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Marg. A maid, and stuff'd! there's goodly catching of cold.

Beat, O, God help me, God help me, how long have you profefs'd apprehenfion?

Marg, Ever fince you left it; doth not my wit become me rarely?

Beat. It is not feen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am fick.

Marg. Get

you fome of this diftill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero. There thou prick'ft her with a thiftle..

Beat. Benedictus? why Benedictus ? you have fome moral in this. Benedictus.

Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no morak meaning, I meant plain holy-thiftle. You may think, perchance, that I think you are in love; nay, birlady, I am not fuch a fool to think what I lift; nor I lift not to think what I can; nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was fuch another, and now is he

become a man. He fwore he would never marry; and yet now, in defpight of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging and how you may be converted, I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as oaher women do..

:

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
Marg. Not a falfe gallop.

Enter Urfula..

Urf. Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church.

Hero. Help to drefs me, good coz, good Meg, good Urfula

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII. Anather apartment in Leonato's house.
Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.
Leon. What would you with me, honeft neighbour ?
Dogb Marry, Sir, I would have fome confidence
with you, that decerns you nearly

Leon. Brief, I pray you; for, you fee, 'tis a bufy time with me.

Dogb. Marry, this it is, Sir.

Verg. Yes, in truth it is, Sir.

Leon. What is it, my good friends?

Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, fpeaks a little of the matter; an old man, Sir, and his wits are not fo blunt, as, God help, I would defire they were; but, in faith, as honeft as the skin between his brows.

Verg. "Yes, I thank God, I am as honeft as any "man living, that is an old man, and no honester than " I."

Dogb. Comparisons are odorous; palabras, neighbour Verges.

the

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogb. It pleafes your Worship to fay fo, but we are poor Duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your Worship.

Leon. All thy tedioufnefs on me, ha?

Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your Worship as of any man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.

Verg. And fo am I.

Leon. I would fain know what you have to fay.

Verg. Marry, Sir, our watch to-night, excepting your Worship's prefence, hath ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Meflina.

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Dogb. "A good old man, Sir; he will be talking, as they fay; when the age is in, the wit is out; God help us, it is a world to fee: well faid, i' faith, neighbour Verges, well, he's a good man; an two men ride an horfe, one muft ride behind; an honeft "foul, i' faith, Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread; but God is to be worshipp'd; all men are $4 not alike, alas, good neighbour!"

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Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too fhort of
Dogb. Gifts, that God gives.

Leon. I must leave you.

you

Dogb. One word, Sir; our watch have, indeed, comprehended two aufpicious perfons; and we would

A& IV. have them this morning examin'd before your Worship. Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me; I am now in great hafte, as may appear unto you. Dogb. It fhall be fuffigance.

Leon. Drink fome wine ere you go: fare you well.

Enter a messenger.

Meff. My Lord, they ftay for you to give your. daughter to her husband.

Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Ex. Leon. Dogb. Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine thofe men.

Verg. And we must do it wifely.

Only

Dogb. "We will fpare for no wit, I warrant; here's "that fhall drive fome of them to a non-come." get the learned writer to fet down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail..

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Church.

[Exeunt.

Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio,. Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice.

Ome, Friar Francis, be brief, only to the

Leon plain form of marriage, and you shall re

count their particular duties afterwards.

Friar. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady?

Claud. No.

Leon. To be marry'd to her, Friar; you come to marry her.

Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count?

Hero. I do.

Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment. why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your. fouls to utter it.

Claud. Know you any, Hero?

Hero. None, my Lord.

Friar. Know you any, Count?

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Leon. I dare make his answer, None.

Claud. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! not knowing what they do!

Bene. How now! interjections? why, then fome be of laughing, as Ha, ha, he!

Claud. Stand thee by, Friar.

Father, by your leave, Will you with free and unconftrained foul

Give me this maid your daughter?

Leon. As freely, fon, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whofe worth

May counterpoife this rich and precious gift?

Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.

Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulThere, Leonato, take her back again;

Give not this rotten orange to your friend.

r;

She's but the fign and femblance of her honour
Behold, how like a maid fhe blushes here!
O, what authority and fhew of truth
Can cunning fin cover itfelf withal!
Comes not that blood, as modeft evidence,
To witness fimple virtue? would you not fwear,
All you that fee her, that he were a maid,
Bv these exterior fhews? But he is none

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She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltinefs, not modefty.

Leon. What do you mean, my Lord?
Claud. Not to be marry'd,

Nor knit my foul to an approved wanton.

[nefs :

Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own approof Have vanquish'd the refiftance of her youth,

And made defeat of her virginity

Claud. I know what you would fay: if I have

in known her,

You'll fay the did embrace me as a husband,

And fo extenuate the forehand fin.

No, Leonato,

I

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never tempted her with word too large;

But, as a brother to his fifter, fhew'd

Bashful fincerity, and comely love.

Hero. And feem'd I ever otherwife to you?

Claud, Out on thy feeming! I will rate against it;

You feem to me as Dian in her orb,

As chafte as is the bud ere it be blown :
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or thofe pamper'd animals

That rage in favage fenfuality.

Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth fpeak fo wide?
Leon. Sweet Prince, why speak not you?
Pedro. What fhould I speak?

I ftand difhonour'd, that have gone about

To link my dear friend to a common ftale.

Leon. Are thefe things spoken, or do I but dream? John. Sir, they are spoken, and thefe things are true. Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.

Hero. True! O God!

Claud. Leonato, ftand I here?

Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother?
Is this face Hero's are our eyes our own?

Leon. All this is fo; but what of this, my Lord? Claud. Let me but move one queftion to your daughAnd, by that fatherly and kindly power

That you have in her, bid her answer truly.

[ter,

Leon. I charge thee do fo, as thou art my child.
Hero. O God defend me, how am I befet!

What kind of catechifing call you this?

Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any juft reproach?

Claud. Marry, that can Hero;

Hero herself can blot out Hero's virtue.

What man was he talk'd with you yesternight
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.

Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord.
Pedro. Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato,
I am forry, you must hear; upon mine honour,
Myfelf, my brother, and this grieved Count
Did fee her, hear her, at that hour last night,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window;
Who hath indeed, like an illiberal villain,
Confefs'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in feeret.

John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord,

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