 Music Tomba Theater's reading of Much Ado About Nothing in the original pronunciation, what you are about to hear is the reconstruction of the historical dialects spoken in Elizabethan England at the time that Shakespeare is writing. Do, do, do, do, do. And I can think sometimes. This is a reading, Daniel. You can read it. Yeah, the reading is approximately 90 minutes long with no intermission. Yeah, there's a bar there that you can partake in later. Bear in mind, actors may be moving up the aisle in front of you or to the sides in case of an emergency. Should that happen? The emergency exit is out that door or down those stairs. There will be a short 15 minute-ish talk-back after about the experience and yeah, without further ado. We're at ensemble theater, now presents you William Shakespeare's much-to-do-about note-in. Pedro Baradon comes this night to Messena. He was very nervous. It was not very legs-up when I left him. How many gentlemen have you lost in this accident? But few of them, he sort. And none of them. A victory is twice itself when the chamber brings home full numbers. I find here that Don Pedro bestowed much honor from the young Florentine called Claudio. He had an uncle here in Messena. We'll be very much glad of it. I have already delivered some letters and there are pairs much giant in here. Ah, Prey, is Sir Montanto returned from the wires or no? And no, none of that name, Lady. There was none such in the army of any sort. And the cousin men, Signor Benedict Cappadoia? Oh, he's returned. I was pleasant as ever, I was. Ah, Prey, how many have they killed in any war? Oh, but how many have they killed for a day? I promised to eat out of the killing. Fairness, you taxing your Benedict too much. But he'll mate with you, I doubt it not. He had some good service, Lady, in his wards. He had most evictual and he had helped to aid it. He's a very valiant Frenchman. He had an excellent stomach. And a good soldier too, Lady. And a good soldier to a lady, but what's he to a lord? A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stucked with all honourable values. It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuffed man. But for the stuff and well, we are all mortal. You must not fire a mistake because there is a kind of merry war between Twixter and Signor Benedict. See, they never knit, but there's this kind of wits between them. We get noted by that. In our last conflict, four of its five wits went holding off. And now the old man governed with own, so that if he had wits enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his wits. Who is this companion now? He has every month a new sworn brother. He has most in the company of the right noble. Ah, lord, he will hang upon him like it today. He is sooner caught than the pestilence and the taker will be presently mad. God help the noble Claudio. If he had caught the Benedict, it would cost him a thousand pounds. Very peculiar. I will keep friends with you, my dear. You'll never run mad, Miss. No, not till a hot January. Don Pedro is approached. Good signor Leonato, you're come to make your trouble. The fashion of the world is to abide cost and you encounter it. Never made trouble to the likeness of my house to grace. You embrace your charge to a willing life. I think this is your daughter. Her mother had many time stories. Were you in doubt of the Jocester? Senior Benedict. No, for then were you a child. If senior Leonato be her father, she would have his head on her shoulders for all Miss Anna's likeness she has. I wonder that you will still be talking, senior Benedict. Nobody marks you. What, my dear lady, this day, are you living? Is it possible this day should die while she hath such mad food to feed at us, senior Benedict? Car to say itself must convert to this day in a new commoner presence. It is Car to say a turnfold. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies. Only you accept it. And I would if it finds in my heart that I had not a hard heart for truly I love known. A dear happiness to women? They would else have been troubled with a pernicious deuter? I thank God in my cold blood. I am in your humour for that. Goad papylettorship still in that mind. So some gentleman or other shall skep a predestinate, scratched face. Scratching could not make it worse, and to our such a face is yours. Well, you are our parent creature. A bird of my tongue is better than a face of yours. I will harter the sped of your tongue and so go to continue our but to keep your way of God's name. I have done. You always end with the Jed's trick. I know you were bold. This is the sum of all. My dear friend Leonardo had invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at the Leicester month and he heartily prays some occasion, meditation us longer. I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. If you swear, my lord, he shall not be forsworn. Let me bid you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother. I owe you all duty. I thank you. I am not with many words, but I thank you. Pleased to grace, lead on it. Benefit. Disto, note the doctor of Senor Leonardo. I noted or not what I looked on her. Is she not a modest young lady? Do you question me, as an honest man, should do from a simple true judgment? Or would you have me speak after my custom as being a professed tyrant to their sex? Don't think it's time in the sport. I pray that they tell me truly how though Leicester. Would you buy her? Did you inquire after her? And the world boys, did you? Yeah, in a case to put it into. But speak of this with a sad brow. In my name, 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 you have no intent at her husband. If I were on the contrary, her hero would be my wife. Yes, come to this. Shall I never say a bachelor of three score again? Go to a faith, and thou wilt needst thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away some days. Look, Don Pedro's returned to seek you. What secret hath held you here that you followed not to Leigh and Otto's? I would, your grace, could strain me to tell. I charge thee on my allegiance. Your hair, Count Claudio, I can be a secret as a dumb man. I would you have, if you think so. But on my allegiance, mark you on my allegiance, he is in love. With whom, now, that is your grace's part. Mark how short his answer is with hero, Leonardo's short daughter. Amen, if you love her, for the lady is very well worth I. You spake this to fetch me in my lord. But my truth, I spake my thought. And in faith, I spoke mine. And by my true faiths and truths, my lord, I spake mine. That I love her, I fail. That she is worthy, I know. That another fail, how she should be loved, I do not know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me. I will die in it at the stake. Loost 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 can save me, I thank her. That she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks. But all women shall pardon me, because I will not do them wrong to mistrust any. I will do myself the right to trust none. And the fine is for the which I'm a god 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 my knives with a ballot maker's pen, hang me up at the door of a brothel house, for the sign of blind cupid. Well, as time shall try, in time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedict bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and stick them in my forehead. And let me be violently painted in such great letters as they write, hair is good force to hire. Put them signify under my sign, hair you must see, Benedict, the married man. Well, you will temperize with the oars. In the main time, goods, in your Benedict, 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 enough matter in me for such an embassage, so I commit you. From the tuition of God, from the house, if I add it, the sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedict. Nay, muck not, muck not. The body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments in the guards of it slightly based on a nether. There you flout old indenay farther. Examine your conscience. So I leave you. Belage, the Rhine is known, may do me good. My love is lying to teach, take it, but how, and I shall see how apt it is to learn any hard lesson that may do the good. Halfway an atone is soon, my lord. No child but hero, she's his only heir. Just thou a factor, Claudio. Oh, my lord, when you went onward on this ended axion, I looked upon her with the soldier's eye, but light but had a rougher task in hand than to drive light into the name of love. But now I am returned, and that war thoughts have left their place as vacant. And their rooms come throng and soft, and they'll keep their theirs, prompting me how fair young hero is. Saying I like your heir, I went to Warbs. There will be like a lover presently, and tire the hero with a book of Warbs. If thou dost love fair hero, cherish it. And I will break with her. Was not to this end that thou beganst to twist so fine a story? Oh, sweet lady, minister to love, that no loves great by its complexion. But lest my liking might too soon in same, would have salvaged it with a longer trafice. Putt-ned the bridge much broader than the flood. The fairest grant is the necessitate. Look what will serve as fit, his aunts, thou lovest, and I will fit thee with a remedy. I know we will have revel in tonight. I will assume thy part in some disguise and tell fair hero, I am Claudio. And into her bosom I'll unclass my heart and take her here in prisoner with the force and strong encounter of my amorous tale. Then to her father will I break, and the conclusion is, she shall be thine. In practice, let us put it presently. How now, brother? Where is my cousin, your son? Had he provided this music? It was very busy about it, but, brother, I can tell you news that you yet dreamt not of. Are they good? As you then stamp them. But they have a good cover. They're sure well outward. The prince and Count Claudio walkin' in a thick-plated alley in my orchard were thus so mirrored by a man of mine. The prince discovered to Claudio that he loved menace. And meant to uncover it this night in a dance. And if it found her accordant, it meant to take the present tame by the top and instantly break with your wit. Have the fellow any wit that told you this. Oh, good sharp fellow, I will send for him in question of your son. No, no, no. We'll hold it as a drink till it appears at seven. But I will acquaint my daughter with art that she let me better prepare for an answer if her adventure was the truth. Oh, I cry, you mercy friend, go with me, and I will use your seal, good cousin. Have it, have it, have it. What a good year, my lord. Why are you those sorts of mezzers sad? There is no mezzer in the occasion that braids. There are some of the sadnesses without limit. You shut hair raisin'. 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 leather. Sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man's business. Yes. Laugh when I am merry and claw on no man in a zoomer. But you must not make full show of this till you may do it without controlment. You have a blitz to doubt against your brother, and he hath tain you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself. I'd rather be a canker and a hedge than a rose in his grace, and it better fit my blood to be the same of all than to fashion a carriage to rub love from any. In this, though I cannot be sad to be a flat and honest man, it must not be denied, but I am a plain dealing villain. I am trusted with a muscle and enfranchised with a claw. If I have my mouth, I would bite. If I have 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 brought you here? I came yonder from a great supper. The prince, your brother, is rarely entertained by Leonardo. I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he for a foal that patrols himself to unquietness? Marie, it is your brother's right hand. Who, the most exquisite Claudio? My name is He. A proper squire. And who, and who, which way looks he? Marie, on hero, the daughter and heir of Leonardo. And very forward marsh check. How came you to this? Been entertained for a perfumer as I was smoking a musty rum, comes near the prince and Claudio, hand-in-hand in sad conference, whipped behind the aris, and there heard a degrade upon that the prince should rule hero for himself, and having obtained her, gave her to cold Claudio. Come, come, let us fither. This may prove food to my displeasure, that young upstart hath all the glory of my overthrow. If I can cross them anyway, I bless myself every way. Let us to the great supper. Their chair is the greater than I am, so, dude. Shall we go prove what's to be done? Well, wait to pun your lordship. Was not count John here at supper? How tartly that gentleman looks. And there can say him that I am heart-burned and all are after. He is of a very melancholy disposition. They were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedict. The one is too like an image and says no to him, and the other is too like my lady's eldest son ever more tattling. Then half Senor Benedict's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half of Count John's melancholy in Senor Benedict's face. With a good leg and a good foot-cutting, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world if he could get a good will. By my truth, Ness, that will never get there, husband. If thou may so shrewd of thy tongue. The bet is too cursed. Too cursed is more than cursed. I shall lessen God's sentence that way, for it is said, God sends a cursed cow short-forms, but to a cow too cursed he sends none. So, by being too cursed, God will send you no hearts. Just if he send me no husband? For the witch's blessing, I am at him upon my name every morning in the evening. Well, Ness, I trust you will be ruled by your father. Yes, bae. It is my cousin's duty to make curtsy and say, as it pleases you. But yet for all that cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say, Father, as it pleases me. Well, Ness, I hope you, one day, are fitted with the husband. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. No, uncle, I'll know him. Daughter, remember what I told you. If the prince do solicit you in any kind, you know your answer. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you've been uproading good times. If the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For hear me, hero. Woman, wedding, and repenting is as a scotch jig, a measure, and a sink head. The pursuit is hot and hasty, like a scotch jig, and full is fantastical. The wedding, manually modest, has a measure full of state and archantry, and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the sink head, faster and faster, till he sinks into his grave. Cousin, you apprehend passings, truly. I have a good eye, uncle. I can see a church by daylight. Brother was around you, and, brother, take good care of me. Lennie, will you walk about with your friend? So you walk, so I'll play in the sweetly, and say, Nolton, I'm yours for the walk, and especially when I walk away. With me and your company? I'm a say-so when I play. But one play is yet a say-so. When I, like your favour, crew could defend the loot, should be like the case. My visor is Philemon's roof. Within the house is Joel. Why, then, your visor should be packed. Speak low, if you speak low. Will you not tell me who told you so? No, you shall pardon me. No, or will you not tell me who you are? Not now. But it was disdainful, and that had no good wit out of the hundred merry tales. Well, this was Senior Benedict that said so. What say? I'm sure you know him well enough. No, not I, believe me. Did he never make you laugh? I pray, and what is it? Quiet he is, the Prince's jester. A very dull fool. Only his gate is in devise and impossible slanders. I am sure he is in the flates. I would hear both of you. Well, I know the gentleman, I'll tell him once you say. Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me. Which, poor adventure, not marked or not laughed at, strikes him into a melancholy. And then there's a part which we can say after the fool will let no supper that night. We must follow the ladders. And every good thing. Nay, if they lay to any ill, I will let them at the next turning. Sure, my brother is amorous on hero, and I've withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The ladders follow her, and but own visor amends. And that is Claudio. I know him by his bearing. Are you not, Senior Benedict? You know me well, I am he. Senior, you are very near my brother and his love. He is enamored on hero. I pray it dissuade him from her. She has no way to go for his birth. You may do the parts of his honest man in it. I'll know you, you loves her. I heard him swear as a fixie. I know so did I, too. And he swore he would marry her tonight. Go on, let us to the banquet. Let's answer I in name of Benedict. But here he's ill news with the heirs of Claudio. This certain so, the prince woes for himself. Friendship is constant all of the things, saving the office and affairs of love. Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues. Let every heart negotiate for itself and trust no agent. For beauty is a witch against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of orally proof which I must trust and not. Farewell, therefore, hero. Count Claudio. Yeah, the same. Come, will you go with me? With her. Into the next willow. About your own business count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? About your knack like a user's chin. Born to your arm like a lieutenant's scarf. You must wear it all the way for the prince has got your hero. I wish him gyber. Well, you've been spoken like an honest strove here, so this elbow looks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus? I pray you'll leave me. My last poor taupe. Now he will crepe into sedges. But that lady Beatrice should know me and not know me. The prince is full. I am not so reputed. It is the best, though, bitter disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person and so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged as a mech. Now, senor, where's the count? Did you see him? Truth, my lord. I saw him here as non-coly as a lodge in a warren. I told him, and I think told him, true that your dress had got with the willow, this young lady. Now, I've put in my company to a willow tray, I added to make my garland unbanned for second or to bind him a rod, it's being worthy to be whipped. To be whipped? What's his fault? The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being arjoed with finding a bird's nest, shows that his companion and he stels it. Well, they'll make a trust a transgression. The transgression is in the steller. It has not been amiss the rod it unmet for the rod he might have bestowed on you who, as a ticket, had stolen his bird's nest. I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the owner. If they're singing, answer your saying, by my faith, if they honestly. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you. Oh, she misused me past the endurance of a bloke. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that I was duller than a grand stall huddling just upon jest with such impossible commands upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark with a whole army shooting at me. She staked pioneering and every ward stabs. If her breath were as terrible as terminaecians, there were no living nearer. She would infect to the North Star, come talk not of her, for certainly though she is here a man might live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary. Indeed, I'll disquiet horror and perturbation follows her. Look, there she comes. Will your grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errands now to the antipodes that you can devise to send me on. I will fetch you a tooth picker now from the farthest in Svesia. Do you any embassage to the pygmies rather than hold three-words conference with this harpy? You have no employment for me. Known but to desire your good company. Oh, God, sir. Here's a dish I could love not. I cannot endure my lady, Tom. Come, lady, come. You've lost the heart of Senor Benedict. Indeed, my lord. He lent me a quail and he gave me news for it. A double heart for a single own. Mary owns before he wanted to me with false dice. Therefore your grace will well say I have lost it. You will put him down, lady. You'll put him down. So I would not, he should do me. My lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I've brought Kent Claudio whom he sent me to seek. But 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, but nor well, but civil, Count. Civil is an orange and something of a jealous complexion. He's faithful, lady. If he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooden my name and fair hero as one. I've had broke with her father and his good will obtain. Name the day of marriage and God give the jive. Count, take of me my daughter and weather my fortunes. His grace have made the match. And thou, Grace, say, amen to it. Speck, Count, she's your cue. Soilings is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours. I give away myself for you and dot upon the exchange. Speck, cousin, or if you cannot, stuff his wealth with a kiss and let him not speak neither. In faith, lady, you have a married heart. Ah. Yeah, my lord, I thank it. Poor fool, it kept on the windy side of care. Good lord for alliance, this goes every on into the world, but I and I am sunburned. I may sit in a corner and cry, hey, ho, for a husband. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. I would rather have one if your father's getting. And through Grace never brother like you. Your father goes to excellent husbands if a maid could come by him. Will you have me, lady? No, my lord. Unless I might have another for work and days, your Grace is too costly to wear every day. But I must say to Grace, pardon me, I was born to speak alimony from no matter. Your silence most offends me. And to be married best becomes you, for out of question you were born in a married hour. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried. But then there was a star danced and under that's what they born. Cousins, God give you joy. Ness, will you look after those things I told you? I cry, your mercy, uncle, by your Grace's pardon. Oh, my troika, pleasant spherited lady. There's little melancholy element in her, my lord. She's never sad, but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then, for when she had often dreamt of unhappiness, then wept herself with laughing. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. Oh, by no means. She mocked all the who were sad to see. She were an excellent wife for Benedict. Oh, lord, lord. If they were but a wek married, they would talk themselves mad. Count Claudio, when may I to go to church? Tomorrow, my lord, time goes on crutches to love of all's rights. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven night. At a time to brief, too, to have all things answer mine. Come, you shake the head it's so long a breathing, but I'll warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go doly by us. I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours, which is to bring Signor Benedict and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, blown with the other. I would faint have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. My lord, I am for you, though it costs me ten nights to watch us. And I am, my lord. And you, too, gentle hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help the cousin to a good husband. And Benedict is not the unoffalest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him. He is of a noble strain, of approved valor, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humor your cousin that she shall fall in love with Benedict. And I, with your two helps, will so practice on Benedict that in spite of his quick wit and his quaisy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be o'er's. And where 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 Leonardo. Amen, my lord. Do I can cross it? Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinal to me. I am sick and displeasure to him. Now, whatever comes of work to his effection renders evenly with mine. How can I cross this marriage? Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that no dishonestation will appear in me. Show me briefly how. I think I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the wet and gentle woman to hero. I remember. How can at any unseasonable instant of the night avoid her to look out at her lady's chamber window? What life is in that to be the death of this marriage? The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go, you, to the prince, your mother. Spare not to tell him that he had longed his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose estimation you might have pulled 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 Leonardo. Looking for any other issue? Only to, despite him, I will endeavour anything. Find me a meteor to draw up on Pedro and the Count Claudio alone. Tell him that you know that hero loves me. Well, they were scarcely belayed, this was their trial. Offer them instances which should bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber window. Hear me call Margaret, hero. Hear Margaret tell me Claudio. And bring them to say this the very night before the wedding. For the meantime, I was so fatty in the matter that heroes shall be absent, and there shall appear such same intrusions of heroes' disloyalty that jealousy shall be called assurance in all the preparation overthrown. Grow this to what adverse issue it can. I will put it in practice. I will presently go learn their day of mariage. Bye. Senor, in my chamber window lays a book. Bring a heather to me in the orchard. I do much wonder. The dorn man, seeing how much another man is a foe when he dedicates his behaviours to love, well, after he had laughed at such shallow foes and others, become of 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 pipe, and now had he rather hear the taber in the pipe. He was one to speak plain and to the purpose like an honest man and a soldier. And now, as he turned orthography, his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. My habit has so converted. And say with these eyes, I could not tell, I think not. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me into an Ister. But I'll take my oath on it till he have made an Ister of meish on there make me such a foe. One woman is fair, yet I am well. Another is wise, yet I am well. Another virtue is, yet I am well. But till all graces be an own woman, own woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain. Wise are all known. Virtuous are on their championer, fair are on their look on her. Milder come not near me. Noble are not for an angel of good discourse and excellent musician and her hair shall be of what color it plays good. The prince and most your love I will hide me in the arbor. Say oh, our Benedict have hid himself. Oh, very well, my lord. Will fit the kid box with any work. Come here there, Leonardo. What was it you told me of today that your nice Beatrice was in love with Senor Benedict? Stock on, stock on, the foe sits. I did never, I did never think that lady would have loved any man. No, nor I neither. But most wonderful. That should, to dote on Senor Benedict, whom she hath and our outward behaviors seemed ever too apart. Is it possible? Is it the wind in that corner? By my trove, lord. I cannot tell what to think of it. But that she loves him with an enrage and affection is past the infinite of thought. Why, what effects of passion shall she? They feel quell, this fish will fight. What effects, my lord? She will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you. She did indeed. How, how I pray you. You amaze me. I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially against Benedict. I should have said the goal that the white bearded fellow specs it. Neighbor cannot sure hide itself in such reverence. Hath she made her affection known to Benedict? No, and swear she never will. That's her torment. Tastes true indeed. So your daughter says, shall I say she that have also encountered him with school right to him to tell him I love him? This says she. Now when she's beginning to write to him. For she'll be up 20 times a night and there she will sit in her smock till she had written a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us out. While she tore that letter into a thousand half-pence, railed at herself that she should be so immortal to write. To own that she should flute her. I measured him, says she. By my own spirit. For I should flute him if he writes to me. Here though I love him, I should. Then don't upon her knees she fouls, whips, sobs, beats her heart, trairs her hair, prays, curses. Oh, sweet Benedict, God give me patience. She doeth indeed, my daughter says so. Yet we're good that Benedict knew of it for some other. If she will not discover it. To what end? He would but make a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse. And he should, it whoreloans, to hang him. She's an excellent sweet lady. And out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. And she's excaten wise. In everything but love and Benedict. Hero thinks surely she will die, for she says she will die. If he, her, not, and she will die, ere she makes her love known. And she will die if he wooer, rather than she would ate one brick of her accustomed crossness. She would well if she make tender of her love. It is very possible he'll scorn it, for the man, as you know all, has a contemptible spirit. Well, I am sorry for your nace. Shall we go see Benedict 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 out her heart in first. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter. Let it cool the while. I love Benedict well and I could wish he would be modestly examining himself to see how much he is unworried to have so good a laden. My lord, will you walk? Dinner's ready. If he do not doubt honor upon this, I will never trust in expectation. Let there be the same net spread for her and that must your daughter and her gentle woman carry. The sport will be when they hold on an opinion of another's doldage and no such matter, that's the same that I would say, which will be merely a don's show. Let us send her to call him into dinner. This can be no trick. The conference was sadly born. Hey, of the truth that this from here, oh. I seem to pity the lady. Seems her affections have a full bit. Oh, of me. Oh, it must be requited. I hear how I am censored. They say I will bear myself proudly if I perceive the love come from her. They say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they that can hear the detractions and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair to the truth. I can bear them witness. And bur to us, too, so I cannot reprove it. And wise but for love in me. Oh, I thought that there's no dissing to her wits and no wits argument for a full day. For I will be horribly in love with her. I'm a chance to have some old quirks and remnants of wits broken on me because I've railed so long against mariage, but she'll not be appetite alter. A man loves the man in his youth that he cannot endure on his age. She'll clip some sentences in these paper bullets to the brand awe of a man from the career of his humor. No, the world must be papaled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By the stage, she's a fair lady. I do spy some mocks of lovin' her. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come into dinner. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pens. I took no more pens for those thanks than you take pens to thank me. If it had been painful, I would not have come. You'd take pleasure then in the message. Yeah, just so much as you might take upon a knife's pint and choke a die with all. You have no stomach, senior. Very well. Moonwheel, I am sent to bid you come into dinner. There's a double meaning in that. I took no more pens for those thanks, than you took pens to thank me. That is much to say. Any pens that I take for you is as easy as playing. If I do not take pity over her, I am a villain. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor. There shall that find the cousin Beatrice. Whisper her air, and tell her I and Arcella walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse is Oliver. And say that thou overhurst us, and better stand unto the plagued board to listen to our purpose. This is thy office. Bear thee well in it then, and leave us alone. I'll make her come. I warrant you presently. Now, Arcella. When Beatrice doth come, as we do trace this alley up and down, our talk must be only a bit, Benedict. When I dename him, and let it be thy part, to praise him more than ever man did merit, my talk to thee must say how Benedict is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter, his little keep is our crafty arrow made, that only wounds by her say. Now begin. So look where Beatrice, like a laughing run, close to the ground, and her accompaniment very announced my part of the dialogue. Then go we near her, that air whose note of false sleep bait that we lay for it. Not truly our slush is to disdainful. I know her spirits are as coy and wild as haggards of the rock. But are you sure that Benedict loves Beatrice so entirely? Oh, so says the prince and man you chose at Lorde. And did they bid you tell her a bit, madame? Well, they did enthrase me to acquaint her of it, but I persuaded them if they loved Benedict to wish and wrestle with the fiction and never to let Beatrice move it. Why did you so, doth not the gentleman deserve as full and fortunate a bit, as ever Beatrice shall count to all? Oh, God of love, I know he doth deserve as much as may be yelled at to a man. The nature never framed a woman's heart to prodder stuff than that of Beatrice, disdain and scorn tried sparkling in her eyes, misprising what they look on, and her wit values itself so, I only bet to her all matter else things wake. She cannot love nor take no shape, no project of affixion. She is so self-endured. Sure, I think so. And therefore, certainly, it were not good she knew his love, lest she makes part of it. Why, you speak truth, I never yet saw man, a wise, a noble, young, a rarely fated, but she would spell him backward. Sure, sir, such carpet is not commendable. Hmm, but who dare to tell him so? If I should speak, she would muff me into air. Oh, she would laugh me up myself, press me to death wit. Yet tell her of it, tear what she will say. No, rather I will go to Benedict and counsel him to fight against his passion, and then truly I'll devise some honest slanders to stay in my cousin with. On doth not know how much an ill word may implies in lichen. Do not do your cousin such a wrong. She cannot bear without so much true judgment, having so swift and excellent wit, as she is prized to have, as to refuse so rare a gentleman a senior Benedict. Indeed, he has an excellent good name. His excellence did earn it, have you had it? When are you married, madam? Why, every day, tomorrow. Come go in, I'll show you some attires and have thy counsel, which is the best if I wish me tomorrow. She's ten, oh, aren't you? We have caught her, madam. If it moves so, then lovin' goes thy ass. Some keep it, because of their house. Some with traps. What fire is in my nears? Can this be true? Stand, I, condemned, for pride in scorn so much. Contempt, farewell, and made in pride adieu. No glory lives behind the back of such. And Benedict, love on, I will requite thee. Time in my wild heart to thy lovin' hand. If thou just love, my kindness shall incite thee to bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say thou doest deserve, and I believe it better than reportedly. Adieu, but stay till your mariage be consummate, and then go, I, toward Argonque. I'll bring it to thee, my lord, if you'll not save me. Nay, that would be as great a sale in the new gloss of your mariage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I'll only be bold with Benedict, for his company, for from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot he is almer. Gaon, say I'm not as it had been. So say I, me thinks you are sadder. I hope you pay in love. Hang him, truant. There's no true drop of blood in him to be truly touched with love. If he be sick, he wants money. I have the toothache. Draw it. Hang it. He must hang it first and draw it afterwards. But, say, for the toothache. Where is but humour or a worm? Well, every own cannot master a grave but here that has it. If hate cannot be in love with some woman, there is no blame in old signs of brush's heart the mornings. What should I call it? Nay, a robb's himself with civet. Can you smell him out by that? That's as much to say. The swear to you it's in love. The greatest note of it is in his melancholy. And when was he want to wash his face? Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, he is in love. Nay, but I know who loves him. Yes, this is no charm for the toothache. Olten your, walk aside with me. I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby horses must not hear. From the life to break with him about Beatrice. It is even so, hero and Margaret have by display the parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. My lord and brother, God save you. Good end, brother. If you're a lesser served, I would speck with you. In private? If it plays you. Yet, count Claudio my hair for what I speck of concerns him. What's the matter? It means your lordship to be married tomorrow. You know he does. I know not that when he knows what I know. There be any impediment, I pray, I'll discover it. You may think I love you not, let that appear her after, and aim better at me by that I know will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in daringness of heart, hath hope to affect your ensuing marriage. Surely suit you'll spend, and labor ill bestowed. What's the matter? I came here to tell you, and circumstances shortened, for she hath been too long a talking of. The lady is dislyle. Who, hero? Him she, Minato's hero, your hero, every man's hero. Dislyle? The word is too good to paint out her wickedness. I could say she were worse. Think you have a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not, till further warrant. Go, but with me tonight. She'll see her chamber window enter, and even the night before her wedding day. If you love her, then tomorrow weather. But it would be better fit your honor to change your mind. May this be so. I will not think it. If you dare not trust what you see, confess not that you know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough. When you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly. If I say anything tonight, why should I not marry her tomorrow, in the concubine where I should wed, there will I shame her. And as I would for thee to attain her, I will gybe with thee to disgrace her. I will disparage her no further, till you are my witness. Bear it coldly, but till night, and let the issue show itself. Day untortally turned. Oh, mischievous strange with water. Plague right well prevented. So will you say, when you have seen the sequel. Are you good men and true? Yeah, or else it were petty, but they should suffer salvation body and soul. Nay, that were a punishment too good for him. If they shall have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince's watch. Well, give them their charge, neighbor dogbury. First, who think you the most desertless man to be constable? You ought to kick, sir. All right, George, say a call, for they can write and read. How may Heather never say a call? God have blessed you with a good name. And to be well-favoured, man is a gift of fortune. But to write and read, that comes my letter. Both, fish master, constable. You have, I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why give God thanks and make no boast of it. For you writing and reading, let that appear, for there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch. Therefore, bear you the lanthorn, the lan, the lan. Bear you the lanthorn. This is your charge. You shall comprehend all vagrums. Men, you are to bid any man stand in the prince's name. How, if you not stand? Why, then, take none out of him, but let him go and presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of an aide. If he will not stand when he has been, he is none of the prince's subjects. Shrewt! And they are to meddle with none but the prince's subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets. For, for the watch to babble and talk is most tolerable and not to be endured. We will rather sleep than talk. We know what belongs to a watch. That is why you spake like a most ansiant and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleep and should offend. If you may to faith, 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 him, quiet the more is for your honour. If we know him to be a faith, shall we not lay hands on him? Truly by our office you may, but I think that they that touch pitch will be defiled. The most palatable way for you, if you do take a faith, is to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company. You have always been called a merciful man, partner. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who have any honesty in him. It is very true. This is the end of the charge. Well, masters, good night. And there will be any matter of weight chances. Call up me. Keep your fellow's councils and your own. Good night. Come, never. Well, masters, we are a church. Let us go sit upon the church bench till two and then out to bed. Onward, Marr, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Senor Leonato's door for the wedding being there tomorrow. There's a great coil tonight. Adieu. Be vigilant. I beseech you. Pace stir not. I can't ride, I say. Airman and what the hell goes? Oh, Marr, my old bitch thought there would be a scab fallout. I will answer them of that. Now, forward with thy tail. Stanley close, then. And I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. Therefore, no, I have earned a dungeon a thousand dockets. It's possible that any villainy should be so dare. Well, I should rather ask if it were possible that any villainy should be so rich for when rich villains have need of pawns, poor ones may make what price they will. I wonder at it. Some trays and masters. Get them close. They're not here, somebody. No, it was the vain on the house. Not so near there. But no, that I have tonight, Wood Margaret, the Lady-Hero's gentlewoman by the name of Hero. She leans me out of Mistress's chamber when the bitch be a thousand times goodnight. But I tell this tale wildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my master planted and placed and possessed by my master, Don John, sort of far off in the orchard this amiable encounter. And both the Margaret was Hero. I told them dead, the Prince and Claudio, but the devil, my master, know she was Margaret. And partly by his owls, which first possessed them, and partly by the dark knight, which did deceive them but shapely by my ability, which did confirm, and he slandered that Don John had made, away when Claudio enraged, swore he wouldn't mate her as he was appointed the next morning at the temple, and there before the whole congregation shamed her with what he saw or not and sent her home again without a husband. We charge you in the Prince's name, stand. Call up the right, Master Constable. We have recovered the most dangerous piece of literary that Hero was known in the Commonwealth. Masters, never speak. We charge you. Let us obey you to go with us. We are like to prove a good leg commodity being taken up with these men. Come on. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, will obey you. Because it's better? And does that hurt a right? It's good, my lady. It's better to come with her. Well. I think you are the ribato better. No, pretty good leg. I'll wear this. Well, my troll's not so good. And I'll warrant you cousin will say so. My cousin's a fool, and that worked another. I'll wear it known for this. I like them who tire with them excellently. And you gowns are more rare, most rare fashion, if they. I saw them Duchess of Midlands come, they pray so. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding the heavy. That will be heavier soon, by the weight of a man. Bye. Come home, they aren't not to send. Well, what, lady? Well, speak in honourably. It's not marriage unruble in a beggar. It is not your lord unruble without marriage. Is there any harm in the heavier for a husband? None, I think, and be the right husband. I'm a rare boy, but the waist is light and not heavy. Ask my lady to be at your cell, say she comes. Good morrow, cause. Good morrow, cause. Good morrow, sweet hero. Why, oh, no. You speak in such thick tune. I am out of all of the tune, I think. By my troll's I am exceeding ill. For a hawk, a horse, and a husband. For the letter that begins them all. H. And you're being that turnt turk, there's no more sailing by the start. What means the fool, troll? No, T. and I, but God said everyone their heart's desire. These glows, they can't clean me. They are excellent parking. I am stuffed, cause, and I cannot smell. I'm made of stuffed bears, good catchin' of gold. God help me. God help me, how long have you professed apprehension? Ever since you left it. Do not my wit become my rarity. It is not sane enough, you should wear it in your catch. When my troll finds it. Get you some of this distilled carduous benedictus and lay it to your heart. It is the only thing for a quam. There, but, Christo, what's with this little benedictus? Why, benedictus, you have some moral in this benedictus. Moral, no, by my trolls. I have no moral meaning. I meant plain holy thistle. You may think, perchance, that I think you are in love. Pardon me, by your lady, I'm not such a fool to think what I list. Nor a list not to think what I can. Nor, indeed, I cannot think. If I would think my heart ought to think that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Benedictus was such another, and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his mate without grudging. And how you may be converted, I know not. But, my thanks, you look with your eyes as though there are women do. What pest is this, thy tongue-kips? Not a false gallop. Madam! It's true, the prince, the carriage, senior benedictun, John, and all the gallops who'd had him come to fetch you to church. Will help me to dress good cause. Good make, good arse. What would you with me, honest neighbor? Mary, sir, I would have some confidence with you that discerns you nearly. I pray you, for you see, it's a busy time with me. Yes, and truth it is, sir. Goodman Burgess, sir, speaks a little of the matter. An old man, sir. In his wits, they're not so blunt as God help, I would desire they were. But in faith, as 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 want to stir the night. Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbor Burgess. Neighbors, you are tedious. Blaze is your worship to say so. We are, but we are the poor Duke's officers. But truly, for my non-part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to bestow it on all of your worship. All thy tedious on me, huh? Yay, and worth a thousand times more than this, for I here is a good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city. And though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. And so am I. I must leave you. One word more, sir. Our works, sir, have indeed comprehended to a specious person, and we would have them this morning to examine before your worship. Take their examinations yourself and bring it to me. I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. Lord! They stand for you to give your doctor to her husband. I'll wait upon them, I am ready. Go, good partner, go get you Francis, say a call, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to examine these men! Come, friar, Francis, be brave. Only to the plain form of mariage, and you shall recount their particular duties after this. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady. No. Would you be married to her? Friar, you come to marry her. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count. I do. I feather you know of any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined. I charge you on your soul's totter. Know you any hero? No, no, no, no, you are not count. I dare make his answer known. Oh, what men dare do, what men may do, what men daily do not know in what they do. How now, interjections. Stand thee, my friar, father, by your lave, will you with fray of unconstrained soul give me this maid your daughter. As freely so, and as God did give her me. What have I to give you back whose worth may counterpies this rich and precious gift? Nolten, unless you render her again. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. There, Leonardo, take her back again. Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She's what the sign and semblance of her honor. Behold, like a maid she blushes here. Comes not that blood she has modest evidence to witness simple virtue. Would you not swear all you that sayer that she were a maid by these exterior shows, but she is known. She knows the hate 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 with an approved wanton. Dear my lord, if you and your own proof had thankless the resistance of her youth and made the fate of her virginity. I know what you would say. If I have known her, you would say she did embrace me as a husband and so extend you at the forehand scene. No, Leonardo. I never tempted her with word too large, but as a brother to his sister, showed bashful sincerity and calmly love. I'm the same to ever, otherwise to you. Out on this seam and all right against it. Yes, my lord, well, that he don't spake so wide. Sweet prince, why spake not you? What should I spake? I stand dishonored that have gone about to link my dear friend to a common stare. Are these things spoken or do I but dream? Sir, they are spoken and these things are true. This looks not like a nuptial. True, oh, God! Leonardo, stand I here. Let me but move one question to your daughter by that fatherly and coyly poor that you have in her bid her answer truly. I charge you, as thou art my child. God defend me how am I beset. What kind of cataclysm is this? To make it answer truly to your name. Is it not Harrow? Who can blot that name with any just reproach? Mary, that can hero. Hero itself can blot on Hero's virtue. What man was he talk with you yesterday night out at your window betwixt twelve and one? I talked with no man at that orma, lord. Well, then you are no maiden. Leonardo, I am sorry you must hear. Upon my honour, myself, my brother, and this gravid count did say her, hear her, at that or last night, talk with a ruffian at her chamber window, who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, confess the vilest encounters they have had a thousand times in secret. Oh, hero, what a hero has still been if half that outward graces had been placed about thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart. A fair thee well must fall most fair, fair well though pure in piety and pious purity. Thou know man's dagger here a pint for me. No! If I now cousin, wherefore seek ye down? Come, let us go. This thing comes us to light smother her spirits up. How doth the lady? Dad, I think, how fungal! It's in your benedict, friar! O pit, take not away thy heavy hand. Death is the fairest cover for her shame that may be wished for. I know, cousin Hera. Have comfort, Lady. Does that look up? Yeah, 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 op that eyes. For did I think thou wouldest not die quickly? My self would, on the rarer of reproach, strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but own. She died for that fugal nature's frame, or won too much by thee. Why had I own? Why ever was thou lovely in my eyes, valuing of her? Why, she, she is fallen to a pit of ink, that the wide sea had dropped too few to wash her clean again, and salt too little, which may, Cason, give to her foul-tainted flesh. Sir, sir, be patient. From a part I am so tired and wonder, I know. Not what to say. Oh, on my soul, my cousin is the lie. Lady, were you her bed-fellow last night? No, truly not. Although, until last night, I have this 12-month-ben, her bed-fellow. Confirmed. Confirmed! Oh, that is stronger made, which was before, barred up with ribs of iron. Would the princes lie? And Claudio lie, who loved her so, that spaken of her foulness washed it with tears? Hence from her, let her die. Tear me a little. For I have only been silent so long, and given way into this course of fortune. For not another lady, I have marked a thousand blushing apparitions to start into her face. A thousand instant shames in angel whiteness. Bear away those blushes, and in her eye, there hath a pair to fire, to burn the errors that these princes hold against her meddin truth. Call me a fool, if this sweet lady lie, not guiltless hair under some fighting error. Fryer, it cannot be. Thou sayest, that all the grays that she had left, is that she will not abide by her damnation, a sin of perjury, that she denies it. Lady, what man is her you are accused of? They know that do accuse me. I know not. If I no more of any men alive, that which made in monestate of warrant, that all my sins that mercy. All my father, prove you that any man with me conversed at oars unmet, or that I, yesterday night, maintained the change of words between 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 tile in frame of villainies. I know not. If they spake by truth of her, these hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honour, the proudest of them shall well hear of it. Pause a while, and let my counsel swear you in this case. Your daughter heard the princes left for dead, that her a while be secretly kept in, and publish it, that she is dead indeed. Maintain a mourn and ostentation, and on your family's old monument, hang mournful apotapsing to our rights, that apportain unto her burial. What shall become of this? What will this do? Mary, this well-carried shall on her behalf change slander to remorse. That is some good. She dying, as it must be so maintained, upon the instant that she was accused, shall be lamented, pitted, and excused. So shall it bear with Claudio. When he shall hear she died upon his words, the idea of her life shall sweatly crepe into the study of his study of imagination. Then shall he mourn, and wish she had not so accused her. No, though he thought his accusation true, let this be so, and doubt not but success, will fashion the event in better shape. Then I can set it down in likelihood, and if it sort not well, you may conceal her as best befits her wounded reputation in some reclusive and religious life out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. Senua Leonato, let the friar advise you. And though, you know, my inwardness and love is very much under the Prince in Claudio, yet by my honour, I will deal in this as secretly, and justly as your soul should do with your body. Being that I flow in grief, the smallest twine shall lead me. It is well consented, presently away, for to strange source, strangely, they strain the cure. Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day, perhaps, is but prolonged. Have patience, and endure. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? Yeah, and I will wait for a while longer. I will not desire that. You have no reason, I do it freely. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. How much might the man deserve of me that would write her? Is there any way to show such friendship? Very even way, but no such friend. May a man do it? It is a man's office, but not yours. I do love noting in the world so well as you. It is not that strange. As strange as the thing and all, not. It were as possible for me to say, I loved noting so well as you, but believe me not. And yet, I lie not. I confess noting, and nor I deny noting. I am sorry for my cousin. I'm sorry, Beatrice, thou loves me. Do not swear by it and ate it. I will swear by it that thou love me, and I'll 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 to love thee. Well, thank God, forgive me. What a fens, sweet Beatrice. You have stabbed me in a happy oar. I was about to protest to love you. But do it with all the heart. I love you with so much of my heart that no one is left to protest. I can't really do anything for thee. Kill Claudia. Not for the wide world. You kill me to deny it. Farewell. Terrible sweet Beatrice. I am gone, though I am 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 I as you be friends with me than fight with my enemy. It's glorious, I'm enemy. Is it not approved in the height of villain? Perhaps slandered, scorned, dishonoured, my kin's woman? Oh, that I were a man. What, fair her in hand until they come to take hands, and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, oh, God that I were a man, I would eat his heart in the market place. Fare me, Beatrice. Stop with a man out into a window, a proper say. Nay, but Beatrice. Princess and Counties, Shirley, a princely testimony, a goodly count confect, a sweet gallant Shirley. Oh, that I were a man for his sake, or that I had any friend that would be a man for my sake. But manhood is melted into curses, valorant to compliment, and man are only turned into tongue and tremors to. He is now his valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie and swears it. I can not be a man with wishin', therefore I will die a woman with graven. T-Terry, good Beatrice, by this hand I love thee. Use it for my love some other way than swear and buy it. Think on your soul, that Count Claudio hath wronged hero. Yay, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. Enough, I am engaged. I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. Has he heard of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead, so farewell. Let's be the malabactors. Mary, that's am I, and my partner. Hey, 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. Yay, Mary, let them come before me. What is your name, friend? Baraccio. Pray, write down Baraccio. Yours, sirrah. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrad. Write down Master Gentleman Conrad. Masters, it is proved already that you are a little better than false neds, and it will go more to be thought so shortly. How answer you, yourselves? Sorry, sir, we say we are none. A marvelous witty fellow, I assure you. But I will go about with him. Come, you heather, sirrah, a word in your ear. I say to you, it is thought you are false neds. Sir, I say to you, we are known. Master Constable, you go not the way to examine. You must call forth the watch that are the accusers. Yay, Mary, that's the f-diss way. Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you in the Prince's name. Accus these men. This man said, sir, that Don John, the Prince's brother, was a villain. What heard you, him say, us? Mary, that he ever saved a dozen dockets of Don John for accusing the lady hero wrongfully. Flat burglary, as our was committed. Yeah, by the mass that it is. What else, fellow? And that Count Claudio did man upon his words to disgrace Hera before the whole assembly, and not Mary up. Oh, villain! Thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this! What else? This is all. And this is more masters than they can deny. Prince John is this morning, sacredly stolen away. Hera was in the manner accused, and in this very manner refused. And upon the grave of this suddenly died. Master Constable, lead these men to be bound and brought to Leonardo. I will go them before and show him their examination. Come, let them be opinioned. Oh, wait, you're an ass, you're an ass. Thou not suspect my place. Doost, thou not suspect my years. Oh, that he were here to write me down an ass. But masters, remember that I am an ass. Thou be not written down. Yet not forget that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety and shall be probed upon me by good witness. I am a wise fellow. And what is more, an officer. And what is more, a householder. And what is more, a pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina. And, all that knows the law, go to. And, a rich fellow enough, go to. And, a fellow that half had losses and that half had two gowns. And everything handsome about him. Bring him away, oh, that I had been written down an ass. And does not wisdom thus to second grave against yourself? I pray thee, saith thy council, which fowls upon my heirs as profitless as water to a sieve. Give not, may council, nor let no comfort delight mine air. But such own whose wrongs do suit with mine bring me a father that so loved his child, whose joy of hers overwhelmed like mine and I of him will gather patience. No, no, it is all men's office to speck patience to those that ring under the load of sorrow. But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, to be so moral. When he shall endure like himself, therefore give me no council, my grave cries louder than advertisement. There in do men from children nothing differ. I pray thee, Pace, I will be flesh and blood, for there was never yet a philosopher that could endure the toothache, pace it. Yet bend not all the arm upon yourself, make those that do avenge us suffer too. There thou speakest raiser. Nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me, hero is belied, and that shall Claude, you know, and show shall the Prince, and all of them that thus dishonour her. Here comes the Prince and Claudio haste to lie. Good day, good day. Good day to both of you. Here you are, 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 own. Nay, do not quarrel with us, old man. If they could write himself with quarrel and some of us would lie. Who wrongs them? Marry thou, dost wrong me, thou December thou. Thou hast so wronged, my innocent child, and me, that I am forced to lay my reverence by, and with the gray hairs and bruise of many days do challenge thee to trial of a man. I say thou hast been lied, my innocent child. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, and she lies buried with her ancestors, in a tomb that never scandal-slat, suits this of hers. Framed by thy villainy. My villainy, that thy villainy. Thy, thy sakes of her. You say not right, old man. My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body. Away, and we'll have to do with you. Cance thou so daft hast killed my child. If thou killst me by, thou shalt kill a man. I shall kill two of us and men indeed. But that's no matter. Let him kill on first. When men wear me, let him answer me. Sir, by I'll whip you from your fine infants. Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. Brother. Content yourself, God knows! I loved my niece, and she is dead. Slander to death by villains that dare as well answer a man in dead, as I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Pies, apes, braggarts, jacks, milkshakes. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your peasants. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death. But on my honor, she was charged with nothing but what was true and very full of proof. My lord, my lord. I will not hear you. I will be heard. I'm shall, or some of us will smart for it. Come away, brother. Say, say, here comes the man we went to seek. No, senior, what news? Good day, my lord. We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are high-proof melancholy, and would from habit bait in a way, would though use thy wit. It is in the scabbard, shall I draw it? To sit on the whip by the side. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrel's draw to pleaser us. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick or angry? Sir, I shall mend your wit in the career when you charge it against me. Shall I speak a word in your ear? God bless me from a challenge. You're a villain. But just not. I will make it good, how you dare. With what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right or up, protest your cowardice. You've killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. Well, I will mate you, so I may have good share. What, a face? A face? A face, thank me. He hath bid me to a calves-head and a capon, for which, if I do not carve, most curiously say when I've snot, shall I not find a woodcock too. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily. I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thou with the other day. I said, thou hast a fine wit. True, says she, a fine little one. No, said I, a great wit. Right, says she, a great grosson. Nay, said I, a good wit. Just, said she, it hurts nobody. Nay, said I, the gentleman is wise. Certain, said she, a wise gentleman. Nay, said I, he hath the tongs. That I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he foreswore on Tuesday morning. There's a double tong, there's two tongs. Thus did she and all together transhape that particular virtues. Yet at last, she concluded with a sigh, thou wasst the properest man in Italy. For the wit she wept heartily and said she cared not. Yeah, that she did, but yet for all that, and if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly. The old man's daughter told us all. But when shall we see the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedict's head? Yeah, in text underneath, here dwells Benedict, the married man. Fare ye well, by. You know my mind. Lord, for your many courtesies I thank you. I must discontinue your company. Your brother the bastard has fled from Messena. You have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. From a lord lack of beard there. Hey, and I shall meet. Until then, peace be with him. He is an honest and most profound earnest and I'll warrant you for the love of a Beatrice. That's a challenge, they. More sincerely? What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and haws and leaves off his whip. What's off to you? Did you say my brother had fled? Come ye, sir, if justice cannot tame you, you shall ne'er weigh more raisins in her balance. Oh, no, two of my brother's men bound. I reckon after their offense, my lord. Officers, what offence have these men done? Marie, sir, they have committed false report. Moreover, they have spoken untruths. Secondarily, they are slanders. Sixth and lastly, they have blighted lady. Thirdly, they have verified unjust things and to conclude they are lying naves. Who have offended you, masters? That you are thus bound to your answer. This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence? Sweat prince, let me go no farther to my answer. Do you hear me? And let this count kill me. I have to say, even your very eyes, what your wisdoms could not discover these charatholes have brought to life. Who in the night, or heard me confessing to this man, how Don John, your brother, incensed me to slander the Lady Harrow? How you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Harrow's garments. Oh, you disgraced her when you should marry her. My villainy they have upon record, which I would rather sail with my death than repay it over to my shame. The Lady is dead upon mine in my master's thoughts, accusation, and very flag. I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. Well, there's not this speech like iron through your blood. Who trunked poison who have these uttered it? But did my brother set thee on this? Yes, and paid me richly for the practice of it. He is composed and framed of treachery, and fled his here upon this villainy. Sweet hero! Now the image doth appear in the rare semblance I loved at first. Come, bring away the play and tips. By this time, our sexton have performed scenarioly an auto of the matter. And masters, do not forget to specify when time and place shall serve that I am anast. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes, that when I note another man like him, I may evide him. Which of these is he? If you would know your wrong, there are luck on me. Are thou the slave that with the breath hath killed my innocent child? Yea, and I alone. No, not so, villain. Thou benliest thyself. Here stand a pair of honourable men. A third has fled that hath a hand of it. I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death. Record it with your high and worthy dates. It was bravely done, if you be-think you of it. I know not how to pray apace since yet I must spake. Choose your revenge yourself and pose me to what penance your invention can lay upon my sin. I cannot bid you, my daughter, live, that were impossible. But I pray you both. Possess the papal in Messena Heron, how innocent she died. And if your love can labour art in sad invention, hang her out an epitaph upon her tomb, and sing it to her bones tonight. Tomorrow morning come ye to my house, and since ye could not be in my son-in-law, be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, and she alone is there in hope to both of us. Give her the right ye should have given her cousin. And so dies my revenge. Oh, noble sir, your overkindest dooth-hit ring tears from me. I do embrace your offer and dispose from henceforth with poor Claudio. Tomorrow, then, I'll expect her coming. Tonight I take my leave. This nutty man shall face to face be brought to Margaret, though I believe was packed to now this round, hired to it by her brother. No, by my son, she was not. Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me. But always hath been just and virtuous, and any thing that I do know by her. Moreover, sir, which, indeed, 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. I thank thee for thy care and honest pays. Until tomorrow morning, lords, bella. We will not fail. Tonight I'll mourn with hero. Sweet Beatrice. Still come when I call thee. Yes, and you are under part when you bid me. I'll stay but till then. Then he's spoken very well now. And yet, Erego, let me go with that ac'em, which is with no one watcheth the past between you and Claudio. Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. Foul words is but foul winds, and foul winds is but foul breath, and foul breath is nigh some, and therefore I will depart on kiss. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible as the wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio, I will undergo as my challenge, and either I must short lay hair from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. I'd appraise thee now. Tell me, for which of my bad parts did thou first fall in love with me? With a mile together, which meant so politic a state of evil that they will not admit in a good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer a love for me? Suffer a love of a good epithet. I do suffer a love indeed, for a love they against my will. In spite of your heart, I think, the last poor heart. If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hath. Thou and I are too wise to move peaceably. And thou tell me, how do thou cause it? Very ill. How do you? Very ill, too. Serve God, love me, and mend. Never will I leave you, too, for here comes the one in haste. Madam, you must come to your uncle, for it is proved my lady hero has been falsely accused. The prince and Claudio mightily abused, and don John, the author of it all, who is bled and gone. Will you come presently? Will you go hear this news in your? I will live in the heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes. Then, moreover, I will go with thee to the uncles. Is this the monument of Leonardo? Done to death by slanderous tongues was the hero that hair lies. Death and garden of her wrongs gives her fame, which never dies. So the life that died with shame, that lives in death with glorious fame, hang though there upon thy tongue, praising her when I am dumb. Now unto thy bones goodnight, early will I do this right. Let us hence and put on other wades, and then to Leonardo's we will go, and hymen now with luckier issue speeds, and this for whom we render up this woe. Did I not tell you, Sheriff, as innocent? So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her, upon the air that you heard and debated? Well, daughter, and you gentlemen now, withdraw into a chamber by yourselves. And when I sin for you, come hither masked. Friar, I must entreat you pain to think. To do what, senior? To bind me, bur and do me, one of them? Senior Leonardo, truth it is, good senior, your niece, regards me with an eye of favour. That I, my daughter Lenter, is most true. And I deal with an eye of love requiter. The sight whereof I think you had from me, from Claudio and the prince. But what's your will? Your answer, sir, is enigmatic, but from a will, my will is your good will, may stand with ours this day to be congenial in the state of honourable marriage. In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. My heart is with your liking. My grand ma'el. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Good morrow, prince, good morrow, Claudio. We here attend you. Are you yet determined today to marry my brother's daughter? I'll hold my mind. Call her forth, brother. Good morrow, Benedict. What's the matter that you have such a february face, so full of frost, of storm, of cloudiness? I think he thinks upon the savage bull. Tush, fair nutman, will tip thy horns with gold, and all Europa shall rejoice at day, as once Europa did, at musty Jove, when he would play the noble best in move. Bull Jove, sir, have an amiable low. In some such strange ball lips, your father's cow have got a cap on that same noble feet, much like to ye, for you have just his blade. For this, I owe ye, here come other reckonings. Which is the lady I must say's upon? This, say me, she, and I do give you her. Why, then, she's mine. Sweet, let me see her face. Oh, no, I'll tell you, I'll tell you take her hat. Before the friar, and swear to marry her. Give me your hand before this holy friar. I am your husband, if you like, and me. And when I lived, I was your other wife. And when you loved, you were my other husband. Another hero? Milton Sartor. Well, one hero died defiled, but I do live, and surely as I live, I am a maid. A former hero, hero that is dead. She died, my lord, whilst her slander lived. Al this amazement, can I qualify when after that the holy rites are ended? I'll tell you largely a fair hero's death. Menton, but wonder send another unto the chapel that is presently. Soft and fair friar, which is Beatrice? I answer to that name. What is your will? Do not you love me? Well, I know, no more than reason. Why, then, your uncle and the Prince and Claudio have been to see if this were you dead. Do not you love me? True, no, no more than reason. Why, then, my cousin, Margaret and Ursula are much to say for they did swear you did. Guess where you were almost sick for me? Guess where you were well-nigh dead for me? There's no matter, then you do not love me. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. And I'll be sworn upon it that he loves her, but for her is a paper written in his hand, a fountainsonet of his own pure brain, fashion to Beatrice. And there's another wint in the cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket containing her fixail unto Benedict. Amiracle, here's her own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee, but by this I'd like to take thee for pity. I would not deny you, but by this good day I yelled upon grant persuasion and heartlight to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumptuous case. I will stop your mouth. A dose to the Benedict, the married man. I'll tell thee what, Prince, a college of woodcrackers cannot flaunt me out my humour. Just don't think I care for a satyr and epigram. Come, come, we are friends. Let's have a dance, or we are married, that we may light in our hearts and our wives' eels. We'll have dancing afterwards. First, in my word, therefore play music. Prince, thou art sad. Get thee a wife, get thee a wife. There is no staff more reverent than own, tipped with orn. Lord, your brother John is tain in flight and brought with armoured men back to Miss Anna. I think not on him till tomorrow. I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Come, strike up pipers. Curly, start having our talkbacks. We experienced a little bit of technical difficulties with our live stream, but I am told that we have audio on that, is that we do have audio, so I've got something. So, if anyone is still listening with the live stream, feel free to participate in this talkback by commenting on our Facebook page, facebook.com. It's on Weired Ensemble Theater or tweet us at Weired Underscore Ensemble or just tweet using hashtag HowlRoundTV or hashtag MachadooP. It's mouthful, better than at the beginning. Anyway, yeah, so to give everyone a little brief summary of where this started, I did some of this work in college and that was four years ago and I've kept up with it then. This recreation is put together by Historical Linguists. The work that we are chiefly drawing on is by David Crystal, who's a British historical linguist. And the evidence that this draws on is largely the spellings and the first folios in the quartos. I'm analyzing the rhymes because if you've read Midsummer or the songs, you'll notice that many of them don't work. And then there were also historical commentators or well, contemporaneous commentators who were writing at the time telling us things about what they did and that's helped confirm a lot of things. So first, I'm kind of curious what audience reaction is to hearing this sound, particularly in relation to what you've heard from Shakespeare before. Yeah, it's kind of one of the interesting things is that we don't have a lot of evidence suggesting class divisions in the sound, especially for a lot of things that we typically associate, especially with British accents, with class markers, like if you compare a standard verses a Cockney accent, like all that H-dropping or saying run in and jump in instead of running and jumping. There's not so much that division in that instead. Does it sound like other things that you've heard? Does it sound familiar in any other way? Other accents, frequently people say, oh, this sounds to me like Irish or Scottish. Yeah, yeah, there are all sorts of little places that you can pull from, but it's also not quite any of those either. It sounds really Scottish. Yeah, there's a lot of hard R in the back in there. Pirates anyone? Yeah, I mean that was the joke, I think the first day of rehearsal, and I gave into it, because I mean there's no avoiding it. When you start going, there is this R sound in there. That's hard to get away from. So I'd like to hear from you guys, how has this affected how you approach this text? Close, we all do exactly the same. I do nothing differently, no. I think it's interesting that you get a lot of puns that you wouldn't get, and you get a lot of the meaning that doesn't necessarily carry over when you speak it in either RP as most British actors would do or just classic American theater standard like we do. One of our favorite comparisons was that the word for whore and the word for hour sound exactly the same in OP or, and we had a couple of jokes, he says to Benedict, you're temporizing with the whores, so he's actually saying you're spending time with cookers. And that just doesn't, it doesn't translate anymore. I actually heard another one for the first time tonight. In the top of act two in the party scene, the line right before, for you were born in a merry-or. Yes. Yeah, I didn't think that. And then you say, no, my lord, my mother cried. It jumped out at me in the way that I really hadn't before. One of my favorite ones is when, I think Claudio says that the bears will not bite you when they mate, but it's meat, but it's mate to say. So yeah, talking about Abbey and She's a Benedict, which is what's a really lovely one that I didn't expect. So it does clear up a lot of the things that, there's a tendency in Shakespeare to be like, oh, well this just doesn't make sense anymore to a moderate audience because you don't have bear baiting anymore, but it's actually, it can make sense. You just might not be hearing it right. Yes, yeah. Are there any questions about a process or any of the choices? So a question for the actors. Did you begin to recognize the diphthongs and the pronunciation outgoing sort of word by word or did you have to, actually, okay. Yes, absolutely, it's so funny because I, if you look at my script, the first things that I say, it's like every single word I'm marking and I'm like crossing things up, I'm writing all of these notes, writing all of these notes, writing all of these notes, writing all of these notes. My two monologues, like I mean, my friend here who I was muttering to in the Arbor the whole time got to peek over my shoulder and see that my monologues are just like wrecked with pencil, but the further we get along the less notes that I took because I was like, oh, I feel like I know what I'm supposed to be saying here and that was really interesting to note going, I mean, we were going pretty much chronologically. Yeah, and so starting at the very beginning, I'm covering my pages and notes and then it gets less and less and less further on, which was really, really fascinating as I, you know, as learning the dialect, yeah. Yeah, I mean, that's something that sort of happens with every dialect you work on over a period of time. I mean, I can go back to my notes the first time I worked with this and it's the same thing, it's everything is covered, but then we were working in rehearsals and I'd have to give them sounds off, and I didn't have my script for this mark, like I had some specific things marked, but I'd have to sort of give that to them off the bat and it wouldn't always be perfect right out the gate, but it would be probably 90% there and then I'd go back and make the correction for them so I'm not feeding them the wrong thing too. So that's a thing, but it's still one of the most useful tools for working with dialect is marking up the script even when you like, I know this. Because then you forget that you know it. You're like, I know how to say the word nothing and you don't anymore. Especially for those words that are so different, like no tin and mani is one of that. Mani, mani, mani, mani, mani, mani, mani, mani, mani. Oh, mani, mani, mani, mani, mani, mani, mani. I think what topped out for me was you spoke every vowel, but this is the only one I'm not talking about, like French with a Scottish accent. Oh, what a nice little thing. So the way you were doing this, you were hitting every vowel. Which sometimes helps it fit into the verse structure. You have a lot of line endings where if you just do the un, it's a nine syllable line which is a short line and then if you add the e-un, it actually fills it out. You don't see it so much in this play because this is mostly prose. But you do see it in the ones here. It's like Midsummer would be. Right, because Midsummer is a ton of rhyming couplets. I think it has the most rhymes of any Shakespeare play. Well, the entire thing is rhyming, I think, or most of it. Well, it would be if it were an OP. So, in large part, yeah. In large part, yeah. Do we have one more question? We have roughly time for that. Okay. Oh, yes, sorry. What was here a new favorite word to pronounce Count. Count. Count and war. I like how Marbles said that. I like all the e-sounds. The eh. The an eh. The an eh. The an eh. The an eh. The an eh. I like the war. The company. The words I could find in my heart, that's one of my favorite things to it, I would have to find in my heart that I know the hard part, that our are, our are, all passed it in. It's really fun. The way I could wear some twirves is yours, why? The Sien's are always my favorite. It's got this musicality to it that we miss now. I like saying us because I knew how to say it. Thank you Erica. Thank you all so much for coming. Until 10.30 or until people trickle out, so feel free to get another drink before you go. It was fun. I have like a small list of like make sure I actually say everything. Yeah, so this is work that we do want to continue doing or I definitely still want to continue doing. So if anyone has in them to make a donation to the Red Ensemble, we are taking donations to our Bank Friday page through the end of the month. We absolutely love any support to bring this to a full production and have a full reversal period. I would like to say they put this together in a really astoundingly short period of time. Probably a shorter period of time than I had any right to ask of them. So I am incredibly proud of the work that they did. But I would like to do more with this because I think there are a lot of interesting things that we can learn from it. However, thank you all so much for joining. Thank you for coming. Thank you so much for coming.