All matter else feems weak: fhe cannot love,

Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is fo felf-endeared.

Urf. Sure, I think fo;

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 she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd,
She'd fwear the gentleman fhould be her sister;
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;

If speaking, 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.

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 myself, prefs me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire,
Confume away in fighs, wafte inwardly :
It were a bitter death to die with mocks;
Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling.

Urf. Yet tell her of it; hear what fhe will fay.
Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his paffion.
And, truly, I'll devife fome honeft flanders
To stain my coufin with; one doth not know
How much an ill word may empoifon liking.
Urf. O, do not do your coufin fuch a wrong.
She cannot be fo much without true judgment,

(Having

(Having so sweet 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: fignior 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 fhow thee some attires, and have thy counsel

Which is the best to furnifh me to-morrow.

Urf. She's ta’en, 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.

Beatrice advances.

Beat. What fire is in my ears? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so 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, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band.
For others fay, thou doft deserve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly.

[Exeunt.

[Exit.

SCENE

Pedro.

SCENE II.

Leonato's house.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.

I

Do but stay 'till your marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon.

Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll youchfafe me. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a foil in the new glofs of your marriage, as to fhow 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 fpeaks.

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 first, 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. 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 strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow; unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.

Claud.

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

Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's?

Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been feen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuff'd tennis-balls. Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did by the loss of a beard.

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

Claud. That's as much as to fay, the sweet youth's in love. Pedro. The greatest 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 say 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 despite of all, dies for him.

Pedro. She fhall be bury'd with her heels upwards.*

Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old fignior, walk afide with me; I have study'd eight or nine wise words to speak to you which these hobby-horses must not hear.

[Exeunt Bene. and Leon.

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.

They fhould be bury'd with their heels upwards was a proverbial faying heretofore in ufe, and apply'd to thofe zuho had met with any piece of fortune very furprizing and very rare.

VOL. I.

O oo

SCENE

SCENE III.

Enter Don John.

John. My lord and brother, god fave you.

Pedro. Good den, brother.

John. If your leifure ferv'd, I would fpeak with you.
Pedro. In private ?

John. If it pleafe you: yet count Claudio may hear; for what I would fpeak 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. I know not that, when he knows what I know. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, discover it. John. You may think, I love you not; let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifeft; for my brother, I think, he holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your enfuing marriage: furely, fuit ill spent, and labour ill beftow'd.

Pedro. Why, what's the matter?

John. I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shorten'd, (for she hath been too long a talking of) the lady is disloyal. Claud. Who? Hero?

John. Even fhe, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. Claud. Difloyal?

John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could fay, fhe were worfe; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not 'till further warrant; go but with me tonight, you shall see her chamber-window enter'd; even the night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. Claud. May this be so?

Pedro. I will not think it.

John. If you dare not trust that you fee, confess not that you

know: