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 ufe of your discontent?

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 betroths himself to unquietness? Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand.

John. Who, the moft 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 Leo

nato.

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

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

John. Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my difpleasure: that young ftart-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can crofs him any way, I blefs my felf 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! fhall we go prove what's to be done?

Bora. We'll wait upon your Lordship.

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT II. SCENE I.

LEONATO's Houfe.

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

LEONATO.

AS not Count John here at fupper?

WAS

Ant. I faw him not.

Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see 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 just 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 tattling.

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 mony 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, neice, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be fo fhrewd of thy tongue.

Ant. In faith, she's too curft.

Beat. Too curft is more than curft, 4'and I shall` 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 husband, for the which bleffing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening:

4 I fhall

evening: Lord! I could not endure a husband with 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 lefs 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?

S

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 heav'n, 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, neice, I truft 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 pleafe 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 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.

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

Beat. The fault will be in the mufick, coufin, if you be not woo'd in good time; if the Prince be too importu

nate,

5

into hell.

nate, tell him there is measure in every thing, and fo dance out the Answer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch jig, a meafure, and a cinquepace; the first fuit is hot and hafty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly-modeft, as a measure, full of state and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace fafter and fafter, '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 revellers are entring, brother; make good

room.

SCENE

II.

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

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 please 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 visor fhould be thatch'd.

Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love, a

[Drawing her afide to whisper.

Balth. Well, I would you did like me.

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

many ill qualities.

Baltb. Which is one?

Marg.

(a) This feems to be a line quoted from a fong or fome verfes commonly known at that time. 6 Love.... old edit. Theob, emend.

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, 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 it felf? 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 shall 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, 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 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 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.