Claud. And Hymen now with luckier iffue fpeed's, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe!

[Exeunt.

SCENE

IX.

Changes to Leonato's Houfe.

Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio,

Friar.

Friar, and Hero.

DID I not tell you, fhe was innocent?

Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who
accus'd her,

Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in fome fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears,
In the true course of all the question.

Ant. Well; I am glad, that all things fort fo well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, Daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves. And when I fend for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To vifit me; you know your office, brother, You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, Signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior, Your neice regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most

true.

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The fight whereof, I think, you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will?

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Bene.

Bene. Your anfwer, Sir, is enigmatical;
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
I' th' ftate of honourable marriage;

In which, good Friar, I fhall defire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar. And my help.

Pedro.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants.
OOD morrow to this fair affembly.
Leon. Good morrow, Prince; good mor-
row, Claudio,

G

We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
To day to marry with my brother's daughter?
Claud. I'll hold my mind, were the an Ethiope.
Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready.
[Exit Antonio.

Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the

matter,

That you have fuch a February-face,

So full of froft, of ftorm and cloudiness?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the favage bull: Tufh, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And fo all Europe fhall rejoice at thee;

As once Europa did at lufty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low,

And fome fuch ftrange bull leapt your father's cow;
And got a calf, in that fame noble feat,
Much like to you; for you have just his bleat.

SCENE XI.

Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and

Claud.

FOR

Urfula, mask'd.

OR this I owe you; here come other recknings.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Ant.

Ant. This fame is fhe, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then fhe's mine; Sweet, let me fee your face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, 'till you take her

hand

Before this Friar, and swear to marry her.

Claud. Give me your hand;, before this holy Friar, I am your hufband if you like of me.

Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife.

And when lov'd, you you

Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer.

[Unmasking.

were my

other husband.

One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live;

And, furely, as I live, I am a maid.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!
Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her flander
liv'd.

Friar. All this amazement can I qualify.
When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time let wonder feem familiar,
And to the chapel let us prefently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that name; what is your will?
Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat. Why, no, no more than reason.

Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did. Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no, no more than reafon.

Beat. Why, then my Coufin, Margaret and Urfula, Have been deceiv'd; for they did fwear, you did. Bene. They fwore, you were almoft fick for me. Beat. They fwore, you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence.

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Leon.

Leon. Come, Coufin, I am fure, you love the gen

tleman.

Claud. And I'll be fworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper written in his hand,

A halting fonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero. And here's another,

Writ in my Coufin's hand, ftolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great perfuafion, and partly to fave your life; for as I was told, you were in a confumption.

Bene. Peace, I will ftop your mouth.

[Kiffing her. Pedro. How doft thou, Benedick, the married man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: doft thou think, I care for a fatire, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him; in brief, fince I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpofe that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclufion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinfman, live unbruis'd, and love my coufin.

Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy fingle life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my Coufin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends; let's have a

Dance

Dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play, music. Prince, thou art fad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn.

Enter Messenger.

Meff. My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina.

Bene. Think not on him 'till to-morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, [Dance. [Exeunt omnes.

Pipers.

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