If fpeaking, 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 fimplene's and merit purchaseth.

Urfu. Sure, fure, fuch carping is not commendable. Hero. No; for to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,

But who dare tell her fo? if I fhould speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, fhe would laugh me
Out of myself, prefs me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Confume away in fighs, wafte inwardly;
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling.
Urfu. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
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 ftain my Coufin with; one doth not know,
How much an ill-word may impoifon liking.

Urfu, O, do not do your Coufin fuch a wrong,
She cannot be fo much without true judgment,
(Having so swift and excellent a wit,

quality of the wearer; and were commonly in the shape of little images; or at leaft had a head cut at the extremity, as is feen at the end of the fart of old-fashion'd fpoons. And as a tall man is before compar'd to a Launce ill-beaded; fo, by the fame figure, a little man is very aptly liken'd to an Aglet ill-cut. Mr. Warburton. I'll fubjoin a few paffages in confirmation of my friend's beautiful conjecture.

Taming of the Shrew.

Why, give him Gold enough, and marry him to a Puppet, er at Aglet-baby, &c.

The Two Noble Kinfmen of Beaumont and Fletcher ;

I'm very cold; and all the ftars are out too,

The little ftars, and all; that look like Aglets,

And Sir John Harrington, in his tranflation of Aricfe's Orlande

Fariofo. Book V. St. 47.

The gown I ware was white, and richly fet

With Aglets, pearl, and lace of gold well garnish'd:
My ftately trefies cover'd with a net

Of beaten gold, most pure and brightly varnish'd, &...

As

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.
Urfu. I pray you, be not angry
Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick,

with me,

Madam.

For fhape, for bearing, argument and valeur,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urfu. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.
When are you marry'd, Madam ?

Hero. Why, every day; to-morrow; come, go i, I'll fhew thee fume attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Urfu. She's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught her, Madam.

ero. If it prove fo, then loving goes by haps;

Some Cupids kill with arrows, fome with traps. [Exeunto
Beatrice, advancing.

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 be the back of fuch.
And Benedick, love on, will requite thee;
Taming my wi heart thy loving hand;
If thou doft love, my indefs fhall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band.
For others fay, thou doft deferve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly.

SCENE, Leonato's House.

[Exit

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.

Pedro. I Do but ftay 'till your marriage be confummate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchfafe me.

Pedro. Nay, That would be as great a foil in the new glefs of your marriage, as to fhew a child his new coat

and..

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 fhoot 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. Gailants, 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 muft 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 master 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 ftrange difguifes, as to be a Dutch man to-day, a French man to-morrow; or in the fhape of two countries at once, a German from the wafte downward, all flops, 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 to appear he is.

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

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

⚫ Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already ftuft tennis-balls.

Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did by the lofs of a beard.

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

Claud

Claud. That's as much as to fay, the fweet 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 fay of him.

Claud. Nay, but his jefting fpirit, which is now crept into a lute-ftring and now governed by flops

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 defpight of all, dies for him.

Pedro. She fhall be bury'd with her heels upwards. (14) Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old Signior, walk afide with me, I have ftudy'd eight or nine wife words to speak to you which thefe hobbyhorses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.

Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. Cland. '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.

(14) She fhall be buried with her Face upwards.] Thus the whole fet of editions: But what is there any ways particular in this? Are not all men and women buried fo? Sure the poet means, in oppofition to the general rule, and by way of diftinction, with her beels upwards, or face downwards. I have chofe the first reading, because I find it the expreffion in vogue in our author's time.

So Beaumont and Fletcher in their Wild-Goofe Chafe.

Whilft I have meat and drink, love cannot starve me;
For if I die i'th' firft fit, I'm unhappy;

And worthy to be buried with my heels upwards.

And in The Woman's Prize; or, The Tamer tam'd:
Some few,

For thefe are rareft, they are said to kill

With kindness and fair ufage; but what they are,
My Catalogue difcovers not; only 'tis thought,
They're buried in old walls with their beils uproard.

And again, in The Coxcomb;

Judge me, I do but jeft with thee: what, an fhe were inverted with ber beels upward, like a traytor's coat?

Enter

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 speak of, concerns him.

Pedro. What's the matter?

John. Means your lordship to be marry'd to-morrow.

[To Claudio.

Pedro. You know, he does.
John. I know not that, when he knows what I know.
Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you dif-

cover 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 dearnefs of heart hath holp to effect your enfuing marriage; furely, Suit ill fpent, and Labour ill

beftow'd.

Pedro. Why, what's the matter?

John. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances fhorten'd, (for fhe hath been too long a talking of) the Lady is difloyal.

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 wickednels; I could fay, the were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it; wonder not 'till further warrant; go but with me to-night, you fhall fee her chamber-window enter'd, ev'n 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 fo?

Pedro. I will not think it.

John. If you dare not truft that you fee, confefs not that you know; if you will follow me, I will fhew you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly.

Claud