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Marg. To have no Man come over me; why, shall 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 not.

Bene. A most manly Wit Margaret, it will not hurt a Woman ; and so I pray thee call Beatrice; I give thee the Bucklers.

Marg. Give us the Swords, we have Bucklers of our

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hath Legs.

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

( Exit Margaret. Bene. And therefore will come. The God of Love that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, I mean in Singing; but in loving, Leander the good Swimmer, Troilus the first Employer of Panders, and a whole Book full of these quondam Carpet-mongers, whose Names yet run smoothly in the even Road of a blank Verse, why they were never so truly turn'd over, as my poor felf in Love; marry I cannot shew it in Rhime; I have try'd, I can find out no Rhime to a Lady but Baudy, an Innocents Rhime; for scorn, horn, a hard Rhime; for school, fool, a babling Rhime; very ominous Endings; no, I was not born under a Rhiming Planet, for I cannot woo in festival Terms.

Enter Beatrice.
Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee?

Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me.
Bene. O stay but 'till then.

Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now; and yet e'er I go, let me go with that I came, which is, with knox

knowing what hath palt between you and Clandio.

Bene. Only foul Words, and thereupon I will kiss thee.

Beat. Foul Words are foul Wind, and foul Wind is but foul Breath, and foul Breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist.

Bene. Thou hast frighted the Word out of its right Sense, fo forcible is thy Wit; but I must tell thee plainly, Clan

dio undergoes my Challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a Coward ; and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad Parts didst thou first fall in Love with me?

Beat. For them all together, which maintain’d so politick a State of Evil, that they will not admit any good Parc to intermingle with them: But for which of my good Parts did you suffer Love for me?

Bene. Suffer Love! a good Epithete; I do suffer Love indeed, for I love thee against my Will.

Beat. In spight of your Heart, I think ; alas poor Heart, if you spight it for my Sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will never love that which


Friend hates, Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this Confession; there's not one wise Man among twenty that will praise himself.

Bene. An old, an old Instance Beatrice, that liv'd in the Time of good Neighbours; if a Man do not ere& in this Age his own Tomb e'er he dies, he shall live no longer in Monuments than the Bells ring, and the Widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you?

Bene. Question; why an Hour in Clamour, and a Quarter in Rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the Wise, if Don Worm (his Conscience) find no Impediment to the contrary, to be the Trumpet of his own Virtues, as I am to my self; so much for praising my felf; who I my self will bear Witness is Praise-worthy; and now tell me how doth your Cousin?

Beat. Very ill.
Bene. And how do you?
Beat. Very ill too.

Enter Ursula. Bene. Serve God, fove me, and mend; there will I leave you too, før here comes one in haste.

Ursu. Madam, you must come to your Uncle ; yonder's old Coil at Home; it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falfty accus'd, the Prince and Claudio mightily abus’d, and Don John is the Author of all, who is filed and gone: Will you come presently?

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:

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with Tapers.
Claud. Is this the Monument of Leonato ?
Atten. It is my Lord.

Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η.
Done to Death by sanderous 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,

Praising her when I am dumb.
Claud. Now Musick sound and sing your solemn Hymn.

Pardon Goddess of the Night,
Those that flew the Virgin Knight;
For the which with Songs of Woc,
Round about her Tomb they go.
Midnight assist our Moan,
Help us to figh and groana
Heavily, heavily,
Graves yawn and gield your Dead,
'Till Death be uttered,
Heavenly, heavenly.

(this Right. Claud. Now unto thy Bones good night; Yearly will I do

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

Claud. 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.

Cland. And Hymen now with luckier Issue speed, Than this for whom we rendred up this Woe.



Enter Leonard, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio,

Frier and Hero.
Frier. Did I not tell you she was Innocent?

Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her,
Upon the Error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in some Fault for this;
Although against her Will as it appears,
In the true Course of all the Question.

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

Leon. Well Daughter, and young Gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a Chamber by your selves,
And when I send for you come hither Mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this Hour
To visit 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 Answer, Sir, is enigmatical,
But for my Will, my Will is, your good Will
May stand with ours, this Day to be conjoin'd
I'th' State of honourable Marriage,
In which, good Frier, I shall desire 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 Assembly.

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? Cland. I'll hold my Mind, were she an Ethiope, VOL. I.



Leon. Call her forth, Brother, here's the Frier ready.

Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick, why what's the matter; That you have such a

have such a February Face,
So full of Frost, of Storm, and Cloudiness?

Cland. I think he thinks upon the savage Bull:
Tush, fear not Man, we'll tip thy Horns with Gold,
And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee,
As once Enropa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the Noble Beast in Love,

Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable Low,
And some such strange Bull leapt your Father's Cow,
And got a Calf in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you have just his Bleat.

Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula,
Cland. For this I owe you; here come other Recknings.
Which is the Lady I must seize upon?

Leon. This fame is the, and I do give you her.
Claud. Why then she is mine; sweet let me see your Face.

Leon. No, that you shall 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.

Here. And when I liv'd I was your other Wife; [urmasking. 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 surely 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 seem familiar,
And to the Chappel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, Frier. Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that Name, what is your Will?
Bene. Do not you love me?
Beat. Why, no more than Reason.

Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd, they swore you did.


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