of one Deformed: they fay, he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd fo long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's fake. Pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honeft pains. Dogb. Your Worship speaks like a moft thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy pains. Dogb. God fave the foundation! Leon. Go, I difcharge thee of thy prifoner; and thank thee. Dogb. I leave an errant knave with your Worship, which, I beseech your Worship, to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your Worship; I wish your Worship well: God reftore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wifh'd, God prohibit it. Come, neighbour. [Exeunt. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, Lords, farewel. Ant. Farewel, my Lords; we look for you to-morrow. Pedro. We will not fail. Claud. Tonight I'll mourn with Hero. Leon. Bring you thefe fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt feverally. Lord Goring, &c. all great Courtiers.-As to the key in the ear, and the lock hanging by it, there may be a joke in the ambiguity of the terms. But whether we think, that Shakespeare meant to ridicule the fashion in the abtracted fenfe; or whether he fneer'd at the Courtiers, the parents of it, we fhall find the defcription equally fatirical. The key in the car might be fuppos'd literally: For they wore rings, lockets, and ribbands in a hole made in the car; and fometimes, rings one within another: but it might be likewife allegorically understood, to fignify, the great readiness the Courtiers had in giving ear to, or going into new follies or fashions. As for borrowing money and never paying, that is an old Common Place against the court and followers of fashions. Mr. Warburton Bene. SCENE changes to Leonato's Houfe. Enter Benedick and Margaret. PRAY RAY thee, fweet miftrefs Margaret, deferve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will my beauty? you then write me a fonnet in praise of Bene. In fo high a ftile, Margaret, that no man living fhall come over it; for, in moft comely truth, thou deferveft it. (27) Marg. To have no man come over me? why, fhall I always keep above ftairs? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A moft manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and fo, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers. Marg. Give us the fwords; we have bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. [Exit Margaret. Bene. And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of love, that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, bow pitiful I deferve, I mean, in finging; but in loving, Leander, the good (wimmer, Troilus the firft employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam (27) To have no man come over me? why, fhall I always keep below fairs?] Thus all the printed copies, but, fure, erroneously: for all the jeft, that can lie in the paffage, is deftroy'd by it? Any man might come over her, literally speaking, if the always kept below ftairs. By the correction I have ventur'd to make, Margaret, as I prefume, muft mean, What! fhall I always keep above stairs ? i. e. Shall I for ever continue a Chambermaid? carpet. Carpet-mongers, whofe names yet run fmoothly in the even road of a blank verfe; why, they were never fo truly turn'd over and over, as my poor felf in love; marry, I cannot fhew it in rhime; I have try'd; I can find out no rhime to lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for scorn, horn, a hard rhime; for School, fool, a babling rhine; very ominous endings; no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, would't thou come when I call thee? Beat. Yea, Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O, ftay but 'till then. Beat. Then, is fpoken; fare you well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath paft between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul words, and thereupon I will kifs thee. Beat. Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkist. Bene. Thou haft frighted the word out of its right fenfe, fo forcible is thy wit; but I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will fubfcribe him a coward; and, I pray thee, now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? Beat. For them altogether, which maintain'd fo pos litick a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you fuffer love for me? Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet; I do fuffer love, indeed, for I love thee againft my will. Beat. In fpight of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart, if you fpight it for my fake, I will fpight it for yours; for I will never love that, which my friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wife to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confeffion; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old inftance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he fhall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Queftion?-why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum; therefore it is moft expedient for the wife, if Don worm (his confcience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself; fo much for praifing myself; who, I myfelf will bear witnefs, is praife-worthy; and now tell me, how doth your Cousin ? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in hafte. Enter Urfula. Urfu. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yon der's old coil at home; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falfely accus'd; the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone will you come prefently? Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior? Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy heart; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to a CHURCH. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers. Claud. I S this the monument of Leonato ? Atten. It is, my lord, EPITAPH. Done to death by flanderous tongues So the life, that dy'd with fhame, Claud. Now mufick found, and fing your folemn hymn, Claud. Now unto thy bones good night Yearly will I do this Rite. Pedro. Good-morrow, mafters, put your torches out, The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phabus, round about Dapples the drowsy eaft with fpots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leave us ; fare you well. Claud. Good-morrow, mafters; each his feveral way Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds And then to Leonato's we will go. Claud. And Hymen now with luckier iffue fpeed's, (28) Than this, for whom we render'd this woe! [Exeunt. up (28) And Hymen now with luckier ifue fpeeds, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woc.] Claudio could not know, without being a prophet, that this new-propos'd match fhould have any luckier event than that defign'd with Hero. Certainly, therefore, this fhould be a wifh in Claudio; and, to this end, the poet might have wrote, speed's ; i. e. Speed us; and fo it becomes a prayer to Hymen' D5 Dr. Thirlby. SCENE |