As ever Beatrice fhall couch upon;

Hero. 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.
Disdain and Scorn ride fparkling in her eyes,
Mif-prizing what they look on; and her wit
Values itfelf 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.

Urfu. Sure, I think fo;

And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, left the make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you fpeak truth. I never yet saw man, How wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, But fhe would fpel him backward; if fair-fac'd, (12) She'd fwear, the gentleman fhould be her fiter; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed; If low, an Aglet very vileły cut; (13)

(12)

if fair-fac'd,

She'd fwear, the gentleman fhould be her fifter;
If black, why nature drawing of an antick,

Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; &c.

If

Some of the editors have pretended, that our author never imitates any paffages of the ancients. Methinks, this is fo very like a remarkable defcription in Lucretius; (lib. iv. verf. 1154, &c.) that I can't help fufpecting, Shakespeare had it in view; the only difference feems to be, that the Latin poet's characteristics turn upon Praife; our countryman's, upon the hinge of Derogation.

Nigra ushixpo eft; immunda & foetida, üno±μ»
Celia, παλλάδιον nervofa & lignea, δορκάς.

Parvola, pumilio, xapírov pía, tota merum Sal:

Magna atque immanis, naláns, plenaque bonoris.

(13) If low, an Ágat very vilely cut; ] But why an Agat, if low ? And what fhadow of likenefs between a little man and an Agat? The ancients, indeed, ufed this ftone to cut in, and upon; but most exquifitely. I make no queftion, but the poet wrote;

an Aglet very vilely cut;

An Aglet was the tagg of thofe points, formerly fo much in fashion. Thefe taggs were either of gold, filver, or brafs, according to the

quality

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.

Urju. 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 should 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.
Urfu. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will fay.
Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,
And counfel him to fight against his paffion.
And, truly, I'll devife fome honest flanders
To ftain my Coufin with; one doth not know,
How much an ill-word may impoifon liking.

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

quality of the wearer; and were commonly in the fhare of little images; or at least) ad a head cut at the extremity, as is feen at the end of the fart of old-fashion'd fpoons. And as a tall man is before compar'd to a Launce ill-beaded; fo, by the fame figure, a little man is very aptly liken'd to an Aglet ill-cut. Mr. Warburton. I'll fubjcin a few pafiuges in confirmation of my friend's beautiful: conjecture.

Taming of the Shrew.

Why, give him Gold enough, and marry him to a Puppet, or an Agle-baby, &c.

The Two Noble Kinmen of Beaumont and Fletcher;

I'm very cold; and all the ftars are out too,

The little ftars, and all; that look like Aglets.

And Sir John Harrington, in his tranflation of Arifto's Orlando

Furiofo. Book V. St. 47.

The gown I ware was white, and richly fet

With Aglets, pearl, and lace of gold well garnish'd:
My ftately treffes cover'd with a net

Of beaten gold, most pure and brightly varnish'd, c.

As

As fhe is priz'd to have) as to refufe
So rare a gentleman as Benedick.

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

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

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

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urfu. 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 counfel Which is the beft to furnish me to-morrow.

Urfu. 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, my kindness shall 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 Houfe.

[Exit.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. Do but ftay 'till your marriage be confummate, and then go I toward Arragon.

I

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 of your marriage, as to fhew a child his new coat

and

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-ftring, and the little hangman dare not fhoot at him; he hath a heart as found as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue fpeaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leon. So fay I; methinks, you are fadder.
Claud. I hope, he is in love.

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 muft hang it firft, 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 mafter grief but he that has it.

Claud. Yet fay I, he is in love.

Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to ftrange difguifes, as to be a Dutch man to-day, a French man to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, a German from the wafte downward, all flops, and 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 fome woman, there is no believing old figns; he brushes his hat o'mornings; what fhould that bode?

Pedro. Hath any man feen 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 ftuft tennis-balls.

Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did by the lofs of a beard.

Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet; can you

him out by that ?

smell

Claud

Claud. That's as much as to fay, the fweet youth's in love.

Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. Claud. And when was he wont to wath his face? Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they fay of him.

Claud. Nay, but his jefting fpirit, which is now crept into a lute-ftring and now governed by flops

Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, 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 defpight of all, dies for him.

Old

Pedro. She fhall be bury'd with her heels upwards. (14) Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. Signior, walk afide with me, I have ftudy'd eight or nine wife words to speak to you which thefe hobbyhorfes must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. 'Tis even fo. 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.

(14) She shall be buried with her Face upwards.] Thus the whole fet of editions: But what is there any ways particular in this? Are not all men and women buried fo? Sure the poet means, in oppofition to the general rule, and by way of diftinction, with her keels upwards, or face downwards. I have chofe the firft reading, because I find it the expreffion in vogue in our author's time.

So Beaumont and Fletcher in their Wild-Goofe Chafe.

Whilst I have meat and drink, love cannot starve me;
For if I die i'th' first fit, I'm unhappy;

And worthy to be buried with my heels upwards.
And in The Woman's Prize; or, The Tamer tam'd:
Some few,

For thefe are rareft, they are faid to kill

With kindness and fair ufage; but what they are,
My Catalogue difcovers not; only 'tis thought,
They're buried in old walls with their heels upward.

And again, in The Coxromb;

Judge me, I do but jeft with thee: what, an fhe were inverted with ber beels upward, like a traytor's coat?

Enter