The Public's Much Ado About Nothing (2019) - full transcript

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Next on "Great Performances,"
it's a simple case of he said...

I will live a bachelor.
...she said.

He that is more than a youth
is not for me,

and he that is less than a man,
I am not for him!

...he said...
Lady, as you are mine,

I am yours.
...she said...

I do.

...but a notsosimple case
of they said.

What was it
you told me of today,

that your niece, Beatrice,

was in love
with Signior Benedick?



Oh, aye!

Are you sure that Benedick
loves Beatrice?

Ooh!

I came hither to tell you

the lady is disloyal.

Hilarity, heartache, and love

ensue under the stars
with the Public Theater's

Free Shakespeare In The Park
presentation of the Bard's

comedic masterpiece
"Much Ado About Nothing."

Against my will, I am sent
to bid you come in to dinner.

There's a double meaning
in that.

Mother, mother

There's too many
of you crying

Mm, brother,
brother, brother



Far too many of you dying

But we've got to find a way

To bring some loving

Some loving here today

Picket lines

And picket signs

Don't punish me
with brutality

Come on, talk to me

Mm, talk to me
So that you can see

Oh, what's going on
What's going on

Tell me, what's going on

What going on
Oh, what's going on

What's going on
Oh, what's going on

Oh, beautiful

For spacious skies

For amber waves of grain
Hmm, what's going on

For purple mountains
What's going on

Majesties
What's going on

Above the fruited plain

America
Oh oh whoa

America
Whoo

God, shed his grace on thee

What's going on
And crown thy good

What's going on
With brotherhood

What's going on
From sea to shining sea

You showed up!
Yes!

I learned in this letter

that Don Pedro of Aragon
comes this night.

He was not three leagues off
when I left him.

How many have you lost
in this action?

But few of any sort.
I find here that Don Pedro

hath bestowed much honor
on young Claudio!

Much deserved on his part.

He hath borne himself beyond
the promise of his age,

doing in the figure of a lamb
the feats of a lion.

I pray you,
is Signior Mountanto

returned from the wars or no?

I know none
of that name, lady.

There was none such in the army
of any sort.

What is he that you
ask for, niece?

My cousin means
Signior Benedick.

Oh, he's returned
and as pleasant as ever he was.

I pray you, how many hath he
killed and eaten in these wars?

But how many hath he killed?

For indeed, I promised to eat
all of his killings.

Faith, niece, you tax
Signior Benedick too much.

But he'll be meet with you!
I doubt it not!

He hath done good service,
lady, in these wars.

He is a very
valiant trenchman.

He hath an excellent stomach.

And a good soldier too, lady.

And a good soldier

to

a lady.
But what is he to a lord?

A lord to a lord,
a man to a man,

stuffed with
all honorable virtue.

It is so indeed!

He is no less
than a stuffed man,

but for the stuffing,
well, we're all mortal.

You must not mistake my niece.

There's a kind of merry war
'twixt Signior Benedick and her.

They never meet, but there's
a skirmish of wit between them.

Mmhmm.
Huh.

Who is his companion now?

He hath every month
a new sworn brother.

'Tis possible.
Very easily possible.

I see, lady, the gentleman
is not in your books.

No, and he were,
I would burn my study,

but I pray you,
who is his companion?

Is there no young squarer now

that will make a voyage with him
to the devil?

He is most in the company
of the right, noble Claudio.

Oh, Lord, he will hang
upon him like a disease.

He is sooner caught
than the pestilence,

and the taker run presently mad!

God, help the noble Claudio.

I will hold friends
with you, lady.

Do, good friend.

Don Pedro is approached!

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Right, oh, left

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Right, oh, left

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Right, oh, left

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Right, oh, left

Company, halt!

Right face!

Huh!
Huh!

Huh!
Huh!

Aaaah!

Oh, good Signior Leonato!

Are you come to meet
your trouble!

The fashion of the world
is to avoid cost,

and you encounter it!

Never came trouble to my house

in the likeness of your grace,

for trouble being gone,
comfort should remain,

but when you depart from me,
sorrow abounds,

and happiness takes his leave!

You embrace your charge
too willingly!

I think this is your daughter.

Her mother hath many times
told me so.

Were you in doubt, sir,
that you asked her?

Signior Benedick, no,
for then were you a child.

You have it full, Benedick.

We may guess by this
what you are, being a man.

Truly, the lady
fathers herself.

Be happy, lady, for you are
like an honorable father.

If Signior Leonato
be her father,

she would not have his head
on her shoulders

as like a man she is.

I wonder that you will still
be talking, Signior Benedick!

Nobody marks you!

What, my dear Lady Disdain,
are you yet living?

Is it possible disdain
should die

while she hath such meet food
to feed it as Signior Benedick?

Courtesy itself must
convert to disdain

if you come in her presence.

Mm.
Then is courtesy a turncoat?

But it is certain I am loved
of all ladies...

Ha!
...only you excepted,

and I would I could
find in my heart

that I had not a hard heart,
for truly I love none.

A dear happiness to women.

They would else have
been troubled

with a pernicious suitor.

I thank God and my cold blood

I am of your humor for that.

I had rather hear my dog
bark at a crow

than a man swear he loves me.

Ooh, God, keep your ladyship

still in that mind
so some gentleman or other

shall escape a predestined
scratched face.

Scratching could not
make it worse

to such a face as yours were!

Oh!
Ooh!

Oh, come on!
Get him!

Well, you are
a rare parrot teacher.

Bird of my tongue is better
than a beast of yours.

I would my horse had
the speed of your tongue

and so good a continuer,
but keep your ways.

In God's name, I have done.

You always end
with a jade's trick.

I know you of old.

That is the sum of all,
Leonato.

Signior Claudio
and Signior Benedick,

my dear friend, Leonato,
hath invited you all!

I tell him we shall stay here
at the least a month,

and he heartily prays some
occasion may detain us longer.

Let me bid you welcome,
my lord.

Being reconciled to Don John,
your brother,

I owe you all duty.

I thank you.

I am not of many words,
but I thank you.

Please it, your grace, lead on.

Your hand, Leonato.
We will go together.

Go ahead.

Benedick, didst thousand note
the daughter of Signior Leonato?

I noted her not,
but I looked on her.

Is she not
a modest young lady?

Do you question me
as an honest man should do

for my simple true judgement,

or would you have me
speak after my customs

being a professed tyrant
to their sex?

No, I pray thee speak
in sober judgement.

Only this commendation
I can afford her,

that were she other than she is,

she were unhandsome,

and being no other
but as she is,

I do not like her.

Thou thinkest I am in sport.

I pray thee tell me truly
how thou likest her.

Would you buy her,
that you inquire after her?

In mine eye,

she is the sweetest lady
that ever I looked on.

I can see yet
without spectacles,

and I see no such matter.

There's her cousin,

and she were not possessed
with a fury,

exceeds her as much in beauty

as the first of May
doth the last of December,

but I hope you have no intent
to turn husband, have you?

I would scarce trust myself
though I had sworn the contrary

if Hero would be my wife.
It's come to this?

Shall I never see a bachelor
of threescore again?

Oh, go to in faith,

and thou wilt needs thrust
thy neck into a yoke,

wear the print of it
and sigh away Sundays!

Look, Don Pedro has returned
to seek you.

What secret hath held you here

that you follow not
to Leonato's?

I would your grace would
constrain me to tell.

I charge thee
on they allegiance.

You hear, Count Claudio,
I can be secret as a dumb man.

I would have you think so,
but on my allegiance...

Yes.
...he is in love.

With who?
Hero, Leonato's daughter!

If this were so,
so it were uttered.

Like the old tale, my lord,
it is not so, nor it was not so,

but indeed,
God forbid it should be so.

If my passion
change not shortly,

God forbid
it should be otherwise.

Amen if you love her for
the lady is very well worthy.

You speak this to fetch me in,
my lord.

By my troth,
I speak my thought.

And in faith, my lord,
I spoke mine.

And by my two faiths
and troths, my lord,

I spoke mine.
That I love her, I feel.

That she is worthy, I know.

That I neither feel
how she should be loved

nor know
how she should be worthy

is the opinion that fire
cannot melt out of me.

I will die in it at the stake.

Thou wast ever
an obstinate heretic

in the despite of beauty.

And never could maintain
his part

but in the force of his will.

That a woman conceived me,
I thank her.

That she brought me up,
I likewise give her

most humble thanks,
but all women shall pardon me.

Because I will not do them
the wrong to mistrust any,

I will do myself
the right to trust none.

Ah.
And the fine is,

or the which I may go the finer,

I will live a bachelor.

I shall see thee, ere I die,

look pale with love.

With anger, with sickness
or with hunger, my lord,

not with love.

Prove that ever I lose
more blood with love

than I will get again
with drinking,

pick out mine eyes
with a ballad maker's pen

and hang me up at the door
of a brothel house

for the sign of blind Cupid.

Well, if ever thou dost
fall from this faith,

thou wilt prove
a notable argument.

In the meantime,

good Signior Benedick,
repair to Leonato's.

Commend me to him and tell him
I will not fail him at supper

for indeed he hath made
great preparation.

And so I leave you.

My liege, your highness
now may do me good.

My love is thine to teach.

Teach it but how,
and thou shalt see how apt it is

to learn any hard lesson
that may do thee good.

Hath Leonato any son, my lord?

No child but Hero.

She's his only heir.

Dost thou affect her, Claudio?

Oh, my lord.

When you went onward
on this ended action,

I looked upon her
with a soldier's eye that liked

but had a rougher task in hand

than to drive liking
to the name of love,

but now I am returned,

and that war thoughts
have left their places vacant,

in their rooms come thronging
soft and delicate desires

all prompting me
how fair young Hero is,

saying I liked her
ere I went to wars.

Thou wilt be like a lover
presently

and tire the hearer
with a book of words.

If thou dost love fair Hero,
cherish it,

and I will break with her
and with her father,

and thou shalt have her.

Was it not to this end
that thou beganest

to twist so fine a story?

How sweetly you do
minister to love

that knows love's grief
by its complexion,

but lest my liking might
too sudden seem,

I would've salved it
with a longer treatise.

Oh, I will fit thee
with the remedy!

I know.

We shall have reveling tonight.

I will assume thy part
in some disguise

and tell fair Hero I am Claudio,

and in her bosom,
I'll unclasp my heart

and take her hearing prison

with the force and strong
encounter of my amorous tale.

Then after to her father
will I break,

and the conclusion is,
she shall be thine, huh?

In practice let us
put it presently.

Brother,
I can tell you strange news

that you yet dreamt not of.

Are they good?

The prince and Count Claudio

were thus much overheard
by a man of mine.

The prince discovered to Claudio
that he loved my niece,

your daughter,

and meant to acknowledge it
this night in a dance,

and if he found her accordant,

he meant to instantly
break with you of it.

Hath the fellow any wit
that told you this?

A good, sharp fellow.

I will send for him
and question him yourself.

No, no.

We will hold it as a dream
till it appear itself,

but I will acquaint my daughter
with all

that she may be the better
prepared for an answer

if peradventure this to be true!

My lord, why are you thus
out of measure sad?

There is no measure
in the occasion that breeds.

Therefore, the sadness
is without limit.

You should hear reason.

And when I have heard it,
what blessing brings it?

If not a present remedy,
at least a patient sufferance.

I cannot hide what I am!

I must be sad when I have cause
and smile at no man's jests,

eat when I have stomach
and wait for no man's leisure,

sleep when I am drowsy
and tend on no man's business.

Yea, but you must not make
the full show of this

till you may do it
without controlment!

You have of late stood out
against your brother,

and he hath ta'en you newly
into his grace

where it is impossible
you should take true root

but by the fair weather
that you make yourself.

It is needful that you frame
the season for your own harvest.

I had rather be
a canker in a hedge

than a rose in his grace!

Though I cannot be said to be
a flattering, honest man,

it must not be denied,

but I am a plaindealing
villain.

I am trusted with a muzzle
and enfranchised with a clog,

therefore have decreed
not to sing in my cage.

If I had my mouth, I would bite.

If I had my liberty,

I would do my liking.

In the meantime...

let me be that I am,
and seek not to alter me!

Can you make no use
of your discontent?

I make all use of it
for I use it only.

Who comes here?

What news, Borachio?

I came yonder
from a great supper.

The prince, your brother, is
royally entertained by Leonato,

and I can give you intelligence
of an intended marriage.

Will it serve for any model
to build mischief on?

What is he for a fool that
betroths himself to unquietness?

Marry, it is
your brother's right hand.

Who?
The most exquisite Claudio?

Even he.
A proper squire.

Which way looks he?
Marry, on Hero,

the daughter and heir
of Leonato.

A very forward Marchchick.

How came you to this?

As I was smoking, comes me
the prince and Claudio

hand in hand in sad conference.

I whipped me behind the arras,
and there heard it agreed

upon that the prince should
woo Hero for himself and,

having obtained her,
give her to Count Claudio.

Come! Come!
Let us thither.

This may prove food

to my displeasure.

That young startup hath
all the glory of my overthrow.

If I can cross him any way,

I bless myself every way.

You are both sure
and will assist me?

To the death, my lord.
Let us to the great supper.

Shall we go prove
what's to be done?

We'll wait upon your lordship.

Was not Count John
here at supper?

I saw him not.

How tartly
that gentleman looks.

I never can see him,

but I'm heartburned
an hour after.

He is of a very
melancholy disposition.

He were an excellent man
that were made

just in the midway
between him and Benedick.

The one is too like an image
and says nothing

and the other evermore tattling.

Then half Signior Benedick's
tongue and Count John's mouth

and half Count John's melancholy
and Signior Benedick's face!

With a good leg
and a good foot, Uncle,

and money enough in his purse,

such a man would win
any woman in the world

if he could get her goodwill.

By my troth, niece,

thou wilt never
get thee a husband

if thou be so shrewd
of thy tongue.

In faith, she's too cursed.

Too cursed is
more than cursed.

I shall lessen God's sending
that way for it is said

God send a cursed cow
short horns,

but to a cow too cursed,
he send none.

So by being too cursed,

God will send you no horns!

Just if he send me no husband
for the which blessing

I am at him upon my knees
every morning and evening!

Lord, I could not
endure a husband

with a beard on his face!

I had rather lie in the woollen.

You may light on a husband
that hath no beard!

What should I do with him?

Dress him in my apparel

and make him
my waiting gentlewoman?

He that hath a beard
is more than a youth,

and he that hath no beard
is less than a man,

and he that is more than a youth
is not for me,

and he that is less than a man,
I am not for him!

Therefore, I will even take

sixpence in earnest
of the bearward

and lead his apes into Hell.

Well, then go you into Hell?
No!

But to the gate,

and there will be the Devil

meet me like an old cuckold

with horns on his head and said,

"Get you to heaven, Beatrice!

Get you to heaven!

Here is no place for you maids!"

So deliver I up my apes

and away to Saint Peter
for the heavens.

He shows me where
the bachelors sit,

and there live we
as merry as the day is long!

Well, niece!

I trust you will be
ruled by your father.

Yes, faith,
it is my cousin's duty

to make curtsy and say,

"Father, as it please you."

But for all that, cousin,
let him be a handsome fella,

or else make another curtsy
and say,

"Father, as it please me."

Okurrr!

Well, niece,

I hope to see you one day
fitted with a husband!

Not till God make men
of some other metal than earth.

Would it not grieve a woman

to be overmastered
with a piece of valiant dust?

No, uncle, I'll none.

Adam's sons are my brethren,

and truly I hold it a sin
to match in my kindred.

Daughter, remember
what I told you.

If the prince do solicit you
in that kind,

you know your answer.

The fault will be
in the music, cousin,

if you be not wooed
in good time!

Cousin, you apprehend
passing shrewdly!

I have a good eye, uncle!

I can see a church by daylight!

The revelers are entering!

Let's take a chance and
we can dance all night through

Baby, me and you

Let's see what happens,
see what happens

See what happens if we

We make the magic, baby,
we can make it happen maybe

Let's take a chance, and
we can dance all night through

Baby, me and you

Lady, will you walk about
with your friend?

So you walk softly and look
sweetly and say nothing,

I am yours for the walk,
and especially when I walk away.

With me in your company?

I may say so when I please.

And when please you to say so?

When I like your favor.

Speak low if you speak love.

Well, I would you did like me.

So would not I
for your own sake

for I have many ill qualities.
Which is one?

I say my prayers aloud.
I love you the better.

The hearers may cry, "Amen."

God match me with
a good dancer.

Amen.

And God keep him
out of my sight

when the dance is done.

No more words?

Let's see what happens,
see what happens

See what happens if we

We make the magic, baby,
we can make it happen maybe

Let's take a chance, and
we can dance all night long

Baby, me and you

I know you well enough!

You are Signior Antonio!
At a word, I am not.

I know you by the waggling
of your head.

To tell you true,
I counterfeit him.

You could never do him
so ill well

unless you are the very man!

You are he!
You are he!

At a word, I am not.
Come, come, do you think

I do not know you
by your excellent wit?

Can virtue hide itself?

Go to, mum!
You are he!

Graces will appear,
and there's an end!

Will you not tell me
who told you so?

No, you shall pardon me.

Nor will you not tell me
who you are?

Ooh, not now.
That I was disdainful, well,

this was Signior Benedick
that said so.

What's he?

I'm sure you know him
well enough.

Not I, believe me.
Did he never make you laugh?

I pray you, what is he?

Why, he's the prince's jester,

a very dull fool.

I'm sure he's in the fleet.

When I know the gentleman,

I'll tell him what you say.

Do. Do.

We must follow the leaders!
Hey!

Let's see what happens,
see what happens

See what happens if we

We make the magic, baby,
we can make it happen maybe

Let's take a chance, and
we can dance all night through

Baby, me and you

Hey, hey!

Let's take a chance, and
we can dance all night through

Baby, me and you

Let's see what happens,
see what happens

See what happens

Sure, my brother
is amorous on Hero

and hath withdrawn her father
to break with him about it.

The ladies follow her,
and but one visor remains.

And that is Claudio.
I know him by his bearing.

Are you not Signior Benedick?

You know me well.
I am he.

Signior, you are very near
my brother in his love.

He is enamored on Hero.

I pray you dissuade him
from her.

She is no equal for his birth.

You may do the part
of an honest man in it.

How know you he loves her?

I heard him swear
his affection.

So did I, too, and swore
he would marry her tonight.

Come, let us to the banquet.

Thus answer I
in the name of Benedick

but hear these ill news
with the ears of Claudio.

Tis certain so the prince
woos for himself.

Friendship is constant
in all other things

save in the office
and affairs of love.

Therefore, all hearts
in love use their own tongues.

Let every eye negotiate
for itself

and trust no agent
for beauty is a witch

against whose charms faith
melteth into blood.

Farewell therefore, Hero!

Count Claudio!

Yea, the same.

Come, will you go with me?
Whither?

Even to the next willow

about your own business, county.

What fashion will you
wear the garland of,

about your neck
like an usurer's chain,

under your arm
like a lieutenant's scarf?

You must wear it one way for
the prince hath got your Hero!

I wish him joy of her.

But did you think the prince
would've served you thus?

I pray you, leave me.

Hoho, now you strike
like the blind man.

If it will not be,
I'

ll

leave you.

Clau

Alas, poor hurt fowl!

Now will he creep in the sedges.

But that my Lady Beatrice
should know me and not know me!

The prince's fool, ha!

It may be I go under that title
because I am merry.

Yea, but so am I apt
to do myself wrong.

I am not so reputed.

It is the base, though bitter,
disposition of Beatrice

that puts the world
into her person

and so gives me out.

Well, I'll be revenged as I may.

Now, signior,
where's the count?!

Did you see him?
I found him here

as melancholy
as a lodge in a warren.

I told him,
and I think I told him true,

that your grace had got
the goodwill of this young lady.

Ah!

And I offered him my company
to a willow tree

either to make him a garland
as being forsaken

or to bind him up a rod
as being worthy to be whipped.

To be whipped?
What's his fault?

The flat transgression
of a schoolboy who,

being overjoyed
with finding a birds' nest,

shows it his companion,
and he steals it.

Wilt thou make a trust
a transgression?

The transgression
is in the stealer.

Yet it had not been amiss
the rod had been made

and the garland, too,

for the garland
he might have worn himself,

and the rod he might
have bestowed on you,

who, as I take it,
have stolen his birds' nest.

I will but teach them to sing

and restore them to the owner.

If their singing
answer your saying,

by my faith, you say honestly.

Mmhmm, the Lady Beatrice
hath a quarrel to you.

The gentleman that danced
with her told her

she is much wronged by you.

Oh, she misused me past
the endurance of a block.

She speaks poniards
and every word stabs.

I would not marry her,
though she were endowed

with all that Adam had left him
before he transgressed.

I would to God some scholar
would conjure her,

for certainly while she is here

a man may live as quiet in Hell
as in a sanctuary,

and people sin upon purpose
because they would go thither.

So, indeed, all disquiet,

horror, and perturbation
follows her.

Oh, look.
Here she comes.

Oh, will your grace command me

any service to the world's end?

I will go
on the slightest errand now

to the Antipodes that you
can devise to send me on.

I will fetch you a toothpick now
from the furthest inch of Asia

rather than hold three words
conference with this harpy.

You have no employment for me?

None...

but to desire your good company.

Oh, God, sir!

Here's a dish I love not.

I cannot endure my Lady Tongue.

Come.

Lady, come.

You have lost the heart
of Signior Benedick.

Indeed, my lord.

He lent it me awhile,
and I gave him use for it,

a double heart
for his single one.

Marry, once before he won
it of me with false dice,

therefore your grace
may well say I have lost it.

You have put him down, lady.
You have put him down!

I would not he should do me,
my lord,

lest I should prove
the mother of fools.

Now come
I have brought Count Claudio,

whom you sent me to seek.

Why, how now, count?

Wherefore are you sad?

Not sad, my lord.

How then? Sick?
Neither, my lord.

The count is neither sad,
nor sick, nor merry, nor well,

but civil count,
civil as an orange,

and something of that
jealous complexion.

Well,
in faith, lady,

I'll be sworn, if he be so,
his conceit is false!

Here, Claudio,
I have wooed in thy name,

and fair Hero is won.

I have broke with her father
and his good will obtained.

Name the day of marriage,
and God give thee joy!

Count, take of me
my daughter...

and with her my fortunes.

His grace hath made the match,

and all grace say Amen to it.

Amen.

Speak, count.
'Tis your cue.

Silence is the perfectest
herald of joy.

I were but little happy
if I could say how much.

Lady, as you are mine,
I am yours.

I give away myself for you

and dote upon the exchange.

Hootie hoo!

Speak, cousin,

or if you cannot,
stop his mouth with a kiss

and let not him speak neither.

In faith, lady,

you have a merry heart.
Yea, my lord.

I thank it, poor fool, it keeps
on the windy side of care.

My cousin tells him in his ear
that he is in her heart.

And so she doth, cousin.

Good Lord, for alliance.

Thus goes everyone to the world
but I.

I may sit in a corner
and cry heighho for a husband.

Lady Beatrice,

I will get you one.

I would rather have one
of your father's getting.

Hath your grace ne'er a brother
like you?

Your father's got
excellent husbands,

if a maid could come by them.

Will you have me, lady?

Oh!

No, my lord.

Unless I may have another
for working days.

Your grace is too costly
to wear every day,

but I beseech
your grace, pardon.

I as born to speak all mirth
and no matter.

Your silence most offends me,

and to be merry best
becomes you,

for out of question,
you were born in a merry hour.

No, sure, my lord,
my mother cried,

and then there was
a star danced,

and under that was I born.

Oh, cousin.
God give you joy!

Niece, will you look
to those things I told you of?

I cry you mercy, uncle.

By your grace's pardon.

By my troth,
a pleasantspirited lady.

There is little of
the melancholy element

in her, my lord.

She is never sad,
but when she sleeps,

not ever sad then,

for I have heard my daughter say

she hath often dreamt
of unhappiness

and waked herself with laughing.

She cannot endure to hear
tell of a husband.

Oh, by no means.

She mocks all her wooers
out of suit.

She were an excellent wife
for Benedick.

Oh, lord
My lord...

If they were but a week married,
they'd talk themselves mad.

County Claudio, when mean
you to go to church?

Tomorrow, my lord.

Time goes on crutches
until love have all his rites.

Not until Monday, my dear son,

which is hence
a just sevennight,

and a time too brief, too,

to have all things
answer my mind.

Come.

You shake the head at so long
a breathing,

but I warrant thee, Claudio.

The time shall not
go dully by us.

I will in the interim undertake
one of Hercules' labors,

which is to bring
Signior Benedick

and the Lady Beatrice
into a mountain of affection,

the one with the other.

I would fain have it a match,

and I doubt not but
to fashion it if you three will

but minister such assistance
as I shall give you direction.

My lord, I am for you,

though it cost me
10 nights' watchings.

And I, my lord.

And you, too, gentle Hero?

I will do any modest office,
my lord,

to help my cousin
to a good husband.

And Benedick is not

the unhopefullest husband
that I know.

Thus far can I praise him.

He is of a noble strain,

of approved valor
and confirmed honesty.

I will teach you how
to humor your cousin,

that she shall fall in love
with Benedick,

and I, with your two helps,
will so practice on Benedick

that in despite of his quick wit
and his queasy stomach,

he shall fall in love
with Beatrice.

If we can do this,

Cupid is no longer an archer.

His glory shall be ours,
for we are the only love gods.

Go in with me,

and I will tell you
my drift, huh?

Hey, hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey, hey

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Hi.
Hey!

I have been waiting
for this moment.

For me?
All night.

It is so!

Count Claudio shall marry
the daughter of Leonato.

Yea, my lord,
but I can cross it.

Any bar, any cross,

any impediment
will be medicinable to me.

I am sick in displeasure to him,

and whatsoever comes
athwart his affection

ranges evenly with mine.

How canst thou cross
this marriage?

Not honestly, my lord,
but so covertly

that no dishonesty
shall appear in me.

Show me briefly how.

I think I told your lordship
a year since how much I am

in the favor of Margaret,

the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.

I remember.
I can, at any unseasonable

instant of the night,

appoint her to look out
at her lady's chamber window.

What life is in that to be
the death of this marriage?

The poison of that lies in you
to temper.

Go you to the prince,
your brother.

Spare not to tell him
that he hath wronged his honor

in marrying
the renowned Claudio,

whose estimation do you
mightily hold up,

to a contaminated stale,
such a one as Hero.

What proof shall
I make of that?

Proof enough to
misuse the prince,

to vex Claudio,

to undo Hero, and kill Leonato.

Look you for any other issue?

Only to despite them,

I will endeavor anything.
Go then.

Find me a meet hour
to draw Don Pedro

and the Count Claudio alone.

Tell them that you know
that Hero loves me.

Intend a kind of zeal both
to the prince and Claudio,

as in love
of your brother's honor,

who hath made this match,

and his friend's reputation,

who is thus like to be cozened
with the semblance of a maid,

that you have discovered thus.

They will scarcely believe this
without trial.

Offer them instances which
shall bear no less likelihood

than to see me
at her chamber window.

Hear me call Margaret Hero,

and bring them to see this

the very night before
the intended wedding,

for in the meantime,

I will so fashion the matter
that Hero shall be absent,

and there shall appear
such seeming truth

to Hero's disloyalty

that jealousy shall be
called assurance

and all the preparation
overthrown.

Be cunning in the working this

and thy fee is
a thousand ducats.

Be you constant
in the accusation,

and my cunning
shall not shame me.

I will presently go learn
their day of marriage.

I do much wonder that one man,

seeing how much another man
is a fool

when he dedicates
his behaviors to love,

will, after he hath laughed

at such shallow follies
in others,

become the argument
of his own scorn

by falling in love.

Such a man is Claudio.

He was won't to speak plain
and to the purpose,

like an honest man
and a soldier,

and now is
he turned orthography.

His words are a very
fantastical banquet,

just so many strange dishes.

May I be so converted
and see with these eyes?

I think not.
I cannot tell.

I will not be sworn,

but love may transform me
to an oyster,

but I'll take my oath on it.

Till he hath made an oyster
of me,

he shall never make me
such a fool.

One woman is fair,

yet I am well.

Another is wise,
yet I am well.

Another virtuous,
yet I am well,

but until all graces
be in one woman,

one woman shall not
come in my grace.

Rich she shall be,
that's certain,

wise or I'll none,

virtuous
or I'll never cheapen her,

fair or I'll never look on her,

mild or come not near me,

noble or not I for an angel,

of good discourse,

an excellent musician,

and her hair shall be...

of what color it please God.

Na, na, na, na, na, na
Oh!

The prince and Monsieur Love.
I will hide me.

Na, na, na, na, na

Before long,
you feel your heart get happy

Na, na, na, na, na

Come!
Shall we hear this music?

See you where Benedick
hath hid himself?

Oh, very well, my lord.

Come.

Balthasar,
we'll hear that song again.

Oh, good, my lord,
tax not so bad a voice

to slander music
any more than once.

It is the witness
still of excellency

to put a strange face
on his own perfection.

I pray thee, sing,
and let me woo no more.

Because you talk of wooing,
I will sing,

since many a wooer doth
commence his suit,

to her, he thinks not worthy.

Yet he woos,
yet will he swear he loves.

Nay, pray thee, come,
or if though wilt hold

longer argument, do it in notes.

Note this before my notes.

There's not a note of mine
that's worth the noting.

Why, these are very crotchets
that he speaks!

Note, notes,

forsooth and nothing.

No, don't you cry,
don't you cry no more

You knew he was a liar

He been had one foot in and
the other foot out the door

So why complain?
It won't change his desire

And you're getting tired

You might want
to cut your losses

You might want to let him go

Pack up all your sad songs

Trade them in for glad songs
and sing

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Before long,
you feel your heart get happy

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Before long
you feel your heart get happy

No

Don't you waste,
don't you waste those tears

You knew that dude
was playing

And the game ain't changed
in the last 10,000 years

And while you're sitting
around irritated

And dehydrated

He's out with someone else
swinging from the chandeliers

Pack up all your sad songs

Trade them in for glad songs
and sing

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Before long,
you feel your heart get happy

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Before long,
you feel your heart get happy

Yeah!

Thanks.

By my troth, a good song.

I pray thee,
get us some excellent music

for tomorrow night,

we would have it at
the Lady Hero's chamber window.

The best I can, my lord.

Do so.

Farewell.

Leonato!

What was it you
told me of today,

that your niece Beatrice was
in love with Signior Benedick?

Oh, aye!

Stalk on, stalk on.

I did never think that lady
would have loved any man.

No, nor I neither,
but most wonderful

she should so dote
on Signior Benedick,

whom she hath,
in all outward behaviors,

seemed ever to abhor.

Is't possible?

Sits the wind in that corner?

By my troth, my lord,
I cannot tell what to make of it

but that she loves him
with an enraged affection.

It is past the infinite
of thought.

Kobe!

Maybe she doth
but counterfeit.

Faith, like enough.
Oh, God, counterfeit.

There was never counterfeit
of passion

came so near the life of passion
as she discovers it.

Why, what effects
of passion shows she?

Bait the hook well.

This fish will bite.

What effects, my lord?

Uh...

She She will sit you,

You heard my daughter
tell you how.

She did, indeed.

But

how?

How?!

I pray you.

You amaze me.

I would have thought her spirit
had been invincible

against all assaults
of affection.

I would have sworn it had,
my lord,

especially against Benedick.

He hath ta'en the infection.
Hold it up.

Hath she made her affection
known to Benedick?

No, swears she never will.
That's her torment.

Tis true indeed,
so your daughter says.

"Shall I," she says,

"that have so oft
encountered him with scorn,

write to him that I love him?"

This says she now when she is
beginning to write to him,

for she'll be up
20 times a night,

and there will she sit
in her smock

until she hath writ
a sheet of paper.

My daughter tell us all.

And know you talk
of a sheet of paper,

I remember a pretty jest
your daughter told us of.

Oh?

Um...

When she had writ it
and was reading it over,

she found Benedick and Beatrice

between the sheets.

That.
Oh!

She ripped the letter
into a thousand halfpence,

railed at herself
that she should be so immodest

to write to one
that she knew would flout her.

"I measure him," says she,

"by my own spirit.

I should flout him
if he writ to me.

Yea, though I love him,

I should."

Then down upon her knees
she falls, weeps...

...sobs, beats her heart,

tears her hair, prays, curses,

"Oh, sweet Benedick!

God give me patience!"

She doth, indeed.

My daughter says so,

and the ecstasy hath
so much overborne her

that my daughter
is sometimes afeared

she may do a desperate outrage
to herself.

It is very true.

It were good that Benedick
knew of it by some other

if she will not discover it.
To what end?

He will but make a sport of it
and torment the poor lady worse.

And he should,
it were an alms to hang him.

She's an excellent, sweet lady,

and out of all suspicion,
she is virtuous.

And she is exceeding wise.

In everything
but in loving Benedick.

Mm.

I'm sorry for her,
as I have just cause,

being her uncle
and her guardian.

I would she had bestowed
this dotage on me.

I pray you, tell Benedick of it
and hear what he will say.

Were it good, think you?

Never tell him, my lord.

Let her wear it out
with good counsel.

Nay, that's impossible.

She may wear her heart out
first.

What?

Well, we will hear further
of it by your daughter.

Let it cool the while.

I love Benedick well,
and I could wish he would

modestly examine himself
to see how much he is

unworthy so good a lady.

My lord, will you walk?
Dinner is ready.

If he do not dote on her
upon this,

I will never trust
my expectation.

Let there be the same
net spread for her,

and that must your daughter
and her gentlewomen carry.

The sport will be,
when they hold one

an opinion of another's dotage
and no such matter.

Let us send her to call him in
to dinner.

This can be no trick.

The conference was sadly borne.

They have the truth of this
from Hero.

They seem to pity the lady.

It seems her affections
have their full bent.

Love me!

Why, it must be requited.

I hear how I am censured.

They say I will bear myself
proudly,

if I perceive the love
come from her.

They say, too, that
she will rather die

than give any sign of affection.

I did never think to marry.

I must not seem proud.

Happy are they that
hear their detractions

and can put them to mending.

They say the lady is fair.
'Tis a truth.

I can bear them witness!

And virtuous

'Tis so, I cannot reprove it.

And wise, but for loving me

by my troth,
it is no addition to her wit,

nor no great argument
of her folly,

for I will be...

horribly in love with her.

I may chance have
some odd quirks

and remnants of wit broken on me

because I've railed
so long against marriage,

but doth not the appetite alter?

A man loves the meat
in his youth

that he cannot endure
in his age.

Shall quips and sentences

and these paper bullets
of the brain awe a man

from the career of his humor?

No!

The world must be peopled.

When I said
I would die a bachelor,

I did not think I should live
till I were married.

Here comes Beatrice.

By this day,
she's a fair lady.

I do spy some marks of love
in her.

Millionone,
milliontwo, millionthree,

millionfour, millionfive,

millionsix, millionseven,
millioneight...

Against my will,

I am sent to bid you
come in to dinner.

Fair Beatrice,
I thank you for your pains.

I took no more pains
for those thanks

than you take pains to thank me.

If it had been painful,
I would not have come.

You take pleasure then...

in the message?

Yea, just so much as you may
take upon a knife's point

and choke a daw withal.

You have no stomach, signior.
Fare you well.

Ooh!

"Against my will

I am sent to bid you

come in to dinner."

There's a double meaning
in that.

"I took no more pains
for those thanks

than you took pains
to thank me."

That's as much to say
that any pains

I take for you

is as easy as thanks.

If I do not take pity of her,
I am a villain.

I will go get her picture.

Good Margaret.

Good Margaret.

Run thee to the parlor.

There shalt thou find
my cousin, Beatrice,

conversing with the prince
and Claudio.

Whisper her ear and tell her
I and Ursula walk in the orchard

and our whole discourse
is all of her.

Say that thou overheardst us,

and bid her steal
into the pleached bower.

There will she hide her.

I'll make her come,
I warrant you, presently.

Now, Ursula,
when Beatrice doth come,

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.

Ooh!

Now begin,

for look where Beatrice,
like a lapwing,

runs close by the ground
to hear our conference.

The pleasant'st angling
is to the see fish cut

with her golden oars
the silver stream

and greedily devour
the treacherous bait.

Then go we near her,
that her ear lose nothing

of the false sweet bait
that we lay for it.

No, truly, Ursula,
she is too disdainful.

But are you sure that Benedick
loves Beatrice so entirely?

So says the prince
and my newtrothed lord.

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

They did entreat me
to acquaint her of it,

but I persuaded them,
if they loved Benedick,

to wish him wrestle
with affection

and never to let Beatrice
know of it.

Why did you so?

Doth not the gentleman
deserve as full,

as fortunate a bed
as ever Beatrice

shall couch upon?

Oh, god of love!

I know he doth deserve as much
as may be yielded to a man,

but nature never framed
a woman's heart of prouder stuff

than that of Beatrice.

Disdain and scorn ride
sparkling in her eyes,

misprising 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 selfendeared.

Sure, I think so,

and therefore certainly it were
not good she knew his love,

lest she'll make sport at it.

Why, you speak truth.

I never yet saw a man,
how wise, how noble, young,

how rarely featured,

but she would
spell him backward.

If fairfaced, she would
swear the gentleman

should be her sister.

If tall, a Lance illheaded.

If low, an agate,
very viley cut,

If speaking, like 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.

Sure, sure.

Such carping is not commendable.

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.

Oh!

She would laugh me
out of myself,

press me to death with wit.

Therefore, let Benedick,
like covered fire,

consume away in sighs,

waste inwardly.

It were a better death
than die with mocks,

which is as bad
as die with tickling.

Yet tell her of it.

Hear what she will say.
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.

Oh, do not do your cousin
such a wrong.

That's what I'm saying!

She cannot be so much
without true judgment,

having so swift
and excellent a wit

as she is prized to have,

as to refuse so rare a gentleman

as Signior Benedick.

He is the only man.
Ah!

Always excepting
my dear Claudio.

I pray you,
be not angry with me,

madam, speaking my fancy.

Signior Benedick, for shape,
for bearing, argument,

and valor,

goes foremost in report.

Indeed!
He hath an excellent good name.

His excellence did earn it,

ere he had it.

Wait, when are you
married, madam?

Why, every day, tomorrow.

Come, go in.

I'll show thee some attires,
and have thy counsel,

which is the best
to furnish me tomorrow.

Ooh!

She's limed, I warrant you.

We have caught her, madam.

If it proves so,
then loving goes by haps.

Some Cupid kills with arrows,

some with...

traps.

Ha!

What fire is in mine ears?

Can this be true?

Stand I...

condemned for pride

and scorn so much?

Contempt, farewell.

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.

Aaaah!

Hey, hey

No, no, no, no, no

Yeah

Yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Hey

Gallants,
I am not as I have been.

So say I.

Methinks you are sadder.

I hope he be in love.
Hang him, truant.

There is no true drop of blood
in him

to be truly touched with love.

If he be sad, he wants money.

If he be not in love
with some woman,

there is no believing old signs.

He brushes his hat
on the mornings.

What should that bode?

Has any man seen him
at the barber's?

No, but the barber's man
has been seen with him.

Ooh.

And the old ornament
of his cheek hath already

stuffed tennis balls.

Indeed,
he looks younger than he did

by the loss of a beard.

Nay, he rubs himself
with civet.

Can you smell him out by that?

Ew!

That's as much as to say.

The sweet youth is in love.

The greatest note of it
is his melancholy.

And when was he wont
to wash his face?

Yea, or to paint himself?

Conclude!

Conclude he is in love.

Nay, but I know who loves him.

That one I know, too.

Oh, Signor,
walk aside with me.

I have studied eight
or nine wise words

to speak to you which
these hobbyhorses

must not hear.

For my life, to break
with him about Beatrice!

'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.

My lord and brother,
God save you.

Good evening, brother.

If your leisure serves,

I would speak with you.
In private?

If it please you,
yet Count Claudio may hear,

for what I would speak of
concerns him.

What's the matter?

Means your lordship
to be married tomorrow?

You know he does.
I know not that

when he knows what I know.

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

You may think I love you not.

Let that appear hereafter,

and aim better at me
by that I now manifest.

For my brother,
I think he holds you well

and in dearness of heart

hath hoped to affect
your ensuing marriage,

surely suit ill spent
and labor ill bestowed.

What's the matter?
I came hither to tell you

the lady is disloyal.

Who, Hero?

Even she Leonato's Hero,

your Hero, every man's Hero.

Disloyal?

The world 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 tonight.

You shall see her chamber window

entered even the night before
her wedding day.

If you love her then,
tomorrow wed her,

but it would better fit
your honor to change your mind.

May this be so?
I will not think it.

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.

If I see anything tonight
why I should not marry her.

Tomorrow in the congregation
where I should wed,

there will I shame her.

And as I wooed
for thee to obtain her,

I will join with thee
to disgrace her.

I will disparage her no farther
until you are my witnesses.

Bear it coldly
but until midnight

and let the issue show itself.

Oh, day untowardly turned!

Oh, mischief
strangely thwarting!

Oh, plague right
well prevented!

So will you say when you
have seen the sequel.

Are you good men and true?

Yea, or else it were pity but
they should suffer salvation,

body and soul.

Nay, that were punishment
too good for them

if they should have
any allegiance in them,

being chosen
for the Prince's watch.

Well, give them their charge,
neighbor Dogberry.

First, who think you
the most desertless man

to be constable?
Hugh Otecake, sir.

Or George Seacole...
No.

...for they can write and read.

Hmm.

Come hither, Neighbor Seacole.

Hmm.

God hath blessed you
with a good name.

To be a wellfavored man
is the gift of fortune,

but to write and read
comes by nature.

Both which, Master Constable
You have.

I knew it would be your answer.

Well, for your favor, sir,
why, give God thanks,

and make no boast of it,

and for your writing
and reading, why,

let that appear when
there's 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 lantern.

This is your charge.

You shall comprehend
all vagrom men.

You are to bid any man stand,
in the Prince's name.

How if he will not stand?

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.

If he were not stand
when he is bidden,

he is none
of the Prince's subjects.

True, and they are
to meddle with none

but the Prince's subjects.

You shall also make no noise
in the streets for,

for the watch
to babble and to talk

is most tolerable
and not to be endured.

We would rather sleep
than talk.

We know what belongs to a watch.

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 stolen.

Well, you are to call
at all the alehouses

and bid those that are drunk,
get them to bed.

How if they will not?

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.

Well, sir, I believe
If you meet a thief,

you may suspect him
by the virtue of your office

to be no true man,
for such kind of man,

the less you meddle
or make with them, why,

the more is for your honesty.

If we know him to be a thief,

shall we not lay hand?

Truly by your office, you may,

but I think they that
touch pitch will be defiled.

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.

You have always been
called merciful, partner.

Well, masters, goodnight,

and if there be any manner
of weight chances, call up me.

Keep your fellow councils
and your own,

and goodnight.

Come, neighbor.

Well, masters,
we hear our charge.

Let us go sit here upon
the church bench till 2:00

and then off to bed.

Hey.

One word more,
honest neighbors.

I pray you watch about
Signor Leonato's door,

for the wedding
being there tomorrow,

there's a great coil tonight.

Adieu.

Be vigitant, I beseech you.

What Conrade?
Peace! Stir not.

Conrade, I say!
Here, man. I'm at thy elbow.

Mass, and my elbow itched.

I thought there would
a scab follow.

I will owe thee an answer
for that

and now forward with thy tale.
Stand thee close then,

and I will like a true drunkard
utter all to thee.

Some treason, masters,
yet stay close.

Therefore, know I have earned

a thousand ducats of Don John.

Is it possible any villainy
should be so dear?

Thou shouldst rather ask
if it were possible

any villainy should be so rich,

for when rich villains
have need of poor ones,

poor ones may make
what price they will.

I wonder at it.

Dost thou not hear somebody?

Nah.
'Twas the vane on the house.

Know that I have tonight
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.

And thought they Margaret
was Hero?

Two of them did,
the Prince and Claudio,

but the Devil, my master,
knew she was Margaret,

and partly by his oaths
which first possessed them,

partly by the dark night
which did deceive them,

but chiefly by my villainy

which did confirm
any slander Don John had made.

Away went Claudio, enraged,
swore he would meet her

as he was appointed next morning
at the temple,

and there,
before the whole congregation,

shame her with what
he saw o'ernight

and sent her home again
without a husband.

We charge you in
the Prince's name! Stand!

Call up the right
Master Constable!

Get

We have hereby recovered

the most dangerous
piece of lechery

that ever was known
in the commonwealth.

Masters, never speak.
We charge you.

Let us obey you to go with us.

Come.
We'll obey you.

Good Ursula!
Uhhuh?

Wake my cousin Beatrice
and desire her to rise.

I will, Lady.
And bid her come hither.

Ooh, well.
Oh.

Troth, I think your other rebato
were better.

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

By my troth, it's not so good,

and I warrant your cousin
will say so.

My cousin is a fool,
and thou art another.

Oh?
I'll wear none but this.

Ooh.

I like the new tire
within excellently,

if the hair were
a thought browner,

and your gown's a most
rare fashion, faith.

God give me joy to wear it,

for my heart is exceeding heavy.

It will be heavier soon

by the weight of a man.

Fie upon thee!

Art not ashamed?

Of what, lady?
Of speaking honorably?

Is not marriage honorable
in a beggar?

Is not your lord honorable
without marriage?

I think you would have me say,

"Saving your reverence,
a husband."

And bad thinking do not
wrest true speaking.

I'll offend nobody.

Is there any harm in
"the heavier for a husband"?

None, I think,

and it be the right husband
and the right wife.

Otherwise,
'tis light and not heavy.

Hmm.
Ask my Lady Beatrice else.

Here she comes.

Good morrow, coz!
Good morrow, sweet Hero!

Why, how now?

Do you speak in the sick tune?

'Tis almost 5:00, cousin!
Aaaaah!

'Tis time you were ready!

Ugh, by my troth,

I'm exceeding ill, heighho!

For a hawk, a horse
or a husband?

For the letter that
begins them all, H.

By my troth, I'm sick.

Get you some of this distilled
carduus benedictus

and lay it to your heart.

It is the only thing
for a qualm.

Benedictus?

Hmm.
Why benedictus?

You have some moral
in this benedictus?

Moral? No.

By my troth,
I have no moral meaning.

You may think perchance that
I think that you are in love.

Ah!
Nay, by your 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 were to 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, hmm,
Benedick was such another...

Hmm.
...and now is he become a man.

Oh, he swore
he would never marry,

and now in despite his heart,

he eats his meat
without grudging,

and how you may be converted,
I know not,

yet methinks you look with
your eyes as other women do.

What pace is this
that thy tongue keeps?

Not a false gallop.

Madam, withdraw!

The Prince, the Count,
Signor Benedick, Don John

and all the gallants of the town
are come to bid you to church!

Help to dress me, good coz,

good Meg, good Ursula.
Oh.

Come on.
Ah.

Hey, hey, hey, yeah

What would you with me,
honest neighbor?

Marry, sir, I would have
some confidence with you

that discerns you nearly.

Brief, I pray you,
for you see,

it is a busy time with me.

Marry, this it is, sir.
Yes, in truth, it is, sir.

What is it, my good friends?
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.

Yes, I thank God I am
as honest as any man living

that is an old man
and no honester than I.

Comparisons are odorous.

Palabras,

Neighbor Verges.

Neighbors, you are tedious.

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 it in my heart to
bestow it all of your worship.

All thy
tediousness on me.

I would fain know
what you have to say.

Marry, sir, our watch tonight,

excepting
Your Worship's presence,

ha' ta'en a couple
of as arrant knaves as any.

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 in faith,
Neighbor Verges.

Well, God is a good man,
and two men ride of a horse.

One must ride behind.

I must leave you.
One word, sir.

Our watch, sir,
have indeed comprehended

two auspicious persons,

and we would have them
this morning

examined before Your Worship.

Well, take their examination
yourself and bring it me.

I am now in great haste
as it may appear unto you.

It shall be suffigance.

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

My lord, they stay for you

to give your daughter
to her husband.

I'll wait upon them.
Hmm.

I am ready.

Go, good partner, go.

Get you to Francis Seacole.

Bid him bring his pen
and inkhorn.

We are now to examination
these men.

And we must do it wisely!

We will spare for no wit,
I warrant you,

only get the learned writer
to set down our excommunication.

Precious Lord

Take my hand

Lead me on

Let me stand

I am tired

I am weak

I am worn

Through the storm

Through the night

Lead me on

Through the light

Take my hand

Precious Lord

And lead me

Home

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

No.

To be married

to

her, Friar.

You

come to marry her.

Lady, you come hither to be
married to this Count?

I do.

If either of you know
any inward impediment

why you should not be conjoined,

I charge you on your souls
to utter it.

Know you any, Hero?
None, my lord.

Know you any, Count?

I dare make his answer none.

Oh, what men dare do!

What men may do!

What men daily do
not knowing what they do!

How now, interjections?

Stand thee by, Friar.

Father, by your leave,

will you with free
and unconstrained soul

give me this maid,
your daughter?

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

And what have I
to give you back

whose worth may counterpoise

this rich and precious gift?

Nothing...

unless you render her again.

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 honor.

Behold how like a maid
she blushes here.

Oh, what authority

and show of truth can cunning
sin cover itself withal!

Comes not this 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.

What do you mean, my lord?

Not to be married,

not to knit my soul
to an approved wanton.

Dear, my lord,
if you in your own proof

have vanquished
the resistance of her youth

and made defeat
of her virginity

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 a sister,

showed bashful sincerity
and comely love.

And seemed I ever otherwise
to you?

Out on thee, 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 pampered animals
that rage in savage sensuality.

Is my lord well
that he doth speak sso wide?

Sweet Prince,
why speak not you?

What should I speak?

I stand dishonored
that have gone about

to link my dear friend
to a common stale!

Are these things spoken,
or do I but dream?

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

This looks not like a nuptial.

True? Oh, God.

Leonato, stand I here?

Is this the Prince?

Is this the Prince's brother?

Is this face Hero's?
Are our eyes our own?

All of this is so,
but what of this, my lord?

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.

I charge thee to do so,
as thou art my child!

Oh, God, defend me!

How am I beset?!

What kind of catechizing
call you this?

To make you answer truly
to your name!

Is it not Hero?

Who can blot that name

with any just reproach?

Marry, that could Hero!

Hero itself can blot out
Hero's virtue!

What man was he talked with you
yesternight out at your window

betwixt 12 and 1?

Now, if you are a maiden,
answer this.

I talked with no man
at that hour, my lord.

Why then are you no maiden?

Leonato!

I am sorry you must hear.

Upon mine honor,
myself, my brother,

and this grieved Count
did see her,

hear her at that hour last night

talk with a ruffian
in her chamber window

who hath indeed,
most like a liberal villain,

confessed the vile encounters

they have had
a thousand times in secret!

Fie! Fie!

They are not to be named,
my lord, not to be spoke of.

There is not chastity enough
in language

without offense to utter them.

Thus, pretty lady,

I am sorry for
thy much misgovernment.

Oh, Hero.

What a Hero hadst thou been
if half thy outward graces

had been placed
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!

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

Oh! Why, how now, cousin?

Wherefore sink you down?

Come!
Let us go!

These things come thus to light,

smother her spirits up!

How doth the lady?

Dead, I think!

Help, Uncle!

Hero!

Why, Hero?! Uncle!

Signor Benedick!
Friar!

O Fate,
take not away thy heavy hand.

Death is the fairest cover

for her shame
that may be wished for.

Why, how now, cousin?
Have comfort, lady.

Dost thou look up?

Yea, wherefore should she not?

Wherefore?

Why doth not every earthly thing
cry shame upon her?

Could she here deny the story
that is printed in her blood?

Why ever...
wast thou lovely in mine eyes?

Why had I not
with charitable hand

took up a beggar's issue
at my gate

who smirched thus
and mired with infamy?

I might have said,
"No part of it is mine.

This shame derives itself
from unknown loins."

Stand up.

But mine,
and mine I loved,

and mine I praised,

mine that I was proud on,

mine so much that I was
to myself not mine.

Valuing of her

Why?

Oh.

She has fallen into a pit of ink

that the wide sea
hath dropped too few

to wash her clean again

and salt too little

which may season give to
her foul, tainted flesh.

Sir, sir, be patient.

For my part,
I am so attired in wonder

I know not what to say.

On my soul,
my cousin is belied!

Lady, were you her bedfellow
last night?

No, truly not,
although until last night,

I have this 12 month
been her bedfellow.

Confirmed!
Confirmed!

Oh, that is stronger made
which was before barred

with ribs of iron!

Would the two princes lie?

And Claudio lie?

Who loved her so
that speaking of her foulness

washed it with tears?

Hence from her.

Let her die.
Hear me a little,

for I have only silent been
so long

and given way unto
this course of fortune

by noting of the lady!

Trust not my age, my reverence,
calling nor divinity.

If this sweet lady lie
not guiltless here

under some biting error.
Friar, it cannot be.

Thou seest that the only grace
that she hath left is that

she 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?

Lady, what man is he
you are accused of?

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.

There is some
strange misprision

in the princes.

Two of them have
the very bent of honor,

and if their wisdoms
be misled in this,

the practice of it lives
in John the Bastard,

whose spirits toil
in frame of villainies.

I know not!

If they speak but truth of her,

these hands shall tear her,

and if they wrong her honor,

the proudest of them
shall well hear of it!

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 monuments

hang mournful epitaphs

and do all rites that appertain
unto a burial.

What shall come of this?
What will this do?

Marry, this, well carried,
shall, on her behalf,

change slander to remorse!

She dying,
as it must be so maintained,

upon the instant she was accused
shall be lamented,

pitied, and excused
of every hearer,

for it so falls out
that what we have,

we prize not to the worth
whiles we enjoy it,

but being lacked and lost,
why, then we rack the value.

Then we find the virtue that
possession would not show us

whiles it was ours,

but if all aim but this
be leveled 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.

Signor 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 honor,
I will deal in this

as secretly and justly

as your soul should
with your body.

Being that I flow in grief,
the smallest twine may lead me.

'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 prolonged.

Have patience and endure!

Lady Beatrice...

have you wept all this while?

Yea...

and I will weep a while longer.

I will not desire that.
You have no reason.

I do it freely.

Surely, I do believe
your fair cousin is wronged.

How much might the man deserve
of me that would right her?

Is there any way
to show such friendship?

A very even way,

but no such friend.

May a man do it?

It is a man's office...

but not yours.

I do love nothing in the world

so well as you.

Is not that strange?

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,
yet I lie not.

I confess nothing
nor I deny nothing.

I am sorry for my cousin.

By my sword, Beatrice,
thou lovest me.

Do not swear and eat it.

I will swear by it
that you love me,

and I will make him eat it
that says I love not you.

Will you not eat your word?

With no sauce that
can be devised to it,

I protest, I love thee.

Why then, God, forgive me.

What offense, sweet Beatrice?

You have stayed me
in a happy hour.

I was about to protest that...

I loved you.

And do it with all thy heart.

I love you with so much
of my heart

that none is left to protest.

Come.

Bid me do anything for thee.

Kill Claudio.

Ha, not for the wide world.

You kill

me

to deny it.
Farewell!

Tarry, sweet Beatrice.
I am gone, though I am here.

There is no love in you.
Nay, let me go.

Beatrice
In faith, I will go.

We'll be friends first.
You dare easier be friends

with me than fight
with mine enemy?

Is Claudio thine enemy?
Is he not approved

in the height of villain

that has slandered, scorned,
dishonored my kinswoman?

Oh, that I were a man.

What bear her in hand
until they come to take hands

and then with public accusation,
uncovered slander,

unmitigated rancor...
Oh, God that I were a man,

I would eat his heart
in the marketplace.

Hear me, Beatrice
Talk with a man out a window.

A proper saying.
Nay, but, Beatrice

Sweet Hero, she is wronged.
She is slandered.

She is undone.
Beatrice

Oh, that I were a man
for his sake!

Or that I had any friend

would be man for my sake.

But manhood is melted
into curtsies,

valor into compliment,

and men are only turned
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 a die a woman
with grieving.

Tarry, good Beatrice.

By this hand, I love thee.

Use it for my love
some other way

than swearing by it.

Think you in your soul
the Count Claudio

hath wronged Hero?
Yea!

As sure as I have a thought
or a soul.

Enough.

I am engaged.

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.

Is our whole dissembly
appeared?

Oh, a stool for the sexton.

Which be the malefactors?

Marry, that am I
and my partner.

Nay, that's certain.

We have the exhibition
to examine.

But which are the offenders
that are to be examined?

Let them come before
Master Constable.

Yea, marry,
let them come before me.

What is your name, friend?

Borachio.

Hmm.

Pray, write down Borachio.

Yours, sirrah?

I am a gentleman, sir,
and my name is Conrade.

Write down,
Master

Gentleman

Conrade.

Masters, do you serve God?

Yea, sir.
We hope.

Write down 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?
Marry, sir, we say we are none.

A marvelous 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
that you are false knaves.

Sir, I say to you, we are none.

Well, stand aside.

'Fore God,
they are both in a tale.

Have you writ down
that they are none?

Master Constable, you go
not the way to examine.

You must call forth the watch
that are their accusers.

Yea, marry!

That's the eftest way.

Let the watch come forth.

Masters, I charge you
in the prince's name,

accuse these men.

This man said, sir,
that Don John,

the prince's brother,
was a villain.

Write down Prince John
a villain.

Why, that is flat perjury to
call a prince's brother villain.

Master Constable?
Pray thee, fellow, peace.

I do not like thy look,
I promise thee.

What heard you him say else?

Marry, that he had received
a thousand ducats of Don John

for accusing the Lady Hero
wrongfully.

What else, fellow?

And that Count Claudio

did mean upon his words
to disgrace Hero

before the whole assembly
and not marry her.

Oh, villain!

That wilt be condemned
into everlasting redemption

for this.

What else?
This is all.

And this is more, masters,
than you can deny.

Prince John is this morning
secretly stolen away.

Hero was in this manner accused,
in this very manner refused,

and upon the grief of it
suddenly died.

Master Constable,
let these men be bound

and brought to Leonato's.

I will go before and show him
their examination.

The stool!

Come.

Let them be opinioned.

Off, coxcomb!

Oh, God's my life.

Where's the sexton?

Let him write down
the prince's officer "coxcomb."

Come, bind them up,
thou naught varlet!

Away! You are an ass!

Dost thou not suspect my place?

Dost thou not suspect my years?

Oh, 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.

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.

And one that knows the law,
go to.

And a rich fellow enough, go to,

and a fellow
that hath had losses.

Bring him away!

Oh, that I had been
writ down an ass!

Ha!

If you go on thus,

you will kill yourself.

And 'tis not wisdom thus to

second grief against yourself.

I pray thee, cease thy counsel
which falls into mine ears

as profitless
as water in a sieve.

For, brother, men can counsel
and speak comfort to that grief

which they themselves not feel.

But tasting it,
their counsel turns to passion,

which before would give
preceptial medicine to rage.

Fetter strong madness
in a silken thread,

charm ache with air,

and agony with words.

No.

No!

'Tis all men's office
to speak patience

to those that wring
under the load of sorrow,

but no man's virtue
nor sufficiency to be so moral

when he shall endure
the like himself.

Therefore, give me no counsel.

My griefs cry louder
than advertisement.

Therein do men from children
nothing differ.

I pray thee peace.

I will be flesh and blood.

For there was never
yet philosopher

that could endure
the toothache patiently.

Yet bend not all the harm
upon yourself.

Make those that do offend you
suffer, too.

There, thou speak'st reason.

Nay, I will do so.

My soul doth tell me
that Hero is belied.

That shall Claudio know,
and so shall the Prince,

and all of them
that thus dishonor her.

Here comes the Prince
and Claudio, hastily.

Good e'en. Good e'en.
Good day to both of you.

Hear you, my lords
We have some haste, Leonato.

Some haste, my lord?
Well, fare you well, my lord.

Are you so hasty now?

Well, all is one.

Nay, do not quarrel with us,
good old man.

If he could right himself
with quarreling,

some of us would lie low.

Who wrongs him?
Marry, thou dost wrong me,

thou dissembler, thou.

Nay, never lay thy hand
upon thy sword.

I fear thee not!
Marry, beshrew my hand

if it should give your age
such cause of fear.

In faith, my hand meant
nothing to my sword.

Tush, tush, man!

Never fleer and jest at me.

I speak not like a dotard
or a fool.

As under privilege of age

to brag what I have done
being young,

or what would do were I not old.

Know, Claudio, to thy head,

thou hast so wronged
mine innocent child and me

that I am forced
to lay my reverence by.

And with gray hairs...

...and bruise of many days

do challenge thee to trial
of a man.

I say thou hast belied
my innocent child.

Thy slander hath gone through
and through her heart.

And she lies buried
with her ancestors in a tomb

where never yet scandal slept.

Save this of hers,
framed be thy villainy.

My villainy?
Thine, Claudio.

Thine, I say.
You say not right, old man.

My lord, my lord.

I'll prove it on his body
if he dare.

Away!
I will not have to do with you.

Thou hast killed my child!

If thou kills me, boy,

thou shalt kill a man!

He shall kill two of us!

Come, sir boy, come!

Follow me.

Sir boy, I'll whip you
from your foining fence.

Nay, as I am a gentleman,
I will.

Brother
Content yourself.

God knows I loved my niece,

and she is dead,

slandered to death by villains

that dare as well
answer a man indeed

as I dare take a serpent
by the tongue.

Boys, apes, braggarts,

Jacks, milksops!

Brother Anthony!

Come, 'tis no matter.

Do not you meddle.
Let me deal in this.

Gentlemen, both, we will
not wake your patience.

My heart is sorry
for your daughter's death,

but on my honor,
she was charged with nothing

but what was true
and very full of proof!

My lord
I will not hear you.

No?!

Brother, come away.

I will be heard.

And shall!

or some of us will smart for it.

See? See?

Here comes the man
we went to seek.

Now, signior, what news?
Good day, my lord.

Welcome, signior.

You are almost come to part
almost a fray.

We had like to have had
our two noses snapped off

by two old men without teeth.

Leonato and his brother,
what think'st thou?

Had we fought, I doubt we should
have been too young for them.

In a false quarrel,
there is no true valor.

I came to seek you both.

We have been up and down
to seek thee,

for we are highproof melancholy

and would fain
have it beaten away.

Wilt thou use thy wit?

It is in my scabbard.

Shall I draw it?

Dost thou wear thy wit
by thy side?

Never any did so,

though very many have been
beside their wit.

I will bid thee draw.

Draw to pleasure us.

As I am an honest man,
he looks dark.

Art thou sick or angry?
What courage, man!

Sir, I pray you choose
another subject.

By this light,
I think he be angry indeed.

Shall I speak a word
in your ear?

God bless me from a challenge.

You are a villain!
I jest not.

I will make it good how you dare
with what you dare

and when you dare.

Do me right,

or I will protest
your cowardice.

You have killed a sweet lady,

and her death shall
fall heavy on you!

Let me hear from you.

Well, I will meet you
so I may have good cheer.

Fare you well, boy.

You know my mind.

I will leave you now
to your gossiplike humor.

You break jests as braggarts
do their blades,

which, God be thanked, hurt not.

My lord,
for your many courtesies,

I thank you.

I must discontinue your company.

Your brother, the bastard,
is fled.

You have among you killed
a sweet, innocent lady.

For my Lord Lackbeard there,
he and I shall meet.

Till then...

peace be with him.

He is in earnest.
In most profound earnest,

and I'll warrant you
for the love of Beatrice.

And hath challenged thee.
Most sincerely!

But soft you, let me be.

Did he not say my brother
was fled?

Come you, sir.
How now?

Two of my brother's men bound,
Borachio one!

Hearken after their offense,
my lord.

Officers, what offense
have these men done?

Marry, sir, they have
committed false report.

Moreover, they have
spoken untruths.

Secondarily, they are slanders.

Sixth and lastly,
they have belied a lady.

Thirdly, they have verified
unjust things.

And to conclude,
they are lying knaves!

First, I ask thee,
what they have done.

Thirdly, I ask thee,
what's their offense?

Sixth and lastly,
why they are committed.

And to conclude,
what you lay to their charge.

Who have you offended, masters,

that you are thus bound
to your answer?

This learned constable is
too cunning to be understood.

What's you're offense?!

Sweet Prince, let me go
no farther to mine answer.

Do you hear me
and let this count kill me?

For I have deceived
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, incensed me
to slander the Lady Hero

how you were brought
into the orchard

and saw me court Margaret
in Hero's garments,

how you disgraced 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.

Runs not this speech like
iron through your blood?

I have drunk poison
whilst he uttered it.

But did my brother
set thee on to this?

Yea, and paid me richly
for the practice of it.

He is composed
and framed of treachery,

and fled he is
upon this villainy.

Sweet Hero,

now thy image doth appear
in the rare semblance

that I loved it first.

Come, bring away
the plaintiffs.

By this time,
our sexton hath reformed

Signior Leonato of the matter.

And, masters,
do not forget to specify,

when time and place shall serve,
that I am an ass!

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?

If you would know your wronger,
look on me.

Art thou the slave that

with thy breath

hast killed mine innocent child?

Yea, even I alone.

No, not so, villain.

Thou belie'st 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.

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 sinned I not
but in mistaking.

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.

I cannot bid you bid
my daughter live.

That were impossible.

But I pray you both possess
the people here

how innocent she died.

And if your love can labor ought
in sad invention,

hang her an epitaph
upon her tomb

and sing it to her bones.

Sing it tonight!

Tomorrow morning,
come you to my house.

And since you could not
be my soninlaw,

be yet my nephew.

My brother hath a daughter,

almost the copy of my child...

that's dead.

She alone is heir to both of us.

Give her the right you should
have given her cousin,

and so dies my revenge.

Oh, noble sir!

Your overkindness doth
wring tears from me.

I do embrace your offer

and dispose for henceforth
of poor Claudio.

Tomorrow then,
I expect your coming.

Tonight, I take my leave.

This naughty man

shall facetoface
be brought to Margaret,

who I believe was packed in
all this wrong,

hired to it by your brother.

No, by my soul, she was not,

nor knew not what she did
when she spoke to me,

but always hath been
just and virtuous

in anything that
I do know by her.

Moreover, sir,
this plaintiff here,

the offender, did call me ass.

I beseech you,
let it be remembered

in his punishment.

I thank thee for thy care
and honest pain.

Your worship speaks like a most
thankful and reverent youth,

and I praise God for you.

There's for thy pain.

God save the foundation.

Go!

I discharge thee
of thy prisoner,

and I thank thee.

I leave an arrant knave
with your worship,

which I would
beseech your worship

to correct yourself
for the example of others.

God keep your worship!

I wish your worship well.

God restore you to health!

I humbly give you
leave to depart,

and if a merry meeting
may be wished,

God prohibit it!

Come, neighbor.

Until tomorrow morning,
my lords, fare you well.

Farewell, my lords.

We'll look for you tomorrow.
We will not fail.

Tonight, I'll mourn with Hero.

Bring you these fellows on.

We'll talk with Margaret
how her acquaintance grew

with this lewd fellow.

Na, na, na

Na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na

Na, na, na, na

Na, na

N No!

No, no

No, no, no, no, no, no

No, no, no, no

No, no, no, no, no, no, no

No, no, no, no, no

No, no, no, no, no, no

Pray thee,
sweet Mistress Margaret.

Deserve well at my hands
by helping me

to the speech of Beatrice.

Will you then write

me

a sonnet
in praise of

my

beauty?

In so high a style, Margaret,

that no man living
shall come over it,

for in most comely truth,
thou deservest it.

To have no man come over me!

Why, shall I always
keep below stairs?

Thy wit is as quick
as the greyhound's mouth.

It catches.

And yours as blunt
as the fencer's foils,

which hit but hurt not.

A most manly wit, Margaret.

It will not hurt a woman.

And so, I pray thee,

call Beatrice.

Okay.

Oh, oh, oh

Oh, don't you love,
don't you love me no more

Know that I'm fire

Stop playing

Know you can't let me go

Why you saying
your love is expired?

I can tell when you're lying

I know how you feel

Yeah, I know

Stop singing
all those sad songs

Come and get this
glad song, baby

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, ney, ney

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na

Mm, you know you
love me, baby

Baby, baby, baby, baby

Lady, lady, lady, lady

I'm your fool

I'm your fool

I'm your fool

In school?

I mean in singing,
but in loving,

Leander the good swimmer,

Troilus,
the first employer of panders

and a whole bookful
of those quondam carpetmongers

whose names yet run smoothly in
the even road of a blank verse.

Why, they were never
so truly turned over and over

as my poor self in love.

Marry, I cannot
show it in rhyme.

I have tried.

I can find out no rhyme
to "lady" but "baby,"

an innocent rhyme;

for "scorn," "horn,"
a hard rhyme;

for "school," "fool,"

a babbling rhyme,

very ominous endings.

No, I was not born
under a rhyming planet,

nor I cannot woo
in festival terms.

Sweet Beatrice?

Wouldst thou come
when I called thee?

Yes, signior,
and depart when you bid me.

Ooh!

Stay but till then!
Then is spoken.

Fare you well now.

And yet, ere I go,

let me go with that I came,

which is in knowing what hath
passed between you and Claudio.

Only foul words.

And thereupon,

I will kiss thee.
Mnmmnm.

Foul words is but foul wind,

and fould wind
is but foul breath,

and foul breath is noisome.

Therefore,
I will depart unkissed.

Thou hast frighted the word
out of his right sense,

so forcible is thy wit.

But I must tell thee plainly,

Claudio undergoes my challenge.

And either I must
shortly hear from him,

or I will subscribe him
a coward.

And now, I pray thee, tell me,

for which of my bad parts

didst thou first fall in love
with me?

For them all together,

which maintained so politic

a state of evil
that they will not admit

any good part
to intermingle with them.

But for which of my...

good parts did thy first
suffer love for me?

Suffer love!
A good epithet!

I do suffer love indeed,
for I love thee against my will.

In spite of your heart,
I think.

Alas, poor heart,
if you spite it for my sake,

I will spite it for yours,

for I will never love
that which my friend hates.

Thou and I are too wise
to woo peaceably.

Now tell me,
how doth your cousin?

Very ill.

And how do you?

Very ill, too.

Serve God,

love me,

and mend.
Madam!

There will I leave you,
for here comes one in haste.

Oh, Madam, you

Madam?

Madam!

You must come to your uncle.

It has been proved, my Lady Hero
hath been falsely accused,

the Prince and Claudio
mightily abused,

and Don John
is the author of all,

who is fled and gone.

Will you come presently?

Will you go hear this news,
Signior?

I will live in thy heart,
die in thy lap,

and be be buried in thy eyes.

And moreover, I will go
with thee to thy uncle's.

Is this the monument
of Leonato?

It is, my lord.

Done to death
by slanderous tongues

was the Hero that here lies.

Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,

gives her fame which never dies,

so the life
that died with shame,

lives in death
with glorious fame.

Hang thou there upon the tomb,

praising her when I am dumb.

Now, music, sound,

and sing your solemn hymn.

Ooh

Oohhoo

Ooh
Mmhmm

Oh, please,
goddess of the night

Please forgive these men
who took your child

They come before you now
to sing for her

0 So come and show us how

Teach us what to say
Teach us what to say

To make things right
with those who passed away

Ooh
Take us by the head

Take us by the head

And help us when
It's hard to understand

Guide us

Guide us

Speak to us
and teach us how to live

Show us what love is

But most of all, forgive

Oh

But most of all, forgive

Now, unto thy bones,
good night!

Yearly will I do this rite.

Good morrow, masters.

Thanks to you all, and leave us.

Fare you well.

Good morrow, masters,

each his several way.

Come, let us hence

and put on other weeds,

and then to Leonato's
we will go.

And Hymen now
with luckier issue speeds

than this for whom
we rendered up this woe.

Did I not tell you
she was innocent?

So, are the prince and Claudio,

who accused her upon the error
which you heard debated.

But Margaret
was in some fault for this,

although against her will
as it appears

in the true course
of all the question.

Well, I am glad
all things sort so well.

And so am I,

being else by faith enforced
to call young Claudio

to a reckoning for it.

Well, daughter,
and gentlewomen all,

withdraw you into a chamber
by yourselves.

And when I send for you,
come hither masked.

The Prince and Claudio
have promised upon this hour

to visit me.

Brother, you know your office.

You must be father
to your brother's daughter

and give her to young Claudio.

Which I will do
with confirmed countenance.

Friar, I must entreat
your pains, I think.

To do what, Signior?

To bind me or undo me,
one of them.

Signior Leonato,
truth it is, good Signior.

Your niece regards me
with an eye of favor.

That eye my daughter lent her,
'tis most true.

And I do with an eye of love
requite her.

The sight whereof
I believe you had from me,

the Prince, and Claudio,
but what's your will?

Your answer, sir,
is enigmatical.

But for my will,

my will is your goodwill
may stand with ours,

this day, to be conjoined

in the state of honorable

m

In the state of honorable...

m

Marriage.

In which, good Friar,
I shall desire your help.

My heart is with your liking.

And my heart.

Here comes the Prince
and Claudio.

Good morrow
to this fair assembly.

Good morrow, count.
Good morrow, Claudio.

We here attend you.

Are you yet determined
today to marry

with my brother's daughter?

I'll hold my mind.
Brother, call her forth.

Here's the Friar, ready.

Good morrow, Benedick.

Why, what's the matter that
you have such a February face,

so full of frost, of storm,
and cloudiness?

Here comes other reck'nings.

Today I'll make a promise

To share with you my life

Everything I give to you

For I am yours
and you are mine

Where you go, I will go

Knowing you'll be by my side

I will leave
the world behind

No matter where you are,
remember

I'll never be too far away

And when the good times
turn to bad times

Know that my heart
will still remain

And as the days
turn to years

To years
My love will never change

Oh

And my heart belongs
to only you

No matter where you are,
remember

I'll never be too far away

And when the good times
turn to bad times

Know that my heart
will still remain

And as the days
turn to years

To years
My love will never change

And my heart belongs
to only you

Always

Only you

Always

Which is the lady
I must seize upon?

Mnmmnm, mm.

This same is she,
and I do give you her.

Why, then she's mine.

Sweet, let me see your face.

No!

That you shall not
till you take her hand

before this friar
and swear to marry her.

Give me your hand
before this holy friar.

I am your husband,
if you like of me.

And when I lived,
I was your other wife.

And when you loved,
you were my other husband.

Another Hero!
Nothing certainer.

One Hero died defiled,
but I do live.

And surely as I live,
I am a maiden.

The former Hero,

Hero that is dead!

She died my lord,
but whiles her slander lived.

All this amazement
can I qualify

when after that
the holy rites are ended,

I'll tell you largely
of fair Hero's death.

Meantime,
let wonder seem familiar

and to the chapel,
let us presently.

Oh! Soft and fair, friar.

Which is Beatrice?

I answer to that name.
What is your will?

Do not you love me?

Why no.

No more than reason.

Why then, your uncle,

the prince, and Claudio
have been deceived.

They swore you did.
Do not

you

love

me?

Troth, nah.

No more than reason.

Why, then my cousin, Margaret,
and Ursula are much deceived,

for they did swear you did.

They swore you were
almost sick for me.

They swore you were
wellnigh dead for me.

'Tis no such matter.

Then you...
do

not

love me?

No!

But truly,
in friendly recompense.

Come, cousin, I am sure
you love the gentleman.

And I'll be sworn upon't
that he loves her,

for here's a paper written
in his hand...

Aye, oh!
...a halting sonnet

of his own pure brain

fashioned to Beatrice.

And here's another,

writ in my cousin's hand,

stolen from her pocket,

containing her affection
unto Benedick.

A miracle!

Here's our own hands
against our hearts.

Come.

I will have thee,

but by this light,
I take thee for pity.

I would not deny you,

but by this good day,
I yield upon great persuasion,

and partly to save your life,

for I was told you
were in a consumption.

Peace!

I will stop your mouth.

How dost thou, Benedick,
the married man?

In brief,
since I do purpose to marry,

I will think nothing
to any purpose

that the world
can say against it.

And therefore, never flout at me
for what I have said against it.

For man is a giddy thing,

and this is my conclusion.

Claudio, for thy part,

I did think to have beaten thee,

but in that thou art like
to be my kinsman...

live unbruised

and love my cousin.

I had well hoped thou
would have denied Beatrice

that I might have cudgeled thee
out of thy single life

to make thee a doubledealer,

which, out of question,
thou wilt be if my cousin do not

look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Come, come!
We are friends.

Let us have a dance
ere we are married,

that we might lighten
our own hearts

and our wives' heels.

We'll have dancing afterwards.

First, of my word!

Prince, thou art sad.

Get thee a wife.

Get thee a wife!

My lord, your brother John
is taken in flight

and brought with armed men back.

Think not on him till tomorrow.

I'll devise
the brave punishments

for him.

Strike up!

Girl, you don't know
nothing about this.

Alright.

Slide to the left

Slide to the right

Now back it up twice

Now back it up twice

Slide to the left

Slide to the right

Now back it up twice

Now back it up!

Now back it up twice

Twirl that thing around

Twirl that thing around

Giddy on up and jump

Giddy on up and jump

Twirl that thing around

Twirl that thing around

Giddy on up and jump

Giddy on up and jump

Slide to the left

Slide to the right

Now back it up twice

Now back it up twice

Slide to the left

Slide to the right

Now back it up twice

Now back it up twice

Twirl that thing around

Oh!

Formation!

Formation!

Hunh!

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Right, oh, left

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Right, oh, left

Forward march!

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Right, oh, left

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Forward march!

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Right, oh, left

Left, right, left, right,
oh, left, right, left

Right, oh, left

Lift every voice and sing

Till Earth and heaven ring

Ring with the harmonies

Of liberty

For the Father

We don't need to escalate

War is not the answer

Only love can conquer hate

But we've got to find a way

To bring some loving

Some loving here today

Oh, what's going on?

What's going on?

What's going on?