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where the bachelors sit, and there five we as merry as the day is long.

Ant. Well, niece, [75 HERO 1 I trust you will be ruled by your father.

Beat. Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make courtesy, and say, Father, as it please you-but yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say, Father, as it please me.

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Beat. That I was disdainful,-and that I had my good wit out of the Hundred merry Tales, Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day-Well, this was signior Benedick that said so. fitted with a husband.

Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle; I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren; and truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.

Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told you if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.

Bene. What's he?

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

Beat. Did he never make you laugh?
Bene. I pray you, what is he?

Beat. Why, he is the prince's jester: a very duli fool; only his gift is in devising impossible⚫ slanders; none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; 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 be bad boarded me.

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

Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time: if the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the answer. For hear me, Hero; Wooing, wedding, and repent- Beat. Do, do; he'll but break a comparison or ing, is as a scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-two on me; which, peradventure, not marked, ot pace the first suit is hot and hasty, like a not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy; and Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wed- then there's a partridge' wing saved, for the fool ding, mannerly-modest, as a measure full of will eat no supper that night. [Music within.] state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, We must follow the leaders. and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinquepace faster and faste till be sink into his grave.

Leon. Cousin, you apprenend passing shrewd ly.

Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by day-light.

Leon. The revellers are entering; brother, make good room.

URSULA, and others masked.

D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend? +

Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am your's for the walk; and, especially, when I walk away.

D. Pedro. With me in your company?
Hero. I may say so, when I please.
D. Pedro. And when please you to say so?
Hero. When I like your favour; for God de-
fend, the lute should be like the case !

D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof: within the house is Jove.

Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd. D. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. [Takes her aside. Bene. Well, I would you did like me. Marg. So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many ill qualities.

Bene. Which is one?

Marg. I say my prayers aloud.

Bene. I love you the better; the hearers may cry, Amen.

Marg. God match me with a good dancer!
Balth. Amen.

Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, when the dance is done!-Answer, clerk.

Balth. No more words. the clerk is answered.

Urs. I know you well enough; you are signior Antonio.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head.

Bene. In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning.

[Dance. Then exeunt all but Don JoHN, BORACHIO, and CLAUDIO.

D. John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing.

D. John. Are you not signior Benedick?
Claud. You know me well; I am he.

D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamour'd on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth: you may do the part of au honest man in it.

Claud. How know you he loves her?

D. John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to night.

D. John. Come, let us to the banquet.

[Exeunt Don JOHN and BORACHIO. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.

'Tis certain so ;-the prince wooes for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Save in the office and affairs of love :
Therefore, all hearts in love use their own

Let every eye negociate for itself,

And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch,
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. §
This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I mistrusted not: Farewell, therefore,

Re-enter BENEDICK.
Bene. Count Claudio?
Claud. Yea, the same.

Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Cland. Whither?

Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, count. What fashion will you wear the garland of; About your neck, like un-an usurer's chain? or under your arm like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it oue way, for the prince hath got your Hero.

Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, less you were the very man: Here's his dry band up and down; you are he, you are he. Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urs. Come, come; do you think I do not

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Cland. I wish him joy of her.

now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you dro-the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a bair off the great Cham's beard; do you any em bassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy: You have uo employment for me?

Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest ver; so they sell bullocks. But did you think, the prince would have served you thus? Claud. I pray you, leave me.

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.

Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you.

[Erit. Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! Now will he creep into sedges.But, that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The prince's fool! -Ha! it may be, I go under that title, because I am merry.-Yea; but so; I am apt to do myself wrong: 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'l be revenged as I may.

Re-enter Don Pedro, Hero, and LEONATO.
D. Pedro. Now, signior, where's the count;
Did you see him?

Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of lady Fame. I found him bere as melancholy as a lodge in a warren; I told him, and, I think, told I him true, that your grace had got the good will of this young lady; and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped,

D. Pedro. To be whipped! What's his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it.

D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer. Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself; and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n his bird's nest.

D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.

D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.

Bene. O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my lady tongue. [Exit. D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of signior Benedick.

Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I give 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.

D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I bave brought count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.

D. Pedro. Why, how now, count? wherefore are you sad?

Claud. Not sad, my lord.
D. Pedro, How then? Sick ?
Claud. Neither my lord.

Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well: but civil, count; civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.

D. Pedro. l'faith, ady, 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, aud God give you joy!

Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it.

Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue. + Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy : I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by-Lady, as you are mine, I am your's: I give my_faith, you say honestly.

D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danced with her, told her, that she is much wronged by you.

Bene. Oh! she misused me past the endurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answered her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her: She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince's jester; that I was duller than a great thaw; buddling jest upon jest, with such 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, there were no living near her, she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed she would have made Hercules have turned spit yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her; you shall find her the infernal Até + in good apparel. I would to God, some scholar would conjure her; for, certainly, while she is bere, a man may live as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her.

Re-enter CLAUDIO and BEATRICE. D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. Bene. Will your grace 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; will fetch you a tooth-picker

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away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange.

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

D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat. Yes, 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.

Claud. And so she doth, cousin.

Beat. Good lord, for alliance !-Thus goe every one to the world but I, and I am sunburned: I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho! for a husband.

D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. Beat. 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.

D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady?

Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have an. other 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.

D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for out of question, you were born in a merry hour.

Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cry'd ; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.-Cousins, God give you joy. Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?

Beat. I cry you mercy, grace's pardon.

• Interest. players.

uncle.-By your [Exit BEATRICE. Turn a phrase among th G


she says, she will die if he love her not; and a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love a she will die ere she makes her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.

D. Pedro. She doth well if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'il scorn it; for the man as you know all, bath a contemptible spirit.

Claud. He is a very proper + man.

D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness.

Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mina, very wise. D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece: Shall we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love?

Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel.

Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear

her heart out first.

D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady.

Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, will never trust my expectation. [Aside. D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.

[Aside. [Exeunt Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEO


BENEDICK advances from the arbour. Bene. This can be no trick: The conference was sadly borne. 1-They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have their full bent. 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, I can bear them witness: 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 doth not the appetite alter? A nian loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age; Shall quips, and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? 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

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

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

Beat. 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.

Bene. You take pleasure in the message. Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal: -You have no stomach, siguior; fare you well. [Exit.

Bene. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you come to dinner-there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me-that's as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks :-If I no not take pity of her, I am a villain; If I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go get her picture. [Exit.


SCENE 1.-Leonato's Garden.
Hero, Good Margaret, run thee into the par

There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear, and tell her I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where boney suckles ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter ;-like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their

Against that power that bred it-there will she bide her,

To listen our purpose: This is thy office,
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, [Exit.



Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must ouly be of Benedick: When I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit My talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin;

Enter BEATRICE, behind.

For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.

Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait;
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture:
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose

Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.[They advance to the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; know, her spirits are as coy and wild As baggards of the rock.

Urs. But are you sure, That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? lord.

Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed Urs. And did they bid you tell ber of it, madam ?

Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint ber of it.

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As much as may be yielded to a man:
But nature never fram'd 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,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.

Urs. Sure, I think so;

And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Hero. Why, you speak truth: 1 never yet saw

How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,

But she would spell him backward: if fair faced,
She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut;

If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out;
And never gives to truth and virtue, that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.

Hero. No: not to be so odd, and from all


As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable :
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; Oh! she would laugh

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She cannot be so much without true judgment,
(Having so swift + and excellent a wit,
As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as signior Benediek.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.


Urs. I pray you be not angry with me, madam,

Speaking my fancy; signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument, I and valur,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name. Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.

When are you married, madam ?

Hero. Why, every day ;-to-morrow: Come, go in ;

I'll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel,
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.
Urs. She's lim'd I warrant you; we have
caught her, madamı,

Hero If it prove so, then loving goes by haps : Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [Exeunt HERO and URSULA.

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BEATRICE advances.

Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?

Stand I condemn'd 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.


SCENE IJ.-A room in LEONATO's House.


D. Pedro. 1 do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.

D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leon. So say I; methinks, you are sadden.
Claud. I hope, he be in love.

D. Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love if he be sad, he wants money.

Bene. I have the tooth-ach.

D. Pedro. Draw it.

Bene. Hang it !

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.

D. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach? Leon. Where is but a bumour, or a worm ? Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it.

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love.

D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day; a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as, a German from the waist downward, all slops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he


Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: he brushes his bat o' mornings; What should that bode ?

D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's?

Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek bath already stuffed tennis-balls.

Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.

D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet: Can you smell him out by that?

Claud. That's as much as to say, The sweet youth's in love.

D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?

D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I bear what they say of him.

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops.

Large loose breeches

D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited | mation do you mightily hold up) to a contami lady. nated stale, such a one as Hero.

Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad, but when she sleeps and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.

D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. Leon. Oh! by no means; she mocks all her wooers out of suit. D. Pedro. She Benedick.

were an excellent wife for

Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad. D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?

Claud. To-morrow my lord: Time goes on crutches, till love have all his rites.

Leon. 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.

D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring signior Benedick, and the lady 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 three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction.

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

Claud. And I, my lord.

D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband.

D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhope. fullest husband that I know: thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick :-and 1, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, be shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift.

[Excunt. SCENE 11.-Another Room in LEONATO'S


Enter Don JOHN and BORACHIO. D. John. It is so; the count Claudio marry the daughter of Leonato.


D. John. What proof shall I make of that? vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato : Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to Look you for any other issue?

D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing:

Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the count Claudio, alone: tell them, that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as-in love of your brother's honour reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with who hath made this match; and his friend's covered thus. They will scarcely believe this the semblance of a maid,-that you have diswithout trial offer them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her hear Margaret term me Borachio; and bring chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; them to see this, the very night before the inso fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; tended wedding: for, in the mean time, I will and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown.

can, I will put it in practice:
D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it
the working this, and thy fee is a thousand
Be cunning in

Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me.

D. John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exeunt.


Enter BENEDICK and a BOY.

Bene. Boy.

Boy. Signior.

Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book; bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. I am here already, Sir.

Bene. I know that;-but I would have thee hence, and here again. much wonder, that one man, seeing how much [Exit Boy.]-I do another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours 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 mau is Claudio. I have known, when there was no music with him but the drum and fife; and now he would rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known, when he would have walked ten miles afoot, to see a shall good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, he turn'd orthographer; his words are a very like an honest man, and a soldier; and now is fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn, take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster but love may transform me to an oyster ; but I'll of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One I am well: another virtuous; yet I am well: but woman is fair, yet I am well: another is wise; yet 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 or come not near me; noble, or not I for an ancheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, and her bair shall be of what colour it please gel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, I will hide me in the arbour. God. Ha! the prince and monsieur Love! [Withdraws.

Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage ?

Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

D. John. Show me briefly how. Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero.

D. John. I remember. Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window.

D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?

Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose esti

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D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music ?

• Pretend.

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