when she sleeps; and not ever sad then; for Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of I have heard my daughter say, she hath often the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself chamber-window.

with laughing.

[a husband.

D. John. What life is in that, to be the D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of death of this marriage? Leon. O, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out of suit.

D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad! D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?

Bora. The poison of that lies in you to [Benedick. 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? Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue?

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

D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour anything.

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 Bora. Go, then; find me a meet hour to long a breathing: but, I warrant thee, Claudio, draw Don Pedro and the count Claudio alone: the time shall not go dully by us. I will, in tell them that you know that Hero loves me; the interim, undertake one of Hercules labours; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and which is, to bring signior Benedick and the Claudio, as,--in love of your brother's honour, lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the who hath made this match; and his friend's one with the other. I would fain have it a reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if the semblance of a maid,—that you have disyou 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.

covered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial offer 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, Claudio; 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 D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhope- absent; and there shall appear such seeming fullest husband that I know. Thus far can I truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall praise him; he is of a noble strain, of ap-be called assurance, and all the preparation proved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will overthrown. teach you how to humour your cousin, that D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it she shall fall in love with Benedick ;—and I, can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the with your two helps, will so practise on Bene- working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. dick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Bea-and my cunning shall not shame me. trice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer D. John. I will presently go learn their day an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are of marriage. [Exeunt. the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Another Room in Leonato's
House. Enter Don John and Borachio.

D. John. It is so; the count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.

Bor. 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 vertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. D. John. Show me briefly how.

SCENE III.-Leonato's Garden.
Enter Benedick and a Boy.
Bene. Boy!
Boy. Signior?
Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book;
bring it hither to me in the orchard.

Boy. I am here already, sir.

Bene. I know that: but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] I do much wonder, that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the co-argument of his own scorn by falling in love : and such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known, when he would have walked ten mile afoot to see a good armour;, and now will he lie ten

Bora. I think I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero. D. John. I remember.

nights awake, carving the fashion of a new
doubtlet. He was wont to speak plain, and
to the purpose, like an honest man, and a
soldier; and now is he turned orthographer;
his words are a very fantastical banquet,-just
so many strange dishes. May I be so con-
verted, 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 I for an angel; of good
discourse, an excellent musician, 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.
Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio,
followed by Balthazar and Musicians.
D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music?
Claud. Yea, my good lord.-How still the
evening is,

As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!
D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath
hid himself?
[ended,
Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music
We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.
D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that
song again.
[voice
Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a
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 woos;
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. [that he speaks ; D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets Notes, notes, forsooth, and noting! [Music. Bene. Now, divine air! now is his soul ravish'd!-Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies ?-Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.

Balthazar sings.

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 blithe and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not 50,
&c.

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. [To Claudio.] Yea, marry.— Dost thou hear, Balthazar? pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamberwindow. Balth. The best I can, my lord.

D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exeunt Balthazar and Musicians.] 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 :— -[Aside to Pedro.] Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. [Aloud.] 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. [Aside.] Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

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. Claud. 'Faith, like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit ! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it.

D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she? [will bite. Claud. [Aside.] Bait the hook well; this fish Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit you,-[To Claudio.] You heard my daughter tell you how. 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 [hold it up. Claud. [Aside.] He hath ta'en the infection:

reverence.

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 half-pence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: "I 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 50: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometimes afeard 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 dis

cover it.

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.

Claud. He is a very proper man.

D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness. [wise. Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very D. Pedro. He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love?

Claud. Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel.

Leon. Nay, that's impossible: she may wear her heart out first.

D. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.

Claud. [Aside.] If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. D. Pedro. [Aside.] Let there be the same Claud. To what end? he would but make net spread for her; and that must your daugha sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.ter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport 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 everything, but in loving Benedick.

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

will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.

[Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato. Bene. [Advanc. from the arbour.] This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady it seems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this be requited. I hear how I am censured: they dotage on me: I would have daffed all other say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive respects, and made her half myself. I pray the love come from her they say too, that you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will she will rather die than give any sign of afsay. fection. I did never think to marry.-I must Leon. Were it good, think you? not seem proud.-Happy are, they that hear Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die; for their detractions, and can put them to mendshe says she will die if he love her not; and ing. They say the lady is fair,-'tis a truth, I she will die, ere she make her love known; can bear them witness; and virtuous,-'tis so, and she will die, if he woo her, rather than I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving she will bate one breath of her accustomed me by my troth, it is no addition to her wit; nor no great argument of her folly, -for I will

crossness.

be horribly in love with her. I may chance My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
have some odd quirks and remnants of wit Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter
broken on me, because I have railed so long Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
against marriage: but doth not the appetite That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin ;
alter? A man loves the meat in his youth,
Enter Beatrice, behind.
that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips
and sentences and these paper bullets of the
brain, awe a man from the career of his
humour? No; the world must be peopled.
When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not
think I should live till I were married.-Here
comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair
lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
Enter Beatrice.

For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the

fish

Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait :
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear
lose nothing

Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. [pains. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.— Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, [They advance to the bower. than you take pains to thank me: if it had No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; been painful, I would not have come. I know her spirits are as coy and wild Bene. You take pleasure, then, in the mes-As haggards of the rock. sage?

Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior! fare you well.

[Exit. Bene. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner,"-there's a double meaning in that. "I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me," -that's as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you are as easy as thanks.--If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go get her picture.

ACT III.

[Exit.

There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her say that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter ;-like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their
pride
[she hide her,
Against that power that bred it-there will
To listen our propose. This is thy office;

Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you,
presently.
[Exit.
Hero. Now, Ursula, 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 praise him more than ever man did merit :

Urs.

But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
Hero. So says the prince, and my new-
trothed lord.
[madam?
Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it,
Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her
of it;

But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gen-
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, [tleman
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? [serve
Hero. O God of love! I know he doth de-
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her

All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endear'd.
Urs.

saw man,

Sure, I think so ;
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet
[featur'd,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely
But she would spell him backward: if fair-
fac'd,
[her sister;
She would swear the gentleman should be
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut;
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out;
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not com-
mendable.
[fashions.
Hero. No; not to be so odd, and from all

As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable:
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She would mock me into air: O, she would
laugh me

Out of myself, press me to death with wit,
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly :
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

[say.

Urs. Yet tell her of it: hear what she will
Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion.
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with: one doth not know,
How much an ill word may empoison liking.
Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment,
(Having so swift and excellent a wit
As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio. [madam,
Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me,
Speaking my fancy signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.
Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good
[it.
Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had
When are you married, madam?

name.

[sel,

head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth :
he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring,
and the little hangman dare not shoot at him;
he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his
tongue is the clapper; for what his heart
thinks, his tongue speaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leon. So say I methinks you are sadder.
Claud. I hope he be in love.

D. Pedro. Hang him, truant! there's no
true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched
with love. If he be sad, he wants money.
Bene. I have the tooth-ache.
D. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it !
Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it
afterwards.

D. Pedro. What! sigh for the tooth-ache? Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm? Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it.

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love.

D. 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 today, a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once; as, a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet. 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. If he be not in love with some

bode?

Hero. Why, every day;-to-morrow. Come, go in : I'll show thee some attires; and have thy coun-woman, there is no believing old signs: he Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. brushes his hat o' mornings; what should that Urs. She's lim'd, I warrant you: we have barber's? caught her, madam. [haps: D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.seen with him; and the old ornament of his [Exeunt Hero and Ursula. cheek, hath already stuffed tennis balls. Beat. [Advancing.] What fire is in mine Leon. Indeed he looks younger than he did, ears? Can this be true? [much? by the loss of a beard. Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so 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.

[Exit.

SCENE II-A Room in Leonato's House.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and

Leonato.

D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon.

!

Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.

D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to

D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet : can you smell hiin out by that?

Claud. That's as much as to say the sweet youth's in love. [melancholy.

D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?

D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops.

D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude, he is in love. Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. D. 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. [upwards.

D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothwear it. I will only be bold with Benedick ache.-Old signior, walk aside with me: I for his company; for, from the crown of his have studied eight or nine wise words to speak