to bed.

Dog.
One word more, honest neighbors. I pray
you watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding
being there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night,
adiew, be vigitant I beseech you.
Exeunt.
Enter Borachio and Conrade.

Bor.
What, Conrade?

Watch.
Peace, stir not.

Bor.
Conrade I say.

Con.
Here man, I am at thy elbow.

Bor.
Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there
would a scabbe follow.

Con.
I will owe thee an answere for that, and now
forward with thy tale.

Bor.
Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse,
for it drissels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard,
vtter all to thee.

Watch.
Some treason masters, yet
stand close.

Bor.
Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a
thousand Ducates.

Con.
Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare?

Bor.
Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible
anie villanie should be so rich? for when rich villains
haue neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price
they will.

Con.
I wonder at it.

Bor.
That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou
knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a
cloake, is nothing to a man.

Con.
Yes, it is apparell.

Bor.
I meane the fashion.

Con.
Yes the fashion is the fashion.

Bor.
Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but
seest thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is?

Watch.
I know that deformed, a has
bin a vile theefe, this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe
like a gentle man: I remember his name.

Bor.
Did'st thou not heare some bodie?

Con.
No, 'twas the vaine on the house.

Bor.
Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe
this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the
Hotblouds, betweene foureteene & fiue & thirtie, sometimes
fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in the
rechie painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the
old Church window, sometime like the shauen Hercules
in the smircht worm eaten tapestrie, where his cod-peece
seemes as massie as his club.

Con.
All this I see, and see that the fashion weares
out more apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe
giddie with the fashion too that thou hast shifted out
of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?

Bor.
Not so neither, but know that I haue to night
wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the
name of Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris
chamber-window, bids me a thousand times
good night: I tell this tale vildly. I should first tell thee how
the Prince Claudio and my Master planted, and
placed, and possessed by my Master Don Iohn, saw a far
off in the Orchard this amiable incounter.

Con.
And thought thy Margaret was Hero?

Bor.
Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but
the diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and partly
by his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the
darke night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my
villanie, which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn
had made, away went Claudio enraged, swore hee would
meete her as he was apointed next morning at the
Temple, and there, before the whole congregation shame
her with what he saw o're night, and send her home
againe without a husband.

Watch. 1.
We charge you in the Princes name
stand.

Watch. 2.
Call vp the right master Constable,
we haue here recouered the most dangerous peece of
lechery, that euer was knowne in the Common-wealth.

Watch. 1.
And one Deformed is one of them,
I know him, a weares a locke.

Conr.
Masters, masters.

Watch. 2.
Youle be made bring deformed
forth I warrant you,

Conr.
Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs
obey you to goe with vs.

Bor.
We are like to proue a goodly commoditie,
being taken vp of these mens bils.

Conr.
A commoditie in question I warrant you, come
weele obey you.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act III, Scene IV
Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula.

Hero.
Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire
her to rise.

Vrsu.
I will Lady.

Her.
And bid her come hither.

Vrs.
Well.

Mar.
Troth I thinke your other rebato were better.

Bero.
No pray thee good Meg, Ile weare this.

Marg.
By my troth's not so good, and I warrant
your cosin will say so.

Bero.
My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile weare
none but this.

Mar.
I like the new tire within excellently, if the
haire were a thought browner: and your gown's a most
rare fashion yfaith, I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines gowne
that they praise so.

Bero.
O that exceedes they say.

Mar.
By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of
yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd withsiluer, set
with pearles, downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round
vnderborn with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint
gracefull and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't.

Hero.
God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding
heauy.

Marga.
'Twill be heauier soone, by the waight of a man.

Hero.
Fie vpon thee, art not asham'd?

Marg.
Of what Lady? of speaking honourably? is
not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord
honourable without marriage? I thinke you would haue
me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: and bad
thinking doe not wrest true speaking, Ile offend no body,
is there any harme in the heauier for a husband? none
I thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife,
otherwise 'tis light and not heauy, aske my Lady
Beatrice else, here she comes.
Enter Beatrice.

Hero.
Good morrow Coze.

Beat.
Good morrow sweet Hero.

Hero.
Why how now? do you speake in the sick tune?

Beat.
I am out of all other tune, me thinkes.

Mar.
Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a
burden,) do you sing it and Ile dance it.

Beat.
Ye Light aloue with your heeles, then if your
husband haue stables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke no
barnes.

Mar.
O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with
my heeles.

Beat.
'Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, 'tis time you
were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho.

Mar.
For a hauke, a horse, or a husband?

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

Mar.
Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no
more sayling by the starre.

Beat.
What meanes the foole trow?

Mar.
Nothing I, but God send euery one their
harts desire.

Hero.
These gloues the Count sent mee, they are an excellent
perfume.

Beat.
I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell.

Mar.
A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching
of colde.

Beat.
O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue
you profest apprehension?

Mar.
Euer since you left it, doth not my wit
become me rarely?

Beat.
It is not seene enough, you should weare it in
your cap, by my troth I am sicke.

Mar.
Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus
and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a
qualm.

Hero.
There thou prickst her with a thissell.

Beat.
Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some
morall in this benedictus.

Mar.
Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall
meaning, I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance
that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I
am not such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I list not to
thinke what I can, nor indeed I cannot thinke, if I would
thinke my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or
that you will be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet
Benedicke was such another, and now is he become a
man, he swore hee would neuer marry, and yet now in
despight of his heart he eates his meat without grudging,
and how you may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes
you looke with your eies as other women doe.

Beat.
What pace is this that thy tongue keepes.

Mar.
Not a false gallop.
Enter Vrsula.

Vrsula.
Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, signior
Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are
come to fetch you to Church.

Hero.
Helpe to dresse mee good coze, good Meg, good
Vrsula.

Original text
Act III, Scene V
Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the
Headborough.

Leonato.
What would you with mee, honest neighbour?

Const. Dog.
Mary sir I would haue some confidence with
you, that decernes you nearely.

Leon.
Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time
with me.

Const. Dog.
Mary this it is sir.

Headb.
Yes in truth it is sir.

Leon.
What is it my good friends?

Con. Do.
Goodman Verges sir speakes a little of the
matter, an old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as
God helpe I would desire they were, but infaith honest
as the skin betweene his browes.

Head.
Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing,
that is an old man, and no honester then I.

Con. Dog.
Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour
Verges.

Leon.
Neighbours, you are tedious.

Con. Dog.
It pleases your worship to say so, but we are
the poore Dukes officers, but truely for mine owne part, if
I were as tedious as a King I could finde in my heart to
bestow it all of your worship.

Leon.
All thy tediousnesse on me, ah?

Const.Dog.
Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than
'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Worship as
of any man in the Citie, and though I bee but a poore man,
I am glad to heare it.

Head.
And so am I.

Leon.
I would faine know what you haue to say.

Head.
Marry sir our watch to night, excepting your
worships presence, haue tane a couple of as arrant knaues
as any in Messina.

Con. Dog.
A good old man sir, hee will be talking as they
say, when the age is in the wit is out, God helpe vs, it is
a world to see: well said yfaith neighbour Verges,
well, God's a good man, and two men ride of a horse, one
must ride behinde, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my
troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee worshipt,
all men are not alike, alas good neighbour.

Leon.
Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you.

Con. Do.
Gifts that God giues.

Leon.
I must leaue you.

Con. Dog.
One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede
comprehended two aspitious persons, & we would
haue them this morning examined before your worship.

Leon.
Take their examination your selfe, and bring it
me, I am now in great haste, as may appeare vnto you.

Const.
It shall be suffigance.

Leon.
Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well.

Messenger.
My Lord, they stay for you to giue your
daughter to her husband.

Leon.
Ile wait vpon them, I am ready.
Exit.

Dogb.
Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale,
bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole:
we are now to examine those men.

Verges.
And we must doe it wisely.

Dogb.
Wee will spare for no witte I warrant you: heere's
that shall driue some of them to a non-come, only get
the learned writer to set downe our excommunication,
and meet me at the Iaile.
Exeunt.
Modern text
Act III, Scene I
Enter Hero and two gentlewomen (Margaret and Ursula)

HERO
Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio.
Whisper her ear, and tell her I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say that thou overheardst us,
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun,
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.

MARGARET
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
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. Now begin;
Enter Beatrice secretively. She slips into the bower
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.

URSULA
(to Hero)
The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
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.

HERO
(to Ursula)
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.
They approach the bower
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
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;
But I persuaded them, if they loved 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 framed a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprizing 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 featured,
But she would spell him backward. If fair-faced,
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.
So turns she every man the wrong side out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

URSULA
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,
She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit!
Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly.
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

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'll 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 judgement –
Having so swift and excellent a wit
As she is prized to have – as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Signor Benedick.

HERO
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; Signor 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.
When are you married, madam?

HERO
Why, every day, tomorrow. Come, go in;
I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel
Which is the best to furnish me tomorrow.

URSULA
(to Hero)
She's limed, I warrant you; we have caught her, madam.

HERO
(to Ursula)
If it prove 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 I condemned for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
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.
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly.
Exit
Modern text
Act III, Scene II
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato

DON PEDRO
I do but stay till your marriage be consummate,
and then go I toward Arragon.

CLAUDIO
I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe
me.

DON 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 bowstring 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.

BENEDICK
Gallants, I am not as I have been.

LEONATO
So say I; methinks you are sadder.

CLAUDIO
I hope he be in love.

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
I have the toothache.

DON PEDRO
Draw it.

BENEDICK
Hang it!

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

DON PEDRO
What! Sigh for the toothache?

LEONATO
Where is but a humour or a worm.

BENEDICK
Well, everyone can master a grief but he that
has it.

CLAUDIO
Yet say I, he is in love.

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 today, a Frenchman tomorrow, or in the
shape of two countries at once, as, a German from the
waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip
upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this
foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as
you would have it appear he is.

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

DON PEDRO
Hath any man seen him at the barber's?

CLAUDIO
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, 'a rubs himself with civet; can you smell
him out by that?

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

DON PEDRO
The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

CLAUDIO
And when was he wont to wash his face?

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; conclude,
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.

DON PEDRO
She shall be buried with her face upwards.

BENEDICK
Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old
signor, walk aside with me; I have studied eight or nine
wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses
must not hear.
Exeunt Benedick and Leonato

DON PEDRO
For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.

CLAUDIO
'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this
played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears
will not bite one another when they meet.
Enter Don John

DON JOHN
My lord and brother, God save you!

DON PEDRO
Good-e'en, brother.

DON JOHN
If your leisure served, I would speak with you.

DON 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?

DON JOHN
(to Claudio)
Means your lordship to be
married tomorrow?

DON PEDRO
You know he does.

DON JOHN
I know not that, when he knows what I know.

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

DON JOHN
You may think I love you not; let that appear
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
marriage – 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.

CLAUDIO
Who, Hero?

DON PEDRO
Even she – Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every
man's Hero.

CLAUDIO
Disloyal?

DON JOHN
The word is too good to paint out her wickedness.
I could say she were worse; think you of a worse
title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further
warrant. Go but with me tonight, you shall see her
chamber-window entered, even the night before her
wedding-day. If you love her then, tomorrow wed her;
but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.

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, I will show you
enough; and when you have seen more and heard more,
proceed accordingly.

CLAUDIO
If I see any thing tonight why I should not
marry her, tomorrow in the congregation, where I
should wed, there will I shame her.

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
witness; bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the
issue show itself.

DON PEDRO
O day untowardly turned!

CLAUDIO
O mischief strangely thwarting!

DON JOHN
O plague right well prevented! So will you say
when you have seen the sequel.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene III
Enter Dogberry and his compartner 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?

FIRST WATCHMAN
Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal,
for they can write and read.

DOGBERRY
Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. 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.

SECOND WATCHMAN
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 thought 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.

SECOND WATCHMAN
How if 'a will not stand?

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.

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.

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

DOGBERRY
Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet
watchman, 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 alehouses, and bid those that are
drunk get them to bed.

SECOND WATCHMAN
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.

SECOND WATCHMAN
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 with them,
why, the more is for your honesty.

SECOND WATCHMAN
If we know him to be a thief, shall
we not lay hands on him?

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 himself what he is and steal out of your company.

VERGES
You have been always called a merciful man,
partner.

DOGBERRY
Truly, I 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.

SECOND WATCHMAN
How if the nurse be asleep and will
not hear us?

DOGBERRY
Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child
wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her
lamb when it baas will never answer a calf when he
bleats.

VERGES
'Tis very true.

DOGBERRY
This is the end of the charge: you, constable,
are to present the Prince's own person; if you meet the
Prince in the night, you may stay him.

VERGES
Nay, by'r Lady, that I think 'a cannot.

DOGBERRY
Five shillings to one on't, with any man that
knows the statutes, 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, ah 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.

FIRST WATCHMAN
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 Signor Leonato's door, for the wedding
being there tomorrow, there is a great coil tonight.
Adieu; be vigitant, I beseech you.
Exeunt Dogberry and Verges
Enter Borachio and Conrade

BORACHIO
What, Conrade!

SECOND WATCHMAN
(aside)
Peace! stir not.

BORACHIO
Conrade, I say!

CONRADE
Here, man, I am at thy elbow.

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 close then under this penthouse,
for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard,
utter all to thee.

SECOND WATCHMAN
(aside)
Some treason, masters; yet
stand close.

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

CONRADE
Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear?

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

CONRADE
I wonder at it.

BORACHIO
That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou
knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a
cloak, is nothing to a man.

CONRADE
Yes, it is apparel.

BORACHIO
I mean, the fashion.

CONRADE
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?

FIRST WATCHMAN
(aside)
I know that Deformed; 'a has
been a vile thief this seven year; 'a goes up and down
like a gentleman. I remember his name.

BORACHIO
Didst thou not hear somebody?

CONRADE
No; 'twas the vane on the house.

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, sometimes
fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the
reechy painting, sometime like god Bel's priests in the
old church-window, sometime like the shaven Hercules
in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece
seems as massy as his club?

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?

BORACHIO
Not so, neither: but know that I have tonight
wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the
name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress'
chamber-window, bids me a thousand times
good night – I tell this tale vilely – I should first tell thee how
the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted, and
placed, and possessed, by my master Don John, saw afar
off in the orchard this amiable encounter.

CONRADE
And thought they Margaret was Hero?

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
villainy, 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.

FIRST WATCHMAN
We charge you, in the Prince's name,
stand!

SECOND WATCHMAN
Call up the right Master Constable.
We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of
lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth.

FIRST WATCHMAN
And one Deformed is one of them; I
know him; 'a wears a lock.

CONRADE
Masters, masters –

SECOND WATCHMAN
You'll be made bring Deformed
forth, I warrant you.

CONRADE
Masters –

FIRST WATCHMAN
Never speak, we charge you; let us
obey you to go with us.

BORACHIO
We are like to prove a goodly commodity,
being taken up of these men's bills.

CONRADE
A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come,
we'll obey you.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene IV
Enter Hero, and Margaret, and 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

MARGARET
Troth, I think your other rebato were better.

HERO
No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.

MARGARET
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'll wear
none but this.

MARGARET
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 nightgown in respect of
yours – cloth o' gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set
with pearls, down-sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round
underborne with a bluish tinsel; but for a fine, quaint,
graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't.

HERO
God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceedingly
heavy.

MARGARET
'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a man.

HERO
Fie upon thee! Art not ashamed?

MARGARET
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 ’; and bad
thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody.
Is there any harm in ‘ the heavier for a husband ’? None,
I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife;
otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy; ask my Lady
Beatrice else, here she comes.
Enter 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'll dance it.

BEATRICE
Ye light o' love, with your heels! Then if your
husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no
barnes.

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

BEATRICE
'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; tis 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.

BEATRICE
What means the fool, trow?

MARGARET
Nothing I; but God send everyone their
heart's desire!

HERO
These gloves the Count sent me; they are an excellent
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?

MARGARET
Even since you left it. Doth not my wit
become me rarely?

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

MARGARET
Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus,
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.

MARGARET
Moral? No, by my troth, I have no moral
meaning; 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 you can be in love. Yet
Benedick was such another, and now is he become a
man; he swore he would never marry, and 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?

MARGARET
Not a false gallop.
Enter Ursula

URSULA
Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signor
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
Ursula.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene V
Enter Leonato, with the Constable, Dogberry and the
Headborough, Verges

LEONATO
What would you with me, honest neighbour?

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

LEONATO
Brief, I pray you, for you see it is a busy time
with me.

DOGBERRY
Marry, this it is, sir.

VERGES
Yes, in truth it is, sir.

LEONATO
What is it, my good friends?

DOGBERRY
Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little 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.

VERGES
Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living
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.

LEONATO
All thy tediousness on me, ah?

DOGBERRY
Yea, an't 'twere a thousand pound more than
'tis, 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 tonight, excepting your
worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves
as any in Messina.

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 world 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.

LEONATO
I must leave you.

DOGBERRY
One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed
comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would
have them this morning examined before your worship.

LEONATO
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.

LEONATO
Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well.
Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER
My lord, they stay for you to give your
daughter to her husband.

LEONATO
I'll wait upon them; I am ready.
Exeunt Leonato and Messenger

DOGBERRY
Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacoal;
bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol.
We are now to examination these 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
SHAKESPEARE'S WORDS © 2020 DAVID CRYSTAL & BEN CRYSTAL