Claud. Yea, the fame. Bene. Come, will you go with me? Claud. Whither? Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own bufinefs, Count What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an ufurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. Claud. I wish him joy of her. Bene. Why, that's fpoken like an honeft drover; fo they fell bullocks: but did you think the Prince would have ferved you thus? Claud. I pray you leave me. Bene. Ho! now you ftrike like the blind man ; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the poft. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit. Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowle! now will he creep into fedges. But, that my Lady Beatrice fhould know me, and not know me! The Prince's fool! ha? it may be I go under that title, because I am merry; yea, but fo I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not fo reputed. It is the base (tho' bitter) difpofition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her perfon, and fo gives me out; well, I'll be revenge'd as I may. SCENE IV. Enter Don Pedro. Pedro Now, Signior, where's the Count? did you fee him? Bene. Troth, my Lord, I have play'd the part of Lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him, (and I think I told him true), that your Grace had got the will of this young lady; and I offer'd him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forfaken; or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt. Pedro. To be whipt! what's his fault? Bene. The flat tranfgreffion of a fchool-boy; who, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's neft, fhews it his companion, and he steals it. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a tranfgreffion? The tranfgreffion is in the stealer. VOL. II. Bene. Yet it had not been amifs the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestow'd on you, who (as I take it) have ftol'n his bird's neft. Pedro I will but teach them to fing, and restore them to the owner. Bene. If their finging anfwer your faying, by my faith, you fay honeftly Pedro The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman that dance'd with her told her, fhe is much wrong'd by you. ઃઃ t 66 Bene. "O, fhe mifus'd me past the indurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would "have anfwer'd her; my very vifor began to affume "life, and fcold with her; fhe told me, not thinking "I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jefter, and that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jeft, with fuch impaffable conveyance upon me, "that I ftood like a man at a mark, with a whole army hooting at me: fhe fpeaks poniards, and every "word ftabs. If her breath were as terrible as her "terminations, there were no living near her; fhe "would infect to the north-ftar." I would not marry her, though the were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he tranfgreffed: fhe would have made Hercules have turn'd fpit; yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you fhall find her the infernal Até in good apparel. I would to God fome scholar would conjure her; for, certainly, while fhe is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a fanctuary, and people fin upon purpose, because they would go thither; fo indeed all difquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her. SCENE V. Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato, and Hero. Pedro Look, here fhe comes. Bene Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the flighteft errand now to the Antipodes that you can devife to fend me on: I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the fartheft inch of of Afia; bring you the length of Prefler John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any ambaffage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me? Pedro. None, but to defire your good company. Bene. O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. I cannot endure this Lady Tongue. Pedro. Come, Lady, come; you have loft the heart of Signior Benedick Beat. Indeed, my Lord, he lent it me a while, and I gave him ufe for it, a double heart for a fingle one; marry, once before he won it of me with falfe dice, therefore your Grace may well fay I have loft it. Pedro. You have put him down, Lady, you have put him down. Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, left I fhould prove the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you fent me to feek. Pedro. Why, how now, Count, wherefore are you fad? Claud. Not fad, my Lord. Beat. The Count is neither fad, nor fick, nor merry, nor well; but civil, Count, civil as an orange, and fomething of that jealous complexion. Pedro. I' faith, Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be fworn, if he be fo, his conceit is falfe. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good-will obtained; name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match, and all grace fay Amen to it. Beat. Speak, Count, 'tis your cue. Claud. Silence is the perfecteft herald of joy; I were but little happy if I could fay how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am your's; I give away myfelf for you, and doat upon the exchange. C 2 Beat, 1 Beat. Speak, coufin, or (if you cannot) ftop his mouth with a kifs, and let him not fpeak neither. Pedro. In faith, Lady, you have a merry heart. Beat Yea, my Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy fide of care; my coufin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart. Claud. And fo fhe doth, coufin. Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am fun-burn'd; I may fit in a corner, and cry Heigh ho! for a husband. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting. Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. Pedro. Will you have me, Lady? Beat. No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working days; your Grace is too coftly to wear every day but I befeech your Grace pardon me, : I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter. Pedro. Your filence moft offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. Beat. No, fure, my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a ftar danced, and under that I was born. Coufins, God give you joy. f Leon. Niece, will you look to thofe things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle: by your Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-fpirited lady. Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my Lord; fhe is never fad but when she fleeps; and not ever fad then; for I have heard my daughter fay, fhe hath often dream'd of unhappinefs, and wak'd herself with laughing. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. Leon. O, by no means, the mocks all her wooers out of fuit. 3 Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. Leon: Leon. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? Claud. To-morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches, till love have all his rites. Leon. Not till Monday, my dear fon, which is hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief too to have all things anfwer my mind. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at fo long a breathing; but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time fhall not go dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules's labours; which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minister fuch affiftance as I fhall give you direction. Leon. My Lord, I am for you, though it coft me ten nights watchings. Claud And I my Lord. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero I will do any modeft office, my Lord, to help my cousin to a good husband Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopfulleft husband that I know. Thus far I can praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approv'd valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour your coufin, that she fhall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will fo practife on Benedick, that in defpight of his quick wit, and his queafy ftomach, he fhall fall in love with Beatrice If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory thall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. Changes to another apartment in Leonato's houfe. Enter Don John and Borachio. John. It is fo, the Count Claudio fhall marry the daughter of Leonato Bora. Yea, my Lord, but I can cross it. John. |