Marg. To have no Man come over me; why, fhall I always keep below Stairs? Bene. Thy Wit is as quick as the Greyhound's Mouth, it ketches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the Fencers Foils, which hit, but hurt net. Bene. A moft manly Wit Margaret, it will not hurt a Woman; and fo I pray thee call Beatrice; I give thee the Bucklers. Marg. Give us the Swords, we have Bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them Margaret, you must put it in the Pikes with a Vice, and they are dangerous Weapons for Maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath Legs. [Exit Margaret. Bene, And therefore will come. The God of Love that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deferve, I mean in Singing; but in loving, Leander the good Swimmer, Troilus the firft Employer of Panders, and a whole Book full of these quondam Carpet-mongers, whofe Names yet run fmoothly in the even Road of a blank Verse, why they were never fo truly turn'd over, as my poor felf in Love; marry I cannot fhew it in Rhime; I have try'd, I can find out no Rhime to a Lady but Baudy, an Innocents Rhime; for fcorn, horn, a hard Rhime; for fchool, fool, a babling Rhime; very ominous Endings; no, I was not born under a Rhiming Planet, for I cannot woo in feftival Terms. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, would'ft thou come when I call thee? Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me. Beat. Then, is fpoken; fare you well now; and yet e'er I go, let me go with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath paft between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul Words, and thereupon I will kifs thee. Beat. Foul Words are foul Wind, and foul Wind is but foul Breath, and foul Breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkift. Bene. Thou haft frighted the Word out of its right Senfe, fo forcible is thy Wit; but I muft tell thee plainly, Clan dio undergoes my Challenge, and either I muft fhortly hear from him, or I will fubfcribe him a Coward; and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad Parts didft thou firft fall in Love with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd fo politick a State of Evil, that they will not admit any good Part to intermingle with them: But for which of my good Parts did you fuffer Love for me? Bene. Suffer Love! a good Epithete; I do fuffer Love indeed, for I love thee againft my Will. Beat. In fpight of your Heart, I think; alas poor Heart, if you spight it for my Sake, I will fpight it for yours, for I will never love that which my Friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wife to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this Confeffion; there's not one wife Man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old Inftance Beatrice, that liv'd in the Time of good Neighbours; if a Man do not erect in this Age his own Tomb e'er he dies, he fhall live no longer in Monuments than the Bells ring, and the Widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Queftion; why an Hour in Clamour, and a Quarter in Rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the Wife, if Don Worm (his Confcience) find no Impediment to the contrary, to be the Trumpet of his own Virtues, as I am to my felf; fo much for praifing my felf; who I my felf will bear Witness is Praife-worthy; and now tell me how doth your Coufin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. Enter Urfula. Bene. Serve God, tove me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Urfu. Madam, you must come to your Uncle; yonder's old Coil at Home; it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falfly accus'd, the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the Author of all, who is fled and gone: Will you come prefently? Beat. Will you go hear this News, Signior? Bene. I will live in thy Heart, die in thy Lap, and be bu ried in thy Eyes; and moreover, I will go with thee to thy Uncle. 1 [Exeunt. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with Tapers. Claud. Is this the Monument of Leonato? Atten. It is my Lord. EPITA P H. Done to Death by flanderous Tongues, Claud. Now Mufick found and fing your folemn Hymn. Pardon Goddess of the Night, Those that flew the Virgin Knight; Graves yawn and yield your Dead, 'Till Death be uttered, Heavenly, heavenly. (this Right. Claud. Now unto thy Bones good night; Yearly will I do Cland. Good morrow Masters; each his several way. And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud. And Hymen now with luckier Iffue fpeed, Than this for whom we rendred up this Woe. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Urfula, Antonio, Frier. Did I not tell you the was Innocent? Ant. Well, I am glad that all things fort fo well. Leon. Well Daughter, and young Gentlewomen all, [Exeunt Ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd Countenance. Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them: But for my Will, my Will is, your good Will In which, good Frier, I fhall defire your help. Frier. And my help. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with Attendants. Pedro. Good Morrow to this fair Affembly. Leon. Good Morrow, Prince, good Morrow Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To Day to marry with my Brother's Daughter? Claud. I'll hold my Mind, were the an Ethiope, VOL. I. C c Leon. Leon. Call her forth, Brother, here's the Frier ready. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick, why what's the matter; That you have fuch a February Face, So full of Froft, of Storm, and Cloudiness? Cland. I think he thinks upon the favage Bull: Tush, fear not Man, we'll tip thy Horns with Gold, And fo all Europe fhall rejoice at thee, As once Enropa did at lufty Jove, When he would play the Noble Beaft in Love, Much like to you, for you have just his Bleat. Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Urfula, Cland. For this I owe you; here come other Recknings. Which is the Lady I must feize upon? Leon. This fame is fhe, and I do give you her. Claud. Why then she is mine; fweet let me fee your Face. Leon. No, that you fhall not, 'till you take her Hand, Before this Frier, and fwear to marry her. Claud. Give me your Hand before this holy Frier; I am your Husband if you like of me. Hero. And when I liv'd I was your other Wife; [unmasking. And when you lov'd you were my other Husband. Claud. Another Hero ? Hero. Nothing certainer. One Hero dy'd, but I do live; And furely as I live I am a Maid. Pedro. The former Hero, Hero that is dead. Leon. She dy'd my Lord, but whiles her Slander liv'd. Frier. All this Amazement can I qualifie, When after that the holy Rites are ended, I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's Death: And to the Chappel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, Frier. Which is Beatrice? Beat. I anfwer to that Name, what is your Will? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. Why, no more than Reafon. Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd, they fwore you did. Beat. |