Here. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, It were a better death than die with mocks ;

As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only 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
nothing

Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it

[They advance to the bower.
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know, her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock.1

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 entreat 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.

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 in 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 furnishi me to-morrow.

Urs. She's iim'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?

Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!

Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,

As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

Hero. O god of love! I know, he doth deserve
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: 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:

No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Bencdick, 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.

[Exit.

Enter

SCENE II-A room in Leonato's house.
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 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 bowstring, and the little hangman dares 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 after wards.

D. Pedro, What? sigh for the tooth-ach?

(5) Ensnar'd with birdlime,

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 a Lo-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as a German from the waist downward, all slop; 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 woran, 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 his 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 hobby-horses must not hear.

[Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.

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.

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 tomorrow? [To Claudio.

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?

D. John. I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long talking of,) the lady is disloyal. Claud. Who? Hero?

D. John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, 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 Wonyou of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. der not till further warrant: go but with me tonight, 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 I 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. O mischief 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 suffer 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 desartless 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 wellfavoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.

2 Watch. Both which, master constable,——

Dogb. You have; I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, 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 D. John. I know not that, when he knows what is your charge; you shall comprehend all vagrom I know. men: you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's name.

D. Pedro. You know he docs.

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 (1) Large loose breccles.

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 now forward with thy tale.

but the prince's subjects:-you shall also make no Bora. Stand thee close then under this penthouse, noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endured.

Con. All this I see; and see, that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man: but art not Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, con- thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou stable, are to present the prince's own person; if hast shifted out of thy tale to tell me of the you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. fashion?

Bora. Not so neither: but know, that I have toDogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewothat knows the statues, he may stay him: marry, man, by the name of Hero: she leans me out at not without the prince be willing: for, indeed, the her mistress' chamber-window, bids me a thousand watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence times good night,-I tell this tale vilely:-I should to stay a man against his will.'

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, Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours: I but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any pray you, watch about signior Leonato's door; for slander that Don John had made, away went Clauthe wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great dio enraged: swore he would meet her as he was coil to-night: adieu, be vigilant, I beseech you.

[Aside. stand.

Con. Masters, masters.

Marg. Well, an you be no turned Turk, there's

2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, no more sailing by the star.

I warrant you.

Con. 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.

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

SCENE IV-A room in Leonato's house. En- long have you profess'd apprehension?

ter 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, 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. 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 distilled 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; I meant, 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 Marg. like the new tire within excellently, I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, inif the hair were a thought browner: and your deed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart gown's a most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you duchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so. will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become Marg. By my troth it's but a night-gown in re- man: he swore he would never marry; and yet spect of yours: Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat withwith silver; set with pearls, down sleeves, side-out grudging: and how you may be converted, I sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a bluish know not; but methinks, you look with your eyes tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excel-as other women do. lent fashion, your's is worth ten on't.

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.

Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy!

Marg. Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of

a man.

a

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 Mez, good Ursula.

Hero. Fic 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 inthe heavier for a husband? None, I think, an if it be the right husband, and the right wife; otherwise, 'tis light, and not heavy: Ask my lady Bea-bour? trice 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?

[Exeun

SCENE V.-Another room in Leonato's house.
Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.
Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh-

Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you, that decerns you nearly.

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

Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir.
Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir.

Leon. What is it, my good friends?

Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little of Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not Marg. Clap us into-Light o' love; that goes so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. but, in faith, honest, as the skin between his brows. Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels!- Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any then if your husband have stables enough, you'll man living, that is an old man, and no honester 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.4
(2) Head-dress,

(1) A kind of ruff.
(3) Long-sleeves, (4) i, e, for an ache or pain,

'faith, neighbour Verges:-well, God's a good May counterpoise this rich and precious gift. man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. behind:-an honest soul, i'faith, sir; by my troth Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankhe is, as ever broke bread: but, God is to be worfulness.shipped: all men are not alike; alas, good neigh-There, Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend;

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of She's but the sign and semblance of her honour :

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Not knit my soul to an approved wanton.