Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, Friar Francis, and Hero
So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her Upon the error that you heard debated: But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question.
Well, daughter, and you gentle-women all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd.
The prince and Claudio promised by this hour To visit me. You know your office, brother: You must be father to your brother's daughter And give her to young Claudio.
To bind me, or undo me; one of them. Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.
The sight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio and the prince: but what's your will?
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: But, for my will, my will is your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd In the state of honourable marriage: In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, and two or three others
Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio: We here attend you. Are you yet determined To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?
Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?
I think he thinks upon the savage bull. Tush, fear not, man; we'll tip thy horns with gold And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.
Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies masked
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
All this amazement can I qualify: When after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: Meantime let wonder seem familiar, And to the chapel let us presently.
And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her; For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice.
And here's another Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick.
A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.
I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.
I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin.
I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceedingly narrowly to thee.
Come, come, we are friends: let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels.
First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.
Enter a Messenger
Think not on him till to-morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers.