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BEATRICE advances.

Beat. What fire is in my ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?

Contempt, farewell! 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, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band :
For others say, thou dost deserve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly.

Beatrice and Benedick are successfully played upon, and a mutual affi between them.

A double plot is now developed. Don John, brother to Pedro, contented man, is jealous of Claudio's interest with the Prince, and detern himself. For this purpose he plans with his servant, Borachio, to throw s character of Hero. Don John undertakes to place the Prince and Claudio near Hero's chamber window, while Borachio addresses Margaret, Hero's v by the name of her mistress, while she returns the greeting most familiarly

Borachio, returning from this interview, meets his fellow servant, Cor he discloses the business he had been engaged in. They are overheard by and are taken in custody.

The following scene introduces one of Shakspeare's most celebrat Dogberry, the constable, is a masterpiece of humor, the type of a clas supercilious "Jack in office."

SCENE III.-A Street.

Enter DOGBERry and Verges, with the Watch.

Dogb. Are you good men and true?

Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suff

pody and soul.

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to stay a man against his will.

Verg. By'r lady, I think it be so.

Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: an the matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows and your own, and good night. -Come, neighbor.

2nd Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.

Dogb. One word more, honest neighbors: I pray you, w signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there t there is a great coil to-night: Adieu, be vigilant, I beseech [Exeunt DOGBERRY and

Enter BORACHIO and CONRADE.

Bora. What! Conrade,

Watch. Peace, stir not.

Bora. Conrade, I say !

Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow.

Bora. Stand thee close then under this pent-house, for rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch. [Aside.] -Some treason, masters; yet stand clo Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a

ducats.

Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible a should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones may make what price they will.

Con. I wonder at it.

Bora. That shows, thou art unconfirmed: Thou knowe fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to am

Con. Yes, it is apparel.

Bora. I mean, the fashion.

Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.

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And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth: -Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading, nor my observations,
Which with experimental zeal doth warrant
The tenor of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

Leon.

Friar, it cannot be :

Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left,
Is, that she will not add to her damnation

A sin of perjury; she not denies it :

Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?

Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?
Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know none:

If I know more of any man alive,

Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy!-O my father,
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.

Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes
Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honor;

And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.

Leon. I know not; If they speak but truth of her,
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honor,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,

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