Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most 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 fwords; we have bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put 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. [Sings.] The God of love, that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, bow pitiful I deferve, I mean, in finging; but in loving, Leander the good fwimmer, Troilus the firft employer of pandars, and a whole book full of thefe quondam carpet-mongers, whofe names yet run fmoothly in the even road of a blank verfe; why, they were never fo truly turn'd over and 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 lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for fcorn, born, 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 festival terms. Sweet Beatrice, would't 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 ere I go, let me go with that I came for, 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 but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. Bene. Thou haft frighted the word out of its right fense, so forcible is thy wit; but, I muft tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either. I must 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 first fuffer love for me? Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet; I do fuffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In fpight of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart, if you spight it for my fake, I will spight 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 himfelf. 8 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 ere 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? quarter 8 in the time of good neighbours;] i. e. When men were not envious, but every one gave another his due. The reply is extremely humourous. 9 Question? why, an hour, &c ].i.e. What a question's there, or what a foolish queftion do you ask. But the Oxford Editor not 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 self will bear witness, is praiseworthy; and now tell me, how doth your Coufin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Urfula. Urfu. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falfely 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 presently? Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior? Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy heart; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt. not understanding this phrafe, contracted into a fingle word, (of which we have many inftances in English) has fairly ftruck it out. Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η. Done to death by flanderous tongues Claud. Now mufick found, and fing your folemn hymn. Claud. Now unto thy bones good night! Yearly will I do this Right. 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 fpots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leave us ; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, mafters; each his feveral way. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud Claud. And Hymen now with luckier iffue fpeed's, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! SCENE [Exeunt. IX. Changes to Leonato's Houfe. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Urfula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero. Friar. DID ID I not tell you, fhe was innocent? Upon the error that you heard debated. Ant. Well, I am glad, that all things fort fo well, Bene. And fo am I, being elfe by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well, Daughter, and you 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. Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, Signior? Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them: 1 And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Than this, for whom we render'd up this Woe.] Claudio could not know, without being a prophet, that this new-propos'd match fhould have any luckier event than that defign'd with Hero. Certainly, therefore, this fhould be a wifh in Claudio; and, to this end, the poet might have wrote, Speed's; i. e. speed us: and so it becomes a prayer to Hymen. Dr. Thirlby. Signior |