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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 sand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
l'th' state of honourable marriage;
In which, good Friar, I shall defire your help.

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

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

Leon. Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio,
We here attend you; are you yet determind
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 cloudiness ?

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

Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow ;
And got a calf, in that same noble feat,
Much like to you ; for you have just his bleat.
Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and

Ursula, mask'd.
Claud. For this I owe you ; here come other reck.

nings.
Which is the lady I must seize upon ?
Auto. This fame is the, and I do give you her.

Claude

0

not, 'till

I am your

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

face. Leon. No, that you

shall

you

take her hand Before this Friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, husband if

you

like of me. Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife.

[Unmasking. 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 slander liv’d.

Friar. All this amazement can I qualifie.
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 chappel let us presently,

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 Coufin, Margaret and Ursula, Have been deceiv'd ; 'for they did swear, you

did.

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(22) Claud. Another Hero!
Hero

Nothing certainer:
One Hero dy'd; but I do live,

And surely as I live I am a Maid.) Besides that the laft Line but One wants a whole Foot in Measure, it is as defective in the Meaning: For how are the words made our ? One Hero dy'd, and yet that Hero lives, but how is She then another Hero? The Supplement, which I have restor'd froin the oid Quarto, solves all the Difficulty, and makes the last Line reasonable.

Bened

Bene. They swore, you were almost fick for me.
Beat. 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, Cousin, I am sure, you love the gentle-

man.

Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her ;
For here's a paper written in his hand,
A ha ting 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 affe&tion unto Benedick.

Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts ; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

(23) Beat. I would yet deny you ; but, by this good day, I 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 stop your mouth.

[Kiffing her. 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: dost thou

(23) I would not deny you, but by this good day I gicld upon great persuafion, &c.) Is not this Orange Mock-reasoning in Beatrice? She would not deny him, but that she yields upon great Persuasion.

By changing the Negative, I make no doubr but I have retriev'd the Poet's Humour.

(24) Leon. Peace, I wilt stop your Mauth.] What can Leonato mean by This? “ Nay, pray, peace, Neice; don't keep up " this Obtinacy of Professions, for I hare Proofs to stop your so Mouth.” The ingenious Dr. Thirlby agreed with me, that this ought to be given to Benedick, who, upon saying it, kisses Beatrice: and this being done before the whole Company, how natural is the Reply which the Prince makes upon it ?

How dost thou, Benedick: the married Man, Besides, this Mode of Speech, preparatory to a Salute, is familias to our Poct in common with other Stage-Writers.

think, I care for a satire, or an epigram ? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him ; in brief, fince I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can fay against it ; and therefore never fout 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 my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my coufin.

Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd 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, musick, Prince, thou art fad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend" than one tipt with horn.

Enter Messenger. Mell. My Lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Mefina.

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

[Dance. [Exeunt omnem

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