Beat. Too curs'd is more than curs'd. I fhall leffen God's fending that way: for it is faid, God fends a curs'd cow fhort horns; but to a cow too curs'd, he fends none.

Leon. So, by being too curs'd, God will fend you no horns.

Beat. Juft if he send me no husband; for the which bleffing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in woollen.

Leon. You may light upon a husband that hath no beard.

Beat. What fhould I do with him? drefs him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is lefs than a man; and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is lefs than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take fixpence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell*.

Ant. Well, niece, 1 truft, you will be rul'd by your father. [To Hero. Beat. Yes, faith, it is my coufin's duty to make curtfy, and fay, Father, as it pleafes you; but yet for all that, coufin, let him be a handfome fellow, or else make another curtfy, and fay, Father, as it pleafes me.

Leon. Well, niece, I hope to fee you one day fitted

with a husband.

Beat. Not till God make men of fome other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be over→ mafter'd with a piece of valiant duft? to make account of her life to a clod of wayward marle? No, uncle, I'll none; Adam's fons are my brethren, and truly, I hold it a fin to match in kindred.

VOL. II.

-into hell.

my

B

Leon. Well then, go you into hell.

Leon

Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and fay, Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heav'n, here's no place for you maids. So deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns; he fhews me where the bachelors fit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.

Ant. Well, niece, &c.

Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told you; if the Prince do folicit you in that kind, you know your anfwer.

Beat. The fault will be in the mufic, coufin, if you be not woo'd in good time. If the Prince be too importunate, tell him, there is measure in every thing, and fo dance out the answer: for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch'jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace; the firft fuit is hot and hafty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly-modeft, as a meafure, full of ftate and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace fafter and fafter, till he finks into his grave.

Leon. Coufin, you apprehend paffing fhrewdly.

Beat. I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by day-light.

Leon. The revellers are entering, brother; make good

rootn.

SCENE II.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and others in mafquerade.

Pedro. Lady, will

you walk with your friend? Hero. So you walk foftly, and look fweetly, and fay nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk away.

Pedro. With me in your company ?

Hero. I may fay fo when I please.

Pedro. And when please you to say fo?

Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend, the lute fhould be like the cafe!

Pedro. My vifor is Philemon's roof; within the house

is Jove.

Hero. Why, then your visor fhould be thatch'd.

Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love *.

Balth. Well; I would you did like me.

Marg. So would not I for your own fake, for I have

many ill qualities.

Balth. Which is one?

Marg.

* This feems to be a line quoted from a song, or some verfes, commonly known at that time.

Marg. I fay my prayers aloud.

Balth. I love you the better; the hearers may cry Amen.

Marg. God match me with a good dancer!

Balth. Amen.

Marg. And God keep him out of my fight when the dance is done! Answer, clerk.

Balth. No more words, the clerk is anfwer'd.

Urf. I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio,

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urf. I know you by the wagling of your head.

Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

Urf. You could never do him fo ill-well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urf. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide itfelf? Go to, mum, you are he; graces will appear, and there's an

end.

Beat. Will you not tell me, who told you fo?

Bene. No, you shall pardon me.

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
Bene. Not now.

Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of The hundred merry tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that faid fo.

Bene. What's he?

Beat. I am fure you know him well enough.

Bene. Not I, believe me.

Beat. Did he never make you laugh?

Bene. I pray you, what is he?

Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jefter: a very dull fool, only his gift is in devifing impaffable flanders. None but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy; for he both pleafeth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him. I am fure he is in the fleet: I would he had board

ed me. Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you fay.

B 2

Beat

Beat. Do, do; he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, ftrikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge-wing fav'd, for the fool will eat no fupper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Mufic within. Bene. In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio.

John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it; the ladies follow her, and but one vifor remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio; I know him by his bearing.

John. Are you not Signior Benedick?

Claud. You know me well, I am he.

John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero: I pray you, diffuade him from her, he is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honeft man in it.

Claud. How know ye he loves her?

John. I heard him fwear his affection.

Bora. So did I too, and he fwore he would marry her to-night.

John. Come, let us to the banquet.

[Exeunt John and Bora. Claud. Thus anfwer 1 in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. "Tis certain fo, the Prince wooes for himself. Friendhip is conftant in all other things,

Save in the office and affairs of love;

Therefore all hearts, in love, use your own tongues!

Let every eye negotiate for itself,

And truft no agent; beauty is a witch,

Against whofe charms faith melteth into blood.

This is an accident of hourly proof,

Which I miftrufted not.

Farewell then, Hero!

Enter Benedick.

Bene. Count Claudio?

Clayd

Claud. Yea, the fame.

Bene. Come, will you go with me?

Claud. Whither.

Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own bufinefs, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.

Claud. I with him joy of her.

Bene. Why, that's fpoken like an honeft drover; for they fell bullocks: but did you think the Prince would have ferved you thus?

Claud. I pray you leave me.

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas.. the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you.

[Exit. Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowle! now will he creep into fedges. But, that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The Prince's fool! ha? it may be I go under that title, because I am merry; yea, but fo I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so reputed. It is the bafe (tho' bitter) difpofition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her perfon, and fo gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as 1 may.

SCENE IV. Enter Don Pedro..

Pedro. Now, Signior, where's the Count? did you fee him?

Bene. Troth, my Lord, I have play'd the part of Lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him, (and I think told him true,) that your Grace had got the will of this young lady; and I offer'd him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forfaken; or to, bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.

Pedro. To be whipt! what's his fault?

Bene. The flat tranfgreffion of a school-boy; who, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's neft, fhews it his companion, and he fteals it.

Pedro. Wilt thou make a truft, a tranfgreffion? The tranfgreffion is in the stealer.

B 3

Bene.