ACT III. Scene I.

Leonato's orchard.

[Enter Hero and two Gentlewomen, Margaret and Ursula.]

Hero.
Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour.
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio.
Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursley
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her. Say that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter--like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it. There will she hide her
To listen our propose. This is thy office.
Bear thee well in it and leave us alone.

Marg.
I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.    [Exit.]

Hero.
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick.
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
My talk to thee must be how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay.

               [Enter Beatrice.]

Now begin;
For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.

           [Beatrice hides in the arbour].

Urs.
The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream
And greedily devour the treacherous bait.
So angle we for Beatrice, who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero.
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.

                                 [They approach the arbour.]

No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful.
I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock.

Urs.
But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

Hero.
So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord.

Urs.
And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?

Hero.
They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection
And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urs.
Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

Hero.
O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprizing what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly that to her
All matter else seems weak. She cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.

Urs.
Sure I think so;
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it.

Hero.
Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward. If fair-fac'd,
She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut;
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urs.
Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.

Hero.
No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit!
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly.
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

Urs.
Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say.

Hero.
No; rather I will go to Benedick
And counsel him to fight against his passion.
And truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with. One doth not know
How much an ill word may empoison liking.

Urs.
O, do not do your cousin such a wrong!
She cannot be so much without true judgment
(Having so swift and excellent a wit
As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.

Hero.
He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urs.
I pray you be not angry with me, madam,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero.
Indeed he hath an excellent good name.

Urs.
His excellence did earn it ere he had it.
When are you married, madam?

Hero.
Why, every day to-morrow! Come, go in.
I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

                                           [They walk away.]

Urs.
She's lim'd, I warrant you! We have caught her, madam.

Hero.
If it prove so, then loving goes by haps;
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

                                   [Exeunt Hero and Ursula.]

[Beatrice advances from the arbour.]

Beat.
What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band;
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly.                    [Exit.]

Hero pulls Margaret aside in the garden and gets the wheels turning on her part of Don Pedro's scheme. Hero wants Margaret to lure Beatrice to the garden by saying that Hero and Ursula are talking about her, and Beatrice should listen in on their secret conference. Hero plans to have a conversation with Ursula praising all of Benedick's virtues, and insisting that Benedick is desperately in love with Beatrice. The girls are certain this trick will win Beatrice over to the Benedick fan club. The scheme is put into action. Beatrice enters in a sneaky way, but Hero and Ursula see her just the same. They use the same metaphor the men did, about angling for a fish and getting it to take the bait. They walk a little closer to Beatrice to make sure she can hear them and then get to work, talking of the "new news" from Claudio and Don Pedro: Benedick is in love with Beatrice. Hero says that when the guys told her of Benedick's love, they asked that she tell Beatrice about it. However, Hero says she thinks it best for Benedick to keep his love to himself and get over it, because he has no chance of making it with Beatrice. Hero then lights into Beatrice's flaws, calling the girl proud, disdainful, scornful, and too in love with her own wit to love any man. Ursula agrees, saying that if Beatrice found out about Benedick's love, it would only become the source of infinite jokes for her. They go on to say that Beatrice has a knack for finding faults in even the best of men; she can never simply see the goodness in her suitors. The thing is, as horribly as Beatrice acts, no one dares to tell her. If anyone tried to, she'd rip them to shreds. That's why Hero thinks it's best to just let Benedick tire himself out pining for her. Ursula reconsiders. Maybe they should tell Beatrice. No way, says Hero. In fact, she's going to help Benedick get over Beatrice. She'll tell him some unflattering lies about Beatrice to help him get over his crush. Ursula laments what a shame it would be for Beatrice, who seems so smart, to be so stupid as to let a great catch like Benedick get away. This provides a convenient segue to rattle on about how wonderful Benedick is. Hero declares him to be the most desirable bachelor in all of Italy, aside from her Claudio of course. There's more rah-rah Benedick, and the ladies transition into talking about Hero's wedding that will happen tomorrow. The ladies, out of earshot of Beatrice, gloat over what a fine job they've done. They're sure they've caught Beatrice in the "loving Benedick" trap. Beatrice, now alone, comes out of her hiding place. It's worth noting that her primary concern isn't the shocking revelation that Benedick loves her. Instead, she seems really hurt that her friends condemned her for being so proud. Beatrice declares she'll put her bad attitude behind her, and give herself over to Benedick. If he loves her too, they'll get married, in spite of all the nasty things they've both said about marriage.

In Leonato's garden, Hero prepares to trick Beatrice into believing that Benedick loves her. With the help of her two waiting women, Margaret and Ursula, she plans to hold a conversation and let Beatrice overhear it--just as Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio have done to trick Benedick in the previous scene. Margaret lures Beatrice into the garden, and when Hero and Ursula catch sight of where she is hiding, they begin to talk in loud voices. Hero tells Ursula that Claudio and Don Pedro have informed her that Benedick is in love with Beatrice. Ursula suggests that Hero tell Beatrice about it, but Hero answers that everybody knows that Beatrice is too full of mockery to listen to any man courting her--Beatrice would merely make fun of both Hero and Benedick and break Benedick's heart with her witticisms. Therefore, she says, it will be better to let poor Benedick waste away silently from love than expose him to Beatrice's scorn. Ursula replies by disagreeing with Hero: Hero must be mistaken, because surely Beatrice is too intelligent and sensitive a woman to reject Benedick. After all, everybody knows that Benedick is one of the cleverest and handsomest men in Italy. Hero agrees, and goes off with Ursula to try on her wedding dress. After Hero and Ursula leave the garden, winking at each other because they know they have caught Beatrice, Beatrice emerges from her hiding place among the trees. Just as Benedick is shocked earlier, Beatrice cannot believe what she has heard at first. Also, like Benedick, she swiftly realizes that it would not be so difficult to "take pity" on her poor suitor and return his love. She knows how worthy Benedick really is and vows to cast off her scorn and pride in order to love him back

Act III, scenes i-ii The trick that Hero and Ursula play upon Beatrice works just as well as the one Don Pedro and Claudio play upon Benedick in the preceding scene, as Beatrice, just as Benedick does, decides to stop resisting marriage and return her supposed pursuer's love. Clearly, the friends of these two characters know them well. The conversations that Benedick and Beatrice are allowed to overhear are psychologically complicated, appealing to both the characters' compassion and their pride. Beatrice, like Benedick, cannot help but be flattered to hear that her supposed enemy is in fact dying for love of her. But her sensitive side has been targeted: she is disturbed to hear that he is in such distress, and that she herself is the cause. Moreover, it seems likely that her pride is wounded when she hears people say that she has no compassion and that she would mock a man in love instead of pitying him. Just as Benedick is moved to prove the talkers wrong, so Beatrice seems to be stirred to show that she does have compassion and a heart after all. When Hero says, "Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, / Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly. / It were a better death than die with mocks," Beatrice is motivated to "save" poor Benedick and also to show that she is not heartless enough to be as cruel as Hero seems to think she is . Of course, all of these complicated motivations in the friends' plans to dupe Beatrice and Benedick into falling in love with one another relate to the same essential cause: their friends are trying to make Beatrice and Benedick realize that each, in his or her private heart, does have the potential to love the other profoundly. The tricks could hardly work otherwise--Beatrice and Benedick both seem too mature and intelligent to be deluded into thinking that they are in love. Their friends are simply trying to make them realize that they already love each other. Beatrice's speech at the end of the scene is much shorter than Benedick's in the preceding one, but the gist of it is the same. Profoundly affected by what she has heard, she decides to allow herself to change her views about marriage in order to accept Benedick. She has learned how others perceive her--"Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?"--and has decided to change these perceptions: "Contempt, farewell; and maiden pride, adieu. / No glory lives behind the back of such" . Now, she decides she will accept Benedick if he courts her, "aming my wild heart to thy loving hand" . In the next scene, however, the atmosphere grows dark. Don Pedro and Claudio's merry teasing of the subdued Benedick amuses, but Don John's shocking accusation against Hero suddenly changes the mood from one of rejoicing to one of foreboding. We also see Don Pedro and Claudio's disturbingly quick acceptance of Don John's word about Hero's unfaithfulness--Don John has promised to show them "proof," but it still seems strange that they so quickly believe evil about Claudio's bride-to-be. Claudio earlier reveals his suspicious nature to the audience when he believes Don John's lie in Act II, scene i that Don Pedro has betrayed him. His susceptibility to suspicion now returns to haunt him, this time with the support and encouragement of Don Pedro.


Scene II.

A room in Leonato's house.

[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.]

Pedro.
I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I
toward Arragon.

Claud.
I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.

Pedro.
Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your
marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear
it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for,
from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all
mirth.  He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the
little hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as
a bell; and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks,
his tongue speaks.

Bene.
Gallants, I am not as I have been.

Leon.
So say I. Methinks you are sadder.

Claud.
I hope he be in love.

Pedro.
Hang him, truant! There's no true drop of blood in him to be
truly touch'd with love. If he be sad, he wants money.

Bene.
I have the toothache.

Pedro.
Draw it.

Bene.
Hang it!

Claud.
You must hang it first and draw it afterwards.

Pedro.
What? sigh for the toothache?

Leon.
Where is but a humour or a worm.

Bene.
Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.

Claud.
Yet say I he is in love.

Pedro.
There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that
he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a
Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as
a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from
the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this
foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you
would have it appear he is.

Claud.
If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old
signs. 'A brushes his hat o' mornings. What should that bode?

Pedro.
Hath any man seen him at the barber's?

Claud.
No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old
ornament of his cheek hath already stuff'd tennis balls.

Leon.
Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.

Pedro.
Nay, 'a rubs himself with civet. Can you smell him out by that?

Claud.
That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love.

Pedro.
The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

Claud.
And when was he wont to wash his face?

Pedro.
Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say of
him.

Claud.
Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is new-crept into a
lutestring, and now govern'd by stops.

Pedro.
Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude, he is
in love.

Claud.
Nay, but I know who loves him.

Pedro.
That would I know too. I warrant, one that knows him not.

Claud.
Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despite of all, dies for him.

Pedro.
She shall be buried with her face upwards.

Bene.
Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old signior, walk aside
with me. I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you,
which these hobby-horses must not hear.

                              [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.]

Pedro.
For my life, to break with him about Beatrice!

Claud.
'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts
with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another
when they meet.

             [Enter John the Bastard.]

John.
My lord and brother, God save you.

Pedro.
Good den, brother.

John.
If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you.

Pedro.
In private?

John.
If it please you. Yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would
speak of concerns him.

Pedro.
What's the matter?

John.
[to Claudio] Means your lordship to be married tomorrow?

Pedro.
You know he does.

John.
I know not that, when he knows what I know.

Claud.
If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.

John.
You may think I love you not. Let that appear hereafter, and aim
better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think
he holds you well and in dearness of heart hath help to effect
your ensuing marriage--surely suit ill spent and labour ill
bestowed!

Pedro.
Why, what's the matter?

John.
I came hither to tell you, and, circumstances short'ned (for she
has been too long a-talking of), the lady is disloyal.

Claud.
Who? Hero?

John.
Even she--Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.

Claud.
Disloyal?

John.
The word is too good to paint out her wickedness. I could say she
were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it.
Wonder not till further warrant. Go but with me to-night, you
shall see her chamber window ent'red, even the night before her
wedding day. If you love her then, to-morrow wed her. But it
would better fit your honour to change your mind.

Claud.
May this be so?

Pedro.
I will not think it.

John.
If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know. If
you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have
seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly.

Claud.
If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow,
in the congregation where I should wed, there will I shame her.

Pedro.
And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to
disgrace her.

John.
I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses.  Bear
it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself.

Pedro.
O day untowardly turned!

Claud.
O mischief strangely thwarting!

John.
O plague right well prevented!   So will you say when you have
seen the Sequel.

                                                    [Exeunt.]

In another part of Leonato's house, Prince Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato are all gathered. Don Pedro says he's only sticking around until Claudio is married, and then he's off back to Arragon. Claudio volunteers to come with him, but Don Pedro points out that Claudio will have more interesting things to do on his wedding night. Instead of Claudio, Prince Don Pedro looks forward to Benedick's company. He then makes some heavy-handed references to the fact that Benedick can be trusted to never fall in love. This would seem like a random thing to say, except we know Don Pedro's trying to egg Benedick on. Benedick says, "Actually, guys, I'm going through some special chan-ges." And knowing what we know about special changes, they're a perfect invitation for mockery and derision. While Claudio and Don Pedro tease Benedick mercilessly for seeming lovesick, Leonato notes that he looks sadder. They offer all sorts of cures for his ache. Then they note that he's gotten a haircut, is wearing cologne, and his beard has been shaven off and the hairs sent to fill tennis balls. Anyway, with all these changes, it looks like Benedick is totally in love. They tease that his melancholy and newly subdued nature are sure signs of his sighs over a girl, and they figure that if any woman loves him, it's only because she doesn't know him very well. Then there's some taunting about how the girl Benedick loves will die for him, but she'll die with her face upward. . Benedick shrugs off all this teasing and asks Leonato to go off with him to talk about serious stuff. Don Pedro and Claudio are then conveniently left alone for Don John to prey upon. Don John confirms that Claudio means to get married the next day, and then he's like, "Well maybe you won't want to get married tomorrow after you fall into my evil trap." But he doesn't say that because then it wouldn't be much of a trap, would it? Anyway, Don John builds the melodrama by saying they might hate him for what he has to say, but they should wait until after hearing his news to pass judgment on him. Don John claims that Don Pedro's efforts for Claudio's wedding were sadly misguided: Hero is disloyal. He says he could call her all sorts of other nasty names, but he doesn't. Instead, he'll let the seed of suspicion sprout in Don Pedro and Claudio until he can bring them to Hero's window at midnight. There, he promises them they'll see a man in Hero's bedroom. After that, if Claudio still wants to marry, he can, but at least he'll know what he's signing up for. Claudio pledges that if he sees anything unseemly tonight, he'll be sure to be as dramatic as possible, by denouncing Hero in front of the whole wedding party tomorrow. Because that's adult. Don Pedro pitches in that he'll help Claudio disgrace Hero at the wedding if there's proof of her disloyalty tonight. After all, he's responsible for getting the two of them together in the first place.

Elsewhere, Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato begin to tease Benedick about his decision never to marry. Benedick announces that he has changed, and the others agree; they have noticed that he is much quieter. They say that he must be in love and tease him about it. But Benedick is too subdued even to answer their jokes. He takes Leonato aside to speak with him. As soon as Claudio and Don Pedro are left alone, Don John approaches them. He tells them that he is trying to protect Don Pedro's reputation and save Claudio from a bad marriage. Hero is a whore, he says, and Claudio should not marry her. The two are shocked, of course, but Don John immediately offers them proof: he tells them to come with him that night to watch outside Hero's window where they will see her making love to somebody else. Claudio, already suspicious and paranoid, resolves that if what he sees tonight does indeed prove Hero's unfaithfulness, he will disgrace her publicly during the wedding ceremony the next day, and Don Pedro vows to assist him. Confused, suspicious, and full of dark thoughts, Claudio and Don Pedro leave with Don John


Scene III.

A street.

[Enter Dogberry and his compartner [Verges], with the Watch.]

Dog.
Are you good men and true?

Verg.
Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body
and soul.

Dog.
Nay, that were a punishment too good for them if they should have
any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch.

Verg.
Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.

Dog.
First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable?

1. Watch.
Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for they can write and
read.

Dog.
Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. God hath bless'd you with a good
name. To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but to
write and read comes by nature.

2. Watch.
Both which, Master Constable--

Dog.
You have. I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour,
sir, why, give God thanks and make no boast of it; and for your
writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of
such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and
fit man for the constable of the watch.  Therefore bear you the
lanthorn. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom
men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's name.

2. Watch.
How if 'a will not stand?

Dog.
Why then, take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call
the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a
knave.

Verg.
If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the
Prince's subjects.

Dog.
True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's subjects.
You shall also make no noise in the streets; for the watch to
babble and to talk is most tolerable, and not to be     endured.

2. Watch.
We will rather sleep than talk. We know what belongs to a watch.

Dog.
Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I
cannot see how sleeping should offend. Only have a care that your
bills be not stol'n. Well, you are to call at all the
alehouses and bid those that are drunk get them to bed.

2. Watch.
How if they will not?

Dog.
Why then, let them alone till they are sober. If they make you
not then the better answer, You may say they are not the men you
took them for.

2. Watch.
Well, sir.

Dog.
If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your
office, to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you
meddle or make with them, why, the more your honesty.

2. Watch.
If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?

Dog.
Truly, by your office you may; but I think they that touch pitch
will be defil'd. The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a
thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and
steal out of your company.

Verg.
You have been always called a merciful man, partner.

Dog.
Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who
hath any honesty in him.

Verg.
If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse
and bid her still it.

2. Watch.
How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?

Dog.
Why then, depart in peace and let the child wake her with crying;
for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never
answer a calf when he bleats.

Verg.
'Tis very true.

Dog.
This is the end of the charge: you, constable, are to present the
Prince's own person. If you meet the Prince in the night, you may
stay him.

Verg.
Nay, by'r lady, that I think 'a cannot.

Dog.
Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the statutes,
he may stay him! Marry, not without the Prince be willing; for
indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is
an offence to stay a man against his will.

Verg.
By'r lady, I think it be so.

Dog.
Ha, ah, ha! Well, masters, good night. An there be any matter of
weight chances, call up me. Keep your fellows' counsels and your
own, and good night. Come, neighbour.

2. Watch.
Well, masters, we hear our charge. Let us go sit here upon the
church bench till two, and then all to bed.

Dog.
One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch about Signior
Leonato's door; for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a
great coil to-night. Adieu. Be vigitant, I beseech you.

               [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.]

                 [Enter Borachio and Conrade.]

Bora.
What, Conrade!

2. Watch.
[aside] Peace! stir not!

Bora.
Conrade, I say!

Con.
Here, man. I am at thy elbow.

Bora.
Mass, and my elbow itch'd! I thought there would a scab follow.

Con.
I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy
tale.

Bora.
Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain,
and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.

2. Watch.
[aside] Some treason, masters. Yet stand close.

Bora.
Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats.

Con.
Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?

Bora.
Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany should
be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor
ones may make what price they will.

Con.
I wonder at it.

Bora.
That shows thou art unconfirm'd. Thou knowest that the fashion of
a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man.

Con.
Yes, it is apparel.

Bora.
I mean the fashion.

Con.
Yes, the fashion is the fashion.

Bora.
Tush! I may as well say the fool's the fool. But seest thou not
what a deformed thief this fashion is?

2. Watch.
[aside] I know that Deformed. 'A bas been a vile thief this seven
year; 'a goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember his name.

Bora.
Didst thou not hear somebody?

Con.
No; 'twas the vane on the house.

Bora.
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? sometimes 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 smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as
massy as his club?

Con.
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?

Bora.
Not so neither. But know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the
Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero. She leans me out at
her mistress' 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.

Con.
And thought they Margaret was Hero?

Bora.
Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master
knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first
possess'd them, partly by the dark night, which did
deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any
slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enrag'd; 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'ernight and send her home again without a husband.

2. Watch.
We charge you in the Prince's name stand!

1. Watch.
Call up the right Master Constable. We have here recover'd the
most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the
commonwealth.

2. Watch.
And one Deformed is one of them. I know him; 'a wears a lock.

Con.
Masters, masters--

1. Watch.
You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.

Con.
Masters--

2. Watch.
Never speak, we charge you. Let us obey you to go with us.

Bora.
We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these
men's bills.

Con.
A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you.

                                                     [Exeunt.]

Dogberry, a constable with an awesome name, is selecting a few new men to help stand watch over Messina. Dogberry may not be the most qualified person to perform this task. His vocabulary is questionable, as is his understanding of...well, lots of things. He asks the First Watchman to recommend some men for the watch, and the First Watchman suggests two guys who can read and write. Dogberry tells one of the reader-writers that he's lucky he's good looking. That's more important than being able to read and write, but reading and writing may come in handy when he can't get by on your looks. He puts this guy, Hugh Oatcake in charge of the watch. Next he tell them the watch should look out for vagrants and stop them in the name of the Prince. Dogberry goes on to give a series of nonsensical instructions to the watch: if a man doesn't stop, he should be let go to do as he pleases, because any man who doesn't stop isn't one of the Prince's subjects and therefore is not under the jurisdiction of the watch. Further, the watch should be grateful to be saved the trouble of dealing with vagrants. In fact, Dogberry essentially gives the men permission to sleep through their shift, but advises that they make sure they aren't robbed while they're dozing. More of Dogberry's ridiculous instructions include: drunken men should be reprimanded, unless they're too drunk, in which case they should be left alone to sober up. Thieves should be avoided, because getting involved with them would compromise one's honesty. The men on watch should wake up nurses whose babies are crying. If the nurses do not wake up at the watch's calls, the babies' cries are sure to wake their nurses up eventually. Dogberry goes on in this vein, with Verges throwing in some supportive comments. Whenever they open their mouths, the two men generally reveal that Messina is very lucky to be a quiet town, because their watch is completely incompetent to handle any real crime or disturbance. The watch doesn't need to do much, except be careful that their swords don't get stolen. Before Dogberry leaves, he tells the men on watch to carefully observe Leonato's door. With the wedding coming tomorrow, there's likely to be a big to-do tonight. Lastly, he tells them to "Be vigitant!" . Dogberry and Verges exit. The watch's plan to settle into a peaceful sleep is interrupted by the entrance of Borachio and Conrade, Don John's two partners-in-crime. Borachio and Conrade haven't noticed the watchmen, though the watch has noticed them. The incompetent men on watch listen carefully for signs of treason. Borachio updates Conrade on the night's events, sparing no little detail, and announcing that he's earned his 1.000 ducats from Don John. Conrade wonders how Borachio's villainous assistance could come with such a high price tag. Borachio points out that when a rich villain needs a poor villain's help, the poor villain can name any price. Borachio compares his robbery to the robbery that fashion commits--fashion has a habit of making men change their minds too often. Conrade chimes in that fashion is indeed a robber, as men will throw out their apparel because it's no longer in style even before the clothing has been worn out. Conrade notes that Borachio must be stricken by the fashion sickness too, as it's distracted him from the point of his story: how he brought about the ruination of Hero this very night. Borachio describes how his plan went off without a hitch: Margaret leaned out of Hero's window and bid him a thousand goodnights . Anyway, Borachio replied to Margaret's goodnights, but he called her "Hero." Meanwhile, Don John was stationed with Don Pedro and Claudio in an orchard, close enough to hear what was going on, but not close enough to see that the woman was Margaret, not Hero. Borachio confirms that Don Pedro and Claudio were fully convinced of Hero's disloyalty, and didn't suspect that the scene was a villainous plot masterminded by Don John. Borachio makes the insightful point that the scheme had many layers, like an onion, or a layer cake. Claudio and Don Pedro were first inspired to distrust Hero by Don John's claim of her disloyalty. Because they were primed to think of her as disloyal, Borachio's villainy, combined with the dark night, cemented Claudio and Don Pedro's suspicions. Claudio became enraged after "witnessing" Hero's disloyalty, and he vowed to reveal Hero's love affair in front the whole congregation tomorrow at their would-be-wedding. He's determined to send her home without a husband . There will be no marriage, but everyone will get their money's worth in the spectacle. The watchmen, who have been listening this whole time, finally step out and seize Borachio and Conrade, calling them out for lechery . The disease of poor grammar and word usage is apparently contagious; the watch suffer from it nearly as badly as Dogberry. Borachio and Conrade surrender, but we've still got some unraveling to do before things get really good.

In a street outside Leonato's house, the town policemen of Messina--collectively called the Watch--gather together to discuss their duties for the night. Dogberry, the head constable, and Verges, his deputy, command and govern them. Dogberry and Verges are well intentioned and take their jobs very seriously, but they are also ridiculous. Dogberry is a master of malapropisms, always getting his words just slightly wrong. Under Dogberry, the Watch is very polite but not very effective at deterring crime. As Dogberry gives his orders to his men, it becomes clear that the Watch is charged with doing very little. For example, when asked how the men should react should someone refuse to stand in Don Pedro's name, Dogberry replies, "Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave" . Furthermore, the Watch is supposed to order drunkards to go home and sleep their drunkenness off--unless the drunkards won't listen, in which case the men are to ignore them. The men are not to make too much noise in the street--they may sleep instead. They shouldn't catch thieves, because it isn't good for honest men to have too much to do with dishonest ones, and they should wake up the nurses of crying children--unless the nurses ignore them, in which case they should let the child wake the nurse by crying instead. In short, they may do anything they want and don't have to do anything at all, as long as they are careful not to let the townspeople steal their spears. Dogberry gives his men a final order: act particularly vigilant near the house of Leonato, for Leonato's daughter, Hero, is to be married the next day, and the house is filled with commotion and chaos. After Dogberry and Verges depart, the men they have left behind sit down quietly on a bench and prepare to go to sleep. Suddenly, the watchmen are interrupted by the entrance of Don John's associates, Borachio and Conrad. Borachio, who does not see the watchmen, informs Conrad about what has happened this night. Acting on the plan he developed with Don John, Borachio made love to Margaret, Hero's waiting maid, at the window of Hero's room, with Margaret dressed in Hero's clothing. Don Pedro and Claudio, who were hiding nearby with Don John, saw the whole thing and are now convinced that Hero has been disloyal to Claudio. Claudio, feeling heartbroken and betrayed, has vowed to take revenge upon Hero by publicly humiliating her at the wedding ceremony the next day. The watchmen, who have quietly listened to this whole secretive exchange, now reveal themselves and arrest Borachio and Conrade for "lechery," by which they mean treachery. They haul them away to Dogberry and Verges for questioning.

Analysis  Dogberry and Verges provide welcome comic relief amid Don John's evil plotting. Their brand of humor is completely different from that provided by Benedick and Beatrice; while the two witty antagonists spar with a brilliant display of wit, Dogberry and Verges get half their words wrong, providing humor with their ignorance. Yet, like Benedick and Beatrice, they are in their own way good-hearted and sincere, and the humor of both duos, sophisticated and unsophisticated, hinges on punning and verbal display. Borachio's account of the events of that night inform us that Don John's plans have been put into action and that everything is working out as he intended. Once again, however, we are faced with a disturbing element in this action: Claudio and Don Pedro both believe Don John's claims and are willing to believe that they are watching Hero without investigating the matter more closely or interrogating Hero herself about it. When we see how ready Claudio is to believe that the woman he supposedly is in love with is betraying him, we are likely to be deeply troubled about him, even though we know that the play--being a comedy--has to end happily. Borachio lists a few factors that might make the deception of Claudio and Don Pedro more understandable. He suggests that we should blame Don John's "oaths," which first made Don Pedro and Claudio suspicious of Hero's guilt; the "dark night, which did deceive them" ; and Borachio's own flat-out lies when he testified to them that he had made love to Hero. Some critics focus on the fact that Claudio is quite young and that he does not really know Hero very well as mitigating his distrust of her. Indeed, he seems hardly to have spoken any words to her before they become engaged, although presumably they have conversed more in the week that has passed since their betrothal. Nevertheless, Claudio's swift anger and the terrible revenge he has vowed to take--shaming Hero in public and abandoning her at the altar--has remained troubling to generations of critics and readers, as has Don Pedro's complicity in this desired revenge. Don Pedro, after all, does not have the excuse of youth and inexperience. The brutality of the principal male characters remains a problem with which readers of Much Ado About Nothing must grapple. It is difficult to feel sympathy for Claudio and Don Pedro after seeing how quickly they believe evil of Hero--and after what they do to her in Act IV, scene i, on the day of the wedding itself.


Scene IV.

A Room in Leonato's house.

[Enter Hero, and Margaret and Ursula.]

Hero.
Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and desire her to rise.

Urs.
I will, lady.

Hero.
And bid her come hither.

Urs.
Well.                                             [Exit.]

Marg.
Troth, I think your other rebato were better.

Hero.
No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.

Marg.
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.

Marg.
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.

Marg.
By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect of
yours--cloth-o'-gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with
pearls down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne
with a blush 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.

Marg.
'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.

Hero.
Fie upon thee! art not ashamed?

Marg.
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.

Beat.
Good morrow, sweet Hero.

Hero.
Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?

Beat.
I am out of all other tune, methinks.

Marg.
Clap's into 'Light o' love.' That goes without a burden.  Do you
sing it, and I'll dance it.

Beat.
Yea, 'Light o' love' with your heels! then, if your husband have
stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barnes.

Marg.
O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.

Beat.
'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready.
By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Hey-ho!

Marg.
For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?

Beat.
For the letter that begins them all, H.

Marg.
Well, an you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by the
star.

Beat.
What means the fool, trow?

Marg.
Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!

Hero.
These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume.

Beat.
I am stuff'd, cousin; I cannot smell.

Marg.
A maid, and stuff'd! There's goodly catching of cold.

Beat.
O, God help me! God help me! How long have you profess'd
apprehension?

Marg.
Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?

Beat.
It is not seen enough. You should wear it in your cap. By my
troth, I am sick.

Marg.
Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus and lay it to
your heart. It is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero.
There thou prick'st her with a thistle.

Beat.
Benedictus? why benedictus? You have some moral in this
'benedictus.'

Marg.
Moral? No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant plain
holy thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in
love. Nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list;
nor I list not to think what I can; nor indeed I cannot think, if
I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or
that you will be in love, or that you can be in
love.  Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man.
He swore he would never marry; and yet now in despite of his
heart he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be
converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as
other women do.

Beat.
What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?

Marg.
Not a false gallop.

                     [Enter Ursula.]

Urs.
Madam, withdraw. The Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don
John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to
church.

Hero.
Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.

                                                   [Exeunt.]

It's the morning of the wedding, and the scene is set in Hero's bedroom. Hero has sent Ursula off to go get Beatrice, and Margaret is helping Hero get dressed. They go back and forth fondly over what Hero should wear. Margaret describes the beautiful dress Hero will wear as full of gold, silver, and pearls, but Hero seems uncomfortable. Hero hopes the dress will bring her joy, because she says her heart is heavy. Instead of noting that Hero is clearly unhappy and has a weird feeling, Margaret makes a joke about the fact that soon, Hero's chest will be heavy under the weight of a husband. Hey-o! These people and their cheap sex jokes. Beatrice enters and, as usual, becomes the focus of attention. She says she doesn't feel well. When she sighs, Margaret asks her if she's sighing for a hawk, a horse, or a husband. She's hinting at Beatrice's new found love for Benedick, but Beatrice won't bite. She says she's sighing because of an "H," a pun on "ache." At one point Beatrice says she's stuffed, as in congested, but Margaret turns it into a dirty joke, and says, "Stuffed? That's quite a way for a young, unmarried woman to catch a cold!" Beatrice wonders when Margaret became so witty, but the last straw is when Margaret suggests Beatrice could be cured of her ailment by some holy thistle that just happens to be named carduus benedictus. Her hints are getting pretty obvious. Beatrice flips out. In response to Beatrice's tizzy, Margaret says she didn't mean anything special by using the name carduus benedictus. She just meant regular old thistle. And of course, she doesn't think Beatrice is in love. That would be ridiculous. Although... Benedick used to share Beatrice's views on the absurdity of love, but he's obviously all-in now. Margaret finishes by saying that she doesn't know how it happened, but it seems to her that Beatrice's views on love have changed, too. She suddenly seems to be looking at love the way other women do. Beatrice demands to know what Margaret is talking about, but she gets interrupted by Ursula, who informs them that everyone is ready to take Hero to the church--where she will be married.

On the morning of her wedding to Claudio, Hero wakes up early and tells her servant Ursula to wake Beatrice. Meanwhile, Hero's maid Margaret argues affectionately with Hero about what she ought to wear for her wedding. Hero is excited, but she is also uneasy for reasons she cannot name; she has a strange foreboding of disaster. Beatrice arrives, and Margaret, in high spirits, teases her about her changed personality, saying that now Beatrice too desires a husband. Beatrice expresses annoyance, but Margaret is sure that she is right, and so she continues to tease Beatrice about Benedick--but in a manner subtle enough that Beatrice cannot accuse Margaret of knowing anything completely. Soon enough, Claudio arrives with his friends, accompanied by the large wedding party, apparently ready to take Hero to the church. They all set off together

Act III, scenes iv-v The scene in Hero's bedchamber, as Hero prepares for her wedding day, provides an example of some of Much Ado About Nothing's strongest features: the scene combines nonstop jokes with a sense of affection. It means a great deal to Hero to have her cousin and her beloved maids with her on her wedding morning, even amid all the raunchy joking surrounding Hero's impending marriage--for instance, Margaret's statement that Hero's heart will "be heavier soon by the weight of a man" . Hero's unexpected sense of foreboding sets off warning bells in the minds of the audience. Hero asks God to "give me joy to wear , for my heart is exceeding heavy" . There is no clear reason for her to feel this way, except perhaps that she must sadly bid her innocent childhood adieu; we interpret her heaviness of heart as a foreshadowing of something bad to come. Margaret, in high spirits after a night with Borachio, shows remarkable wit in this scene, jesting about Beatrice's conversion to the ways of love. When Beatrice, far more subdued then usual, says that she feels sick, Margaret teasingly offers her a cure--distillation of carduus benedictus, or "holy thistle," a plant thought to have medicinal powers in the Renaissance. Beatrice, of course, quite rightly thinks that Margaret is trying to make a point--"Why Benedictus?" she cries. "You have some moral in this Benedictus" . Margaret gaily avoids saying concretely what she means, but the gist of the joke is clear: Beatrice is sick with love, and only benedictus--that is, Benedick--can cure her. This scene juxtaposes Margaret's dirty punning and overt sexuality with Hero's fearful innocence and utter ignorance of all things carnal. We thus learn how different Hero is from Margaret, and how wrong Claudio is to doubt Hero and mistake Margaret for his untainted beloved. Act III, scene v, in which Dogberry and Verges try to speak with Leonato outside the church, heightens the tension and our anticipation of an approaching disaster. The two constables entertain us with their foibles as always. In this conversation, Dogberry actually starts pitying Verges and making excuses for his friend's supposed foolishness, although Dogberry himself, as usual, gets many of his words wrong. He calls Verges "an old man," and says, "his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire they were"; he means, of course, "sharp" instead of "blunt" . To Verges's response, saying he thinks that he is honest, Dogberry makes the oft-quoted reply, "Comparisons are odorous" . He means to quote the proverb "comparisons are odious." The men that the two constables have caught, of course, are Conrad and Borachio--and Borachio is the one who has helped Don John deceive Claudio and Don Pedro the night before. But because Dogberry and Verges are such poor communicators, they are unable to convey to Leonato how important it is that he hear Borachio's testimony;because they are so foolish, they do not seem to realize how important it is themselves. Thus, Leonato enters the church, and Dogberry and Verges go off without Don John's scheme having been exposed.


Scene V.

The hall in Leonato's house.

[Enter Leonato and the Constable [Dogberry] and the
Headborough[verges.]

Leon.
What would you with me, honest neighbour?

Dog.
Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns
you nearly.

Leon.
Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me.

Dog.
Marry, this it is, sir.

Verg.
Yes, in truth it is, sir.

Leon.
What is it, my good friends?

Dog.
Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter--an old man,
sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire
they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his
brows.

Verg.
Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old
man and no honester than I.

Dog.
Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbour Verges.

Leon.
Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dog.
It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's
officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a
king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your
worship.

Leon.
All thy tediousness on me, ah?

Dog.
Yea, in 'twere a thousand pound more than 'tis; for I hear as
good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and
though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.

Verg.
And so am I.

Leon.
I would fain know what you have to say.

Verg.
Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's
presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in
Messina.

Dog.
A good old man, sir; he will be talking. As they say, 'When the
age is in, the wit is out.' God help us! it is a world to see!
Well said, i' faith, neighbour Verges. Well, God's a
good man. An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An
honest soul, i' faith, sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke
bread; but God is to be worshipp'd; all men are not alike, alas,
good neighbour!

Leon.
Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.

Dog.
Gifts that God gives.

Leon.
I must leave you.

Dog.
One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two
aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined
before your worship.

Leon.
Take their examination yourself and bring it me. I am now in
great haste, as it may appear unto you.

Dog.
It shall be suffigance.

Leon.
Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well.

                  [Enter a Messenger.]

Mess.
My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband.

Leon.
I'll wait upon them. I am ready.

                             [Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.]

Dog.
Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoal; bid him bring
his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to examination these
men.

Verg.
And we must do it wisely.

Dog.
We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. Here's that shall drive
some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to set
down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail.

                                                   [Exeunt.]

Dogberry and Verges arrive at the door of Leonato's house to tell him something very important. Leonato says he's busy, but asks them what's up. Dogberry and Verges spend some time talking about how honest they both are, and Leonato tells them they are tedious. Dogberry thanks him, thinking that was a compliment, and says that even if he were as tedious as a king , he'd be happy to give all of his tediousness to Leonato. "Gee, thanks," says Leonato. "Now what do you want?" Dogberry and Verges finally get to the point. Sort of. They say they've captured two knaves, and they'd like to examine these men in Leonato's presence. Unfortunately, this simple message is really poorly delivered, and Dogberry and Verges manage to totally obscure their meaning. Leonato is kind of occupied trying to get his daughter married, and he tells Dogberry and Verges to do the examination themselves, and report back to him on the outcome. A messenger arrives to tell Leonato it's time for him to give his daughter away, and they leave together. Dogberry tells Verges to get Francis Seacoal to meet them at the station. Seacoal is one of those fancypants guys who can read and write, so they'll have him transcribe the interrogation . This should be good.

Just as Leonato prepares to enter the church for his daughter's wedding, Dogberry and Verges catch up with Leonato and try to talk to him. They explain that they have caught two criminals and want to interrogate them in front of him. However, their attempts to communicate their message are so long-winded, foolish, and generally mixed up that they fail to convey how urgent the matter is--and, in fact, they may not understand its importance themselves. Leonato defers their business, explaining that he is busy this day, and orders Dogberry and Verges to question the men themselves and tell him about it later. Dogberry and Verges head off to question the prisoners on their own, and Leonato enters the church in order to participate in the wedding ceremony about to take place


ACT IV. Scene I.

A church.

[Enter Don Pedro, [John the] Bastard, Leonato, Friar [Francis],
Claudio, Benedick, Hero, Beatrice, [and Attendants.]

Leon.
Come, Friar Francis, be brief. Only to the plain form of
marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties
afterwards.

Friar.
You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?

Claud.
No.

Leon.
To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her.

Friar.
Lady, you come hither to be married to this count?

Hero.
I do.

Friar.
If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be
conjoined, I charge you on your souls to utter it.

Claud.
Know you any, Hero?

Hero.
None, my lord.

Friar.
Know you any, Count?

Leon.
I dare make his answer--none.

Claud.
O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not
knowing what they do!

Bene.
How now? interjections? Why then, some be of laughing, as, ah,
ha, he!

Claud.
Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave:
Will you with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid your daughter?

Leon.
As freely, son, as God did give her me.

Claud.
And what have I to give you back whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?

Pedro.
Nothing, unless you render her again.

Claud.
Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.
There, Leonato, take her back again.
Give not this rotten orange to your friend.
She's but the sign and semblance of her honour.
Behold how like a maid she blushes here!
O, what authority and show of truth
Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood as modest evidence
To witness simple virtue, Would you not swear,
All you that see her, that she were a maid
By these exterior shows? But she is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.

Leon.
What do you mean, my lord?

Claud.
Not to be married,
Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.

Leon.
Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,
Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth
And made defeat of her virginity--

Claud.
I know what you would say. If I have known her,
You will say she did embrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the forehand sin.
No, Leonato,
I never tempted her with word too large,
But, as a brother to his sister, show'd
Bashful sincerity and comely love.

Hero.
And seem'd I ever otherwise to you?

Claud.
Out on the seeming! I will write against it.
You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pamp'red animals
That rage in savage sensuality.

Hero.
Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide?

Leon.
Sweet Prince, why speak not you?

Pedro.
What should I speak?
I stand dishonour'd that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common stale.

Leon.
Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?

John.
Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.

Bene.
This looks not like a nuptial.

Hero.
'True!' O God!

Claud.
Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the Prince, Is this the Prince's brother?
Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own?

Leon.
All this is so; but what of this, my lord?

Claud.
Let me but move one question to your daughter,
And by that fatherly and kindly power
That you have in her, bid her answer truly.

Leon.
I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.

Hero.
O, God defend me! How am I beset!
What kind of catechising call you this?

Claud.
To make you answer truly to your name.

Hero.
Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
With any just reproach?

Claud.
Marry, that can Hero!
 Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.
What man was he talk'd with you yesternight,
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.

Hero.
I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord.

Pedro.
Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear. Upon my honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved Count
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window,
Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.

John.
Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my lord--
Not to be spoke of;
There is not chastity, enough in language
Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

Claud.
O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been
If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! Farewell,
Thou pure impiety and impious purity!
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.

Leon.
Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?

                                              [Hero swoons.]

Beat.
Why, how now, cousin? Wherefore sink you down?

John.
Come let us go. These things, come thus to light,
Smother her spirits up.

                  [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don Juan, and Claudio.]

Bene.
How doth the lady?

Beat.
Dead, I think. Help, uncle!
Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!

Leon.
O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand!
Death is the fairest cover for her shame
That may be wish'd for.

Beat.
How now, cousin Hero?

Friar.
Have comfort, lady.

Leon.
Dost thou look up?

Friar.
Yea, wherefore should she not?

Leon.
Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes;
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
Myself would on the rearward of reproaches
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Child I for that at frugal nature's frame?
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates,
Who smirched thus and mir'd with infamy,
I might have said, 'No part of it is mine;
This shame derives itself from unknown loins'?
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on--mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her--why, she, O, she is fall'n
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And salt too little which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!

Bene.
Sir, sir, be patient.
For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to say.

Beat.
O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!

Bene.
Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?

Beat.
No, truly, not; although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.

Leon.
Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made
Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron!
Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie,
Who lov'd her so that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die.

Friar.
Hear me a little;
For I have only been silent so long,
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady. I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes,
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading nor my observation,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenure of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

Leon.
Friar, it cannot be.
Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
Is that she will not add to her damnation
A sin of perjury: she not denies it.
Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?

Friar.
Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?

Hero.
They know that do accuse me; I know none.
If I know more of any man alive
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father,
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!

Friar.
There is some strange misprision in the princes.

Bene.
Two of them have the very bent of honour;
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.

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 he 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.]

Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Benedick, Claudio, Hero, Beatrice, the Friar Francis, and all their attendants are gathered at a church to watch Claudio and Hero get married. Leonato recommends they get down to business, and the Friar gets off to a false start when he asks if Claudio has come to marry the lady. Claudio says, "No." Leonato tells the Friar it's his job to marry Hero. Claudio is getting married to her. That's clearly what Claudio meant with his "no." He was just being persnickety about the Friar's grammar. Turns out Leonato is wrong, because two seconds later, Claudio freaks out on everyone. Claudio asks if Leonato is willing to give away his daughter, who is a precious gift. Leonato says he is, and Claudio says, "Don't bother. I won't take her, because she's a whore." Hero blushes, naturally, as she is very chaste. Claudio says she blushes from guilt, not modesty. Leonato is taken aback by the accusation that his daughter is an "approved wanton" . Leonato asks if Claudio is referring to some effort he might've made to take Hero's virginity before their wedding day. Claudio cuts him off. He knew Leonato would suggest that it's really not that big a deal if Hero slept with Claudio before her wedding day, since she would only be sinning against her husband-to-be. But that's not what happened. Claudio says didn't try anything on Hero that a brother wouldn't try with a sister, which is a really weird way to say he was being patient and not trying to sleep with Hero before their wedding. Hero tries to stand up for herself, asking if she ever seemed less than modest to Claudio. Claudio says that's the whole point; she's not what she seems, and she's actually an animal full of savage sensuality. Leonato appeals to Don Pedro, asking if he has anything to say about this madness. Don Pedro says he doesn't have anything to say--he's actually dishonored himself by linking his friend, Claudio, to this 'round the way wanton. Everyone's shocked, slander's being thrown left and right, and Benedick finally pipes up, saying he doesn't think this is how weddings are usually supposed to go. The madness continues for a while, and Hero asks who could possibly stain her name. Claudio points out she actually stained her own name. Then he asks who it was that Hero was talking to out of her window between midnight and one last night. Hero insists she wasn't talking to anyone. Don Pedro replies that he, Don John, and Claudio clearly witnessed some man "talking" with Hero at her window last night. The man was kind enough to confess the thousand times that he and Hero had "vile encounters" before that. We don't think he was talking about a friendly game of cribbage. Before anyone can respond, Don John says it would be too offensive to repeat everything they heard. Also, he's sorry that Hero is such a misguided young girl. Claudio, not to lose his Mr. Melodrama title, laments that Hero would've been a great girl if her heart had been as pure as her outward appearance. Instead, she's sleazy, and he's out of here. Furthermore, he'll now suspect all beautiful things to be faithless. She's ruined love for him forever! Leonato asks if anyone has a knife so he can kill himself. Hero faints. Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio exit while everyone else is tending to the fainting, slandered girl, Hero. Beatrice worries that Hero is dead, and Leonato's like, "Awesome, being dead would be a good way to hide her shame." Leonato is distraught when it turns out Hero isn't dead. He laments that he had only one child, and that it's Hero. He used to be so proud and full of love for her. Now he wishes she wasn't his biological child. If, instead, she was some beggar he had adopted, he could at least say her behavior wasn't his fault. He could blame it on bad genes. Sweet. Benedick, witnessing all of this, is speechless. Beatrice, however, knows that her cousin is the victim of a smear campaign. Benedick asks if Beatrice slept with Hero in bed last night. Though Beatrice admits she didn't sleep in Hero's bed last night, she had slept with Hero for all of last year, so presumably she'd know if Hero had had a thousand vile encounters with some guy. Leonato takes Beatrice's absence last night as confirmation that the accusations against Hero are true. He is certain that Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio wouldn't lie, so he accepts their word above everything he knows about his daughter. Leonato decides Hero should be left alone to die. Friar Francis perks up, and says he's been silent too long about this madness. The Friar reflects on all of the goodness he's noted in Hero. The good fire in her eye is evidence enough for him to believe that Don Pedro and Don John were wrong in accusing the girl. He's willing to bet his friarhood that Hero is innocent. The Friar then questions Hero about what man she's accused of seeing. Hero points out that she wouldn't know who the fellow is, because no such man exists. If anyone can prove that she entertained a man at improper hours, she's willing to be tortured. The Friar says something's up with these princes. Benedick points out that of the accusers, Don Pedro and Claudio, are honorable men. If the two of them were misled, they were misled by Don John, who delights in mischief. Hearing this, Leonato becomes as worked up about Hero's accusers as he was about Hero just five seconds ago. He declares that if Hero's honor has been wrongly tarnished, even though he's old, he'll make her accusers pay. Friar Francis hatches a devious plan that will turn the whole course of the play. The Friar notes that Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio left the church while Hero was believed to be dead. They'll all pretend that Hero is dead. The family should go ahead with all the mourning rituals as if Hero had died, even going so far as to have her buried in the family tomb. Leonato wonders what the this "she's really dead" ruse is going to accomplish. The Friar says that news of Hero's death will help change the public's feeling. Once everyone hears how quickly the girl died after being accused, they'll all lament and pity her . After all, the Friar says, people don't know what they've got 'til it's gone; they'll value Hero more once they think she's dead. The Friar is sure that once Claudio discovers that his accusation caused Hero's death, he'll be moved to remember her sweet life, and not dwell on thoughts of her as a scandalous adulteress. The Friar insists that if Claudio really loved Hero, he'll have no choice but to mourn her death and wish he hadn't ever accused her. Once they get the plan rolling, the Friar is sure the truth will shake out somehow, and Hero's name will be cleared. If her innocence isn't proven, worst case scenario is that she gets cloistered somewhere as a nun. Benedick agrees to go along with the plan even though his allegiance and friendship belong to Claudio and Don Pedro. Leonato will also participate because he's too moved by grief to suggest another plan. Either way, the Friar is convinced that only a cockamamie scheme can resolve this cockamamie situation. Everyone except Benedick and Beatrice leave the church. It's a totally inappropriate time for them to declare their love considering that everyone's life was just ruined, but Benedick and Beatrice do have a habit of making everything about themselves sometimes. Benedick approaches Beatrice, who's clearly been crying, and assures her that he considers Hero to be wrongly accused. Beatrice suggests that she'd be in debt to any man who could clear her cousin's name, but alas, there is no such man. Benedick says, "I'm a man," and adds that he loves Beatrice. Isn't that weird? Beatrice says it's no weirder than the fact that she loves him, too. Then she tries to take the words back, embarrassed. Benedick is pysched that Beatrice loves him. They tell each other how much they love each other, and Benedick vows he'd do anything for Beatrice's love. Beatrice says she actually does need something, and that's for someone to kill Claudio. Um...what now? Benedick backtracks. He'll do anything for love, but he won't do that. Beatrice starts to leave, but he calls her back. Beatrice declares his love is poor indeed, if he's not willing to kill her enemy who purposefully waited to denounce Hero until he was in front of the crowd gathered to see the girl married. Beatrice goes on here, and wishes she were a man, because then she could eat Claudio's heart in the marketplace. Um. Beatrice is stricken. Based on Benedick's hesitation to kill Claudio, she vents that manhood nowadays seems to be more about polite fripperies than action and bravery. Benedick asks if Beatrice really believes, deep down, that Claudio has so wronged Hero. Beatrice says yes, and Benedick gives in. He promises to challenge Claudio to a duel and says Claudio will pay dearly for his wrong against Hero. Then he kisses Beatrice's hand and heads off to spread the rumor that Hero is dead.

Everyone gathers inside the church to celebrate the wedding of Claudio and Hero. But when Friar Francis asks Claudio whether he wishes to marry Hero, Claudio breaks into an outraged speech. He tells Leonato that he sends Hero back to Leonato again, for though she seems outwardly pure and blushes with innocence, her outward features belie her inward corruption and that she is, in fact, an unchaste, unfaithful whore. The happy wedding transforms itself into a chaotic uproar. Leonato and the shaken Hero ask what Claudio means. Claudio tells Leonato, in front of everyone in the church, that the night before Claudio, Don Pedro, and Don John watched Hero "tal" with a vile man at her window. This man has also "onfessed" to having had sexual encounters with Hero many times before. Don Pedro supports Claudio's accusations, and they, together with Don John, accuse Hero of sexual looseness. Leonato cries out in despair, asking for a dagger with which to commit suicide. The overwhelmed Hero sinks to the ground, unconscious. Benedick and Beatrice rush to offer her their assistance, while Claudio, Don Pedro, and Don John leave the church without looking back. Leonato, weeping, tells Benedick and Beatrice to let Hero die, since that would be better than for her to live in shame. Beatrice, however, remains absolutely convinced that her cousin has been slandered. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the friar steps in. A quiet observer to the whole proceeding, he has wisely determined from the expressions of shock he has seen on Hero's face that she is not guilty of unfaithfulness. Hero regains consciousness and insists that she is a virgin, that she has been entirely faithful to Claudio, and that she has no idea what her accusers are talking about. The intelligent Benedick realizes that if the accusation is a lie, it must originate with the troublemaking Don John, who would happily trick these two to spoil their happiness. The friar comes up with an unexpected plan: he suggests that Hero's existence be concealed, and that Leonato tell everyone she has died of shock and grief. When her accusers hear that an innocent woman has died, their anger will turn into regret, and they will start to remember what a virtuous lady Hero was. If the accusation really is a trick, then perhaps the treachery will expose itself, and Hero can return to the world. In the worst-case scenario, Hero can later be taken off quietly and placed in a convent to become a nun. The grieving, confused Leonato agrees to go along with the plan. The others depart with Hero, leaving Benedick and Beatrice alone together. Benedick, trying to comfort Beatrice, asks if there is any way he can show his friendship to her. He suddenly confesses that he is in love with her, acknowledging how strange it is for his affections to reverse so suddenly, and she, equally startled and confused, replies in similar terms. But when Benedick says that he will do anything for Beatrice, she asks him to kill his friend Claudio. The shocked Benedick refuses. Angry, Beatrice denounces Claudio's savagery, saying that if she were a man she would kill him herself for his slander of her cousin and the cruelty of his trick. After listening to her, Benedick changes his mind and soberly agrees to challenge Claudio--for the wrong that he has done to Hero and for Beatrice's sake


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.

Dog.
Well, stand aside. Fore God, they are both in a tale.
Have you writ down that they are none?

Sex.
Master Constable, you go not the way to examine. You must call
forth the watch that are their accusers.

Dog.
Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch come forth.
Masters, I charge you in the Prince's name accuse these men.

1. Watch.
This man said, sir, that Don John the Prince's brother was a
villain.

Dog.
Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to
call a prince's brother villain.

Bora.
Master Constable--

Dog.
Pray thee, fellow, peace. I do not like thy look, I promise thee.

Sex.
What heard you him say else?

2. Watch.
Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for
accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.

Dog.
Flat burglary as ever was committed.

Verg.
Yea, by th' mass, that it is.

Sex.
What else, fellow?

1. Watch.
And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero
before the whole assembly, and not marry her.

Dog.
O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for
this.

Sex.
What else?

Watchmen.
This is all.

Sex.
And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this
morning secretly stol'n away. Hero was in this manner accus'd, in
this manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this
suddenly died. Master Constable, let these men be bound and
brought to Leonato's. I will go before and show him their
examination.                                         [Exit.]

Dog.
Come, let them be opinion'd.

Verg.
Let them be in the hands--

Con.
Off, coxcomb!

Dog.
God's my life, where's the sexton? Let him write down the
Prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.--Thou naughty varlet!

Con.
Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.

Dog.
Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my years? O
that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember
that I am an ass. Though it be not written down, yet forget not
that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as
shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow;
and which is more, an officer; and which is more, a householder;
and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in
Messina, and one that knows the law, go to! and a rich fellow
enough, go to! and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that
hath two gowns and everything handsome about him. Bring him away.
O that I had been writ down an ass!
                                                     [Exeunt.]

At the prison, Dogberry and Verges, along with a sexton prepare to examine Borachio and Conrade. Dogberry does his usual mangling of the English language, and finally gets out that Borachio and Conrade stand accused of being "false knaves," though they deny it. The watchmen are called in to make their accusations, and they present it in three parts, which Dogberry doesn't quite understand, and mistakes the importance of. First, a watchman says Borachio and Conrade are guilty of calling Don John a villain. Dogberry assumes the crime in this is perjury, since it must be a lie. A second watchman says that Borachio has received a thousand ducats from Don John for wrongfully slandering Hero. Dogberry misses the "wrongfully accusing Hero" part, and decides the crime here is theft. Finally, the first watchman declares that because of the wrongful accusation against Hero, Claudio intended to disgrace the girl before the wedding party, and refuse to marry her. Dogberry gets this, but he condemns the knaves to "everlasting redemption." He actually means "everlasting damnation," but this is a useful slip if you're a sinner. Thankfully, the sexton has two brain cells to rub together, and he realizes that they've tripped upon a treacherous plot. The sexton combines the watchmen's testimony with the news that Don John has secretly run away from town, and Hero died that morning as a result of an accusation of disloyalty. The sexton orders Dogberry and Verges to tie up Borachio and Conrade. He intends to bring the two villains to Leonato, so he can deliver the news of the plot to Hero's poor father. The sexton departs. When Dogberry and Verges try to lay hands on Conrade, the prisoner immediately dismisses Verges as a coxcomb , and thus calling Verges a fool. Dogberry wishes the sexton were still around, so he could add that insult the record. In response, Conrade declares Dogberry an ass. Now we finally get some insight into why Dogberry is so full of highfalutin language, and constantly trying to prove himself a gentleman. Dogberry lists off all the societal labels he has: he's a householder, and a good looking guy, and he's knowledgeable about the law, and he has money enough. But he also admits that he's a man that's "had losses." So it seems like Dogberry once had much more, lost his station in life, and now spends all his time trying to rebuild his legitimacy. Either way, Dogberry resents being called an ass, and tells everybody to remember Conrade's crime against him.

Elsewhere, Dogberry, Verges, and the Watch interrogate Borachio and Conrad. Borachio confesses that he received money from Don John for pretending to make love to Hero and then lying about it to Claudio and Don Pedro. When they hear about what has happened at the wedding, the watchmen tie up the captives and take them to Leonato's house. Dost thou not suspect my place. Dost thou not suspect my years. O that he were here to write me down an ass. But masters, remember that I am an ass.

With the wedding scene--the climax of the play--the tone takes an abrupt turn, plunging from high comedy into tragedy. Claudio's rejection of Hero is designed to inflict as much pain as possible, and Hero's and Leonato's reactions to it seem to make things even worse. Few accusations could cause a woman more harm in the Renaissance than that of being unchaste, and Claudio uses deliberately theatrical language to hurt Hero publicly, in front of friends and family. The rejection scene also throws other relationships in the play into question: Claudio and Don Pedro both suggest that it reflects badly on Leonato's social manners to have tried to foist off a woman like Hero on Claudio, and Don Pedro implies that his own reputation has suffered by way of the apparent discovery that he and Claudio have made regarding Hero's virginity. Claudio assaults Leonato by denigrating Hero: "Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She's but the sign and semblance of her honour". Although the usually quiet Hero speaks up in her own defense, Claudio does not allow her even the possibility of defending herself. When she blushes in shock and humiliation, he cries:. Would you not swear,All you that see her, that she were a maid,By these exterior shows. But she is none. She knows the heat of a luxurious bed. Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. Hero's reactions of horror become, in Claudio's description of her face, evidence of her guilt, making it impossible for her to offer any defense. Claudio similarly discards Hero's denial of the accusation when she says, "I talked with no man at that hour, my lord". Claudio is convinced--by his eyes, by his own suspicious nature, and by his certainty that he cannot have been mistaken--that he knows the truth. He has already tried and convicted Hero in his mind, and she is afforded no chance to prove her virtue. Following immediately upon these moments of betrayal and pain, however, seeds are sown for resolution and redemption. The trick that the friar plans is ingenious, and it seems to be a good one. It also plays cunningly upon a simple fact of human nature: That what we have, we prize not to the worthWhiles we enjoy it, but, being lacked and lost,. then we findThe virtue that possession would not show usWhiles it was ours. As soon as Hero's accusers think her dead, the friar realizes, much of the anger driving Claudio and the others will dissipate, and they will start to remember her good qualities and regret their poor treatment of her. The "greater birth" that the friar envisions will transform Hero from an object of scorn and slander into someone mourned and better beloved than when she was alive. In order to wash away her alleged sin, then, Hero will have to die and be symbolically reborn. The scene also marks a critical turning point in the relationship between Benedick and Beatrice. Benedick seems to make an important decision when he stays behind in the church with Beatrice and her family instead of leaving with Claudio, Don Pedro, and Don John. His loyalty, which lies with his soldier friends when he arrives in Messina, now draws him to stay with Beatrice. In their elliptical ways, Beatrice and Benedick confess their love to one another after everyone else has left the church. Beatrice's confused answer to Benedick's blurting out that he loves her reveals that she is hiding something. Indeed, when Benedick exultantly exclaims that she loves him, she finally admits it: "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest". Lost in his newfound love, Benedick apparently converts himself to Beatrice's way of thinking. Soberly he asks her whether she truly believes that Claudio has slandered Hero. When Beatrice answers yes, Benedick says, "Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you". Spurred by his own conscience, his love for Beatrice, and his trust in Beatrice's judgment, Benedick makes the radical decision to challenge Claudio to a duel to the death for what he has done to Hero. The lines of loyalty in the play have changed considerably