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Marg. I fay my prayers aloud.

Balth. I love you the better; the hearers may cry Amen.

Marg. God match me with a good dancer?
Balth Amen.

Marg. And God keep him out of my fight when the dance is done! Anfwer, clerk.

Balth. No more words, the clerk is anfwer'd.

Urf. I know you well enough; you are Signior An

tonio.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urf. I know you by the wagling of your head.
Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

Urf. You could never do him fo ill-well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urf Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself! Go to, mum, you are he; graces will appear, and there's an

end.

Beat. Will you not tell me, who told you fo?
Bene. No, you fhall pardon me.

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?

Bene. Not now.

Beat. That I was difdainful, and that I had my good wit out of The hundred merry tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that faid fo.

Bene. What's he?

Beat. I am fure you know him well enough.

Bene. Not I, believe me.

Beat. Did he never make you laugh?

Bene. I pray you, what is he?

Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jefter; a very dull fool, only his gift is in devifing impaffable flanders. None but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him. I am fure he is in the fleet: I would he had boarded me.

Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you fay.

Beat.

Beat. Do, do; he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, ftrikes him into melancholy and then there's a partridge-wing fav'd, for the fool will eat no fupper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Mufic within. Bene. In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning.

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[Exeunt.

Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio.

John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it; the ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. Bora. And that is Claudio; I know him by his bearing

John. Are you not Signior Benedick?

Claud You know me well, I am he.

John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero: I pray you, diffuade him from her, fhe is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it

Claud. How know ye he loves her ?

John. I heard him fwear his affection.

Bora. So did I too, and he fwore he would marry her to-night.

John Come, let us to the banquet.

[Exeunt John and Bor, Claud. Thus anfwer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. "Tis certain fo, the Prince wooes for himself. Friendship is conftant in all other things,

Save in the office and affairs of love;

Therefore all hearts in love use your own tongues!

Let every eye negotiate for itself,

And truft no agent; beauty is a witch,

Againft whofe charms faith melteth into blood.

This is an accident of hourly proof,

Which I miftrusted not.

Farewel then, Hero!

Enter Benedick,

Bene, Count Claudio?

I

Claud.

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 fcarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.

Claud. I wish him joy of her.

Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest 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 post.

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 fteals it.

Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a tranfgreffion? The tranfgreffion is in the ftealer.

VOL. II.

Bene.

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 beftow'd on you, who (as I take it) have ftol'n his bird's nest Pedro I will but teach them to fing, and restore them to the owner.

Bene. If their finging answer your faying, by my faith, you fay honeftly.

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Pedro The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman that dance'd with her told her, the is much wrong'd by you.

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Bene. " O, fhe mifus'd me paft 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 jeft 'દ upon jeft, with fuch impaffable conveyance upon me, "that I ftood like a man at a mark, with a whole army fhooting at me: fhe fpeaks poniards, and every "word ftabs. If her breath were as terrible as her

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terminations, there were no living near her; she "would infect to the north-ftar." I would not mar ry her, though fhe 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 fcholar 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.

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Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leónato, and Hero.

Pedro Look, here fhe comes.

Bene. Will your Grace command me any fervice to the world's end? I will go on the flightest 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 Prefter 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.

Pedro. How then? fick?
Claud. Neither, 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,

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