Beat. Too curs'd is more than curs'd. I shall leffen God's fending that way: for it is faid, God fends a curs'd cow short horns; but to a cow too curs'd, he fends none. Leon. So, by being too curs'd, God will send you no horns. Beat. Just 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? dress 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 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 cousin's duty to make curtsy, and fay, Father, as it pleases you; but yet for all that, coufin, let him be a handfome fellow, or elfe make another curtsy, and fay, Father, as it pleafes me. Leon. Well, niece, 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 overmaster'd with a piece of valiant dust? 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 me, like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and say, Get you to beaven, 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 shews me where the bachelors fit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. Ant. Well, niece, &c. VOL. II. B 3 Leon. Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told you; if the Prince do folicit you in that kind, you know your anfwer. Beat. The fault will be in the mufic, 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 answer: for hear me, Hero, woo-. ing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch jig, a meafure, and a cinque-pace; the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly modest, 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 pafsing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good eye, uncle, I can fee a church by day-light. Leon. The ravellers are entering, brother; make good room. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar, and others in masquerade. Pedro. Lady, will you walk with your friend? Hero, So you walk foftly, and look sweetly, 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 say so when I please. Pedro. And when please you to fay so? Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend, 'the lute should be like the cafe ! Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. Hero. Why, then your visor 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 seems to be a line quoted from a song or some verses com monly known at that time. Marg. Marg. I fay my prayers aloud. i Balth. I love you the better; the hearers may cry Amen. Marg. God match me with a good dancer? 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 so 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? 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 fo. Bene: What's he? Beat. I am fure you know him well enough. Beat. Did he never make you laugh? Bene. I pray you, what is he? Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jester; a very dulf fool, only his gift is in devising impassable slanders. 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. Do, do; he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy and then there's a partridge-wing fav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Music within. Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [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? John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero: I pray you, disfuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it. Claud. How know ye he loves her ? Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to-night. John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt John and Bor. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, Therefore all hearts in love use your own tongues! Which I mistrusted not. Farewel then, Hero! Enter Benedick. Bene. Count Claudio ? Claud. Claud. Yea, the fame. T ١٠٠ Claud Whither? Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own bu finess, Count What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an usurer'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 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 strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the poft [Exit. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowle! now will he creep into fedges. But, that my Lady Beatrice should 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) disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, 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 forsaken; 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 nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? The tranfgreffion is in the stealer. B 3 Bene. |