Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your com To-night I take my leave.-This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother. Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her. [me, Dogb. Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not under white and black,) this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass. I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment: and also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's name; the which he hath used so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will let nothing for God's sake: pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. Leon. There's for thy pains. Dogb. God save the foundation! Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. Dogl. I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which, I beseech your worship, to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship: I wish your worship well; God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it.-Come, neighbour. [exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and the Watch. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. Ant. Farewell, my lords; we look for you toD. Pedro. We will not fail. morrow. Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero. [exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio. SOFNF II. LEONATO'S GARDEN. Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting. Bene. Pray 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. Marg. To have no man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches. Mary. And your's 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. 1 mean, in singing; but in loving,-Leander, the good swimmer, Troilus, the first employer o 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 turned over and over as my poor self, in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhyme to lady, but baby, an innocent rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; for school, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings. No, I was not born undet a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I called thee? Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O, stay but till then! Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now :and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee. Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore, I will depart unkissed. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his 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 didst thou first fall in love with me? Beat. For them all together; which maintained so politic 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 suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates. [ably. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceBeat. It appears not in this confession: there's not one wise man among twenty, that will praise himself. Graves, yawn, and yield your dead, Till death be uttered, Heavily, heavily. Claud. Now unto thy bones good night! D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your torches out: [day, The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gentle Before the wheels of Phœbus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters; each bis several way. [weeds; D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other And then to Leonato's we will go. [speeds, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue [exeunt. SCENE IV. A ROOM IN LEONATO'S HOUSE. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he | Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Urshall live no longer in monument, than the bell rings, and the widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you? Bene. Question ?-Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum. Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, (if Don Worm, his con.. science, find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, (who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy,) and now tell me, how doth your cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula, Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home: it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; 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 heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. [exeunt. SCENE III. THE INSIDE OF A CHURCH, Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants, with music and tapers. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? Atten. It is, my lord. Claud. [Reads from a scroll.] Done to death by slanderous tongues. Gives her fame which never dies. [affixing it. Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. (Song.) Pardon, goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight; sula, Friar, and Hero. Friar. Did 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. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort 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 yourselves: And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit 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 counte nance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat 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 niece regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'tis most true. from me, Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Here comes the prince, and Claudio. Claudio; We here attend you; are you yet determin'd Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar ready. [exit Antonio. D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull:-- [cow, Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable l w; And some such strange bull leap'd your father's And got a calf in that same noble feat, Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies masked. Claud. For this I owe you: here come other reckonings. Which is the lady I must seize upon? Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face. [hand Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand before this holy I am your husband, if you like of me, [friar; Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife: [unmasking. And when you loved, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero? Hero. Nothing certainer : Our Hero died defil'd; but I do live, And, surely as I live, I am a maid. D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slan der lived. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; Bene. Soft and fair, friar.—Which is Beatrice? Bene. Do not you love me? Have been deceived; for they swore you did. Bene, No, no more than reason. [Ursula, Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear, you did. Bene. They swore, that you were almost sick for me. [dead for me. Beat. They swore, that you were well-nigh Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves 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 'er. D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers 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 exceedingly narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends :-let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards Bene. First, o'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 tipp'd with horn. Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, in mourning. Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep v'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. Laf. A fistula, my lord. Ber. I heard not of it before. Laf. I would, it were not notorious. gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ? Was this Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer: for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness. Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ;-you, sir, a father. He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance. Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season Count. What hope is there of his majesty's her praise in. The remembrance of her father amendment? Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope and finds no other advantage in the process, but only the losing of hope by time. Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (O, that had! how sad a passage 'tis!) whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think, it would be the death of the king's disease. Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam? Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon, Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him, admiringly and mourningly he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mor tality. Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of? Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have. Hel. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. In manners, as in shape thy blood, and virtue, That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord, Laf. He cannot want the best Count. Heaven bless him! - Farewell, Bertram. [exit Countess. Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts, [to Helena,] be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her. Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of your father. [exeunt Bertram and Lafeu. Hel. O, were that all!-I think not on my father: And these great tears grace his remembrance more Enter Parolles. One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; Hel. And you, monarch. Par. No. Hel. And no. [see Par. Are you meditating on virginity? Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a question.-Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? Par. Keep him out. Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance. Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up. Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, and blowers up!-Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men? were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost; 'tis too cold a companion; away with it. Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. : Par. There's little can be said in't: 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He, that hangs himself, is a virgin virginity murders itself; and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virgi. nity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't: Out with't: within ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse: Away with't. Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? Par. Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. "Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying: the longer kept, the less worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible: answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and tooth-pick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear.-Will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet. There shall your master have a thousand loves, Hel. That I wish well.-"Tis pity—— Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Par. Virginity being blown down, man will Enter a Page. Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [exit Page. Par. Little Helen, farewell: If I can remember thee, |