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fay, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth I can bear them witnefs and virtuous; 'tis fo, I cannot reprove it: and wife, but for loving me-by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be horribly in love with her.I may chance to have fome odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quipps and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a,man from the career of his humour? no: the world must be peopled. When I faid, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live 'till I were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice: by this day, fhe's a fair lady; I do fpy fome marks of love in her.

Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Against my will, I am fent to bid you come in to dinner.

Beat. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

Beat. I took no more pains for thofe thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleafure then in the meffage.

Beat. Yea, juft fo much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no ftomach, Signior; fare you well.

[Exit.

Bene. Ha! against my will I am fent to bid you come in to dinner: there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for thofe thanks, than you took pains to thank me; that's as much as to fay, any pains that I take for you is as eafy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew; I will go get her Picture.

[Exit.

ACT

ACT III.

SCENE continues in the Orchard.

G

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Urfula.

HER R O.

WOOD Margaret, run thee into the parlour, There fhalt thou find my Coufin Beatrice, Propofing with the Prince and Claudio; Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole difcourfe Is all of her; fay, that thou overheard'st us; ́ And bid her fteal into the pleached Bower, Where honey-fuckles, ripen'd by the Sun, Forbid the Sun to enter; like to Favourites, Made proud by Princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it: there will the hide her, To liften our Purpofe; this is thy office,

Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, prefently. [Exit. Hero. Now, Urfula, when Beatrice doth come, and down,

As we do trace this alley up

Our Talk muft only be of Benedick;

When I do name him, let it be thy part

To praife him more than ever man did merit.
My talk to thee muft be, how Benedick
Is fick in love with Beatrice; of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hear-fay: now begin.

Enter Beatrice, running towards the Arbour.
For look, where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Clofe by the ground to hear our conference.

Urf. The pleafant'it angling is to fee the fish

Cut

Cut with her golden oars the filver ftream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait;
So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture;
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lofe nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.
No, truly, Urfula, fhe's too difdainful;

I know, her fpirits are as coy and wild
As haggerds of the rock.

Urf. But are fare,

That Benedick loves Beatrice fo entirely?

Hero. So fays the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. Urf. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam ? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it; But I perfuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To with him wraftle with affection,

And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urf. Why did you fo? doth not the Gentleman Deferve as full, as fortunate a bed,

As ever Beatrice fhall couch upon?

Her. O God of love! I know, he doth deferve

As much as may be

yielded to a man:

But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder ftuff than that of Beatrice.
Difdain and Scorn ride fparkling in her eyes,
Mif-prizing what they look on; and her wit
Values itself fo highly, that to her

All matter elfe feems weak; fhe cannot love,
Nor take no fhape nor project of affection,
She is fo felf-indeared.

Urf. Sure, I think fo;

And therefore certainly it were not good

She knew his love, left she make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet faw man, How wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, But he would fpell him backward; if fair-fac'd, She'd fwear, the gentleman fhould be her fifler; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;

If

If low, an Aglet very vilely cut; (10)

If fpeaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If filent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns the every man the wrong fide out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that,
Which fimplenefs and merit purchaseth.

Urf. Sure, fure, fuch carping is not commendable. Hero. No; for to be fo odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.

But who dare tell her fo? if I fhould speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, fhe would laugh me
Out of myself, prefs me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Confume away in fighs, wafte inwardly;
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling.
Urf. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,
And counfel him to fight against his paffion.
And, truly, I'll devife fome honeft flanders
To stain my Coufin with; one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoifon liking.

Urf. O, do not do your Coufin fuch a wrong.
She cannot be fo much without true judgment,
(Having fo fwift and excellent a wit,

As fhe is priz'd to have) as to refuse

(10) If low, an Agat very vilely cut;] But why an Agat, if low? And what Shadow of Likeness between a little Man and an Agat? The Ancients, indeed, ufed this Stone to cut in, and upon; but moft exquifitely. I make no queftion but the Poet wrote;

an Aglet very vilely cut;

An Aglet was the Tag of thofe Points, formerly fo much in Fashion. Thefe Tags were either of Gold, Silver, or Brafs, according to the Quality of the Wearer; and were commonly in the Shape of little Images; or at least had a head cut at the Extremity, as is feen at the end of the Start of old-fashion'd Spoons. And as a tall Man is before compared to a Iance ill-headed; fo, by the fame Figure, a little Man is very aptly liken'd to an Aglet ill-cut,

Mr. Warburton.

Se

So rare a gentleman as Benedick.

Hero. He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio,

Urf. I pray you, be not angry with me, Madam,
Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick,

For fhape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urf. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.
When are you marry'd, Madam?

Hero. Why, every day; to-morrow; come, go in, I'll fhew thee fome attires, and have thy counsel Which is the beft to furnish me to-morrow.

Urf. She's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught her, Madam.

Hero, If it prove fo, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupids kill with arrows, fome with traps. [Exeunt.

Beatrice, advancing.

Beat. What fire is in my ears? can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn fo much?
Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of fuch.
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee;

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;
If thou doft love, thy kindness thall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band.
For others fay, thou doft deserve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly.

SCENE Leonato's House.

[Exit.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.

Pedro.

.I

DO but stay 'till your marriage be confummate, and then go I toward Arragon.

Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchfafe me.

Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a foil in the new

glofs

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