Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head?
Claud. Yea, and text underneath, “Here dwells Benedick the married man”?
Bene. Fare you well, boy, you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humor. You break jests as braggards do their blades, which, God be thank’d, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you. I must discontinue your company. Your brother the bastard is fled from Messina. You have among you kill’d a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lack-beard there, he and I shall meet, and till then peace be with him.
[Exit.]
D. Pedro. He is in earnest.
Claud. In most profound earnest, and I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.
D. Pedro. And hath challeng’d thee?
Claud. Most sincerely.
D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!
Enter Constables [Dogberry and Verges, and the Watch with] Conrade and Borachio.
Claud. He is then a giant to an ape, but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.
D. Pedro. But soft you, let me be. Pluck up, my heart, and be sad. Did he not say my brother was fled?
Dog. Come you, sir. If justice cannot tame you, she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance. Nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be look’d to.
D. Pedro. How now? two of my brother’s men bound? Borachio one!
Claud. Hearken after their offense, my lord.
D. Pedro. Officers, what offense have these men done?
Dog. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixt and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves.
D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offense; sixt and lastly, why they are committed; and to conclude, what you lay to their charge.
Claud. Rightly reason’d, and in his own division, and by my troth there’s one meaning well suited.
D. Pedro. Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What’s your offense?
Bora. Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceiv’d even your very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incens’d me to slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments, how you disgrac’d her when you should marry her. My villainy they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation; and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.
D. Pedro.
Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?
Claud.
I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it.
D. Pedro.
But did my brother set thee on to this?
Bora.
Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it.
D. Pedro.
He is compos’d and fram’d of treachery,
And fled he is upon this villainy.
Claud.
Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear
In the rare semblance that I lov’d it first.
Dog. Come, bring away the plaintiffs. By this time our sexton hath reform’d Signior Leonato of the matter; and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
Verg. Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.
Enter Leonato, his brother [Antonio], and the Sexton.
Leon.
Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes,
That when I note another man like him
I may avoid him. Which of these is he?
Bora.
If you would know your wronger, look on me.
Leon.
Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill’d
Mine innocent child?
Bora.
Yea, even I alone.
Leon.
No, not so, villain, thou beliest thyself.
Here stand a pair of honorable men,
A third is fled, that had a hand in it.
I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death;
Record it with your high and worthy deeds.
’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
Claud.
I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself,
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin; yet sinn’d I not,
But in mistaking.
D. Pedro.
By my soul, nor I,
And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he’ll enjoin me to.
Leon.
I
