Act 5 Flashcards

1
Q

(383)

Good evening, good evening.

A

Godo day to both of you.

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2
Q

If he could right himself with quarreling, some of us would lie low.

A

Who wrongs him?

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3
Q

Thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou. Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; I fear thee not.

A

Marry, beshrew my hand if it should give your age such cause of fear. In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.

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4
Q

…. And she lies buried with her ancestors. O in a tomb where never scandal slept save this of hers, framed by thy villainy.

A

My villainy?

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5
Q

My lord, my lord, I’ll prove it on his body if he dare, despite his nice face and his active practice, his May of youth and bloom of lustihood.

A

Away, I will not have to do with you.

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6
Q

See, see, here comes the man we went to seek.

A

Now, signor, what news?

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7
Q

In false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both.

A

We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are high-proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?

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8
Q

Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?

A

Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw as we do the minstrels; draw to pleasure us.

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9
Q

Shall I speak a word in your ear?

A

God bless me from a challenge.

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10
Q

You are a villain. I jest not. I will make it good how you dare, 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. Let me hear from you.

A

Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

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11
Q

But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head?

A

Yay and text underneath, “Here dwells Benedick the married man”

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12
Q

He is in earnest.

A

In most profound earnest and I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.

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13
Q

And hath challenged thee?

A

Most sincerley.

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14
Q

How now, two of my brother’s men bound? Borachio one!

A

Hearken after their offence my lord.

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15
Q

First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly I ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and lastly why they are committed and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge.

A

Rightly reasoned and in his own division. And by my trooth there’s one meaning well suited.

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16
Q

Runs not the speech like iron through blood?

A

I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it.

17
Q

He is composed and framed of treachery, and fled he is upon this villainy.

A

Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear in rare semblance that I loved it first.

18
Q

… I thank you Princes, for my daughter’s death. Record it with your high and worthy deeds. ‘Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

A

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.

19
Q

… Give her the right you should have giv’n her cousin, and so dies my revenge.

A

O noble sir! Your overkindness doth wring tears from me, I do embrace your offer, and dispose for henceforth of poor Claudio.

20
Q

We will not fail.

A

Tonight I’ll mourn with Hero.

21
Q

(ENTER)

A

Is this the monument of Hero?

22
Q

It is my lord.

A

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… Hang though there upon the tomb, praising her when I am dumn. Now music sound and sing your solemn hymn.

23
Q

(SONG)

A

Now unto thy bones good night. Yearly will I do this rite.

24
Q

(EN WOMEN)

A

Which is the lady?

25
Q

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

A

Why then, she’s mine. Sweet, let me see your face.

26
Q

o, that you shall not till you take her hand before this Friar and swear to marry her.

A

Give me your hand before this holy friar. I am your husband, if you like of me.

27
Q

And when I lived I was your other wife; and when you loved, you were my other husband.

A

Another Hero!

28
Q

Come cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.

A

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, fashioned to Beatrice.