SCENE II.-Another Room in Leonato's House.

Enter DON JOHN and BORACHIO.

D. JOHN. It is so; the count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.
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 estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.

D. JOHN. What proof shall I make of that?

BORA. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato: Look you for any other issue?

D. JOHN. Only to despite them, I will endeavour anything. 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 a love of your brother's honour, who hath made this match; and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid,—that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudioa; and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding: for, in the mean time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance, and all the preparation overthrown.

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

BORA. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame

me.

D. JOHN. I will presently go learn their day of marriage.

[Exeunt.

• Theobald and other editors would here read Borachio. The very expression term me shows that the speaker assumes that Margaret, by connivance, would call him by the name of Claudio.

BENE. BOY!

SCENE III. Leonato's Garden.

Enter BENEDICK and a 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. [Exit Boy.]
-I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much 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 man is Claudio. I have known when there was no
music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the
tabor and the pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile
afoot, to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving
the fashion of a new doublet 12. He was wont to speak plain, and to the
purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turned orthographer;
his words are a very 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 but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my
oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me
such a fool. One woman is fair; yet I am well: another is wise; yet I am
well: another virtuous; yet I am well: but 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 cheapen her; fair, or I'll never
look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of
good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour
it please God. Ha! the prince and monsieur Love! I will hide me in the
arbour.
[Withdraws.

Enter DON PEDRO, LEONATO, and CLAUDIO.

D. PEDRO. Come, shall we hear this musić?
CLAUD. Yea, my good lord:-How still the evening is,
As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!
D. PEDRO. See you where Bénédick hath hid himself?
CLAUD. O, very well, my lord: the music ended,
We'll fit the kid fox with a pennyworth.

Enter BALTHAZAR, with music.

D. PEDRO. Come, Balthazar, we 'll hear that song again.
BALTH. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.
D. PEDRO. It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection :-

I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. BALTH. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing: Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy; yet he woos; Yet will he swear, he loves.

D. PEDRO.

Nay, pray thee, come: Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,

Do it in notes.

BALTH.

Note this before my notes,

There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.

D. PEDRO. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks;
Note notes, forsooth, and noting"!

[Music.

BENE. Now, "Divine air! now is his soul ravished!-Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?-Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.

BALTHAZAR sings.

I.

BALTH. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more;

Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore;

To one thing constant never;
Then sigh not so,

But let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny;

Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

II.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, &c.

D. PEDRO. By my troth, a good song.
BALTH. And an ill singer, my lord.

D. PEDRO. Ha? no; no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift. BENE. [Aside.] An he had been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him: and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

D. PEDRO. Yea, marry [to CLAUDIO.];-Dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window.

BALTH. The best I can, my lord.

D. PEDRO. Do so: farewell. [Exit BALTHAZAR.] Come hither, Leonato : What

• The original copies read nothing.

was it you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick?

CLAUD. O, ay:-Stalk on, stalk on the fowl sits 13.

[Aside to PEDRO.] I did

never think that lady would have loved any man. LEON. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. BENE. Is 't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

[Aside. LEON. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an enraged affection,-it is past the infinite of thought. D. PEDRO. May be, she doth but counterfeit.

CLAUD. 'Faith, like enough.

LEON. O God! counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it.

D. PEDRO. Why, what effects of passion shows she?
CLAUD. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.

[Aside.

LEON. What effects, my lord! She will sit you,-You heard my daughter tell you how.

CLAUD. She did, indeed.

D. PEDRO. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.

LEON. I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.

BENE. [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.

CLAUD. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up.

[Aside.

D. PEDRO. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? LEON. No; and swears she never will: that's her torment. CLAUD. "T is true, indeed; so your daughter says: "Shall I," says she, "that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?" LEON. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him: for she 'll be up twenty times a night: and there will she sit in her smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper:-my daughter tells us all.

CLAUD. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.

LEON. O!-When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet.

CLAUD. That.

LEON. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpencea; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her:

Steevens ingeniously suggests that a farthing, and perhaps a halfpenny, was used to signify any small particle or division. So, in the character of the Prioress in Chaucer's Prologue to the Canterbury Tales:'

"That in hirre cuppe was no ferthing sene

Of grese, whan she dronken hadde hire draught."

Capell says that the allusion is to the cross of the old silver penny, which could be broken into halfpence or farthings, as Beatrice is said to have torn her letter.

"I measure him," says she, "by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.”

CLAUD. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses;—"O sweet Benedick!. God give me patience!" LEON. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true.

D. PEDRO. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.

CLAUD. To what end? He would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.

D. PEDRO. An he should, it were an alms to hang him: She's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.

CLAUD. And she is exceeding wise.

D. PEDRO. In everything, but in loving Benedick.

LEON. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.

D. PEDRO. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have daff'd all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say.

LEON. Were it good, think you?

CLAUD. Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die if he love her

not; and she will die ere she make 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 't is very possible he'll scorn it: for the man, as you know all, hath 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 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 a he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a 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.

• In the quarto, say.

In the quarto, most Christian-like.