Much Ado About Nothing, Act 5, Scene 1

If you go on thus, you will kill yourself And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself.

If you keep on like this, you'll kill yourself. It isn't wise to back up grief like this against your own self.

I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve: give not me counsel; Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine: Bring me a father that so lov’d his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine, And bid him speak of patience; Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain, As thus for thus and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape, and form: If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard; Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘hem’ when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words. No, no; ’tis all men’s office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

Please, stop your advice. It falls into my ears as uselessly as water into a sieve. Don't give me advice, and let no comforter please my ear except one whose injuries match mine. Bring me a father who loved his child as much, whose joy in her is destroyed as mine is, and tell him to talk about patience. Measure his sorrow against the length and breadth of mine, and let it match mine strain for strain, this for that and one such grief for another, in every feature, branch, shape and form. If such a man will smile and stroke his beard, tell sorrow to be off, say 'ahem' when he ought to groan, patch up grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk with midnight scholars — bring him to me then, and I will learn patience from him. But there is no such man. For, brother, men can advise and speak comfort about a grief they don't feel themselves; but once they taste it, their advice turns into passion — the same advice that before would give rules as medicine for rage, chain down raving madness with a silk thread, charm away pain with breath and agony with words. No, no. It's everyone's job to preach patience to those writhing under the weight of sorrow, but no man has the strength or the ability to be so philosophical when he has to endure the same thing himself. So give me no advice. My griefs shout louder than any instruction.

Therein do men from children nothing differ.

In that, men are no different from children.

I pray thee peace! I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods And made a push at chance and sufferance.

Please, be quiet! I will be flesh and blood. There has never yet been a philosopher who could bear a toothache patiently, however much they have written in the style of gods and scoffed at chance and suffering.

Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; Make those that do offend you suffer too.

Still, don't turn all the harm on yourself. Make the ones who wronged you suffer too.

There thou speak’st reason: nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her.

There you speak sense. Yes, I'll do that. My soul tells me Hero has been lied about, and Claudio shall hear it, and so shall the Prince, and all of them who dishonour her like this.

Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily.

Here come the Prince and Claudio in a hurry.

Good den, good den.

Good evening, good evening.

Good day to both of you.

Good day to you both.

Hear you, my lords,—

Listen to me, my lords—

We have some haste, Leonato.

We're in something of a hurry, Leonato.

Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord: Are you so hasty now?—well, all is one.

Some hurry, my lord! Well, goodbye then, my lord. Are you in such a hurry now? Well, it's all the same.

Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.

Now, don't pick a quarrel with us, good old man.

If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lie low.

If he could set himself right by quarrelling, some of us would be lying flat.

Who wrongs him?

Who has wronged him?

Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou. Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; I fear thee not.

Indeed, you have wronged me — you liar, you. No, don't put your hand on your sword; I'm not afraid of you.

Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear. In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.

Indeed, curse my hand if it should give your old age any cause for fear. Truly, my hand meant nothing by going near my sword.

Tush, tush, man! never fleer and jest at me: I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As, under privilege of age, to brag What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong’d mine innocent child and me That I am forc’d to lay my reverence by, And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to trial of a man. I say thou hast belied mine innocent child: Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors; O! in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram’d by thy villainy!

Nonsense, nonsense, man! Don't sneer and joke at me. I'm not talking like a senile old man or a fool, using the excuse of age to boast about what I did when I was young, or what I would do if I weren't old. Know this, Claudio, to your face: you have so wronged my innocent child and me that I am forced to set my dignity aside, and, with grey hair and the battering of many years, challenge you to fight me as a man. I say you have lied about my innocent child. Your slander has gone right through her heart, and she lies buried with her ancestors — oh, in a tomb where scandal never rested, except this scandal of hers, invented by your villainy!

My villainy?

My villainy?

Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.

Yours, Claudio; yours, I say.

You say not right, old man.

You're not speaking rightly, old man.

My lord, my lord, I’ll prove it on his body, if he dare, Despite his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.

My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body, if he dares, for all his fine fencing and his constant practice, his May of youth and his bloom of vigour.

Away! I will not have to do with you.

Go away! I won't have anything to do with you.

Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill’d my child; If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.

Can you brush me off like that? You've killed my child. If you kill me, boy, you'll be killing a man.

He shall kill two of us, and men indeed: But that’s no matter; let him kill one first: Win me and wear me; let him answer me. Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me. Sir boy, I’ll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

He shall kill two of us, and men indeed. But that doesn't matter; let him kill one first. Beat me and you can have me — let him answer to me. Come on, follow me, boy; come, young sir, come, follow me. Young sir, I'll whip you out of your thrusting fencing; yes, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Brother,—

Brother—

Content yourself. God knows I lov’d my niece; And she is dead, slander’d to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man indeed As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!

Calm yourself. God knows I loved my niece, and she is dead, slandered to death by villains who are about as ready to answer a real man as I am to pick up a snake by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, knaves, milksops!

Brother Anthony,—

Brother Anthony—

Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple, Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys, That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, Go antickly, show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; And this is all!

Keep calm. What, man! I know them, yes, and what they're worth, down to the last grain — scrambling, insolent, fashion-peddling boys who lie and cheat and jeer, slander and defame, walk about grotesquely, put on a fierce look, and rattle off half a dozen threatening words about how they'd hurt their enemies if they dared — and that's all there is to them!

But, brother Anthony,—

But, brother Anthony—

Come, ’tis no matter: Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.

Come, it doesn't matter. You keep out of it; let me handle this.

Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death; But, on my honour, she was charg’d with nothing But what was true and very full of proof.

Gentlemen, both of you, we won't stir up your tempers. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; but, on my honour, she was accused of nothing that wasn't true and fully proved.

My lord, my lord—

My lord, my lord—

I will not hear you.

I won't listen to you.

No? Come, brother, away. I will be heard.—

No? Come, brother, let's go. I will be heard.—

And shall, or some of us will smart for it.

And you shall be, or some of us will suffer for it.

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

Look, look, here comes the man we went out to find.

Now, signior, what news?

Now, signior, what's the news?

Good day, my lord.

Good day, my lord.

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

Welcome, signior. You've nearly arrived in time to break up nearly a fight.

We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.

We nearly had our two noses bitten off by two old men with no teeth.

Leonato and his brother. What think’st thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.

Leonato and his brother. What do you think? If we had fought, I suspect we'd have been too young for them.

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

In a false quarrel there is no true courage. I came looking for you both.

We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?

We've been all over looking for you, because we are thoroughly gloomy and would gladly have it driven off. Will you use your wit?

It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it?

It's in my scabbard. Shall I draw it?

Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?

Do you wear your wit at your side?

Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.

Nobody ever did, though plenty of people have been beside their wits. I'll tell you to draw, as we tell musicians: draw, to give us pleasure.

As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick, or angry?

As I'm an honest man, he looks pale. Are you ill, or angry?

What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Come on, courage, man! So what if care killed a cat — you have enough spirit in you to kill care.

Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.

Sir, I'll meet your wit head-on in its charge, if you ride it at me. Please choose another subject.

Nay then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross.

Then give him another lance: this last one snapped across.

By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed.

By this light, he changes colour more and more. I think he really is angry.

If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.

If he is, he knows how to turn his belt round.

Shall I speak a word in your ear?

May I have a word in your ear?

God bless me from a challenge!

God protect me from a challenge!

[Aside to Claudio.] You are a villain, I jest not: I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.

[Aside to Claudio.] You are a villain. I'm not joking. I'll prove it however you dare, with whatever weapon you dare, and whenever you dare. Give me satisfaction, or I'll declare publicly that you're a coward. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death will weigh heavily on you. Let me hear from you.

Well I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

Well, I'll meet you, as long as there's good food.

What, a feast, a feast?

What, a feast, a feast?

I’ faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf’s-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife’s naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too?

Truly, I thank him; he has invited me to a calf's head and a capon, and if I don't carve them very skilfully, you can say my knife is worthless. Won't I find a woodcock there too?

Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.

Sir, your wit ambles along nicely; it moves easily.

I’ll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit. ‘True,’ says she, ‘a fine little one.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘a great wit.’ ‘Right,’ said she, ‘a great gross one.’ ‘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 tongues.’ ‘That I believe’ said she, ‘for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning: there’s a double tongue; there’s two tongues.’ Thus did she, an hour together, trans-shape thy particular virtues; yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.

I'll tell you how Beatrice praised your wit the other day. I said you had a fine wit. 'True,' she says, 'a fine little one.' 'No,' I said, 'a great wit.' 'Right,' she said, 'a great gross one.' 'No,' I said, 'a good wit.' 'Exactly,' she said, 'it hurts nobody.' 'No,' I said, 'the gentleman is wise.' 'Certainly,' she said, 'a wise gentleman.' 'No,' I said, 'he knows several languages.' 'That I believe,' she said, 'for he swore something to me on Monday night that he swore out of existence on Tuesday morning: there's a double tongue; there's two tongues.' So for a solid hour she turned all your particular virtues into something else; yet at last she finished with a sigh, saying you were the handsomest man in Italy.

For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not.

And for that she wept heartily and said she didn't care.

Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly. The old man’s daughter told us all.

Yes, she did that; but still, for all that, if she didn't hate him to death, she would love him dearly. The old man's daughter told us everything.

All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.

Everything, everything; and what's more, God saw him when he was hidden in the garden.

But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head?

But when shall we set the wild bull's horns on sensible Benedick's head?

Yea, and text underneath, ‘Here dwells Benedick the married man!’

Yes, and with writing underneath, 'Here lives Benedick the married man!'

Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company. Your brother the bastard is fled from Messina: you have, among you, killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lack-beard there, he and I shall meet; and till then, peace be with him.

Goodbye, boy: you know what I think. I'll leave you now to your gossiping mood; you snap jokes the way braggarts snap their swords, which, thank God, do no harm. My lord, I thank you for your many kindnesses: I must stop keeping your company. Your brother the bastard has fled from Messina: between you, you have killed a sweet and innocent lady. As for my Lord Lack-beard there, he and I shall meet; and until then, peace be with him.

He is in earnest.

He means it.

In most profound earnest; and, I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.

He means it in the deepest possible way; and I promise you, it's for the love of Beatrice.

And hath challenged thee?

And he has challenged you?

Most sincerely.

In complete sincerity.

What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!

What a fine thing a man is when he goes about in his jacket and breeches and leaves his brains behind!

He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.

He's a giant compared to an ape then; but then an ape is a learned scholar compared to such a man.

But, soft you; let me be: pluck up, my heart, and be sad! Did he not say my brother was fled?

But wait; leave me alone: brace yourself, my heart, and be serious! Didn't he say my brother had fled?

Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance. Nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.

Come along, sir: if justice can't tame you, she'll never weigh any more reasons in her scales. Yes, and once you're a cursing hypocrite, you have to be watched.

How now! two of my brother’s men bound! Borachio, one!

What's this! Two of my brother's men tied up! And Borachio one of them!

Hearken after their offence, my lord.

Ask what their offence is, my lord.

Officers, what offence have these men done?

Officers, what offence have these men committed?

Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves.

Well, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondly, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have lied about a lady; thirdly, they have confirmed unjust things; and in conclusion, they are lying scoundrels.

First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge?

First, I ask you what they have done; thirdly, I ask you what their offence is; sixth and lastly, why they have been arrested; and in conclusion, what you are accusing them of?

Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there’s one meaning well suited.

Well argued, and using his own headings; and honestly, there's one meaning dressed up in many outfits.

Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What’s your offence?

Who have you wronged, gentlemen, that you're tied up like this to answer for it? This learned constable is too clever to be understood. What is your offence?

Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this Count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light; who, in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments; how you disgraced her, when you should marry her. My villainy they have upon record; which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.

Sweet Prince, let me not be taken any further for my trial: listen to me yourself, and let this Count kill me. I have deceived your own very eyes: what your wisdoms could not find out, these shallow fools have brought to light; they overheard me in the night confessing to this man how Don John your brother urged me on to slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard and saw me woo Margaret dressed in Hero's clothes; how you disgraced her when you should have married her. They have my villainy written down; I would rather seal it with my death than repeat it to my shame. The lady is dead because of my and my master's false accusation; and, in short, I want nothing but the punishment a villain deserves.

Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?

Doesn't this speech run like iron through your blood?

I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it.

I have drunk poison while he spoke it.

But did my brother set thee on to this?

But did my brother put you up to this?

Yea; and paid me richly for the practice of it.

Yes; and paid me handsomely for carrying it out.

He is compos’d and fram’d of treachery: And fled he is upon this villainy.

He is made and built out of treachery. And he has fled after this villainy.

Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov’d it first.

Sweet Hero! Now your image appears to me in the rare beauty in which I first loved it.

Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.

Come, take the plaintiffs away: by now our sexton has informed Signior Leonato about the matter. And gentlemen, don't forget to state, when the time and place are right, that I am an ass.

Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.

Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.

Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes, That, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him. Which of these is he?

Which one is the villain? Let me see his eyes, so that when I notice another man like him, I can keep away from him. Which of these is he?

If you would know your wronger, look on me.

If you want to know the man who wronged you, look at me.

Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill’d Mine innocent child?

Are you the slave whose breath has killed my innocent child?

Yea, even I alone.

Yes, I alone did it.

No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself: Here stand a pair of honourable men; A third is fled, that had a hand in it. I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death: Record it with your high and worthy deeds. ’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

No, that's not so, villain; you're lying about yourself. Here stand a pair of honourable men; a third has fled, who had a hand in it. I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death: write it down among your high and worthy deeds. It was a brave thing to do, if you think about it.

I know not how to pray your patience; Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not But in mistaking.

I don't know how to ask for your patience; yet I must speak. Choose your own revenge; make me undergo whatever penance your imagination can put on my sin: and yet I only sinned by being mistaken.

By my soul, nor I: And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he’ll enjoin me to.

On my soul, nor did I. And yet, to give this good old man satisfaction, I would bow under any heavy weight he chooses to lay on me.

I cannot bid you bid my daughter live; That were impossible; but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here How innocent she died; and if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones: sing it tonight. Tomorrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that’s dead, And she alone is heir to both of us: Give her the right you should have given her cousin, And so dies my revenge.

I can't ask you to order my daughter to live; that would be impossible. But I beg you both, let the people here in Messina know how innocent she was when she died; and if your love can manage anything in the way of sorrowful writing, hang an epitaph on her tomb, and sing it to her bones: sing it tonight. Tomorrow morning come to my house, and since you could not be my son-in-law, be my nephew instead. My brother has a daughter, almost the exact copy of my dead child, and she alone is heir to both of us: give her the marriage you should have given her cousin, and so my revenge dies.

O noble sir, Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me! I do embrace your offer; and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio.

Oh, noble sir, your excessive kindness wrings tears out of me! I accept your offer; and from now on do what you like with poor Claudio.

Tomorrow then I will expect your coming; Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, I believe, was pack’d in all this wrong, Hir’d to it by your brother.

Tomorrow, then, I'll expect you to come. Tonight I say goodbye. This wicked man shall be brought face to face with Margaret, who I believe was part of the plot in all this wrong, hired to it by your brother.

No, by my soul she was not; Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me; But always hath been just and virtuous In anything that I do know by her.

No, on my soul, she was not; and she didn't know what she was doing when she talked to me; she has always been honest and virtuous in everything I know of 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. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God’s name, the which he hath used so long and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God’s sake. Pray you, examine him upon that point.

Moreover, sir — which, in fact, isn't down in black and white — this plaintiff here, the offender, called me an ass: I beg you, let that be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk about someone called Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear with a lock hanging from it, and borrows money in God's name, which he has done so long and never repaid that now men grow hard-hearted and won't lend anything for God's sake. Please question him on that point.

I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.

I thank you for your care and your honest efforts.

Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth, and I praise God for you.

Your worship speaks like a most thankful and respectful young man, and I praise God for you.

There’s for thy pains.

Here's something for your trouble.

God save the foundation!

God bless the founder!

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

Go; I release you from the charge of your prisoner, and I thank you.

I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship! I wish your worship well; God restore you to health! I humbly give you leave to depart, and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.

I leave an out-and-out scoundrel with your worship; and I beg your worship to correct yourself, as an example to others. God keep your worship! I wish your worship well; God restore you to health! I humbly give you permission to go, and if a happy meeting can be wished for, God forbid it! Come along, neighbour.

Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell.

Until tomorrow morning, lords, goodbye.

Farewell, my lords: we look for you tomorrow.

Goodbye, my lords: we expect you tomorrow.

We will not fail.

We won't fail to come.

Tonight I’ll mourn with Hero.

Tonight I'll mourn with Hero.

[To the Watch.] Bring you these fellows on. We’ll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

[To the Watch.] Bring these men along. We'll talk with Margaret about how she came to know this vile fellow.