Much Ado About Nothing. II.iii. 47-94.

 

Balthasar. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;

Since many a wooer doth commence his suit

To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes,

Yet will he swear he loves.

Don Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come;

Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,

Do it in notes.

Balth. Note this before my notes;

There ’s not a note of mine that ’s worth the noting.

[He plays.]

D. Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks ;

Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing.

Benedick. Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it

not strange that sheeps’ guts should hale souls out of men’s

bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all ‘s done.

THE SONG.

Balth. 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 more

    Of dumps so dull and heavy.

The fraud of men was ever so

    Since summer first was leafy.

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

    And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into hey, nonny, nonny. &c.

D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song.

Balth. And an ill singer, my lord.

D. Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest well enough

for a shift.

Bene. An he had been a dog that should have howled

thus, they would have hanged him: and I pray God his

bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the

night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

D. Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray

thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we

would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber-window.

Balth. The best I can, my lord.

D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exit Balthasar.] Come

hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day, that

your ‘niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick?

Claudio. O, ay: stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. I did

never think that lady would have loved any man.

Leonato. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she

should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all

outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor.

Bene. Is’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think

of it but that she loves him with an enraged affection; it

is past the infinite of thought.

Much Ado About Nothing. Act II. Scene iii. 47-94.

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