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wither he avoids them with great discrētion, or under. takes them with a most Christian-like fear.
Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. i D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your piece: shall we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love?
Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel.
Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first.
D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady. • Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. 4, Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation.
[Aside. - D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentle. woman carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter: that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.
(Aside. • ; (Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato.
Benedick advances from abode.'
Bene. This can be po trick: the conference was sadly borpe*, They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured; they
say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry I must not seem proud :-Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'lis a truth, I can bear them witness: and virtuous;-'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me :-By my troth, it is no addition to her wit;por no great argument of her folly, for I will be hor. ribly in love with her.-I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage:-But doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the ment in his youth, that he canuot endure in his age: shall quips, and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? No: the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.--Here comes Beatrice; By this day, she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
Beat. Agaiost my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. · Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. · Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come,
Bene. You take pleasure in the message?
Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal :-You have no stomach, signior: fare you well.
[Erit, Bene. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you come to dinner-there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thark me- that's as much as to say, Auy paips that I take for you is as easy as thanks :-If I do not take pity of her, I am a vil. lain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go get her picture.
SCENE I. Leonato's Garden.
Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula.
Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour; There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing* with the Prince and Claudio: Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of ber; say, that thou overheard'st us; Aud bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where lioney-suckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter;-like favourites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it: there will she hide
her, To listen our propose: this is thy office, Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.
[Erit. Hero. Now, Ursula, 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 praise him more than ever man did merit: My talk to thee must be, how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice : of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin ;
Enter Beatrice, behind.
Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
thing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it
[They advance to the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; I know, her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. Urs.
But are you sure, That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed
lord. Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam ?
Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it: But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it.
Uts. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon ? .
Hero. O god of love! I know, he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: But pature never fram'd a woman's heart of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice: Disdain and scorn ride sparkling iu her eyes, Misprising* what they look on; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
• A species of hawk.
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
Sure, I think so;
Hero. Why, you speak truth : I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, bow rarely featur'd, But she would spell him backward : if fair-faced, She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic, Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed; If low, an agate very vilely cut: If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds: If silent, why a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out; And never gives to truth and virtue, that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth,
Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable,
Hero. No: not to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She'd mock me into air; 0, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: It were a better death than die with mocks; Which is as bad as die with tickling. | Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say,
Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,
Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.