Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare [e book reader free TXT] 📗

Peace! stir not. Borachio Conrade, I say! Conrade Here, man; I am at thy elbow. Borachio Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow. Conrade I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward with thy tale. Borachio Stand thee close, then, under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch Aside. Some treason, masters: yet stand close. Borachio Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. Conrade Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear? Borachio Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villainy should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. Conrade I wonder at it. Borachio That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. Conrade Yes, it is apparel. Borachio I mean, the fashion. Conrade Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Borachio Tush! I may as well say the fool’s the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? Watch Aside. I know that Deformed; a’ has been a vile thief this seven years; a’ goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. Borachio Didst thou not hear somebody? Conrade No; ’twas the vane on the house. Borachio Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily a’ turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty? sometime fashioning them like Pharaoh’s soldiers in the reechy painting, sometime like god Bel’s priests in the old church-window, sometime like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club? Conrade All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? Borachio Not so, neither: but know that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero’s gentlewoman, by the name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress’s chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night⁠—I tell this tale vilely:⁠—I should first tell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter. Conrade And thought they Margaret was Hero? Borachio Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o’er night and send her home again without a husband. First Watch We charge you, in the prince’s name, stand! Second Watch Call up the right master constable. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. First Watch And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; a’ wears a lock. Conrade Masters, masters⁠— Second Watch You’ll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Conrade Masters⁠— First Watch Never speak: we charge you let us obey you to go with us. Borachio We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men’s bills. Conrade A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we’ll obey you. Exeunt. Scene IV

Hero’s apartment.

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. Hero Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. Ursula I will, lady. Hero And bid her come hither. Ursula Well. Exit. Margaret Troth, I think your other rebato were better. Hero No, pray thee, good Meg, I’ll wear this. Margaret By my troth, ’s not so good; and I warrant your cousin will say so. Hero My cousin ’s a fool, and thou art another: I’ll wear none but this. Margaret I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that they praise so. Hero O, that exceeds, they say. Margaret By my troth, ’s but a nightgown in respect of yours: cloth o’ gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on’t. Hero God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy. Margaret ’Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. Hero Fie upon thee! art not ashamed? Margaret Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, “saving your reverence, a husband:” an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I’ll offend nobody: is there any harm in “the heavier for a husband?” None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise ’tis light, and not heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes. Enter Beatrice. Hero Good morrow, coz. Beatrice Good morrow, sweet Hero. Hero Why, how now? do you speak in the sick tune? Beatrice I am out of all other tune, methinks. Margaret Clap’s into “Light o’ love;” that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I’ll dance it. Beatrice Ye light o’ love with your heels! then, if your husband have stables enough, you’ll see he shall lack no barns. Margaret O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. Beatrice ’Tis almost five o’clock, cousin; ’tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho! Margaret For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? Beatrice For the letter that begins them all, H. Margaret Well, an you be not turned Turk, there’s no more sailing by the star. Beatrice What means