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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.
Bene. O ftay but 'till then.

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,
Was the Hero that here lyes:
Death in guerdon of her Wrongs,
Gives her Fame which never dies:
So the Life that dy'd with Shame,
Lives in Death with glorious Fame.
Hang thou there upon the Tomb,
Praifing her when I am dumb.

Claud. Now Mufick found and fing your folemn Hymn.
SONG.

Pardon Goddess of the Night,

Those that flew the Virgin Knight;
For the which with Songs of Woe,
Round about her Tomb they go.
Midnight affift our Moan,
Help us to figh and groan.
Heavily, heavily,

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
Pedro. Good morrow Mafters, put your Torches out,
The Wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle Day
Before the Wheels of Phabus, round about
Dapples the drowfie Eaft with Spots of Grey.
Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well.

Cland. Good morrow Masters; each his several way.
Muf. Come, let us hence, and put on other Weeds,

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.

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Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Urfula, Antonio,
Frier and Hero.

Frier. Did I not tell you the was Innocent?
Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her,
Upon the Error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in fome Fault for this;
Although against her Will as it appears,
In the true Courfe of all the Question.

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things fort fo well.
Bene. And so am I, being else by Faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well Daughter, and young Gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a Chamber by your felves,
And when I fend for you come hither Mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this Hour
To vifit me; you know your Office Brother,
You must be Father to your Brother's Daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.

[Exeunt Ladies.

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd Countenance.
Bene. Frier, I must intreat your Pains, I think.
Frier. To do what, Signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,
Your Neice regards me with an Eye of Favour.
Ant. That Eye my Daughter lent her, 'tis most true.
Bene. And I do with an Eye of Love requite her.
Leon. The Sight whereof I think you had from me,
From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your Will?
Bene. Your Anfwer, Sir, is enigmatical,

But for my Will, my Will is, your good Will
May ftand with ours, this Day to be conjoin'd
I'th' State of honourable Marriage,

In which, good Frier, I fhall defire your help.
Leon. My Heart is with your liking.

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,
Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable Low,
And fome fuch strange Bull leapt your Father's Cow,
And got a Calf in that fame noble feat,

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:
Mean time let Wonder feem familiar,

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.

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