make her Love known, and she will die if he woo her, rather than fhe will bate one Breath of her accuftom'd Crossnefs.

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.

Cland. 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 Sparks that are like Wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

Pedro. As Hector, I affure you, and in the managing of Quarrels you may fee he is wife, for either he avoids them with great Difcretion, or undertakes them with a Christianlike Fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he must neceffarily keep Peace; if he break the Peace, he ought to enter into a Quarrel with fear and trembling.

Pedro. And fo will he do, for the Man doth fear God, howfoever it seems not in him, by fome large Jefts he will make; well, I am forry for your Niece, fhall we go fee Benedick, and tell him of her Love?

Cland. Never tell him, my Lord, let her wait it out with good Counsel.

Leon. Nay, that's impoffible, fhe may wear her Heart out firft.

Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your Daughter, let it cool the while; I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modeftly examine himself, to fhew 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.

Pedro. Let there be the fame Net fpread for her, and that muft your Daughter and her Gentlewoman carry; the fport will be, when they hold one an Opinion of another's dotage, and no fuch matter, that's the Scene that I would fee which will be meerly a dumb fhew; let us fend her to call him to Dinner.

[Exeunt.

Bene.

Bene. This can be no Trick, the Conference was fadly born; 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 muft be requited: I hear how I am cenfur'd; they fay I will bear my felf proudly, if I per ceive the Love come from her; they fay too, that she will rather die than give any Sign 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 to have fome odd quirks and remains of Wit broken on me, becaufe 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 Sentences, and thefe Paper-Bullets of the Brain, awe a Man from the Career of his Humour? No, the World muft be peopled. When I faid I would die a Batchelor, I did not think I fhould live 'till I were marry'd: Here comes Beatrice, by this Day fhe'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 Dinnner.

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 fo much as you may take upon a Knives Point, and choak a Daw withal: you have no Stomach, Signior; 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 those Thanks, than you took Pains to thank me; that's as much as to fay, any Pains that I take for you is as eafie 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.

A C T III. SCENE I

Enter Hero, Margaret and Urfula.

Hero. G There fhalt thou find

OOD Margaret run thee to the Parlour,

my

Coufin Beatrice,

Propofing with the Prince and Claudio;
Whisper her Ear, and tell her I and Ursula
Walk in the Orchard, and our whole Difcourfe
Is all of her; fay that thou overheard'ft us,
And bid her fteal into the pleached Bower,
Where Honey-Suckles ripen'd by the Sun
Forbid the Sun to enter; like Favourites
Made proud by Princes, that advance their Pride
Against that Power that bred it: There will she hid her,
To liften to our Purpofe; this is thy Office,

Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come I warrant prefently. [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 To praise him more than ever Man did merit. My Talk to thee must be how Benedick Is fick in Love with Beatrice; of this Matter Is little Cupid's crafty Arrow made,

That only wounds by hear-fay: Now begin,

Enter Beatrice.

For look where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
Clofe by the Ground to hear our Conference.
Urfu. The pleasant'st angling is to see the Fish
Cut with her golden Oars the filver Stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous Bait;
So angle we for Beatrice, who even now,
Is couched in the Woodbine Overture;
Fear you not my Part of the Dialogue.

Hero. Then go we near her, that her Ear lofe nothing
Of the false sweet Bait that we lay for it.
No truly Ursula, she is too disdainful,
I know her Spirits are as coy and wild

As

As Haggerds of the Rock.

Urfu. But are you fure

That Benedick loves Beatrice fo intirely?

Hero. So fays the Prince, and my new trothed Lord. Urfu. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it, But I perfuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To with him wraftle with Affection,

And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urfu. Why did you fo? Doth not the Gentleman Deferve 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.
Difdain and Scorn ride fparkling in her Eye,
Mif-prizing what they look on, and her Wit
Values it felf fo highly, that to her

All Matter elfe feems weak; fhe cannot love,
Nor take no Shape nor Project of Affection,
She is fo felf-indeared. :

Urfu. Sure I think fo;

And therefore certainly it were not good-
She knew his Love, left fhe make Sport at it.

Hero. Why you speak Truth, I never yet faw Man,
How wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would fpell him backward; if fair-fac'd,
She would fwear the Gentleman should be her Sifter;
If black, why Nature drawing of an Antick,
Made a foul Blot; if tall, a Launce ill-headed;
If low, an Agat very vildly cut;

If fpeaking, why a Vane blown with all Winds;
If filent, why a Block moved with none.
So turns the every Man the wrong fide out,
And never gives to Truth and Virtue that
Which Simpleness and Merit purchaseth.

Urfu. Sure, fure, fuch carping is not commendable.
Hero. No, for to be fo odd, and from all Fashions,

As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.

But who dare tell her fo? if I fhould speak,

She

She would mock me into an Air, O fhe would laugh me
Out of my felf, prefs me to Death with Wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like covered Fire,
Confume away in Sighs, wafte inwardly;
It were a bitter Death to die with Mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

Urfu. Yet tell her of it, hear what she will fay.
Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight againft his Paffion,
And truly I'll devife fome honeft Slanders,
To ftain my Coufin with; one doth not know,
How much an ill Word may impoifon liking.

Urfu. O do not do your Coufin fuch a Wrong.
She cannot be fo much without true Judgment,
Having fo fweet and excellent a Wit,
As fhe is priz'd to have, as to refuse
So rare a Gentleman as Signior Benedick.
Hero. He is the only Man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urfu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madam,
Speaking my Fancy; Signior Benedick,

For Shape, for Bearing, Argument and Valour,
Goes formoft in Report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good Name.
Urfu. His Excellence did earn it e'er he had it.
When are you marry'd, Madam?

Hero. Why every Day, to Morrow; come go in,
I'll fhew thee fome Attires, and have thy Counsel,
Which is the beft to furnish me to Morrow.
Urfu. She's ta'en, I warrant you;

We have caught her, Madam.

Hero. If it prove fo, then loving goes by haps, Some Cupids kill with Arrows, fome with Traps. [Exeunt. Beat. What Fire is in my Ears? can this be true?

Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn fo much?

Contempt farewel, and Maiden Pride adieu;
No Glory lives behind the Back of fuch.
And Benedick, love on, I will requite thee,
Taming my wild Heart to thy loving Hand;
If thou doft love, my Kindness fhall incite thee
To bind our Loves up in a holy Band.

For