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 new-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 signior, 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 den, 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 JOHN.
Even she: Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero.
CLAUDIO.
Disloyal?
DON JOHN. The word’s 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 anything 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 witnesses: 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.]
Scene 3. 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?
FIRST WATCH.
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 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 thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lanthorn. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince’s name.
SECOND WATCH.
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.
SECOND WATCH.
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