:

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

Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that Song again
Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To flander musick any more than once.

Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection;
I pray thee, fing; and let me woo no more.
Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will fing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his fuit
To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes;
Yet will he swear, he loves.

Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come;
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.

Balth. Note this before my notes,
There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting.
Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks,
Note, notes, forsooth, and noting.

Bene. Now, divine air; now is his foul ravish'd! is it not strange, that sheeps guts should hale fouls out of mens bodies? well, a horn for my money, when all's done.

The SONG.

Sigh no more, ladies, figh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never:
Then figh not fo, but let them go,
And be you blith and bonny;
Converting all your founds of woe
Into hey nony, nony.

Sing no more ditties, fing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The frauds of men were ever so,
Since fummer was first leafy:
Then figh not fo, &c.

Y

Pedro.

Pedro. By my troth, a good Song.
Balth. And an ill finger, my lord.

Pedro. Ha, no; no, faith; thou sing'st well enough for a shift.

Bene. If he had been a dog, that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd 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.

Pedro. Yea, marry, 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 chamberwindow.

Balth. The best I can, my lord. [Exit Balthazar. Pedro. Do so: farewel. Come hither, Leonato; what was it you told me of to day, that your Neice Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick?

Claud. O, ay; fits. I did never think, that lady would have loved any

stalk on, stalk on, the fowl

man.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seem'd ever to abhor.

Béne. Is't possible, fits the wind in that corner ?

lord, I

Leon. By my troth, my lor

cannot

[Afide.

tell what to

think of it; but that she loves him with an inraged af

fection, it is past the infinite of thought.

Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit.

Claud. Faith, like enough.

Leon. O God! counterfeit ? there was never.counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as the dif

covers it.

Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shews she ?

Claud. Bait the hook well, this fish will bite. [Afide.: Leon. What effects, my lord? she will fit you, you

heard my daughter tell you how.

Claud. She did, indeed.

:

Pedro. How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I

B5

would

would have thought, her spirit had been invincible against all affaults of affection.

Leon. I would have sworn, it had, my lord; especi ally against Benedick.

Bene. [Afide.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, fure, hide himself in fuch reverence.

Claud. He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. [Afide. Pedro. Hath the made her affection known to Bene

dick?

Leon. No, and swears she never will; that's her tor

ment.

Claud. 'Tis true, indeed, so your daughter says: shall I, fays 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 fit in her smock, 'till she have writ a sheet of paper; my daughter tells us all.

Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.

Leon. O, - when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the Theet.

Claud. That

Leon. (9) O, the tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; rail'd at her self, that she should be so immodest, to write to one that, she knew, wou'd flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own Spirit, for I fhould flout him if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.

(9) O, she tore the Letter into a thousand half-pence;] i. e. into a thousand pieces of the same bigness. This is farther explain'd by a Passage in As you like it;

There were none principal; they were all like one another

as half-pence are.

In both places the Poet alludes to the old Silver Penny which had a Creafe running Cross-wife over it, so that it might be broke into two or four equal pieces, half pence, or fasthings.

Claud.

Claud. Then down upon her knees the falls, weeps, fobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; O fweet Benedick! God give me patience!

Leon. She doth, indeed, my daughter says so; and the ecstasie hath so much overborn her, that my daughter is sometime afraid, she will do desperate outrage to her self; it is very true.

Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew 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.

Pedro. If he should, it were an Alms to hang him; she's an excellent sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous.

Claud. And she is exceeding wife.

Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am sorry for her, as I have just. cause, being her uncle and her guardian.

Pedro. I would, she had bestow'd this dotage on me; I would have dafft all other respects, and made her half my self; I pray you, tell Benedick of it; and hear what he will fay.

Leon. Were it good, think you ?

Claud. Hero thinks, surely she will die; for she says, fhe will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustom'd crossness.

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.

Cland. He is a very proper man.

Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. Claud. 'Fore God, and, in my mind, very wife. Pedro. He doth, indeed, shew some sparks that are

like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

Pedro. As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing

of

of quarrels you may say he is wife; for either he avoids them with great difcretion, or undertakes them with a christian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

Pedro. And so will he do, for the man doth fear God, howfoever it seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am forry for your Neice: shall we go feek Benedick, and tell him of her love?

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

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

Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady.

Leon. My Lord, will you walk ? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Afide.

Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry; the sport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the Scene that I would fee, which will be meerly a Dumb Show; let us fend her to call him to dinner. [Afide.] [Exeunt.

Benedick advances from the Arbour.

1.

Bene. This can be no trick, the conference was fadly borne; they have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited: I hear, how I am censur'd; they say, I will bear my felf proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they lay too, that she will rather die than give any fign of affection. I did never think to marry I must not seem proud happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending: they

fay,