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Speeches (Lines) for Conrade
in "Much Ado about Nothing"

Total: 23

# Act, Scene, Line
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Speech text



(stage directions). [Enter DON JOHN and CONRADE]

Conrade. What the good-year, my lord! why are you thus out
of measure sad?



Don John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds;
therefore the sadness is without limit.

Conrade. You should hear reason.



Don John. And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it?

Conrade. If not a present remedy, at least a patient



Don John. I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayest thou art,
born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral
medicine to a mortifying mischief. 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 humour.

Conrade. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this
till you may do it without controlment. You have of
late stood out against your brother, and he hath
ta'en you newly into his grace; where it is
impossible you should take true root but by the
fair weather that you make yourself: it is needful
that you frame the season for your own harvest.



Don John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in
his grace, and it better fits my blood to be
disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob
love from any: in this, though I cannot be said to
be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied
but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with
a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I
have decreed not to sing in my cage. 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.

Conrade. Can you make no use of your discontent?



Don John. 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?

Conrade. To the death, my lord.



Borachio. Conrade, I say!

Conrade. Here, man; I am at thy elbow.



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

Conrade. I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward
with thy tale.



Borachio. Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats.

Conrade. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?



Borachio. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any
villany should be so rich; for when rich villains
have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what
price they will.

Conrade. I wonder at it.



Borachio. That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that
the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is
nothing to a man.

Conrade. Yes, it is apparel.



Borachio. I mean, the fashion.

Conrade. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.



Borachio. Didst thou not hear somebody?

Conrade. No; 'twas the vane on the house.



Borachio. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this
fashion is? how giddily a' turns about all the hot
bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty?
sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers
in the reeky painting, sometime like god Bel's
priests in the old church-window, sometime like the
shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry,
where his codpiece seems as massy as his club?

Conrade. All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears
out more apparel than the man. But art not thou
thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast
shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?



Borachio. Not so, neither: but know that I have to-night
wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the
name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress'
chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good
night,—I tell this tale vilely:—I should first
tell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master,
planted and placed and possessed by my master Don
John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter.

Conrade. And thought they Margaret was Hero?



First Watchman. And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; a'
wears a lock.

Conrade. Masters, masters,—



Second Watchman. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.

Conrade. Masters,—



Borachio. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken
up of these men's bills.

Conrade. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you.



Dogberry. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?

Conrade. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.



Dogberry. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do
you serve God?

Conrade. [with Borachio] Yea, sir, we hope.



Dogberry. Write down, that they hope they serve God: and
write God first; for God defend but God should go
before such villains! Masters, it is proved already
that you are little better than false knaves; and it
will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer
you for yourselves?

Conrade. Marry, sir, we say we are none.



Verges. Let them be in the hands—

Conrade. Off, coxcomb!



Dogberry. God's my life, where's the sexton? let him write
down the prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.
Thou naughty varlet!

Conrade. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.

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