Claud. He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. [Afide. Pedro. Hath the made her affection known to Benedick? Leon. No, and fwears fhe never will; that's her torment. Claud. 'Tis true, indeed, fo your daughter fays: fhall I, fays fhe, that have so oft encounter'd him with fcorn, write to him that I love him?

Leon. This fays fhe now, when the is beginning to write to him; for fhe'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she fit in her fmock, 'till fhe have writ a fheet of paper; my daughter tells us all.

Claud Now you talk of a fheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.

Leon. O,-when fhe had writ it, and was reading it fhe found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet. Claud. That,

over,

Leon. (11) O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; rail'd at herself, that she should be fo immodeft, to write to one that, the knew, wou'd flout her: I meafure him, fays fhe, by my own fpirit, for I fhould flout him if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should. Claud. Then down upon her knees fhe falls, weeps, fobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curfes; fweet Benedick! God give me patience!

Leon. She doth, indeed, my daughter fays fo; and the ecftafy hath fo much overborn her, that my daughter is fometime afraid, fhe will do defperate outrage to herfelf; it is very true.

Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by fome other, if the will not discover it.

Claud. To what end? he would but make a fport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.

Pedro. If he fhould, it were an Alms to hang him;

(11)0, fhe tore the letter into a thousand half-pence;] i. e. into a thousand pieces of the same bignefs. This is farther explain'd by a paffage in As you Like it;

-There were none principal; they were all like, one another as half-pence are.

In both places the poet alludes to the old filver penny which had a creafe running cross-wife over it, fo that it might be broke into two or four equal pieces, half-pence, or farthings.

fhe's an excellent fweet lady, and (out of all fufpicion) fhe is virtuous.

Claud. And fhe is exceeding wife.

Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick.

Leon. O my lord, wifdom and blood combating in fo tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am forry for her, as I have juft caufe, being her uncle and her guardian.

Pedro. I would, she had bestow'd this dotage on me; I would have dafft all other respects, and made her half myfelf; I pray you, tell Benedick of it; and hear what he will fay.

Leon. Were it good, think you?

Claud. Hero thinks, furely the will die; for fhe fays, fhe will die if he love her not, and she will die ere the make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than the will bate one breath of her accustom'd crofsnefs.

Pedro. She doth well; if the should make tender of her love, 'tis very poffible, he'll fcorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

Claud. He is a very proper man.

Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and, in my mind, very wife. Pedro. He doth, indeed, fhew fome sparks that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

Pedro. As Hector, I affure you; and in the managing of quarrels you may fay he is wife; for either he avoids them with great difcretion, or undertakes them with a chriftian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he muft neceffarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

Pedro. And fo will he do, for the man doth fear God, howfoever it seems not in him, by fome large jests, he will make. Well, I am forry for your Niece: fhall we go feek Benedick, and tell him of her love?

Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counfel.

Leon.

Leon. Nay, that's impoffible, fhe may wear her heart out first.

Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modeftly examine himself to fee how much he is unworthy to have fo good a lady. Leon. My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never truft my expectation. [Afide. Pedro. Let there be the fame net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry ; the fport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no fuch matter; that's the Scene that I would fee, which will be merely a Dumb Show; let us fend her to call him to dinner. [Afide.] [Exeunt.

Benedick advances from the Arbour.

Bene. This can be no trick, the conference was fadly born; they have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady; it feems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited: I hear, how I am cenfur'd; they fay, I will bear myfelf proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they fay too, that fhe will rather die than give any fign of affection.I did never think to marry I muft not feem proud

me

-happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending: they 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 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 fo 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 fentences, and thefe paper-bullets of the brain, awe a nan from the carcer of his humour? no: the world mail be peopled. When I faid, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I fhould live 'till I were marry'd. Here

comes

comes Beatrice: by this day, fhe's a fair lady; I do spy fome marks of love in her.

Enter Beatrice.

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

Bene. 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 pleasure 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 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.

me ;

[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE continues in the Orchard.

G

Enter Hero, Margaret and Urfula.

HERO.

OOD 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 Urfula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole difcourfe
Is all of her; fay, that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal 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 Propofe; this is thy office,
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, presently [Exit.
Hero. Now, Urfula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our Talk must only be of Benedick;
When I do name him, let it be thy Part
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
My Talk to thee must 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
Close by the ground to hear our conference.
Urfu. The pleasant'ft angling is to fee the fish
Cut with her golden oars the filver stream,
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 falfe fweet 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.

Urjula. But are you fure,

That Benedick loves Beatrice fo intirely?

Hero. So fays the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. Urfu. 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 it.

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

As