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Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was fmoking a mufty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio hand in hand in fad conference. I whipt behind the arras, and there heard it agreed upon, that the Prince should woo Hero for himself; and having obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio.

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John. Come, come, let us thither; this may prove food to my difpleasure that young ftart-up hath all the glory of my overthrow. If I can crofs him any way, I bless myself every way; you are both fure, and will affift me.

Conr. To the death, my Lord.

John. Let us to the great fupper; their cheer is the greater that I am fubdu'd; would the cook were of my mind!-Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your Lordship.

[Exeunt.

ACT

II.

SCENE

I.

A ball in Leonato's house.

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Urfula.

Leon.

WAS not Count John here at fupper ?

Ant. I faw him not.

Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can fee him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after.

Hero. He is of a very melancholy difpofition.

Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made juft in the mid-way between him and Benedick: the one is too like an image, and fays nothing; and the other too like my lady's eldest fon, evermore tatling.

Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face

Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, fuch a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good-will.

Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be fo fhrewd of thy tongue. Ant. In faith, fhe's too curs'd.

Beat. Too curs'd is more than curs'd.

I fhall leffen

God's fending that way; for it is faid, God fends a curs'd cow fhort horns; but to a cow too curs'd, he fends none.

Leon. So, by being too curs'd, God will fend you no

horns.

Beat. Juft if he fend me no husband; for the which bleffing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in woollen.

Leon. You may light upon a husband that hath no beard.

Beat. What fhould I do with him? drefs him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is lefs than a man, I am not for him therefore I will even take fix pence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes

into hell *.

Ant. Well, niece, I truft, you will be rul'd by your father.

[To Hero. Beat. Yes, faith, it is my coufin's duty to make curtfy, and fay, Father, as it pleafes you; but yet for all that, coufin, let him be a handfome fellow, or elfe make another curtfy, and fay, Father, as it pleafes me.

Leon. Well, niece, I hope to fee you one day fitted with a husband.

Beat. Not till God make men of fome other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmafter'd with a piece of valiant duft? to make account of her life to a clod of wayward marle? No, uncle, I'll none; Adam's fons are my brethren, and, truly, I hold it a fin to match in my kindred.

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Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and fay, Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heav'n, here's no place for you maids. So deliver I up my apes, and away to St Peter, for the heav'ns; he fhews me where the bachelors fit, and there liye we as merry as the day is long.

Ant Well, niece, &c.
VOL. II.

B

Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told you; if the Prince do folicit you in that kind, you know your anfwer.:

Beat. The fault will be in the mufic, coufin, if you be not woo'd in good time. If the Prince be too importunate, tell him, there is measure in every thing, and fo dance out the answer: for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace; the firft fuit is hot and hafty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantaftical; the wedding man nerly-modeft, as a meafure, full of ftate and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace fafter and fafter, till he finks into his grave.

Leon. Coufin, you apprehend paffing fhrewdly.

Beat. I have a good eye, uncle, I can fee a church by day-light.

Leon. The revellers are entering, brother; make good room.

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Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in mafquerade.

Pedro. Lady, will you walk with your friend?
Hero. So you walk foftly, and look fweetly, and fay
nothing, I am your's for the walk, and especially when
I walk away..

Pedro, With me in your company
Hero. I may fay fo when I pleafe.

?

Pedro. And when please you to say fo?

Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend, the lute fhould be like the cafe!

Pedro. My vifor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.

Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd.
Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love *.

Balth. Well; I would you did like me.

Marg. So would not I for your own fake, for I have

many ill qualities.

Balth. Which is one?

This feems to be a line quoted from a fong or some verfes commonly known at that time.

Marg. I fay my prayers aloud.

Balth. I love you the better; the hearers may cry Amen.

Marg. God match me with a good dancer!

Balth. Amen.

Marg. And God keep him out of my fight when the dance is done! Anfwer, clerk.

Balth. No more words, the clerk is answer'd,

Urf. I know you well enough; you are Signior An

tonio.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urf. I know you by the wagling of your head.
Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

Urf. You could never do him fo ill-well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urf. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he; graces will appear, and there's an end.

Beat. Will you not tell me, who told you fo?
Bene. No, you shall pardon me.

Bear. Nor will you not tell me who you are?

Bene. Not now.

Beat. That I was difdainful, and that I had my good wit out of The hundred merry tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that faid fo.

Bene. What's he?

Beat. I am fure you know him well enough.

Bene. Not I, believe me.

Beat. Did he never make you laugh?

Bene. I pray you, what is he?

Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jefter; a very dull fool, only his gift is in devifing impaffable flanders. None but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him. I am fure he is in the fleet: I would he had boarded me.

Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you fay.

Beat. Do, do; he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, ftrikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge-wing fav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Mufic within. Bene. In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt.

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Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio.

John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it; the ladies follow her, and but one vifor remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio; I know him by his bear ing.

John. Are you not Signior Bencdick ?

Claud. You know me well, I am he.

John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero: I pray you, diffuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it.

Claud: How know ye he loves her?

John. I heard him fwear his affection.

Bora. So did I too, and he fwore he would marry her to-night.

John. Come, let us to the banquet.

[Exeunt John and Por. Claud. Thus anfwer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain fo, the Prince wooes for himfcif. Friendship is conftant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love;

Therefore all hearts in love ufe your own tongues !
Let every eye negotiate for itself,

And truft no agent; beauty is a witch,

Against whofe charms faith melteth into blood.

This is an accident of hourly proof,

Which I miftrusted not.

Farewel then, Hero!

Enter Benedick.

Bene. Count Claudio?

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