Enter Don John and Borachio.

D. John. It is so: the count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.

to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love such shallow follies in others, become the arguwith Benedick-and 1, with your two helps.ment of his own scorn, by falling in love: And will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of such a man is Claudio. I have known, when his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall there was no musick with him but the drum and fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be the pipe: I have known, when he would have ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with walked ten mile afoot, to see a good armour; me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving SCENE II. Another Room in Leonato's House. the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man, and a soldier; and now is he turn'd orthographer; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair; yet I am well: another is wise; yet I am well: another virtuous; yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdraws.

Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?

Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. D. John. Show me briefly how. Bora. I think, I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero.

D. John. I remember.

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

D. John. What life is in that to be the death of this marriage?

Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.

D. John. What proof shall 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?

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

D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself?

Claud. O, very well, my lord: the musick ended,

We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.

Enter Balthazar, with musick.

D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that
song again.

To slander musick any more than once.
Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice

Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the count Claudio alone: tel! them, that you know that Hero loves me; intend D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claulio, To put a strange face on his own perfection:as-in love of your brother's honour, who hath I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. made this match; and his friend's reputation, Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing: who is thus like to be cozened with the sem- Since many a wooer doth commence his suit blance of a maid,-that you have discovered To her he thinks not worthy; yet he woos; thus. They will scarcely believe this without Yet will he swear, he loves. trial offer them instances; which shall bear no D. Pedro. less likelihood, than to see me at her chamber-Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument, window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Do' it in notes. Margaret term me Claudio; and bring them to Balth. see this, the very night before the intended wed-There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. ding; for, in the mean time I will so fashion the D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets that matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall! he speaks; appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown.

D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it
can, I will put it in practice: Be cunning in the
working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.
Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and
my cunning shall not shame me.
D. John. I will presently go learn their day of
marriage.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Leonato's Garden.
Enter Benedick and a Boy.

Nay, 'pray thee, come:

Note this before my notes,

Note, notes, forsooth, and noting! [Musick. Bene. Now, Divine air! now is his soul ravish ed-Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies ?-Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.

Balth.

Balthazar sings.

D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song.
Balth And an ill singer, my lord.

D. Pedro. Ha? no; no, 'faith; thou singest well enough for a shift.

Bene. [Aside.] An he had been a dog, that should have howl'd thus, they would have hanged him: and I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. D. Pedro. Yea, marry; [To Claudio.]-Dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee get us some excellent musick; for to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber window. Balth. The best I can, my lord.

D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exeunt Balthazar and musick.] Come hither, Leonato: What was it you told me of to-day? That your niece Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick? Claud O, ay:-Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. [Aside to Pedro.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man.

my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a
D. Pedro. it were good, that Benedick knew
desperate outrage to herself: It is very true.
of it by some other, if she will not discover it.
Claud. To what end? He would but make a
sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.
D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to
hang him: She's an excellent sweet lady; and,
Claud. And she is exceeding wise.
out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.
dick.
D. Pedro. In every thing but in loving Bene-
Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combat-
one, that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for
ing in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to
her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and
her guardian.

tage on me; I would have daff'd all other reD. Pedro. I would, she had bestow'd this dospects, and made her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die; for she says, she will die if he love her not; and she will Bene. Is't possible 7 Sits the wind in that cor-die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one die ere she makes her love known; and she will ner ? breath of her accustomed crossness.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed

ever to abhor.

[Aside. Leon By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an enraged affection,-it is past the infinite of thought. D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. Claud. 'Faith, like enough.

Leon. O God! counterfeit! There never was counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it.

D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she?

Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.

[Aside.

D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

Claud. He is a very proper man. D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness.

D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some sparks Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the Leon. What effects, my lord! She will sit you,-managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; You heard my daughter tell you how. for either he avoids them with great discretion, Claud. She did, indeed. or undertakes them with a most christian-like fear.

D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me; I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.

Bene. Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence. Claud. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up. [Aside. D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? Leon. No; and swears she never will: that's her torment.

Claud. 'Tis true indeed; so your daughter says: Shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him! Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him: for she'll be up twenty times a night: and there will she sit in her smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper:-my daughter

Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for him of her love? your niece: shall we go see Benedick, and tell

Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel.

her heart out first.
Leon. Nay, that's impossible: she may wear

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 ex-
to have so good a lady.
amine himself, to see how much he is unworthy

Leon. My lord, will you walk ? dinner is ready. never trust my expectation. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will tells us all. [Aside. D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I re-her; and that must your daughter and her genmember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. Leon. Of-When she had writ it, and was read-hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no tlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they ing it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet 7

Claud. That.

Leon. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her; I measure him, says she, by my own spirit, for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.

Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses:-O sweet Benedick! God give me pa

tience!

Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that

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 the arbour. Bene. This can be no trick: The conference was sadly borne.-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 ;-1

Urs.

But are you sure,
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
Hero. So says the prince, and my new-betroth
ed lord.

must not seem proud:-Happy are they that Of the false sweet bait, that we lay for it.hear their detractions, and can put them to mend[They advance to the bower. ing. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; can bear them witness: and virtuous;-'tis so, I know her spirits are as coy and wild I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving As haggards of the rock. me:-By my troth, it is no addition to her wit; -nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly 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 meat in his youth that he cannot 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 bache-Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, lor, 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. Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Against 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 then 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. [Exit. 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 thank me-that's as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks:-If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain: if I do not love her I am a Jew: I will go get her picture. [Exit.

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula.
Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the par-
lour;

There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear, and tell her, 1 and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honey-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, pre-
sently.
[Exit.
Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace tnis 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.

For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with their golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait:
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture:
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Vero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose
nothing

Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam 3
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 let Beatrice know of it.

Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman

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 nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice:
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in 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,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.
Urs.

Sure, I think so;

And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport of it.
Hero. Why, you speak truth: I never yet saw

man,

How wise, how noble, young, how rarely fea-
tur'd,

But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd,
She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick,
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 commend
able.

Hero. No: not to be so odd, and from all
fashions,

As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable:
But who dare tell her so 7 If I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, 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 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,
And counsel him to fight against his passion :
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with: One doth not know,
How much an ill word may empoison liking.

Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment,
(Having so swift and excellent a wit,
As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam
Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.-
When are you married, madam?

Hero. Why, every day;-to-morrow: Come
go in;

I'll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel,
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Urs. She's lim'd 1 warrant you; we have
caught her, madam.

Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [Exeunt Hero and Ursula. Beatrice advances.

[Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?

Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so
much?

Contempt, farewell! and, maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee;
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops.

D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: Conclude, conclude, he is in love. Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. D. Pedro. That would I know too; I warrant, one that knows him not.

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him.

D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards.

Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ache.

If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee-Old signior, walk aside with me: I have
To bind our loves up in a holy band:
For others say, thou dost deserve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly."

[Exit.

SCENE II. A Room in Leonato's House. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and

Leonato.

D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll Vouchsafe me.

D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper: for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leon. So say I; methinks you are sadder.
Claud. I hope, he be in love.

D. Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no true
drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with
love: if he be sad, he wants money.
Bene. I have the tooth-ache.

D. Pedro. Draw it.

Bene. Hang it!

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.

D. Pedro. What, sigh for the tooth-ache? Leon Where is but a humour, or a worm? Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but be that has it.

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love.

D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day; a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once; as, a German from the waist downward, all slops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.

Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat o' mornings; What should that bode ? D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's?

Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been Been with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls.

Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did,
y the loss of a beard.

D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet:
Can you smell him out by that?
Claud. That's as much as to say, The sweet
youth's in love.

D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?

D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.

studied eight or nine wise words to speak to
you, which these hobby-horses must not hear.
[Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.
D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him
about Beatrice.

Claud. 'Tis even so: Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another

when they meet.

Enter Don John.

D. John. My lord and brother, God save you.
D. Pedro. Good den, brother.
D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak
with you.
D. Pedro. In private ?

D. John. If it please you :-yet count Claudio
may hear; for what I would speak of concerns
him.
D. Pedro. What's the matter?
D. John. Means your lordship to be married
to-morrow?
[To Claudio.
D. Pedro. You know, he does.
D. John. I know not that, when he knows
what I know.

Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, discover it.

D. John. You may think, I love you not: let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest: For my brother, I think, he holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill spent, and labour ill bestowed ! D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter?

D. John. I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long a talking of,) the lady is disloyal.

Claud. Who? Hero?

D. John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your
Hero, every man's Hero.
Claud. Disloyal?

D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamberwindow entered; even the night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, to-morrow wed her: but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.

Claud. May this be so?
D. Pedro. I will not think it.

D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know if you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly.

Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow; in the congregation, where I should wed, there will 1 shame her.

D. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. D. John. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned ! Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting!

2 Watch. Both which, master constable,Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours: 1 Dogb. You have; I knew it would be your pray you, watch about signior Leonato's door: answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why give for the wedding being there to-morrow, there God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for is a great coil to-night: Adieu, be vigilant, I your writing and reading, let that appear when beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern: This is your charge: You shall comprehend all vagroin men: you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's name.

Dogb. If you meet a thief you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true) man: and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty.

2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?

Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but I think, they that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your company.

Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner.

Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will: much more a man, who hath any honesty in him.

Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it 2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us?

Dogb. Why then, depart in peace, and let the shiki wake her with crying: for the ewe that