Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true.
Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.
Leon. The fight whereof, I think, you had from me,
From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will ?
Bene. Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical;
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May ftand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
l' th' ftate of honourable marriage;

In which, good Friar, I fhall defire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.

Friar. And my help.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants.

Pedro. Good-morrow to this fair affembly.

Leon. Good-morrow, Prince; good-morrow, Claudió, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?

Claud. I'll hold my mind, were the an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready. [Exit Antonio. Pedro. Good-morrow, Benedick; why, what's the matter, That you have fuch a February face,

So full of froft, of storm and cloudiness?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the favage bull: Tufh, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And fo all Europe fhall rejoice at thee;

As once Europa did at lufty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low,

And fome fuch ftrange bull leapt your father's cow;
And got a calf, in that fame noble feat,
Much like to you; for you have just his bleat.

Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Urfula, mask'd.

Claud. For this I owe you; here come other reck'nings. Which is the lady I muit feize upon?

At. This fame is the, and I do give you her.

Claud

Claud. Why, then fhe's mine; Sweet, let me fee your face.

Leon. No, that you fhall not, 'till you take her hand Before this Friar, and fwear to marry her.

Claud. Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband if you like of me.

Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife,

[Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero? (22)

Hero. Nothing certainer.

One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live;

And, furely, as I live, I am a maid.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!

Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her flander liv'd.
Friar. All this amazement can I qualify.

When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time let wonder feem familiar,
And to the chapel let us prefently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice ?
Beat. I answer to that name; what is your will?
Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat. Why, no, no more than reason.

Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they fwore, you did. Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no, no more than reafon.

Beat. Why, then my Coufin, Margaret and Urfula, Have been deceiv'd; for they did fwear, you did.

(22) Claud. Another Hero!

Hero.

Nothing certainer':

One Hero dy'd; but I do live,

And furely as I live I am a Maid.] Befides that the laft Line but One wants a whole Foot in Measure, it is as defective in the Meaning: For how are the Words mede out? One Ho dy'd, and yet that Hero lives, but how is She then another Hero? The Supplement, which I have reftor'd from the old Quarto, felves all the Difficulty, and makes the laft Line reafonable.

Bene.

Bene. They fwore, you were almost fick for me. Beat. They fwore, you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. "Tis no matter; then you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence.

Leon. Come, Coufin, I am fure, you love the gentleman. Claud. And I'll be fworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper written in his hand,

A halting fonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero. And here's another,

Writ in my Coufin's hand, ftolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light I, take thee for pity.

(23) Beat. I would yet deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great perfuafion, and partly to fave your life; for as I was told, you were in a confumption. (24) Bene. Peace, I will top your mouth.

[Kiffing br. Pedro. How doft thou, Benedick, the married man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: doft thou think, I care for a fatire, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he fhall wear nothing hand

(23) I would not deny you, but by this good day I yield upon great perfuafion, &c.] Is not this frange Mock-reafoning in Bea trice? She would not deny him, but that the yields upon great Perfuafion.. By changing the Negative, I make no doubt but I have retriev'd the Poet's Humour.

(24) Leon. Peace, I will flop your Mouth.] What can Leguate mean by This? "Nay, pray, peace, Niece; don't keep up this "Obftinacy of Profefiions, for I have Proofs to flop your. Mouth." The ingenious Dr. Thirlby agreed with me, that this ought to be given to Bencdick, who, upon faying it, kifles Beatrice: and this being done before the whole Company, how natural is the Reply which the Prince makes upon it?

How doft thou, Benedick, the married Man?

Befides, this Mode of Speech, preparatory to a Salute, is familiar to our Poet in common with other Stage-Writers.

fome

fome about him; in brief, fince I do purpofe to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can fay against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have faid againft it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclufion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinfman, live unbruis'd, and love my coufin.

Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy fingle life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of queftion, thou wilt be, if my Coufin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends; let's have a Dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play, mufick. Prince, thou art fad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn.

Enter Meffenger.

Me. My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina.

Bene. Think not on him 'till to-morrow: I'll devife thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers.

[Dance.

[Exeunt omnes.