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And I will fit thee with the remedy.

I know, we shall have revelling to-night;
I will assume thy part in some disguise,
And tell fair Hero, I am Claudio;
And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart,
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong encounter of my amorous tale:
Then, after, to her father will I break ;
And, the conclusion is: she shall be thine.
In practice let us put it presently.

time, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me.
Con. Can you make no use of your discontent?
D. John. I make all use of it, for I use it only.-Who
comes here? What news, Borachio?

Enter BORACHIO.

Bora. I came yonder from a great supper; the prince, your brother, is royally entertained by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage.

D. John.Will it serve for any model to build mischief [Exeunt. on? What is he for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietness?

SCENE II.-Aroom in Leonato's house.
Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO.

Leon. How now, brother? Where is my cousin, your son? Hath he provided this music?

Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamed not of. Leon. Are they good?

Ant. As the event stamps them ; but they have a good cover, they show well outward. The prince and count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in my orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine: the prince discovered to Claudio, that he loved my niece, your daugther, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top,and instantly break with you of it.

Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this? Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him, and question him yourself.

Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand.
D. John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio?

Bora. Even he.

D. John. A proper squire! And who, and who? which way looks he?

Bora. Marry, on Hero, the dangther and heir of Leonato.

D. John. A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?

Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference: I whipt me behind the arras; and there heard it agreed upon, that the prince should wooHero for himself,and, having obtained her, give her to count Claudio.

D. John. Come, come, let us thither; this may prove food to my displeasure: that young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any way, bless myself every way: you are both sure, and will Con. To the death, my lord.

I Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a dream, till it ap-assist me? pear itself:- but I will acquaint my daugther withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you, and tell her of it. [Several persons cross the stage.] Cousins, you know what you have to do. -O, I cry you mercy, friend; you go with me, and I will use your skill. Good cousins, have a care this busy time! [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—Another room in Leonato's house.

Enter Don JOHN and CONRADE.

D. John. Let us to the great supper; their cheer is the greater, that I am subdued. 'Would the cook were of my mind! - Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.

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SCENE I.-A hall in Leonato's house.
Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others.

Con. What the goujere, my lord! why are you thus Leon. Was not count John here at supper?
out of measure sad?

D. John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit. Con. You should hear reason.

D. John. And, when I have heard it, what blessing bringeth it?

Con.If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance. D. John. I wonder, that thou, being (as thou say'st thou art)born under Saturn,goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad, when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat, when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep, when I am drowsy, and tend to no man's business; laugh, when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour.

Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, till you may do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace; where it is impossible you should take true root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself: it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest.

Ant. I saw him not.

Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him, but I am heart-burned an hour after. Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedick: the one is too like an image, and says nothing; and the other, too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling. Leon. Then half signior Benedick's tongue in count John's mouth, and half count John's melancholy in signior Benedick's face.

Beat. With a good-leg, and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world,—if he could get her good will. Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. Ant. In faith, she is too curst.

Beat. Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God's sending that way for it is said, God sends a curst cow short horns; but to a cow too curst he sends none. Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.

D. John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be dis-blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and dain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love evening; Lord! I could not endure a husband with a from any. In this, though I cannot be said to be a flat-beard on his face; I had rather lie in the woollen. tering honest man, it must not be denied, that I am a Leon. You may light upon a husband that hath no plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle, and beard. enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage: IfI had my month, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean

Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? He, that hath a beard, is more than a youth; and he, that

hath no beard, is less than a man: and he, that is more than a youth,is not for me;and he, that is less than a man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell. Leon. Well then, go you into hell!

Beat. No; but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say, Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here's no place for you maids! So deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the heavens: he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.

Ant. Well, niece, [To Hero.] I trust you will be ruled by your father.

Beat. Yes, faith; 'tis my cousin's duty to make courtesy, and say, Father, as it please you:-but yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say, Father, as it please me. Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren; and truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.

Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your

answer.

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Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head. Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were the very man. Here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he! Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urs. Come, come; do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to,mum, you are he: graces will appear, and there's an end. Beat. Will you not tell me, who told you so ?; Bene. No, you shall pardon me.

Beat. Nor will you not tell me, who you are?
Bene. Not now.

Beat. That I was disdainful,-and that I had my good wit out of the Hundred merry Tales; — well, this was signior Benedick that said so.

Bene. What's he?

Beat. I am sure, you know him well enough.
Bene. Not I, believe me.

Beat. Did he never make you laugh? Bene. I pray you, what is he? Beat. Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him: I am sure he is in the fleet; I would he had boarded me.

Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time: if the prince be too important, tell him, there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the answer. For hear me, Hero; wooing, Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what wedding, and repeuting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, you say. and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Beat. Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or two Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, man-on me; which,peradventure,not marked,or not laughnerly-modest, as a measure full of state and ancien-ed at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there's try; and then comes repentance, and, with his bad a partridge's wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he that night. [Music within.] We must follow the leadsink into his grave. Bene. In every good thing.

Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by day-light.

Leon. The revellers are entering; brother, make good room!

Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHAZAR; Don JOHN, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA, and others,

masked.

D. Pedro. Lady, will y I you walk about with your friend? Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and, especially, when I walk away.

D. Pedro. With me in your company? Hero. I may say so, when I please. D. Pedro. And when please you to say so Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend, the lute should be like the case!

so?

D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.

Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd.
D. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love.
[Takes her aside.
Bene. Well, I would you did like me.
Marg. So would not I, for your own sake; for I have

many ill qualities.

Bene. Which is one?

Marg. I say my prayers aloud.

ers.

Beat.Nay,if they lead to any ill,I will leave them at the next turning. [Dance; then exeunt all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio.

D. John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: the ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing. D. John. Are not you signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well; I am he.

D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth: you may do the part of an honest mau in it.

Claud. How know you he loves her? D. John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night.

D. John. Gome, let us to the banquet!

[Exeunt Don John and Borachio. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.'Tis certain so ;-the prince wooes for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love:

Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself,

And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch,

Bene. Ilove you the better; the hearers may cry, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. Amen.

Marg. God match me with a good dancer!

Balth. Amen.

This is an accident of hourly proof,

Which I mistrusted not: farewell, therefore, Hero!

Re-enter BENEDICK.

Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, when the Bene. Count Claudio? dance is done! -Answer, clerk!

Claud. Yea, the same.

Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claud. Whither?

Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own busi-
ness, count. What fashion will you wear the garland
of? About your neck, like an usurer's chain? or under
your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it
one way, for the prince hath got your Hero.
Claud. I wish him joy of her.

Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus?

Claud. I pray you, leave me!

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit. Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! Now will he creep into sedges.--But, that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The prince's fool!-Ha! it may be, I go under that title, because I am merry.-Yea; but so; I am apt to do myself wrong: I am not so reputed: it is the base, the bitter disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may !

Re-enter Don PEDRO, HERO, and LEONATO. D. Pedro. Now, signior, where's the count? Did you see him?

Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy, as a lodge in a warren; I told him, and, I think, I told him true, that your grace had got the good will of this young lady; and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped.

D. Pedro. To be whipped! What's his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it.

D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might| have worn himself; and the rod he might have bestow'd on you,who,as I take it, have stolen his bird's

nest.

D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.

Bene.If their singing answer your saying,by my faith, you say honestly.

D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danced with her, told her, she is much wronged by you.

Re-enter CLAUDIO and BEATRICE. D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. Bene. Will your grace command me any service to the world's end?I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes,that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard ; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me?

D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my lady Tongue. [Exit. D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one: marry, once before, he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say, I have lost it. D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down!

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.

D. Pedro. Why, how now, count? wherefore are you
Claud. Not sad, my lord.
sad?
D. Pedro. How then? Sick?
Claud. Neither, my lord.

Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well: but civil, count; civil as an orange,and something of that jealous complexion.

D. Pedro. I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained: name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy!

Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it!

Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue! Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say, how much.---Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and dote upo. the exchange.

Beat. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak, neither!

D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.

Claud. And so she doth, cousin.

Beat. Good lord, for alliance !-Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burned; I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho! for a husband. D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. Beat.I would rather have one of your father's getting. Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady?

Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of a
block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would
have answered her; my very visor began to assume life,
and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had
been myself, that I was the prince's jester; that I was
duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest, with
such impossible conveyance, upon me, that I stood like
a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She
speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath
were as terrible as her terminations, there were no
living near her, she would infect to the north star. I
would not marry her, though she were endowed with
all that Adam had left him before he transgressed: she
would have made Hercules have turned spit; yea, and
have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not
of her; you shall find her the infernal Até in good ap-were born in a merry hour.
parel. I would to God, some scholar would conjure
her; for, certainly, while she is here, a man may live
as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon
purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed,
all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her.

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Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working-days; your grace is too costly to wear every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me; I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter. D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you

Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.Cousins, God give you joy!

Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?

don.

Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle.-By your grace's par[Exit Beatrice. D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady! Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad,but when she sleeps ; and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.

D.Pedro.She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.
Leon. O, by no means; she mocks all her wooers out

of suit.

Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue?

D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing.

Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the count Claudio, alone: tell them, that you know, that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as-in love of your brother's honour, who hath made this match, and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid,-that you have discovered thus.

D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. Leon. O Lord! my lord, if they were but a week mar-They will scarcely believe this without trial offer ried, they would talk themselves mad.

D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?

Claud. To-morrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches, till love have all his rites.

Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind.

D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us ; I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance, as I shall give you direction. Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings.

Claud. And I, my lord.

D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband.

them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her chamber-window, hear me call Margaret Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding for, in the mean time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown.

:

D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me.

D. John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exeunt.

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Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book; bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. I am here already, sir.

D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirmed Bene. I know that;- but I would have thee hence, honesty. I will teach you, how to humour your cousin, and here again. [Exit Boy.]-I do much wonder, that that she shall fall in love with Benedick:-and I, with one man, seeing how much another man is a fool, when your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the shall fall in love with Beatrice. Ifwe can do this, Cu-argument of his own scorn, by falling in love: and such pid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will music with him but the drum and fife; and now had tell you my drift. [Exeunt. he rather hear the tabor and the pipe. I have known, when he would have walked ten mile a-foot, to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to

SCENE II.-Another room in Leonato's house.

Enter Don JOHN and BORACHIO.

D. John. It is so; the count Claudio shall marry the speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man, daughter of Leonato.

Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly, that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

D. John. Show me briefly, how!

Bora. I think, I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waitinggentlewoman to Hero.

D. John. I remember.

Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window. D. John. What life is in that to be the death of this marriage?

Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince, your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one, as Hero. D. John. What proof shall I make of that?

and a soldier; and now is he turn'd orthographer; his
words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many
strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with
these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be
sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but
I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of
me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman
is fair; yet I am well: another is wise; yet I am well:
another virtuous; yet I am well: but till all graces be
in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.
Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none;
virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never
look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not
for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musi-
cian, and her hair shall be of what colour it please
God.-Ha! the prince and monsieur Love! I will hide
me in the arbour.
[Withdraws.

I

Enter Don PEDRO, LEONATO, and CLAUDIO.
D. Pedro, Come, shall we hear this music?
Claud. Yea, my good lord. -How still the evening is,
Ashush'd on purpose to grace harmony!
D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music ended,

We'll fit the kid fox with a penny-worth.

Enter BALTHAZAR, with music.

D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again.
Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.

D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection.
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more!

Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy; yet he wooes;
Yet will he swear, he loves.

D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come:
Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes!

Balth. Note this before my notes,

There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting.
D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets, that he
speaks;

[Music.

Note, notes, forsooth, and noting!
Bene. Now, Divine air! now is his soul ravished!-
Is it not strange, that sheeps' guts should hale souls
out of men's bodies?-Well, a horn for my money,
when all's done.

BALTHAZAR Sings.
I.

Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore;
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blith and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

II.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The frauds of men were ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, etc.

D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song!
Balth. And an ill singer, my lord.
D.Pedro.Ha? no; no, faith; thou singest well enough
for a shift.

Bene. [Aside. An he had been a dog, that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him: and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

D. Pedro. Yea, marry. [To Claudio.] — Dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window.

Balth. The best I can, my lord.

D. Pedro. Do so: farewell! [Exeunt Balthazar and music.] Come hither, Leonato! What was it you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick?

Claud. O, ay!-Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. [Aside to Pedro.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

[Aside. Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit.

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Claud. She did, indeed.

D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.

Leon. I would have sworn, it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.

Bene. [Aside. I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence.

Claud. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up.[Aside. D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?

Leon. No; and swears she never will: that's her torment.

Claud. 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: Shall I, says she, that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him, that I love him?

Leon. This says she now, when she is beginning to write to him: for she'll be up twenty times a night; and there will she sit in her smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper:-my daughter tells us all.

Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. Leon. O!-When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?Claud. That.

Leon. O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: 1 measure him, says she, by my own spirit: for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him,

I should.

Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses: — O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!

Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid, she will do a desperate outrage to herself; it is very true.

D. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.

Claud. To what end? He would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.

D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.

Claud. And she is exceeding wise.

D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in that blood so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.

D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have daff'd all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you, tel! Benedick of it, and hear what he will say.

Leon. Were it good, think yon?

Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die: for she says, she will die, if he love her not; and she will die, ere she makes her love known; and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.

D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

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