fobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curfes; O fweet Benedick! God give me patience!

Leon. She doth, indeed, my daughter fays fo; and the ecftafy hath fo much overborn her, that my daughter is fometime afraid, the will do defperate outrage to herfelf; it is very true.

Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by fome other, if fhe will not discover it.

Claud. To what end? He would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.

Pedro. If he fhould, it were an alms to hang him; fhe's an excellent fweet lady, and (out of all fufpicion) fhe is virtuous.

Claud. And the is exceeding wife.

Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick.

Leon. O my Lord, wifdom and blood combating in fo tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am forry for her, as I have just caufe, being her uncle and her guardian.

Pedro. I would fhe had beftow'd this dotage on me; I would have dafft all other refpects, and made her half myfelf. I pray you, tell Benedick of it; and hear what he will fay,

Leon. Were it good, think you?

Claud. Hero thinks furely fhe will die; for fhe fays, she will die if he love her not, and fhe will die ere the make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accuftom'd croffness.

Pedro. She doth well; if the fhould make tender of her love, 'tis very poffible, he'll fcorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible fpirit.

Claud. He is a very proper man.

Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and, in my mind, very wife. Pedro. He doth indeed fhew fome fparks that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

Pedro. As Hector, I affure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may fay he is wife; for either he avoids them with great difcretion, or undertakes them

with a Chriftian-like fear. Well, I am forry for your niece fhall we go feek Benedick, and tell him of her love?

Claud. Never tell him, my Lord; let her wear it out with good counfel.

Leon. Nay, that's impoffible, fhe may wear her heart out firft.

Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modeftly examine himself, to fee how much he is unworthy to have fo good a lady.

Leon. My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not doat on her upon this, I will never truft my expectation.

[Afide. Pedro. Let there be the fame net fpread for her, and that muft your daughter and her gentlewoman carry; the fport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no fuch matter; that's the scene that I would fee, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us fend her to call him to dinner.

[Afide. [Exeunt.

SCENE X. Benedick advances from the arbour.

ઃ

Bene. This can be no trick, the conference was fadly borne; they have the truth of this from Hero; they feem to pity the lady; it feems her affections "have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be re

quited. I hear how I am cenfur'd: they fay I will "bear myfelf proudly, if I perceive the love come from "her; they fay too, that he will rather die than give any fign of affection.I did never think to marry

-I muft not feem proud-Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They fay the lady is fair; 'tis a truth I can bear them witnefs and virtuous;-'tis fo, I cannot

a Chriftian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he muft neceffarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

Pedro. And fo will he do; for the man doth fear God, howfoever it feems not in him, by fome large jests he will make. Well, &c.

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"reprove it: and wife, but for loving me-by my troth, "it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument "of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance to have fome odd quirks and rem"nants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd fo "long against marriage. But doth not the appetite al"ter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and fentences, " and these paper-bullets of the brain, awe a man from "the career of his humour? no; the world must be peopled. When I faid, I would die a bachelor, I "did not think I should live till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day, fhe's a fair lady; I do 66 fpy fome marks of love in her.

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66

Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Againft my will, I am fent to bid you come in to dinner.

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

Beat. I took no more pains for thofe thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleafure then in the meffage.

Beat. Yea, juft fo much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no ftomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit.

Bene. Ha! against my will I am fent to bid you come in to dinner;-~~- -there's a double meaning in that. I fook no more pains for thofe thanks, than you took pains to thank me that's as much as to fay, any pains that I take for you is as eafy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her picture. [Exit,

ACT III.

SCENE I,

Continues in the orchard.

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Urfula.

Hero. G

Ood Margaret, run thee into the parlour,
There fhalt thou find my coufin Beatrice,

Propofing with the Prince and Claudio;

Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole difcourfe
Is all of her; fay, that thou overheard'ft us;
And bid her fteal into the pleached bower,

Where honey-fuckles, ripen'd by the fun, • Forbid the fun to enter; like to favourites, • Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Againft that power that bred it: there will fhe hide To liften our purpofe: this is thy office;

Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, prefently.

[Exit.

Hero. Now, Urfula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk muft only be of Benedick.
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
Is fick in love with Beatrice; of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,

That only wounds by hear-fay. Now begin.

Enter Beatrice, running towards the arbour.
For look, where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Clofe by the ground to hear our conference.
Urf. The pleafant'ft angling is to fee the fish
Cut with her golden oars the filver ftream,
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 we go near her, that her ear lofe nothing
Of the falfe fweet bait that we lay for it.
No, truly, Urfula, fhe's too difdainful
I know her fpirits are as coy and wild
As baggards of the rock.

Urf. But are you fure,

;

That Benedick loves Beatrice fo entirely?

Hero. So fays the Prince, and my new-trothed Lord. Urf. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam ? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it, But I perfuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,

To wish him wrestle with affection,

And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urf. Why did you fo? doth not the gentleman Deferve as full, as fortunate a bed,

As ever Beatrice fhall couch upon ?

Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deferve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder ftuff than that of Beatrice.
Difdain and scorn ride fparkling in her eyes,
Mifprizing what they look on; and her wit
Values itself fo highly, that to her

All matter elfe feems weak; fhe cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is fo felf-endeared.

Urf. Sure I think fo;

man,

And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, left fhe make fport at it.
Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet
faw
How wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But he would fpell him backward. • If ́fair-fac'd,

She'd fwear the gentleman fhould be her fifter;
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed;
If low, an aglet very vilely cut;

If fpeaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If filent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns the every man the wrong fide out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which fimplenefs and merit purchaseth.

;

Urf. Sure, fure, fuch carping is not commendable. Hero. No; for to be fo odd, and from all fashions,

As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.

But who dare tell her fo? If I fhould speak,
She'd mock me into air; O fhe would laugh me
Out of myfelf, prefs me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Confume away in fighs, wafte inwardly;
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling.
Urf. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,