Reading Help MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, `
` These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honour, `
` The proudest of them shall well hear of it. `
` Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, `
` Nor age so eat up my invention, `
` Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, `
` Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, `
` But they shall find awak'd in such a kind `
` Both strength of limb and policy of mind, `
` Ability in means, and choice of friends, `
` To quit me of them throughly. `
` Friar. Pause awhile `
` And let my counsel sway you in this case. `
` Your daughter here the princes left for dead, `
` Let her awhile be secretly kept in, `
` And publish it that she is dead indeed; `
` Maintain a mourning ostentation, `
` And on your family's old monument `
` Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites `
` That appertain unto a burial. `
` Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do? `
` Friar. Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf `
` Change slander to remorse. That is some good. `
` But not for that dream I on this strange course, `
` But on this travail look for greater birth. `
` She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, `
` Upon the instant that she was accus'd, `
` Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd `
` Of every hearer; for it so falls out `
` That what we have we prize not to the worth `
` Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, `
` Why, then we rack the value, then we find `
` The virtue that possession would not show us `
` Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio. `
` When he shall hear she died upon his words, `
` Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep `
` Into his study of imagination, `
` And every lovely organ of her life `
` Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, `
` More moving, delicate, and full of life, `
` Into the eye and prospect of his soul `
` Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn `
` (If ever love had interest in his liver) `
` And wish he had not so accused her-- `
` No, though be thought his accusation true. `
` Let this be so, and doubt not but success `
` Will fashion the event in better shape `
` Than I can lay it down in likelihood. `
` But if all aim but this be levell'd false, `
` The supposition of the lady's death `
` Will quench the wonder of her infamy. `
` And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, `
` As best befits her wounded reputation, `
` In some reclusive and religious life, `
` Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. `
` Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you; `
` And though you know my inwardness and love `
` Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, `
` Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this `
` As secretly and justly as your soul `
` Should with your body. `
` Leon. Being that I flow in grief, `
` The smallest twine may lead me. `
` Friar. 'Tis well consented. Presently away; `
` For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. `
` Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day `
` Perhaps is but prolong'd. Have patience and endure. `
` Exeunt [all but Benedick and Beatrice]. `
` Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? `
` Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. `
` Bene. I will not desire that. `
` Beat. You have no reason. I do it freely. `
` Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. `
` Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right `
` her! `
` Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? `
` Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. `
` Bene. May a man do it? `
` Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. `
` Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not `
` that `
` strange? `
` Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible `
` for `
` me to say I loved nothing so well as you. But believe me not; `
` and `
` yet I lie not. I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am `
` sorry `
` for my cousin. `
` Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. `
` Beat. Do not swear, and eat it. `
` Bene. I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him `
` eat `
` it that says I love not you. `
` Beat. Will you not eat your word? `
` Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love `
` thee. `
` Beat. Why then, God forgive me! `
` Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? `
` Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to `
` protest I `
` loved you. `
` Bene. And do it with all thy heart. `
` Beat. I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to `
` protest. `
` Bene. Come, bid me do anything for thee. `
` Beat. Kill Claudio. `
` Bene. Ha! not for the wide world! `
` Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell. `
` Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. `
` Beat. I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. `
` Nay, I `
` pray you let me go. `
` Bene. Beatrice-- `
` Beat. In faith, I will go. `
` Bene. We'll be friends first. `
` Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine `
` enemy. `
` Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? `
` Beat. Is 'a not approved in the height a villain, that hath `
` slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a `
` man! What? bear her in hand until they come to take hands, `
` and `
` then with public accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated `
` rancour--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in `
` the `
` market place. `
` Bene. Hear me, Beatrice! `
` Beat. Talk with a man out at a window!-a proper saying! `
` Bene. Nay but Beatrice-- `
` Beat. Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is sland'red, she is `
` undone. `
` Bene. Beat-- `
` Beat. Princes and Counties! Surely a princely testimony, a `
` goodly `
` count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a `
` man `
` for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my `
` sake! But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into `
` compliment, `
` and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too. He is `
` now `
` as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie,and swears it. I `
` cannot be a man with wishing; therefore I will die a woman `
` with `
` grieving. `
` Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. `
` Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. `
` Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd `
` Hero? `
` Beat. Yea, as sure is I have a thought or a soul. `
` Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him. I will kiss `
` your `
` hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render `
` me a `
` dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort `
` your `
` cousin. I must say she is dead-and so farewell. `
` [Exeunt.] `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` Scene II. `
` A prison. `
` `
` Enter the Constables [Dogberry and Verges] and the Sexton, in `
` gowns, `
` [and the Watch, with Conrade and] Borachio. `
` `
` Dog. Is our whole dissembly appear'd? `
` Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. `
` Sex. Which be the malefactors? `
` Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner. `
` Verg. Nay, that's certain. We have the exhibition to examine. `
` Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let `
` them `
` come before Master Constable. `
` Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name, `
` friend? `
` Bor. Borachio. `
` Dog. Pray write down Borachio. Yours, sirrah? `
` Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. `
` Dog. Write down Master Gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve `
` God? `
` Both. Yea, sir, we hope. `
` Dog. Write down that they hope they serve God; and write God `
` first, `
` for God defend but God should go before such villains! `
` Masters, `
` it is proved already that you are little better than false `
` knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How `
` answer `
` you for yourselves? `
` Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. `
` Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go `
` about `
` with him. Come you hither, sirrah. A word in your ear. Sir, I `
` say `
` to you, it is thought you are false knaves. `
` Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none. `
`
` These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honour, `
` The proudest of them shall well hear of it. `
` Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, `
` Nor age so eat up my invention, `
` Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, `
` Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, `
` But they shall find awak'd in such a kind `
` Both strength of limb and policy of mind, `
` Ability in means, and choice of friends, `
` To quit me of them throughly. `
` Friar. Pause awhile `
` And let my counsel sway you in this case. `
` Your daughter here the princes left for dead, `
` Let her awhile be secretly kept in, `
` And publish it that she is dead indeed; `
` Maintain a mourning ostentation, `
` And on your family's old monument `
` Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites `
` That appertain unto a burial. `
` Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do? `
` Friar. Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf `
` Change slander to remorse. That is some good. `
` But not for that dream I on this strange course, `
` But on this travail look for greater birth. `
` She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, `
` Upon the instant that she was accus'd, `
` Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd `
` Of every hearer; for it so falls out `
` That what we have we prize not to the worth `
` Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, `
` Why, then we rack the value, then we find `
` The virtue that possession would not show us `
` Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio. `
` When he shall hear she died upon his words, `
` Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep `
` Into his study of imagination, `
` And every lovely organ of her life `
` Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, `
` More moving, delicate, and full of life, `
` Into the eye and prospect of his soul `
` Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn `
` (If ever love had interest in his liver) `
` And wish he had not so accused her-- `
` No, though be thought his accusation true. `
` Let this be so, and doubt not but success `
` Will fashion the event in better shape `
` Than I can lay it down in likelihood. `
` But if all aim but this be levell'd false, `
` The supposition of the lady's death `
` Will quench the wonder of her infamy. `
` And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, `
` As best befits her wounded reputation, `
` In some reclusive and religious life, `
` Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. `
` Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you; `
` And though you know my inwardness and love `
` Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, `
` Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this `
` As secretly and justly as your soul `
` Should with your body. `
` Leon. Being that I flow in grief, `
` The smallest twine may lead me. `
` Friar. 'Tis well consented. Presently away; `
` For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. `
` Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day `
` Perhaps is but prolong'd. Have patience and endure. `
` Exeunt [all but Benedick and Beatrice]. `
` Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? `
` Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. `
` Bene. I will not desire that. `
` Beat. You have no reason. I do it freely. `
` Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. `
` Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right `
` her! `
` Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? `
` Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. `
` Bene. May a man do it? `
` Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. `
` Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not `
` that `
` strange? `
` Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible `
` for `
` me to say I loved nothing so well as you. But believe me not; `
` and `
` yet I lie not. I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am `
` sorry `
` for my cousin. `
` Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. `
` Beat. Do not swear, and eat it. `
` Bene. I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him `
` eat `
` it that says I love not you. `
` Beat. Will you not eat your word? `
` Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love `
` thee. `
` Beat. Why then, God forgive me! `
` Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? `
` Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to `
` protest I `
` loved you. `
` Bene. And do it with all thy heart. `
` Beat. I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to `
` protest. `
` Bene. Come, bid me do anything for thee. `
` Beat. Kill Claudio. `
` Bene. Ha! not for the wide world! `
` Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell. `
` Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. `
` Beat. I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. `
` Nay, I `
` pray you let me go. `
` Bene. Beatrice-- `
` Beat. In faith, I will go. `
` Bene. We'll be friends first. `
` Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine `
` enemy. `
` Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? `
` Beat. Is 'a not approved in the height a villain, that hath `
` slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a `
` man! What? bear her in hand until they come to take hands, `
` and `
` then with public accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated `
` rancour--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in `
` the `
` market place. `
` Bene. Hear me, Beatrice! `
` Beat. Talk with a man out at a window!-a proper saying! `
` Bene. Nay but Beatrice-- `
` Beat. Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is sland'red, she is `
` undone. `
` Bene. Beat-- `
` Beat. Princes and Counties! Surely a princely testimony, a `
` goodly `
` count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a `
` man `
` for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my `
` sake! But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into `
` compliment, `
` and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too. He is `
` now `
` as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie,and swears it. I `
` cannot be a man with wishing; therefore I will die a woman `
` with `
` grieving. `
` Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. `
` Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. `
` Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd `
` Hero? `
` Beat. Yea, as sure is I have a thought or a soul. `
` Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him. I will kiss `
` your `
` hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render `
` me a `
` dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort `
` your `
` cousin. I must say she is dead-and so farewell. `
` [Exeunt.] `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` Scene II. `
` A prison. `
` `
` Enter the Constables [Dogberry and Verges] and the Sexton, in `
` gowns, `
` [and the Watch, with Conrade and] Borachio. `
` `
` Dog. Is our whole dissembly appear'd? `
` Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. `
` Sex. Which be the malefactors? `
` Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner. `
` Verg. Nay, that's certain. We have the exhibition to examine. `
` Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let `
` them `
` come before Master Constable. `
` Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name, `
` friend? `
` Bor. Borachio. `
` Dog. Pray write down Borachio. Yours, sirrah? `
` Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. `
` Dog. Write down Master Gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve `
` God? `
` Both. Yea, sir, we hope. `
` Dog. Write down that they hope they serve God; and write God `
` first, `
` for God defend but God should go before such villains! `
` Masters, `
` it is proved already that you are little better than false `
` knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How `
` answer `
` you for yourselves? `
` Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. `
` Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go `
` about `
` with him. Come you hither, sirrah. A word in your ear. Sir, I `
` say `
` to you, it is thought you are false knaves. `
` Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none. `
`