All language subtitles for Engkuhlish

"Sing no more ditties..."

More, more, more!

"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!"

My lord.

I learn in this letter

that Don Pedro of Aragon

comes this night to Messina!

He was not three leagues off
when I left him.

- How many were lost in this action?
- But few of any sort and none of name.

I find here that Don Pedro
hath bestowed much honor

on a young Florentine called Claudio!

He hath borne himself
beyond the promise of his age,

doing in the figure of a lamb
the feats of a lion!

Is Signior Mountanto
returned from the wars or no?

- I know none of that name, lady.
- My cousin means Signior Benedick.

He's returned, and as pleasant as ever.

I pray you, how many hath
he killed and eaten in these wars?

But how many hath he killed?

For I promised
to eat all of his killing.

He hath done good service.
And a good soldier, too, lady.

And a good soldier to a lady.

- But what is he to a lord?
- A lord to a lord. A man to a man.

- Stuffed with all honorable virtues.
- It is so indeed.

He is no less than a stuffed man.

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.

Who is his companion now?

He hath every month
a new sworn brother.

He is most in the company
of the noble Claudio.

Oh, Lord!

He will hang upon him like a disease!

He is sooner caught than the pestilence,
and the taker runs presently mad.

God help the noble Claudio.

If he have caught the Benedick, it will
cost him 1,000 pounds ere he be cured.

I will keep friends with you, lady!

Do, good friend.

You will never run mad, niece.

No, not till a hot January.

Don Pedro is approaching!

Good Signior Leonato,
are you come to meet your trouble?

The fashion of the world is to
avoid cost, and you encounter it.

Never came trouble to my house
in the likeness of your grace.

- My lord...
- I think this is your daughter.

Her mother hath many times told me so.

- Were you in doubt, that you asked her?
- Signior Benedick, no!

She would not have her father's head
on her shoulders, as like him as she is.

I wonder that you will still be talking.
Nobody marks you.

What, my dear Lady Disdain!

Are you yet living?

Is it possible disdain should die,

while she hath such meet food
as Signior Benedick?

Courtesy must convert to disdain
if you come in her presence.

Then is courtesy a turncoat.

But it is certain I am loved of all
ladies, only you excepted.

I would that I had not a hard heart,
for I love none.

A dear happiness to women.
They would acquire a pernicious suitor.

I thank God and my cold blood,
I am of your humor for that.

I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow
than a man swear he loves me.

God keep you still in that mind,

so some gentleman or other shall
'scape a predestinate scratched face.

Scratching could not make it worse,
an 'twere such a face as yours were.

You are a rare parrot teacher.

A bird of my tongue
is better than a beast of yours.

I would my horse
had the speed of your tongue.

Keep your way, in God's name.
I have done.

You always end with a jade's trick.

I know you of old.

Signior Claudio, Signior Benedick,

my dear friend Leonato hath
invited you all.

I tell him we shall stay here
at the least a month.

Let me bid you welcome, my lord.

Being reconciled to the prince,
your brother,

I owe you all duty.

I thank you.

I am not of many words,
but I thank you.

- Please it your grace lead on?
- Your hand, Leonato.

We will go together.

Benedick...

Didst thou note the daughter
of Signior Leonato?

- I noted her not, but I looked on her.
- Is she not a modest young lady?

Do you question me
for my simple true judgment,

or would you have me speak
as a professed tyrant to their sex?

No. Speak in soberjudgment.

Methinks she's too low
for a high praise,

too brown for a fair praise,
and too little for a great praise.

Were she other than she is,
she were unhandsome,

being no other but as she is,
I do not like her.

Thou thinkest I am in sport.
Tell me truly how thou likest her.

Would you buy her
that you inquire after her?

- Can the world buy such a jewel?
- Yea, and a case to put it into.

But speak you this with a sad brow?

In mine eyes she is the sweetest lady
that ever I looked on.

I can see yet without spectacles
and I see no such matter.

There's her cousin, an' she
were not possessed with a fury,

exceeds her as much in beauty as the
first of May doth the last of December.

I hope you have no intent
to turn husband. Have you?

I would scarce trust myself,

though I had sworn the contrary,

if Hero would be my wife.

Is't come to this?

Shall I never see a bachelor
of three-score again?

Gentlemen... What secret hath held you
here that you followed not to Leonato's?

He is in love!

With who? That is your grace's part.

- With Hero, Leonato's short daughter!
- Amen if you love her.

- She is well worthy.
- You speak this to fetch me in.

- By my troth, I speak my thought.
- In faith I spoke mine.

By my two faiths and troths,
I spoke mine.

- That I love her, I feel.
- That she is worthy, I know.

That I neither feel
how she should be loved

nor know how she should be worthy

is the opinion I will die in
at the stake.

Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic
in the despite of beauty.

That a woman conceived me, I thank her.

That she brought me up, I likewise
give her most humble thanks.

But that I will hang my bugle
in an invisible baldric,

all women shall pardon me.

I will live a bachelor.

I shall see thee, ere I die,
look pale with love.

With anger, with sickness,
or with hunger, my lord, not with love.

Well, as time shall try -

"In time, the savage bull
doth bear the yoke."

If ever the sensible Benedick bear it,

pluck off the bull's horns
and set them in my forehead,

and let me be vilely painted,
"Here is good horse to hire."

Let them signify under my sign, "Here
you may see Benedick the married man."

Benedick, repair to Leonato's.

Tell him I will not fail him at supper,
for he hath made great preparation.

Examine your conscience.

And so I leave you.

Hath Leonato any son, my lord?

No child but Hero. She's his only heir.

Dost thou affect her, Claudio?

Oh...

My lord, when you went onward
on this ended action,

I looked upon her with a soldier's eye
that liked,

but had a rougher task in hand than
to drive liking to the name of love.

But now...

I am returned and that war thoughts
have left their places vacant,

in their rooms come thronging
soft and delicate desires,

all prompting me how fair young Hero is.

Saying...

I liked her ere I went to wars.

Thou wilt be like a lover presently, and
tire the hearer with a book of words.

If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it.

I will break with her and her father,
and thou shalt have her.

I know we shall have reveling tonight.

I will assume thy part in some disguise,

and tell fair Hero I am Claudio.

And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart,
and take her hearing prisoner

with the force and strong encounter
of my amorous tale.

Then after to her father will I break,
and the conclusion is

she shall be thine.

In practice
let us put it presently.

What the good-year, my lord.

Why are you thus out of measure sad?

There is no measure in the occasion
that breeds,

therefore the sadness is without limit.

You should hear reason.

If when I have heard it,

what blessing brings it?

I cannot hide what I am.

I must be sad when I have cause,
and smile at no man's jests,

eat when I have stomach,
and wait for no man's leisure.

Sleep when I am drowsy,
and tend on no man's business.

Laugh when I am merry,

and claw no man in his humor.

Yea... but you must not
make full show of this

till you may do so without controlment.

You have of late stood out
against your brother,

and he hath ta'en you
newly into his grace,

but you should take true root by the
fair weather that you make yourself.

I had rather be a canker in a hedge
than a rose in his grace!

In this, though I cannot be said
to be a flattering, honest man,

I am a plain-dealing villain.

If I had my mouth, I would bite.

If I had my liberty,
I would do my liking.

In the meantime, let me be that I am,

and seek not to alter me.

Borachio! What news?

I can give you intelligence
of an intended marriage.

Will it serve for any model
to build mischief on?

Marry, it is your brother's right hand.

- Who? The most exquisite Claudio.
- Even he.

- How came you to this?
- I heard it agreed upon

that the prince should woo Hero
for himself, and having obtained her,

give her to Count Claudio.

Come! Come, let us thither.

This may prove food to my displeasure.

That young start-up
hath all the glory of my overthrow.

If I can cross him any way,

I bless myself every way.

You are both sure, and will assist me?

To the death, my lord.

- Shall we go prove what's to be done?
- We'll wait upon your lordship.

- Was not Count John here at supper?
- I saw him not.

How tartly he looks. I never can see him
but I am heart-burned an hour after.

He's of a very melancholy disposition.

He were an excellent man
that were made in the midway

between him and Benedick.

The one is too like an image
and says nothing,

and the other too like my lady's
eldest son - evermore tattling.

Then half Signior Benedick's tongue
in Count John's mouth,

and half Count John's melancholy
in Signior Benedick's face...

With a good leg!

And a good foot, Uncle,
and money enough in his purse.

Such a man would win
any woman in the world,

if he could get her good will.

Thou wilt never get thee a husband
if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

I could not endure a husband with a
beard. I had rather lie in the woolen.

You may light on a husband
that hath no beard.

Should I dress him in my apparel
and make him my waiting gentlewoman?

He that hath a beard
is more than a youth,

and he that hath no beard
is less than a man.

He that is more than a youth
is not for me.

He that is less than a man,
I am not for him.

In faith, she's too cursed!

- Well, then, go you into hell?
- No, but to the gate.

There will the devil meet me
like an old cuckold,

with horns on his head, and say,
"Get you to heaven, Beatrice.

Get you to heaven.
Here's no place for you maids."

So away to Saint Peter for the heavens.

He shows me where the bachelors sit,

and there live we as merry
as the day is long.

Niece, I hope you will be ruled
by your father.

Yes, it is my cousin's duty
to make curtsy and say,

"Father, as it please you."

But yet for all that, cousin,
let him be a handsome fellow,

or make another curtsy and say,
"Father, as it please me."

Daughter, remember what I told you.

If the prince do solicit you
in that kind,

you will know your answer.

Well, niece, I hope to see you
one day fitted with a husband.

Not till God make men
of some other metal than earth.

You apprehend passing shrewdly.

I have a good eye, Uncle.
I can see a church by daylight.

The revelers are entering!

Lady, will you walk
about with your friend?

I know you well enough.
You are Signior Antonio.

At a word, I am not.

I know you by the waggling
of your head.

- At a word, I am not.
- Come, come.

Do you think I do not know you
by your excellent wit?

Can virtue hide itself?

Go to, mum, you are he.

Graces will appear and there's an end.

- I would you did like me.
- Of course I would not.

- I have many ill qualities.
- Which is one?

I say my prayers aloud.

Will you not tell me who told you so?

No.

- Will you not tell me who you are?
- Not now.

That I was disdainful,

and that I had my good wit
out of the Hundred Merry Tales.

This was Signior Benedick
that said so.

What's he?

- I am sure you know him well enough.
- Not I, believe me.

- Did he never make you laugh?
- I pray you, what is he?

Why, he is the prince's jester.

A very dull fool.

His only gift is in devising
impossible slanders.

None but libertines delight in him, for
he both pleases men and angers them.

And then they laugh at him
and beat him.

I am sure he is in the fleet.

I would he had boarded me.

When I know the gentleman,
I'll tell him what you say.

Do.

- We must follow the leaders.
- In every good thing.

- Are not you Signior Benedick?
- You know me well. I am he.

Signior, you are very near my brother
in his love.

He is enamored on Hero.
Dissuade him from her.

She is no equal for his birth.

How know you... he loves her?

I heard him swear his affection.

So did I, too.
He swore he would marry her tonight.

Come, let us to the banquet.

Thus answer I in name of Benedick,

but hear these ill news
with the ears of Claudio.

'Tis certain so.

The prince woos for himself!

Friendship is constant
in all other things

save in the office and affairs of love.

This is an accident of hourly proof,
which I mistrusted not.

Farewell, therefore, Hero!

Count Claudio.
Come, will you go with me?

- Whither?
- About your own business.

- The prince hath got your Hero.
- I wish him joy of her.

Did you think the prince
would have served you thus?

- Leave me.
- Alas, poor hurt fowl!

But that my lady Beatrice
should know me, and not know me!

The prince's fool? Ha!

I am not so reputed.

It is the base,
the bitter disposition of Beatrice

that puts the world into her person,
and so gives me out.

Well, I'll be revenged as I may.

Signior, where's the count?

I found him here
as melancholy as a lodge in a warren.

I told him, and I think I told him true,

that your grace had got the good will
of this young lady.

The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you.

The gentleman that danced with her
told her she is much wronged by you.

She misused me past
the endurance of a block!

She told me, not thinking
I had been myself,

that I was the prince's jester,

that I was duller than a great thaw,

huddling jest upon jest
with impossible conveyance upon me

that I stood like a man at a mark
with a whole army shooting at me.

She speaks poniards,
and every word stabs.

If her breath were as terrible
as her terminations,

she would infect to the north star.

Indeed, all disquiet, horror
and perturbation follows her.

Look, here she comes.

Will you command me
any service to the world's end?

I will go on the slightest errand now
to the Antipodes

that you can devise to send me on.

I will fetch you a hair
off the great Cham's beard,

do you any embassage to the pygmies,

rather than hold three words' conference
with this harpy!

You have no employment for me?

None, but to desire your good company.

Oh, God, sir. Here's a dish I love not.

I cannot endure my Lady Tongue!

Ha!

Come, lady. You have lost the heart
of Signior Benedick.

Indeed, my lord.

He lent it me awhile,

and I gave him use for it -

a double heart for his single one.

Marry, once before he won it of me
with false dice.

Therefore your grace may well say
I have lost it.

You have put him down,
you have put him down.

So I would not he should do me, my lord,

lest I should prove the mother of fools.

I have brought Count Claudio,
whom you sent me to seek.

- Wherefore art thou sad?
- Not sad, my lord.

- How then? Sick?
- Neither, my lord.

The count is neither sad, nor sick,

nor merry, nor well,

but civil count - civil as an orange,

and something of that
jealous complexion.

I think your blazon to be true,

though I'll be sworn, if he be so,
his conceit is false.

Here, Claudio.

I have wooed in thy name...

...and fair Hero is won.

I have broke with her father,
and his good will obtained.

Name the day of marriage,
and God give thee joy!

Count, take of me my daughter,
and with her my fortunes.

His grace hath made the match,

and all grace say amen to it.

Speak, Count. 'Tis your cue.

Silence is the perfectest herald ofjoy.

I were but little happy
if I could say how much.

Lady, as you are mine...

...I am yours.

Speak, cousin,

or if you cannot, stop his mouth with
a kiss, and let not him speak neither.

In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Yea, my lord, I thank it.

Poor fool, it keeps
on the windy side of care.

My cousin tells him in his ear
that he is in her heart.

And so she doth, cousin.

Good Lord, for alliance!

Thus goes everyone to the world
but I, and I am sunburnt.

I may sit in a corner and cry,
"Heigh-ho for a husband!"

Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

I would rather have one
of your father's getting.

Hath your grace ne'er
a brother like you?

Your father got excellent husbands,
if a maid could come by them.

Will you have me, lady?

No, my lord.

Unless I might have another
for working days.

Your grace is too costly
to wear every day.

But I beseech your grace, pardon me.

I was born to speak all mirth
and no matter.

Your silence most offends me,

and to be merry best becomes you,

for you were born in a merry hour.

No, sure, my lord, my mother cried.

But then there was a star danced,

and under that was I born.

Cousins...

God give you joy.

By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.

There's little of the
melancholy element in her, my lord.

She is never sad but when she sleeps,
and not ever then,

for I have heard my daughter say

she hath often dreamt of unhappiness
and waked herself with laughing.

She cannot endure
to hear tell of a husband.

Oh, by no means.

She were an excellent wife
for Benedick.

If they were but a week married,
they would talk themselves mad.

- When mean you to go to church?
- Tomorrow.

Not till Monday, my dear son,
which is hence a just-seven night,

and a time too brief, too,
to have all things answer my mind.

I will in the interim undertake
one of Hercules' labors,

which is to bring Benedick and Beatrice

into a mountain of affection,
the one with the other.

I would fain have it a match,

and I doubt not but to fashion it,
if you will but minister assistance.

My lord, I am for you,
though it cost me ten nights' watchings.

- And I, my lord.
- And you too, gentle Hero?

I will do any modest office
to help my cousin to a good husband.

If we can do this,
Cupid is no longer an archer.

His glory shall be ours,
for we are the only love gods.

Go with me, I will tell you my drift.

I do much wonder that one man,
seeing how much another man is a fool

when he dedicates his behaviors
to love,

will, after he hath laughed
at such shallow follies in others,

become the argument of his own scorn
by falling in love.

And such a man is Claudio.

I have known when there was no music
with him but the drum and the fife,

and now would he rather hear
the tabor and the pipe.

He would have walked ten mile afoot
to see a good armor,

now will he lie ten nights awake,
carving the fashion of a new doublet.

He was wont to speak plain
like an honest man and a soldier,

now is he turned orthography.

His words are a very
fantastical banquet,

just so many strange dishes.

Well, may I be so converted
and see with these eyes?

I cannot tell. I think not.

I will not be sworn, but love
may transform me to an oyster,

but till he hath made an oyster of me,
he shall never make me such a fool.

One woman is fair, yet I am well.

Another is wise, yet I am well.
Another virtuous, yet I am well,

but till all graces be in one woman,

one woman shall not come in my grace.

Rich she shall be, that's certain.

Wise, or I'll none.

Virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her.

Fair, or I'll never look on her.

Mild, or come not near me.

Of good discourse,
an excellent musician,

um...

...and her hair shall be...

...of what color it please God.

Huh!

The prince and Monsieur Love.

I will hide me.

- See you where Benedick hides himself?
- Very well, my lord.

Come, Balthasar.
We'll hear that song again.

(guitar plays)

Now, divine air!

Now is his soul ravished.

Is it not strange that sheep's guts
should hale souls out of men's bodies?

♪ 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

♪ 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 ♪

By my troth, a good song.

- And an ill singer, my lord.
- No, no, faith.

Thou singest well enough.

An' he had been a dog that should have
howled thus, they'd have hanged him.

Come hither, Leonato.
What was it you told me of today?

That your niece Beatrice
was in love with Signior Benedick?

I did never think that lady
would have loved any man.

Nor I neither,

but most wonderful that she
should dote on Signior Benedick

whom she hath in all outward
behaviors seemed ever to abhor.

Is't possible?

Maybe she doth but counterfeit?

Faith, like enough.

Oh, God! Counterfeit?

There was never counterfeit of passion
came so near the life of passion

as she discovers it.

Why...

...what effects of passion shows she?

Bait the hook well. This fish will bite!

What effects, my lord?

- My daughter told you how.
- She did indeed.

How, I pray you?

You amaze me!

I should think this a trick, but that
the grey-bearded fellow speaks it.

- Has she made her affection known?
- No, and swears she never will.

That's her torment.
She'll be up 20 times a night,

and there will she sit
till she have writ a sheet of paper.

Then down upon her knees she falls.

Weeps, sobs, beats her heart,

tears her hair, curses,
"Oh, sweet Benedick!

"God give me patience!"

She does indeed. My daughter says so.

My daughter is sometime afeared

that she will do a desperate outrage
to herself.

It is very true.

(Don Pedro) Benedick
should know of it.

What end?
He would torment the poor lady worse.

I'm sorry for her.

Tell Benedick of it,
and hear what he will say.

Were it good?

Hero thinks surely she will die,

for she says she will die
if he love her not,

and she will die ere she make her love
known, and she will die if he woo her.

If she should make tender of her love,
'tis very possible he'll scorn it,

for the man hath a contemptible spirit.

Oh!

I love Benedick well,

and I could wish he would
modestly examine himself,

to see how much he is unworthy
so good a lady.

My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready.

If he do not dote on her upon this,
I will never trust my expectation.

Let the same net be spread for her.

That must Hero
and her gentlewoman carry.

Let us send Beatrice
to call him in to dinner.

This can be no trick.

The conference was sadly borne.

They have the truth of this from Hero.

Love me?

Why, it must be requited.

I hear how I am censured.

They say I will bear myself proudly
if I perceive the love come from her.

They say too that she will rather die
than give any sign of affection.

I did never think... to marry.

I must not seem proud. Happy are they
that hear their detractions

and can put them to mending.
They say the lady is fair.

'Tis a truth. And virtuous.
'Tis so. I cannot reprove it.

And wise, but for loving me.

By my troth,
it is no addition to her wit,

nor no great argument of her folly,

for I will be

horribly in love with her!

I may chance have some odd quirks
and remnants of wit broken on me

because I have railed so long
against marriage...

...but dost not the appetite alter?

A man loves the meat in his youth
that he cannot endure in his age.

Shall these quips and sentences
and paper bullets of the brain

awe a man from the career
of his humor?

No!

The world must be peopled!

When I said I would die a bachelor,

I did not think I should live
till I were married.

Here comes Beatrice.

By this day!
She's a fair lady.

I do spy some... marks of love in her.

Against my will I am sent to bid you
come in to dinner.

Fair Beatrice!
I thank you for your pains.

I took no more pains for those thanks
than you take pains to thank me.

If it had been painful,
I would not have come.

You take pleasure,
then, in the message?

Yea, just so much as you may take
upon a knife's point.

You have no stomach, signior?
Fare you well.

Ha!

"Against my will I am sent

to bid you come in to dinner."

There's a double meaning in that.

(shouts) But are you sure that
Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

So says the prince,
and my new-trothed lord.

And did they bid you tell her of it,
madam?

They did entreat me
to acquaint her of it,

but I persuaded them,
if they loved Benedick,

never to let Beatrice know of it.

Doth not he deserve as full as fortunate

a bed as ever Beatrice
shall couch upon?

Oh, God of love! I know he doth deserve
as much as may be yielded to a man,

but nature never framed a woman's heart
of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.

Disdain and scorn ride
sparkling in her eyes,

misprising what they look on,

and her wit values itself so highly,

that to her, all matter else seems weak.

- She cannot love.
- Sure, I think so.

Tell her of it.
Hear what she will say.

No. I will go to Benedick,

and counsel him to fight
against his passion.

(Ursula) Do not do your cousin
such a wrong.

She cannot be so much without
true judgment, having so swift a wit,

as to refuse so rare a gentleman
as Signior Benedick.

He's the only man of Italy.
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

- When are you married, madam?
- Why, every day. Tomorrow!

She's limed, I warrant you.

We have caught her, madam.

If it proves so,
then loving goes by haps.

Some Cupid kills with arrows,
some with traps.

What fire is in mine ears?

Can this be true? Stand I condemned
for pride and scorn so much?

Contempt, farewell!
And maiden pride, adieu!

No glory lives behind the back of such.

And, Benedick, love on!

I will requite thee,

taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.

If thou dost love,
my kindness shall incite thee

to bind our loves up in a holy band.

For others say thou dost deserve,

and I believe it

better than reportingly!

Are you good men and true?

Yut-ta-ta, yut-ta-ta, oi, oi, yea!

Being chosen for the prince's watch,
this is your charge.

You are to bid any man stand
in the prince's name.

How if he will not stand?

Then take no note of him but let him go.

If he will not stand when he is bidden,
he is none of the prince's subjects.

True. And they are to meddle
with none but the prince's subjects.

You shall also make no noise
in the streets.

We will rather sleep than talk.

You speak like an ancient...

...and a most quiet watchman,

for I cannot see how sleeping
should offend.

If you meet a thief,

you may suspect him,
by virtue of your office,

to be no true man.

And for such kind of men,

the less you meddle or make with them,

why, the more is for your honesty.

You have been always called
a merciful man... partner.

Truly, I would not
hang a dog by my will,

much more a man
who hath any honesty in him.

'Tis very true.

- Phrrt!
- Well, masters...

Good night.

And, there be any matter
of weight chances, call up me.

Come, neighbor.

We hear our charge.

Let us sit upon the bench till two,
and then to bed.

One word more, honest neighbors.

I pray you,
watch upon Signior Leonato's door,

for the wedding being there tomorrow,
there is a great coil tonight.

Adieu...

Be vigitant, I beseech you.

'Tis so. Count Claudio
shall marry the daughter of Leonato.

Yea, my lord, but I can cross it.

Any bar, any cross, any impediment
will be medicinable to me.

I am sick in displeasure to him.

Whatsoever comes athwart
his affection ranges evenly with mine.

- How canst thou cross this marriage?
- Not honestly.

But so covertly that no dishonesty
shall appear in me.

- Show me briefly how.
- I told your lordship

how much I am in the favor of Margaret,
the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.

I remember.

I can at any instant appoint her to look
out at her lady's chamber window.

What life is in that to be the death
of this marriage?

The poison of that lies
in you to temper.

Gallants...

I am not as I have been.

So say I. Methinks you are sadder.

I hope he be in love.

Ooh!

Signior, walk with me.
I have studied eight or nine wise words

which these hobby-horses
must not hear.

For my life, to break
with him about Beatrice!

- My lord and brother, God save you.
- Good evening, brother.

- I would speak with you.
- In private?

Count Claudio may hear,
for what I would speak of concerns him.

What's the matter?

You may think I love you not,
but that appear here after

and e'en better than me,
by that I now will manifest.

Means your lordship
to marry tomorrow?

You know he does.

I know not that when he knows
what I know.

Hero! Hero! Hero!

The lady is disloyal.
If you love her now, tomorrow wed her,

but it would better fit your honor
to change your mind.

Conrade!

What, Conrade! Conrade, I say!

Here, man. I am at thy elbow.

Mass, and my elbow itched.
I thought there would a scab follow.

I will owe thee an answer for that.

- Now, forward with thy tale.
- Sit close, then.

- Some treason, masters!
- I know him!

I have tonight wooed Margaret,

the lady Hero's gentlewoman,

by the name of Hero!

I shall first tell thee how the prince,
Claudio and my master,

planted by my master Don John,

saw this amiable encounter.

And thought they Margaret was Hero?

Ay, and away went Claudio enraged!

We charge you
in the prince's name, stand!

Call up the right Master Constable.

We have here the most
dangerous piece of lechery

ever known in the commonwealth.

- Masters!
- Never speak!

There, sir.

- What would you with me, neighbors?
- Marry, sir, our watch tonight

have ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves
as any in Messina.

Good old man, sir...

He will be talking. As they say,
when the age is in, the wit is out.

Well said, i' faith, neighbor Verges.

Well, God's a good man, and two men
ride of a horse, one must ride behind.

All men are not alike, alas.

- Indeed, he comes too short of you.
- Gifts that God gives.

Neighbors, you are tedious.

Well, if 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 in my heart to bestow it
all on your worship.

All thy tediousness on me?

Ah...

I would fain know what you have to say.

Our watch have indeed
comprehended two auspicious persons.

We would have them examined
before your worship.

Take their examination yourself
and bring it me.

I am now in great haste,
as it may appear unto you.

Drink some wine ere you go.

We are now to examination these men.

Meet me at the jail.

(cheering)

You come hither, my lord,
to marry this lady.

No.

To be married to her.
You come to marry her.

Lady, you come hither
to be married to this count.

I do.

If you have any inward impediment
why you should not be conjoined,

I charge you, on your souls,
to utter it.

- Know you any, Hero?
- None, my lord.

- Know you any, Count?
- I dare make his answer. None.

Stand thee by, Friar.

Father, will you with free
and unconstrained soul

- give me this maid, your daughter?
- As freely, son,

- as God did give her me.
- And what have I to give you back

whose worth may counterpoise
this rich and precious gift?

Nothing, unless you render her again.

Sweet Prince, you learn me
noble thankfulness.

There, Leonato. Take her back again!

Give not this rotten orange
to your friend.

She's but the sign and semblance
of her honor.

Behold how like a maid
she blushes here!

Would you not swear,
all you that see her,

that she were a maid by these
exterior shows? But she is none!

- She knows the heat of a luxurious bed!
- What do you mean, my lord?

Not to be married, not to knit my soul
to an approved wanton.

No!

Dear my lord, if you in your own proof

have vanquished the resistance
of her youth,

- and made defeat of her virginity...
- No, Leonato!

I never tempted her
with word too large...

...but as a brother to his sister,

showed bashful sincerity
and comely love.

And seemed I ever otherwise to you?

You seemed to me as Dian in her orb,

but you are more intemperate
in your blood than Venus...

Go away!

...or those pampered animals
that rage in savage sensuality.

Is my lord well,
that he doth speak so wide?

- Why speak not you?
- What should I speak?

I stand dishonored that I have gone
about to link my dear friend

to a common stale.

What man was he talked
with you yesternight

out at your window
betwixt twelve and one?

I talked with no man at that hour,
my lord.

Why, then you are no maiden.
Leonato, I am sorry you must hear.

Upon mine honor, myself, my brother
and this grieved count did see her,

hear her at that hour last night,

talk with a ruffian at her window,
who hath, most like a liberal villain,

confessed the vile encounters they have
had a thousand times in secret.

Let us go. These things, come thus
to light, smother her spirits up.

Cousin! Wherefore sink you down?

Hath no man's dagger
here a point for me?

Do not live, Hero!
Do not open thine eyes!

- Get your hands free!
- Grieved I, I had but one.

Why had I one?

Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?

- She is fallen into a pit of ink.
- Sir, be patient.

For my part, I am so attired in wonder,
I know not what to say.

- On my soul, my cousin is belied!
- Were you her bedfellow last night?

No, although until last night I have
this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.

Confirmed! Confirmed!

Would the two princes lie
and Claudio lie?

Hence from her, let her die!

Hear me a little!

Lady, what man is he
you are accused of?

They know that do accuse me.
I know none.

There is some strange misprision
in the princes.

Two of them have
the very bent of honor.

If they be misled in this,
it is by John the bastard.

If they wrong her honor, the proudest
of them shall well hear of it.

Pause awhile, and let my counsel
sway you in this case.

Your daughter here
the princes left for dead.

Let her awhile be secretly kept in,

and publish it that she is dead indeed.

What shall become of this?

She dying, as it must be so maintained,
upon the instant that she was accused,

shall be lamented, pitied,

and excused of every hearer.

So will it fare with Claudio.

When he shall hear
she died upon his words,

the idea of her life

shall sweetly creep
into his study of imagination,

and every lovely organ of her life shall
come appareled in more precious habit

than when she lived indeed.

Then shall he mourn, and wish
he had not so accused her.

Signior Leonato,
let the friar advise you.

Being that I flow in grief,

the smallest twine may lead me.

'Tis well consented. Presently away.

Come, lady.

Die to live.

This wedding day perhaps
is but prolonged.

Have patience and endure.

Lady Beatrice,
have you wept all this while?

Yea.

- And I will weep awhile longer.
- I will not desire that.

You have no reason. I do it freely.

Surely I believe your cousin
is wronged.

How much might the man deserve of me
that would right her!

Is there a way
to show such friendship?

A very even way but no such friend.

- May a man do it?
- It is a man's office... but not yours.

I do love nothing in the world
so well as you.

Is not that strange?

As strange as the thing I know not.

It were as possible for me to say
I love nothing so well as you,

but believe me not, and yet I lie not.

I confess nothing nor I deny nothing.
I am sorry for my cousin.

By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.

- Do not swear, and eat it.
- I will swear by it that you love me,

and I will make him eat it
that says I love not you.

- Why then, God forgive me.
- What offense, sweet Beatrice?

You have stayed me in a happy hour.

- I was about to protest I loved you.
- And do it with all thy heart.

I love you with so much of my heart
that none is left to protest.

Come, bid me do anything for thee.

Kill Claudio.

Not for the wide world.

You kill me to deny it. Fare you well.

I am gone though I am here.
There is no love in you.

- Let me go!
- Beatrice!

- I will go!
- We'll be friends first.

You dare easier be friends with me
than fight with mine enemy?

- Is Claudio thine enemy?
- Is he not approved

in the height a villain

that hath slandered, scorned,
dishonored my kinswoman?

Oh, that I were a man!

What, bear her in hand
until they come to take hands,

and then with public accusation,

uncovered slander,
unmitigated rancor...

Oh, God, that I were a man!

I would eat his heart
in the market place!

Hear me, Beatrice.

Talk with a man out at a window.

- A proper saying!
- Beatrice.

Sweet Hero!

She is wronged, she is slandered.

- She is undone!
- Beatrice!

He is now as valiant as Hercules

that only tells a lie and swears it.

I cannot be a man with wishing,

therefore I will die a woman
with grieving.

By this hand, I love thee.

Use it for my love some other way
than swearing by it.

Think you in your soul the Count
Claudio hath wronged Hero?

Yea, as sure as I have a thought,

or a soul.

Enough.

I am engaged.

I will challenge him.

Go.

Comfort your cousin.

I must say she is dead.

And so, farewell.

Oh, yea!

- Which be the malefactors?
- Marry, that am I. And my partner.

But which are the offenders
that are to be examined?

What is your name, friend?

Borachio.

Write down "Borachio."

- Yours, sirrah?
- I am a gentleman, sir.

- Ooh!
- And my name is Conrade.

Write down
"Master Gentleman Conrade."

Masters, it is proved already that
you are little better than false names.

How answer you for yourselves?

Marry, sir, we say we are none.

You.

Sir, I say to you we are none.

- Have you writ down they are none?
- You go not the way to examine.

You must call forth the watch
that are their accusers.

Let the watch come forth.

I charge you, in the prince's name,
accuse these men.

This man said that Don John,
the prince's brother, was a villain.

- Write down "Prince John a villain."
- Master Constable...

Pray, thee, fellow, peace.

I do not like thy look, I promise thee.

What heard you him say else?

That he received 1,000 ducats
of Don John

for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully.

- Flat burglary as ever was committed.
- That it is.

- What else?
- And that Count Claudio did mean

upon his words to disgrace Hero
before the whole assembly

and not marry her.

Thou wilt be condemned
into everlasting redemption for this.

- What else?
- This is all.

Prince John is this morning
secretly stolen away.

Hero was in this manner accused,

in this very manner refused,

and upon the grief of this,
suddenly died.

Master Constable, let these men
be bound and brought to Leonato's.

Come, let them be opinioned.

Let them be, in the hands.

Off, coxcomb!

God's my life, where's the sexton?

Let him write down,
"The prince's officer coxcomb!"

Come, bind them. Thou naughty varlet!

Away! You are an ass!

You are an ass!

Dost thou not suspect my place?

Dost thou not suspect my years?

Oh, that he were here
to write me down an ass!

Masters, remember - I am an ass.

Though it be not written down,
forget not that I am an ass.

If you go on thus,
you will kill yourself.

Bring me a father
that so loved his child,

whose joy of her
is overwhelmed like mine,

and bid him speak of patience.

But there is no such man,

for men can counsel and speak comfort

to that grief
which they themselves not feel,

but tasting it, their counsel
turns to passion.

I pray thee, peace!
I will be flesh and blood.

For there was never yet philosopher that
could endure the toothache patiently.

Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself.

Make those that
do offend you suffer, too.

There thou speak'st reason.
Nay, I will do so.

My soul doth tell me Hero is belied,
and that shall Claudio know,

so shall the prince
and all that thus dishonor her.

Here comes the prince and Claudio!

- Good day.
- Hear you, my lords?

- We have some haste.
- Some haste?

Well, fare you well, my lord! Are you
so hasty now? Well, all is one.

Do not quarrel with us.

If quarrelling could right him,
men would lay low.

- Who wrongs him?
- Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou!

Never lay thy hand upon thy sword.
I fear thee not.

Beshrew my hand if it should give
such cause of fear.

- My hand meant nothing to my sword.
- Tush, tush.

Never fleer and jest at me.
I speak not like a dotard nor a fool.

I say thou hast belied
mine innocent child.

- You say not right, old man.
- I'll prove it on his body if he dare!

(Claudio) Away,
I will not have to do with you!

Canst thou so daff me?

Thou hast killed my child!

If thou kill'st me, boy,
thou shalt kill a man.

He shall kill two of us, and men indeed,

but that's no matter -
let him kill one first.

I'll whip you from your foining fence,
yea, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Content yourself.
God knows I loved my niece,

and she is dead,
slandered to death by villains.

Scambling, outfacing,
fashion-monging boys,

that lie and cog, and flout,
deprave and slander.

- Brother...
- 'Tis no matter. Do not you meddle.

Let me deal in this.

Gentlemen both,
we will not wake your patience.

My heart is sorry
for your daughter's death,

but she was charged with nothing but
what was true and very full of proof.

- My lord, my lord...
- I will not hear you.

No?

Come, brother. Away. I will be heard!

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

See, here comes
the man we went to seek.

- Now, signior, what news?
- Good day, my lord.

You are almost come
to part almost a fray.

We had liked to have had
our two noses snapped off.

Shall I speak a word in your ear?

You are a villain. I jest not.

I will make it good with
what you dare and when you dare.

Do me right, or I will protest
your cowardice.

You have killed a sweet lady,
and her death shall fall heavy on you.

Fare you well, boy.

You know my mind.

My lord, for your many courtesies,
I thank you.

I must discontinue your company.

Your brother the bastard
is fled from Messina.

You have among you killed
a sweet and innocent lady.

For my Lord Lackbeard there,
he and I shall meet.

Till then...

...peace be with him.

He is in earnest.

- In most profound earnest.
- And hath challenged thee.

Most sincerely.

Officers, what offense
have these men done?

They have committed false report,
moreover, they have spoken untruths,

secondarily, they are slanders,
sixth and lastly, they belied a lady,

thirdly, they have
verified unjust things,

and to conclude,
they are lying knaves.

Who have you offended, masters?

This learned constable
is too cunning to be understood.

I have deceived even your very eyes.

What your wisdoms could not discover,

these shallow fools
have brought to light,

who, in the night, overheard me
confessing to this man

how Don John your brother

incensed me to slander the lady Hero,

how you saw me court Margaret...

...how you disgraced Hero

when you should marry her.

The lady is dead

upon mine and my master's
false accusation.

Sweet Hero!

Come, bring away the plaintiffs.

By this time our sexton hath reformed
Signior Leonato of the matter.

And, masters, do not forget to specify,

when time and place shall serve,
that I am an ass.

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

Which is the villain?
Let me see his eyes!

If you would know your wronger,
look on me.

Art thou the slave that with thy tongue
hast killed mine innocent child?

Yea, even I alone.

No, not so, villain.
Thou beliest thyself.

Here stand a pair of honorable men.

A third is fled that had a hand in it.

I thank you for my daughter's death.

Record it with your high
and worthy deeds.

'Twas bravely done,
if you bethink you of it.

I know not how to pray your patience...
yet I must speak.

Choose your revenge yourself.

Impose me to what penance
your invention can lay upon my sin,

yet sinned I not but in mistaking.

By my soul, nor I.

I cannot bid you bid my daughter live.
That were impossible.

But I pray you both,

possess the people
in Messina here how innocent she died.

And if your love can labor
aught in sad invention,

hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,

and sing it to her bones.

Sing it tonight.

Tomorrow morning
come you to my house,

and since you could
not be my son-in-law,

be yet my nephew.

My brother hath a daughter.

Almost the copy of my child that's dead.

And she alone is heir to both of us.

Give her the right
you should have given her cousin,

and so dies my revenge.

Oh, noble sir.

Your overkindness
doth wring tears from me.

I do embrace your offer...

...and dispose for henceforth
of poor Claudio.

Tomorrow then I will
expect your coming.

Tonight I take my leave.

This naughty man shall face to face
be brought to Margaret,

who was packed in all this wrong.

Nay, by my soul, she was not,

nor knew not what she did
when she spoke to me,

but always hath been just and virtuous
in anything that I do know by her.

Moreover, sir, which indeed
is not under white and black,

the offender did call me "ass".

I beseech you, let it be remembered
in his punishment.

I thank thee for
thy care and honest pains.

Your worship speaks like
a most thankful and reverend youth,

and I praise God for you.

There's for thy pains.

God save the foundation!

Go.

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

I leave with your worship
an arrant knave,

which I beseech you to correct yourself,
for the example of others.

God restore you to health.

I humbly give you leave to depart,

and if a merry meeting may be wished,

God prohibit it!

Come, neighbor.

Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell.

Farewell, my lords.
We look for you tomorrow.

We will not fail.

Tonight...

I'll mourn with Hero.

(somber choir sings)

Done to death

by slanderous tongues...

...was the Hero that here lies.

Death in guerdon of her wrongs...

...gives her fame which never dies.

So the life...

...that died with shame...

...lives in death...

...with glorious fame.

(sobs)

♪ 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

♪ Heavily ♪

♪ The God of love

♪ That sits above

♪ And knows me

♪ How pitiful I deserve...

I mean in singing, but in loving,

Leander the good swimmer,
Troilus the first employer of panders,

and a whole book
full of these quondam carpet-mongers

whose names yet run smoothly
in the even road of a blank verse,

why they were never
so truly turned over and over

as my poor self in love.

Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme.

I have tried.

I can find out no rhyme to "lady"
but..."baby."

An innocent rhyme.

For "scorn" - "horn." A hard rhyme.

For "school" - "fool." A babbling rhyme.

Very ominous endings.

No...
I was not born under a rhyming planet,

nor I cannot woo in festival terms.

Sweet Beatrice,
wouldst thou come when I called thee?

Yea, signior,
and depart when you bid me.

Oh, stay but till then.

"Then" is spoken. Fare you well now.

And yet...

...ere I go...

...let me go with knowing what hath
passed between you and Claudio.

Only foul words,
and thereupon I will kiss thee.

Foul words is but foul breath,
and foul breath is noisome.

- I will depart unkissed.
- Thou hast frighted the word

out of his right sense,
so forcible is thy wit.

Claudio undergoes my challenge,

and either I must shortly
hear from him...

...or I will subscribe him a coward.

And I pray thee now,

tell me, for which of my bad parts

did thou first fall in love with me?

For them all together,

which maintains
so politic a state of evil

that they will not admit any good part
to intermingle with them.

For which of my good parts
did you first suffer love for me?

Suffer love! A good epithet,
for I love thee against my will.

In spite of your heart, I think.
Alas, poor heart.

If you spite it for my sake,
I will spite it for yours.

I will never love
that which my friend hates.

Thou and I are too wise
to woo peaceably.

And now tell me,

how doth your cousin?

Very ill.

And how do you?

Very ill too.

Serve God,

love me...

...and mend.

- Madam!
- Here comes one in haste.

You must come to your uncle.
Yonder's old coil at home.

It is proved my lady Hero
hath been falsely accused...

...the prince and Claudio
mightily abused,

and Don John is the author of all,

who is fled and gone.

Will you come...

...presently?

Will you go hear this news, signior?

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap
and be buried in thy eyes,

and moreover,
I will go with thee to thy uncle's.

- Did I not say she was innocent?
- So are the prince and Claudio

who accused her upon the error
debated. But Margaret...

...was in some fault for this.

I am glad that all things sort so well.

Now you gentlewomen all, withdraw,

and when I send for you,
come hither masked.

The prince and Claudio
promised by this hour to visit me.

You must be father
to your brother's daughter,

and give her to young Claudio.

Which I will do
with confirmed countenance.

Friar, I must entreat your pains,
I think.

- To do what, signior?
- To bind me or undo me, one of them.

Signior Leonato,
truth it is, good signior,

your niece regards me
with an eye of favor.

The sight whereof you had from me,
Claudio and the prince.

- What's your will?
- Your answer is enigmatical...

but my will is your good will
may stand with ours this day

to be conjoined in the state

of honorable marriage,

in which, good Friar,
I shall desire your help.

- My heart is with your liking.
- And my help.

Here come the prince and Claudio.

Good morrow to this fair assembly.

Good morrow, Prince. Good morrow,
Claudio. We here attend you.

Are you yet determined today
to marry with my brother's daughter?

Call her forth, brother.
Here's the friar ready.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

This same is she, and I do give you her.

Sweet...

- Let me see your face.
- No. That you shall not

till you take her hand before this friar
and swear to marry her.

Give me your hand
before this holy friar.

I am your husband...

...if you like of me.

Hero that is... dead.

She died, my lord,
but whiles her slander lived.

And when I lived,

I was your other wife.

And when you loved...

...you were my other husband.

One Hero died defiled, but I do live.

And surely as I live...

I am a maid.

All this amazement can I qualify.

When after that the holy rites
are ended,

I'll tell you largely
of fair Hero's death.

(Benedick) Soft and fair, Friar!

Which is Beatrice?

I answer to that name.

What is your will?

Do not you love me?

Why, no.

No more than reason.

Your uncle and the prince
and Claudio swore you did.

- Do not you love me?
- Why, no. No more than reason.

My cousin, Margaret and Ursula
are much deceived.

- They swore you did.
- They swore you were sick for me.

They swore you
were nearly dead for me.

'Tis no such matter. Then...

you do not love me?

No, truly, but in friendly recompense.

Come, cousin.
I am sure you love the gentleman!

I'll be sworn upon it that he loves her,
for here written in his hand,

a halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
fashioned to Beatrice.

And here's another, writ in my cousin's
hand, stolen from her pocket,

containing her affection unto Benedick.

A miracle!

Here's our own hands
against our hearts.

Come.

(resigned tone) I will have thee,
but by this light, I take thee for 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.

Peace! I will stop your mouth.

How dost thou, Benedick,
the married man?

I'll tell thee what, Prince,

a college of wit-crackers
cannot flout me out of my humor.

Dost thou think I care
for a satire or an epigram?

No. 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.

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.

We'll have dancing afterwards.

First, of my word.

Therefore play, music!

Prince, thou art sad.

Get thee a wife. Get thee a wife.

My lord, your brother John is ta'en
in flight and brought back to Messina.

Think not on him till tomorrow.

I'll devise the
brave punishments for him.

Strike up, pipers!

(all cheer)

♪ 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!

♪ 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 ♪