LEONATO'S Garden. |
|
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: |
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, |
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. |
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 |
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. |
|
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 |
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. 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. |
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; |
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 |
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; |
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, |
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, |
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; |
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. |
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, |
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, |
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 |
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 |
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, |
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. |
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. |
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! |
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. |
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