LEONATO'S Garden. |
|
Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting. |
Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. |
Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? |
Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it. |
Marg. To have no man come over me! why, shall I always keep below stairs? |
Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth; it catches. |
Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. |
Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers. |
Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own. |
Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. |
Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. |
Bene. And therefore will come. [Exit MARGARET. | The god of love, |
| That sits above, |
| And knows me, and knows me, |
| How pitiful I deserve,— |
I mean, in singing; but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self, in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rime; I have tried: I can find out no rime to 'lady' but 'baby,' an innocent rime; for 'scorn,' 'horn,' a hard rime; for 'school,' 'fool,' a babbling rime; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a riming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. |
|
Enter BEATRICE. |
Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? |
Beat. Yea, signior; and depart when you bid me. |
Bene. O, stay but till then! |
Beat. 'Then' is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. |
Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee. |
Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed. |
Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? |
Beat. For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? |
Bene. 'Suffer love,' a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will. |
Beat. In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates. |
Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. |
Beat. It appears not in this confession: there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. |
Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps. |
Beat. And how long is that think you? |
Bene. Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum: therefore it is most expedient for the wise,—if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary,—to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy. And now tell me, how doth your cousin? |
Beat. Very ill. |
Bene. And how do you? |
Beat. Very ill too. |
Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. |
|
Enter URSULA. |
Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old coil at home: it is proved, my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently? |
Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? |
Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt. |
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