Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife: [unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my

Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer:

other husband.

One Hero died defiled; but I do live,

And, surely as live, I am a maid.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!

Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify;

When, after that the holy rites are ended,

I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:
Meantime let wonder seem familiar,

And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, Friar.-Which is Beatrice?

Beat. I answer to that name; [unmasking.] What is

your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat. Why, no, no more than reason.

Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio, Have been deceived; for they swore, you did.

Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason.

Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula,
Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear, you did.

Bene. They swore, that you were almost sick for me.
Beat. They swore, that you were well nigh dead for me.
Bene. 'Tis no such matter: -Then, you do not love me?
Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence.

Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her;

For here's a paper, written in his hand,

A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero. And here's another,

Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts!
Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee

for pity.

Beat. I would not deny you;—but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to save your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption.

Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.

[kissing her.

Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married man?

Bene. I will tell thee what, prince; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but, in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.

Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends:-let us have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts,

and our wives' heels.

Leon. We will have dancing afterward.

Bene. First, on my word; therefore, play, music.Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina.

Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow; I will devise thee brave punishments for him.-Strike up, pipers. [dance. [Exeunt omnes.

From the Shakspeare Press, by

W. BULMER & CO.

VILLE DE LYON

Grande Bibliothèque