But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
I' th' state of honourable marriage,

In which, good Friar, I fhall defire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar. And my help.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with Attendants. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair affembly. Leon. Good morrow, Prince, good morrow, Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? Claud. I'll hold my mind, were fhe an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready.

[Exit Ant.

Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the

matter,

That you have fuch a February face,

So full of froft, of storm and cloudinefs?

Claud. I think he thinks upon the favage bull: Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And fo all Europe fhall rejoice at thee,

As once Europa did at lufty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull fove, Sir, had an amiable low,

And fome fuch ftrange bull leapt your father's cow,
And got a calf in that fame noble feat,

Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.

Enter Antonio with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and

Urfula, mask'd.

Claud. For this I owe you; here come other recknings.

Which is the Lady I muft feize upon?

Leon.

Leon. This fame is fhe, and I do give you her. Claud. Why then the's mine; fweet, let me fee your face. Leon. No, that you fhall not, 'till you take her hand Before this Friar, and fwear to marry her.

Claud. Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband if you like of me.

Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife.

[Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other husband.

Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer.

One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live;

And furely as I live I am a maid.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!

Leon. She dy'd, my Lord, but whiles her flander liv'd.
Friar. All this amazement can I qualifie.

When after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell you` largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time let wonder feem familiar,
And to the chappel let us prefently.

Bene. Soft and fair, Friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I anfwer to that name; what is your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat. Why, no; no more than reafon.

Bene. Why then your uncle and the Prince, and Claudio

Have been deceiv'd; for they did fwear you

Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no; no more than reason.

did.

Beat. Why then my coufin, Margaret and Urfula Are much deceiv'd; for they did fwear you did. Bene. They fwore you were almost sick for me. Bat. They fwore you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me? Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence. Leon. Come, coufin, I am fure you love the gentleman. Claud. And I'll be fworn upon't that he loves her,

8 thee

For

For here's a paper written in his hand,

A halting fonnet of his own pure brain,
Fafhion'd to Beatrice.

Hero. And here's another,

Writ in my coufin's hand, ftol'n 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 'now' deny you; but by this good day, I yield upon great perfuafion, and partly to fave your life; for as I was told, you were in a confumption.

Bene. Peace, I will ftop your mouth. [Kifles ber. Pedro. How doft thou, Benedick, the married man? Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: doft thou think I care for a fatyr, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he fhall wear nothing handsome about him; in brief, fince I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can fay against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have faid against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclufion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinfman, live unbruis'd, and love my coufin.

Claud. I had well hoped thou would'ft have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy fingle life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of question thou wilt be, if my coufin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends; let's have a dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene. First, o' my word; therefore play, mufick. Prince, thou art fad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn.

9 yet

Enter

Enter Messenger.

Me. My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Mefina.

Bene. Think not on him 'till to-morrow: I'll devife thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers. [Dance. [Exeunt omnes.

The End of the FIRST VOLUME.