Bene.

SCENE changes to Leonato's House.

P

Enter Benedick, and Margaret.

RAY thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the

speech of Beatrice.

Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty ?

Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it.

(20) Marg. To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep above stairs ?

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 most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers.

Marg. Give us the swords; 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 deserve, - I mean, in finging; but

(20) To have no Man come over me? why, shall I always keep below Stairs?] Thus all the printed Copies, but, fure, erroneoufly: for all the Jest, that can lie in the Passage, is destroy'd by it. Any Man might come over her, literally speaking, if the always kept below Stairs. By the Correction I have ventur'd to make, Margaret, as I presume, must mean, What! shall I always keep above Stairs? i. e. Shall I for ever continue

in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse; why, they were never so truly turn'd over and over, as my poor felf, in love; marry, I cannot shew it in rhime; I have try'd; I can find out no rhime to lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for fcorn, horn, a hard rhime; for school, fool, a babling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms.

Enter Beatrice.

Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call thee? Beat. Yea, Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O, stay 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 past between you and Claudio.

Bene. Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss 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 hast frighted the word out of its right sense, so 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 subscribe him a coward; and, I pray thee, now tell me, for which of my bad parts didit thou first fall in love with me?

Beat. For them all together; which maintain'd so politick 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 first suffer love for me?

Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet; I do fuffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

Beat. In spight of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart, if you spight it for my fake, I will spight it for yours; for I will never love that, which my friend hates.

Bene.

Bene. Thou and I are too wise 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 instance, 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 shall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you ?

a

Bene. Question? - why, an hour in clamour, and quarter in rhewm; therefore it is most 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 my felf; so much for praising my felf; who, I my felf will bear witness, is praise-worthy; and now tell me, how doth your Coufin?

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 haste.

Enter Urfula.

Urfu. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely 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 presently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior? Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and te 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.

D 4

ΕΡΙΕΡΙΤAPH.

Done to death by flanderous tongues
Was the Hero, that here lyes:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life, that dy'd with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb.

Claud. Now musick found, and fing your folema hymn.

SONG.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Those that flew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, afist our moan;
Help us to figh and groan

Heavily, heavily:

Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
'Till death be uttered,
Heavily, heavily.

Claud. Now unto thy bones good night! Yearly will I do this Right.

Pedro. Good morrow, masters, put your torches out; The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day,

Before the wheels of Phœbus, round about

Dapples the drowfie east with spots of grey : Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well.

Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several

way.

Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud.

Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's, (21) Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.

Friar. DI

ID I not tell you, she was innocent?
Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who

accus'd her,

Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in fome fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears,
In the true course of all the question.

Ant. Well; I am glad, that all things fort so well.
Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, Daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by your selves,
And when I fend for you, come hither mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To vifit me; you know your office, brother,
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.
[Exeunt Ladies.

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.
Bene. Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think.
Friar. To do what, Signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior,
Your neice regards me with an eye of favour.

(21) And Hymen now with luckier Issue speeds,

Than this, for whom we render'd up this Woe.] Claudio could not know, without being a Prophet, that this new-propos'd Match should have any luckier Event than That design'd with Hero. Certainly, therefore, this should be a Win in Claudio; and, to this End, the Poet might have wrote, speed's; i. e, speed us; and so it becomes a Prayer to Hymen.

D5

Dr. Thirlby.

Lean.