they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have ve-To-morrow morning come you to my house; rified unjust things! and, to conclude, they are And since you could not be my son-in-law, lying knaves.

D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge? Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited.

D. Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood: What's your offence?

Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter
Almost the copy of my child that's dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us;
Give her the right you should have given her

cousin :

And so dies my revenge.
Claud.

O noble sir,
Your over kindness doth wring tears from met
I do embrace your offer; and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.
Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your
coming;

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 me;

Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no further to
mine answer; do you hear me, and let this count
kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes;
what your wisdoms could not discover, these
shallow fools have brought to light; who, in the
night, overheard me confessing to this man, how
Don John, your brother, incensed me to slander
the lady Hero: how you were brought into the But always hath been just and virtuous,
orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's In any thing that I do know by her.
garments; how you disgraced her, when you
should marry her: my villany they have upon
record: which I had rather seal with my death,
than repeat over to my shame: the lady is dead
upon mine and my master's false accusation;
and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a
villain.

D. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through
your blood?

Claud. I have drunk poison, whiles he utter'd it.
D. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this?
Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice

of it.

D. Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery:

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 lend 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.

And fled he is upon this villany.
Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth ap- Leon. There's for thy pains.
Dogb. God save the foundation.

pear

In the rare semblance that I loved it first.
Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this
time our sexton hath reformed signior Leonato
of the matter: And, masters, do not forget to
specify, when time and place shall serve, that I

am an ass.

Verg. Here, here comes master signior Leonato and the Sexton too.

I

Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and thank thee.

Dogb. I leave an errant 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 wishGod prohibit it-Come, neighbour.

[Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, fare well.

Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, with the Sexton.ed,
Leon. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes;
That when I note another man like him,
I may avoid him: which of these is he?"

Bora. If you would know your wronger, look

on me.

Leon. Art thou the slave, that with thy breath hast kill'd

Mine innocent child?

Bora.

Yea, even I alone.

Leon. No, not so, villain; thou bely'st thyself;
Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled, that had a hand in it :-
I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death:
Record it with your high and worthy deeds;
"Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
Claud. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak: Choose your revenge yourself;
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not
But in mistaking.

D. Pedro.

By my soul, nor 1;

And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight

That he'll enjoin me to.

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live,
That were impossible; but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here

How innocent she died: and, if your love
Can labour aught in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And Fing it to her bones; sing it to-night-

Ant. Farewell, my lords: we look for you to

morrow.

D. Pedro. We will not fail.
Claud.

To-night I'll mourn with Hero. [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio. Leon. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with Margaret,

How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fel[Exeunt.

low.

SCENE 11. 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 always keep below 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.

The god of love,

[Singing.

That sits above, And knows me, and knows me, How pitiful I deserve,I mean, in singing; but in loving,-Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, 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 under 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 altogether: 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, 1 think; alas! poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for 1 will never love that which my friend hates.

Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: ther 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 filed 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
[Exeunt.
go with thee to thy uncle's.
SCENE III. The Inside of a Church.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants, with
Musick 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
Was the Hero that here lies:
Death in guerdon of her wrongs

Gives her fame which never dies:
So the life, that died with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.

Hang thou there upon the tomb, [affixing it.
Praising her when I am dumb.-

Now, musick, sound, and sing your solemn
hymn.

SONG.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of wo,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh 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 rite.

D. 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 drowsy east with spots of gray :
Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well.
Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his seve-
ral way.

D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other
weeds;

And then to Leonato's we will go.
Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier issue
speeds,

Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peace-Than this, for whom we render'd up this wo! ably.

[Exeunt. Beat. It appears not in this confession; there's SCENE IV. A Room in Leonato's House. not one wise man among twenty that will praise Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice,

himself.

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 shall 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 conscience, 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?
Beat. Very ill too.

Ursula, Friar, and Hero."

Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who ac-
cus'd her

Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, us it appears
In the true course of all the question.
Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so
well.

Bene. And so am 1, 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 1
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.

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from me,

From Claudio, and the prince: But what's your
will ?

Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:
But, for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined
In the estate of honourable marriage ;-
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar.
And my help.
Here comes the prince, and Claudio.
Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio, with Attendants.
D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly.
Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow,
Claudio,

We here attend you; are you yet determined
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter 7
Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar
ready,
[Erit Antonio.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: Why,
what's the matter,

That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and clondiness?
Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage
bull:-

Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with
gold,

And all Europa shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low:
And some such strange bull leap'd your father's
Cow,

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.

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take

her hand

Mean time, 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 7
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 1

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 recompense.
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,
Fashioned 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 cwn 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.

D Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the mar.
ried 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 propose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for thing, and this is my conclusion-For thy part, what I have said against it; for man is a giddy 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'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, musick.-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 a Messenger.

Mess. 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'l
devise thee brave punishments for him-Strike.
up, pipers.
[Dance. Exeunt.

HERMIA, Daughter of Egeus, in love with Other Fairies attending their King and Queen. Lysander.

Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta.

SCENE,--Athens, and a Wood not far from it.

(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,
For everlasting bond of fellowship,)
Upon that day either prepare to die,
For disobedience to your father's will;
Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would:
Or on Diana's altar to protest,

For aye, austerity and single life.

Dem. Relent, sweet Herinia ;-And, Lysander, yield

Thy crazed title to my certain right.

Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius;
Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.
Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my
love,

And what is mine my love shall render him;
And she is mine: and all my right of her
I do estate unto Demetrius.

Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well possess'd: my love is more than his;
My fortunes every way as fairly rank’d,
If not with vantage, as Demetrius';

And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia:
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
The. I must confess, that I have heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke
thereof:

But, being over full of self-affairs,

My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;
And come, Egeus; you shall go with me,

I have some private schooling for you both.-
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father's will;
Or else the law of Athens yields you up
(Which by no means we may extenuate)
To death, or to a vow of single life.-
Come, my Hippolyta; What cheer, my love?-
Demetrius, and Egeus, go along :
I must employ you in some business
Against our nuptial and confer with you
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
Ege. With duty and desire we follow you.
[Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus,
Demetrius, and train.

Lys. How now, my love! Why is your cheek
so pale?

How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike, for want of rain; which I could well

I have a widow aunt, a dowager

Of great revenue, and she hath no child:
From Athens is her house remote seven leagues;
And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue ns: If thon lov'st me then,
Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
And in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Helena,
To do observance to a morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.

Her.
My good Lysander!
I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow;
By his best arrow with the golden head;
By the simplicity of Venus' doves;
By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves;
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage
queen,

When the false Trojan under sail was seen;
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke-
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
Lys. Keep promise, love: Look, here comes
Helena.

eye,

My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet
melody.

Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest I'll give to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look; and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.
Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my
smiles such skill!

Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
Hel. 0, that my prayers could such affection
move!

Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
Hel. None, but your beauty; 'Would that fault
were mine!

Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my
face:

That he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell!

Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes.
Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth:
But, either it was different in blood;
Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd too low! Lysander and myself will fly this place.-
Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years;
Before the time I'did Lysander see,
Her. O spite! too old to be engaged to young! Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me:
Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends:0 then, what graces in my love do dwell,
Her. O hell! to choose love by another's eye!
Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it;
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say,-Behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
So quick bright things come to confusion.
Her. If then true lovers have been ever
It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross;

Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass
(A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,)
Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal.
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
cross'd,There my Lysander and myself shall meet :

As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and
sighs,

Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
Lys. A good persuasion: therefore, hear me,
Hermia,

And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thon for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, Lysander; we must starve our sight
From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight.
[Erit Hermia.

Lys. I will, my Hermia.-Helena, adieu: