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for no man's leifure; fleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour.

Conr. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, till you may do it without controlement. You have of late ftood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impoffible you fhould take root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself; it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest.

John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rofe in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be difdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any in this (though I cannot be faid to be a flattering honeft man) it must not be deny'd but I am -a plain-dealing villain; I am trusted with a muzzel, and infranchised with a clog, therefore I have decreed not to fing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am, and feek not to alter me.

Conr. Can you make no use of your difcontent? John. I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? What news, Borachio?

Enter Borachio.

Bora. I came yonder from a great fupper; the Prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage.

John. Will it ferve for any model to build mifchief on? what is he for a fool, that betrothes himself to unquietnefs?

Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand.

John. Who, the most exquifite Claudio?

Bora. Even he.

John. A proper Squire! and who, and who? which way looks he?

Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato.

John. A very forward March chick! How come you to this?

Bora.

Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was fmoking a mufty room, comes me the Prince and Clau dio hand in hand in fad conference. I whipt behind the arras, and there heard it agreed upon, that the Prince fhould woo Hero for himfelf; and having obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio.

John. Come, come, let us thither; this may prove food to my displeasure that young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow. If I can crofs him any way, I blefs myself every way; you are both fure, and will affift me.

Conr. To the death, my Lord.

John. Let us to the great fupper; their cheer is the greater that I am fubdu'd; would the cook were of my mind!Shall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your Lordship.

ACT

II.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

I.

A hall in Leonato's house.

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Urfula.

Leon.AS not Count John here at fupper?
Ant, I faw him not.

・WAS

Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can fee him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after.

Hero. He is of a very melancholy difpofition. Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made juft in the mid-way between him and Benedick: the one is too like an image, and fays nothing; and the other too like my Lady's eldest fon, evermore tatling.

Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face

Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purfe, fuch a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good-will.

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 curs'd.

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

Leon. So, by being too curs'd, God will fend you no horns.

Beat. Juft if he send me no husband; 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 lie in woollen.

Leon. You may light upon a husband that hath no beard.

Beat. What should 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 lefs than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take fixpence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell *.

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 curtfy, and fay, Father, as it pleases you; but yet for all that, coufin, let him be a handfome fellow, or else make another curtfy, and fay, Father, as it pleafes me. Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see 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 overmaster'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 are my brethren, and, truly, I hold it a fin to match in my kindred.

* -into hell.

Leon. Well then, go you into hell.

Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet ma, 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. So deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns; he fhews me where the bachelors fit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.

Ant. Well, niece, &c.
VOL. II.

B

Leon.

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

If the Prince be too immeasure in every thing, for hear me, Hero, woo.

Beat. The fault will be in the mufic, coufin, if you be not woo'd in good time. portunate, tell him, there is and fo dance out the answer: ing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch jig, a meafure, and a cinque-pace; the first fuit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantaftical; the wedding mannerly modeft, as a measure, full of state and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he finks into his grave.

Leon. Coufin you apprehend paffing fhrewdly.

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

Leon. The ravellers are entering, brother; make good room.

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Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in mafquerade.

Pedro. Lady, will you walk with your friend? Hero, So you walk foftly, and look fweetly, and fay nothing, I am your's 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 please you to say so?

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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 should be thatch'd.
Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love *.

Balth. Well; I would you did like me.

Marg. So would not I for your own fake, for I have

many ill qualities.

Balth. Which is one?

This feems to be a line quoted from a fong or fume verfes commonly known at that time,

Marg.

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 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, unlefs 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 youɩ 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 said so.

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 dulf 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 pleafeth 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 say.

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