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Dramatis Perfonæ.

DON PEDRO, Prince of Arragon.
Leonato, Governor of Messina.

Don John, Baftard Brother to Don Pedro.

Claudio, a young Lord of Florence, Favourite to Don Pedro,

Benedick, a young Lord of Padua, favour'd likewife by

Don Pedro.

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4 Friar, Meffenger, Watch, Town-Clerk, Sexton, and

Attendants.

SCENE, Melfina in Sicily.

MUCH

(1) MUCH ADO about NOTHING.

ACT

I.

SCENE, a Court before Leonato's Houfe.

Enter Leonato, Hero, and Beatrice, with a Messenger.

I

LEONATO.

Learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Mefina.

Meff. He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him.

Leon. How many gentlemen have you loft in this action?

Meff. But few of any fort, and none of name.

Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the atchiever brings home full numbers; I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine call'd Claudio.

(1) Much Ado about Nothing.] Innogen, (the mother of Here) in the oldest Quarto that I have seen of this play, printed in 1600, is mention'd to enter in two several scenes. The fucceeding editions have all continued her name in the Dramatis Perfonæ. But I have ventur to expunge it; there being no mention of her thro' the play, no one speech addrefs'd to her, nor one fyllable spoken by her. Neither is there any one paffage, from which we have any reafon to determine that Hero's mother was living. It feems, as if the poet had in his first plan defign'd fuch a character; which, on a survey of it, he found would be fuperfluous; and therefore he left it out.

Me. Much deferved on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the promife of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion he hath, indeed, better better'd expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how.

Leon. He hath an uncle here in Mefina will be very much glad of it.

Me. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even fo much, that joy could not fhew itself modest enough, without a badge of bitternefs.

Leon. Did he break out into tears?

Me. In

great measure.

Leon. A kind overflow of kindnefs; there are no faces truer than thofe that are fo wafh'd; how much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping?

Beat. I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from

the wars or no.

Maff. I know none of that name, Lady; there was none fuch in the army of any fort.

Leon. What is he that you ask for, Niece?

Hero. My Coufin means Signior Benedick of Padua. Mel. O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. Beat. He fet up his bills here in Melina, and challeng'd Cupid at the flight; and my Uncle's fool, reading the challenge, fubfcrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in thefe wars? but how many hath he kill'd? for, indeed, I promis'd to eat all of his killing.

Leon. 'Faith, Niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.

Meff. He hath done good fervice, Lady, in thefe wars. Beat. You had mufly victuals, and he hath holp to eat it; he's a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent ftomach.

Meff. And a good foldier too, Ladv.

Beat. And a good foldier to a lady? but what is he to a lord?

Me. A lord to a lord, a man to a man, ftufft with all honourable virtues.

Beat.

Beat. It is fo, indeed: (2) he is no less than a ftufft man: but for the ftuffing, well, we are all mortal.

Leon. You must not, Sir, mistake my Niece; there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them.

Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our laft conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd with one: So that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horfe; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? he hath every month a new fworn brother.

Meff. Is it poffible?

Beat. Very easily poffible; he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block.

Meff. I fee, Lady, the gentleman is not in your books. Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my Study. But, I pray you, who is his companion? is there no young fquarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil?

Me. He is moft in the company of the right noble Claudio.

Beat. O lord, he will hang upon him like a difeafe; he is fooner caught than the peftilence, and the taker runs prefently mad. God help the noble Claudio, if he have caught the Benedick; it will coft him a thousand pound ere he be cur'd.

Meff. I will hold friends with you, Lady.

Beat. Do, good friend.

Lean. You'll ne'er run mad, Niece.

(2) be is no less than a flufft man: but for the fluffing well, we are all mortal.] Thus has this paffage been all along flop'd, from the very first edition downwards. If any of the editors could extract fenfe from this pointing, their fegacity is a pitch above mine. I believe, by my regulation of the ftops, I have retriev'd the poet's true meaning. Our poet feems to use the word Stuffing here much as Plautus does in his Mufellaria: At 1. Sc. 3.

Non veftem amatores mulieris amant, fed veftis fartum.

A 4

Beat.

Beat. No, not 'till a hot January.
Me. Don Pedro is approach'd.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and
Don John.

Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid coft, and you encounter it.

Leon. Never came trouble to my houfe in the likenefs of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort fhould remain; but when you depart from me, forrow abides, and happiness takes his leave.

Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I think this is your daughter.

Leon. Her mother hath many times told me fo.

Bene. Were you in doubt, Sir, that you afk'd her? Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.

Pedro. You have it full, Benedick; we may guefs by this what you are, being a man: truly, the lady fathers herfelf; be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father.

Bene. If Signior Leonato be her Father, fhe would not have his head on her fhoulders for all Mefina, as like him as fhe is.

Beat. I wonder that you will ftill be talking, Signior Benedict; no body marks you.

Bene. What, my dear lady Difdain! are you yet living?

Beat. Is it poffible, Difdain fhould die, while fhe hath fuch meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick ? Courtefy itfelf muft convert to Difdain, if you come in her prefence.

Bene. Then is courtefy a turn-coat; but it is certain, I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.

Beat. A dear happiness to women; they would elfe have been troubled with a pernicious fuitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that;

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