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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 mufick any more than once.

Pedro. It is the witnefs ftill of excellency,
To put a ftrange face on his own perfection;
I pray thee, fing; and let me woo no more.
Balth. Becaufe 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 fwear, 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, thefe are very crotchets that he speaks, Note, notes, forfooth, and noting.

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

The SON G.

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

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

Pedro.

Pedro. By my troth, a good Song.

lord.

Balth. And an ill finger, my Pedro. Ha, no; no, faith; thou fing'ft 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 mifchief: I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

Pedro. Yea, marry, doft thou hear, Balthazar ? I pray thee, get us fome excellent mufick; 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 fo: 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

stalk on, stalk on, the fowl fits. I did never think, that lady would have loved any

man.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that the fhould fo doat on Signior Benedick, whom the hath in all outward behaviours feem'd ever to abhor.

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

[Afide Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that the loves him with an inraged affection, it is paft the infinite of thought.

Pedro. May be, fhe doth but counterfeit.

Claud. Faith, like enough.

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

covers it.

Pedro. Why, what effects of paffion fhews fhe?

3

Claud. Bait the hook well, this fifh 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 fpirit had been invincible against all affaults of affection.

Leon. I would have fworn, it had, my lord; efpecially against Benedick.

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

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

Leon. No, and fwears the never will; that's her tor

ment.

Claud. 'Tis true, indeed, fo your daughter fays: fhall I, fays fhe, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him?

Leon. This fays fhe now, when she is beginning to write to him; for fhe'll be up twenty times a night, and there will fhe fit in her fmock, 'till fhe have writ a fheet of paper; my daughter tells us all.

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

Leon. O, when the had writ it, and was reading it over, fhe found Benedick and Beatrice between the theet.

Claud. That

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

(9) O, he tore the Letter into a thousand half-pence ;] i. e. into a thousand pieces of the fame bignefs. This is farther explain'd by a Paffage 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, faithings.

Claud

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

Leon. She doth, indeed, my daughter fays fo; and the ecftafie hath fo much overborn her, that my daughter. is fometime afraid, fhe will do desperate outrage to her felf; 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 fhould, it were an Alms to hang him; The's an excellent fweet lady, and (out of all fufpicion) fhe is virtuous.

Claud. And the is exceeding wife.

Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick.

Leon. O my lord, wifdom and blood combating in fo tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory; I am forry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.

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

Léon. Were it good, think you?

Claud. Hero thinks, furely fhe will die; for the fays, fhe will die if he love her not, and fhe will die ere the make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accuftom'd crofsnefs.

Pedro. She doth well; if the fhould make tender of her love, 'tis very poffible, he'll fcorn 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, fhew fome fparks that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

Pedro, As Hector, I affure you; and in the managing

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

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

Pedro. And fo will he do, for the man doth fear God, how foever it seems not in him, by fome large jests he will make. Well, I am forry for your Neice: fhall 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 impoffible, fhe may wear her heart out firft.

Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wifh he would modeftly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have fo 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 fame net fpread for her, and that muft your daughter and her gentlewomen carry; the fport will be, when they hold an opinion of one another's dotage, and no fuch 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 feems, her affections have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited: I hear, how I am cenfur'd; they fay, I will bear my felf proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they lay too, that he will rather die than give any fign of affection. I did never think to marrymuft not seem proud- happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending: they

I

fay,

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