Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. D. Pedro.He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are Leon. And I take him to be valiant. like wit. 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 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,

АСТ III.

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; her, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone! Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never [Exit. trust my expectation. [Aside. Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, 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 Of the false sweet bait, that we lay for it.

[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.

[They advance to the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; know, her spirits are as coy and wild, As haggards of the rock.

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 of love! 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, 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, signior; fare you well.

[Exit.

But nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
Disdain and scoru 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: I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd,
She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why nature, drawing of an antic,
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 fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable:
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly :
It were a better death, than die with mocks;
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say !
Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion:
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with. One doth not know,
How much an ill word may empoison liking.
Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong!
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 Benedick.
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 and valour,
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,
madam.

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

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 sadder.
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 humour, 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 is.

Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat 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 hath 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 melancholy.
Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?
D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which,
I hear what they say of him.

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now
crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops.
D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him;
conclude, conclude, he is in love.

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.

D. Pedro. That would I know too; I warrant, one that knows him not.

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him.

D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach.-Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobbyhorses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.

[Exit. Claud. 'Tis even so: Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another, when they meet. Enter Don JOHN.

SCENE II.-A room in Leonato's house. Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LEONATO. D. Pedro. I 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

D. John. My lord and brother, God save you!
D. Pedro. Good den, brother!
D.John.If your leisure served, I would speak with you.
D. Pedro. In private?

D. John. If it please you:- yet count Claudio may
hear; for what I would speak of, concerns him.
D. Pedro. What's the matter?

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

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, is most tolerable and not to be endured.

2 Watch. We will rather sleep, than talk; we know what belongs to a watch.

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

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.

I

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. Hagh 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.

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.

Verg. 'Tis very true.

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 us go sit here upon the church-bench till two,and then all to-bed!

2 Watch. Both which, master constable,Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours: I pray 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.

Bora. Conrade, I say!

Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought, there would a scab follow.

Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy tale.

Bora. Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.

Watch. [Aside.] Some treason, masters; yet stand close!

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

Con.Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear? Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible any villainy should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will.

Con. I wonder at it.

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

Con. Yes, it is apparel.
Bora. I mean, the fashion.

Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.

Bora. Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. But see'st thou not, what a deformed thief this fashion is? Watch. I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief this seven year; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name.

Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? Con. No; 'twas the vane on the house. Bora. See'st thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods, between fourteen and five and-thirty? sometime, fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy painting; sometime, like god Bel's priests in the old churchwindow; sometime, like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his cod-piece seems as massy, as his club?

Con. All this I see; and 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?

Bora. Not so neither: but know, that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times goodnight.-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.

Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero? Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew, she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander, that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw over-night, and send her home again without a husband.

1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name,stand! 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable: we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery, that ever was known in the commonwealth. 1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them; I know him, he wears a a lock.

Con. Masters, masters.

1 Watch. Never speak; we charge you, let us obey you to go with us.

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

Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you.Come, we'll obey you. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-A room in Leonato's house. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise.

Urs. I will, lady.

Hero. And bid her come hither.
Urs. Well.

[Exit Ursula. Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato were better. Hero. No, I pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. Marg. By my troth, it's not so good; and I warrant, your cousin will say so.

Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another; I'll wear none but this.

Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the duchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so.

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.

Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours: cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced with silver; set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a bluish tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, your's is worth ten on't.

Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is ex-
ceeding heavy!
Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a man.
Hero. Fye upon thee! art not ashamed?
Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is
not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your
lord honourable without marriage? I think you would
have me say, saving your reverence, a husband: an
bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend
nobody. Is there any harm in-the heavier for a hus-
band? None, I think, an it be the right husband, and
the right wife; otherwise 'tis light,and not heavy. Ask
my lady Beatrice else, here she comes.

Enter BEATrice.
Hero. Good morrow, coz!
Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero!
Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in the sick tune?
Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks.
Marg. Clap us into-Light o' love; that goes with-
out a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it.
Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels!-then, if
your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall
lack no barns.

Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.

Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill-hey ho! Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star.

Beat. What means the fool, trow?

Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!

Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume.

Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold.

Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have

2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I you profess'd apprehension?

warrant you.

Con, Masters,

Marg. Ever since you left it: doth not my wit become me rarely?

Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.

Marg. Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus.

Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; Imeant, plain holy-thistle. You may think, perchance, that I think you are in love: nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging and how you may be converted, I know not; but methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do. Beat. What pace is this, that thy tongue keeps? Marg. Not a false gallop.

Re-enter URSULA.

Urs. Madam, withdraw; the prince, the count, signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church.

Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula! [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Another room in Leonato's house. Enter LEONATO, with DOGBERRY and VERGES. Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour? Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you, that decerus you nearly.

Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see 'tis a busy time with me.

Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir.
Verg. Yes, intruth it is, sir.

Leon. What is it, my good friends?

Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows.

Dogb. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two auspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship. Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me; I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you. Dogb. It shall be suffigance.

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go; fare you well!
Enter a Messenger.

Mess.My lord,they stay for you to give your daughter
to her husband.
Leon. I will wait upon them; I am ready.

[Exeunt Leonato and Messenger. Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol; we are now to examination these men. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dogb.We will spare for no wit, I warrant you ;here's that [Touching his forehead.] shall drive son them to a non com: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt.

АСТ IV.

some of

SCENE I.— The inside of a church.
Enter Don PEDRO, Don JOHN, LEONATO, Friar, CLAU-
DIO, BENEDICK, HERO, and BEATRICE, etc.
Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief; only to the
plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their
particular duties afterwards.

Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?
Claud. No.

Leon. To be married to her, friar; you come to mar-ry her.

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

count?

Hero. I do.

Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utter it.

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

Friar. Know you any, count?

Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man
living, that is an old man, and no honester than I.
Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neigh-what men daily do! not knowing what they do!
bour Verges.

Leon. I dare make his answer, none.

Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do!

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, ifI were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.

Leon. Allthy tediousness on me! ha!

Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis: for I hear as good exclamation on your worship, as of any man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.

Verg. And so am I.

Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as rant knaves as any in Messina.

Bene. How now! Interjections? Why, then some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he!

Claud. Stand thee by, friar. -Father, by your leave;
Will you with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid, your daughter?

Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.
Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankful-

There, Leonato, take her back again;
Give not this rotten orange to your friend;
She's but the sign and semblance of her honour:
ar-Behold, how like a maid she blushes here:
O, what authority and show of truth
Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood, as modest evidence,
To witness simple virtue? 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:
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Claud. Not to be married,

Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking; as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out; God help us! it is a world to see!-Well said, i'faith, neighbour Verges!-well, God's a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind :--an honest soul, i'faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but, God is to be worshipped: all men are not alike; alas, good neighbour!

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.
Dogb. Gifts, that God gives.
Leon. Imust leave you.

Not knit my soul to an approved wanton.
Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,