Much Ado About Nothing

I’ll stay in Messina until you’re married, and then I’ll go to Aragon.

I’ll go with you, my lord, if you’ll allow me.

No, taking you away from your new marriage would be like showing a child a new coat and then not letting him wear it. I’ll ask only Benedick to come with me, for from the top of his head to the soles of his feet he’s a joker. He’s evaded love once or twice, and since then Cupid doesn’t dare to shoot at him. Benedick’s heart is like a bell, with his tongue as the clapper: everything his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.

Gentleman, I am not the same man I was before.

I agree. I think you seem more serious.

I hope he’s in love.

Come off it, man! There isn’t a single drop of sincerity in him that could be touched with love. If he looks serious, he must need money.

I have a toothache.

Draw it.

Hang it!

You have to hang it first. Then you can draw it.

What, are you moaning on about your toothache?

It could only have been caused by some humor or worm.

Well, everyone knows how to overcome an injury except the one who actually has one.

I repeat, he’s in love.

No, there’s no love in him, unless you mean his love for strange costumes. He’s a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow, and sometimes wears the clothing of two countries at once: a German from the waist down, with his baggy pants, and a Spaniard from the hips up, with a cloak and no jacket. Unless you’re talking about his love for this kind of foolishness—which, judging from his appearance, he has—he is no fool for love, as you pretend.

If he’s not in love with a woman, then you can’t trust the usual symptoms. He brushes his hat in the mornings. What do you think that means?

Has any man seen him at the barber’s?

No, but the barber’s assistant has been seen with him. The beard that used to decorate Benedick’s cheeks has been shaved off and is now stuffing tennis balls.

Getting rid of the beard definitely makes him look younger.

And he’s rubbed himself with perfume. Can you smell out his secret now?

That’s as good as proof that the sweet young man’s in love.

The biggest clue is his seriousness.

And when has he ever been known to wash his face?

Yes, or to wear cosmetics? I hear what they say about him for doing that.

Indeed, his mocking spirit has now crawled into a lute, and he can be played like an instrument—

Truly, it all adds up to a serious story for Benedick. A conclusion, a conclusion: he is in love.

Oh, and I know who loves him.

I bet I know, too: someone who clearly doesn’t know him at all.

No, she does know him, and she also knows all his bad qualities—and in spite of all this, she still dies for him.

She’ll be buried with her face upwards, then.

This chatter is no cure for my toothache. (to LEONATO) Old sir, please walk with me a bit. I have eight or nine well-considered words to say to you, and I don’t want these fools to hear.

I bet my life he’s gone to speak with Leonato about Beatrice!

It must be. By now, Hero and Margaret have done their part with Beatrice. The two bears won’t bite each other the next time they meet.

My lord and brother, God save you.

Good evening, brother.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you.

In private?

If you wish. But Count Claudio can stay, for what I’m about to say concerns him.

What’s the matter?

(to CLAUDIO) Do you plan on getting married tomorrow?

You know that he does.

I don’t know that, once he knows what I know.

If there’s any reason we shouldn’t get married, I urge you to tell me.

You may think that I don’t love you. I hope that, after I tell you my news, you will think better of me. My brother thinks highly of you, and because of his affection, has helped arrange your marriage—but that was definitely a waste of his time and energy.

Why, what’s the matter?

I came here to tell you—I’ll make this short, since she’s already been talked about for too long—the lady is unfaithful.

Who, Hero?

That’s the one: Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero.

Unfaithful?

The word is too good to represent her wickedness. She is worse than wicked. If you can think of a more awful title, I’ll call her that. But don’t keep wondering without more proof. Come with me tonight, and you’ll see a man enter her bedroom chamber—even tonight, the night before her wedding. If you still love her after that, then marry her tomorrow. But you would be more honorable if you changed your mind.

(to DON PEDRO) Is this possible?

I won’t consider it.

If you won’t risk coming to see her tonight, then don’t claim to know what she’s like. If you follow me, I’ll give you all the proof you need. Once you have seen more and heard more, then you can decide what to do.

If I see anything tonight that convinces me not to marry her, I’ll shame her tomorrow in the very congregation where I would have married her.

And since I wooed her in your name, I’ll join you in disgracing her.

I won’t say anything else about her until you two see things for yourselves. Remain calm until midnight, and then you’ll see what the trouble is.

Oh, this day has turned into a disaster!

Oh, mischief has ruined our plans!

Oh, a plague has been prevented, thank God! That’s what you’ll say once you’ve seen part two.