Bene. Count Claudio.

Claud. Yea the fame.

Enter Benedick.

Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claud. Whither?

Bene. Even to the next Willow, about your own Bu finefs, Count. What Fashion will you wear the Garland of? About your Neck, like a Ufurer's Chain? Or under your Arm, like a Lieutenant's Scarf? You must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.

Claud. I wish him Joy of her.

Bene. Why that's fpoken like an honeft Drovier, fo they fell Bullocks; but did you think the Prince would have served you thus?

Claud. I pray you leave me.

Bene. No, no! you ftrike like the blind Man; 'twas the Boy that stole your Meat, and you'll beat the Poft. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you.

[Exit. Bene. Alas poor hurt Soul, now will he creep into Sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me; the Prince's Fool! ha? it may be I go under that Title, because I am merry; yea but fo I'am apt to do my felf wrong: I am rot fo reputed, it is the bafe (though bitter) Difpofition of Beatrice, that puts the World into her Perfon, and fo gives me out; well, 'I'll be reveng❜d as I may.

Enter Don Pedro.

Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count? did you fee him?

Bene. Troth my Lord, I have play'd the Part of Lady Fame, I found him here as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren; I told him, and I think, told him true, that your Grace had got the Will of this young Lady, and I offered him my Company to a Willow Tree, either to make him a Garland, as being forfaken, or to bind him a Rod, as being worthy to be whipt.

Pedro. To be whipt, what's his Fault?

Bene. The flat Tranfgreffion of a School-Boy, who being over-joy'd with finding a Birds Neft, fhews it his Companion, and he fteals it.

Pedro. Wilt thou make a Truft, a Tranfgreffion? the Tranfgreffion is in the Stealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been amifs the Rod had been made, and the Garland too; for the Garland he might have worn himfelf, and the Rod he might have bestowed on you, who (as I take it) have ftol'n his Birds Nest.

Pedro. I will but teach them to fing, and reftore them to the Owner.

Bene. If their finging anfwer your faying, by my Faith you say honestly.

Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a Quarrel to you, the Gentleman that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you.

Bene. O the mifus'd me paft the Indurance of a Block; an Oak but with one green Leaf on it, would have an fwered her; my very Vifor began to affume Life, and fcold with her; he told me, not thinking I had been my felf, that I was the Prince's Jefter, and that I was duller than a great Thaw, hudling Jeft upon Jeft, with fuch impoffible conveiance upon me, that I ftood like a Man at a Mark, with a whole Army fhooting at me; fhe speaks Poyniards, and every Word ftabs me; if her Breath were as terrible as Terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the North Star; I would not marry her, though fhe were endow'd with all that Adam had left him before he tranfgrefs'd, fhe would have made Hercules have turn'd Spit, yea, and have cleft his Club to make the Fire too. Come, talk not of her, you fhall find her the infernal Ate in good Apparel. I would to God fome Scholar would conjure her, for certainly while fhe is here, a Man may live as quiet in Hell as in a San&uary, and People fin upon Purpose, because they would go thither, fo indeed all Difquiet, Horror, and Perturbation follows her. Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero. Pedro. Look here fhe comes.

Bene. Will your Grace command me any Service to the Worlds End? I will go on the flighteft Errand now to the Antipodes that you can devife to fend me on; I will fetch you a Tooth-Picker now from the furtheft Inch of Afia; bring you the length of Preftor John's Foot; fetch you a Hair off the great Cham's Beard; do you any Em

baflage

baffage to the Pigmies, rather then hold three Words Conference with this Harpy; you have no Employment for me? Pedro. None, but to defire your good Company.

Bene. O God, Sir, here's a Difh I love not, I cannot indure this Lady's Tongue. [Exit. Pedro. Come Lady, come, you have loft the Heart of Signior Benedicks

Beat. Indeed my Lord, he fent it me a while, and I gave him ufe for it, a double Heart for a fingle one; Marry, once before he won it of me with falfe Dice, therefore your Grace may well fay I have loft it.

Pedro. You have put him down, Lady, you have put him down.

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, left I fhould prove the Mother of Fools: I have brought Count Claudio, whom you fent me to feek.

Pedro. Why, how now Count, wherefore are you fad? Cland. Not fad, my Lord.

Pedro: How then? fick?,
Claud. Neither, my Lord.

Beat. The Count is neither fad, nor fick, nor merry, nor well; but civil Count, civil as an Orange, and something of a jealous Complexion.

Pedro. I'faith Lady, I think your Blazon to be true; though I'll be fworn, if he be fo, his Conceit is falfe. Here Claudio, I have wooed in thy Name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her Father, and his good Will obtained, name the Day of Marriage, and God give thee Joy. Leon. Count, take of me my Daughter, and with her my Fortunes; his Grace hath made the Match, and all Grace fay Amen to it.

Beat. Speak Count, 'tis your Qu.

Claud. Silence is the perfecteft Herald of Joy; I were but little happy if I could fay, how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give away my felf for you, and doat upon the Exchange.

Beat. Speak Coufin, or (if you cannot) ftop his Mouth with a Kifs, and let not him fpeak neither.

Pedro. In faith Lady, you have a merry Heart.

Beat. Yea my Lord, I thank it, poor Fool, it keeps

on

on the windy fide of Care; my Coufin tells him in his Ear that he is in my Heart.

Clan. And fo fhe doth, Coufin.

Beat. Good Lord, for Alliance; thus goes every one to the World but I, and I am Sun-burn'd, I may fit in a Corner, and cry, heigh ho for a Husband.

Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beat. I would rather have one of your Father's getting; hath your Grace ne'er a Brother like you; your Father got excellent Husbands, if a Maid could come by them. Pedro. Will you have me, Lady?

Beat. No, my Lord, unlefs I might have another for working-Days, your Grace is too coftly to wear every Day: But I befeech your Grace pardon me, I was born to speak all Mirth, and no Matter.

Pedro. Your Silence moft offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for out of question you were born in a merry Hour.

Beat. No fure my Lord, my Mother cry'd; but then there was a Star danc'd, and under that I was born. Coufins, God give you Joy.

Leon. Neice, will you look to those things I told you of?

Beat. I cry you mercy Uncle, by you Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice. Pedro. By my Troth a pleasant spirited Lady..

Leon. There's little of the melancholy Element in her, my Lord, fhe is never fad, but when the fleeps, and not ever fad then; for I have heard my Daughter fay, the hath often dream'd of Unhappiness, and wak'd her felf with laughing.

Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a Husband.

Leon. O, by no Means, the mocks all her Wooers out of fuir.

Pedro. She were an excellent Wife for Benedick.

Leon. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a Week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad.

Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to

Church?

Clau. To Morrow, my Lord, Time goes on Crutches, 'till Love have all his Rites.

Leon.

Leon. Not 'till Monday, my dear Son, which is hence a juft feven Night, and a time too brief to, to have all things anfwer my Mind.

Pedro. Come, you shake the Head at fo long a breathing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time fhall not go dully by us; I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules's Labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a Mountain of Affection, the one with the other; I would fain have it a Match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minifter fuch Affiftance as I fhall give you Direction.

Leon. My Lord, I am for you, though it coft me ten Nights Watchings.

Claud. And I my Lord.

Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero.

Hero. I will do any modeft Office, my Lord, to help my Coufin to a good Husband.

Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefulleft Husband that I know: Thus far can I praise him, he is of a noble Strain, of approv'd Valour, and confirm'd Honefty. I will teach you how to humour your Coufin, that the fhall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will fo practise on Benedick, and in defpite of his quick Wit, and his queafie Stomach, he fhall fall in love with Beatrice: If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall be ours, for we are the only Love-gods; go with me, and I will tell you my Drift. [Exeunt.

Enter Don John and Borachio. John. It is fo, the Count Claudio fhall marry the Daughter of Leonato.

• Bora. Yea, my Lord, but I can cross it.

John. Any Bar, any Crofs, any Impediment, will be medicinable to me, I am fick in Difpleasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his Affection, ranges evenly with mine; how canft thou cross this Marriage?

Bora. Not honeftly my Lord, but fo covertly, that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

John. Shew me briefly how.

Bora. I think I told your Lordship a Year fince, how much I am in the Favour of Margaret, the Waiting-Gentlewoman to Hero.