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

6

Where honey-fuckles, ripen'd by the fun,

• Forbid the fun to enter; like to favourites,
• Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it:' there will fhe hide
To liften our purpose: this is thy office;
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, presently.
[Exit.

Hero. Now, Urfula, 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 praife 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 pleafant'ft angling is to fee the fifh
Cut with her golden oars the filver 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 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 haggards 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,

Το

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 shall 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 stuff than that of Beatrice.
Difdain and fcorn 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 fhape nor project of affection,
She is fo felf-endeared.

Urf. 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 faw man,
How wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But fhe would spell him backward. If fair-face'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 peaking, 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 fpeak,
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 fay.
Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,

And

And counfel him to fight against his paffion.
And, truly, I'll devife fome honeft flanders
To ftain my coufin with; one doth not know
How much an ill word may impoifon liking.

Urf. O, do not do your coufin fuch a wrong.
She cannot be fo much without true judgment,
(Having fo fwift and excellent a wit

As fhe 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 fhape, for bearing, argument, and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name.
Urf. 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 fhew thee fome attires, and have thy counsel Which is the beft to furnish me to-morrow.

Urf. She's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught her, Madam.

Hero. If it prove fo, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupids kill with arrows, fome with traps. [Exeunt.

Beatrice, advancing.

Beat. What fire is in my ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and fcorn so much? Contempt, farewe!! and maiden-pride, adieu!

No glory lives behind the back of fuch.
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee;

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;
If thou doft love, thy kindnefs fhall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band.
For others fay, thou doft deferve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly.

SCENE II.

[Exit.

Leonato's houfe.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.

Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be confummate, and then go I toward Arragon.

1.

Claud.

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 glofs of your marriage, as to fhew a child his new coat, and forbid him 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-ftring, 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

Claud. You must hang it firft, 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 mafter a grief but he that has it

66

Claud. Yet fay I, he is in love

Pedro. "There is no appearance of fancy in him, "unless it be a fancy that he hath to ftrange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the fhape of two countries at once; a "German from the wafte downward, all flops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet Unlefs he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is.

66

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

Pedro. Fath any man feen him at the barber`s ? Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the oli ornament of his cheek hath already fuff'd tennis-balls.

VOL. II.

E

Leon.

Leon. Indeed he looks younger than he did by the lofs of a beard.

Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet; can you fmell him out by that?

Claud, That's as much as to fay, 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? Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they fay of him.

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

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 fhall be bury'd with her face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old Signior, walk afide with me; I have study'd eight or nine wife words to speak to you, which thefe hobbyhorfes must not hear [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.

Claud. 'Tis even fo. 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 fave you.
Pedro Good den, brother

John. If your leisure ferv'd, I would speak 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 Lordship, to be marry'd to-morrow?

Pedro. You know he does,

[To Claudio.

John.