Scene 2. Another room in LEONATO’S house.
[Enter DON JOHN and BORACHIO.]
DON JOHN.
It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.
BORACHIO.
Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.
DON JOHN. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?
BORACHIO. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me.
DON JOHN.
Show me briefly how.
BORACHIO. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero.
DON JOHN.
I remember.
BORACHIO. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady’s chamber window.
DON JOHN.
What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?
BORACHIO. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio,—whose estimation do you mightily hold up,—to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.
DON JOHN.
What proof shall I make of that?
BORACHIO. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue?
DON JOHN.
Only to despite them, I will endeavour anything.
BORACHIO. Go then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone: tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as—in love of your brother’s honour, who hath made this match, and his friend’s reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid,—that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window, hear me call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio; and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding: for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero’s disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance, and all the preparation overthrown.
DON JOHN.
Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice.
Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.
BORACHIO.
Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me.
DON JOHN.
I will presently go learn their day of marriage.
[Exeunt.]
Scene 3.—LEONATO’S Garden.
[Enter Benedick.]
BENEDICK.
Boy!
[Enter a Boy.]
BOY.
Signior?
BENEDICK. In my chamber-window lies a book; bring it hither to me in the orchard.
BOY.
I am here already, sir.
BENEDICK. I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love: and such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile afoot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster; but I’ll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain; wise, or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her; fair, or I’ll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdraws.]
[Enter DON PEDRO, LEONATO, and CLAUDIO, followed by BALTHAZAR and
Musicians.]
DON PEDRO.
Come, shall we hear this music?
CLAUDIO.
Yea, my good lord.
How still the evening is,
As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony!
DON PEDRO.
See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
CLAUDIO.
O! very well, my lord: the music ended,
We’ll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.
DON PEDRO.
Come, Balthazar, we’ll hear that song again.
BALTHAZAR.
O! good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.
DON PEDRO.
It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection.
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.
BALTHAZAR.
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy; yet he wooes;
Yet will he swear he loves.
DON PEDRO.
Nay, pray thee come;
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.
BALTHAZAR.
Note this before my notes;
There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting.
DON PEDRO.
Why these are very crotchets that he speaks;
Notes, notes, forsooth, and nothing!
[Music.]
BENEDICK. Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange that sheep’s gutsshould hale souls out of men’s bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all’s done.
[Balthasar sings.]
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.