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beat him ; I am sure, he is in the fleet; I would, he had boarded me.

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

Beat. Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark’d, or not laugh'd at, strikes 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.

[Mzfick within. Bene. In every good thing.

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

[Exeunt. 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 Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: the ladies follow her, and but one vizor remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio ; I know him by his Bearing.
John. Are you not Signior Benedick??
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, dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth ; you may do the part

of an honeft man in it.
Claud. How know ye, he loves her?
John. I heard him swear his affection.
Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would

marry her to night. John. Come, let us to the banquet.

{Exeunt John and Bor. Claud. Thus answer I in the name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so, the Prince wooes for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love; , Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues, Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.

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This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I miftrusted not. Farewel then, Hero!

Enter Benedick,
Bene. Count Claudio ?
Claud. Yea, the same.
Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claud. Whither ?

Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own bufiness, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an Usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a Lieutenant's scarf? you must wear iç one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.

Claud. I wish him joy of her.

Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; fo they sell bullocks: but did you think, the Prince would have served you thus?

Claud. I pray you, leave me.

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man ; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.

Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit.

Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into fedges. But that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! the Prince's fool! ha! it may be, I go under that Title, because I am merry; yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong: I am not so reputed. It is the base (tho' bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may.

Enter Don Pedro. Pedro. Now, Signior, where's the Count? did you see him?

Bene. Troth, my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the Will of this young lady, and I offer’d him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt,

Pedro.

Pedro. To be whipt! what's his fault ?

Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who, being over-joy'd with finding a bird's nest, Thews it his companion, and he steals it.

Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression ? the transgression is in the sealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestow'd on you, who (as I take it) have stol’n his bird's nest.

Pedro. I will but teach them to fing, and restore them. to the owner.

Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly.

Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you ; the gentleman, that danc’d with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you.

Bene. O, the misus’d me past the indurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very visor began to assume life, and fcold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jefter, and that I was duller than a great thaw ; (7) hudling jest upon jest, with such impassable conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me; the speaks Ponyards, and every word stabs; if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the NorthStar; I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he tranfgress'd; Mhe would have made Hercules have turn'd spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk Rot of her, you shall find her the infernal Até in good

(7)

-budling jest upon jeft, with such impoflible conveyance upes me) Thus all the printed copies; but I freely confess, I can't posibly understand the phrase. I have ventur'd to substitute impassable. To inake a Pass (in Fencing,) is, to thrust, push : and by impafiable, presume, the poet meant, that she push'd her jests upon him with such Swiftness, that it was impossible for him to pas them off, to

apparel.

parry them.

I can

apparel. I would to God, fome fcholar would conjure her ; for, certainly, while she is here a man may live as quiet in hell as in a fanctuary, and people fin upon purpose, because they would go thither; fo, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her.

Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero. Pedro. Look, here she comes.

Bene. Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the lightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the farthest inch of Asia ; bring you the length of Prefter John's foot ; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard ; do you any ambassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy; you have no employment for me?

Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.

Bene. O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. not indure this Lady Tongue.

[Exit. Pedro. Come, Lady, come ; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick.

Beat. Indeed, my Lord, he lent it me a while, and I gave

him use for it, a double heart for a single one ; marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore

your
Grace

may well say, I have lost it. Pedro. You have put him down, Lady, you have put him down.

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools: I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.

Pedro. Why, how now, Count, wherefore are you sad?
Claud. Not sad, my Lord.
Pedro. How then ? sick ?
Claud. Neither, my Lord.

Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor fick, nor merry, nor well; but civil, Count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.

Pedro. I'faith, Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. VOL. II.

B

Here

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Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair
Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his
good will obtained; name the day of marriage, and
God give thee joy:

Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match, and all grace fay, Amen, to it.

Beat. Speak, Count, 'tis your cue.

Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours : I give away myself for you, and doat upon the exchange.

Beat. Speak, Cousin, or if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither.

Pedro. In faith, Lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat. Yea, my Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care; my cousin tells him in bis ear that he is in her heart.

Claud. And so she doth, cousin.

Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd; I may fit in a corner, and cry heigh ho! for a husband.

Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beat. I would rather have one of your Father's getting: hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you ? your Father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

Pedro. Will you have me, Lady?

Beat. No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working-days; your Grace is too costly to wear every day: but, I beseech your Grace, pardon me, I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be

merry beit becomes you; for, out of question, you were born

Beat. No, sure, my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a star danc'd, and under that I was bcra. Cousins, God give you joy.

Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? 4

Beat.

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in a merry hour.

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