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Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.

Leon. The fight 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
ľ' h' state of honourable marriage;
In which, good Friar, I shall defire your help.

Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friür. And my help.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants. Pedro. Good-morrow to this fair assembly.

Lion. 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 Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready.

Exit Antonio. Pedro. Good-morrow, Benedick; why, what's the matter, That you

have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudinefs ?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull:
Tuih, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee ;
As once Europa did at lufty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bert. Bull jsve, Si had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow;
And got a calf, in that same noble feai,
Much like to you; for you have just his bleat.

Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and

Ursula, mas’d. Claud. For this I owe you; here come other reck’nings. Wbich is the lady I mutt seize upon ? dit. This same is the, and I do give you ber.

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your face.

Claud. Why, then she's mine; Sweet, let me see

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 livd, I was your other wife

[Unmaking And when you lov'd, you were my other husband.

Claud. Another Hero? (22)

Hero. Nothing certainer.
One Hero dy'd defild, but I do live;
And, surely, as I live, I am a maid.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead !
Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her lander liv'd.

Friar. All this amazement can I qualify.
When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us prefently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice ?
Beat. I answer to that name; what is your will ?
Bene. Do not you love me?
Beat. Why, no, no more than reason.

Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and
Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did.

Beat. Do not you love me?
Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason.
Beat. Why, then my Cousin, Margaret and Ursula,
Have been deceiv'd; for they did swear, you did.

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(22) Claud. Another Hero!
Hero.

-Notting certainer:
One He:o dy'd; but I do live,

And surely as I live I am a Maid.] Besides that the last Line but One wants a whole Foot in Measure, it is as detective in the Meaning: For how are the Words mzie out? One Hiro dy'd, and yet that Hero lives, but how is She then another Hiro? The Supplement, which I have restor' from ihe old Quarto, fulves all the Difficulty, and makes the latt Line reafunable.

Bene,

Bere. They fwore, you' were almost fick for me.
Btet. They swore, you were well-nigh dead for me.
Bene. "Tis no matter; then you do not love me?
Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence.
Leon. Come, Confin, I am fure, you love the gentleman.

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, stolen 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 T, take thee for pity.

123) Beat. I would yet deny you; but, by this good day, 1 yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life; for as I was told, you were in a consumption. (24) Bene. Peace, I will itop your mouth.

[Killing hr. 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: doft thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram ? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he hall wear nothing hand

(2.3) I would not deny you, but by this good day ! yield upon great persuasion, &c.] is not this frange Mock-rearoning in Becom frice? She would sit deny him, but that the yields upon great Perfuafion. By changing the Negative, I make no doubt but I have retriev'd the Poet's Humour.

(24) Leon. Peace, I will pop your Miilb.) What can Lesaate mean by This? "

Nay, pray, peace, Niece; don't keep up this " Obainacy of Profefions, for I have Proufs to stop your Mouth.” The ingenious Dr. Thirlby agreed with me, that this ought to be given to Benedick, who, opon saying it, kisles Beatrice: and this being done before the whole Company, how natural is the Reply which the Prince makes upon it?

How do tbou, Benedick, ibe married Man? Besides, this Mode of Speech, preparatory to a Salute, is familias to our peec is common with orber Stage-Writers.

fome

fome about him; in brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can fay 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 iny kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin.

Claud. I had well, hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgellid thee out of thy fingle 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 marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play, mufick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife ; there is no ftaff more reverend than one tipt with hora.

Enter Mefienger.

Mej. My Lord, your brother Fohn is ta’en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Meljina.

Bene. Think not on him 'till to-morrow : I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers.

[Dance, [Exeunt omnes.

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