Beat. Speak, Count, 'tis your cue.

Claud. Silence is the perfecteft herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and doat upon the exchange.

Beat. Speak. Coufin, or (if you cannot) ftop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither. Pedro. In faith, Lady, you have a merry heart. Beat. Yea, my Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy fide of care; my coufin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.

Claud. And fo fhe doth, coufin.

Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am fun-burn'd; I may fit in a corner, and cry heigh ho! for a husband. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beat. I would rather have one of your Father's getting hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? your Father got excellent Husbands, if a maid could come by them.

Pedro. Will you have me, Lady?

Beat. No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working days; your Grace is too coftly to wear every day : but I beseech your Grace, pardon me, I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.

Pedro. Your filence moft offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.

Beat. No, fure, my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a ftar danc'd, and under that I was born. Coufins, God give you joy.

Leon. Neice, will you look to those things I told you of?

Beat. I cry you mercy, Uncle: by your Grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice.

SCENE

E

SCENE VI.

Y my troth, a pleafant-fpirited Lady.

Pedro Leon. There's little of the melancholy ele

ment in her, my Lord; fhe is never fad but when fhe fleeps, and not ever fad then; for I have heard my daughter fay, fhe hath often dream'd of unhappiness, and wak'd herself with laughing.

Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a huf band.

Leon. O, by no means, fhe mocks all her wooers out of fuit.

Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.

Leon. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad.

Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?

Claud. To-morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches, 'till love have all his rites.

Leon. Not 'till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a juft seven-night, and a time too brief too, to have all things anfwer my mind.

Pedro. Come, you shake the head at fo long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the Interim undertake one of Hercules's labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other; I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I fhall give you direction.

Leon, My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights watchings.

Claud. And I, my Lord.

Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero?

Hero. I will do any modeft office, my Lord, to help

my Coufin to a good husband.

Pedro.

Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest hufband that I know: thus far I can praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approv'd valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour your Coufin, that the shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will fo practice on Benedick, that in despight of his quick wit, and his queafy stomach, he fhall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory fhall be ours, for we are the only Love-Gods; go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt.

SCENE

VII.

Changes to another Apartment in Leonato's House.

Enter Don John and Borachio.

John.TT is fo, the Count Claudio fhall marry the

I Daughter of Leonato.

Bona. Yea, my Lord, but I can cross it.

John. Any bar, any crofs, any impediment will be medicinable to me; I am fick in difpleasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canft thou cross this marriage?

Bora. Not honeftly, my Lord, but fo covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

John. Shew me briefly how.

Bora. I think, I told your lordship a year fince, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero.

John. I remember.

Bora. I can, at any unseasonable inftant of the night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's chamber-window.

John. What life is in That, to be the death of this marriage?

Bora.

Bora. The poifon of That lies in you to temper; go you to the Prince your brother, fpare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his Honour in marrying the renown'd Claudio, (whofe eftimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated Stale, fuch a one as Hero. John. What proof fhall I make of That?

Bora. Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you for any other issue ?

John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing.

Bora. Go then find me a meet hour, to draw Don Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them, that you know, Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in a love of your Brother's honour who hath made this match; and his friend's reputation, (who is thus like to be cozen'd with the femblance of a maid,) that you have difcover'd thus; they will hardly believe this without trial: offer them inftances, which fhall bear no lefs likelihood than to fee me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio: and bring them to fee this, the very night before the intended Wedding; for in the mean time I will fo fashion the matter, that Hero fhall be abfent; and there fhall appear fuch feeming truths of Hero's difloyalty, that jealousy fhall be call'd affurance, and all the preparation overthrown.

John. Grow this to what adverfe iffue it can, I will put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.

Bora. Be thou conftant in the accufation, and my cunning fhall not fhame me.

John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

Bene. BOY,

B Boy. Signior.

Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book, bring it hither to me in the orchard.

Boy. I am here already, Sir.

[Exit Boy.

Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence, and here again.—I do much wonder, that one man, feeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laught at fuch fhallow follies in others, become the argument of his own fcorn, by falling in love! and fuch a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no mufic with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the taber and the pipe ; I have known, when he would have walk'd ten mile a-foot, to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpofe, like an honeft man and a foldier; and now he is turn'd orthographer, his words are a very fantaftical banquet, just fo many ftrange difhes. May I be fo converted, and fee with these eyes? I cannot tell ; I think not. I will not be fworn, but love may transform me to an oyfter; but I'll take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me fuch a fool: one woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wife, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But 'till all graces be in one woman, one woman fhall not come in my grace. Rich fhe fhall be, that's certain; *wife, or I'll none;

Thefe Words added out of the Editions of 1623. Mr. Pope.

virtuous,