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Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Urfula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; fay, that thou overheard'st us;
And bid hear steal into the pleached bower,
• Where honey-fuckles, ripen'd by the sun,
• Forbid the fun to enter; like to favourites,

Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it:' there will the hide
To listen our purpose: this is thy office;
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, presently.

Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must 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
Close by the ground to hear our conference.
· Urf. The pleasant't 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 we go 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 haggards of the rock.

Urf. But are you fure,
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

Hero. So says 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 persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,


To with him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urf. 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,
Nisprizing what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter elle seems weak; she cannot love, .
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is fo self-endeared.

Urj. 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-faced, • She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister; • 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 speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; • If silent, why, a block moved with none.' So turns the every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue that Which fimpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urf. Sure, lure, such carping is not commendable.

Hero. No; for to be so odd, and from all fashions,
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 laugla 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.

Urf. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will fay.
Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,


And counsel him to fight against his pallion.
And, truly, I'll devise fome honest flanders
To'itain my cousin with; one doth not know
How much an ill word may impoison liking.

Urf. 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 priz’d to have), as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Benedick.

Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urf. I pray you be not angry with me, Madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, Gces foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name.

Urs. 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 cornfel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Urs. She’s lim’d, I warrant you; we have caught her, Madam.

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

[Exeunt, Beatrice, advancing. Beat. 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 thall incite thee

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

[Exit. SCENE II.

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

Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, 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 shew a child his new coat, and forbid hiin to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company: for, from the crown of his head to the fole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-tring, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart as found as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper ; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So fay I; methinks you are fadder. Claud. I hope he is in love. Pedro. Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love if he be fad, he wants money.

Bene. I have the tooth-ach.
Pedro Draw it.
Bene. Hang it
Clad. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
Pedro. What! figh 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, « unless it be a fancy that he hath to itrange disguites;

as to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-mor

row; or in the shape of two countries at once ; a. " German from the walte downward, all flops; and

a Spaniara from the hip upward, no doublet lefs he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to

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appear he is.

Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old figns : he brushes his hat o’mornings; what should that bode>

Pedro. Fiath any man teen him at the barber's ?

Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been teen with him; and the ol i ornament of his cheek hath already fufd tennis-balls, Vol. II.



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 fweet youth's in love.

Pedro. The greateft note of it is his melancholy. Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face ?

Pedra. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.

Claud. Nay, but his jefting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string, and now govern'd by stops

Pedro. Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude he is in love.

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.

Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him.

Pedro. She shall be bury'd with her face upwards.

Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach, Old Signior, walk aside with me; I have study'd eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which thefe hobbyhorses must not hear [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.

Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Bea. trice.

Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice ; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet.

SCENE III. Enter Don John. John, My Lord and brother, God save you. Pedro, Good den, brother John. If your leiíure serv'd, I would speaķ with you, Pedro. In private ?

John. If it please you ; yet Count Claudio may hear ; for what I would speak of, concerns him.

Pedro. What's the matter ?

John Means your Lordthip to be marry'd to-morrow ?

[To Claudio. Pedro. You know he does,


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