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We'll fit the kid fox with a penny-worth.

Claud. 'Faith, like enough.
Enter BALTHAZAK, with music.

Leon. () God! counterfeit! There never was coun-
D.Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. terfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as
Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice she discovers it.
To slander music any more than once.

D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she?
D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.[ Aside.
To put a strange face on his own perfection. — Leon. What effects, my lord ? She will sit you, –
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more!

You heard my daughter tell you how.
Baith. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; Claud. She did, indeed.
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit

D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I To her he thinks not worthy; yet he wooes; would have thought her spirit had been invincible Yet will he swear, he loves.

against all assaults of affection. D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come:

Leon. I would have sworn, it had, my lord; especially Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,

against Benedick. Do it in notes !

Bene. [.Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that Balth. Note this before my notes,

the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting. sure, hide itself in such reverence. D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets, that he Claud.He hath ta’en the infection; hold it up.[Aside. speaks ;

D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Note, notes, forsooth, and noting! [Music. Benedick?

Bene. Now, Divine air! now is his soul ravished !- Leon. No; and swears she never will: that's her Is it not strange, that sheeps' guts should hale souls torment. out of men's bodies ?–Well, a horn for my money, Claud. 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says ; when all's done.

Shall I, says she, that have so oft encountered him

with scorn, write to him, that I love him? Balthazar sings.

Leon. This says she now, when she is beginning to I.

write to him: for she'll be up twenty times a night; and Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

there will she sit in her smock, till she have writ a Men were deceivers ever;

sheet of paper :-my daughter tells us all. One foot in sea, and one on shore;

Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember To one thing constant never :

a pretty jest your daughter told us of. Then sigh not so,

Leon. o!-When she had writ it, and was reading it But let them go,

over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the And be you blith and bonny ;

Claud. That.

sheet?Converting all your sounds of woe

Leon, O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfInto, Hey nonny, nonny.

pence; railed at herself, that she should be so immoII.

dest to write to one that she knew would flout her: 1 Sing no more ditties, sing no mo

measure him, says she, by my own spirit: for I should of dumps so dull and heavy;

Nout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him,
The frauds of men were ever so,

I should.
Since summer first was leavy.

Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps,
Then sigh not so, etc.

sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses :

O sweet Benedick! God give me patience! D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song!

Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and Balth. And an ill singer, my lord.

the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my D.Pedro.Ha?

no; no, faith; thou singest well enough daughter is sometime afraid, she will do a desperate for a shift.

outrage to herself; it is very true. Beve. (Aside.) An he had been a dog, that should D. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by have howled thus, they would have hanged him: and, some other, if she will not discover it. I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as Claud. To what end? He would but make a sport of lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague it, and torment the poor lady worse. could have come after it.

D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him. D. Pedro. Yea, marry. (To Claudio.] — Dost thou She's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspihear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent cion, she is virtuous. music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the Claud. And she is exceeding wise. lady Hero's chamber-window.

D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Balth. The best I can, my lord.

Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in D. Pedro. Do so: farewell! (Exeunt Balthazar and so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood music.] Come hither, Leonato! What was it you hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in love cause, being her uncle and her guardian. with signior Benediek?

D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on Claud. O, ay !-- Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. me; I would have dall'd all other respects, and made (Aside to Pedro.]I did never think that lady would her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and have loved any man,

hear what he will say. Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that Leon. Were it good, think you? she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom she hath Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die: for shes

e says, in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. she will die, if he love her not; and she will die, ere Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that coruer? she makes her love known, and she will die, if he woo

(Aside. her, rather than she will’bate one breath of her accuLeon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to stomed crossness. think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged af- D. Pedro. She doth well:if she should make tender fectiou,- it is past the infinite of thought.

of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

a

ACT III.]

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Claud. He is a very proper man.
D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happi-

ness.

Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, 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 see 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.

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 do not [Exit. take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go get her picture."

АСТ

III.

her,

SCENE I.-Leonato's garden. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour; 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 honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter;-like favourites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it:-there will she hide To listen our propose. This is thy office; Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone! Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. [Exit. Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never [Aside. Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, trust my expectation. D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; As we do trace this alley up and down, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman Our talk must only be of Benedick. carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opi- When I do name him, let it be thy part nion of another's dotage, and no such matter; that's To praise him more than ever man did merit: the scene that I would see, which will be merely a My talk to thee must be, how Benedick dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. 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 nothing [They advance to the bower. Of the false sweet bait, that we lay for it.No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; know, her spirits are as coy and wild, As haggards of the rock.

[Aside.

[Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato. BENEDICK advances from the arbour. Bene. This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. 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 man 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 a fair lady! I do spy some marks of love in her.

Enter BEATRICE.

I

Urs. But are you sure,
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed lord.
Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
Hero. O God oflove! I know, he doth deserve

Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in As much as may be yielded to a man:
to dinner.

Bene. Fair Beatrice, Ithank 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, signior; fare you well.

[Exit.

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;

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And therefore, certainly, it were not good,

with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.

of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he Hero, Why, you speak truth : I never yet saw man, hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, little hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd, as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. If black, why nature, drawing of an antic,

Bene. Gallants, Iam not as I have been. Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed :

Leon. So sayI; methinks, you are sadder. If low, an agate very vilely cut:

Claud. I hope, he be in love. If speaking, why a vane, blown with all winds; D. Pedro. Mang him, truant! there's no true drop If silent, why a block, moved with none.

of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love: if he be So turns she every man the wrong side out

sad, he wants money. And never gives to truth and virtue that,

Bene. I have the tooth-ach. Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

D. Pedro. Draw it. Urs. Sure, sure, such earping is not commendable. Bene. Hang it! Hero. No: not to be so odd, and from all fashions, Claud. You must hang it first, and drawit afterwards, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable:

D. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach? But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,

Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm? She'd mock me into air; 0, she would laugh me Bene. Well, everyone can master a grief, but he that Out of myself, press me to death with wit.

has it. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:

D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, It were a better death, than die with mocks;

unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; Which is as bad as die with tickling.

as,to be a Dutchman to-day; a Freuchman to-morrow; Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say! or in the shape of two countries at once, as, a German Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,

from the waist downward, all slops; and a Spaniard And counsel him to fight against his passion: from the hip upward, no doublet: unless he have a And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders fancy to this foolery,as it appears he hath, he is no fool To stain my cousin with. One doth not know, for fancy, as you would have it appear he is. How muchan ill word may empoison liking.

Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there Urs. 0, do not do your cousin such a wrong! is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat o’ morShe cannot be so much without true judgment, nings; what should that bode? (Having so swift and excellent a wit,

D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse

Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with So rare a gentleman, as signior Benediek.

him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already Hero. He is the only man of Italy,

stuffed tennis-balls. Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, loss of a beard. Speaking my fancy; signior Benedick,

D. Pedro. Nay, herubs himself with civet. Can you For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, smell him out by that? Goes foremost in report throngh Italy.

Claud. That's as much as to say, The sweet yonth's Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. in love.

Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is melancholy. When are you married, madam?

Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face? Hero. Why, every day;-to-morrow! Come, go in; D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I'll show thee some attires ; and have thy counsel, I hear what they say of him. Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now Urs. She's lim’d, I warrant you; we have caught her, crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops. madam.

D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him; Hero. Ifit prove so, then loving goes by haps: conclude, conclude, he is in love. Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.

[Exeunt Hero and Ursula. D. Pedro. That would I know too ; I warrant, one BEATRICE advances.

that knows him not. Beat. What fire is in mine ears? can this be true? Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite

Stand I condemnd for pride and scorn so much? of all, dies for him. Contempt, farewell! and, maiden pride, adieu ! D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. No glory lives behind the back of such.

Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach.-Old And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee;

signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobbyIf thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee horses must not hear.[Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. To bind our loves up in a holy band :

D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about For others say, thou dost deserve; and I

Beatrice. Believe it better than reportingly.

(Exit. Claud. 'Tis even so: Hero and Margaret have by this

played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two SCENE II.- Aroom in Leonato's house. bears will not bite one another, when they meet. Enter Don Pedko, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.

Enter Don John. D. Pedro. I do but stay, till your marriage be con- D. John. My lord and brother, God save you ! summate, and then I go toward Arragon.

D. Pedro. Good den, brother ! Claud. I'll bring you thither,mylord, if you'll vouch- D.John.If your leisure served, I would speak with you. safe me.

D. Pedro. In private? D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the D. John. If it please you :- yet count Claudio may new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new hear; for what I would speak of concerns him. coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold D. Pedro. What's the matter?

ACT III.]

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

D. John. Means your lordship to be married to- comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man
[To Claudio. stand, in the prince's name.
morrow?

D. Pedro. You know, he does.

D. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know.

Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, discover it.

D. John. You may think, I love you not; let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think, he holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill-spent, and labour ill-bestowed!

D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter?

2 Watch. How if he will not stand?

Dogb. Why, then take no note of him, but let him
go; and presently call the rest of the watch together,
and thank God, you are rid of a knave.
Verg. If he will not stand, when he is bidden, he is
none of the prince's subjects.

Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but
the prince's subjects. -You shall also make no noise
in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and talk,
2 Watch. We will rather sleep, than talk; we know
is most tolerable and not to be endured.
what belongs to a watch.

D. John. I came hither to tell you; and, circum- Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most
that your bills be not stolen !
stances shortened, (for she hath been too long a talk-quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should
offend: only have a care,
ing of,) the lady is disloyal.
-Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid
Claud. Who? Hero?

D. John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, those, that are drunk, get them to bed.
every man's Hero.
Claud. Disloyal?

D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not, till further warrant go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamber-window entered; even the night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.

Claud. May this be so?

D. Pedro. I will not think it.

D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know: if you will follow me, I will show you enough; and, when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly!

Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where should wed, there will I shame her.

D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.

D. John. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself.

D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned!
Claud. Omischief strangely thwarting!
D. John. O plague right well prevented!

So will you say, when you have seen the sequel.[Exeunt.
SCENE III.-A Street.

Enter DOGBERRY and VERGES, with the Watch.
Dogb. Are you good men and true?
Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suf-
fer salvation, body and soul.

Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them,if they should have any allegiance in them,being chosen for the prince's watch.

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.

Dogb. First, who think you the most desertless man to be constable?

1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for they can write and read.

Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal: God hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.

I

2 Watch. How if they will not?

Dogb. Why, then, let them alone,till they are sober; if they make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not the men you took them for. 2 Watch. Well, sir.

Dogb. 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.

2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?

Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but, I think, they that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your com

pany.

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

Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; much more a man, who hath any honesty in him. Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it.

2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not

hear us?

Dogb. Why then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe, that will not hear her lamb, when it baes, will never answer a calf, when he bleats.

true.

Verg. 'Tis very Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, constable, are to present the prince's own person; if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him.

Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that, I think, he cannot. Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man that knows the statutes, he may stay him: marry, not without the prince be willing: for,indeed, the watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will.

.

Verg. By'rlady, I think it be so.

Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good-night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and goodnight.-Come, neighbour!

2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let all to-bed! us go sit here upon the church-bench till two,and then

Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours: I pray 2 Watch. Both which, master constable,Dogb. You have; I knew, it would be your answer. you, watch about signior Leonato's door; for the wedWell, for your favour, sir, why give God thanks, ding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil toand make no boast of it;and for your writing and read-night. Adieu, be vigilant, I beseech you. ing, let that appear, when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern! This is your charge; you shall

[Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.
Enter BORACHIO and CONRADE.
Bora. What! Conrade,-
Watch. Peace, stir not!

[Aside.

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Bora, Conrade, I say!

1 Watch. Never speak; we charge you, let us obey Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow.

you to go with us. Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought, there Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, would a scab follow.

being taken up of these men's bills. Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and now for- Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. ward with thy tale.

Come, we'll obey you.

[Exeunt. Boru. Stand thee close then under this penthouse, SCENE IV.–Aroom in Leonato's house. for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, Enter Hero, MARGARET, and URSULA. utter all to thee.

Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and Watch. (Aside.) Some treason, masters; yet stand desire her to rise. close !

Urs. I will, lady. Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a Hero. And bid her come hither. thousand ducats.

Urs. Well.

[Exit Ursula. Con.Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear? | Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato were better. Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible Hero. No, I pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. any villainy should be so rich ; for when rich villains Marg. By my troth, it's not so good; and I warrant, have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what your cousin will say so. price they will

Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another; I'll Con. I wonder at it.

wear none but this. Bora. That shows, thou art unconfirmed. Thou Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most cloak, is nothing to a man.

rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the duchess of Milan's Con. Yes, it is apparel.

gown, that they praise so. Bora. I mean, the fashion.

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.

Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect Bora. Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. But of yours: cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced with silsee'st thou not, what a deformed thief this fashion is? ver; set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and

Watch. I know that Deformed; he has been a vile skirts round, underborne with a bluish tinsel : but thief this seven year; he goes up and down like a for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, gentleman: I remember his name.

your's is worth ten on't. Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody?

Hero. God give me joy to wearit, for my heart is exCon. No; 'twas the vane on the house.

ceeding heavy! Bora. See'st thou not, I say, what a deformed thief Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a man.

I this fashion is ? how giddily he turns about all the hot Hero. Fye upon thee! art not ashamed? bloods, between fourteen and five and-thirty ? some- Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is time, fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your reechy painting, sometime, like god Bel's priests in lord honourable without marriage? I think you would the old charchwindow; sometime, like the shaven have me say, saving your reverence,--a husband : an Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend his cod-piece seems as massy, as his club?

nobody. Is there any harm in-the heavier for a husCon. All this I see; and see, that the fashion wears band? None, I think, an it be the right husband, and out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thy- the right wife; otherwise’tis light and not heavy. Ask self giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted my lady Beatrice else, here she comes. out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?

Enter BEATRICE. Bora. Not so neither: but know, that I have to- Hero. Good morrow, coz! night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman, Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero! by the name of Hero; she leans me ont at her mistress's Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in the sick tune? chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good- Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. night.-Itellthis tale vilely:-I should first tell thee, how Marg. Clap us into-Light o’love ; that goes withthe Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted, and out a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. placed, and possessed by my master Don John, saw Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels !- then, if afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter. your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero? lack no barns. Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with the devil my master knew, she was Margaret; and my heels. partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill:-hey ho! by my villainy, which did confirm any slander, that Don Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? John had made, away went Claudio enraged ; swore Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morn- Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no ing at the temple, and there, before the whole congre- more sailing by the star. gation, shame her with what he saw over-night, and Beat. What means the fool, trow? send her home again without a husband.

Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their 1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name,stand! heart's desire ! 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable : Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an have here recovered the most dangerous piece of excellent perfume. lechery, that ever was known in the commonwealth. Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell.

1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them; I know Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching him, he wears a lock.

of cold. Con. Masters, masters.

Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, 1 you profess'd apprehension? warrant you.

Marg. Ever since you left it: doth not my wit beCon, Masters,

come me rarely?

we

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