yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in
Italy.
CLAUDIO.
For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not.
DON PEDRO. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly. The old man’s daughter told us all.
CLAUDIO.
All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.
DON PEDRO.
But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on the sensible
Benedick’s head?
CLAUDIO.
Yea, and text underneath, ‘Here dwells Benedick the married man!’
BENEDICK. Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company. Your brother the bastard is fled from Messina: you have, among you, killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet; and till then, peace be with him.
[Exit.]
DON PEDRO.
He is in earnest.
CLAUDIO.
In most profound earnest; and, I’ll warrant you, for the love of
Beatrice.
DON PEDRO.
And hath challenged thee?
CLAUDIO.
Most sincerely.
DON PEDRO. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!
CLAUDIO. He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.
DON PEDRO. But, soft you; let me be: pluck up, my heart, and be sad! Did he not say my brother was fled?
[Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, with CONRADE and
BORACHIO.]
DOGBERRY. Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance. Nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.
DON PEDRO.
How now! two of my brother’s men bound! Borachio, one!
CLAUDIO.
Hearken after their offence, my lord.
DON PEDRO.
Officers, what offence have these men done?
DOGBERRY. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves.
DON PEDRO. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge?
CLAUDIO. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there’s one meaning well suited.
DON PEDRO.
Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your
answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood.
What’s your offence?
BORACHIO. Sweet prince, let me go no further to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light; who, in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments; how you disgraced her, when you should marry her. My villany they have upon record; which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.
DON PEDRO.
Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?
CLAUDIO.
I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it.
DON PEDRO.
But did my brother set thee on to this?
BORACHIO.
Yea; and paid me richly for the practice of it.
DON PEDRO.
He is compos’d and fram’d of treachery:
And fled he is upon this villany.
CLAUDIO.
Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that
I lov’d it first.
DOGBERRY. Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
VERGES.
Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.
[Re-enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, and the Sexton.]
LEONATO.
Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes,
That, when I note another man like him,
I may avoid him. Which of these is he?
BORACHIO.
If you would know your wronger, look on me.
LEONATO.
Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill’d
Mine innocent child?
BORACHIO.
Yea, even I alone.
LEONATO.
No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself:
Here stand a pair of honourable men;
A third is fled, that had a hand in it.
I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death:
Record it with your high and worthy deeds.
‘Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
CLAUDIO.
I know not how to pray your patience;
Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself;
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not
But in mistaking.
DON PEDRO.
By my soul, nor I:
And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he’ll enjoin me to.
LEONATO.
I cannot bid you bid my daughter live;
That were impossible; but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here
How innocent she died; and if your love
Can labour aught in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And sing it to her bones: sing it tonight.
Tomorrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copy of my child that’s dead,
And she alone is