-

fay, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witnefs and virtuous; 'tis fo, I cannot reprove it: and wife, but for loving me by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance to have fome odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd fo long againft marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quipps and fentences, and these paper-bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? no: the world must be peopled. When I faid, I would die a batchelor, I did not think I fhould live 'till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day, fhe's a fair lady; I do fpy fome marks of love in her.

Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Against my will, I am fent to bid you come in to dinner.

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleasure then in the message.

Beat. Yea, juft fo much as you may take upon a knife's 's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no ftomach, Signior; fare you well.

[Exit. Bene. Ha! against my will I am fent to bid you come in to dinner : there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for thofe thanks, than you took pains to thank me ;- that's as much as to fay, any pains that I take for you is as eafie as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a few; I will go get her Picture.

[Exit.

蘇崇

ACT

STA

RD MCAT

A C T III.

SCENE continues in the Orchard.

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Urfula.

HERO.

G

OOD Margaret, run thee into the parlour,
There fhalt thou find my Coufin Beatrice,
Propofing with the Prince and Claudio;
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 her fteal into the pleached Bower,
Where honey-fuckles, ripen'd by the Sun,
Forbid the Sun to enter; like to Favourites,
Made proud by Princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it: there will the hide her,
To liften our Propofe; this is thy office,

Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, prefently. [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.

Urfu. The pleafant'st angling is to see the fish

Cut

Cut with her golden oars the filver ftream,
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 go we near her, that her ear lofe nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.
No, truly, Urfula, fhe's too disdainful;
I know, her fpirits are as coy and wild
As haggerds of the rock.

Urfu. But are you sure,

That Benedick loves Beatrice fo intirely?

Hero. So fays the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. Urfu. 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, To with him wraftle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urfu. Why did you fo? doth not the Gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,

As ever Beatrice fhall 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 ftuff than that of Beatrice.
Difdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Mif-prizing what they look on; and her wit
Values it felf fo highly, that to her
All matter else feems weak; fhe cannot love,
Nor take no fhape nor project of affection,
She is fo felf-indeared."

Urfu. Sure, I think fo;

And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, left she make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you fpeak truth. I never yet saw man,
How wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But fhe would fpell him backward; if fair-fac'd,
She'd fwear, the gentleman fhould be her fifter;
If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed ;

If low, an Aglet very vilely cut; (10)
If fpeaking, why, a vane blown with all winds ;.
If filent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns fhe every man the wrong fide out,
And never gives to truth and virtue That,
Which fimpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urfu. 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 speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of my felf, 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.

Urfu. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,
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 impaison liking,

Urfu. 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

(10) If low, an Agat very vilely out; ] But why an Agat, if Jow? And what. Shadow of Likeness between a little Man and an Agat? The Antients, indeed, ufed this Stone to cut in, and upon; but moft exquifitely. I make no queftion but the Poet wrote;

an Aglet very vilely cut;

An Aglet was the Tagg of thofe Points, formerly fo much in Fashion. These Taggs were either of Gold, Silver, or Brass, according to the Quality of the Wearer; and were commonly in the Shape of little Images; or at leaft had a Head cut at the Extremity, as is feen at the End of the Start of old-fashion'd Spoons. And as a tall Man is before compar'd to a Launce ill-headed; fo, by the fame Figure, a little Man is very aptly liken'd to an Aglet ill-ent, Mr. Warburton.

So

So rare a gentleman as Benedick.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urfu. 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.
Urfu. 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.

Urfu. 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, 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 fo much?
Contempt, farewel! 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 kindness 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.

[Exit.

SCENE, Leonato's House.

Pedro. and then go I toward Arragon.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.' be confummate, Claud. I'll bring you thither my lord, if you'll vouchfafe me.

stay

Pedro. Nay, That would be as great a foil in the new glofs