Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should fo doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to abhor. Bene. Is't poffible, fits the wind in that corner? [Afide. Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that he loves him with an inraged affection,-it is paft the definite of thought. Pedro. May be, fhe doth but counterfeit. Claud. Faith, like enough. Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was never counterfeit of paffion came so near the life of paffion, as fhe discovers it. Pedro. Why, what effects of paffion fhews she? [Afide. Leon. What effects, my lord? fhe will fit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. Claud. She did, indeed. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I would have thought, her fpirit had been invincible against all affaults of affection. Leon. I would have fworn, it had, my lord; especially against Benedick. Bene. [Afide.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, fure, hide himself in such reverence. Claud. He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. [Afide. Pedro. Hath fhe made her affection known to Benedick? Leon. No, and fwears she never will; that's her tor ment. Claud. 'Tis true, indeed, fo your daughter fays: fhall I, fays fhe, that have fo oft encounter'd him with fcorn, write to him that I love him? Leon. This fays fhe now, when she is beginning to write to him; for fhe'll be up twenty times a night, G 2 and and there will fhe fit in her smock, 'till she have writ a fheet of paper; my daughter tells us all. Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jeft your daughter told us of. Leon. O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, he found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet. Claud. That Leon. * O, fhe tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; rail'd at herself, that she should be fo immodeft, to write to one that, she knew, wou'd flout her: I measure him, fays fhe, by my own Spirit, for I fhould flout him if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I fhould. Claud. Then down upon her knees fhe falls, weeps, fobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curfes; O fweet Benedick! God give me patience! Leon. She doth, indeed, my daughter fays fo; and the ecftafy hath fo much overborne her, that my daughter is fometime afraid, fhe will do defperate outrage to herself; it is very true. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by fome other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. Pedro. If he fhould, it were an Alms to hang him; 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, wisdom and blood combating in fo tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. Pedro. I would, fhe had bestow'd this dotage on me; I would have dafft all other respects, and made O, he tore the letter into a thousand half-pence ;] i. e. into a thoufand Pieces of the same Bignefs. her her half myself; I pray you, tell Benedick of it; and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks, furely fhe will die; for fhe fays, fhe will die if he love her not, and she will die ere fhe make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than fhe will bate one breath of her accuftom'd croffness. Pedro. She doth well; if fhe fhould make tender of her love, 'tis very poffible, he'll scorn 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 with great difcretion, or undertakes them with a christian-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, howsoever it seems not in him, by fome large jefts he will make. Well, I am forry for your Neice: fhall we go feek Benedick, and tell him of her love? Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it with good counfel. Leon. Nay, that's impoffible, she 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 himfelf, to fee how much he is unworthy to have fo good a lady. Leon. My Lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never truft my expectation. [Afide. Pedro Let there be the fame net fpread for her, and that muft your daughter and her gentlewomen 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. Bene. SCENE X. Benedick advances from the Arbour. TH HIS can be no trick, the conference was fadly borne; they have the truth of this from Hero; they feem to pity the lady; it seems, 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 myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they fay too, that he will rather die than give any sign of affection. -I did never think to marry muft not seem proud-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 witness and virtuous; 'tis so, 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 fhould fhould 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. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. Beat. I took no more pains for those 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 message. 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 III. SCENE I. Continues in the Orchard. Enter Hero, Margaret, and Urfula. HERO. OOD Margaret, run thee into the parlour, G There that thou find my Coufin Beatrice, G 4 Forbid |