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MUCH ADO about NOTHING. 77

SCENE changes to Leonato's House.

Enter Benedick, and Margaret.

PRAY

RAY thee, fweet Miftrefs Margaret, deferve well at my hands, by helping me to the h of Beatrice.

arg. Will you then write me a fonnet in praise of eauty?

e. In fo high a ftyle, Margaret, that no man livall come over it; for, in moft comely truth, thou eft it.

) Marg. To have no Man come over me? why, I always keep above stairs?

e. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth,

ches.

rg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which

out hurt not.

e. A moft manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt nan; and fo, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give he bucklers.

rg. Give us the fwords; we have bucklers of our

e. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in kes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons aids.

rg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, egs. [Exit Margaret. e. And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, itiful I deferve, I mean, in finging; but

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To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep Stairs?] Thus all the printed Copies, but, fure, erro

for all the Jet, that can lie in the Paffage, is deby it. Any Man might come over her, literally speakThe always kept below Stairs. By the Correction I have d to make, Margaret, as I prefume, must mean, What! always keep above Stairs? i. e. Shall 1 for ever continue bermaid?

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in loving, Leander the good fwimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whofe names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verfe; why, they were never fo truly turn'd over and over, as my poor felf, in love; marry, I cannot fhew it in rhime; I have try'd ; I can find out no rhime to lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for fcorn, horn, a hard rhime; for fchool, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms.

Enter Beatrice.

Sweet Beatrice, would't thou come when I call thee? Beat. Yea, Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O, ftay but 'till then.

Beat. Then, is fpoken; fare you well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath paft between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee.

Beat. Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noifome; therefore I will depart unkift.

Bene. Thou haft frighted the word out of its right fenfe, fo forcible is thy wit; but, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I muft fhortly hear from him, or I will fubfcribe him a coward; and, I pray thee, now tell me, for which of my bad parts didit thou firft fall in love with me?

Beat. For them all together; which maintain'd fo politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you firft fuffer love for me?

Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet; I do fuffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

Beat. In fpight of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart, if you fpight it for my fake, I will fpight it for yours; for I will never love that, which my friend hates.

Bene.

Bene. Thou and I are too wife to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confeffion; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself.

Bene. An old, an old inftance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he fhall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question? why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most expedient for the wife, if Don worm (his confcience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to my felf; fo much for praising my felf; who, I my felf will bear witnefs, is praife-worthy; and now tell me, how doth your Coufin?

Beat. Very ill.

Bene. And how do you?

Beat. Very ill too.

Bene, Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in hafte.

Enter Urfula.

Urfu. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falfely accus'd; the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone will you come prefently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior?

Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and te bury'd in thy heart; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to a CHURCH.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers.

Claud.

Is

S this the monument of Leonato ?
Atten. It is, my lord.

D 4

EPI

EPITAPH.

Done to death by flanderous tongues
Was the Hero, that here lyes:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life, that dy'd with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praifing her when I am dumb.

Claud. Now mufick found, and fing your folemn

hymn.

SONG.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Thofe that flew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with fongs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, afft our moan;
Help us to figh and groan

Heavily, heavily:

Graves, yawn and yield your dead,

'Till death be uttered,

Heavily, heavily.

Claud. Now unto thy bones good night!

Yearly will I do this Right.

Pedro. Good morrow, mafters, put your torches out; The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day,

Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about

Dapples the drowfie eaft with spots of grey :

Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare

you well.

Claud. Good morrow, mafters; each his feveral

way.

Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud.

Claud. And Hymen now with luckier iffue fpeed's, (z1) Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Urfula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.

Friar. D1

ID I not tell you, she was innocent?
Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who
accus'd her,

Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in fome fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears,
In the true courfe of all the question.

Ant. Well; I am glad, that all things fort fo well.
Bene. And fo am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, Daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by your felves,

And when I fend for you, come hither mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To vifit me; you know your office, brother,
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.

[Exeunt Ladies.

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.
Bene. Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think.
Friar. To do what, Signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior,
Your neice regards me with an eye of favour.

(21) And Hymen now with luckier Issue speeds,

Than this, fer whom we render'd up this Woe.] Claudio could not know, without being a Prophet, that this new-propos'd Match fhould have any luckier Event than That design'd with Hero. Certainly, therefore, this should be a Wish in Claudio; and, to this End, the Poet might have wrote, Speed's ; i, e, speed us; and so it becomes a Prayer to Hymen.

D 5

Dr. Thirlby.

Leon.

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