Watch 2. Well Mafters, we hear our Charge, let us go fit here upon the Church Bench 'till two, and then all to Bed.

Dogb. One Word more, honeft Neighbours. I pray you watch about Signior Leonato's Door, for the Wedding being there to Morrow, there is a great coil to Night; adieu; be vigilant I beseech you.

Enter Borachio and Conrade.

Bora. What, Conrade.

Watch. Peace, ftir not.

Bora. Conrade I say.

Conr. Here Man, I am at thy Elbow.

[Exeunt.

[Afide.

Bora. Mafs and my Elbow itch'd I thought there would a Scab follow.

Conr. I will owe thee an Answer for that, and now forward thy Tale.

Bora. Stand thee close then under this Pent-House, for it drizles Rain, and I will, like a true Drunkard, utter all to thee.

Watch. Some Treafon Masters, yet ftand close.

Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thoufand Ducats.

Conr. Is it poffible that any Villany fhould be fo dear? Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were poffible any Villany should be fo rich? For when rich Villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what Price they will. Conr. I wonder at it.

Bora. That fhews thou art unconfirm'd, thou knowest that the Fashion of a Doublet, or a Hat, or a Cloak, is nothing to a Man.

Conr. Yes, it is Apparel.

Bora. I mean the Fashion.

Conr. Yes the Fashion is the Fashion.

Bora. Tufh, I may as well fay the Fool's the Fool, but feest thou not what a deformed Thief this Fashion is?

Watch. I know that Deformed, a has been a vile Thief this feven Years; a goes up and down like a Gentleman: I remember his Name.

Bora. Did'st thou not hear fome Body?
Conr. No, 'twas the Vane on the House.

Bora. Seeft thou not, I fay, what a deformed Thief this Fashion is, how giddy he turns about all the Hot-bloods, between fourteen and five and thirty, fometimes fashioning them like Pharo's Soldiers in the rechy Painting, fometimes like god-Bell's Priefts in the old Church-window, fometimes like the fhaven Hercules in the fmirch'd worm-eaten Tapeftry, where his Cod-piece feems as maffie as his Club.

Conr. All this I fee, and fee that the Fashion wears out more Apparel than the Man; but art not thou thy felf giddy with the Fashion, that thou haft shifted out of thy Tale into telling me of the Fashion?

Bora. Not fo neither, but know that I have to Night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's Gentlewoman, by the Name of Hero; fhe leans me out at her Miftrefs's Chamber Window, bids me a thousand times good night I tell this Tale vildly I fhould firft tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my Mafter, planted and plac'd, and poffeffed by my Mafter Don John, faw afar off in the Orchard this amiable Encounter.

Conr. And thought thy Margaret was Hero?

Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the Devil my Mafter knew he was Margaret; and partly by his Oaths which firft poffeft them, partly by the dark Night which did deceive them, but chiefly by my Villany, which did confirm any Slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged, fwore he would meet her as he was appointed next Morning at the Temple, and there, before the whole Congregation fhame her with what he faw o'er Night, and fend her home again without a Husband.

Watch 1. We charge you in the Prince's Name ftand. Watch 2. Call up the right Mafter Conftable, we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of Lechery that ever was known in a Common-wealth.

Watch 1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, he wears a Lock.

Conr. Mafters, Mafters,

Watch 2. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.

Conr, Masters, never fpeak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us,

Bera

Bora. We are like to prove a goodly Commodity, being taken up of these Mens Bills.

Conr. A Commodity in queftion I warrant you, come we'll obey you.

Enter Hero, Margaret and Urfula.

[Exeunt.

Hero. Good Urfula wake my Coufin Beatrice, and defire her to rife.

Urfu. I will, Lady.

Hero. And bid her come hither.

Urfu. Well.

Marg. Troth, I think your other Rebato were better. Hero. No pray thee good Meg, I'll wear this.

Marg. By my Troth's not fo good, and I warrant your Coufin will fay fo.

Hero. My Coufin's a Fool, and thou art another, I'll wear none but this.

Marg. I like the new Tire within excellently, if the Hair were a Thought browner; and your Gown's a moft rare Fashion i'faith, I faw the Dutchefs of Milan's Gown, that they praise fo.

Hero. O that exceeds, they fay.

Marg. By my Troth's but a Night-Gown in refpect of yours; Cloth a Gold and Cuts, and lac'd with Silver, fet with Pearls down-fleeves, fide-fleeves and Skirts, round, underborn with a blueish Tinfef; but for a fine, queint, graceful and excellent Fashion, yours is worth ten on't.

Hero. God give me Joy to wear it, for my Heart is exceeding heavy.

Marg. Twill be heavier foon, by the weight of a Man. Hero. Fie upon thee, art not afham'd?

Marg. Of what, Lady? of speaking honourably? Is not Marriage honourable in a Beggar? Is not your Lord honourable without Marriage? I think you would have me fay, faving your Reverence a Husband: And bad thinking do not wreft true fpeaking, I'll offend no Body, is there any harm in the heavier for a Husband? None I think, and it be the right Husband, and the right Wife, otherwife 'tis light and not heavy; ask my Lady Beatrice elfe, here the

Enter Beatrice.

Hero. Good Morrow, Coz.

Beat. Good Morrow, fweet Hero.

Hero. Why how now? do you speak in the fick Tunę? Beat. I am out of all other Tune methinks.

Marg. Clap's into Light a Love (that goes without a Burden,) do you fing it, and I'll dance it.

Beat. Yes light a love with your Heels, then if your Husband have Stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no Barns.

Marg. O illegitimate Conftruction! I fcorn that with my Heels.

Beat, 'Tis almoft five a Clock, Coufin; 'tis time you were ready: By my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho! Marg. For a Hawk, a Horfe, or a Husband?

Beat. For the Letter that begins them all, H.

Marg. Well, and you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more failing by the Star,

Beat. What means the Fool, trow?

Marg. Nothing I, but God fend every one their Heart's Defire.

Hero. These Gloves the Count fent me, they are an excellent Perfume.

Beat. I am ftuft, Coufin, I cannot smell.

Marg. A Maid and ftuft! there's a goodly catching of Cold.

Beat. O God help me, God help me, how long have you profeft Apprehenfion?

Marg. Ever fince you left it; doth not my Wit become me rarely.

Beat. It is not feen enough, you should wear in your Cap. By my troth I am fick.

Marg. Get you fome of this diftill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your Heart, it is the only thing for a Qualm. Hero. There thou prick'ft her with a Thistle.

Beat. Benedictus? why Benedictus? You have fome Moral in this Benedictus.

Marg. Moral? no by my troth, I have no moral meaning, I meant plain Holy-Thiftle; you may think perchance that I think you are in Love, nay birlady I am not fuch a Fool to think what I lift, nor I lift not to think what I can,

nor

nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my Heart out of thinking, that you are in Love, or that you will be in Love, or that you can be in Love: Yet Benedick was fuch another, and now is he become a Man; he fwore he would never marry, and yet now in defpight, of his Heart he eats his Meat without grudging, and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your Eyes as other Women do.

Beat. What pace is this thy Tongue keeps?
Marg. Not a false Gallop.

Enter Urfula..

Urfu. Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the Gallants of the Town are come to fetch you to Church,

Hero. Help to drefs me, good Coz, good Meg, good Urfula.

[Exeunt.

Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. Leon. What would you with me, honeft Neighbour? Dogb. Marry Sir I would have fome Confidence with you, that decerns you nearly.

Leon. Brief I pray you, for you fee 'tis a bufie time with me.

Dogb. Marry this it is, Sir.

Verg. Yes in truth it is, Sir.

Leon. What is it, my good Friends?

Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, fpeaks a little of the matter, an old Man, Sir, and his Wits are not fo blunt, as, God help, I would defire they were, but in faith honeft as the Skin between his Brows.

Verg. Yes I thank God, I am as honeft as any man liying that is an old man, and no honester than I.

Dogb. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, Neighbour Verges.

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogb. It pleafes your Worship to fay fo, but we are the poor Duke's Officers; but truly for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to be ftow it all of your Worship.

Leon. All thy Tediousness on me! ah—

Dogb.