John. I will make all use of it, for I ufe it only. Who comes here? what News, Borachio? Enter Borachio. Bora. I came yonder from a great Supper; the Prince, your Brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended Marriage. John. Will it ferve for any Model to build Mifchief on? What is he for a Fool that betroths himself to Unquietnefs? Bora. Marry it is your Brother's right Hand. John. Who, the most exquifite Claudio ? Bora. Even he. John. A proper Squire; and who, and who, which way looks he? Bora. Marry on Hero, the Daughter and Heir of Leonato. John. A very forward March-chick, how come you to this? Bora. Being entertain'd for a Perfumer, as I was fmoaking a mufty Room, comes me the Prince and Claudio, Hand in Hand in fad Conference: I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed upon that the Prince fhould woo Hero for himself, and having obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio. John. Come, come, let us thither, this may prove Food to my Displeasure, that young Start-up hath all the Glory of my Overthrow: If I can crofs him any way, I blefs my felf every way; you are both fure, and will affift me? Conr. To the Death, my Lord. John. Let us to the great Supper, their Cheer is the greater that I fubdu'd, would the Cook were of my Mind: Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your Lordship. ACT II. [Exeunt. I. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Innogen, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret Leon. and Urfula. WAS. I faw him not. AS not Count John here at Supper? Ant. Beat. How tartly that Gentleman looks; I never can see him, but I am Heart-burn'd an Hour after. Hero. Hero. He is of a melancholy Difpofition. Beat. He were an excellent Man that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedick; the one is too like an Image, and fays nothing; and the other too like my Lady's eldeft Son, evermore tatling. Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's Tongue in Count John's Mouth, and half Count John's Melancholy in Signior Benedick's Face Beat. With a good Leg, and a good Foot, Uncle, and Mony enough in his Purle, fuch a Man would win any Woman in the World, if he could get her good Will. Leon. By my troth, Neice, thou wilt never get thee a Husband, if thou be fo fhrewd of thy Tongue. Ant. In Faith fhe's too curft. Beat. Too curft is more than curft, I fhall leffen God's fending that Way; for it is faid, God fends a curst Cow fhort Horns, but to a Cow too curft he fends none. Leon. So, by being too curft, God will fend no Horns. Beat. Juft, if he fend me no Husband, for the which Bleffing, I am at him upon my Knees every Morning and Evening: Lord, I could not endure a Husband with a Beard on his Face, I had rather lye in Woollen. Leon. You may light upon a Husband that hath no Beard. Beat. What should I do with him? drefs him in my Apparel, and make him my Waiting-Gentlewoman? He that hath a Beard is more than a Youth, and he that hath no Beard is lefs than a Man; and he that is more than a Youth, is not for me; and he that is lefs than a Man, I am not for him: Therefore, I will even take fix Pence in earneft of the Bearherd, and lead his Apes into Hell. Leon. Well then, go you into Hell. Beat. No, but to the Gate, and there will the Devil meet me like an old Cuckold, with his Horns on his Head, and fay, get you to Heav'n, Beatrice, get you to Heav'n, here's no Place for you Maids; fo deliver I up my Apes, and away to St. Peter; for the Heav'ns, he fhews me where the Batchelors fit, and there live we as merry as the Day is long. Ant. Well Neice, I truft you will be rul'd by your Father. [To Hero. Beat. Yes, Faith, it is my Coufin's Duty to make Curt fie, and fay, as it please you; but yet for all that Coufin, let him be a handfome Fellow, or elfe make another Curtfie, and fay, Father, as it pleafes me. Leon. Well, Neice, I hope to see you one Day fitted with a Husband. Beat. Not 'till God make Men of fome other Mettal than Earth; wou'd it not grieve a Woman to be over-mafter'd with a Piece of valiant Duft? to make account of her Life to a Clod of wayward Marle? No, Uncle, I'll none; Adam's Sons are Brethren, and truly I hold it a Sin to match in my Kindred. Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you; if the Prince do follicit you in that kind, you know your Anfwer. you Beat. The Fault will be in the Mufick, Coufin, ifj be not woo'd in good time; if the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing, and fo dance out the Anfwer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch Jig, a Measure, and a Cinquepace; The firft Suit is hot and hafty, like a Scotch Jig, (and full as fantastical) the Wedding mannerly modest, (as a Measure) full of State and Anchentry; and then comes Repentance, and with his bad Legs falls into the Cinquepace fafter and fafter, 'till he finks into the Grave. Leon. Coufin you apprehend paffing fhrewdly. Beat. I have a good Eye, Uncle, I can fee a Church by Day Light. Leon. The Revellers are entring, Brother; make good room. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your Friend? Hero. So you walk foftly, and look fweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the Walk, and efpecially when I walk away. Pedre. With me in your Company. Hero. I may fay fo when I please. Pedro. And when will you please to say fo? Hero. When I like your Favour; for God defend the Lute should be like the Cafe. Pedro. My Vifor is Philemon's Roof, within the House is Love. Hero. Hero. Why then your Vifor fhould be thatch'd. Bene. Well, I would you did like me. Marg. So would not I for your own Sake, for I have many ill Qualities. Bene. Which is one? Marg. I fay my Prayers aloud. Bene. I love you the better, the Hearers may cry, Amen. Marg. God match me with a good Dancer. Balth. Amen. Marg. And God keep him out of my Sight when the Dance is done: Afwer Clerk. Balth. No more, Words, the Clerk is answer'd. Urfu. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio. Anth. At a Word, I am not. Urfu. I know you by the wagling of your Head. Urfu. You could never do him fo ill Will, unless you were the very Man: Here's his dry Hand up and down, you are he, you are he. Anth. At a Word, I am no". Urfu. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent Wit? Can Virtue hide it felf? Go to, mum, you are he, Graces will appear, and there's an end. Beat. Will you not tell me who told you fo? Beat. Nor will you tell me who you are? Bene. Not now. Beat. That I was difdainful, and that I had my good Wit out of the hundred merry Tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that faid fo. Bene. What's he? Beat. I'am fure you know him well enough. Bene. Not I, believe me. Beat. Did he never make you laugh? Bene. I pray you what is he? Beat. Why, he is the Prince's Jefter, a very dull Fool, only his Gift is, in devifing impoffible Slanders? none but Libertines delight in him, and the Condemnation is not not in his Wit, but in his Villany; for he both pleaseth Men, and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him; I am fure he is in this Fleet, I would he had boarded me. Bene. When I know the Gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. Beat. Do, do, he'll but break a Comparison or two on me, which peradventure (not mark'd, or not laugh'd at) ftrikes him into Melancholy, and then there's a Partridge Wing fav'd, for the Fool will eat no Supper that Night. We muft follow the Leaders. Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any Ill, I will leave them at the next Turning. [Exeunt. Mufick for the Dance. John. Sure my Brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her Father to break with him about it: The Ladies follow her, and but one Visor remains. Bora. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing. Claud. You know me well, I am he. John. Signior, you are very near my Brother in his Love, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you diffuade him from her, the is no equal for his Birth; you may do the Part of an honeft Man in it. Claud. How know you he loves her? John. I heard him fwear his Affection. Bora. So did I too, and he fwore he would marry her to Night. John. come let us to the Banquet. [Exeunt John and Bora. But hear this ill News with the Ears of Claudio. Save in the Office and Affairs of Love; And truft no Agent; for Beauty is a Witch, Which I miftrusted not. Farewel therefore, Hero. Enter |