Much Ado About Nothing

Are you all good and honest men?

Yes they are, otherwise it would be proper for them to suffer salvation, body and soul.

If they had any allegiance when they were chosen for the Prince’s watch, a punishment like that would be too good for them.

Well, give them their assignment, Sir Dogberry.

First, which man do you think is most desertless to be leader of the watch?

Either Hugh Otecake, sir, or else George Seacole, because both of them can read and write.

Come here, Sir Seacole. God has blessed you with a good name. To be good-looking is a matter of luck, but to read and write is a natural gift.

Both of which, master constable—

You have. I knew that would be your answer. Well, for your good looks, sir, thank God and don’t boast about it. As for your reading and writing, use those skills when you can’t use your looks. You’re thought to be the most senseless and fit man here, so you will carry the lantern and be constable. This is your assignment: you will comprehend any vagrant men you see. You are to order all men to stop, in the Prince’s name.

And what if he won’t stop?

Well then, don’t bother with him and let him go. Then immediately call the rest of the watch together and thank God that you’ve gotten rid of such a criminal.

If he won’t stop when he’s told to, then he isn’t one of the Prince’s subjects.

True, and you aren’t supposed to meddle with anyone but the Prince’s subjects. You will also stay quiet in the streets, for a babbling watch is most tolerable and will not be endured.

We’ll sleep instead of talk. We know what’s appropriate for a watch.

Why, you speak like an experienced and quiet watchman. Sleeping on the watch shouldn’t be a problem; just make sure that your weapons don’t get stolen. Also, you’re supposed to visit all the bars and tell anyone who’s drunk to go home and go to bed.

And what if they won’t go?

Well then, leave them alone until they’re sober. If even then they don’t answer to your satisfaction, you can say that they’re not the men you thought they were.

Very good, sir.

If you meet a thief, you can expect him to be dishonest. The less you have to do with that kind of man, the more honest you will be.

So if we know that a man is a thief, should we try to arrest him?

Your position permits you to, but I think that those who stick their hands in pitch get their hands dirty. If you encounter a thief, I think the most peaceable thing to do is to let him be himself—and steal away.

You have always been known as a merciful man, partner.

Truly, I wouldn’t even hang a dog, much more a man who has any honesty in him.

(to the watchmen) If you hear a child crying in the night, you should call the nurse and tell her to quiet the child.

What if the nurse is asleep and doesn’t hear us?

Well then, leave quietly, and let the child’s crying wake up the nurse. The ewe that doesn’t go to her lamb when it baas will never tend to another animal’s child.

That’s very true.

And that’s the end of your assignment. You, constable, are representing the Prince himself. If you meet the Prince in the night, you can order him to stop.

No, by our Lady, I don’t think he can.

I’ll bet any man who knows the law five shillings to one on it. Truly though, you can’t stop the Prince without the Prince’s consent, for the watch shouldn’t offend anyone, and it’s an offense to keep a man without his consent.

By our Lady, I think that’s true.

Ha, ha, ha! Well, gentlemen, good night. And if anything important happens, find me and let me know. Keep each other’s secrets and your own. Good night. Come, friend.

Well gentlemen, we’ve heard our assignment. Let’s sit here on the church bench until two and then go off to bed.

One more thing, good gentlemen. Watch over Signior Leonato’s house; with the wedding being held there tomorrow, there’s a great to-do there tonight. Adieu. Be vigitant, I beg you.

Conrade!

(whispering) Quiet! Don’t move!

Conrade, I say!

I’m here, man, at your elbow.

Come to think of it, I thought I felt a scab there.

I’ll get you for that. Now get on with your story.

Since it’s drizzling, stand under this overhang with me and, like a true drunk, I’ll tell you everything.

(speaking so that only the other WATCHMEN can hear) There’s some treason occurring, gentlemen. Stay here.

You should know I’ve earned a thousand gold pieces from Don John.

Is it possible that any crime could be so valuable?

You should ask instead if it’s possible that any criminal could be so rich. Because when rich villains need poor villains’ services, those poor ones can name the price.

I can’t believe it.

That only proves how inexperienced you are. You know that the style of a man’s jacket or hat or coat means nothing.

Yes, it’s just clothing.

No, I mean, the fashion of a man’s clothing tells us nothing about the man.

Yes, fashion is fashion.

C’mon, I might as well say the fool’s the fool! But don’t you see what a deformed villain fashion is?

(speaking so that only the other WATCHMEN can hear) I know that man, Deformed. For the past seven years, he’s been a wicked thief. He walks around as if he were a gentleman. I remember that name.

Did you hear someone?

Just the weathervane moving.

As I was saying, fashion is a deformed villain. It makes hot-blooded young men spin around feverishly, forever changing their appearances, dictating that sometimes they dress like Pharoah’s soldiers in that grimy painting and sometimes like the priests of the god Baal, as seen in old church windows. And sometimes fashion dresses them like the great Hercules in that dirty, worm-eaten tapestry—the one where his codpiece seems almost as big as his club.

I get all this. And I also understand how fashion changes so quickly that a man’s clothing never gets a chance to wear itself out. But you’re all wound up about fashion, too. Otherwise, why would you stray from your story to blabber on about it?

No, I’m not wound up. But I will tell you that I seduced Margaret, the Lady Hero’s waiting woman, tonight. I called her “Hero” the whole time. She leaned out of her mistress’ bedroom window and told me good night a thousand times—but I am telling this story poorly. I should backtrack and begin with how my master, Don John, arranged for the Prince, Claudio, and himself to witness this friendly encounter from the orchard.

And they thought Margaret was Hero?

The Prince and Claudio did, but the devil, my master, knew that it was Margaret. They believed the charade partially because of my master’s testimony—which first caused them to doubt Hero—and partially because of how dark and deceiving the night was, but mostly because of my villainous actions, which confirmed Don John’s slander. Claudio went away enraged, swearing that he’d meet Hero at the temple as planned and there, before the entire congregation, shame her with what he’d discovered and send her home without a husband.

We charge you, in the Prince’s name, to stop!

Call up the Master Constable Dogberry. We have recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that was ever known in the commonwealth.

And one of them is the criminal Deformed. I know him; he wears a lock of hair.

Gentlemen, gentlemen—

(to BORACHIO) I bet you’ll be forced to bring Deformed forward.

Gentlemen, don’t speak. We obey you to go with us.

We’re probably a very valuable catch for these guys.

Well, our value is debatable, I bet. Let’s go, we’ll obey you.