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that hath no beard is less than a man: and he that is ACT II more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less Sc. I than a man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the berrord, and lead his
apes into Hell.
LEON. Well, then, go you into Hell ?
meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head,
as merry as the day is long. Ant. [to HERO.] Well, Niece, I trust you will be ruld
by your father. BEAT. Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make
courtesy, and say Father, as it please you. for all that, Cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say Father, as it please me. LEON. Well, Niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with
a husband. BEAT. Not till God make men of some other metal than
earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd with a piece of valiant dust ? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl ? No, Uncle; I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren;
and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEON. Daughter, remember what I told you : if the
Prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your
BEAT. The fault will be in the music, Cousin, if you be
not woo'd in good time: if the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, Hero : wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace:5 the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure full of state and ancientry; and then comes Repentance, and with
his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster,
till he sink apace into his grave. LEON. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. BEAT. I have a good eye, Uncle: I can see a church by
daylight. Leon. The revellers are entering, Brother: make good
Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHAZAR,
John the Bastard, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA,
and others, maskers, with a drum. D. PEDRO. Lady, will you walk about with your friend? HERO. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say
nothing, I am your's for the walk; and especially when
I walk away.
lute should be like the case !
Speak low, if you speak loye.
[They pass. Balth. Well, I would
did like me.
many ill qualities.
dance is done! Answer, Clerk.
pray you, what
URs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were ACT II
the very man. Here's his dry hand up and down: Sc. I
you are he, you are he. ANT. At a word, I am not. URS. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by
your excellent wit ? can virtue hide itself? Go to,
wit out of the Hundred Merry Tales. Well, this
was Signior Benedick that said so.
what is he?
only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit but in his villainy; for he both pleases men, and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him. I am sure he is in the Fleet:1 I would he
had boarded me. BENE. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what
you say BEAT. Do, do; he'll but break a comparison or two on
me: which, peradventure, not mark’d, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there's a partridge' wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [Music within.] We must follow the
BORACHIO, and Claudio.
1 in the present company (?).
withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The
ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. BORA. [to Don John.] And that is Claudio: I know him
by his bearing
love: he is enamour'd on Hero. I pray you, dissuade
do the part of an honest man in it. CLAUD. How know you he loves her?
[Exeunt Don John and BORACHIO. CLAUD. Thus answer I in name of Benedick,
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.
ness, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland
it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. Claud. I wish him joy of her.
BENE. Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier : so
they sell bullocks. But did you think the Prince
would have serv'd you thus ? CLAUD. I pray you, leave me. BENE. Ho! now you strike like the blind man: 'twas
the boy that stole your meat, and you 'll beat the post. CLAUD. If it will not be, I 'll leave you.
[exit. BENE. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into
sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The Prince's Fool ! Ha! It may be I
under that title because I am merry. Yea; but so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so reputed: it is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the World into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be reveng'd as I may.
Re-enter Don PEDRO.
Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren: I told him, and I think I told him true, that your Grace had got the good-will of this young lady; and I offer'd him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to
bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipp'd. D. PEDRO. To be whipp'd! What 's his fault ? BENE. The flat transgression of a schoolboy: who, being
overjoy'd with finding a bird's-nest, shews it his com
panion, and he steals it.
The transgression is in the stealer.
and the garland too; for the garland he might have
you, who, as I take it, have stol’n his bird's-nest. D. PEDRO. I will but teach them to sing, and restore
them to the owner. BENE. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith,
you say honestly.