Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night!

Yearly will I do this rite.

D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters: put your torches

out.

The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about

Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters: each his way can tell. [Exeunt Torch-bearers. D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weed; And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-A Room in LEONATO's House. Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENedick, Beatrice, URSULA, Friar, and HERO.

And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow,
And got a calf in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.

Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked. Claud. For this I owe you: here come other reckonings.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Leon. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine.-Sweet, let me see your face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear 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? Hero.

Nothing certainer.

Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd.
The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To visit me.-You know your office, brother;
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.

[Exeunt Ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of them.-
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: 'tis most true.
Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.
Leon. The sight 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 stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
In the state of honourable marriage :

In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar.

Here come the prince, and Claudio.

And my help.

Enter Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO, with Attendants. D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio: 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 she an Ethiop.
Leon. Call her forth, brother: here's the friar ready.
[Exit ANTONIO.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's
the matter,

That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull.—
Tush! fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee,
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;

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

D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; When after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: Mean time, let wonder seem familiar, And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar.-Which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that name. [Unmasking.] What is your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?

Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her;
For here's a paper, written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero.
And here's another,
Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n 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.

Beat. I would not deny you;-but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and, partly, to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth.

D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the

world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it, for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but, in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.

Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends.-Let's have a

dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterward.

Bene. First, of my word; therefore, play, music!— Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife : there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. 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 devise thee brave punishments for him.-Strike up, pipers. [Dance of all the Actors.

SCENE I.-Navarre.

A Park, with a Palace in it.
Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE.
King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register'd upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring time,
Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.

Therefore, brave conquerors!-for so you are,
That war against your own affections,
And the huge army of the world's desires,-
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force.
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world:
Our court shall be a little Academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Biron, Dumaine, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years' term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes,
That are recorded in this schedule here: [Showing it.
Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names,
That his own hand may strike his honour down,
That violates the smallest branch herein.
If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep them too.
Long. I am resolv'd: 'tis but a three years' fast.
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.
Dum. My loving lord, Dumaine is mortified.
The grosser manner of this world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die,
With all these living in philosophy.

Biron. I can but say their protestation over;
So much, dear liege, I have already sworn,
That is, to live and study here three years.
But there are other strict observances;
As, not to see a woman in that term,

Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there:
And, one day in a week to touch no food,
And but one meal on every day beside,
The which, I hope, is not enrolled there:
And then, to sleep but three hours in the night,
And not be seen to wink of all the day,
When I was wont to think no harm all night,
And make a dark night, too, of half the day,
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there.
O! these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,
Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.

King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these.
Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please.
I only swore to study with your grace,
And stay here in your court for three years' space.
Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.
Biron. By yea, and nay, sir, then I swore in jest.
What is the end of study, let me know?

King. Why, that to know which else we should not know.

Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense?

King. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense.
Biron. Come on, then: I will swear to study so,
To know the thing I am forbid to know;
As thus, to study where I well may dine,
When I to feast expressly am forbid;
Or study where to meet some mistress fine,
When mistresses from common sense are hid;
Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath,
Study to break it, and not break my troth.
If study's gain be this, and this be so,
Study knows that which yet it doth not know.
Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.

King. These be the stops that hinder study quite,

And train our intellects to vain delight.

Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain: As painfully to pore upon a book,

To seek the light of truth; while truth the while

Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:
Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile.
So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
Study me how to please the eye indeed,

By fixing it upon a fairer eye;
Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And give him light that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,

That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks: Small have continual plodders ever won,

Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights,

Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. Too much to know is to know nought but fame; And every godfather can give a name.

King. How well he's read, to reason against reading! Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding.

Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are a breeding.

Dum. How follows that? Biron.

Fit in his place and time.

Dum. In reason nothing.
Biron.
Something, then, in rhyme.
King. Biron is like an envious sneaping frost,
That bites the first-born infants of the spring.
Biron. Well, say I am: why should proud summer
boast,

Before the birds have any cause to sing?

Why should I joy in any abortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a rose,

Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But like of each thing that in season grows.
So you, by study now it is too late,
Climb o'er the house-top to unlock the gate.

King. Well, set you out: go home, Biron: adieu!
Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay

with you:

And, though I have for barbarism spoke more,
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
Yet confident I'll keep to what I swore,

And bide the penance of each three years' day.
Give me the paper: let me read the same;
And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.
King. How well this yielding rescues thee from
shame!

Biron. [Reads.] Item, "That no woman shall come within a mile of my court."- Hath this been proclaim'd?

Long. Four days ago.

Biron. Let's see the penalty. [Reads.] "On pain of losing her tongue."-Who devis'd this penalty? Long. Marry, that did I. Biron. Sweet lord, and why? Long. To fright them hence with that dread penalty. Biron. A dangerous law against garrulity! [Reads.] Item, "If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise."

This article, my liege, yourself must break;

For, well you know, here comes in embassy The French king's daughter with yourself to speak,— A maid of grace, and complete majesty,About surrender up of Aquitain

To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father:

"Therefore, this article is made in vain,

Or vainly comes th' admired princess rather. King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite forgot. Biron. So study evermore is overshot: While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should; And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost. King. We must of force dispense with this decree: She must lie here on mere necessity.

Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years' space; For every man with his affects is born,

Not by might master'd, but by special grace.

If I break faith, this word shall plead for me,

I am forsworn on mere necessity.

So to the laws at large I write my name; [Subscribes. And he, that breaks them in the least degree, Stands in attainder of eternal shame.

Suggestions are to others, as to me; But, I believe, although I seem so loth, I am the last that will last keep his oath. But is there no quick recreation granted? King. Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is

haunted

With a refined traveller of Spain;

A man in all the world-new fashions flaunted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his brain :
One, whom the music of his own vain tongue
Doth ravish like enchanting harmony;
A man of complements, whom right and wrong
Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:
This child of fancy, that Armado hight,

For interim to our studies, shall relate

In high-born words the worth of many a knight
From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate.
How you delight, my lords, I know not, I,
But, I protest, I love to hear him lie,
And I will use him for my minstrelsy.

Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight,

A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight.
Long. Costard, the swain, and he shall be our sport;
And so to study three years is but short.

Enter DULL, with a letter, and COSTARD. Dull. Which is the duke's own person? Biron. This, fellow. What would'st? Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's tharborough; but I would see his own person in flesh and blood.

Biron. This is he.

Dull. Signior Arm-Arm-commends you. There's villainy abroad: this letter will tell you more.

Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me. King. A letter from the magnificent Armado. Biron. How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words.

Long. A high hope for a low hearing: God grant us patience!

Biron. To hear, or forbear hearing?

Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to forbear both.

Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to chime in in the merriness.

Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the

manner.

Biron. In what manner?

Cost. In manner and form following, sir; all those three: I was seen with her in the manor house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following her into

the park; which, put together, is, in manner and form following. Now, sir, for the manner,—it is the manner of a man to speak to a woman; for the form,-in some form.

Biron. For the following, sir?

Cost. As it shall follow in my correction; and God defend the right!

King. Will you hear this letter with attention?
Biron. As we would hear an oracle.

Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.

King. [Reads.] "Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent, and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's God, and body's fostering patron,-"

Cost. Not a word of Costard yet.

King. "So it is,-"

Cost. It may be so; but if he say it is so, he is, in telling true, but so,— King. Peace!

Cost. -be to me, and every man that dares not fight. King. No words.

Cost. of other men's secrets, I beseech you. King. "So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. The time when? About the sixth hour; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper. So much for the time when. Now for the ground which; which, I mean, I walked upon: it is ycleped thy park. Then for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous event, that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest. But to the place, where :-it standeth north-north-east and by east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden: there did I see that low-spirited swain, that base minnow of thy mirth,"

Cost. Me.

King."-with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. Him I (as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on) have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Antony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation."

Dull. Me, an't shall please you: I am Antony Dull. King. "For Jaquenetta, (so is the weaker vessel called) which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain, I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all complements of devoted and heart burning heat of duty,

"DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO."

Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard.

King. Did you hear the proclamation? Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.

King. It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment to be taken with a wench.

Cost. I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a damsel.

King. Well, it was proclaimed damsel.

Cost. This was no damsel neither, sir: she was a virgin. King. It is so varied, too, for it was proclaimed virgin. Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.

King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir. Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir. King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast a week with bran and water.

Cost. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.

King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper.-
My lord Biron, see him deliver'd o'er:
And go we, lords, to put in practice that
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.

[Exeunt KING, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE.
Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.
Dull. Sirrah, come on.

Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir: for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and, therefore, welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again, and till then, set thee down, sorrow! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-ARMADO'S House in the Park. Enter ARMADO and Moтн, his page. Arm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?

Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. Arm. Why? sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.

Moth. No, no; O lord! sir, no.

Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?

Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior.

Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior?

Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal? Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.

Moth. And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough. Arm. Pretty, and apt.

Moth. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt; or I apt, and my saying pretty? Arm. Thou pretty, because little.

Moth. Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt?
Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.
Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master?
Arm. In thy condign praise.

Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise.
Arm. What, that an eel is ingenious?
Moth. That an eel is quick.

Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers. Thou heatest my blood.

Moth. I am answered, sir.

Arm. I love not to be crossed.

Moth. [Aside.] He speaks the mere contrary:

Cost. Sir, I confess the wench.

Arm. I have promised to study three years with the duke.