THE SONG.

Sigh no more, ladies, figh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in fea, and one on shore,
To one thing conftant never:
Then figh not fa,

But let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny;
Converting all your founds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.
Sing no more of ditties, fing no mo
Of dumps fo dull and heavy;
The frauds of men were ever fo,
Since fummer first was leavy.
Then figh not fo, &c.

Pedro. By my troth, a good fong.
Balth. And an ill finger, my lord.

Pedro. Ha! no; no, faith; thou fing'ft well enough for a fhift.

Bene. [Afide.] An he had been a dog, that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd 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.

Pedro. Yea, marry.-Doft thou hear, Balthazar ? I pray thee, get us fome excellent mufic; for to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window. Balth. The best I can, my lord. [Exit BALTH. Pedro. Do fo: farewel.-Come hither, Leonato ; What was it you told me of to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with fignior Benedick?

Claud. O, ay ;-Stalk on, stalk on, the fowl fits. [Afide to Pedro.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that the fhould fo dote on fignior Benedick, whom the hath in all outward behaviours feem'd ever to abhor.

Bene. Is't poffible? Sits the wind in that corner?

[Afide. Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it but, that the loves him, with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought.

Pedro. May be the doth but counterfeit,

Claud. Faith, like enough.

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

Pedro. Why what effects of paffion fhews the ?

Claud. Bait the hook well: this fish will bite. [Afide. Leon. What effects, my lord? She will fit you,— You heard my daughter tell you how.

Claud. She did, indeed.

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

Leon. I would have fworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.

Bene. [Afide.] I fhould think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow fpeaks it: knavery cannot, fure, hide himself in fuch reverence.

Claud. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up. [Afide. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? Leon. No; and swears she never will: that's her torment.

Claud. 'Tis true, indeed; fo your daughter says :: Shall I, fays fhe, that have so oft encounter'd him with fcorn, write to him that I love him?

Leon. This fays the now, when she is beginning to write to him: for fhe'll be up twenty times a night; and there the will fit in her fmock, till the have writ a sheet of paper :-my daughter tells us all.

Claud. Now you talk of a fheet of paper, I remember a pretty jeft your daughter told us of.

Leon. Oh,-When the had writ it, and was reading it over, the found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet? Claud. That

Leon. O, fhe tore the letter into a thousand halfpence ; rail'd at herself, that she should be fo immodeft, to write to one, that the knew would flout her: I measure him, fays fhe, 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 fhe falls, weeps, fobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses ;-0 fweet Benedick! God give me patience!

Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says fo: and the ecftacy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is fometime afraid, fhe will do defperate outrage to herfelf: It is very true.

Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by fome 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.

Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him :She's an excellent fweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, fhe is virtuous.

Claud. And fhe is exceeding wife.

Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick.

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

Pedro. I would fhe had beftow'd this dotage on me; I would have daff'd all other refpects, and made her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will fay,

Leon. Were it good, think you?

Claud. Hero thinks furely fhe will die: for she says, fhe will die if he love her not; and fhe 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 accuftom'd croffnefs.

Pedro. She doth well if the fhould make tender of her love, 'tis very poffible, he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

Claud. He is a very proper man.

Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wife.

Pedro. He doth, indeed, fhew fome fparks that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

Claud. As Hector, I affure you and in the managing of quarrels you may fay he is wife; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a Chriftian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he muft neceffarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

Pedro. And so will he do ; for the man doth fear God, howfoever it seems not in him, by fome large jests he will make. Well, I am forry for your niece: Shall we go feek 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 impoffible; she may wear her heart out first.

Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well ; and I could with he would modeftly examine himself, to fee how much he is unworthy to have fo good a lady. Leon. My lord, will you walk ? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never truft my expectation. [Afide.

Pedro. Let there be the fame net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The iport will be, when they hold an opinion of one an other's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that I would fee, which will be merely a dumb fhew. Let us fend her to call him to dinner. [Afide.] [Exeunt.]

BENEDICK advances from the Arbour.

Bene. This can be no trick: The conference was fadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They feem to pity the lady; it feems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear, how I am cenfur'd: they fay, I will bear myfelf proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they fay too, that fhe will rather die than give any fign of affection.-I did never think to marry :-I muft not feem proud :-happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They fay, the lady is fair ;-'tis a truth, I can bear them witnefs. And virtuous ;-'tis fo, I cannot reprove it. And wife-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 fome odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd fo 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 fentences, and thefe paper-bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? No: the world must be peopled. When I faid, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice By this day, she's a fair lady : I do fpy fome marks of love in her.

Enter BEATRICE.

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

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

Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleasure then in the meffage ?

Beat. Yea, juft as much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choak a daw withal:-You have no ftomach, fignior; fare you well. [Exit.

Bene. Ha! Against my will I am fent to bid you come in to dinner; there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for thofe thanks, than you take pains to thank me ;-that's as much as to fay, Any pains that I take for you is as eafy 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.

ACT III. SCENE I.

Continues in the Orchard. Enter HERO, MARGÅRET, and URSULA.

Hero.

GOOD Margaret, run thee into the parlour ;
There thou shalt find my coufin Beatrice,
Propofing with the prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Urfula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole difcourfe
Is all of her; say, that thou overheardft us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honey-fuckles, ripen'd by the fun,
Forbid the fun to enter;-like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it :-there will fhe hide her,
To liften our purpose: This is thy office,
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.

[Exit.

Hero. Now, Urfula, when Beatrice doth come,

As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk muft only be of Benedick:
When I do name him, let it be thy part