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Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Didn’t I tell you she was innocent?
So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her Upon the error that you heard debated: But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question.
So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her Based on the mistake you heard discussed: But Margaret was partly at fault for this, Even though it wasn’t her choice, as it seems In the full context of everything that happened.
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
Well, I’m glad everything turned out this way.
And so am I, being else by faith enforced To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
Me too, or else I’d be forced by my honor To hold young Claudio accountable for this.
Well, daughter, and you gentle-women all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask’d.
Well, daughter, and all you ladies, Go into a room by yourselves, And when I call for you, come here disguised.
The prince and Claudio promised by this hour To visit me. You know your office, brother: You must be father to your brother’s daughter And give her to young Claudio.
The prince and Claudio promised by now To visit me. You know what to do, brother: You must act as father to your brother’s daughter And give her to young Claudio.
Which I will do with confirm’d countenance.
I will do that with a confident face.
Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.
Friar, I think I must ask for your help.
To do what, signior?
To do what, sir?
To bind me, or undo me; one of them. Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.
To either marry me, or set me free; one of those. Sir Leonato, it’s true, good sir, Your niece looks at me with favor.
That eye my daughter lent her: ’tis most true.
That look was my daughter’s: it’s absolutely true.
And I do with an eye of love requite her.
And I return her look with love in my eyes.
The sight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio and the prince: but what’s your will?
I think you saw what happened, from me, From Claudio and the prince: but what do you want?
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: But, for my will, my will is your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d In the state of honourable marriage: In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Your answer, sir, is mysterious: But as for my wishes, I hope my good wishes Are in line with yours, to be joined today In a respectable marriage: In which, good friar, I’ll need your help.
My heart is with your liking.
I support your decision.
And my help. Here comes the prince and Claudio.
And I’ll help too. Here come the prince and Claudio.
Good morrow to this fair assembly.
Good morning to this lovely gathering.
Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio: We here attend you. Are you yet determined To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter?
Good morning, prince; good morning, Claudio: We’re waiting for you. Have you decided To marry my brother’s daughter today?
I’ll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
I’ll stick with my decision, even if she were an Ethiopian.
Call her forth, brother; here’s the friar ready.
Call her out, brother; the friar is ready.
Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?
Good morning, Benedick. Why do you look so grim, With such a cold, stormy expression?
I think he thinks upon the savage bull. Tush, fear not, man; we’ll tip thy horns with gold And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love.
I think he’s thinking about the wild bull. Don’t worry, man; we’ll decorate your horns with gold And all of Europe will celebrate you, Just like Europa did with mighty Jove, When he played the noble beast in love.
Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; And some such strange bull leap’d your father’s cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
Bull Jove, sir, had a nice lowing; And some such strange bull must have mounted your father’s cow, And fathered a calf in that same noble act, Very much like you, since you have just his bleat.
For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.
For this, I owe you something: here comes more to settle.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
Which lady must I claim as mine?
This same is she, and I do give you her.
This is her, and I’m giving her to you.
Why, then she’s mine. Sweet, let me see your face.
Well, then she’s mine. Sweet, let me see your face.
No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar and swear to marry her.
No, you won’t see it, until you take her hand In front of this friar and promise to marry her.
Give me your hand: before this holy friar, I am your husband, if you like of me.
Give me your hand: in front of this holy friar, I’m your husband, if you want me.
And when I lived, I was your other wife:
And when I was alive, I was your other wife:
And when you loved, you were my other husband.
And when you loved me, you were my other husband.
Another Hero!
Another Hero!
Nothing certainer: One Hero died defiled, but I do live, And surely as I live, I am a maid.
Nothing more certain: One Hero died in shame, but I’m still alive, And as sure as I’m alive, I’m still a virgin.
The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
The old Hero! Hero who’s dead!
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.
She died, my lord, but while her shame lived on.
All this amazement can I qualify: When after that the holy rites are ended, I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death: Meantime let wonder seem familiar, And to the chapel let us presently.
I can explain all of this: When the holy ceremony is finished, I’ll tell you everything about Hero’s death: For now, let the surprise seem normal, And let’s go to the chapel right away.
Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Hold on, friar. Which one is Beatrice?
[Unmasking] I answer to that name. What is your will?
[Unmasking] I’m Beatrice. What do you want?
Do not you love me?
Don’t you love me?
Why, no; no more than reason.
No, not really; not more than what’s reasonable.
Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio Have been deceived; they swore you did.
Well, then your uncle, the prince, and Claudio Have all been tricked; they swore you did.
Do not you love me?
Don’t you love me?
Troth, no; no more than reason.
Honestly, no; not more than I should.
Why, then my cousin Margaret and Ursula Are much deceived; for they did swear you did.
Well, then my cousin Margaret and Ursula Are badly mistaken; because they swore you did.
They swore that you were almost sick for me.
They swore you were almost dying for me.
They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.
They swore you were nearly dead for me.
’Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?
That’s not true. So, you don’t love me?
No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
No, honestly, but I do care for you as a friend.
Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
Come on, cousin, I’m sure you love the man.
And I’ll be sworn upon’t that he loves her; For here’s a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion’d to Beatrice.
And I swear he loves her; Here’s a letter in his handwriting, A clumsy sonnet he wrote himself, Written for Beatrice.
And here’s another Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick.
And here’s another Written in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket, Showing her feelings for Benedick.
A miracle! here’s our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.
Amazing! Here’s our own handwriting against our hearts. Alright, I’ll marry you, but, I swear, I’m doing it out of pity.
I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.
I wouldn’t refuse you; but, by this good day, I give in after much convincing; and partly to save your life, since I heard you were dying of illness.
Peace! I will stop your mouth.
Quiet! I’ll stop you talking.
How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?
How are you, Benedick, the married man?
I’ll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a’ shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin.
I’ll tell you something, prince; a group of clever people can’t make me change my mood. Do you think I care about a joke or a witty remark? No: if a man wants to be hit by smart remarks, he’ll wear nothing nice. In short, since I plan to marry, I won’t care about anything the world says against it; and so never mock me for what I’ve said against it; because men are unpredictable, and this is my conclusion. As for you, Claudio, I thought I would have hit you, but since you’re going to be my relative, you’ll stay unhurt and love my cousin.
I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceedingly narrowly to thee.
I had hoped you’d refuse Beatrice, so I could have beaten you out of your single life and made you a two-faced man; which, without a doubt, you will be if my cousin doesn’t keep a very close watch on you.
Come, come, we are friends: let’s have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives’ heels.
Come on, come on, we’re friends: let’s have a dance before we get married, so we can lift our own spirits and give our wives something to chase after.
We’ll have dancing afterward.
We’ll dance afterward.
First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.
First, listen to me; so play the music. Prince, you’re looking sad; get yourself a wife, get yourself a wife: there’s no staff more respected than one with a horn at the top.
My lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina.
My lord, your brother John has been captured while trying to escape, and brought back to Messina with armed men.
Think not on him till to-morrow: I’ll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers.
Don’t worry about him until tomorrow: I’ll come up with some great punishments for him. Start playing, pipers.