Claud. I'll bring you thither my Lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a foil in the new glofs of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company: for, from the crown of his head to the fole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart as found as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Pedro. Hang him, truant, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love if he be fad, he wants money. Bene. I have the tooth-ach. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it. Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. Pedro. What! figh for the tooth-ach! Leon. Which is but a humour, or a worm. Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. Glaud. Yet say I, he is in love. "There is no appearance of fancy in him, "unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguifes; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once; a "German from the waste downward, all flops; and 66 66 a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet." Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is. Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old figns: he brushes his hat o'mornings; what should that bode? Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuff'd tennis-balls. L.com Leon. Indeed he looks younger than he did by the lofs of a beard. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet; can you fmell him out by that? Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. hear what they fay of him Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string, and now govern'd by stopsPedro. Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Con-clude he is in love. Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not. Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight. of all, dies for him. Pedro, She shall be bury'd with her face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Old Signior, walk afide with me; I have study'd eight or nine wife words to speak to you, which these hobbyhorfes must not hear. (Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this play'd their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. SCENE III. Enter Don John. John. My Lord and brother, God fave you. Pedro. Good den, brother. John. If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. John. If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of, concerns him. Pedro. What's the matter? John. Means your Lordship to be marry'd to-mor row? Pedro. You know he does, [To Claudio. John John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you difcover it. John. You may think I love you not; let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifeft; for my brother, I think, he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your enfuing marriage; furely, fuit ill spent, and labour ill bestow'd! Pedro. Why, what's the matter? John. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shorten'd, (for the hath been too long a talking of), the lady is disloyal. Claud. Who? Hero? John. Even the; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. Claud. Difloyal? John. The word is too good to paint out her wick edness. I could say the were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it; wonder not till further warrant; go but with me to-night, you shall fee her chamber-window enter'd, even the night before her wedding-day. If you love her, then to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. Claud. May this be so ? John. If you dare not trust that you fee, confefs not that you know; if you will follow me, I will thew you enough; and when you have feen more and heard more, proceed accordingly Claud. If I fee any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow; in the congregation, where I fhould wed, there will I shame her. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to difgrace her. John I will difparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses; bear it coldly but till night, and let the iffue shew itself. Pedro. O day untowardly turn'd ! Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting! John, John. O plague right well prevented! [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to the street. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the watch. Dogb. Are you good men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should fuffer falvation, body and foul. Dogh. Nay that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chofen for the Prince's watch. Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. Dogb. First, who think you the most defartless man to be conftable ? 1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, Sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read. Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacole: God hath blessed you with a good name; and to be a well-favour'd man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. 2 Watch. Both which, Master Conftable- Dogh. You have: I knew, it would be your anfwer. Well, for your favour, Sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is more need of fuch vanity: you are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the conftable of the watch, therefore bear you the lanthorn; this is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man ftand, in the Prince's name. 1 2 Watch. How if he will not stand! Dogb. Why, then take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's fubjects, Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's subjects. You shall also make no no fe in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endur'd 2 Watch "We will rather fleep than talk; weknow "what belongs to a watch." Dogb. "Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot fee how fleeping should offend; only have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the alehouses, and bid them that are drunk get them to " bed." " 2 Watch. How if they will not ? Dougb. Why then let them alone till they are fober; if they make you not then the better answer, you may fay, they are not the men you took them for. 2 Watch. Well, Sir. Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him by virtue of your office to be no true man; and for fuch kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. 2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? Dogb. Truly, by your office you may; but, I think, they that touch pitch will de defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your company. partner. Verg. You have been always call'd a merciful man, Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Dogb. Why, then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats. Verg. 'Tis very true. Dogb. This is the end of the charge: you, conftable, are to present the Prince's own perfon; if you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him. VOL. II. D Verg. |