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gloss of your marriage, as to fhew a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with
Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the foale of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him ; he hath a heart as found as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.
Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Pedro. Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; if he be fad, he wants mony.
Bene. I have the tooth-ach.
Bene. Well, every one can mafter a grief but he that has it.
Claud. Yet fay I, he is in love.
Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutch man to day, a French man to morrow ; or in the shape of two countries at once, a German from the waste downward, all fops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet : Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is.
Claud. If he be not in love with fome woman, there: is no believing old signs ; he brushes his hat o’mornings ; what should that bode? Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ?
Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already ftuft tennis-balls.
Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard.
· Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet ; can you smell him out by that ?
Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love.
Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they fay of him.
Claud. Nay, but his jefting spirit, which is now crepe into a lute-ftring and now govern'd by stops
Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, he is in love.
Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.
Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.
Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him.
Pedro. She shall be bury'd with her heels upwards. (11)
Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old Signior, walk aside with me, I have study'd eight or nine wife words to speak to you which these hobbyhorses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.
Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.
Claud. 'Tis even fo. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another, when they meet."
Enter Don John.
(11) She shall be buried with her Face upwards.) Thus the whole Set of Editions : But what is there any ways particular in This? Are not all Men and Women buried fo! Sure, the Poet means, in Opposition to the general Rule, and by way of Diftin&ion, with her heels upwards, or face downwards. I have chose the first Reading, because I find it the Expression in Vogue in our Author's time,
John. If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear; for, what I would speak of, concerns him.
Pedro. What's the matter ?
John. Means your lordship to be marry'd to mors row?
[To Claudio, Pedro. You know, he does. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. :
Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, dif. cover it.
John. You may think, I love you not ; let that apa pear hereaster; and aim better at me by That I now will manifeft; for my brother, I think, he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage; surely, Suit ill spent, and Labour ill bestow'd!
Pedro. Why, what's the matter ?
John. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances, fhorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is disoyal.
Claud. Who? Hero?
John. Even she;. Leonato's Hero, your. Hero, every man's Hero.
Claud. Disloyal ?
John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it; wonder not 'cill further warrant; go but with me to night, you shall see her chamber-window enter'd, even the night before her wedding day ; if you love her, then to morrow wed her.; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.
Claud. May this be fo?
John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know ; if
will follow me, I will shew you enough ; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly
Claud. If I see any thing to night why I should not marry her to morrow; in the Congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her.
Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.
John. I will disparage het no farther, 'till you are my witnesses ; bear it coldly but 'till night, and let the issue Shew it self.
Pedro. O day untowardly turned !
John. O plague right well prevented !
( Exeunt. SCEN E changes to the Street,
Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch.
you good and
Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they hould suffer salvation, body and soul.
Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's Watch.
Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.
Dogb. First, who think you the most defartless man to be constable ?
1 Watch. Hugh Oatecake, Sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read.
Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacole: God hath bleft
you with a good name ; and to be a well-favour'd man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature.
2 Watch. Both which, master constable
Dogb. You have : I knew, it would be your answer. Well, for your Favour, Sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity: you are thought here to be the most senseless and fít man for the Constable of the Watch, therefore bear you the lanthorn; this is your charge : you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man kand, in the Prince's name.
2 Watch. How if he will not stand ?
Dogb. Why, then take no note of him, but let him go ; and presently call the reft of the Watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave.
Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's Subjects.
Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's Subjects : you fhall also make no noise in the streets ; for, for the Watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endur'd.
2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a Watch,
Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and moft quiet watchman, for I cannot fee how Sleeping should offend ; only have a care that your Bills be not stolen : well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid them that are drunk get them to bed.
2. Watch. How if they will not?
Dogb. Why then let them alone 'till they are sober ; if they make you not then the better answer, you may fay, they are not the men you took them for. 2 Watch. Well, Sir.
Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him by vertue of your office to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty.
2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?
Dogb. Truly, by your office you may ; but, I think, they that touch pitch will be defild: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your company.
Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, Partner.
Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it.
2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us?