All language subtitles for Much.Ado.About.Nothing.2011.WEBRip.x264-RARBG

I learn in this letter

that Don Pedro of arragon
comes this night to messina.

He is very near by this. He was
not three leagues off when I left him.

How many gentlemen
have you lost in this action?

But few of any sort,
and none of name.

A victory is twice itself,

when the achiever
brings home full numbers.

I find here that Don Pedro
hath bestowed much honour

on a young florentine
called Claudio.

Much deserved on his part, and
equally remembered by Don Pedro.

He hath borne himself
beyond the promise of his age,

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

He hath indeed better
bettered expectation

than you must expect
of me to tell you how.

I pray you, is signior
mountanto returned from the war 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 of padua.

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.

You had musty vittles,
he hath helped to eat them.

He's a very Valiant trencherman,
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
honourable virtues.

It is so indeed, he is no
less then a stuffed man,

but for the stuffing
well... we are all mortal.

You must not, sir,
mistake my niece.

There is a kind of merry war
betwixt signior benedick and her,

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

Alas, he gets nothing by that.

In our last conflict, four of
his five wits went halting off.

Now is the whole
man governed with one.

Who is his companion now? He
hath every month a new sworn brother.

Is't possible? Very
easily possible.

He wears his faith but
as the fashion of his hat,

it ever changes
with the next block.

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,

will make a voyage
with him to the devil?

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

O, lord!

He will hang upon
him like a disease.

He is sooner caught
than the pestilence,

and the taker
runs presently mad.

God help the noble Claudio. If
he have caught the benedick.

It will cost him a thousand
pound ere he be cured.

I will hold
friends with you, lady.

Do. Ooh!

Good friend. Leonato:
You'll never run mad, niece.

No, not till a hot January.
Ah! Don Pedro is approached.

Ahoy!

Good signior leonato,
you are 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.

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.
Truly the lady fathers herself.

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

If signior
leonato be her father,

she would not have his head
on her shoulders for all messina,

as like him as 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,

when she hath such meet food
to feed it as signior benedick?

Courtesy itself must convert to
disdain if you come in her presence.

Then is courtesy a turncoat.

But it is certain I am
loved of all ladies,

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 humour for that.

I had rather hear
my dog bark at a crow

than a man swear he loves me.

God keep your
ladyship still in that mind,

so some gentleman or other shall
scape a predestinate scratched face.

Scratching could
not make it worse

if t'were such a
face as yours were.

Well, you are a rare parrot.

A 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 way in god's
name, I have done.

You always end
with a Jade's trick.

I know you of old.

This is the sum of all.
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.

Don John,
let me bid you welcome,

being reconciled to the prince,
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? We will go together.

Benedick, didst thou 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 custom,

as being a professed
tyrant to their sex?

No, I pray thee, speak
in sober judgement.

Why?

I'faith, methinks she's
too tall for a great praise...

Too brown for a fair praise,

and too lean for a large praise, 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 think'st I am in sport.

I pray thee, tell me
truly how thou lik'st her.

Would you buy her,
that you inquire after her?

Can the world buy
such a Jewel? Yeah!

And a case to put it into.

But speak you this
with a sad brow?

Come, in what key shall a
man take you to go in the song?

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.

Is't come to this?

Shall I never see a bachelor
of three score again?

I'faith, if thou wilt needs
thrust thy neck into a yoke,

wear the print of it and
sigh away sundays, go to.

What secret hath held
you here, that you followed not?

I would, your
grace would constrain me to tell.

I charge thee on thy allegiance.

You hear, count Claudio? I
can be secret as a dumb man,

I'd have you think so,
but on my allegiance...

Mark you this,
"on my allegiance".

He is in love.

With who? Now that
is your grace's part.

Mark how short his answer is...

With hero, leonato's
long daughter.

If this were so, so were it
uttered. 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, I speak mine.

And by my two faiths
and troths, I speak 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 that I will have a recheat
winded in my forehead,

or hang my bugle in an invisible
baldrick, 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.

And the fine is, for
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 balladmaker's pen.

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.

If I do, hang me in
a bottle, like a cat...

And shoot at me.

Well, as time shall try.

"In time, the savage
bull doth bear the yoke."

The savage bull may, but if
ever the sensible benedick bear it,

pluck off the bull's horns
and set them in my forehead,

and let me be vilely painted, and
in such great letters as they write,

"here is good horse to hire,"
let them signify under my sign:

"Here you may see
benedick the married man."

In the mean time, 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.

I have almost matter enough
in me for such an embassage,

and so I commit you...

"To the tuition of god.
From my house, if I had it..."

"6th July. Your loving
friend, benedick."

Nay, mock not, mock not,

the body of your discourse is
sometime guarded with fragments.

And the guards are but
slightly basted on neither.

Ere you flout old ends any
further, examine your conscience.

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?

O 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 warthoughts
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.

Wast not to this end that thou
beganst to twist so fine a story?

How sweetly you
do minister to love,

that know love's grief
by his complexion!

But lest my liking
might too sudden seem,

I would have salved it
with a longer treatise.

What need the bridge
much broader then the flood?

The fairest Grant
is the necessity.

Look, what will serve is
fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest,

and I will fit thee
with the remedy.

I know we shall
have revelling tonight.

I will assume thy
part in some disguise

and tell fair hero
that I am Claudio,

and in her bosom,
I'll unclasp my heart

and take her hearing
prisoner 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.

In practice let us
put it presently.

How now wife, where's
balthasar? Hath he provided the music?

He is very busy about it.

But, husband, I can tell you
news that you yet dreamt not of.

Are they good? They
show well outward.

I overheard the prince discover to
Claudio that he loved our daughter,

and means to acknowledge
it this night, in a dance.

The prince?

If he finds her accordant,

he means to take the
present time by the top,

and instantly
break with you of it.

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

But we will acquaint
our daughter withal,

that she may be the better
prepared for an answer,

if peradventure this be
true. Go you, and tell her of it.

Ah, balthasar, you know
what you have to do.

I cry you mercy, Titus, go you
with me and I will use your skill.

Yea! Have a care this busy time.

What the goodyear, my lord?
Why are you thus out of measure sad?

There is no measure in
the occasion that breeds,

therefore sadness is without
limit. You should hear reason.

And when I've heard it,
what blessing brings it?

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

I wonder that goest about
to apply a moral medicine

to a mortifying mischief.

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,

laugh when I am merry, and
claw no man in his humour.

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 root,

but by the fair weather
you make yourself.

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

I'd rather be a canker in a
hedge, than a Rose in his grace.

And it better fits my
blood to be disdained of all,

than to fashion a carriage
to Rob love from any.

In this, though I cannot be said
to be a flattering honest man,

it must not be denied but,
I am a plain dealing villain.

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

therefore I 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 will 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, and who...
and who, which way looks he?

Marry on hero, the
daughter and heir of leonato.

A very forward marchchick.
How came you to this?

I overheard 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.

Their cheer is the
greater that I am subdued.

Would the cook were of my mind.

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
am 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,

the other too like my lady's
eldest son, evermore tattling.

Then half signior benedick's
tongue in count John's mouth,

and half count John's melancholy
in 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 good will.

By my troth niece, thou
wilt never get a husband

if thou be so shrewd of thy
tongue. In faith she's too curst.

Too curst is more than curst,

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

god sends a curst cow short horns,
but to a cow too curst he sends none.

So, by being too curst,
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'd rather lie in the woollen.

You may light upon 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 then a man,

and he that is more then
a youth, is not for me.

And he that is less then
a man, I am not for him.

Therefore, I shall even take
sixpence in earnest of the bearkeeper,

and lead his apes into hell.

Well then, go you into
hell? No, but to the gate.

And there will the devil
meet me like an old cuckold

with horns on his
head, and say...

"Get you to heaven, Beatrice!"

"O, get you to heaven."

"Here's 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 we live as
merry as the day is long.

Well daughter, 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." Yet for all that, cousin,

let him be a handsome fellow,
or else make an other curtsy,

and say, "father,
as it please me."

Well, niece, I hope to see you
one day fitted with a husband.

Not till god make men of
some other metal then earth.

Would it not grieve a woman

to be overmastered by
a piece of Valiant dust?

To make account of her life
to a clod of wayward marl?

No uncle, I'll none. Adam's
sons are my brethren,

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

Daughter, remember
what I told you,

if the prince do solicit in that
kind, you know your answer.

The fault will
be in the music, cousin,

if you be not wooed in good
time. If the prince be too important,

tell him there is
measure in everything,

and so dance out the answer.

For hear me, hero, wooing,
wedding, and repenting,

is as scotch jig, a
measure, and a cinquepace.

The first suite is
all hot and hasty

like a scotch jig,

and full as fantastical.

The wedding mannerly,

modest as a measure,
full of state and ancientry.

And then comes repentance.

And with his bad legs
falls into the cinquepace,

faster and faster, till
he sinks into his grave.

Cousin, you apprehend
passing shrewdly.

I have a good eye, uncle, I
can see a church by daylight.

The revellers are
entering, make good room.

♪ Who is hero? What is she?
That all our swains commend her?

♪ Holy, fair and wise is she
that heaven grace did lend her

♪ is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness

♪ love doth to her eyes repair
to save him from his blindness

♪ then let the music
play let the music play

♪ let the music play
let the music play...?

Come on!

♪ ..And to hero let us
sing for hero is a wonder

♪ who warrants every thing
that tears our hearts asunder

♪ and to hero let us
sing for hero is a wonder

♪ who warrants every thing
that tears our hearts asunder

♪ to hero! ♪

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 favour.

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,
the clerk is answered.

I know you well enough,
you are my husband.

At a word, I am not.

I know you by the
waggling of your head.

To tell you true,
I counterfeit him.

You could not do him so ill well,
unless you were the very man.

Here's his dry hand up and
down. You are he, you are he.

Will you not tell
me who told you so?

No, you shall pardon me.

Nor will you not tell
me who are you?

Not now. That I was disdainful,

and that I had my good wit
out of the hundred merry tales.

Well, this was signior
benedick that said so.

Ooh! What's he? I am sure
you know him well enough.

Not I, believe me.

Did he never make you
laugh? I pray you, what is he?

Why he is the prince's Jester.

A very dull fool.

His only gift is in devising
impossible slanders.

None but libertines
delight in him,

and the commendation is
not in his wit, but in his villainy,

for he both pleaseth
men and angers them,

and then they laugh
at him, and beat him.

I am sure he is in the fleet.
I would he had boarded me.

When I know the gentleman,
I'll tell him what you say.

Do, do, he'll but break a
comparison or two on me,

which peradventure, not
marked, or not laughed at,

strikes him into melancholy, and
then there's a partridge wing saved,

for the fool will eat
no supper that night.

We must follow the leaders.

Ah!

Sure my brother
is amorous on hero,

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

Are not you signior benedick?

Och! You know me well, I am he.

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

He is enamoured 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 he swore
he'd marry with her tonight.

Come, let us to the banquet.

Thus answer I in
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.

This is an accident of hourly
proof, which I mistrusted not.

Farewell therefore, hero.

Count Claudio! Yea, the same.

Come, will you go
with me? Whither?

Even to the next Willow,
about your own business, count.

What fashion will you
wear the garland of?

About your neck
like a usurer's chain?

Or 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.

Why, that's spoken like an
honest drover, so they sell bullocks.

Did you think the prince
would have served you thus?

I pray you leave me.

Hey, now you strike
like the blindman.

'Twas the boy that stole
your meat, you'll beat the post.

If it will not be,
I'll leave you.

Alas, poor hurt fowl, now
will he creep into sedges.

But that my lady Beatrice
should know me, and not know me.

The prince's fool! Hah?

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

Yeah? But, so...

I am 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.

Right?

Now, signior, where's
the count, did you see him?

My lord, I told him, and
I think I told him true,

that your grace hath
got the will of his hero.

And I offered him my
company to a Willow tree,

either to make him a
garland, as being forsaken,

or to bind him 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 bird's nest,

shows it his companion,
and he steals it.

Wilt thou make 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 bird's 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.

The lady Beatrice
hath a quarrel to you.

The gentleman who danced with
her said she is much wronged by you.

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

An oak but with one green leaf
on it would have answered her,

my very visor began to
assume life and scold with her.

She told me, not thinking
I had been myself...

That I was the prince's Jester.

And that I was duller
than a great thaw,

huddling jest upon jest, with such
impossible conveyance upon me,

that I stood like a man at a Mark,
with a whole army shooting at me.

She speaks poniards,
and every word stabs.

If her breath were as
terrible as her terminations,

there were no living near her,
she would infect to the north star.

I would not marry her,

though she were endowed
with all that Adam had left him,

before he transgressed, she would
have made Hercules have turn the spit,

yea, and have cleft his
club to make a fire too.

Come, talk not of her.

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 follow her.

Oh, look, here she comes.

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 toothpicker
now from the furthest inch of Asia.

Bring you the length
of prester John's foot.

Fetch you a hair off
the great cham's beard.

Do you any embassage
to the pigmies.

Rather then endure three
words conference with this harpy.

You have no employment for me?

None, but to desire
your good company.

O, god. Sir, here's
a dish I love not,

I cannot endure my lady tongue.

Oh...

Come, lady. Come.

You have lost the
heart of signior benedick.

Indeed, my lord, he
lent it me a while...

And I gave him use for it, a
double heart for a single one.

Marry, once before he
won it off 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.

So I would not he
should do me, my lord,

lest I should prove
the mother of fools.

I have brought you count
Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.

Oooh!

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.

I'faith lady, I think
your blazon to be true,

though 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.

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 my self for you,
and dote upon the exchange.

Oh, 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...

And I am sunburned.

I may sit in a corner and
cry, "heigh ho for a husband."

Lady Beatrice, I
will get you one.

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

Hath your grace ne'er
a brother like you?

Your father got excellent husbands,
if only a maid could come by them.

Will you have me, lady?

No!

My lord, unless I might have
another one for workingdays!

Your grace is too
costly to wear every day!

Ssh!

But I beseech your
grace pardon me.

I was 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.

But then there was a star
danced, and under that was I born.

Cousins, 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's little of the melancholy
element in her, my lord,

she is never sad but when she
sleeps, and 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.

O, by no means, she mocks
all her wooers out of suit.

She were an excellent
wife for benedick.

O lord, my lord, if
they were but a week married,

they would talk themselves mad.

How now, Claudio.

When means you to go to
church? Tomorrow, my lord.

Time goes on crutches
till love have all his rites.

Not till Monday, my dear
son, and a time too brief, too,

to have all things
ask for, 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' labours

which is to bring signior
benedick and the lady Beatrice

into a mountain of affection,
the one with the other.

I fain would have it a match,
and I doubt not but to fashion it,

if you all minister such assistance
as I shall give you direction.

My lord, I am for you, though it
cost me ten 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 I know.

Thus far can I praise him.

He is of a noble strain, of approved
valour and confirmed honesty.

I will teach you how
to humour your cousin,

that she shall fall in love with
him, and I, with your two helps,

will so practise 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
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.

It is so, the 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 I am in the favour of Margaret,
the waiting gentlewoman to hero.

I remember. 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 honour
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 endeavour anything.

Go then.

Find me a meet hour to draw
Don Pedro and count Claudio alone.

Tell them that you
know that hero loves me.

They will scarcely
believe it without trial.

Offer them instances which
shall bear no less likelihood

than to see me court her privately,
hear me call Margaret hero,

and bring them to see this the very
night before the intended wedding,

and there shall appear such
seeming truths in hero's disloyalty,

that jealousy shall
be called assurance,

and all the
preparation overthrown.

Grow this to what adverse
issue it can, I will put it in practice.

Be cunning in the working this,
and thy fee is... 1,000 ducats?

Be you constant
in the accusation,

and my cunning
shall not shame me.

I will presently go learn
their day of marriage.

Boy?

Signior!

In my chamber
window, lies a book.

Bring it... Hither to me.

I am here already, sir.

I know that.

I would have thee
hence, and here again.

A book? A book.

I do much wonder, that one man,

seeing how much
another man is a fool,

when he dedicates his
behaviours to love, will,

after he hath laughed at
such shallow follies in others,

become the argument of his
own scorn by falling in love.

And such a man is Claudio.

I have known when there was no
music with him but the drum and the fife.

And now, would he rather
hear the tabor and the pipe.

I have known when he would have
walked ten mile afoot to see a good armour.

And now will he lie ten nights awake,
carving the fashion of a new doublet.

He was wont 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 cannot tell, I think not.

I will not be sworn, but love
may transform me... To an oyster,

but I'll take my oath on it, till
he have 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 till 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 re...

Of what colour it please god.

Oh! The prince and monsieur love

I will hide me.

Come, shall we hear the
music? Yea, my good lord.

How still the morning is. As hushed
on purpose to grace Harmony.

See you where
benedick hath hid himself?

O very well, my lord.

Come balthasar,
we'll have that song again.

O good my lord, tax
not so bad a voice

to slander music
any more than once.

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

Because you talk
of wooing, I will sing.

Ah!

"Ah" Now is his soul ravished.

♪ Sigh no more,
ladies, sigh no more

♪ men were deceivers ever
one foot in sea and one on shore

♪ to one thing constant never
then sigh not so, but let them go

♪ and be you blithe and bonny

converting all your sounds of woe

♪ into, "hey, nonny, nonny..." ♪

Is it not strange that sheep's guts
should hale souls out of men's bodies?

♪ ..Sing no more,
ditties, sing no more

♪ of dumps so dull and heavy
the fraud of men were ever so

♪ since summer first was leavy
then sigh not so, but let them go

♪ and be you blithe and bonny

♪ Converting all
your sounds of woe

♪ into, "hey, nonny, nonny" ♪

By my troth a good song.
Balthasar: And an ill singer, my lord.

No, thou singst well
enough for a shift.

Had he been a dog that should have
howled thus, they'd have hanged him!

Yea marry, balthasar,
dost thou hear?

I pray thee get us some
excellent music for tomorrow night.

The best I can, my
lord. Do so, farewell.

Come hither, leonato. What
was it you told me of today,

that your niece Beatrice was
in love with signior benedick?

O ay, stalk on,
stalk on, the fowl sits.

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

Nor I neither, but
most wonderful

that she should so
dote on signior benedick,

whom she hath in all outward
behaviours seemed ever to abhor.

Is't possible? Sits the
wind in that corner?

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

but that she loves him
with an enraged affection,

it is past the
infinite of thought.

Maybe she doth but
counterfeit. Faith, like enough.

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.

Um...

What effects, my lord?

She will sit you... you heard
my daughter tell you how.

How?

How, I pray you?
O, you amaze me!

I should have thought her
spirit had been invincible

against all
assaults of affection.

I should think this a gull,
but that leonato speaks it.

Knavery cannot sure hide
himself in such reverence.

He hath taken
th'infection, hold it up.

Hath she made her
affection known to benedick?

No, and swears she
never will, that's her torment.

'Tis true indeed,
so your daughter says.

"Shall I," says she, "that have so
often encountered him with scorn,

"write to him that I love him?"

The letter, yeah! She tears
the letter into a thousand pieces!

Then down upon her knees she
falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart,

tears her hair, prays, curses,

"o sweet benedick,
god give me Patience."

She doth indeed,
my daughter says so,

she rails at herself, that
she should be so immodest

to write to one that she
knows would flout her.

And the ecstasy hath so much
overborne her that my daughter

is sometimes afeard she will
do a desperate outrage to herself.

It were good that
he knew of it by some other,

if she will not discover it.

To what end? He
would but make sport of it,

and torment the poor lady worse.

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

For she is an
excellent sweet lady,

and, out of all
suspicion, she is virtuous.

And she is exceeding wise. In
every thing but loving benedick.

I am sorry for
her, as I have just cause,

being her uncle,
and her guardian.

I would she had
bestowed this dotage on me.

I would have doffed all other
respects and made her half myself.

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

Were it good, think you?
Hero thinks surely she will die,

for she says she will
die if he love her not,

she will die ere she
make her love known,

and she will die if he woo
her, rather than she will bate

one breath of her
accustomed... Crossness.

No...!

Well, she doth well. If she should
make tender of her affection,

'Tis very possible he'll scorn
it, for the man, as you know all,

hath a contemptible spirit.

He is a very proper man.

He does indeed have a
good outward happiness.

'Fore god, and in
my mind very wise.

Oh, my...

He doth indeed show
some sparks that are like wit.

And I take him to be Valiant.

Well, I am sorry for your niece.

Shall we go see benedick,
and tell him of her love?

Never tell him, my lord. Let
her wear it out with good counsel.

Nay that's impossible, she
may wear her heart out first.

Well, we'll hear further of it by
your daughter, let it cool the while.

I love benedick well, and could wish
he would modestly examine himself,

to see how much he is
unworthy to have so good a lady.

My lord, will you
walk? Dinner's ready.

If he do not dote on her upon
this, I will never trust my expectation.

Let there be the same
net spread for Beatrice,

and that must your daughter
and her gentlewoman carry.

Let us send her to call
him 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 the 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, she would rather
die than show any signs of affection.

I did never think to marry.
I must not seem proud.

Happy are those 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, that 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 have railed
so long against marriage.

But...

Doth not the appetite alter?

A man loves the meat in his
youth, 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 humour?

No!

The world must be peopled.

When I said I
would die a bachelor,

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

Here comes Beatrice. By
this day, she is a fair lady.

I do spy some
marks of love in her.

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 took pains to thank me.

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

You take pleasure
then in the message?

Yeah

Just so much as you may take

upon a knife's point and
choke a sparrow withal.

You have no stomach,
signior? Fare you well.

Ha!

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

Double meaning in that!

"I took no more pains for those
thanks then you took pains to thank me."

Well...

That's as much as to say,

"any pains that I take for
you is as easy as thanks."

If I do not take pity
on her, I'm a villain.

If I do not love her...

I'm a fool.

I will go...

Get her picture.

Good Margaret, run
thee to the parlour,

there shalt thou find
my cousin Beatrice

proposing with the
prince and Claudio.

Whisper her ear, and tell her I
and your mother walk here about,

and that our whole
discourse is all of her.

Say that thou overheardst
us, and bid her steal

where she can hide
her to listen our purpose.

This is thy office, bear thee
well in it, and leave us alone.

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.

Now begin, for look where
Beatrice, like a lapwing

runs close by the ground,
to hear our conference.

The pleasant'st angling
is to see the fish cut

with her golden
oars the silver stream,

and greedily devour
the treacherous bait.

So angle you and I for Beatrice.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

No truly,
Ursula, she is too disdainful.

I know her spirits are as coy
and wild as haggards of the rock.

But are you sure that benedick
loves Beatrice so entirely?

So says the prince,
and my new trothed 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?

O 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 wise

she knew his love,
lest she make sport at it.

Why, you speak truth.

I...

I never yet saw man,

how wise, how noble...

Young, how rarely featured,

but she would
spell him backward.

If fair faced, she would swear
the gentleman should be her sister.

If black, why nature drawing
of an antic, made a foul blot.

If tall, a Lance ill headed. If
low, an agate very vilely cut.

If speaking, why a vane
blown with all winds.

If silent, why a block
moved with none.

So turns she every
man the wrong side out.

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.

Air!

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 better 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.

O, do not do your
cousin such a wrong.

She cannot be so much
without true judgement,

having so swift and excellent
a wit as she is prized to have,

as to refuse so rare a
gentleman as signior benedick.

Indeed, he hath an
excellent good name.

His excellence did earn
it ere he had it. Hahaha.

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.

She's limed I warrant you,
we've caught her, madam.

If it prove so, then
loving goes by haps,

some cupid kills with
arrows, some with traps.

What?

Fire is in mine ears.
Can this be true?

Stand I condemned for
pride and scorn so much?

Contempt, farewell,
and maiden pride, adieu,

no glory lives behind
the back of such.

And benedick?

Love on!

I will requite thee, taming my
wild heart to thy loving hand.

If thou dost love, my
kindness shall incite thee

to bind our loves
up in a holy band.

For others say
thou dost deserve,

and I believe it
better than reportingly.

95, 96, 97.

Come on! 98, 99,

99 and a half,

100!

Are you good men and
true? Yea, or else it were pity

but they should suffer
salvation body and soul.

Nay, that were a
punishment too good for 'em,

if they should have
any allegiance in them,

being chosen for...
The prince's watch.

Come on.

Welcome aboard. Well!

Give them their charge,
neighbour dogberry.

First, who think you the most
desertless man to be constable?

George seacoal, for
he can write and read.

Sí señor. Hablo UN poco español.

Come hither, neighbour
seacoal, "seacoal".

God hath blest you with a good
name. To be a wellfavoured man,

is the gift of fortune, but to
write and read the language

comes by nature. Si?

Que es la dirección
por estación, por favor?

I knew it would be your answer.

Why, for your favour
sir, give god thanks,

and make no boast of it, and
for your writing and reading,

let that appear when there
is no need for such vanity.

You are thought here to be
the most fit and senseless man

for the constable of the watch,
therefore bear you the lantern.

Congratulations.
Welcome aboard, thank you.

This is your charge. You are
to comprehend all vagrom men.

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

How if he will not stand?

Um... ah... 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.

Boom!

If he will not stand when he is bidden
he is none of the prince's subjects.

True, and you are to meddle
with none but the prince's subjects.

You shall also make
no noise in the streets.

For the watch to babble and talk

is most tolerable,
and not to be endured.

We will 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
your bills be not stolen.

Well, you are to call
at all the alehouses...

Thank you. And bid those
that are drunk get them to bed.

How if they will not?

Um... 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. Boom!

If you meet a thief,
you may suspect him,

by virtue of your office,
to be no true man.

And for such kind of men, the
less you meddle or make with them,

why the more is
for your honesty.

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

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 been always
called a merciful man, partner.

Truly I would not
hang a dog by my will,

much more a man who
hath any honesty in him.

'Tis very true.

This is the end of the charge.

You, constable, are to
present the prince's own person.

If you meet the prince in
the night, you may stay him.

Nay, by'r lady, that
I think he cannot.

Five shillings to one on't with
any man that knows the statutes,

he may stay him, marry not
without the prince be willing,

for indeed the watch
ought to offend no man,

and it is an offence to
stay a man against his will.

By'r lady, I think
it be so. Boom!

Well masters, good night,
and there be any matter

of weight chances, call up me.

Ooh!

Keep your fellow's counsels,
and your own, and good night.

'Good night.'

good night. Over.

Come, neighbour.

Well, constable,
we hear our charge.

Let us sit here till
two, and then to bed.

Uno, pleaso. Si.

Er, what he said.

'One word
more, honest neighbours. Over.'

over.

'I pray you keep a
watch about the town,

'for the wedding being tomorrow,
there is a great coil tonight.'

adieu, be vigitant,
I beseech you.

Boom!

♪ By force I am
fixed my fancie to write

♪ ingratitude willeth
me not to reframe

♪ then blame me not,
ladies, though I indite

♪ what light of love now
amongst you doth raigne

♪ o, light of love, light of love
o, light of love, light of love ♪

I do but stay till your
marriage be consummate,

then go I toward arragon.

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

Nay, that would be as great a soil
in the gloss of your new marriage

as to show a child his new
coat and forbid him to wear it.

No, I shall only be bold with
benedick for his company,

for from the crown of his
head to the sole of his foot...

He is all mirth. Woo!

Ah, he hath a heart as sound as a
bell and his tongue is the clapper,

for what his heart
thinks, his tongue speaks.

Gallants,
I am not as I have been.

So say I,
methinks you are sadder.

I hope he be in love.

There's no true drop of blood
in him to be truly touched with love.

If he be sad, he wants money.

I...

Have the toothache.

Draw it. Hang it.

You must hang it
first, and draw it afterwards.

What? Sigh for the toothache?

Every man can master
a grief but he that has it.

Yet, say I, he is in love.

Hath any man
seen him at the barber's?

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

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

And when was
he wont to wash his face?

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

Ooh, indeed that
tells a heavy tale for him.

Conclude, he is in love.
But I know who loves him.

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

Yes, and his ill conditions,
and despite all, dies for him.

She shall be
buried with her face upwards.

Yet is this no
charm for the toothache.

Old signior, walk aside with
me. I have studied eight or nine

wise words to speak with you, which
these hobbyhorses must not hear.

For my life, to break
with him about Beatrice.

'Tis even so, hero and Ursula
have played their part with Beatrice,

and these two bears will not
bite one another when they meet.

♪ Two loves I
have of comfort and despair

♪ which like two
spirits do suggest me still

♪ the better angel
is a man right fair

♪ the worser spirit
a woman colour'd ill

♪ to win me soon
to hell my female evil

♪ tempteth my better
angel from my side

♪ and would corrupt
my Saint to be a devil

♪ wooing his purity
with her foul pride

♪ and whether that my
angel be a turn'd fiend

♪ suspect I may,
but not directly tell

♪ but being both from
me, both to each friend

♪ I guess one
angel in another's hell

♪ yet this shall I ne'er
know but live in doubt

♪ till my bad angel
find my good one out ♪

Oh, no!

My lord and brother, god save
you. Good evening, brother.

If your leisure served,
I would speak with you.

What, in private?
If it please you.

Yet count Claudio may hear.

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 will manifest.

For my brother, I think he holds
you well and, in dearness of heart,

hath helped to effect
your ensuing marriage.

Surely suit ill spent,
and labour ill bestowed.

Why, what's the matter?
I came hither to tell you,

and circumstances shortened,

for she hath been too long
atalking of, the lady is disloyal.

Who, hero?

Even she, leonato's hero,
your hero, every man's hero.

Disloyal?

The word is too good to
paint out her wickedness.

I could say she were worse,
think you of a worse title,

and I will fit her to it.

Wonder not till further
warrant. Go but with me tonight,

you shall see the proof, even
the night before her wedding day.

If you love her then,
tomorrow wed her,

but it would better fit your
honour 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,

in the congregation tomorrow 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
further till you are my witnesses.

Bear it coldly but till midnight,
and let the issue show itself.

O day, untowardly turned! O
mischief, strangely thwarting!

O plague, right well prevented!

So will you say, when
you have seen the sequel.

♪ Come away...

♪ Come away...

♪ Come away, come
away, come away...

♪ Come away, come away, death
and in sad cypress let me be laid

♪ fly away, fly away, breath
I am slain by a fair cruel maid

♪ my shroud of
white, stuck all with you

♪ o, prepare it

♪ my part of death, no
one so true did share it

♪ Come away, come
away come away, come away

♪ not a flower, not a bower on
my black coffin let there be strewn

♪ not a friend,
not a friend greet

♪ my poor corpse, where
my bones shall be thrown

♪ come away, come away ♪

Oh, hero, hero, hero!

♪ A thousand, a thousand
sighs to save lay me, o where

♪ sad true lover never
find my grave to weep there!

♪ Come away, come away ♪

What, conrade?

Peace, stir not.

Conrade, I say. Here
man, I am at thy elbow.

Ay, 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
under this penthouse,

for it drizzles rain, and I will, like
a true drunkard, utter all to thee.

Seacoal: Some treason. Stand close.
Did'st thou hear somebody?

No, he marks us
not. Therefore know,

I have earned of Don
John, a thousand ducats.

Is it possible that any
villainy should be so dear?

Thou should'st 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. That
shows thou art unconfirm'd.

Know that I have, tonight,

wooed Margaret, lady
hero's gentlewoman...

By the name of hero.

I tell this tale vilely.

I should first tell thee
how the prince and Claudio

planted, placed and possessed
by my master Don John,

saw afar off this
amiable encounter.

And thought they
Margaret was hero?

Two of them did, the
prince and Claudio,

but that 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 with her
as appointed the next morning,

and there, before the
whole congregation,

shame her with
what he saw o'ernight,

and send her home
again without a husband.

We charge you
in the prince's name, stand.

Stand.

Call up the master, constable.

We have recovered the most
dangerous piece of lechery,

that ever was seen in
the commonwealth. Over.

Masters, masters. Masters

Never speak, we charge
you, let us obey you to go with us.

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

I will, lady. And
bid her come hither!

Well.

Troth, I think your
other rebato were better.

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

By my troth's not so good, and I
warrant your cousin will say so.

My cousin's a fool, thou art
another, I'll wear none but this.

I like the new tire excellently,

if the hair a thought browner.

And your gown's a
most rare fashion, I'faith.

I saw the duchess of Milan's
gown that they praise so.

O, that exceeds, they say.

By my troth, it's but a
nightgown in respect of yours.

Cloth of gold and set
with pearls, down sleeves,

side sleeves and skirts
with a blueish tinsel.

But for a fine, quaint, graceful

and excellent fashion,
yours is worth ten on't.

God give me joy to wear it,
for my heart is exceeding heavy.

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

Fie upon thee, art not ashamed?

Of what, lady?

Of speaking honourably?

Is not marriage
honourable in a beggar?

Is not your lord honourable
without marriage?

If bad thinking do not twist
true speaking, I'll offend nobody.

Now, 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.

Ask my lady Beatrice
else, here she comes.

Good morrow, cuz.
Good morrow, sweet hero.

Why how now do you
speak in the sick tune?

I am out of all other
tune, methinks.

Clap us into...
♪ light of love ♪

That goes without a burden.
Do you sing it and I'll dance it.

'Tis almost 12 o'clock cousin
'Tis time you were ready.

Ah...

By my troth I am exceeding ill.

Hey ho.

For a hawk, a horse, or a
husband? What means the fool?

Nothing I, but god send
everyone their heart's desire.

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

I am stuffed cousin,
I cannot smell.

A maid and stuffed! There's
goodly catching of cold.

Oh, god help me!

O, god help me, how long have
you professed apprehension?

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

'Tis not seen enough, you
should wear it in your cap.

By my troth, I am sick.

Why, then, get you some of this
new medicine, carduus benedictus?

It is the only
thing for a qualm.

There thou prick'st
her with a thistle.

Benedictus? Why benedictus?

You have some
moral in this benedictus.

Moral? No, by my troth,

I have no moral meaning
with this carduus...

Benedictus!

I meant plain holy thistle.

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

Nay by'r lady, I am
not such a fool to think

what I list, nor I list
not to think what I can,

nor indeed, I cannot think,
if I would think my heart

out of thinking,
that you are in love,

or that you will be in love,
or that you can be in love.

Yet, benedick...

Was such another, and
now is he become a man.

He swore he would never marry,
and yet now in despite of his heart,

he eats his meat without grudging, and
how you may be converted I know not,

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

What pace is this thy tongue
keeps? Not a false gallop.

Madam, I am to fetch you.

The prince, the count,
Don John, signior benedick...

Atchoo!

And all the gallants
of the town are come.

Help to dress me, good Meg.

Friar Francis, be brief, only
to the plain form of marriage,

and you shall recount their
particular duties afterwards.

What would you with
me, honest neighbour?

Marry, sir, I...

I would have some confidence with
your worship that discerns you nearly.

With some haste, 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 as blunt as
god help I would desire they were,

but in faith, sir, 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, neighbour verges.

Neighbours, you are tedious.

It pleases your worship
to say so, 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 on your worship.

All thy tediousness
on me, ah? Yea.

I'd fain know what you have to
say. Marry, sir, our watch tonight,

excepting your
worship's presence,

have ta'en a couple of as
arrant knaves as any in messina.

A good old man sir, he
will be talking, as they say,

when the age is in, the wit is out,
god help us, it is a world to see.

Well said, I'faith, neighbour
verges, well, god's a good man, sir,

and two men ride of a
horse, one must ride behind,

an honest soul I'faith
sir, by my troth he is,

as ever broke bread, but
god is to be worshipped,

all men are not alike,
alas good neighbour.

Indeed neighbour,
he comes too short of you.

Gifts that god gives.
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.

Take their examination
yourself and bring it me.

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

It shall be sufficigance.
Maria: My lord...

Drink some wine
ere you go. Fare you well.

They stay for you to give
your daughter to her husband.

I wait upon them, I am ready.

Go, good
neighbour, go get you to the gaol.

We are now to examination those
men. And we must do it wisely.

We will spare for
no wit, I warrant you.

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.

O 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 honour.

Behold, how like a
maid she blushes here!

O, what authority and show of truth
can cunning sin cover itself withal!

Comes not that blood as modest
evidence to witness simple virtue?

Would you not swear,
all you that see her,

that she were a maid
by these exterior shows?

But she is none!

She knows the heat of a luxurious
bed. Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.

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, 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 his 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 Diane in her orb...

As chaste as is the
bud ere it be blown.

But you are more intemperate
in your blood than Venus,

or like those pampered animals
that rage in savage sensuality.

Is my lord well, that
he doth speak so wide?

Sweet prince, why speak
not you? What should I speak?

I stand dishonoured that I 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, o god! Claudio:
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 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
you have in her, bid her answer truly.

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

O god defend me, how am I beset?

What kind of
catechising 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 can hero, hero
itself can blot out hero's virtue.

What man was he, talked
with you yesternight, in private,

twixt the hours of 12 and 1?

Now if you are a
maid, answer to this.

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

Why then you are no maiden.
Leonato, I am sorry you must hear.

Upon mine honour, myself,

my brother and this grieved
count did see her, hear her,

at that hour last night, talk
with a ruffian in the open air,

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 spoken of.

There is not chastity
enough in language

without offence to utter them.

Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry
for thy much misgovernment.

O, 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?

Why, how now
hero, wherefore sink you down?

Come, let's go.

These things, come thus to
light, smother her spirits up.

How doth the lady?
Dead, I think. Uncle, help!

Hero, hero. Uncle.

Signior benedick. Friar.

O, fate! Take
not away thy heavy hand.

Death is the fairest cover for
her shame, that may be wished for.

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?

Do not live hero, do
not open thine eyes.

For did I think thou
wouldst not quickly die,

thought I thy spirit
stronger than thy shame,

myself would on the rearward
of reproaches strike at thy life.

Grieved I, I had but one?

O, one too much by thee.

Why had I one?

Why ever wast thou
lovely in mine eyes?

Why had I not with charitable hand
took up a beggar's issue at my gates,

who smirched thus,
and mired with infamy,

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

"This shame derives
itself from unknown loins."

But mine,

and mine I loved,
and mine I praised,

and mine that I was proud
on, mine so much, that I myself,

was to myself not mine.

Valuing of her, why she...!
O, she is fallen into a pit of ink,

that the wide sea hath drops
too few to wash her clean again,

and salt too little, which may
season give to her foultainted flesh.

Sir, sir, be patient.

For my part, I am so attired in
wonder, I know not what to say.

O, on my life, my
cousin is belied.

Lady, were you her
bedfellow last night?

No, truly not,
although till last night,

I have these 12 months
been her bedfellow.

Confirmed, confirmed,

o, that is stronger made which
was before barred up 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
been silent so long,

and given way unto this course
of fortune, by noting of the lady.

I have marked a thousand blushing
apparitions to start into her face,

a thousand innocent shames in angel
whiteness beat away those blushes,

and in her eye, there
hath appeared a fire

to burn the errors that these
princes hold against her maiden truth.

Call me a fool, trust not my
reading, nor my observation,

my reverence,
calling, nor divinity,

if this sweet lady lie not guiltless
here under some biting error.

Friar, it cannot be. Thou seest
that all the grace that she hath left

is that she will not add to
her damnation a sin of perjury.

She not denies it.

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.

O, my father,

prove you that any man with
me conversed at hours unmeet,

or that I yesternight maintained
the change of words with any creature

refuse me, hate me,
torture me to death.

There is some strange
misprision in the princes.

Two of them
have the very bent of honour,

and if their wisdoms
be misled in this,

the practice of it lives
in John the bastard,

whose spirits toil
in frame of villainies.

I know not.

If they speak but truth of her,
these hands shall tear her...

If they wrong her honour,

the proudest of them
shall well hear of it.

Time hath not yet so
dried this blood of mine,

but they shall find,
awaked in such a kind,

both strength of limb and
policy of mind, ability in means...

And choice of friends, to
quit me of them thoroughly.

Pause awhile, and let
my counsel sway you in this case.

Your daughter here,
the princes left for dead.

Let her awhile be secretly kept
in, and publish it that she is dead,

indeed, maintain a
mourning ostentation,

and on your family's old
monument hang mournful epitaphs,

and do all rites that
appertain unto a burial.

What shall become of
this? What will this do?

She dying, as it must
be so maintained,

upon the instant that 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.

So will it fare with Claudio.

When he shall hear
she died upon his words,

the idea of her life shall sweetly
creep into his study of imagination,

and every lovely
organ of her life

shall come apparelled
in more precious habit,

more moving, delicate and full of
life, than when she lived indeed.

Then shall he mourn, and
wish he had not so accused her.

Signior leonato, let
the friar advise you,

and though you know
my inwardness and love

is very much unto the prince
and Claudio, yet by mine honour,

I will deal in this as
secretly and justly

as your soul should
with your body.

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

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.

O, 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.

And yet I lie not.

I confess nothing.

Nor I deny nothing.

I am sorry for my cousin.

By my sword,
Beatrice, thou lov'st me.

Do not swear by it and eat it.

I will swear by it
that you love me.

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.

Sssh!

Why then, o, may god forgive me.

What offence, sweet Beatrice?

You have stayed
me in a happy hour,

I was about to
protest I love you.

And do it with all thy heart.

I love you with so much of my
heart there is none left to protest.

Come, bid me do
anything for thee.

Kill Claudio.

Not for the wide world.

You kill me to deny it.
Farewell. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

I'm gone, though I'm
here, there is no love in you.

Nay, I pray you,
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 a villain,

that hath slandered, scorned,
dishonoured my kinswoman?

O, that I were a man!

What, bear her in hand
until they come to take hands,

and then with public accusation,

uncovered slander,
unmitigated rancour?

O, god, that I were a man!

I would eat his heart
in the marketplace.

Hear me, Beatrice. "Talk"
with a man in the open air?

A proper saying.
Nay, but Beatrice...

Sweet hero, she is wronged,
she is slandered, she is undone.

Bea... princes and counts!

Surely, a princely testimony,
a goodly count, count comfect,

a sweet gallant surely

O, that I were a
man for his sake!

Or that I had any friend
would be a man for my sake!

But manhood is melted into
curtsies, valour into compliment,

and men are only turned
into tongue, and trim ones too.

He is now as Valiant as
Hercules who only tells a lie.

And swears it.

I cannot be a man with wishing,

therefore I will 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 do
have a thought or a soul.

Enough I am engaged,
I will challenge him.

I will kiss your hand,
and so 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.

Make way! Coming through!

Excuse me, please! Forsooth.

Is our whole dissembly appeared?

Quiénes son los acusados?

Qué?

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.

Pray write down
"borachio". Yours, sirrah?

I am a gentleman,
sir, my name is conrade.

Write down
"master gentleman conrade".

Masters, do you serve god?

Yea, sir. We hope.

Write down that
they hope they serve god.

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. How
answer you for yourselves?

Señor, decimos que
es falso. Oh, oh oh!

A marvellous witty fellow, I assure
you, but I shall go about with him.

Come you hither, sirrah.
A word in your ear, sir.

I say to you, it is thought
you are false knaves.

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, this is flat perjury,

to call the 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?
Seacoal: Marry, that he had received

a thousand ducats of Don John for
accusing the lady hero wrongfully.

Flat burglary,
as ever was committed.

By the mass, that it
is. What else, fellow?

Seacoal: And that count
Claudio did mean upon his words,

to disgrace hero before the
whole assembly, and not marry her.

O, villain!

Thou wilt be condemned into
everlasting redemption for this.

What else? Seacoal: 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 refus'd.

And upon the grief
of this, suddenly died.

Master constable, let these
men be brought to leonato.

I will go before, and show
him their examination.

Off, coxcomb!

God's my
life, where's the sexton?

Let him write down the
prince's officer coxcomb.

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

Dost thou not suspect my place?
Dost thou not suspect my years?

O, that he were here
to write me down an ass!

But masters, remember
that I am an ass.

Though it not be writ down,
yet forget not that I am an ass.

No, thou villain,
thou art full of piety

as shall be proved upon
thee by good witness.

I am a wise fellow and,
which is more, an officer.

And which is more,
a householder.

And which is more, a pretty a
piece of flesh as any in messina.

And, and... Law!

One that knows
the law, go to. Rich.

And a rich fellow
enough, go to. And losses.

A fellow that had losses.
And one that hath...

Coats. Two coats,

and every thing handsome
about him. Come, bring him away.

O, that I had been
writ down an ass!

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.

Give not me counsel...

Nor let no comforter
delight mine ear,

but such a one whose
wrongs doth suit with mine.

Bring me a father
that so loved his child,

whose joy of her is
overwhelmed like mine.

Bid him speak of Patience, measure
his woe the length and breadth of mine

and let it answer
every strain for strain

as thus for thus, and
such a grief for such.

If such a one will smile
and stroke his beard,

patch grief with proverb,
make misfortune drunk,

with candlewasters,
bring him yet to me,

and I of him will
gather Patience.

But there is no such man.

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 hero is
belied, that shall Claudio know,

so shall the prince and all of
them that thus dishonour her.

Good day. 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. Do
not quarrel with us,

good old man.

If he could right
himself with quarrelling,

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, nor a fool.

Thou hast so wronged
my innocent child and me,

that I am forced to
lay my reverence by,

and with grey hairs
and bruise of many days,

do challenge thee to
trial of a man, I say...

Thou hast belied
mine innocent child.

Thy slander hath gone
through and through her heart.

And she lies buried
with her ancestors,

o, in a tomb where never
scandal slept, save this of hers,

framed by thy
villainy. My villainy?

Thine Claudio, thine I say.
You sayest not right, old man.

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

I will not have to do with
you. Canst thou so doff me?

Thou hast killed my child.

If thou kill'st me, boy,
thou shalt kill a man.

Peace, leonato!
Let him answer me.

Come follow me boy, come
sir boy, come follow me, sir boy,

I'll whip you from
your foining fence.

Wife... content yourself. God...

Knows I loved my
child, and she is dead.

Slandered to death by
villain that dare as well

answer a man indeed as I dare
take a serpent by the tongue.

Innogen. Hold you
content. What man?

I know them, yea, and what they
weigh, even to the utmost scruple.

A scambling, outfacing,
fashionmonging boy...

That lies and cogs and flouts,

depraves and slanders, and speaks
of half a dozen dangerous words,

how he may hurt his
enemies, if he durst.

And this is all. But innogen...

Do not you meddle,
let me deal in this.

Good sir and madam,
we will not wake your Patience.

My heart is sorry for your
daughter's death, but on my honour,

she was charged with nothing but
what was true and very full of proof.

My lord. I will not hear you.

No?

Come, innogen, away.

I will be heard.

See, see, here comes
the man we went to seek.

Now signior, what news?

Welcome signior, you are
almost come to part almost a fray.

In a false quarrel there is no true
valour. I came to seek you both.

We have been up
and down to seek thee,

for we're high proof melancholy,
and would fain have it beaten away.

Wilt thou use thy wit? It's in
my scabbard shall I draw it?

Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
As I'm an honest man, he looks pale.

Art thou sick, or angry?

Sir, I shall meet
your wit in the career,

and you charge it against me, I
pray you choose another subject.

By this light, he changes more
and more. 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.
Sir, your wit ambles well.

It goes easily.

I'll tell thee how Beatrice
praised thy wit the other day.

I said thou hadst a fine wit.
"True," says she, "a fine little one."

"Nay," said I, "a good wit.""Just,"
said she, "it hurts no body."

"Nay," said I, "he
hath the tongues."

"That I believe," said she, "for he
swore a thing to me on Monday night,

"which he forswore
on Tuesday morning."

There's a double tongue,
there's two tongues.

Yet at last, she
concluded, with a sigh,

thou wast the properest
man in messina.

My lord, for your many
courtesies I thank you.

I must discontinue your company.

Your brother, the bastard,
is fled from messina.

You have among you killed
a sweet and innocent lady.

For my lord lackbeard
there, he and I shall meet.

And till we do,
peace be with him.

He is in earnest. In
most profound earnest,

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

He challenged
thee. Most sincerely.

Did he not say my
brother was fled?

Come you
sir, you must be looked to.

Two of my brother's men bound?
What offence have these men done?

My lord, this man...
marry... marry sir,

they have committed
false report.

Moreover, they have spoken
untruths, secondarily, they are slanders,

sixthly and lastly they
have belied a lady,

thirdly, they have
verified unjust things,

and to conclude,
they are lying knaves.

Firstly, I ask thee
what they have done.

Thirdly, I ask thee
what's their offence.

Sixthly and lastly why
they are committed,

and to conclude, what
you lay to their charge?

Well, when they... I
was just going to...

I was just going
to... all right!

Masters, this learned constable
is too cunning to be understood.

What's your offence? Sweet
prince, do you hear me...

And let this count kill me.

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 your brother, Don John
incensed me to slander the lady hero,

and how you saw me court
Margaret in hero's garments.

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
while he uttered it.

Did my brother set
thee on to this? Yea.

And paid me for the practice of
it. 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? 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.

Nay, not so villain,
thou beliest thyself.

Here stand a pair of honourable
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 in messina here
how innocent she died, do so tonight.

Tomorrow morning
come you to my house,

and since you could not be
my soninlaw, be yet my nephew.

My wife hath a niece, almost
the copy of our child that's dead.

Give her the right you
should have given her cousin,

and so dies my
revenge. O, noble sir!

Your overkindness
doth wring tears from me.

Tomorrow we will expect your
coming, tonight we take our leave.

This guilty man shall face to
face 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.

Moreover sir, which is
not under white and black,

this plaintiff here,

the offender, did call me ass.

I beseech you let it be
remembered in his punishment.

Pray you, examine
him upon that point.

I thank thee for thy
care and honest pains.

Your worship speaks like a
thankful and reverend youth,

and I praise god for you.

There's for thy pains.
God save the foundation!

Go, I discharge thee of thy
prisoners, and I thank thee.

I leave an arrant
knave with your worship,

which I beseech thee 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.

Boom.

Come neighbours.

Until tomorrow
morning, lords, farewell.

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.

♪ The god of love...

♪ That...

♪ Sits above...

I 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 a
fencer's foils which hit but hurt not.

A most manly wit, Margaret,
it will not hurt a woman.

So I pray thee, call Beatrice,
I give thee the bucklers.

Give us the swords, we
have bucklers of our own.

Well, I will call Beatrice to
you, who I think hath legs.

And therefore will come.

? The
god of love, that sits above...

Leander the good swimmer,
troilus the first employer of panders,

and a whole book full of
these quondam carpetmongers,

whose names yet run smoothly
in the even rode 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, to "scorn".

"Horn"?

A hard rhyme, very
ominous ending.

No, I was not born
under a rhyming planet.

For I cannot woo
in festival terms.

Sweet Beatrice, would'st
thou come when I called?

Yea signior, and
depart when you bid me.

O, stay but till then.

Then, is spoken.

Fare you well.

No...

And yet ere I go, let me
go with that I came, which is,

with knowing what hath
passed between you and Claudio.

Only foul words, and
there upon I will kiss thee.

Foul words is but foul wind,
and foul 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.

Either I must shortly hear from
him, or I will subscribe him a coward.

But I pray thee now 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,

they would not admit any good
part to intermingle with them.

But I pray you, for
which of my good parts

did you 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, you must
come to your uncle,

yonder's old coil at home.

It is 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 come hear
this news, signior?

I will live in thy heart...

Die in thy lap...

And be buried in thy eyes.

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

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.

Lie thou there upon the tomb,
praising her when I am dumb.

Now unto thy bones good night.

Yearly will I do this rite.

♪ Pardon goddess of the night
those that slew thy virgin knight

♪ midnight assist our moan
help us to sigh and groan

♪ heavily, heavily
heavily, heavily

♪ Graves yawn and yield your
dead for the which, with songs of woe

♪ round about her tomb they
go midnight assist our moan

♪ help us to sigh and
groan heavily, heavily

♪ heavily, heavily
heavily, heavily

♪ till death be uttered... ♪

Good morrow, Claudio.

You and I must go.

Leonato waits upon us both.

Good morrow to
this fair assembly.

Good morrow, prince.
Good morrow, Claudio.

We here attend you,
are you yet determined,

today to marry with
innogen's niece?

I am. Go, innogen,
and call her forth.

Friar...

I must entreat
your pains, I think.

To do what, signior? To bind me.

Or undo me, one of them.

Signior leonato, truth is, good
signior, your niece regards me...

With an eye of favour.

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

And I do, with an
eye of love, requite it.

The sight whereof I think you had
from me, from Claudio, and the prince,

but what's your will?

Your answer sir is enigmatical,
but for my will my will is,

your good will may stand with
ours, this day to be conjoined...

In the state of honourable
marriage.

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

My heart is with your
liking. And my help.

Which is the lady I must
seize upon? This same is she.

And I do give you her.
Why then she is 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 maid.

The former
hero? Hero that is dead?

She died my lord, but
whiles her slander lived.

All this amazement can I qualify,
meantime, let wonder seem familiar.

Soft and fair lady...

Which is Beatrice?

I answer to that
name, what is your will?

Do not you love me? No...

No more than reason.

Why then your uncle
and the prince and Claudio

have been deceived,
they swore you did.

Do not you love me? Troth no.

No... more than reason.

Why then my cousin, Margaret
and Ursula were 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 matter then,
you do not love me?

Truly, no, but in
friendly recompence.

Come cousin, I am
sure you love the gentleman.

And I'll be sworn
upon it that he loves her,

for here's a paper
written in his hand,

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 under 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?

I'll tell thee what, prince.

A college of witcrackers cannot
flout me out of my humour.

Dost thou think I care
for a satire or an epigram?

No.

If a man will be beaten with brains,
he'll wear nothing handsome about him.

In brief, since I do
purpose to marry...

I will think nothing to any purpose
that the world can say against it.

For man is a giddy thing,
and this is my conclusion.

For thy part, Claudio...

I did think to have beaten thee.

But, in that thou art
like to be my kinsman,

live unbruised...

Argh!

And love my cousin.

I had well hoped thou
would've denied Beatrice,

that I might've cudgelled
thee out of thy single life,

to make thee a double
dealer. Come, come.

We're friends.

We'll have a dance ere we are married,
that we may lighten our own hearts,

and our wives' heels.

We'll have dancing
afterward. First, of my word.

Therefore, play music.

Prince. Uh.

Thou art sad. Ah.

Get thee a wife.

Get thee a wife.

My lord, your brother
John is ta'en in flight,

and brought with armed
men back to messina.

Think not on him till tomorrow.

I'll devise brave
punishments for him.

Strike up!

Oh... pipers!

♪ Sigh no more, ladies, sigh
no more men were deceivers ever

♪ one foot in sea
and one on shore

♪ to one thing constant never
then sigh not so, but let them go

♪ and be you blithe and bonny
converting all your sounds of woe

♪ into, "hey, nonny, nonny"
into, "hey, nonny, nonny"

♪ "hey, nonny, nonny"
yeah, yeah, yeah!

♪ "Hey, nonny, nonny"

♪ "hey, nonny, nonny"

♪ sing no more ditties, sing no
more of dumps so dull and heavy

♪ the fraud of men was ever
so since summer first was leafy

♪ then sigh not so, but let them
go and be you blithe and bonny

♪ converting all
your sounds of woe

♪ into, "hey, nonny, nonny"
into, "hey, nonny, nonny"

♪ into, "hey... Nonny, nonny" ♪

Nonny!

Subtitles provided by stagetext