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Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hear-say: now begin.

Enter Beatrice, running towards the Arbour.
For look, where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground to hear our conference.

Ursu. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait;
So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now
Is couched in the woodbine-coverture;
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. -
No, truly, Ursula, she's too disdainful;
I know, her fpirits are as coy and wild
As'haggerds of the rock.

Ursu. But are you sure,
That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely?
Hero. So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord.
Ursu. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?

Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrastle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Ursu. Why did you so? doth not the Gentleman
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Mis-prizing what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak; she cannot love,
1 Wild hawks.
Mr. Popsi


Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-indeared.

Ursu. Sure, I think so;
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, left she make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, But she would spell him backward; if fair-facd, 'She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; « ? If black, why,

Nature, drawing of an antick, · Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed; • 3 If low, an Aglet very vilely cut; • If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; . If Glent, why a block moved with none.' So turns she every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue That, Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Ursu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No; for to be so odd, and from all fashions, 2 If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot;-] The antick was a buffoon character in the old English farces, with a blacked face and a patch-work habit. What I would observe from hence is, that the name of antick or antique, given to this character, Thews that the people had some traditional ideas of its being borrowed from the ancient mimes, who are thus described by Apuleius, mimi centunculo, fuligine faciem obdukti.

3 If low, an Agat very vilely cut ;] But why an agat, if low ? For what likeness between a little man and an agat? The ancients, indeed, used this stone to cut upon; but very exquisitely. I make no question but the poet wrote;

an Aglet very vilely cut ; An aglet was the tagg of those points, formerly so much in fashion. These taggs were either of gold, filver, or brass, according to the quality of the wearer; and were commonly in the shape of little images; or at least had a head cut at the extremiiy. The French call them aiguillettes. Mazeray, speaking of Henry IIld's forrow for the death of the princess of Conti, says, – portant meme sur ses aiguillettes de petites tetes de Mort. And as a tall man is before compar'd to a Launce ill-headed; so, by the same figure, a little Man is very aptly liken'd to an Aglet ill-cut.


As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable

But who dare tell her so ? if I should speak,
She'd mock me into air ; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in fighs, waste inwardly;
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling.

Ursu. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.

Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion,
And, truly, I'll devise fome honest sianders
To stain my Cousin with ; one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoison liking.

Ursu. O, do not do your Cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment,
(Having so swift and excellent a wit,
As she is prizid to have) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Benedick.

Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.
Ursu. I pray you, be not angry with me, Madam,

Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.

Ursu. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. When are you marry'd, Madam?

Hero. Why, every day; to morrow; come, go in, I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to morrow.

Ursu. She's lim’d, I warant you; we have caught her, Madam.

Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps ; Some Cupids kill with arrows, Some with traps.



Beatrice, advancing.
Beat. 4 What fire is in my ears ? can this be true?

Stand I condemn’d for Pride and Scorn so much? Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu!

No glory lives behind the back of such. And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee;

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; If thou dost love, thy kindness shall incite thee

To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say, thou doft deserve; and I Believe it better than reportingly.


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Pedro. I

Leonato's House. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.

DO but ftay 'till your marriage be con

summate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.

Pedro. Nay, That would be as great a foil in the new 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 congue is the clapper ; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So say I; methinks, you are fadder. Claud. I hope, he is in love. 4 What fire is in my ears?--) Alluding to a proverbial faying of the common people, that their ears burn when others are talking of them.


Pedro. Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly couch'd with love; if he be fad, he wants mony:

Bene. I have the tooth-ach.
Pedro. Draw it.
Bene. Hang it.

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.

Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach!
Leon. Which is but a humour, or a worm.

Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love.

Pedro. “ There is no appearance of fancy in him, s6 unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange dis“ guises, as to be a Dutch man to day, a French man “ to morrow; 5 or in the shape of two countries “ at once, a German from the waste downward, all “ Nops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no 66 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 some 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 stuft 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. 5 Edit. 1600. Mr. Pope.


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