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Much Ado About Nothing, Act 3, Scene 1

Beatrice takes the lovers' bait · William Shakespeare
Every note, for your class

SCENE I. Leonato’s Garden.

Enter Hero, Margaret and Ursula.
HERO
Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour;There shalt thou find my cousin BeatriceProposing with the Prince and Claudio:Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and UrsalaWalk in the orchard, and our whole discourseIs all of her; say that thou overheard’st us,And bid her steal into the pleachedTo interweave branches or growing plants to form a hedge, arch, or shaded enclosure. bower,Where honey-suckles, ripen’d by the sun,Forbid the sun to enter; like favourites,Made proud by princes, that advance their prideAgainst that power that bred it. There will she hide her,To listen our propose. This is thy office;Bear thee well in it and leave us alone.
MARGARET
I’ll make her come, I warrant you, presently.
Exit.
HERO
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,As we do trace this alley up and down,Our talk must only be of Benedick:When I do name him, let it be thy partTo praise him more than ever man did merit.My talk to thee must be how BenedickIs sick in love with Beatrice: of this matterIs little Cupid’s crafty arrow made,That only wounds by hearsay.
Enter Beatrice behind.
HERO
Now begin;For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runsClose by the ground, to hear our conference.
URSULA
The pleasant’st angling is to see the fishCut with her golden oars the silver stream,And greedily devour the treacherous bait:So angle we for Beatrice; who even nowIs couched in the woodbine coverture.Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
HERO
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothingOf the false sweet bait that we lay for it.
They advance to the bower.
HERO
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;I know her spirits are as coy and wildAs haggards of the rock.
URSULA
But are you sureThat Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
HERO
So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord.
URSULA
And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
HERO
They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;But I persuaded them, if they lov’d Benedick,To wish him wrestle with affection,And never to let Beatrice know of it.
URSULA
Why did you so? Doth not the gentlemanDeserve as full as fortunate a bedAs ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
HERO
O god of love! I know he doth deserveAs much as may be yielded to a man;But Nature never fram’d a woman’s heartOf prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,Misprising what they look on, and her witValues itself so highly, that to herAll matter else seems weak. She cannot love,Nor take no shape nor project of affection,She is so self-endear’d.
URSULA
Sure I think so;And therefore certainly it were not goodShe knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
HERO
Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur’d,But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac’d,She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick,Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;If low, an agate very vilely cut;If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;If silent, why, a block moved with none.So turns she every man the wrong side out,And never gives to truth and virtue thatWhich simpleness and merit purchaseth.
URSULA
Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
HERO
No; not to be so odd, and from all fashions,As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,She would mock me into air: O! she would laugh meOut of myself, press me to death with wit.Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d fire,Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:It were a better death than die with mocks,Which is as bad as die with tickling.
URSULA
Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.
HERO
No; rather I will go to Benedick,And counsel him to fight against his passion.And, truly, I’ll devise some honest slandersTo stain my cousin with. One doth not knowHow much an ill word may empoison liking.
URSULA
O! do not do your cousin such a wrong.She cannot be so much without true judgment,—Having so swift and excellent a witAs she is priz’d to have,—as to refuseSo rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
HERO
He is the only man of Italy,Always excepted my dear Claudio.
URSULA
I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,Goes foremost in report through Italy.
HERO
Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
URSULA
His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.When are you married, madam?
HERO
Why, every day, tomorrow. Come, go in:I’ll show thee some attires, and have thy counselWhich is the best to furnish me tomorrow.
URSULA
She’s lim’d, I warrant you,We have caught her, madam.
HERO
If it prove so, then loving goes by haps:Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
Exeunt Hero and Ursula.
BEATRICE
What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much?Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!No glory lives behind the back of such.And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite theeTo bind our loves up in a holy band;For others say thou dost deserve, and IBelieve it better than reportingly.
Exit.