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with silver, set with pearls down-sleeves, fide-sleeves and skirts, round underborne with a blueish tinsel; but for a fine, quaint, graceful and excellent fashion, your's is worth ten on't.

Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy!

Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a


Hero. Fie upon thee, art not asham'd ?

Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I think, you would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a Husband ? none, I think, if it be the right Husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes.

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Enter Beatrice.
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Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. Hero. Why, how now? do you speak in the fick tune ?

Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks.

Marg. Clap us into Light o' love ; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it.

Beat. Yes, Light o' love with your heels; then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he ihall lack no barns.

Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my

Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time

you were ready: by my troth, I am exceeding ill; hey ho!


Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ?
Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.

Marg. Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by the star.

Beat. What means the fool, trow?

Marg. Nothing I, but God send every one their heart's desire !

Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume.

Beat. I am stųfft, cousin, I cannot smell.

Marg. A maid, and stufft! there's goodly catching of cold.

Beat. 0, God help me, God help me, how long have you profest apprehension ?

Marg. Ever since you left it ; doth not my wit become me rarely? Beat. It is not seen enough, you


wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am fick.

Marg. Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Benedi&us, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero. There thou prick'At her with a thistle. ; Beat. Benedi&us? why Benedittus? you have some moral in this Benedi&tus.

Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning, I meant plain holy-thistle: you may think, perchance, that I think you are in love; nay, birlady, I am not such a fool to think what I lift; nor I list not to think what I can ; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedick was such another, and now he is become a man; he swore, he would never marry; and yet now, in despight of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted, I know not; but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do.

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps ?


Marg. Not a false gallop.

Ursu. Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the Gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church.

Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.


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Another Apartment in Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. Leon. THAT would you with me, honest neigh

bour? Dogb. Marry, Sir, I would have some confidence with you, that decerns you nearly.

León. Brief, I pray you; for, you see, 'tis a busy time with me.

Dogb. Marry, this it is, Sir.
Verg. Yes, in truth it is, Sir.
Leon. What is it, my good friends?

Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, fpeaks a little of the matter; an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, as honest as the skin between his brows.

Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honefter than I.

Dogb. Comparisons are odorous; palabras, neighbour Verges.

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ha?

Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your worship any

man in the city; and tho' I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.


as of

Verg. And so am I.
Leon. I would fain know what you have to say.

Verg. Marry, Sir, our Watch to night, excepting your worship's presence, hath ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Medina.

Dogb. A good old man, Sir; he will be talking, as they say; when the age is in, the wit is out; God help us, it is a world to see: well said, i'faith, neighbour Verges, well, he's a good man; an two men ride an horse, one must ride behind; an honest soul, i'faith, Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God is to be worshipp'd; all men are not alike, alas, good neighbour!

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.
Dogb. Gifts, that God gives.
Leon. I muit leave you.

Dogb. One word, Sir; our Watch have, indeed, comprehended two auspicious persons; and we would have them this morning examin'd before your worship.

Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me: I am now in great hafte, as may appear unto


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Dogb. It shall be suffigance.
Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you

Enter a Messenger.
Mes. My lord, they stay for you to give your daug-
ter to her husband.

Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. (Ex. Leon.

Dogb. Go, good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacole, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men.

Verg. And we must do it wisely.

Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant; here's That shall drive some of them to a noncome. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the Jail.




S C Ε Ν Ε Ι.


Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio,

Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice.


marry her.

MOME, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain

form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.

Friar. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady?

Claud. No.
Leon. To be marry'd to her, friar, you come to

Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count ?

Hero. I do.

Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your souls to utter it.

Claud. Know you any, Hero?
Hero. None, my Lord.
Friar. Know you any, Count?
Leon. I dare make his answer, none.

Claud. O what men dare do! what men may do ! what Men daily do! not knowing what they do!

Bene. How now? Interjections? why, then some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he!

Claud. Stand thce by, friar: father, by your leave;
Will you with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid your daughter?

Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
Vol. II.



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