Walk in the orchard, and our whole difcourfe Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, prefently. [Exit, Hero. Now, Urfula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick: When I do name him, let it be thy part To praife him more than ever man did merit; My talk to thee must be, how Benedick Is fick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hear-fay. Now begin. Enter BEATRICE, behind. For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lofe nothing Of the falfe fweet bait that we lay for it. [They advance to the bower, No, truly, Urfula, fhe is too difdainful; I know, I know, her spirits are as coy and wild Urf. But are you fure That Benedick loves Beatrice fo entirely? Hero. So fays the prince, and my new-trothed lord. Urf. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it: But I perfuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Urf. Why did you fo? Doth not the gentleman Deferve as full, as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice fhall couch upon? Hero. O god of love! I know, he doth deferve All matter elfe feems weak: she cannot love, Urf. Sure, I think fo; And therefore, certainly, it were not good Hero. Why, you speak truth: I never yet faw man, If fpeaking, why, a yane blown with all winds; If filent, why, a block moved with none. Urf. Sure, fure, fuch carping is not commendable. Hero. No; not to be fo odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: But who dare tell her fo? If I fhould speak, Urf. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will fay. Urf. O, do not do your coufin fuch a wrong. Urf. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy; fignior Benedick, For fhape, for bearing, argument, and valour, Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. Urf. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. When are you marry'd, madam? Hero. Hero. Why, every day;-to-morrow: Come, go in, I'll fhew thee fome attires: and have thy counfel, Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. Urf. She's lim'd, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam. Hero. If it proves fo, then loving goes by haps: Some Cupid kills with arrows, fome with traps. BEATRICE advancing. [Exeunt. Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and fcorn fo much? Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of fuch. And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee; Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; If thou doft love, my kindness fhall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band: For others fay, thou dost deserve; and I Believe it better than reportingly. SCENE II. LEONATO's house, [Exit. Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LE ONATO. Pedro. I do but ftay 'till your marriage be confummate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchfafe me. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a foil in the new glofs, of your marriage, as to fhew a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the fole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowftring, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart as found as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue fpeaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So fay I; methinks, you are fadder. Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love: if he be fad, he wants money. Bene. I have the tooth-ach. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it. Claud. You must hang it firft, and draw it after wards. Pedro. What? figh for the tooth-ach? that has it. Claud. Yet fay I, he is in love. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to ftrange difguifes; as to be a Dutchman to-day; a Frenchman to-mor、 row; or in the fhape of two countries at once; as a German from the waist downward, all flops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to appear he is. Claud. If he be not in love with fome woman, there is no believing old figns: he brushes his hat o' morn ings: What fhould that bode? Pedro. Hath any man feen him at the barber's? Claud |