Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a hufband, if thou be fo fhrewd of thy tongue.

Ant. In faith, fhe's too curft.

Beat. Too curft is more than curft, and I fhall leffen God's fending that way; for it is faid, God fends a curft cow fhort horns, but to a cow too curft he fends none.

Leon. So by being too curft, God will fend you no horns.

Beat. Juft, if he fend me no hufband, for the which bleffing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening: Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lye in woollen.

Leon. You may light upon a husband that hath no beard. Beat. What fhould I do with him? drefs him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? he that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man ; and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him therefore I will even take fix pence in earnest of the bearherd, and lead his apes to hell.

Leon. Well then, go you into hell?

Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and fay, get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heav'n, here's no place for you maids: fo deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns; he fhews me where the batchelors fit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.:

Ant. Well, niece, I trust you will be rul'd by your father. [To Hero. Beat. Yes, 'faith, it is my coufin's duty to make curtfie, and fay, as it please you; but yet for all that, coufin, let him be a handfome fellow, or else make another curtfie, and fay, father, as it pleases me.

Leon. Well, neice, I hope to fee you one day fitted with a husband.

Beat. Not 'till God make men of fome other metal than .earth; would it not grieve a woman to be over-mafter'd with a piece of valiant duft? to make account of her life to a clod of wayward marle? no, uncle, I'll none; Adam's

fons

fons are my brethren, and truly I hold it a fin to match in my kindred.

Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you; if the Prince do follicit you in that kind, you know your answer.

Beat. The fault will be in the mufick, coufin, if you be not woo'd in good time; if the Prince be too importunate, tell him there is measure in every thing, and fo dance out the Anfwer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace; the firft fuit is hot and hafty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantaftical; the wedding mannerly-modeft, as a measure, full of ftate and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace fafter and fafter, 'till he finks into his grave.

Leon. Coufin, you apprehend paffing shrewdly.

Beat. I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by day-light.

Leon. The revellers are entring, brother; make good

room.

SCENE II. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in Masquerade.

Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend? Hero, So you walk foftly, and look fweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk

away.

Pedro. With me in your company?

Hero. I may fay fo when I please.

Pedro. And when pleafe you to fay fo?

Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend the lute fhould be like the cafe.

Pedro. My vifor is Philemon's roof, within the house is

Jove.

Hero. Why then your vifor fhould be thatch'd,
Pedro, Speak low, if you speak love. *

[Drawing ber afide to whisper.

Palth. Well, I would you did like me.
Marg. So would not

many ill qualities.

for your own fake, for I have

This feems to be a line quoted from a fang or fome verfes commonly known at that time.

VOL. II.

N

Bakb.

Balth. Which is one?

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! answer, clerk.

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

Urf. I know you well enough, you are Signior Antonio.
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 you̟ 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 itfelf? 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, belieye 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 impoffible flanders: none but libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy; for he both pleafes 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. Do, do, he'll but break a comparifon or two on

me,

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 muft follow the leaders.

Bene. In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Mufick for the Dance. Joba. 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 vifor remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing. John. Are not you Signior Benedict?

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, difluade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honeft man in it.

Claud. How know you he loves her?

John. I heard him fwear his affection.

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

Jobn. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exe. John and Bora.
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, ufe your own tongues!
Let every eye negotiate for it felf,

And truft no agent; beauty is a witch,

Against whofe charms faith melteth into blood.

This is an accident of hourly proof,

Which I miftrufted not. Farewel then, Hero!
Enter Benedick.

Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own bufinefs,

N 2

Count.

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 ftole 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 my felf wrong: I am not fo reputed. It is the base (though bitter) difpofition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her perfon, and fo gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'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, told him true) that your Grace had got the will of this young lady, and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forfaken, or to bind him a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.

Pedro. To be whipt! what's his fault?

Bene. The flat tranfgreffion of a school-boy, who being overjoy'd with finding a bird's neft, fhews it his companion, and he steals it.

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

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 beftowed on you, who (as I take it) have ftol'n his bird's neft.