Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 1, Scene 1

It was a hot morning in Messina. The only thing that interrupted the clear blue of the sky was the wispy smoke that rose lazily from Mount Etna. As usual, the governor’s villa was filled with young people enjoying themselves with music, sports and conversation. An ensemble of minstrels played and sang fashionable songs that they had brought from Florence: two muscular fellows wrestled, cheered on by a group of spectators of both sexes, while the garden was dotted with pairs and trios, sitting in the shade of the huge pines, chatting. Leonato’s villa was magnificent. He had carved out his vineyards and orchards from a countryside that was otherwise covered with lava and overgrown with cacti. From the lawn in front of the villa there was a spectacular view of the blue ocean and the Italian mainland. It was a place of pleasure, with tennis courts, gardens, and even a maze. Leonato considered himself to be the most fortunate of men. His life was filled with pleasure. He was surrounded by a loving family — his daughter, Hero: his niece, Beatrice: and his brother Antonio — who all lived with him. He was always ready to entertain guests and there was never a shortage of fun. Life at the governor’s villa was splendid.

On that particular summer morning an officer arrived while Leonato was in the middle of a fencing bout with Beatrice. She was winning. He was used to that and, being the man he was, he did not show any false pride, but congratulated her on each hit. The officer waited politely until they had finished. Leonato acknowledged his defeat with exaggerated bows to the cheering guests then shook the officer’s hand. The young man gave him a letter.

Leonato opened it. Hero and Beatrice watched his face as he read. His eyes opened wide then the creases around them were animated as he grinned delightedly. He held the letter up high as the young people gathered around him.

‘I learn from this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon is arriving in Messina today,’ he said. A wave of excitement swept round the group and there was a buzz of anticipation.


‘He must be very close by now,’ the messenger told them. ‘He wasn’t more than nine miles away when I left him.’

Don Pedro was an old friend of Leonato’s. His military campaigns led him far afield and his return to Europe always brought him through Messina. His visits were high points in the life of the governor’s villa.

‘How many gentlemen have they lost in this action?’ said Leonato.

‘Oh, very few of any rank,’ the messenger told him, ‘and no one well–known.’

‘It’s a double victory then,’ said Leonato, ‘to bring a full complement home.’ He read the letter again. ‘I see here that Don Pedro heaps praise on a young Florentine called Claudio.’

‘Much deserved too,’ said the officer, ‘and decorated by Don Pedro. He has conducted himself well beyond the promise of his age, performing the feats of a lion in the guise of a lamb.’ The young man laughed. ‘In fact, he went so far beyond expectation that you mustn’t expect me to tell you how.’

‘He has an uncle here in Messina who will be very happy to hear that,’ said Leonato.

‘He already knows. When I arrived here I went to him first, with a letter. And he was indeed overjoyed: to the point of tears, in fact.’

‘He cried, did he?’

‘Most profusely.’

‘Good,’ said Leonato. ‘Tears of joy are the most genuine kind, and so much better than tears of sorrow.’

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Beatrice, who had been listening with great interest, ‘has Signior Show–off survived the wars?’

The officer looked puzzled. ‘I’m sorry, madam, I don’t know anyone of that name. No, there’s no–one of that name in the army.’

Leonato was puzzled too. ‘Who are you talking about?’ he said.

Hero knew who her cousin was referring to. ‘She means Signior Benedick of Padua,’ she said.

‘Oh him!’ The messenger laughed. ‘Yes, he’s returned, and just as pleasant as ever.’


‘He once set up an archery tournament here between himself and Cupid,’ said Beatrice. ‘Cupid never showed up of course, so my uncle’s jester took his place and the two of them had a ridiculous shooting contest with each other.’

Leonato nodded vigorously, remembering the occasion.

‘But tell me,’ said Beatrice, ‘how many did he kill and then eat during these wars? Or rather, how many did he kill and bring back with him? Because I promised to eat every man he killed.’

‘Honestly, niece,’ said Leonato, ‘you goad Signior Benedick too much, but he’ll get even, you mark my words.’ He winked at Hero.

The messenger was becoming even more bewildered. He wondered what the gallant and popular Signior Benedick had done to deserve this attack from such a beautiful woman. ‘He fought bravely in these wars, madam,’ he said.

Beatrice showed him an astonished face. ‘You mean you had all those rotting bodies and he helped to eat them! He’s a very brave eater: he’s got an excellent appetite and will guzzle anything.’

The messenger laughed. ‘And he’s a good soldier too, lady,’ he said.

‘A good soldier when it comes to conquering ladies but how is he with men?’

‘A gentleman among gentlemen and a man among men, stuffed full of all the qualities a man needs.’

Some of the girls giggled and Leonato shook his finger at them in mock reprimand.

‘I agree that he’s a stuffed man,’ she said, ‘but stuffed with what? Don’t answer that, we’re all sinners in our own way.’

‘You must excuse my niece,’ said Leonato. ‘There’s a kind of love hate relationship between her and Signior Benedick. They never meet without a battle of wits between them.’

‘And he never wins,’ said Beatrice. ‘In our last skirmish four of his five wits went limping off and now he has to make do with only one, and that’s barely enough to keep him warm — not enough to make him as bright as his horse, hardly enough to make him recognisable as human. But tell me, who’s his bosom friend these days? He takes up with a new one every month.’

‘You’re exaggerating,’ said the messenger.


‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘He wears his allegiances as he wears his hat, always changing its shape according to the latest fashion.’

‘I can see he’s not in your good books,’ said the messenger.

‘No, and if he were I would burn my library. But tell me, who is his latest friend? Is there no young scrapper that he’s currently corrupting?’

‘He spends most of his time with Claudio, the young man mentioned in Don Pedro’s letter.’

‘Oh Lord!’ Beatrice shook her head. ‘He’ll infect him like a disease — Signior Show–off is more easily caught than the plague, and the infected eventually goes mad. God help the noble Claudio if he’s caught the Benedick: it will cost him a thousand pounds to be cured.’

The messenger laughed nervously. ‘I’d better stay friends with you, madam.’

‘Do that, good friend,’ she said.

‘Well at least you won’t go mad!’ said Leonato.

‘No,’ she said, laughing. ‘Not until we have a heat wave in January!’

A cloud of dust appeared in the valley below them. The messenger pointed and everyone ran to the viewing platform that Leonato had built so that he could look down directly on the city. The cloud came closer and they were able to make out five horsemen, galloping furiously. They watched as the horsemen approached, clapping and cheering them on. The five began ascending the winding road up to the villa. Another dust cloud followed: it was the rest of their party. Leonato led the way to the stables and ten minutes later the horsemen were there, all five in white uniforms. They dismounted and their leader, Don Pedro, embraced Leonato.

‘Good Signior Leonato,’ he said, ‘have you come to meet your trouble? The usual thing is to avoid trouble but you seek it out.’

‘Your grace is never a trouble to my house,’ said Leonato. ‘No trouble at all, always a pleasure. And every time you leave I’m sad because happiness goes with you.’

‘You embrace trouble too willingly,’ said Don Pedro. He looked around, smiling at the impressed young faces. Hero was standing beside her father. ‘This is your daughter, I take it?’ he said.

Leonato put his arm around her. ‘So her mother always told me.’


One of the party came forward and shook Leonato’s hand. ‘Did you doubt it that you asked her?’ he said.

Leonato laughed. ‘No, Signior Benedick. You were a child at the time.’

When the laughter had subsided Don Pedro slapped Benedick on the back. ‘You deserved that, Benedick. It shows the kind of man you are. To tell you the truth, the lady fathered herself. Don’t worry, madam, because you look like your father.’

‘As like him as she is, I don’t think she would be him for all Messina.’ said Benedick.

Beatrice, who had been standing among the other young people, joined her cousin and Leonato.

‘I’m surprised that you are still talking, Signior Benedick,’ she said, ‘since nobody’s taking any notice.’

At seeing her Benedick feigned great surprise. ‘What, my dear Miss High and Mighty? Are you still alive?’

‘Is it possible that high and mightiness should die as long she has such nutritious food to feed on as Signior Benedick is? Courtesy itself would convert to high and mightiness if you came near her.’

‘Courtesy is a traitor then,’ said Benedick, ‘but one thing is certain: I am loved by all ladies except you, and I wish I could find it in my heart that I didn’t have such a hard heart, for to tell you the truth I don’t love anyone.’

‘That’s a relief to women,’ said Beatrice, ‘otherwise they would have been bothered by a pernicious suitor. I thank God that I’m cold–blooded. I’m like you in that. I would rather hear my dog bark at a crow than hear a man swear he loves me.’

‘May God keep your ladyship in that frame of mind forever,’ said Benedick, ‘so that some gentleman or other will escape the fate of getting his face scratched.’

‘Scratching couldn’t make it worse if it were a face like yours.’

‘Well, you’re real chatterer, a parrot.’

‘A bird with a tongue like mine is better than an animal with one like yours,’ she said.

‘I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue and was as good at keeping going,’ he said, ‘but get along with you in God’s name. I’ve finished.’

‘You always end in a pathetic way: I know you of old,’ she said.


While this encounter was going on, providing entertainment for the guests, Leonato and Don Pedro had been talking a little apart from the others. They came forward now. ‘Claudio and Signior Benedick,’ said Don Pedro, ‘my dear friend Leonato has invited you all. I’ve told him we’ll stay for at least a month and he heartily prays that something will happen to keep us here longer. I swear he’s no hypocrite and that he prays from his heart.’

‘If you swear that, my lord, you won’t swear in vain,’ said Leonato.

One of the other two arrivals, Balthasar, a singer, was already entertaining some of the young guests. The fifth, a tall young man, had stood apart from the others, apparently reluctant to join in. He was Don John, the illigitimate brother of Don Pedro. Leonato smiled warmly at him and bowed. ‘Let me welcome you, my lord,’ he said, ‘as you’ve been reconciled to the prince, your brother. I owe you my duty.’

Don John acknowledged him with a brief nod. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m not a man of many words but I thank you.’

Leonato turned back to Don Pedro and indicated the house. ‘Lead on, if you please, your grace,’ he said.

Benedick and Claudio didn’t follow. Instead, they took the path that led to the gardens.

‘Benedick,’ said Claudio, ‘did you see Signior Leonato’s daughter!’

‘I saw her but I didn’t look at her.’

‘Isn’t she a sweet and pure young lady?’

Benedick laughed. ‘Are you asking me, as you should, for my honest opinion, or do you want me to talk as I usually do about women? As a professed enemy to them?’

‘No please,’ said Claudio, ‘be serious.’

‘Well then,’ said Benedick, ‘she’s too short for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too small for a great praise. The only positive thing I can say about her is that if she looked other than the way she does she would be unattractive, and not being what she isn’t, but what she is… I don’t like her.’

‘You think I’m joking,’ said Claudio. ‘I beg of you, tell me if you like her.’

‘Do you want to buy her that you’re asking so much about her?’

Claudio stopped and turned his face to the sky. ‘Could all the money in the world buy such a jewel?’

‘Yes, and a case to put it in too. But come on, are you being serious? Or are you mocking? Come on, how am I supposed to read you so that I can match your mood?’

‘To me she is the sweetest lady I’ve ever seen,’ said Claudio.

‘I can still see without spectacles and I don’t see any such thing,’ said Benedick. ‘There’s her cousin, and if she wasn’t possessed by the devil, she would exceed her in beauty as much as the first of May does the end of December. But I hope you don’t have any intention of turning husband! Do you?’

‘I wouldn’t trust myself, even if I had sworn not to,’ said Claudio, ‘if Hero would be my wife.’

‘It’s come to this, then,’ said Benedick. ‘For God’s sake, isn’t there one man left who would protect himself from the pain of a wife’s infidelity? Will I never see a sixty year–old bachelor again? Go on then, if you have to — put your neck into a yoke and take the consequences. Spend your Sundays at home with a wife! Look, Don Pedro’s looking for you.’

‘What secret are you sharing, that’s stopped you from coming to Leonato’s?’ said Don Pedro, as he approached.

‘I want your grace to force me to tell you,’ said Benedick.

‘I order you, then,’ said Don Pedro. ‘On your allegiance, tell me.’

Benedick grinned at Claudio. ‘You see, Count Claudio?’ he said. ‘I can keep a secret as well as a dumb man — I want you to know that.’ He turned back to the prince. ‘But according to my duty…’ He raised a finger at Claudio ‘Take note, it’s my duty!’ Then to Don Pedro again ‘… he is in love.’ When Don Pedro didn’t reply he prompted him. ‘With who? It’s up to you to ask.’ When neither of his friends said anything he looked from the one to the other. ‘See how short his answer is,’ he said. He put his arm round Don Pedro’s shoulder and whispered in his ear: ‘With Hero, Leonato’s short daughter.’

Don Pedro raised an eyebrow at Claudio for confirmation. Claudio smiled nervously. ‘If it’s true, then it’s as he’s told you,’ he said.

Benedick laughed loudly at Claudio’s embarrassment. ‘It’s like the old story, my lord: “It’s not true, nor was it ever true, and God forbid that it should be.” ’

Claudio gave in. ‘If I don’t change my mind soon, God forbid that it shouldn’t be true,’ he said.

‘So be it, if you love her,’ said Don Pedro. ‘The lady is most worthy.’

‘You’re saying this to trick me, my lord,’ said Claudio.

‘I swear, I think that,’ said Don Pedro.

‘And I swear I said what I thought too,’ said Claudio.

‘And by all that swearing, my lord, I also said what I thought,’ said Benedick.

‘I do feel that I love her,’ said Claudio.

‘And I know she is worthy,’ said Don Pedro.

Benedick watched their earnest exchange. He pretended to be in despair. ‘I neither feel how she should be loved nor know in what way she is worthy,’ he said. ‘Fire couldn’t melt that opinion out of me. I’m prepared to be burnt at the stake for that belief.’

‘You’ve always been an obstinate heretic in your contempt for beauty,’ said Don Pedro.

‘And insists on keeping up the pretence,’ said Claudio.

‘That a woman conceived me, I thank her,’ said Benedick: ‘that she brought me up, I also give her my deepest thanks. but that doesn’t mean that I would like to have a hunting call played in my head or put my bugle in an invisible baldrick: all women should excuse me for that. Because I wouldn’t like to do them the wrong of mistrusting any of them I will do myself the right of trusting none of them. The conclusion is, and this is final, I will remain a bachelor.’

Don Pedro wasn’t convinced. ‘Before I die I’ll see you looking pale with lovesickness,’ he said.

‘With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord,’ said Benedick, ‘but not with love. If you can prove that I would lose more blood from love than I will recover again from drinking, pick my eyes out with a songwriter’s pen and hang me up as a brothel sign in blind Cupid’s place.

‘Well,’ said Don Pedro,’ if you should ever abandon this faith you’ll be an interesting subject of discussion.’

‘If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me, and let whoever hits me be slapped on the shoulder, and called Adam.’

‘Well, time will tell,’ said Don Pedro. ‘As the saying goes, “in time even the wild bull will accept a yoke.” ’

‘The wild bull may,’ said Benedick, ‘but if the sensible Benedick ever accepts it pull the Bull’s horns off and put them on my forehead and stick up a poster like the ones they make to sell horses, saying “here you can see Benedick the married man.” ’

‘If that ever happened, you would be raving mad,’ said Claudio.

‘No, said Don Pedro, if Cupid hasn’t used all his arrows up in places where loose people gather, like Venice, you’ll be punished for this before long.’

‘It will take an earthquake,’ said Benedick

‘Well, you’ll change in time,’ said Don Pedro. ‘In the meantime, good Signior Benedick, go to Leonato’s, give him my compliments and tell him I’ll definitely be at supper because he’s gone to a lot of trouble.’

‘I think I can just about do that,’ said Benedick ‘and end with yours faithfully.’

‘With God’s blessing,’ said Claudio.

Don Pedro laughed and joined in with the joke: ‘the sixth of July, your loving friend, Benedick,’ he said.

‘Don’t mock, don’t mock,’ said Benedick. ‘Your letter endings are like the trimmings of a garment that are only loosely sewn on, so before you mock conventional letter endings examine your conscience. And so I leave you.’

Benedick sauntered off, whistling.

Claudio looked at the ground for a few moments and Don Pedro waited. Eventually Claudio looked up at him. ‘My liege,’ he said. ‘Your highness can help me now.’

‘I’m at your service,’ said Don Pedro. ‘Just tell me what I can do and you’ll see how ready I am to help.’

‘Does Leonato have a son, my lord?’

‘No child but Hero: she’s his only heir. Do you care for her, Claudio?’

‘Oh my lord,’ said Claudio, ‘when we went off on this expedition I saw her with a soldier’s eye. I liked her but I had military matters in my mind, and no thoughts of love. But now that I’ve returned those war thoughts have vacated their place in my mind. And in their place, soft and delicate desires are thronging in, all telling me how beautiful young Hero is, reminding me of how much I liked her before I went to the wars.’

Don Pedro laughed. ‘You’ll be like a real lover soon,’ he said, ‘and bore everyone with your story. If you love Hero, enjoy it. I’ll broach the subject with her, and with her father, and you shall have her.’

Claudia’s expression was a mixture of surprise and delight.

Don Pedro laughed again. ‘Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that why you began to spin such eloquent words?’

‘How sensitive you are to my feelings!’ exclaimed Claudio, ‘that you understand them so well. I should have broken it to you more gradually. My falling in love like this must seem too sudden.’

‘Why?’ said Don Pedro. ‘You have to say what you think. It’s as it is: the fact is, you’re in love, and I’ll provide you with the remedy. I understand that there’s a ball tonight. I’ll wear a mask and tell the lovely Hero that I’m Claudio. I’ll declare myself to her, impress her with my intensity, and tell her I love her. Then I’ll approach her father and the result will be that she’ll be yours. So let’s do that.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 1, Scene 2

Leonato was rushing about, preparing for the celebrations of the evening. There was so much to do, so many arrangements to make. He wanted everything to be perfect for his guests. His brother, Antonio, arrived to help him. ‘Hello, brother,’ said Leonato. ‘Where’s your son? Has he sorted out the music?

‘He’s working on it right now,’ said Antonio. ‘But brother, I’ve got something to tell you that’s really going to surprise you.’

‘Something good?’ said Leonato.

‘That depends on how it turns out,’ said Antonio, ‘but it looks good. One of the men overheard the prince and Count Claudio talking as they walked in the orchard. The Prince confided to Claudio that he was in love with my niece, your daughter, and intended to tell her tonight while they were dancing: and if he found her responsive, he would seize the opportunity and approach you about it.’

‘Has this fellow got any brains?’ said Leonato.

‘He’s a sharp, reliable fellow,’ said Antonio. ‘I’ll send for him and you can ask him yourself.’

‘No, no,’ said Leonato. ‘We shouldn’t make anything of it until it actually happens. But I’ll tell my daughter about it so that she’ll be better prepared if this should by any chance be true.’

Servants were moving about busily. Leonato had no time to think about this new development. ‘You go and tell her,’ he said. He resumed his direction of the preparations. ‘Come on,’ he said to one. ‘You know what you have to do.’ He beckoned to another. ‘Come with me, I’ve got a job for you.’ He stopped at the door. ‘Make sure you do everything properly,’ he told the busy servants.

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 1, Scene 3

Don John’s friend, Conrade, came into Don John’s quarters and found him standing at the window, staring out. ‘What the devil, my lord! Why are you so very unhappy?’ he said.

‘I’ve got nothing to be happy about,’ said Don John, ‘and so my sadness is limitless.’

‘You should listen to reason,’ said Conrade

‘And when I’ve heard it, how will it help?’

‘If not immediately at least it will help you to bear it patiently,’ said Conrade.

‘You say that you were born under Saturn, the planet of sourness and gloom,’ said Don John. ‘I’m surprised that you’re giving me advice. I can’t conceal what I am, so I’ll just do as I like: I’ll be sad when I have reason, and not laugh at anyone’s jokes: eat when I’m hungry, and not wait for anyone else: sleep when I’m tired, and not mind anyone else’s business: laugh when I’m merry, and not scratch anyone’s back to keep in with him.’

‘I agree,’ said Conrade, ‘but you must tread carefully until you’re more independent. You’ve been antagonistic towards your brother recently, and he’s only just taken you back. You won’t be able to get completely back into his good books unless you show goodwill. It’s important that you give something if you want to reap the reward.’

‘I’d rather be a dog– rose growing in a hedge than be a rose in his grace,’ said Don John, ‘and I’d rather be disliked by everyone than have to put on an act to make them like me. You shouldn’t try and stop me from being like this: the fact is that I’m a straightforward villain. I’ve been muzzled and hobbled and so I have decided not to sing in my cage. If I weren’t muzzled I would bite, if I weren’t hobbled I would do as I like. In the meantime let me be what I am and don’t try and change me.’

‘Can’t you do something about your discontent?’ said Canrade.


‘I am,’ said Don John: I’m cultivating it. Who’s this,’ he said, as they heard someone approaching. It was Don John’s man, Borachio.

‘What’s happening?’ said Don John.

‘I’ve just come from the supper they’re having,’ said Borachio. ‘Leonato’s entertaining your brother royally, and I can give you news of an intended marriage.’

‘Is it something I can use to make mischief with?’ said Don John. ‘What kind of fool is he who’s betrothing himself to such a noise?’

‘It’s your brother’s right hand man.’

‘Who? The most exquisite Claudio?’

‘The very man.’

Don John smiled. ‘A real young lover!’ He didn’t conceal his excitement. ‘Who? Who?’ he said. ‘Who is it?’

‘Believe it or not, it’s Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato.’

Don John laughed then. ‘Cheeky youngster!’ he exclaimed. ‘How did you find out?

‘I was instructed to perfume the house,’ said Boruchio, ‘and while I was fumigating a musty room the prince and Claudio come along, very close together, talking seriously. I whipped myself behind a tapestry and heard them arranging that the prince would woo Hero for himself, and winning her, would give her to Count Claudio.’

‘Come, come,’ said Don John. ‘Let’s go there. This may turn out to be food for my displeasure. That young upstart has benefited from my downfall. If I can thwart him in any way it will give me pleasure. Are you both with me? Will you help me?’

‘To the death, my lord,’ said Conrade.

‘Let’s go to this ball then,’ said Don John. ‘They’re all happy that I’m subdued. I wish the cook felt like I do about them! Shall we go and see what we can do?’

‘We’re all yours,’ said Borachio.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 2, Scene 1

The supper had been a great success and now everyone had gone off to prepare for the ball. The musicians had assembled in the brightly lit and elaborately decorated ballroom and everything was ready. The family gathered to welcome their guests and sat down together to wait.

‘Wasn’t Count John here at supper?’ said Leonato.

‘I didn’t see him,’ said Antonio.

Beatrice pulled a face. ‘That gentleman looks so sour,’ she said. ‘Every time I see him I have heartburn for an hour afterwards.’

Hero agreed. ‘He does seem sad all the time.’

‘The perfect man would be one who was halfway between him and Benedick,’ said Beatrice. ‘The one is too much like a statue and says nothing and the other is too much like a spoilt child, burbling on forever.’

Leonato laughed. ‘With half Signior Benedick’s tongue in Count John’s mouth, and half Count John’s melancholy in Signior Benedick’s face…’

Beatrice interrupted him with a delighted laugh: ‘Add a shapely leg and a good foot, uncle, and enough money, and a man like that would win any woman in the world, with a little work.’

‘I swear, niece,’ said Leonato, ‘you’ll never get yourself a husband with such a sharp tongue.’

‘It’s true,’ said Antonio. ‘She’s far too cussed.’

‘Too cussed is to be more than cussed,’ said Beatrice, ‘which means I’m harmless. God takes care that the vicious have short horns and lack the power to do harm.’


Leonato looked puzzled. ‘So by being cussed God won’t send you any horns?’

Antonio laughed and nudged Hero, who blushed.

‘Exactly,’ said Beatrice. ‘No husband. I hope he won’t send me one, and for that favour I go on at him on my knees morning noon and night. For heaven’s sake, I couldn’t bear to have a husband with a beard: I’d rather lie in a scratchy woollen blanket.’

‘You may be lucky, and find one who doesn’t have one,’ said Leonato.

‘And what would I do with him then? she said. ‘Dress him in my clothes and make him my waiting gentlewoman? Those who have beards are too old and those who don’t are too young. I don’t like older men and young men wouldn’t want me. So I will be like the proverbial old maid and take a job with a bear–keeper, leading his apes into hell.’

‘Then you’d end up in hell,’ said Leonato.

‘No, only at the gate, and the devil would be there to meet me like an old cuckold with horns on his head, and he would say, get yourself to heaven, Beatrice, get yourself to heaven: this isn’t a place for you old maids. So I would deliver my apes and take myself off to Saint Peter, and he would show me where the bachelors are sitting, and there we would live, as happy as the day is long.’

Hero smiled at her cousin’s picture of eternal bliss. Antonio shook his head. ‘Well, niece,’ he said to her, ‘I hope that you will do as your father tells you.’

‘Yes indeed,’ said Beatrice. ‘It’s my cousin’s duty to curtsy and say yes father, whatever you say, father: but even so, cousin, make sure that he’s a handsome fellow, and if not, make another curtsy and say, father, it’s whatever I say.

They all laughed. ‘Well, niece,’ said Leonato, ‘I hope to see you fixed up with a husband one day.’

‘Not until God makes men out of something better than earth,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t it be terrible for a woman to be married to a bit of sand? To be accountable to a clod of worthless, poor, soil? No, uncle, I’ll have none of it. In any case, Adam’s sons are my brothers, and I firmly believe that it’s a sin to mate with a relative.’

Leonato gave up and turned to Hero. ‘Remember what I told you,’ he said. ‘If the prince proposes marriage you know what to say.’

‘There will be something wrong with the music, cousin, if he doesn’t get his timing right,’ said Beatrice.


‘If he’s too pushy tell him there should be good timing in everything, and so give your answer in time with the music, as you dance. Because, listen Hero, wooing, marrying and then repenting afterwards are like a Scotch jig, a stately dance and a lively cinquepace: the first wooing is hot and fast, like a Scotch jig, mad and wild: the wedding is controlled and modest, like a measure, full of dignity and tradition: and then Repentance follows, and with his ageing legs, degenerates into the cinquepace, faster and faster, until he falls into his grave.’

‘You analyse it very shrewdly, niece’ said Leonato, laughing .

‘I’ve got a good eye, uncle,’ she said. ‘I can even see a church in the daytime.’

There were voices as the first guests arrived.

‘They’re here, brother,’ said Leonato. ‘Go and show them in.’

Leonato put his mask on in time to greet the first group of young people. Don Pedro, Benedick and Balthasar arrived soon after, although no–one could tell who they were, with their masks. Then Antonio returned, also masked, with another group that included Don John and Borachio. Hero’s attendants, Margaret and Ursula, were also somewhere among the throng. The hall was soon crowded with young women and masked men, and the musicians began their work.

After what her uncle had told her about Don Pedro’s attentions and what her father had said during the lighthearted conversation, but nevertheless as a very serious warning, Hero was on her guard, watching out for him. So when a masked man who could have been him approached her she was ready.

‘Will you dance with your admirer?’ he said.

She smiled. ‘As long as you dance gently, and look but say nothing. I’m yours for the dance — until I walk away.’

‘With me?’ he said.

‘Perhaps,’ she said, ‘if I feel like it.’

‘And when will you let me know?’

‘When I see your face and if I like it. I hope your face is better than your mask!’

‘My mask is Philemon’s roof,’ he said. ‘Inside the house is Jove.’

‘Well then,’ she said, laughing loudly, ‘your mask should be thatched.’

‘Shhh,’ he said, drawing her away towards a dark corner. ‘One should speak quietly when one talks about love.’


Balthasar, who had spotted Margaret on their arrival, had made a beeline for her, and now they were in the middle of an exploratory conversation.

‘Well, I wish you did like me,’ he was saying.

‘Well I don’t wish that,’ she said, ‘for your own sake, because I’ve got a lot of faults.’

‘Tell me one,’ he said.

‘I say my prayers out loud.’

‘I love you even more,’ he said. ‘Those who are listening will have the chance to say ‘Amen’.’

He accidently trod on her foot and she cried out. He stood back and looked at her apologetically.

‘God send me a good dancer!’ she wailed.

‘Amen,’ he said.

She laughed. ‘And God keep him away from me once the dance is over! What do you say, priest?’

‘Nothing. The priest has been put in his place.’

Ursula was having fun. She had recognised the man she was dancing with. ‘I know you well enough,’ she was saying. ‘You are Signior Antonio.’

‘In one word, I’m not,’ he said.

‘I know you by the trembling of your head.’

‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘I’m imitating him.’

‘You couldn’t do him so badly unless you were the man himself,’ she said, ‘and his withered hand, shaking all over the place. You’re him, you’re him.’

‘In one word, I’m not,’ he said.

‘Come come,’ she said, ‘do you think I don’t recognise your high intelligence? Can a quality like that be disguised? Go on, hush. Certain things show themselves and that’s the end of it.’

‘Won’t you tell me who told you so?’ said Beatrice.

‘No, excuse me,’ he said.


‘And you won’t tell me who you are either?’

‘Not now.’

‘I’m High and Mighty’ she said, ‘and I got my intelligence from the joke book, the ‘Hundred Merry Tales.’ Well that’s what Signior Benedick said, anyway.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘I’m sure you know him well enough.’

‘I don’t, believe me.’

‘Didn’t he ever make you laugh?’

‘Please tell me who he is.’

‘He’s the prince’s jester — a very stupid fellow. His one talent is making up incredible slanders: only layabouts appreciate him. And the main thing about him isn’t his intelligence but his offensiveness: he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I’m sure he’s here somewhere. I wish he had tried to approach me!’

‘When I meet the gentleman I’ll tell him what you said.’

‘Do, do,’ she said. ‘But he’ll make some derogatory comments about me which, if ignored or not laughed at, will send him into a depression, saving a partridge wing, because the fool will lose his appetite and not eat anything that night.’

The dancers were forming up to follow the leading pair in a dance round the hall.

‘We must follow the leaders,’ said Beatrice.

‘In everything that’s good,’ he said.

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘If they lead us into anything bad I’ll leave them at the next turning.’ They joined the line.

When the dancing ended the revellers drifted away. Don John and Borachio, left alone except for one man who was talking to the musicians, took their masks off.


‘I can see that my brother’s in love with Hero and has gone with her father to broach it with him. Everyone’s left but there’s one mask remaining over there.’

‘That’s Claudio,’ said Borachio. ‘I recognise him by his bearing.’

They strolled over to him.

‘Aren’t you Signior Benedick?’ said Don John.

‘Ah, you’ve recognised me.’ said Claudio. ‘I am.’

‘Sir,’ said Don John, ‘you’re very close to my brother. He’s fallen in love with Hero. I beg you to dissuade him from her: she’s not his equal in birth. It would be an honest thing for you to do.’

‘How do you know he’s in love with her?’ said Claudio.

‘I heard him swear his love for her.’

‘So did I,’ said Borachio, ‘and he swore he would marry her tonight.’

‘Come, let’s go to the banquet,’ said Don John.

Claudio, left on his own, was bewildered. He had answered them as Benedick but heard their bad news with the ears of Claudio. It must be true: the prince had been wooing her for himself. Friendship was constant in everything except matters of love. In those affairs, all hearts speak for themselves. No–one should trust anyone to woo for him, but should do it himself, because beauty is a witch whose spells not even friendship can resist, but melts in passion. This was common: he had always known it. Well that was the end of his aspirations regarding Hero.

The musicians had packed up and gone, and he stood there, grief stricken. He was startled by his friend, Benedick, greeting him.

‘Count Claudio?’

Claudio removed his mask. ‘Yes, it’s I.’

Benedick took his arm. ‘Come with me,’ he said.

‘Where to?’

‘To the nearest willow tree,’ said Benedick. ‘How are you going to wear the willow garland we’re going to make? Around your neck like a money–lender’s gold chain? Or on your chest, like a soldier’s banner, challenging this? You must decide, and wear it one way or the other, because the prince has won your Hero.’

‘I wish him joy of her,’ said Claudio, sadly.

Benedick slapped him on the back. ‘Why, spoken like a true cattle dealer,’ he said, ‘as long as they sell bullocks. But why do you think the prince has treated you like this?’

Claudio sat down and put his head in his hands. ‘Please, go away,’ he said.

‘Hey, now you’re thrashing about like a blind man,’ said Benedick.

Claudio stood up. ‘If you won’t go then I will,’ he said. He walked off briskly, leaving Benedick on his own.

What a poor bird Claudio was: he would creep into the undergrowth now. Benedick felt sorry for him but there was nothing he could do about it. He had his own problems. He was still smarting from his encounter with Beatrice. She knew him well so it was surprising that she had got him so wrong. The prince’s jester! Ha! Maybe she thought that because he was always in a good mood. Yes, maybe he wasn’t doing himself any favours always being like that. He thought about it. No, he didn’t have that reputation: it was Beatrice’s jaundiced outlook, thinking that the whole world thought as she did, and so putting things like that about. Well, he’d get his revenge. He smiled at the prospect.

His thoughts were interrupted by Don Pedro’s arrival.

‘Now, Signior,’ said the prince. ‘Where’s the count? Have you seen him?’

‘I swear,’ said Benedick, ‘I’ve been spreading rumours. I found him here, as sad as a cottage in the middle of a forest. I told him…’ Benedick looked questioningly at the prince, ‘… and I think I was right: that your grace has been accepted by this young lady, and I offered to accompany him to a willow tree, either to make himself a rejected lover’s garland, or a cane, as he needs whipping.’

‘Whipping? What’s he done?’

‘Made the common mistake of a schoolboy who, overjoyed at finding a bird’s nest, gives it to a friend, who steals it.’ Benedick looked disapprovingly at Don Pedro.

‘Are you trying to turn a mission into an offence?’ said Don Pedro. ‘It would be terrible if I were a thief.’

‘But it wouldn’t have been in vain if he had made the cane, and the garland too,’ said Benedick, ‘because he could have worn the garland himself and used the cane on you, who, I gather, has stolen his bird’s nest.’

Don Pedro laughed. Benedick looked at him uncertainly. ‘I only want to teach the birds to sing then give them back to their owner,’ said the prince.

Benedick grasped Don Pedro’s hand and shook it vigorously. ‘If they learn to sing then you’ve done a good thing,’ he said.

Don Pedro laughed and wagged his finger at Benedick while Benedick shook his head at the doubts he’d had about his friend.

‘The Lady Beatrice has a bone to pick with you,’ said Don Pedro. ‘The gentleman she danced with told her that she’s been very wronged by you.’

‘Oh, she abused me beyond what a block of wood wouldn’t have failed to react to,’ said Benedick. ‘An oak with only one green leaf on it would have risen to her. Even my mask began to come to life and take offence. She told me, not knowing it was I, that I was the prince’s jester, that I was duller than slush, bombarding me with ridicule after ridicule, in such an unbelievable attack on me that I felt like a target with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks daggers, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her language there would be no coming near her: she would infect as far as the north star. I wouldn’t marry her if she were endowed with everything Adam possessed before he sinned. She would have made Hercules turn the roasting spit, yes, and chop his club up for firewood. Come, don’t mention her: you’ll find that she’s the infernal Ate, the goddess of discord, in nice clothes. I wish to God some scholar would exorcise her, because one things’ certain: while she’s in the world a man may live as quietly in hell as in a sanctuary here, and people would sin on purpose so they could go there because wherever she is there’s unease, horror and distress.’

Don Pedro pointed to the door where a group was coming into the ballroom. ‘Look,’ he said through his laughter, ‘here she comes.’

Benedick went down on his knees in a mock plea as Beatrice and Hero approached, followed by Leonato, and Claudio trailing forlornly behind them. ‘Will your grace send me on some mission to the end of the world?’ he said. ‘I will go on the most flimsy excuse, to any place, even if it’s the Antipodes, that you care to send me to. I will get you a toothpick from the furthest inch of Asia, bring you Prester John’s foot measurement, a hair from the Emperor of China’s beard, take a message to the pigmies of Ethiopia, rather than have three words conversation with this harpy. Do you have an errand for me?’

‘None but to hope for your good company,’ said Don Pedro, raising his friend up.

‘O God!’ said Benedick, looking around for an escape route. ‘I can’t endure my Lady Tongue!’ He spied a side door and made for it.

Don Pedro didn’t even try to control his amusement as the others came up to him. ‘Come, lady, come,’ he said to Beatrice. ‘You have lost Signior Benedick’s heart.’

‘You’re right, my lord,’ she said. ‘He lent it to me for a while once, and I gave him good interest on it — both our hearts for his single one. He won it from me once, but with false dice, so your grace may well say that I have lost it.’

Don Pedro shook his head. ‘You have put him down lady,’ he said, ‘you have put him down.’

‘I wouldn’t if he wouldn’t do it to me, my lord,’ she retorted. ‘If I allowed him to get away with it he would make a great big fool of me.’ She changed the subject suddenly. ‘I’ve brought Count Claudio, who you told me to go and find.’

‘How are you, Count?’ said Don Pedro. ‘Why are you so sad?’

‘I’m not sad, my lord,’ said Claudio.

‘What then? Sick?’

‘Neither, my lord.’

‘The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor happy nor well: just civil count — Seville as an orange, and something like that same sour complexion,’ said Beatrice.

‘To tell you the truth, lady, I think your description is accurate: although I have to tell you that if he is sour it’s because he misunderstands the situation.’ Don Pedro indicated Hero, whom Claudio had been avoiding looking at. ‘ Here, Claudio, I have wooed in your name and fair Hero has been won. I’ve informed her father and obtained his approval. Name the wedding day, and God give you joy!’

Leonato took Hero’s hand and offered it to Claudio. ‘Count,’ he said, ‘take my daughter from me, and with her my fortunes. His grace has made the match and may God endorse it.’

Claudio looked stunned. He stepped forward and took Hero’s hand from Leonato. He was overwhelmed with feeling and couldn’t speak.

‘Say something, count, it’s your cue,’ said Don Pedro.

‘Silence is the most perfect sign of joy,’ said Claudio. ‘I would fail to tell you how happy I am if I tried to put it into words.’ He turned to Hero and looked into her eyes. ‘Lady, in the same way as you are mine, I am yours. I give myself to you and consider myself the winner in the exchange.’

Beatrice clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Speak, cousin,’ she said, ‘ or if you can’t, stop his mouth with a kiss, and don’t let him speak either.’

Hero blushed and, indeed, couldn’t speak. Instead, she whispered something in Claudio’s ear.

Don Pedro was amused. ‘In faith, lady,’ he said, addressing Beatrice, ‘you have a cheerful heart.’

‘Yes, my lord, and I’m grateful to it, poor dear, because it’s steering clear of trouble.’ She nodded towards the happy pair. ‘My cousin is telling him in his ear that he is in her heart.’

Claudio was all smiles. ‘And so she is, cousin,’ he said.

‘Good lord, he’s quick to claim me as a relation!’ exclaimed Beatrice. ‘Everyone gets married except me, and I am dried up and ugly. I just sit in a corner and sigh for a husband!’ She laughed.

‘Lady Beatrice, I will get you one,’ said Don Pedro.

Beatrice looked him up and down. Then she laughed again. ‘I would love to have one of your father’s sons,’ she said. ‘Has your grace got a brother like you? Your father has produced excellent husbands if a young woman could catch them.’

‘Will you have me?’ said the prince.

They looked at each other for a brief moment. His face was serious.

‘No, my lord,’ she said. Her tone was gentle, apologetic. Then she laughed. ‘Unless I can have another for working days: your grace is too expensive to wear every day. But excuse me, your grace, I was born to talk nonsense and never seriously.’

‘I would be offended if you didn’t,’ said Don Pedro, ‘and lightheartedness suits you best because, without doubt, you were made for it.’

‘That’s for sure, my lord,’ she said. ‘My mother was sad enough but there happened to be a dancing star at the time and it was under that that I was born. Cousins! Happiness to you!’

‘Niece,’ said Leonato, will you see to those things I told you about?’

‘Sorry, uncle, of course,’ she said. ‘If your grace doesn’t mind…’

She hurried off.

‘What a pleasant, high–spirited lady she is,’ said Don Pedro, full of admiration, as he watched her go.

‘There’s not an ounce of melancholy in her, my lord,’ said Leonato. ‘She’s never sad, except when she’s asleep, and not even then. My daughter has often said that whenever she’s had a bad dream she’s woken herself by laughing.’

Don Pedro stroked his beard. ‘She can’t bear any talk about husbands.’

‘Not at all,’ said Leonato. ‘She puts all suitors off with her mocking.’

‘Hmm,’ said the prince. ‘She would make an excellent wife for Benedick.’

They all laughed. ‘O lord!’ said Leonato. ‘If they were married they’d drive each other mad in a week.’

The happy couple stood close together, holding hands.

‘Count Claudio,’ said Don Pedro, ‘when do you intend to go to church?’

‘Tomorrow, my lord,’ said Claudio. ‘Time limps painfully slowly until love has its fulfillment in marriage.’

‘Not till Monday, my dear son,’ said Leonato, ‘which is only a week away, and still not enough time for me to arrange things the way I want them.’

Claudio couldn’t hide his disappointment.

‘Come,’ said the prince, ‘you’re shaking your head at such a long pause for breath, but I guarantee, Claudio, that the time won’t drag. I’m going to use the time to undertake a Herculean task, which is to make Benedick and the Lady Beatrice fall in love with each other. I would love to make that match and I’m sure I can do it, if you three will help me as I direct you.’

‘My lord, I am with you,’ said Leonato, even if it costs me ten nights’ loss of sleep.’

‘And I, my lord,’ said Claudio.

‘And you too, gentle Hero?’

‘I’ll do anything, within reason, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband.’

‘And Benedick wouldn’t make the worst husband I can imagine,’ said Don Pedro. ‘I’ll say this about him: he’s of noble birth, of proved courage and confirmed honesty. I’ll tell you how to condition your cousin so that she’ll fall in love with Benedick, and I, with the help of you two, will work on Benedick in such a way that, in spite of his sharp mind and queasy stomach for marriage, he’ll fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid won’t rule anymore: we’ll be the only gods of love. Come with me and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 2, Scene 2

Don John had made some enquiries among the servants and now he walked through the moonlit garden and joined Borachio, who was sitting on a bench.

‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘Count Claudio is going to marry Leonato’s daughter.’

‘I know, my lord’ said Borachio, ‘but I can prevent it.’

‘Any obstruction, any hindrance, any interference, will be a tonic to me.’ Don John grimaced. ‘I’m nauseated by him, and whatever annoys him gives me pleasure. How can you prevent this marriage?’

‘Not legitimately, my lord,’ said Borachio, ‘but so secretly that no–one will detect it.’

‘Tell me, briefly, how.’

‘I think I told your lordship about a year ago how much Hero’s waiting gentlewoman, Margaret, likes me.’

‘I remember,’ said Don John.

‘I can get her to look out of her lady’s bedroom window at any time of night.’

‘How does that lead to the destruction of this marriage?’ snapped Don John.

‘It’s up to you to concoct something from that,’ said Borachio. ‘Go to your brother: don’t mince words: tell him that he has damaged his honour in marrying the greatly respected Claudio — whom you estimate highly — to a contaminated whore like Hero.

‘How will I be able to prove that?’

‘Proof enough to deceive the prince, to torment Claudio, to destroy Hero and kill Leonato. Are you hoping for any other outcome?’


‘I will do anything to spite them,’ said Don John.

‘Go on then: find a suitable time to draw Don Pedro and Count Claudio aside. Tell them that you’ve discovered that Hero loves me. Show a kind of enthusiasm on behalf of both of them — your concern for your brother’s honour in making this match, and his friend’s reputation, who is likely to be tricked by her pretence at virginity: that you have discovered this. They won’t believe this without proof. Offer to show them — nothing less than seeing me at her bedroom window, hearing me call Margaret Hero, hearing Margaret mockingly call me Claudio: and bring them to see this the night before the intended wedding. In the meantime, I will arrange for Hero to be somewhere else. And Hero’s disloyalty will be so realistic that suspicion will turn into certainty and all their plans will be overthrown.’

‘No matter how bad the consequences will be I’ll do it,’ said Don John. ‘Do this properly and your fee will be a thousand ducats.’

‘Just stick to the accusation and my plan won’t fail.’

‘I’ll go and find out the day of the wedding right now’ said Don John.

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 2, Scene 3

Benedick, still smarting from his encounter with Beatrice, needed a break from the intense social claustrophobia and the constant danger of bumping into her. He went to the orchard and sat down and leant against a tree. A gardening boy was working nearby.

‘Boy!’

The boy looked up. ‘Signior?’

‘There’s a book on my bedroom windowsill. Go and get it and bring it to me, here in the orchard.’

‘I’m back already, sir,’ said the boy.

Benedick smiled. ‘I know, but I want you there and back again.’

The boy took off, running.


Benedick sighed. It was strange how a man, seeing what fools other men make of themselves when they devote themselves to love, will become the very fool he has scorned, by falling in love himself. And after he’s laughed at such shallow folly in others! That was Claudio. He remembered a time when there was no music in Claudio’s soul other than the military sound of the drum and the fife. But now he would rather hear an accompaniment to romance — the music of the tabor and the recorder. He remembered a time when Claudio would have walked ten miles to find a good suit of armour but now he would lie awake for ten nights thinking about fashionable clothes. He used to speak plainly and directly like an honest man and a soldier but now his language was all flowery: his words were an elaborate banquet full of exotic dishes. Could he, Benedick , ever be converted like that? He wasn’t sure: he didn’t think so. He wouldn’t swear that love would never shut him up in a moody silence, like an oyster, but he would take an oath on it that until love did make an oyster of him it would never make a fool of him. One woman he might meet may be beautiful but he was safe: another may be wise but still, he was safe: another may be virtuous and he was still safe. He was safe until he found all those qualities combined in one woman. She would have to be rich, that was a must: clever, or she was out: virtuous, or he would never offer himself: beautiful or he wouldn’t even look at her: gentle, or she wouldn’t get near him: as noble as the coin of that name or he wouldn’t touch her even for ten shillings. She would have to be a good conversationalist, an excellent musician, and after all that, her hair could be whatever colour pleased God.

He heard voices. He got up and crept forward, to the edge of the orchard. The entrance was protected by a trellis, thick with creepers and flowers. He peeped round it. Ah, it was the prince and Monsieur Love! He crouched down behind the trellis. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket, lit it, and prepared to listen to what they were saying.

Don Pedro, Claudio, Leonato, and the singer, Balthasar, stopped at the fountain close to the trellis. Leonato had halted the garden boy and asked him where he was running to so fast, and in that way had discovered the whereabouts of Benedick. He had told the others, and so here they were.

Don Pedro sat down on a bench. ‘Come on,’ he said to Balthasar. ‘Let’s have a song.’

‘What a still evening it is,’ said Claudio. ‘Perfect for listening to music.’

A wisp of cigar smoke rose from behind the trellis. Don Pedro placed his finger over his lips and pointed. ‘See where Benedick has hidden himself?’ he whispered.

Leonato and Claudio laughed silently. ‘When the song’s over we’ll give the crafty fox more than he’s bargained for,’ mouthed Claudio.

‘Come on, Balthasar,’ said Don Pedro loudly. ‘Sing that same song again.’

‘Oh, my good lord,’ said Balthasar, ‘don’t tax such a bad voice to ruin the music any more than once.’

‘It’s a sign of excellence to pretend not to recognise your own talent,’ said Don Pedro. ‘Please sing, and don’t make me woo you again.’

‘As you’re talking about wooing I’ll sing,’ said Balthasar, ‘because many a wooer starts wooing someone he’s not really interested in and yet he’ll still carry on, and swear he loves her.’

‘Come on,’ said the prince impatiently. ‘Or if you want to keep arguing about it, do it with musical notes.’

‘Note this before I start my notes,’ said Balthasar. ‘There’s not a note of mine that’s worth taking note of.’

Don Pedro appealed to the others. ‘He’s talking in crotchets. Notes, notes, and noting.’

Balthasar began strumming on his lute.


Benedick closed his eyes. Music now! The prince’s soul was ravished. Wasn’t it strange how sheep gut strings could call the souls out of men’s bodies? But when all was said and done, for his money he would rather have a battle horn.

Balthasar began singing:
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heavy:
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leafy:


Leonato, Claudio and Don Pedro joined in the chorus
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.


‘By God, that’s a good song,’ said Don Pedro.

‘But a bad singer, my lord,’ said Balthasar.

‘No, no,’ said Don Pedro. ‘You sing well enough in the absence of a good singer.’

Benedick agreed with Balthasar. If he had been a dog howling like that they would have hanged him. He hoped nothing bad would happen as a punishment for that terrible singing. He would rather have heard the raven croaking, no matter what plague that might have brought.

‘Yes indeed,’ said the prince, ‘Listen Balthasar, ‘get us some nice music because tomorrow night we want to serenade beneath Lady Hero’s window,’

‘The best I can, my lord,’ said Balthasar. He got up and turned to go.


‘Do that,’ said Don Pedro. ‘Goodbye.’ He put his finger on his mouth again and jerked his head towards the trellis, from which puffs of smoke came from time to time. ‘Come here, Leonato,’ he said loudly. ‘What was that you were saying about your niece Beatrice being in love with Signior Benedick?’

Claudio rubbed his hands together gleefully. ‘Oh yes, stalk on, stalk on, the pheasant’s a sitting target,’ he whispered. Then out loud: ‘I never thought that lady would ever love any man.’

Benedick almost swallowed his cigar and had to struggle to stop himself from coughing. He got up and pushed his ear into the creepers.

‘No, nor I neither,’ said Leonato, ‘but it’s very strange that she should dote on Signior Benedick so much when she’s made such a point of publicly hating him for eternity.’

Was it possible? Could that really be? Benedick’s mouth hung open.

‘I swear, my lord,’ said Leonato, ‘I don’t know what to think except that she really does love him, with a violent passion. It’s beyond contemplation.’

‘Maybe she’s pretending,’ said Don Pedro.

‘That must be it,’ said Claudio.

‘Oh God, pretending!’ exclaimed Leonato. ‘No pretence has ever come as close to real passion as she shows it.’

‘Why, what passionate behaviour does she show?’ said Don Pedro.

The trestle shook. ‘Keep baiting the hook,’ said Claudio quietly. ‘The fish will bite.’

‘What behaviour? Well listen.’ Leonato looked at Claudio for help. ‘My daughter told you.’

‘She certainly did,’ said Claudio.

‘But how, how?’ said Don Pedro. ‘You amaze me. I would have thought her spirit was invincible against all assaults of love.’

‘I would have sworn it too, my lord: especially against Benedick.’

Benedick was confused. He would have taken it for a practical joke, except that it was the white–bearded fellow saying it. Surely deception couldn’t hide itself in such reverence?

‘He’s hooked,’ whispered Claudio. ‘Keep it up.’


‘Has she told Benedick?’

‘No,’ said Leonato, ‘and swears she never will: that’s what’s tormenting her.’

‘That’s right,’ said Claudio. ‘So your daughter says, “Shall I, who have so often treated him with scorn, write and tell him that I love him”? she says.’

‘She says this now that she’s beginning to write to him,’ said Leonato, ‘because she’s up twenty times a night and there she sits, in her night–dress, until she’s covered a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us everything.’

‘Now you mention a piece of paper,’ said Claudio, ‘I remember a funny episode your daughter told us about.’

‘Oh, that when she had finished she read it over and found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheets?’

‘That one,’ said Claudio.

‘She tore the letter into a thousand little pieces and told herself off for being so immodest as to write to someone who would flout her. “I judge him,” she says, “by my own perceptions, because I would flout him if he were to write to me: yes, although I love him, I would.” ’

‘Then she drops to her knees, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses: “O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!” ’

‘She really does,’ said Leonato. ‘My daughter says so: and the passion has so overwhelmed her that my daughter is sometimes afraid that she’ll do something desperate. It’s very true.’

‘It would be a good idea for someone to tell Benedick about it if she won’t,’ said Don Pedro.

‘What would be the point?’ said Claudio. ‘He would make fun of it and torment the poor lady even more.’

‘If he did it would be an act of charity to hang him. She’s the sweetest lady and, without exaggeration, she’s virtuous,’ said Don Pedro.

‘And very clever,’ said Claudio.

‘In everything except in loving Benedick,’ said Don Pedro.

‘Oh, my lord,’ said Leonato, putting on his best melodramatic manner, ‘cleverness and passion fighting each other in such a young body! There are ten proofs to one that passion has won. I’m sorry for her, and I have cause, being her uncle and her guardian.’


‘I wish she had directed this adoration at me,’ said Don Pedro. ‘I would have ignored everything else and married her immediately. Please, tell Benedick and listen to what he has to say.’

‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ said Leonato.

They pretended to consider it and Benedick held his breath.

‘Well Hero really thinks she’s going to die,’ said Claudio, ‘because she’s saying she’ll die if he doesn’t love her and she’ll die before she tells him she loves him, and she will die if he starts wooing her: she won’t withhold a single breath of her usual crossness.’

‘She’s doing the right thing,’ said Don Pedro. ‘If she told him it’s possible he’d scorn it because, as you all know, the man is contemptible.’

‘He’s a handsome man,’ said Claudio.

‘He’s not too bad looking,’ said Don Pedro.

‘By God!’ exclaimed Claudio, pretending to be angry, ‘in my opinion he’s very clever.’

Don Pedro pretended to consider that. ‘Hm,’ he said, ‘I suppose he does show a few sparks that resemble intelligence.’

‘And I regard him as brave,’ said Claudio.

‘As Hector, I assure you,’ said Don Pedro. ‘And in his conduct of fights you can say he’s clever because he either avoids them with great care, or undertakes them with a most Christian–like fear.’

‘And so he should,’ said Leonato. ‘If he fears God he must necessarily keep the peace: if he breaks it he should enter into a fight with fear and trembling.’

‘And so he will do,’ said Don Pedro. ‘Because the man does fear God, although you wouldn’t think so from some of the things he gets up to. Well, I’m sorry about your niece. Shall we go and look for Benedick and tell him about her love?’

‘Don’t tell him, my lord,’ said Claudio. ‘Let her deal with it with the help of good advice.’

‘No, that’s impossible,’ said Leonato. ‘She may break her heart first.’

‘Well, your daughter will keep us informed. Let it cool off for a while. I’m very fond of Benedick but I wish he would examine himself to see how unworthy he is of such a good lady.’

‘My lord, shall we go?’ said Leonato. ‘Dinner is ready.’

They got up and walked to the villa. When they were out of earshot of Benedick they collapsed with laughter.

‘If he isn’t infatuated with her after that then I’ll never trust my instincts again,’ said Claudius.

‘Let’s have the same net cast for her,’ said Don Pedro. ‘And your daughter and her gentlewomen must do that. The fun will start when each one thinks the other is in love and they’re not. That’s the encounter I would love to see, which will be no more than a dumb–show. Let’s send her to call him to dinner.’

Benedick gave them a minute then stumbled out from behind the trellis and sat on a bench beside the fountain. It couldn’t be a practical joke: the conversation seemed serious. And they had it from Hero. He now knew how they disapproved of his behaviour towards her, but they thought he would behave well once he knew about her true feelings. They also said that she would die rather than show any sign of affection.

He got up and began walking slowly round the fountain. He had never thought he would marry… but he shouldn’t be too obstinate. Those who can hear others’ low opinion of themselves and have the chance to rectify their faults are fortunate. They said the lady was beautiful. That was true. He agreed. And virtuous. That was true too: he couldn’t disagree. And clever, except in loving him! No, that was no proof of her intelligence, nor evidence of stupidity, because he was going to be madly in love with her. Hmmm. He was going to get some scornful comments and they were going to laugh at him because he had spent so much time decrying marriage. But didn’t one’s feelings change? A man often loves food when he’s young that he can’t bear when he gets older. Should superficial things like jokes and sarcastic comments at his expense put him off? No, the world has to be populated. When he said he would die a bachelor it was because he didn’t think he would live long enough to be married.

Beatrice was walking towards him. Here she was. By heaven, she was a beautiful woman! And as she came up to him he was sure he could see signs of love in her.

‘Against my will I have been sent to tell you to come in to dinner,’ she said pointedly.

‘Fair Beatrice, thank you for your pains,’ he said.

She tossed her head. ‘I took no more pains for those thanks than it took you to thank me. If it had been painful I wouldn’t have come.’

‘Do you take pleasure in the errand then?’

‘Yes, as much as you take in pulling out a knife and killing a jackdaw with it.’

When he stood there gawping and didn’t respond, she turned sharply. ‘You have no stomach for a fight, Signior. Goodbye.’

He stood transfixed, unable to move, as she walked swiftly back to the villa.

He resumed his slow walking round the fountain. This time he spoke to himself out loud.

‘Ha! “Against my will I’ve been sent to tell you to come in to dinner.” There’s a double meaning in that. “I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me.” That’s the same as saying, any pains that I take for you are as easy as thanks. I’m a scoundrel if I don’t take pity on her.’

He walked round the fountain a few more times then stopped and looked at the villa. ‘If I don’t love her I’m no Christian.’ He would go and get a picture of her.

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 3, Scene 1

Hero was walking in the garden with her two gentlewomen. Her father had gone through the plan with her and she knew what to do. She led them to the fountain with the statues and benches, and where the flower–covered bower marked the garden entrance to the orchard.

‘Good Margaret,’ she said. ‘Run to the parlour. You’ll find my cousin Beatrice there, talking to the prince and Claudio. Whisper in her ear that Ursula and I are walking in the orchard and we’re talking about her: say that you overheard us and tell her to come to the creepered bower.’ Hero indicated the trellis, yellow with honeysuckle. ‘She can hide behind it and hear what we’re saying. That’s your task. Do it properly and leave the rest to us.’

‘I’ll get her to come, I promise. Right now.’

‘Now, Ursula,’ said Hero when Margaret had gone, ‘when Beatrice comes, we must talk only of Benedick as we walk up and down here. When I mention his name, your role will be to praise him more than any man deserves. I’ll talk about how Benedick is sick with love for Beatrice. Cupid’s cunning arrow will be made out of this conversation and will wound by trickery only.’

A row of raspberry bushes ran beside a path to the orchard’s side entrance and Beatrice ducked behind it then stooped as she scuttled towards the orchard, but Hero spotted her. She laughed. ‘We can start,’ she told Ursula, ‘because look at Beatrice, running, close to the ground like a plover, to eavesdrop on us.’

They watched her hurry into the orchard.

‘The best kind of angling is to watch the fish cutting the silver stream with her golden fins and greedily devouring the fatal bait,’ said Ursula. ‘ That’s how we’re angling for Beatrice.’


The trellis rustled. ‘She’s hiding in the woodbine cover now,’ whispered Ursula. ‘Don’t worry: I know what I have to do.’

‘Then let’s go closer so that she won’t lose any of the false sweet bait we’re laying for her,’ said Hero.

They strolled to the bench and sat down.

‘No, I insist, Ursula,’ said Hero, ‘she’s too disdainful. I know her feelings are as coy and tempestuous as wild hawks are.’

‘But are you sure that Benedick loves Beatrice so madly?’

‘That’s what the prince and my new fiancée say,’ said Hero.

‘And did they ask you to tell her, madam?’ said Ursula.

‘They did, but I persuaded them that if they loved Benedick they should advise him to struggle with it and never let Beatrice know about it.’

‘Why did you do that?’ said Ursula. ‘Doesn’t the gentleman deserve as good a bed as Beatrice will ever lie on?’

‘Oh god of love! I know he deserves as much as any man could be given, but nature never framed a woman’s heart of prouder material than that of Beatrice’s. Disdain and scorn sparkle in her eyes, despising everything they see. And she values her intelligence so highly that nothing else is important. She’s so full of herself that she can’t love anyone or assume any notion or appearance of affection.’

‘I think you’re right,’ said Ursula, ‘and so it certainly wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her in case she makes fun of it.’

‘Why, that’s true,’ said Hero. ‘I never yet saw the man that she wouldn’t misrepresent, no matter how clever, how noble, how young, how handsome he was. If he has a beautiful face she will say he should be her sister: if swarthy she will declare that Nature, drawing a grotesque painting, made a bad blot: if tall, a badly–tipped spear: if short, a roughly carved agate figure: if speaking, why, a weather vane, blown about wildly by the wind: if silent, a block unmoved by any wind. She turns every man inside out and never grants him the merit he deserves.’

‘Yes, yes,’ agreed Ursula, ‘such carping isn’t nice.’


‘No, it’s not nice to be as perverse and out of step with everyone as Beatrice is. But who would dare tell her that? If I tried she would mock me mercilessly. Oh, she would laugh at me till I wouldn’t know myself and crush me to death with sarcasm. So let Benedick die with sighs, like a smothered fire. That would be a better death than to die with mocks, which is just as bad as dying with tickling.’

‘But still,’ said Ursula, ‘I think you should tell her and see what she says.’

‘No,’ said Hero. ‘I’ll go to Benedick instead, and advise him to fight his passion. And also, I’ll make up some innocent faults to brand my cousin with. You don’t know how much a bit of slander can poison someone’s opinion.’

‘Oh don’t do that,’ said Ursula. ‘With such a quick and brilliant intelligence as she’s supposed to have she can’t be so lacking in judgment as to refuse such an exceptional gentleman as Signior Benedick.’

‘He is the most handsome man in Italy,’ said Hero. ‘With the exception of my dear Claudio, of course.’

‘Please don’t be cross with me for speaking my mind, madam,’ said Ursula. ‘For figure, for bearing, intellect and bravery, Signior Benedick has the highest reputation in Italy.’

‘Oh yes, he has an excellent reputation,’ said Hero.

‘And he’s earned it,’ said Ursula. ‘When are you getting married, madam?’

‘Why, tomorrow. Come, let’s go in. ‘We’ll go through my dresses and you can advise me which is the best one to wear tomorrow.’

As they walked away Ursula was excited. ‘She’s trapped,’ she said. ‘I assure you, we’ve caught her, madam.’

‘If it works out it shows how haphazard love is. Cupid sometimes kills with arrows and sometimes with traps.’

Beatrice came out slowly from behind the trellis and sank down on the bench. What fire was in her ears? Could it be true? Did she stand so terribly condemned for pride and scorn? She would bid farewell to contempt and maiden pride. There was nothing to be gained by it. Benedick! Let him love her, she would requite it and tame her wild heart to his loving hand. If he did love her then the way she was going to treat him from now on would make him propose to her. Everyone said he deserved it and she could see it now and needed no reports about it.

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 3, Scene 2

The four men sat in the shade of a huge cyprus tree. Don Pedro filled two wine glasses and handed one to Claudio.

‘I’m staying only till your wedding is over and then I’m going to Arragon,’ he said.

‘I’ll accompany you there if you’ll allow me to, my lord,’ said Claudio.

Don Pedro laughed. ‘No, that would be like sand in the new gloss of your marriage, like giving a child a new coat and forbidding him to wear it. I’ll allow Benedick only, because he’s all fun, from head to toe. He’s cut Cupid’s bow–string twice or three times and the little rascal dare not shoot at him. His heart is as sound as a bell and his tongue is the clapper, because his tongue speaks whatever his heart feels.’ Benedick had been silent throughout. He spoke now, almost for the first time. He drew in his breath as though about to make an important announcement.

‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I’ve changed.’

The others struggled to keep straight faces. Leonato touched his arm gently in mock sympathy. ‘Yes you have. You’re more sad.’

‘I hope he’s in love,’ said Claudio.

‘What are you talking about!’ exclaimed Don Pedro. ‘There’s not a drop of blood in him that could be touched by love. If he’s sad it’s because he’s short of money!’

‘I’ve got a toothache,’ said Benedick.

‘Pull it out,’ said Don Pedro.

Benedick stared out at the blue sea. ‘Hang it!’ he exclaimed suddenly.


‘Yes,’ said Claudio. ‘You must hang it first and then pull it out.’

‘What!’ said Don Pedro. ‘Sad because of a toothache?’

‘Which is only a mood or a worm in your tooth,’ said Leonato.

‘Well it’s easy to solve someone else’s problems,’ said Benedick.

They exchanged glances and returned to their wine.

‘I still think he’s in love,’ said Claudio.

Don Pedro leant forward and perused Benedick’s face then sat back again and shook his head. ‘There’s no sign of love in him,’ he said, ‘unless it’s the love he has for strange outfits, being a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow, or looking like two countries at the same time, such as a German from the waist down, all baggy britches, and a Spaniard from the hip up, and no doublet. He may have a love of this foolery, as it seems he does, but he is no fool of love, as you’re trying to make out.’

‘If he’s not in love with some woman, there’s no truth in the old signs like brushing one’s hat in the mornings. What could that mean?’ said Claudio.

‘Has anyone seen him at the barber’s,’ said Don Pedro.

‘No, but the barber’s man has been seen with him and his beard is now stuffing tennis balls.’

Leonato also inspected Benedick’s face, now. ‘Yes, he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard,’ he said.

Don Pedro leant forward again, sniffed and pulled a face. ‘Yes, and he’s been rubbing himself with perfume. Can you smell him?’

‘That’s as good as saying that the sweet young man’s in love,’ said Claudio.

‘The giveaway is his melancholy,’ said Don Pedro.

‘And since when did he wash his face?’ said Claudio.

‘Yes, and put on makeup,’ said Don Pedro.

‘And his sense of humour has crept into a lute–string and been replaced by frets.’

‘Well all that says something sad about him,’ said Don Pedro. ‘The conclusion is that he’s in love.’


‘Yes,’ said Claudio, ‘and I know someone who’s in love with him.’

‘I’d like to know who that could be,’ said Don Pedro. ‘I’ll bet it’s someone who doesn’t know him.’

‘Yes she does, and all his bad points, and in spite of all that, is dying for him.’

‘She’ll die on her back,’ said Don Pedro.

They all laughed, except Benedick, who scowled and pushed his chair back. He got up. ‘This is no cure for a toothache,’ he said. ‘Old Signior, come with me. I want a few words with you, which I don’t want these buffoons to hear.’

‘On my life,’ said Don Pedro when they had gone, ‘he’s going to broach it with Leonato.’

‘I sure of that,’ said Claudio. ‘Hero and Margaret will have played their parts with Beatrice by now, so now the two bears won’t bite one another when they meet.’

Don John was walking across the lawn. He waved. ‘My lord and brother,’ he called. He came up to them and sat down. ‘God save you,’ he said.

‘Good day, brother,’ said Don Pedro.

‘I’d like a word when you’re free,’ said Don John.

‘In private?’

‘If you don’t mind: but Count Claudio can listen because what I have to say concerns him.’

‘What’s it about?’

Don John looked at Claudio. ‘Is your lordship intending to get married tomorrow?’

Don Pedro frowned. ‘You know he is.’

‘I’m not so sure, when he knows what I know.’

‘If there’s any impediment please tell us,’ said Claudio.

‘You may think I don’t like you,’ said Don John. ‘Judge that after I’ve spoken and judge better according to what I’m going to tell you. Regarding my brother, I think he holds you in high esteem and out of friendship for you has helped to bring your ensuing marriage about — and a bad suit it was and a waste of effort.’


‘Why, what’s the matter?’ said Don Pedro.

‘I came here to tell you, and to be brief, the lady is unfaithful.’

Claudio sprang up. ‘Who? Hero?’

‘The very one,’ said Don John. ‘Leonto’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero.’

‘Unfaithful?’ Claudio sat down again slowly.

‘The word is too good to describe her wickedness. I would say she was worse than that. Think of a worse word and I will fit her to it. Don’t try and work it out until you see proof. Just come with me tonight and you will see someone enter at her bedroom window, even the night before her wedding day. If you still love her after that, marry her tomorrow, but it would be better for your honour to change your mind.’

Claudio appealed to Don Pedro. ‘Could this be so?’

‘I can’t imagine it,’ said the prince.

‘If you don’t dare to believe your eyes, don’t say you know,’ said Don John. ‘If you’ll come with me I will show you enough, and when you’ve seen and heard more, then act accordingly.’

‘If I see anything like that tonight, I won’t marry her tomorrow. In that same place I’ll shame her,’ said Claudio.

‘And as I was the one who wooed to get her for you, I will join you in disgracing her,’ said Don Pedro.

‘I won’t disparage her any further until you are my witnesses,’ said Don John. ‘Bear it patiently till midnight and let the issue reveal itself.’

‘Oh how sour the day has turned,’ said Don Pedro.

‘Oh mischief interfering so unusually,’ said Claudio.

‘Oh plague so well prevented,’ said Don John. ‘That’s what you’ll say when you’ve seen the next episode.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 3, Scene 3

Dogberry, the Constable, with the help of his second in command, Verges, was inspecting the Watch, who stood, lined up in the street, opposite the church, ready for their shift. It was dark and Verges carried a lantern.

Dogberry twirled his truncheon and squinted at them. ‘Are you good men and true?’

‘Yes,’ said Verges, ‘or else, it were a pity, but they would suffer salvation, body and soul.’

Dogberry flicked a leaf off the shoulder of one of them with his truncheon. ‘Nay,’ he said, ‘that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince’s watch.’

‘Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry,’ said Verges.

Dogberry drew himself up and placed his hand on his chest. ‘First, who think you the most desertless man to be constable?’

One of the watchmen pointed to two others. ‘Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole,’ he said, ‘for they can write and read.’

Dogberry tapped his palm with his truncheon. ‘Come hither, neighbour Seacole,’ he said. ‘God has blessed you with a good name: to be a well–favoured man is the gift of fortune: but to write and read comes by nature.’

The watchman began: ‘Both which, master constable…’


‘You have,’ he said looking sternly at the watchman, who stepped back to his place. ‘I knew it would be your answer.’ He turned back to Seacole. ‘Well, for your favour, sir, why, give thanks, and make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appear when 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 lantern. This is your charge. You shall comprehend all vagrom men: you are to bid any man stand, in the prince’s name.’

‘How if he will not stand?’ said Seacole.

‘Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go: and presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a knave.’

‘If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince’s subjects.’ said Verges.

‘True, said Dogberry, ‘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 to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured.’

‘We will rather sleep than talk,’ said Seacole. ‘We know what belongs to a watch.’

‘Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman: for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the ale–houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed.’

‘How if they will not?’ said Seacole.

‘Why, then, let them alone till they are sober: if they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for.’

‘Well, sir,’ said Seacole.

‘If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man,’ said Dogberry. ‘And, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty.’

‘If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?’

‘Truly, by your office, you may: but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company.’

‘You have been always called a merciful man, partner,’ said Verges.

‘Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him,’ said Dogberry.

‘If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it,’ said Verges.

‘How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?’ said Seacole.


‘Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats,’ said Dogberry.

Verges nodded at his friend’s wisdom. ‘Tis very true.’

‘This is the end of the charge,’ said Dogberry. ‘You, constable, are to present the prince’s own person: if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him.’

‘Nay, by’r lady, that I think he cannot,’ said Verges.

‘Five shillings to one on’t, with any man that knows the statutes, he may stay him’ said Dogberry. ‘Marry, not without the prince be willing: for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man: and it is an offence to stay a man against his will.’

‘By’r lady, I think it be so,’ said Verges.

‘Ha, ha, ha!’ Dogberry took the lantern from Verges and handed it to Seacole. ‘Well, masters, good night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows’ counsels and your own: and good night. Come, neighbour.’

‘Well, masters,’ said Seacole, ‘we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church–bench till two, and then all to bed.’

Dogberry turned again. ‘One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch about Signior Leonato’s door: for the wedding being there to–morrow, there is a great coil to–night.

Adieu: be vigitant, I beseech you.’

Seacole extinguished the lamp and they sat to wait. Before long, they heard someone coming.

‘Hey Conrade!’ a voice called.

‘Quiet,’ whispered Seacole. ‘Don’t move.’

The voice came again. ‘Conrade, I say!’

Another voice: ‘Here man, I’m at your elbow. By our lady, my elbow was itchy so I knew there was some kind of villain there.’

‘I’ll pay you back for that Borachio,’ said Conrade. ‘Now get on with your story.’


‘Let’s shelter from the drizzle under this overhang and I’ll spill it all out to you like a drunkard,’ said Borachio.

‘There’s some treason afoot,’ whispered Seacole. ‘Don’t move yet.’

‘I’ve earned a thousand ducats from Don John,’ said Borachio.

‘Is it possible that any villainy should cost so much?’ said Conrade.

‘You should rather ask if it were possible that any villainy should be so rich, because when rich villains need poor ones, the poor ones can name their price.’

‘I’m amazed,’ said Conrade.

‘That shows how inexperienced you are. You know that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, doesn’t tell you anything about the man.’

‘Yes, they’re only clothes,’ said Conrade.

‘I mean the fashion.’

Conrade was confused. Borachio was leaning heavily on him and smelling foully of ale. Conrade humoured his friend. ‘Yes, the fashion is the fashion,’ he said.

Borachio belched. ‘Tosh! I might as well say the fool’s the fool. But…’ He swayed and Conrade caught him and righted him ‘… can’t you see how deformed a thing the latest fashion is?’

‘Shhh.’ said Seacole. ‘I know that fellow, Deformed. He has been a vile thief this seven year: he goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember his name.’

Borachio turned his head. ‘Didn’t you hear someone?’

‘No, it was the weathervane on the roof,’ said Conrade.

‘Can’t you see what a grotesque thief fashion is? How he turns the heads of all the hot bloods between fourteen and thirty–five? Sometimes he makes them like Pharaoh’s soldiers in the painting of the drowning in the Red Sea, sometimes like the priests in the story of Bel, and sometimes like the clean shaven Hercules in the old tapestries, where his codpiece is as big as his club.’


‘Yes, yes,’ said Conrade. ‘I understand all that, and I can see that fashion is bigger than the man. But hasn’t your head been turned giddy by fashion too, that you’ve changed the subject by talking about fashion?’ Borachio thought about it. ‘No,’ he said, ‘not at all, but I know that tonight I wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero’s gentlewoman, in Hero’s name. She leant out of her mistress’ bedroom window, wishing me goodnight a thousand times. But I’m telling you this story badly. I should first tell you that the prince, Claudio, and my master, planted there by my master, Don John, watched this amorous encounter from the orchard.’

‘And they thought Margaret was Hero?’

‘Two of them did,’ said Borachio. ‘The Prince and Claudio, but that devil, my master, knew she was Margaret. And partly because of his assurances, that ensnared them, and partly because of the darkness, which deceived them, but mainly because of my villainy, that confirmed Don John’s slander, Claudio went away enraged. He swore that he would meet her, as arranged, at the temple tomorrow morning, and there, in front of the whole congregation, he would shame her with what he saw tonight and send her home without a husband.’

Suddenly there was a light and a band of watchmen surrounded them. ‘We charge you, in the prince’s name, stand!’ a voice said.

Another voice gave an instruction: ‘Call up the right master constable. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth.’

‘And one Deformed is one of them,’ said Seacole. ‘I know him by that hanging curl in his hair.’

‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ said Conrade as they laid their hands on him.

‘You’ll be made to bring Deformed forth,’ said Seacole.

‘Gentlemen…’

‘Never speak,’ said Seacole. ‘We charge you, let us obey you to go with us.’

‘We’re likely to prove prize captives, being arrested by this lot,’ said Borachio.

‘That’s debatable, I’m sure,’ said Conrade. ‘Come, we’ll obey you.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 3, Scene 4

It was Hero’s wedding day. She was so confused that she couldn’t get her thoughts together. Items of clothing were spread all over the chairs and sofas and she lifted one and then another, flung each one down and sighed. Margaret and Ursula were trying to help her, tidying up after her, keeping things in as much order as they could.

‘Good Ursula,’ said Hero, ‘go and wake my cousin Beatrice and tell her to get up.’

‘I’ll do that, lady,’ said Ursula.

‘And tell her to come here.’

‘Right.’ She ran off.

Margaret lifted the stiff ornamental collar that Hero had chosen. ‘I really think the other one would be better,’ she said.

‘No please,’ said Hero, ‘I want to wear this one.’

‘I’m telling you, it’s not as suitable, and I know your cousin will agree.’

‘My cousin’s a fool, and so are you. I’m going to wear it.’

‘I like those new hair extensions very much,’ said Margaret,’ if they were a touch browner. And your dress is very fashionable, I must say. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s dress that was so much admired.’

‘Oh, they say it’s wonderful,’ said Hero.


‘I swear it’s just a dressing–gown compared with yours: cloth of gold and pleats, and silver laces, decorated with pearls, fitted sleeves and ornamental sleeves, and skirts trimmed underneath with a bluish tint. But yours is worth ten of it as far as delicacy, elegance, gracefulness and fashion are concerned.’

‘I hope it cheers me up because my heart is heavy,’ said Hero.

Margaret giggled. ‘It will soon be even heavier with the weight of a man on it.’

Hero started to laugh then checked herself. ‘Disgusting!’ she said. ‘Aren’t you ashamed?’

‘Why? For speaking quite properly? Isn’t marriage an honourable thing? Isn’t your lord honourable? I think you would rather I had said, ‘excuse me, a husband’ instead of ‘a man’. And bad wording doesn’t alter the truth. I wouldn’t deliberately offend anyone. Is there any harm in saying ‘the heavier for a husband’? No, I don’t think so, if it’s the right husband and the right wife, otherwise it would be a saucy thing to say. Ask my lady Beatrice: here she is.’

‘Good morning, coz,’ said Hero.

Beatrice wasn’t herself. She had obviously lost sleep and when she greeted Hero it wasn’t with her usual tomboyish vigour. ‘Good morning, sweet Hero,’ she said weakly.

‘Why, how are you?’ said Hero. ‘You seem to be in a sad mood.’

‘I think I’ve run out of all other moods,’ said Beatrice.

‘Let’s sing ‘Light of love’,’ said Margaret. ‘We can sing that without a male voice. You sing and I’ll dance to it.’

‘Light of love yourself!’ said Beatrice. ‘You’d kick your heels with any man. And you’re likely to get pregnant too.’

‘That’s not fair,’ said Margaret.

‘It’s almost five o’clock, cousin,’ said Beatrice. ‘You’d better get ready.’ She sank down in an armchair. ‘I’m telling you, I’m really not well. I wish…’

‘For a hawk, a horse or a husband?’ said Margaret.

‘For the letter that begins them all, H,’ said Beatrice.

‘Well, if you haven’t changed your views on love there’ll be no more sailing by the Pole star.’

‘I wonder what the fool means by that,’ said Beatrice.


‘Nothing,’ said Margaret. ‘But God send everyone their heart’s desire.’

‘These gloves that the count sent me,’ said Hero, ‘they smell divine.’ She held the gloves under Beatrice’s nose.

‘I’m all stuffed up, cousin. I can’t smell them.’

‘A maid and stuffed!’ Margaret laughed loudly. ‘That’s a good cold!’

‘Oh God help me,’ said Beatrice. ‘Since when have you been a great wit?’

‘Ever since you gave it up. Don’t you like my sense of humour?’

‘We don’t see enough of it,’ said Beatrice. ‘You should wear it on your cap. God, I feel sick.’

‘Get some of that distillation of Carduus Benedictus,’ said Margaret. ‘Rub it on your chest. It’s the best thing for a sudden sickness.’

Beatrice sprang to her feet.

‘You said something that pricked her like a thistle,’ said Hero.

‘Benedictus! Why Benedictus?’ said Beatrice. ‘Is there a hidden meaning in that Benedictus?’

‘Hidden meaning? No, honestly, I don’t have any hidden meaning. I meant plain holy thistle. You may perhaps be thinking that I think you’re in love. No, by our lady, I’m not such a fool as to think what I like, nor do I like to think what comes into my mind, nor, indeed, I don’t think, however much I thought my heart away, that you are in love or ever would be in love or that you could be in love. And yet, Benedick was another one like that, and now he’s grown up. He swore he would never get married, and yet, now, in spite of that he’s become calmer. And how you’ve been converted I don’t know, but I think you’re beginning to look at things as other women do.’

‘What’s this nonsense your tongue’s running away with?’ said Beatrice.

Margaret smiled slyly. ‘It’s not a false gallop.’

Ursula came in breathlessly. ‘Madam, come on,’ she said. ‘The prince, the count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the townsfolk have come to take you to church.’

‘Help me get dressed, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula,’ said Hero.

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 3, Scene 5

Leonato was dressed and ready for the wedding. He had trimmed his beard, put on his best suit, and was about to leave when a servant came to tell him that the master constable wanted to see him. He went out and walked to the gate. Dogberry and Verges stood there.

‘What can I do for you honest neighbour?’ said Leonato.

‘Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly,’ said Dogberry.

‘Please be brief,’ said Leonato, ‘because you can see that I’m very busy.’

Dogberry drew himself up: ‘Marry, this it is, sir,’ he said.

‘Yes, in truth it is, sir,’ said Verges.

‘What is it, my good friends?’

‘Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire they were: but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows,’ said Dogberry.

‘Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I am,’ said Verges.

Dogberry turned a stern eye on him. ‘Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges,’ he said.

‘Neighbours, you are tedious,’ said Leonato.

Dogberry bowed. ‘It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke’s officers: but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to bestow it all on your worship.’

‘All your tediousness on me, huh?’


‘Yea, an ’twere a thousand pound more than ’tis: for I hear as 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,’ said Dogberry.

‘And so am I,’ agreed Verges.

‘I really would like to know what you have to say,’ said Leonato.

‘Marry, sir,’ said Verges, ‘our watch to–night, excepting your worship’s presence, ha’ ta’en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina.’

Dogberry looked affectionately at his partner. ‘A good old man, sir: he will be talking: as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out: God help us! it is a world to see. Well said, in faith, neighbour Verges: well, God’s a good man: an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest soul, in faith, sir: by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but God is to be worshipped: all men are not alike: alas, good neighbour!’

‘That’s right, neighbour,’ said Leonato. ‘He can’t match you.’

‘Gifts that God gives,’ said Dogberry.

‘I have to go,’ said Leonato. He turned.

‘One word, sir,’ said Dogberry. ‘Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.’

‘Take their examination yourself and bring it to me,’ said Leonato. ‘I’m in a hurry, as you can see.’

Dogberry nodded gravely. ‘It shall be suffigance,’ he said.

‘Drink some wine before you go,’ said Leonato. ‘Goodbye.’

A messenger met him as he was walking away.

‘My lord, they’re waiting for you to give your daughter to her husband,’ he said.

‘I’m on my way,’ said Leonato.

‘Go, good partner,’ said Dogberry after Leonato had gone. ‘Go, get you to Francis Seacole: bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now to examination these men.’

‘And we must do it wisely,’ said Verges.


‘We will spare for no wit, I warrant you: here’s that shall drive some of them to a non–come: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication and meet me at the gaol.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 4, Scene 1

The church stood opposite Leonato’s villa. The church yard overlooked a vast expanse of blue sea. It was a place Hero sometimes came to sit and reflect in silence. She had often imagined the wedding that she would have there one day and now that day had come. The houseguests had assembled and several notables from Messina had joined them. As she entered the church with her father she spied her handsome groom standing with the prince at the altar, both splendid in their uniforms. His officer friends sat at the front, also in uniform. Her cousin turned and smiled as she walked up the aisle. Her old friend, Friar Francis, beamed his welcome.

‘Come, Friar Francis,’ said Leonato. ‘Be brief: just the plain marriage service. You can outline the particular duties of marriage afterwards.’

Hero took her place beside Claudio.

‘Have you come here to marry this lady, my lord?’ said the friar.

‘No!’ said Claudio sharply.

There was some laughter.

‘To be married to her,’ said Leonato. ‘You’ve come here to marry her.’

Friar Francis smiled. He knew something about the sense of humour of these young officers — never knowing where to stop. He looked at Hero. ‘Lady, you’ve come here to be married to this count.’

‘I have,’ said Hero.

‘If either of you know of any secret impediment why you should not be joined together, I charge you, on your souls, to say so.’

Claudio, unsmiling, glared at her. ‘Do you know of any, Hero?’


‘None, my lord.’

‘Do you know of any, count?’ said the friar.

‘I dare to give his answer,’ said Leonato. ‘None.’

Claudio turned on him. ‘Oh, what men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, knowing not what they do!’

‘What’s this,’ called Benedick. ‘Is this a grammar lesson? It’s just like the one on laughing in the grammar book.’

Claudio’s face hadn’t changed throughout. ‘Stand aside, friar,’ he said. ‘Old man, do you give me this virgin, your daughter, freely and without conditions?’

‘As freely, son, as God gave her to me.’

‘And what do you want from me in return for this rich and precious gift?’

‘Nothing, unless you give her back to me.’

The laughter in the church was tinged with nervousness now.

Claudio made a slight bow to his friend. ‘Dear prince,’ he said. ‘you’ve taught me how to show true gratitude.’ He took Hero’s arm roughly and projected her towards her father. ‘There, Leonato,’ he said. ‘Take her back again. Don’t give this rotten orange to your friend: she’s only showing the outward signs and appearance of honour. Look how she’s blushing like a virgin! Oh, the way cunning sin can cover itself with such a display of conviction and truth! Is that blushing modesty evidence of simple virtue?’ He turned and faced the congregation. ‘Wouldn’t all of you, looking at her now, swear that she is a virgin, judging by these blushes? But she isn’t. She knows the heat of a lecherous bed. Her blushes are guilt, not modesty.’

The guests were silent now, watching tensely.

‘What are you talking about?’ said Leonato.

‘Not being married: not to join my soul with a proven whore,’ said Claudio.

‘My dear lord,’ said Leonato, forcing a smile, ‘if you are using this because you have taken advantage of her youth to steal her virginity…’


‘I understand what you’re saying,’ snapped Claudio, ‘that if I’ve had her, you will say that she did it because she had embraced me as a husband, so excusing the sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with inappropriate requests, but showed bashful sincerity and becoming love, as a brother would for his sister.’

‘And did I ever seem anything else to you?’ said Hero.

‘How dare you!’ shouted Claudio. ‘Seeming!’ I’ll tell you. You ‘seem’ to me as chaste as Diana, the goddess of chastity herself: as chaste as the bud before it opens, but you are more extreme in your blood than Venus, or those domestic pets that under their pampered surface are raging with bestial sensuality.’

‘Is my lord feeling unwell that he’s speaking so extravagantly?’

Leonato appealed to Don Pedro. ‘Sweet prince, why don’t you say something?’

‘What can I say?’ said Don Pedro. ‘I’ve been dishonoured by putting myself out to link my dear friend to a common whore.’

Leonato looked from Don Pedro to Claudio and back again. ‘Are you really saying these things or am I only dreaming?’ he said.

Don John got up and approached Leonato. ‘Sir, they have said them and these things are true,’ he said.

Benedick also got up. ‘This doesn’t look like a wedding,’ he said.

Hero, who had been growing paler crept into her father’s embrace, where she burst into tears. ‘True!’ she cried. ‘O God!’

‘Leonato,’ said Claudio. ‘Am I standing here? Is this the prince? Is this the prince’s brother? Is this face Hero’s? Are our eyes our own?’

‘All this is so,’ said Leonato. ‘But what of it, my lord?’

‘Let me put one question to your daughter, and by the natural and fatherly influence you have with her, ask her to answer honestly.’

‘As your father I order you to do so,’ said Leonato.

She moved away from his embrace. ‘Oh God help me!’ she sobbed. ‘Why am I being attacked? What kind of questioning do you call this?’

‘To see if you live up to your name,’ said Claudio.

‘Isn’t it Hero? Who can stain that name with any dishonourable act?’


‘Indeed,’ said Claudio. ‘Hero can. Hero herself can stain Hero’s virtue. Who was that man who talked to you last night at your window between twelve and one? Now, if you’re a virgin, answer that!’

‘I didn’t talk to any man at that hour, my lord!’

‘Well then, you are no virgin,’ said Don Pedro. ‘Leonato, I’m sorry that you have to hear this. On my honour, my brother, this wronged count, and I, saw her, heard her, talking to a ruffian at that time last night, at her bedroom window. He has, a most licentious villain, confessed the vile secret encounters that they’ve had a thousand times.’

‘Stop, stop!’ said Don John, ‘they can’t be named, my lord, can’t be mentioned: there are no words in language offensive enough to utter their names.’ He smiled. ‘And so, pretty lady, I’m sorry about your disreputable conduct.’

Beatrice went to her cousin and took her in her arms. Hero sobbed with abandon. ‘Oh Hero,’ said Claudio sadly. ‘What a Hero you would have been if even half the thoughts and content of your heart had matched your outward beauty. But farewell, you most foul, most fair woman! Farewell. You pure ungodliness and ungodly purity! Because of you I’ll block all love from now on and view all women with suspicion, turning all beauty into negative thoughts, and never see virtue in any of you again.’

Leonato clutched his chest and sank on to a pew. ‘Will someone kill me?’ he said.

Hero fainted.

‘Cousin!’ screamed Beatrice. ‘She’s fallen!’

‘Come, let’s go,’ said Don John. ‘These things, coming to light like this, have defeated her.’

Don Pedro, Claudio and Don John turned and marched up the aisle. The congregation, stunned, began slowly to drift away. Finally, only Leonato’s family, Benedick and the friar were left. Beatrice was trying to revive the unconscious Hero.

‘How is she?’ said Benedick.

‘Dead I think,’ said Beatrice. She continued to stroke her cousin’s forehead and whisper to her but there was no response. Then she looked up. ‘Help, uncle, she said. Hero! Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!’

Benedick and the friar bent over her too. Leonato, breathing heavily, covered his face with his hands. ‘Oh Fate!’ he cried. ‘Don’t take your heavy hand away. Death is the best cover that can he hoped for for her shame.’


Hero stirred. ‘How are you, cousin Hero?’ said Beatrice.

‘Don’t worry, lady,’ said Friar Francis.

Leonato got up and walked unsteadily to his daughter. ‘Are you waking up?’

‘Yes,’ said Friar Francis. ‘Why shouldn’t she?’

‘Why! Doesn’t every earthly thing proclaim her shame? Was she able to deny the story that’s printed in her blood? Don’t live, Hero: don’t open your eyes. If I thought that you weren’t going to die soon, if I thought your spirits were stronger than your shame, I would kill you myself on the strength of this evidence. Did I grieve that I had only one child? Did I curse nature’s meanness? Oh, you were one too many! Why did I have even one? Why did I ever regard you as lovely? Why didn’t I adopt the child of the beggar at my gates who, when turned out infamously like this, I might have said, ‘that’s not my child — this shame comes from someone else’s loins’? But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised, and mine I was so proud of, mine so much that I had no thought for myself, valuing her so much.’ He pointed at her. ‘Why she….. Oh, she’s fallen into a pit of ink: the wide sea doesn’t have enough water to wash her clean again, and not enough salt to make her sound again.’

Benedick touched Leonato’s arm. ‘Sir, sir, be patient. For myself, I’m so amazed that I don’t know what to say.’

‘Oh, on my soul,’ said Beatrice, ‘my cousin has been defamed!’

‘Lady, did you sleep in her room last night?’ said Benedick.

‘No, I didn’t,’ said Beatrice, ‘but until last night I have done so for the last year.’

‘Confirmed, confirmed!’ cried Leonato. ‘Oh that makes the proof that was solid as iron before even stronger. Would the two princes and Claudio, who loved her so much, who wept when speaking about her foulness, lie? Leave her! Let her die.’


‘Listen to me for a moment,’ said Friar Francis, ‘ because I have been silent all this time, just watching this sad course of fortune. I’ve watched the lady and noticed a thousand blushing signs flushing across her face, a thousand changes from wrongly accused shame to angelic innocence. And in her eyes there has been a fire that denies the mistake that these princes have made about her honour. Call me a fool: don’t trust my reading of it, which is informed by all my education. Don’t consider my age, my religious dedication, my calling, nor my devotion to God if my opinion that this lady is innocent is wrong: if she isn’t the victim of some bitter error.’

‘That’s impossible, Friar,’ said Leonato, unable to look at his daughter. ‘You’ve seen that the only redeeming thing she’s capable of is that she won’t add perjury to her sins. She hasn’t denied it. Why are you trying to deny the obvious?’

Friar Francis took Hero’s hand. ‘Lady, who is this man you have been accused of?’

‘Those who have accused me know: I don’t know any such man. If I know any living man more intimately than is fitting to maiden modesty then let me be condemned forever!’ She tried to sit up. ‘Oh, my father, if you can prove that any man talked to me during unsuitable hours, or that I exchanged words with anyone at all last night then reject me, hate me, torture me to death!’

‘There is some serious misunderstanding on the part of the princes,’ said the friar.

Benedick was thoughtful. He nodded. ‘Two of them are absolute examples of honour, and if they’ve been misled in this, John the bastard is behind it.’

Leonato clenched his fists and looked furiously at Hero. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘If they’re telling the truth about her I’ll tear her apart with these hands. If they have wronged her honour, the best of them will hear from me. My blood hasn’t been so dried up with old age, nor has my creativity been so affected by it, nor has fortune deprived me of my means, nor have I lost my friends. They will find a newly awakened physical strength and resolve in me, plenty of means and a choice of enough friends to destroy them.’

‘Don’t do anything yet,’ said the friar. ‘Let me advise you. The princes left your daughter here for dead. Keep her hidden for a while. Put it about that she’s really dead. Go into mourning, put some funereal tokens around your ancient family tomb, and observe all the conventions of a burial.’

‘And then what?’ said Leonato. ‘How will that help?’

‘If it’s properly done, it will change slander of her into remorse, of course,’ said the friar. ‘That’s positive in itself, but there’s more to my plan. On her death, as everyone will regard it, she will be lamented, pitied and forgiven by all who hear about it. It’s always the case that the things we don’t value while we are enjoying them we miss when we lose them and then we think about it, then we see the virtues that we couldn’t while we had them. That will happen with Claudio. When he hears that she died because of his words he will begin to think about her and all her fine qualities will take on a new glow and he will value her more than he did when she was alive. Then, if he ever really loved her, he’ll mourn for her and wish he had never accused her. No, not even if he still believed his accusation to be well–founded. Do this and don’t doubt that it will be successful — more so than I can say. If it isn’t then the belief that she’s dead will soften the impact of her supposed infamy, and if it doesn’t work out, well then you can send her to a reclusive, religious life, as would be fitting for her reputation, away from all eyes, tongues and further injuries.’

‘Take the friar’s advice, Signior Leonato,’ said Benedick. ‘And although you know that I’m very much attached to the prince and Claudio, yet, by my honour I will act on this as justly as if I were you.’

‘As I’m overwhelmed by grief I’ll clutch at anything,’ said Leonato.

‘Good,’ said the friar. ‘Let’s go and do it right away. Desperate ills must have desperate remedies. Come, lady, die so that you can live. Perhaps this wedding day is only postponed. Be patient and be brave.’

Benedick and Beatrice, as though by a silent agreement, lingered after the others had gone. Beatrice’s face was tear stained.

‘Lady Beatrice,’ said Benedick tenderly, ‘have you been crying all this time?’

‘Yes, and I haven’t finished yet,’ she said.

‘I don’t want that,’ he said.

‘It’s not up to you. I don’t need permission.’

‘I really do believe your lovely cousin has been wronged,’ he said.

She looked into his eyes. ‘Ah, how grateful I would be to the man who could put it right.’

‘Is there any way a man could show that friendship?’ he said.

‘A most certain way, but I have no such friend.’

‘Can it be done by a man?’

‘It’s a man’s job, but not yours.’

They gazed at each other for a long time. Then Benedick spoke.

‘I love you more than anything in the world. Isn’t that strange?’

‘As strange as…’ she began. ‘I don’t know. ‘It would be just as easy for me to say that I loved you more than anything in the world… but you shouldn’t believe me… and yet I’m not lying. I’m not confessing anything and I’m not denying anything. I’m upset about my cousin.’

Benedick’s face lit up. He took a step towards her. ‘By my sword, Beatrice, you love me!’ he exclaimed.

‘Don’t swear and then regret it later.’

‘I will swear by my sword, and I will make anyone that says I don’t love you regret it.’

‘You won’t eat your words?’

He took her hand, which she gave freely. ‘With no sauce that you can think of! I swear I love you.’

‘Well then, God forgive me!’

‘For what, sweet Beatrice?’

‘You stopped me just in time. I was about to swear that I loved you.’

‘Then do it with all your heart!’

‘I love you with so much of my heart that there’s none left to swear.’

Benedick took her in his arms and held her. Then he stepped back. ‘Come, command me to do anything for you.’

‘Kill Claudio.’

His expression changed. ‘Ha! Not for the wide world.’

‘You’re killing me by saying no. Goodbye.’ She turned and began walking away.

‘Wait, sweet Beatrice,’ he said.

‘I’ve gone, even though I’m standing here. There’s no love in you.’

He took hold of her again and she struggled in his arms. ‘No, let me go,’ she said.

‘Beatrice…’

‘I mean it. I’m going.’

‘We’ll make up first,’ he said.

Her eyes flashed. ‘You dare to be friends with me more easily than fight with my enemy!’ she said.

‘Is Claudio your enemy?’

‘Hasn’t he proved himself to be a full–blown villain, slandering, humiliating, dishonouring my cousin? Oh, I wish I were a man! What? Hold hands with her until they come to join hands and then, in public, bare–faced slander, merciless cruelty… Oh God, I wish I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market place!’

‘Listen to me, Beatrice…’

‘Talk to a man out of a window! What a thing to say!’

‘Yes, but Beatrice…’

‘Dear Hero! She’s wronged, she’s slandered, she’s destroyed.’

‘Bea…’

‘Princes and counts!’ She sneered. ‘Certainly a princely testimony. A goodly count that. Count Sugar Plum: a lovely gentleman! Oh, if only I were a man! Or that I had a friend who would be a man for me! But manhood has melted into ceremony, bravery into sucking up: and men are now only voices, and glib ones too. A man who can do no more than tell a lie and swear it is now as brave as Hercules. I can’t be a man by wishing, so I’ll die a woman by grieving.’

‘Wait, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love you.’

‘Use it for loving me in some more useful way than swearing by it,’ she said.

‘Do you really think, in your heart, that Count Claudio has wronged Hero?’

‘Yes, as surely as I have a thought or a heart.’

‘That’s enough for me,’ said Benedick. ‘I’m pledged. I’ll challenge him.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘I will kiss your hand and leave you. By this hand, Claudio will answer to me. Watch me. Go and comfort your cousin. I’ll tell them she’s dead. And so, farewell.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 4, Scene 2

The Sexton entered the courtroom, followed by Dogberry and Verges, all wearing gowns. He sat down at the magistrate’s bench and opened his book. The watch brought Conrade and Borachio in.

‘Is our whole dissembly appeared?’ said Dogberry.

‘Which are the malefactors?’ said the sexton.

‘Marry, that am I, and my partner,’ said Dogberry.

‘Nay, that’s certain,’ said Verges. ‘We have the exhibition to examine.’

‘But who are the offenders that have to be examined?’ said the sexton. ‘Bring them before the master constable.’

Two watchmen pushed Conrade and Borachio forward.

‘Yea, marry, let them come before me,’ said Dogberry. ‘What is your name, friend?’

‘Borachio.’

Dogberry turned to the sexton. ‘Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?’

‘I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.’

‘Write down, master gentleman Conrade.’ Dogberry squinted at the two defendants. ‘Masters, do you serve God?’

Borachio and Conrade nodded. ‘Yes, sir, we hope,’ said Borachio.


Dogberry raised his hand, ‘Write down, that they hope they serve God: and write God first: for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves: and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves?’

‘Indeed, sir,’ said Conrade,’ we’re not false knaves.’

Dogberry shook his head and gave the sexton an apologetic look. ‘A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you: but I will go about with him.’ He marched up to Borachio, gripped his ear and pulled his head towards him. ‘Come you hither, sirrah: a word in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.’

Borachio wrenched himself free. ‘Sir, I say to you that we are not.’

‘Well, stand aside. ‘Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down, that they are none?’

The sexton put his quill down. ‘Master constable, you’re not examining them in the right way. You must call the watch, who are their accusers.’

‘Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way. Let the watch come forth.’ Two of the watchmen stepped forward.

‘Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s name, accuse these men.’

‘This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince’s brother, was a villain,’ one of the watchmen said.

Dogberry’s eyes opened wide. ‘Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain.’

‘Master constable…’ began Borachio.

Dogberry took a threatening step towards him. ‘Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I promise thee.’

‘What else did you hear him say?’ said the sexton.

‘Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.’

‘Flat burglary as ever was committed,’ said Dogberry.

‘Yea, by mass, that it is,’ said Verges.

‘What else, fellow?’ said the sexton.

‘And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly and not marry her.’


The master constable showed his shock with a sharp intake of breath. ‘O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.’

‘What else?’ said the sexton.

‘This is all,’ said the watchman.

The sexton leant forward and looked at them with a severe expression. ‘And you can’t deny this, masters,’ he said. ‘Prince John stole away secretly this morning: Hero was accused and rejected in just this way and, as a result, died suddenly. Master constable, bind these men and bring them to Leonato’s. I’ll go ahead and show him their examination.’

When he had gone Dogberry nodded to a watchman who carried a rope. ‘Come, let them be opinioned.’

Verges offered advice to the watchman as he began binding Conrade’s hands. ‘Let them be in the hands…’ he began. Conrade pushed the watchman away.

‘Off coxcomb! He roared.

‘God’s my life, where’s the sexton?’ said Dogberry. ‘Let him write down the prince’s officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.’ He shook his finger at Conrade. ‘Thou naughty varlet!’

‘Get away!’ said Conrade. ‘You are an ass.’ He put his hands up to his ears and waggled them at Dogberry.

‘You are an ass.’

‘Dost thou not suspect my place?’ said Dogberry. ‘Dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an ass: though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer, and, which is more, a householder, and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to: and a rich fellow enough, go to: and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every thing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that I had been writ down an ass!’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 5, Scene 1

Leonato’s devoted brother leant over him as he sat slumped in a chair at the table that they had set out in the shade in preparation for the celebrations.

‘If you go on like this you’ll kill yourself,’ said Antonio. ‘And it’s unwise to pile grief on yourself.’

‘Please, stop giving me advice,’ said Leonato. ‘It’s water off a duck’s back. Don’t keep giving me advice! And I don’t want any comfort unless it’s from someone who’s been through the same thing. Bring me a father who loved his child as much, whose joy in her is as overwhelming as mine, and tell him to talk about patience. Compare his sorrow with mine and if it fits every instance, and if he doesn’t then smile and stroke his beard, tell me it’s not so bad, say ‘ahem’ instead of groan, utter platitudes, try to drown sorrow with philosophy, then bring him to me and I will get some solace from him. But there is no such man, because, brother, it’s easy to give advice and offer comfort to grief that you don’t feel yourself but if you had known it your advice would turn to rage. If a man hasn’t experienced it he will try and calm another’s rage, tie strong passion up in silk threads, try to soothe pain with words. No, it’s every man’s business to tell those who writhe in pain to be patient. Until he’s felt that pain himself. So, don’t give me advice. My griefs cry louder than advice.’

‘You’re being childish,’ said Antonio.

‘I beg of you, be quiet!’ said Leonato. ‘I’m only flesh and blood: there has never yet been a philosopher who could bear the toothache with patience, however much they may have written in the style of gods and discovered life’s great secrets.’

Antonio nodded in sympathy. ‘But still, don’t be the main sufferer. Make those who have offended you suffer too.’

Leonato looked up at his brother. ‘Now you’re talking sense. Don’t worry, I’m going to. I know in my heart that Hero’s been defamed, and Claudio will know that, and so will the prince, and everyone who’s been involved.’


‘Here come the prince and Claudio in a hurry,’ said Antonio as the two men approached them, dressed for travelling.

‘Good afternoon, good afternoon,’ said Don Pedro, to each brother in turn.

‘Good afternoon to you both,’ said Claudio.

Leonato stood up shakily, drew himself up, and faced them squarely. ‘Now listen here, my lords….’ he began.

Don Pedro interrupted him. ‘We’re in a hurry, Leonato.’

Antonio put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

‘In a hurry, my lord!’ exclaimed Leonato. ‘You’re in a hurry suddenly?’ His brother gripped his shoulder. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ he said.

‘No, don’t quarrel with us, good old man,’ said the prince.

‘If he could put things right by quarrelling some of us would lie low,’ said Antonio.

‘Who has wronged him?’ said Claudio.

Leonato’s face was a picture of fury. He took a step towards Claudio. ‘You!’ he exclaimed. ‘You wrong me, you hypocrite, you….. What! Don’t touch your sword. I’m not afraid of you.’

Claudio raised his hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Really, I didn’t mean to give the impression that I was about to draw my sword.’

‘Tush, tush, man, don’t patronise me: don’t toy with me. I’m not past it and I’m not a fool. I’m not bragging, as an old man, about the things I did in my youth, or what I would do if I weren’t old. Understand this, Claudio, and understand it well: you have wronged both my innocent child and me so much that I’m forced to put my age aside, and in spite of my grey hairs and the infirmity of a long life, challenge you to a duel. You have slandered my innocent child. It’s killed her and she’s lying buried with her ancestors: oh, in a tomb free of scandal except for this, fashioned by your villainy!’

‘My villainy?’

‘Yours, Claudio, yours, I tell you.’

‘You’re wrong, old man,’ said Don Pedro.


Leonato’s eyes were full of tears. ‘My lord, my lord,’ he said, ‘I’ll prove it in a duel, if he dares. In spite of his skill in fencing and his fitness, his spring–like youth and peak of strength.’

‘Never!’ said Claudio. ‘I won’t do it.’

‘Do you think you can brush me aside just like that? You’ve killed my child. If you kill me, boy, you’ll be killing a man.’

Antonio had watched the young man’s apparent callousness and lack of concern about what he had done and suddenly he was as incensed as his brother. ‘He’ll kill two of us,’ he said, ‘and two real men too. But that’s beside the point. Let him kill us one by one.’ He drew himself up and faced Claudio. ‘Kill me first and you can boast. Let him accept my challenge. Come, follow me, boy, come on, sir boy, come, follow me. Sir boy, I’ll whip you in spite of your fancy fencing. Yes, as I am a gentleman, I will.’

It was Leonato’s turn to be a calming influence. ‘Brother…’

‘Stay out of it,’ said Antonio. ‘God knows, I loved my niece: and she is dead, slandered to death by villains who dare face a man as much as I dare grab a snake by the tongue. Boys, fools, braggards, knaves, milksops!’ Don Pedro and Claudio watched the anger of these two elderly brothers with amazement. ‘Brother Antony…’ said Leonato.

‘Stay out of it! What man!’ he continued. ‘I know them: oh yes. And what they’re worth. Completely. Scuffling, show–off, fashion–chasing boys who lie and cheat, deprave and slander, go about grotesquely, dress hideously, and utter a few bold words about how they might hurt their enemies if they dared, and that’s all they are!’

‘But brother Antony…’

‘Come, it doesn’t matter,’ said Antonio. ‘Don’t interfere! Let me deal with this.’

Gentlemen both,’ said Don Pedro. ‘We don’t want to try your patience. I’m heartily sorry about your daughter’s death. But really, she was accused of nothing other than was true and fully proved.’

‘My lord, my lord…’ protested Leonato.

‘I’m not going to listen,’ said Don Pedro.

‘You aren’t?’ said Leonato. ‘Come, brother, let’s go.’


The brothers set off for the villa. Leonato called over his shoulder. ‘I will be heard!’

‘And some of us will suffer,’ said Antonio.

Don Pedro and Claudio had little time to think about the encounter because the man they had been looking for was walking towards them.

‘Look,’ said the prince, ‘here’s the man we were looking for.’

‘Now, signior, what news?’ said Claudio as Benedick approached.

‘Good day, my lord,’ said Benedick.

Don Pedro laughed. ‘Welcome, signior,’ he said. ‘You’ve arrived just too late to intervene in what was almost a fight.’

‘We almost had our noses bitten off by two old men without teeth,’ said Claudio.

Don Pedro shook his head in disbelief. ‘Leonato and his brother. What do you think? If we had fought I have a feeling we would have proved too young for them.’

‘There’s no real triumph in a false quarrel,’ said Benedick. ‘I came to find you both.’

‘We’ve been looking all over for you,’ said Claudio, ‘because we’re very down and need some cheering up. Will you show us your sense of humour?’

‘It’s in my scabbard,’ said Benedick. ‘Do you want me to draw it?’

They both laughed appreciatively, while Benedick maintained a strained, unsmiling expression.

‘Do you wear your sense of humour at your side?’ said Don Pedro.

‘No–one ever did,’ said Claudio, ‘though many have worn themselves beside their sense of humour. I’ll ask you to draw, as we ask minstrels to draw their instruments for our entertainment.’

‘I could swear he looks pale,’ said Don Pedro. ‘Are you sick? Or angry about something?’

‘What?’ said Claudio. ‘Cheer up, man! Care may have killed the cat but you have substance enough in you to kill care.’

‘Sir, I’ll meet you in the lists if you want to take me on,’ said Benedick. ‘You had better change the subject.’


‘No then, give him another lance: this one has snapped,’ said Claudio.

Benedick was struggling to control himself.

‘He’s changing more and more,’ said Don Pedro. ‘I think he really is angry.’

‘Well if he is, he’ll just have to contain himself,’ said Claudio.

‘Can I have a private word?’ said Benedick.

‘God save me from a challenge,’ said Claudio, laughing. He winked at the prince then followed Benedick, who stopped when they were out of earshot of the prince.

Benedick faced the count with a grim face. ‘You are a villain,’ he said. When Claudio started laughing he put his hand up. ‘No, I’m not joking. I’ll show you, whenever you dare, with whatever you dare, and when you dare. Take me seriously or I will proclaim you a coward. You have killed a sweet lady, and you will be held responsible. Let me hear from you.’

As they walked back to Don Pedro Claudio laughed and slapped Benedick on the back. ‘Well, I’ll meet you, so that I can have some entertainment.’

‘What?’ said Don Pedro. ‘A party, a party?’

‘Indeed,’ said Claudio, ‘I thank him. He’s invited me to eat all the most stupid and harmless animals — calves and capons — which, if I don’t carve them most carefully they will tell me that my knife’s useless.’ He grinned at Benedick. ‘Will I find the simpleton woodcock there too?’

‘Very funny,’ said Benedick.

‘Let me tell you how Beatrice praised your intelligence the other day,’ said Don Pedro. I said you had a fine intelligence. ‘True,’ she said, ‘a fine small one.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘a great intelligence.’ Right,’ she says, ‘a great gross one.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘a good wit.’ ‘True,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t hurt anyone.’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘the gentleman is clever.’ ‘Certainly,’ she said, ‘a clever gentleman.’ ‘Yes,’ I said, he speaks several tongues.’ ‘I believe that,’ she said, ‘because he swore something to me on Monday night that he unswore on Tuesday morning: there’s a double tongue — there’s two tongues.’ And so she carried on for an hour, subverting your special qualities, but then, finally, she ended with a sigh, saying that you were the most handsome man in Italy.’

‘After which she wept heartily and said she didn’t care,’ said Claudio.


‘Yes, she did, but for all that, if she didn’t hate him so much she would love him,’ said Don Pedro. ‘The old man’s daughter told us everything.’

‘Everything, everything,’ said Claudio. ‘She was found out, like Adam, trying to hide from God in the garden,.’

‘So when are we going to put the wild bull’s horns on the prudent Benedick’s head?’ said Don Pedro.

‘Yes,’ said Claudio, ‘and a text underneath, Here lives Benedick the married man?’

‘Farewell, boy,’ said Benedick. ‘You know my mind. I’ll leave you now to your old women’s humour. You use jokes in the way that braggarts use their swords, which don’t hurt anyone, thank god.’ He half bowed to Don Pedro. ‘My lord, I thank you for your many kindnesses to me. I must break off my friendship with you. Your brother has fled from Messina. Among you you have killed a sweet and innocent lady. As for my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I will meet in a duel. Until then, good luck to him.’ He came to attention, saluted, turned sharply and marched away.

‘He’s serious,’ said Don Pedro.

‘Deadly serious,’ said Claudio, ‘ and I’ll bet it’s because of Beatrice.’

‘And he’s challenged you.’

‘Most seriously,’ said Claudio.

‘What a fine thing a man is when he gets dressed in his duelling clothes and forgets to put on his intelligence!’ exclaimed Don Pedro.

‘That’s when he’s a hero to a fool,’ said Claudio, ‘but a fool is wise man compared with someone like that.’

‘But wait,’ said Don Pedro, ‘give me a moment. I must pull myself together and be serious. Didn’t he say my brother had fled?’

A servant came into sight, leading a very odd group of people. At its head was Dogberry, closely followed by Verges. Then came the whole of the watch, two of them leading Conrade and Borachio, bound by ropes. Dogberry stopped when he saw the two noblemen. He turned and took the rope that bound Borachio and pulled him forward.

‘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.’

‘What’s this?’ said Don Pedro. ‘Two of my brother’s men bound! Borachio one of them!’

‘Ask them what they’ve done, my lord,’ said Claudio.

‘What have these men done, officers?’ said Don Pedro.

‘Marry, sir,’ said Dogberry, ‘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.’

In spite of the apparent seriousness of it, Don Pedro and Claudio looked at each other and burst into laughter.

‘First, I ask you what they have done,’ said Don Pedro: ‘thirdly, I ask you what their offence is: sixth and lastly, why they are convicted: and, to conclude, what they are accused of.’

Claudio applauded. ‘Perfectly argued,’ he said,’ and in his own language, and I must say, nicely put.’

‘Who have you offended, masters,’ said Don Pedro, taking the rope from Dogberry and dropping it to the ground, ‘that you’ve got yourselves tied up? This learned constable is too subtle to be understood. What have you done?’

Borachio looked nervously at Claudio and licked his lips. ‘Sweet prince, I won’t hold anything back,’ he said. ‘Listen to me and let this count kill me. I have deceived your very eyes. What your joint intelligence couldn’t fathom, these ignorant idiots have brought to light. They heard me confessing in the dark to this man how your brother, Don John, employed me to slander the Lady Hero: how you were brought into the orchard to see me court Margaret, dressed in Hero’s clothes, and how you disgraced her instead of marrying her. They have it on record, and I am so ashamed that I would rather die than go over it again. The lady is dead because of my and my master’s accusation, and, to cut a long story short, I want only to accept my punishment.’

‘Isn’t this speech like a sword through your body?’ said Don Pedro as Claudio seemed to shrivel up.

‘It was like drinking poison,’ said the pale Claudio as he reached for a chair.

Don Pedro turned back to Borachio. ‘But did my brother put you up to this?’

‘Yes, and paid me well for doing it.’

‘He’s rotten through and through,’ said Don Pedro, ‘and he’s fled because of it.’

Claudio’s forehead rested on the table. ‘Sweet Hero,’ he moaned, ‘your image has come back to my mind as the beautiful creature that I fell in love with.’

‘Come, bring away the plaintiffs,’ said Dogberry. ‘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.’

‘Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too,’ said Verges.

Leonato, his brother supporting him, walked slowly to them and stopped. He surveyed the watch and their charges. ‘Which one is the villain? Let me look into his eyes so that when I ever see another man like him I can avoid him. Which one is he?’

‘If you want to know who your wronger is, look at me,’ said Borachio.

‘Are you the slave who killed my innocent child?’

‘Yes, only me.’

‘No, not so, rogue,’ said Leonato, ‘you’re lying. Standing here are a pair of honourable men. A third, who also had a hand in it, has fled.’

Claudio rose unsteadily and stood beside Don Pedro.

‘I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death,’ said Leonato. ‘Regard it as one of your high and worthy actions. It was bravely done, when you think about it.’

‘I don’t expect you to listen to me,’ said Claudio, his voice full of humility, ‘but I must speak out. Choose whatever revenge you think suitable. Subject me to whatever penance your imagination can devise for my sin. And yet I didn’t sin except in being deceived.’

‘On my soul, nor I,’ said Don Pedro. ‘And yet, to satisfy this good old man I will do anything he tells me.’

‘I can’t tell you to bring my daughter back to life,’ said Leonato. ‘That would be impossible. But I would ask you to make it known to the people of Messina that she died innocently. And if you want to show your remorse, place an epitaph on her tomb and pay homage to her body. Do it tonight. Then come to my house tomorrow morning, and although you couldn’t be my son–in–law, be my nephew. My brother has a daughter, almost a copy of my dead child, and she’s the sole heir of both of us. If you give her the right you should have given her cousin my revenge will die.’

Claudio rushed to him, took his hand and kissed it. ‘Oh noble sir,’ he said, your great generosity brings tears to my eyes. I embrace your offer and will do as you say.’

‘I’ll expect you tomorrow, then,’ said Leonato. ‘And now I’ll go. This worthless man will be brought face to face with Margaret who, I believe, was part of it, hired to do it by your brother.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Borachio. ‘I swear she wasn’t. Nor did she know what she was doing when she spoke to me. She’s always been honest and virtuous as far as I know.’

‘Moreover, sir,’ said Dogberry, ‘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 be 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.’

Leonato shook his hand. ‘I thank you for the care you took and your honest pains.’

‘Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth: and I praise God for you.’

Leonato took a purse from his pocket and handed it to Dogberry. ‘This is for your trouble,’ he said.

‘God save the foundation!’ exclaimed Dogberry as he pocketed it.

‘Go,’ said Leonato. ‘I relieve you of responsibility for 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,’ said Dogberry. ‘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!’ He nodded to his friend. ‘Come, neighbour.’

‘Until tomorrow morning, lords,’ said Leonato. ‘Farewell.’

‘Farewell, my lords,’ said Antonio. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘We’ll be here,’ said Don Pedro.

‘I’ll mourn Hero tonight,’ said Claudio.

Leonato spoke to the watch. ‘Bring these fellows. We’ll talk to Margaret and see how her acquaintance with this lewd fellow developed.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 5, Scene 2

Benedict stopped Margaret in the garden. ‘Do me a favour, sweet Mistress Margaret,’ he said. ‘Get Beatrice for me.’

‘Will you pay me with a sonnet in praise of my beauty?’ she said.

‘In such a high style that no man alive will be able to rise to it because, quite honestly, you deserve it.’

She laughed. ‘I deserve to have no man rise to me?’ she said. ‘Am I always going to be kept below stairs, never to be a mistress?’

‘Your mind is as quick as a greyhound’s mouth,’ he said, ‘it connects with mine.’

‘And yours is as blunt as a fencer’s foil, that hits and doesn’t hurt.’

‘A very masculine mind, Margaret: it won’t hurt a woman.’

She pretended to lower her eyes and looked at him through her eyelashes in mock modesty.

‘Go on, call Beatrice,’ he laughed. ‘I give up and surrender my bucklers.’

‘You provide the swords: we have our own bucklers.’ She looked at him, challenging him to match that.

His answer came in a flash: ‘If you want to use them, Margaret, you must screw the spikes in, and that’s a dangerous job for a virgin.’

When she had stopped laughing she wiped her wet cheeks with backs of her hands. ‘Well, I’ll call Beatrice,’ she said. ‘I think she’s got legs.’

‘And therefore will come,’ he said.

She ran off laughing.


Benedick sat down on a bench. He would write a love poem to Beatrice. The god of love… He made up a melody for his first line and hummed it. That sits above… He tried to develop the tune. And knows me… Hmmm. And knows me… How pitiful I deserve… He laughed to himself and gave up. How pitiful he deserved in singing, he meant. As for loving, well… Leander, who swam the Hellispont for love, Troilus, who used a go–between, and all the other famous lovers who fill the pages of poetry, were never as smitten by love as he had been. No, he couldn’t express it in verse. He had tried, but he couldn’t find a word that rhymed with ‘lady’, except ‘baby’, which was a silly rhyme. For ‘scorn’, ‘horn’. He laughed. That was a hard rhyme! For ‘school’, ‘fool’: that was a nonsense rhyme. Very bad rhyming. No, he wasn’t born under a rhyming star. He couldn’t woo with poetry.

He got up and went to meet Beatrice as she came, walking fast, up the path. He took her hands. ‘Sweet Beatrice, did you want to come when I called you?’

‘Yes signior,’ she said, ‘and go when you tell me to.’

‘Oh, stay till then!’ he exclaimed.

‘You said “then”, so goodbye, but before I go tell me what I came to find out, which is what happened between you and Claudio.’

He pulled her close. ‘Only foul words, and on that note I’ll kiss you.’

‘Foul words are only foul breath, and foul wind is only foul breath, and foul breath is noisy, so I’ll depart unkissed.’

‘You’ve subverted the meaning of the word: your brain’s too sharp for me,’ he said. ‘But I must tell you bluntly: Claudio has accepted my challenge and so I must either hear from him soon or I’ll have to denounce him as a coward. And now, tell me, for which of my bad qualities did you first fall in love with me?’

‘All of them together,’ she said. ‘They maintained such a well organised state of evil that they wouldn’t allow any good quality to intermingle with them. But for which of my good qualities did you first suffer love for me?’

‘Suffer love! That’s a good description! I do indeed suffer love because I love you against my will.’

‘In spite of your heart, I think. Your poor heart, being spited for my sake. I will spite it for your sake because I’ll never love anything that my friend hates.’

‘You and I are too clever to woo peacefully,’ he said.

‘It doesn’t seem so,’ she said. ‘It’s not very clever to praise oneself.’

Benedick nodded. ‘An old saying, Beatrice, that he who praises himself has bad neighbours: but in these times, if a man doesn’t build his own tomb before he dies he’ll be forgotten before the bell stops ringing and the widow stops weeping.’

‘And how long would you say that is?’ she said.


‘As you’re asking I’ll answer. About an hour for the bells and a quarter of an hour’s tears. So, as long as a man’s conscience is clear, it’s better for him to trumpet his own virtues, as I’m doing. But enough of praising myself, who, I have to say, is most praiseworthy. So tell me now, how is your cousin?’

‘Very upset.’

‘And you?’

‘Very upset too.’

He drew her close. ‘Serve God, love me and be comforted. And that’s where I’ll leave it, because here’s someone with an urgent message.’

Ursula was out of breath. ‘Madam, you must come to your uncle. It’s all confusion in the house. It’s been proved that my Lady Hero’s been falsely accused and the prince and Claudio have been deceived. Don John’s the culprit and he’s fled. Will you come right now?’

‘Do you want to come with me to hear this news, signior?’ she said.

‘I want to live in your heart, die in your lap and be buried in your eyes,’ he said. ‘And moreover, I’ll go with you to your uncle.’

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 5, Scene 3

Don Pedro Claudio, some of their officers, members of Leonato’s household, and a musician, approached the mausoleum with torches. ‘Is this Leonato’s tomb?’ said Claudio.

‘It is, my lord,’ one of Leonato’s servants said.

Claudio was carrying a wreath and he went forward and lay it at the entrance. Then he stepped back and took a scroll from one of the officers, unrolled it, and read it.
‘Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero who here lies:
Death, in payment of her wrongs.
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life that died with shame
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Lie you there upon the tomb.
Praising her when I am dumb.
Now music play and sing your solemn hymn.’



The musician strummed a short introduction on his lute then sang, while the others stood at solemn attention.
‘Pardon, goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight:
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan:
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily:
Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
Till death be uttered,
Heavily, heavily.’


He finished and Claudio made his concluding statement: ‘Now, good night to your remains. I’ll perform this rite every year.’

‘Good night, gentlemen,’ said Don Pedro. ‘Put your torches out. The wolves have gone to sleep, and look, daylight is beginning to dapple the eastern sky with grey spots. Thanks to all of you and leave us now. Farewell.’

‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ said Claudio, ‘and all on your separate ways.’

‘Come, let’s go and change and go to Leonato’s,’ said Don Pedro.

‘And may the god of love give us a better outcome this time,’ said Claudio.

Modern Much Ado About Nothing: Act 5, Scene 4

What a joyful sight it was! An alter had been erected on the lawn, bunting was strung between the trees, and musicians were playing the lively music that they had brought from Florence. Leonato was his old self again, busily organising the servants, who were covering the tables with food and drink. Benedick wore a brightly–coloured new suit, and was proudly holding the hand of a happy–looking Beatrice. Ursula and a subdued Margaret stood together, talking earnestly. Hero was still pale. She sat on a chair, waiting. Antonio escorted Friar Frances across the lawn. The friar shook hands with Leonato and smiled broadly.

‘Didn’t I tell you she was innocent?’ he said.

‘So are her accusers, the prince and Claudio. It was all a mistake. Margaret bears some responsibility for this, although unknowingly, as it’s emerged from my enquiry.’

‘Well I’m glad it’s all turned out so well,’ said Antonio.

‘So am I,’ said Benedick, ‘otherwise I would be honour bound to call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.’

Leonato rubbed his hands. ‘Well, daughter,’ he said, ‘you and all the women, go to your room and wait until I send for you, then come back masked.’ The women set off and Leonato turned to his brother. ‘The prince and Claudio will be here at any moment. You know what you have to do, brother. You have to be the father of the bride and give her to young Claudio.’

‘Which I’ll gladly do,’ said Antonio.

Benedick touched the friar on his shoulder. ‘Friar, I must ask you to do something,’ he said.

‘What, signior?’

‘To tie me up or destroy me, one of the two. Signior Leonato, it’s a fact that your niece likes me.’


Leonato laughed. ‘With the help of my daughter. That’s true,’ said Leonato.

‘And I like her.’

‘And I think that was with my help, and the help of Claudio and the prince,’ said Leonato. ‘But what do you want?’

‘Your answer is enigmatic,’ said Benedick. ‘But what I want is that what you want will coincide with what we want: to be married today, and that’s what I want your help with, good friar.’

‘I give my blessing to that,’ said Leonato.

‘And I’ll help you,’ said the friar. ‘Here come the prince and Claudio.’

The two were accompanied by some of their officers. Behind them came several of the young friends of Hero and Beatrice.

‘Good morning prince: good morning, Claudio,’ said Leonato. ‘We’ve been waiting for you. Are you still resolved to marry my brother’s daughter today?’

‘Resolved,’ said Claudio, ‘no matter what she looks like.’

‘Go and get her, brother,’ said Leonato. ‘The friar’s waiting.’

‘Good morning, Benedick,’ said Don Pero. ‘Why, what’s the matter? Such a February face, so cold and stormy.’

‘I think he’s contemplating the wild bull,’ said Claudio. ‘But don’t worry, man: you’ll make a great cuckold.’

‘Oh will I? Some strange bull jumped on your father’s cow and conceived a calf that was very like you because you have that same bleat.’

‘I owe you for that,’ said Claudio. ‘But not now because look who’s coming.’

The women accompanying Antonio were all masked. ‘Which one is the lady I’m going to marry?’ said Claudio.

‘This one,’ said Antonio, ‘and I give her to you.’

‘Why then, she’s mine,’ said Claudio. ‘Sweet, let me see your face.’


‘No you won’t,’ said Leonato. ‘Not till you take her hand before this friar and swear to marry her.’

Claudio reached out and she placed her hand in his. ‘Before this holy friar, I’m your husband if you like me,’ he said.

‘And when I was alive I was your other bride,’ she said, and took off the mask. ‘and when you loved you were my other bridegroom.’

‘Exactly like Hero!’ exclaimed Claudio.

‘Nothing more certain,’ she said. ‘I died defiled, but I am alive, and as sure as I am alive I’m a virgin.’

‘It’s her!’ said Don Pedro. ‘Hero who’s dead!’

‘She was dead, my lord, only as long as her slanders were alive,’ said Leonato.

Claudio and Don Pedro couldn’t speak. The guests had gathered round and stood, similarly bewildered. Friar Francis laughed. ‘I can explain all this,’ he said, ‘and after the holy rites have ended I will. In the meantime just accept it and let’s go to the altar straight away.’

‘Wait a moment, friar,’ said Benedick. He looked the masked women up and down. ‘Which one is Beatrice?’ he said.

Beatrice stepped forward and removed her mask. ‘I answer to that name,’ she said. ‘What would you like?’

‘Do you love me?’ he said.

‘Well no, no more than is reasonable.’

‘Then your uncle and the prince and Claudio were deceived. They swore you did.’

‘Do you love me?’ said Beatrice.

‘Not at all. No more than is reasonable.’

‘Well then, my cousin, Margaret and Ursula are very much deceived because they swore you did.’

‘They swore that you were dying for love of me,’ said Benedick.

‘They swore that you were nearly dead for me,’ she said.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘So you don’t love me?’


‘Not really: only as a friend.’

Their friends had gathered around them, amused.

‘Come on cousin,’ said Leonato. ‘I’m sure you love the gentleman.’

‘And I will swear that he loves her,’ said Claudio. He waved a sheet of paper. ‘Because here’s a page in his handwriting: a limping sonnet out of his own head, written for Beatrice.’

Hero also had a sheet, which she also waved. ‘And here’s another one, stolen from my cousin’s pocket, expressing her love for Benedick.’

‘A miracle!’ said Benedick. ‘Our hands contradicting our hearts. Come then, I’ll have you, but I’m telling you, I’m only doing it out of pity.’

‘I won’t deny you,’ she said, ‘but I assure you, I’m only giving in to the pressure, and partly to save your life, because they tell me you have consumption.’

‘Quiet!’ commanded Benedick. He took hold of her. ‘I’ll stop your mouth.’ He kissed her and she submitted willingly.

Their friends applauded.

‘How are you, Benedick, the married man?’ said the prince.

‘I’ll tell you something, Prince,’ said Benedick. ‘A whole college of wisecrackers couldn’t change my mood. Do you think I care a jot for your sarcasm and clever jibes? No, a man who lives in fear of ridicule will never wear fine clothes. In short, since I have decided to marry I will take no notice of anything against it. So don’t goad me with the things I’ve said about it. Human beings are irrational creatures and that’s that. As for you, Claudio, I was thinking about thrashing you but as you’re going to be my relative, go unbruised and love my cousin.’

Claudio laughed. ‘I had rather hoped you would reject Beatrice so that I could have beaten you into marrying her, to turn you into an unfaithful husband, which I have no doubt you will be if my cousin doesn’t keep a sharp eye on you.’

Benedick put his hand out to Claudio. ‘Come, come, we are friends,’ he said. ‘Lets dance before we get married so that we can lighten our hearts and our wives’ heels.’


‘We’ll have dancing afterwards,’ said Leonato.

‘First!’ said Benedick. ‘Strike up musicians.’

As the musicians began to play and the young men took their partners, Benedick noticed Don Pedro, standing on his own. ‘Prince, you’re sad,’ he said. ‘Get yourself a wife, get a wife. There’s no walking stick more suitable than one with the potential for cuckoldry!’

A messenger interrupted them. ‘My lord,’ he told Don Pedro, ‘your brother has been captured and brought back to Messina under guard.’

‘Forget about him until tomorrow,’ said Benedick. ‘I’ll think of some dire punishment for him. Strike up pipers!’