Pedro. I will but teach them to fing, and restore them

to the owner.

Bene. If their finging anfwer your faying, by my faith, you say honestly.

Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her, she is much wrong'd by you.

t

Bene. O, the mifus'd me past the endurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very vifor began to affume life and fcold with her: She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince's jefter; and that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jeft upon jeft, with fuch impoffible conveyance, upon me, that I ftood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me: She speaks poniards, and every word ftabs : if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, fhe would infect to the north ftar. I would not marry her, though the were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he tranfgrefs'd: fhe would have made Hercules have turn'd fpit; yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her; you fhall find her the infernal "Até in good apparel. I would to God, fome scholar would conjure her: for, certainly, while fhe is here, a man may live as quiet in hell, as in a fanctuary and people fin upon purpose, because they would go thither: fo, indeed, all difquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her.

Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato, and Hero.

Pedro. Look, here fhe comes.

impoffible conveyance,]-the inconceivable fleight, and celerity of a juggler.

She speaks poniards,]

"I will speak daggers" HAMLET, A& III, S. 2. Ham. Ate]-the goddess of revenge.

Bene.

Bene. Will your grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the flightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devife to fend me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the fartheft inch of Afia; bring you the length of Prefter John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any embaffage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy: You have no employment for me?

W

Pedro. None, but to defire your good company.

Bene. O God, fir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my lady tongue.

X

Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have loft the heart of fignior Benedick.

Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I gave him ufe for it, a double heart for a fingle one: marry, once before he won it of me with falfe dice, therefore your grace may well fay, I have loft it.

Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.

Beat. So I would not he fhould do me, my lord, left I fhould prove the mother of fools. I have brought count Claudio, whom you fent me to seek.

Pedro. Why, how now, count? wherefore are you fad? Claud. Not fad, my lord.

Pedro. How then? Sick?
Claud. Neither, my lord,

Beat. The count is neither fad, nor fick, nor merry, nor well but civil, count; civil as an orange, and fomething of that jealous complexion.

Pedro. I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though, I'll be fworn, if he be fo, his conceit is falfe.

W

man.

y

harpy]-a fabulous bird, with long claws, and the face of a wo

this lady tongue.

your blazon to be true;]-you describe him in proper terms.

Here,

Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained name the day of marriage, and God give.thee joy!

Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace fay Amen to it!

Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue.

Claud. Silence is the perfecteft herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could fay how much.-Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and doat upon the exchange.

Beat. Speak, coufin; or, if you cannot, ftop his mouth with a kifs, and let him not speak neither.

Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy fide of care:-My coufin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.

Claud. And fo fhe doth, coufin.

Beat. Good lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am fun-burn'd; I may fit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho! for a husband.

Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting: Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

Pedro. Will you have me, lady?

Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days; your grace is too coftly to wear every day: -But, I beseech your grace, pardon me; I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter.

2 Thus goes every one to the world]-to fettle in it; gets married. a fun-burn'd;]-too homely to do any execution among the men.

Pedro.

Pedro. Your filence moft offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.

Beat. No, fure, my lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a ftar danc'd, and under that I was born.-Coufins, God give you joy.

Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle.-By your grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrice. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: fhe is never fad, but when she fleeps; and not ever fad then; for I have heard my daughter fay, fhe hath often dream'd of unhappiness, and wak'd herself with laughing.

Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.

Leon. O, by no means; fhe mocks all her wooers out of fuit,

Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.

Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week marry'd, they would talk themfelves mad.

Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? Claud. To-morrow, my lord: Time goes on crutches, till love have all his rites.

Leon. Not till monday, my dear fon, which is hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief too, to have all things anfwer my mind.

Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us: I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring fignior Benedick, and the lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one b of unhappiness,]-fome unlucky prank.

into a mountain of affection,]—to inspire them with a violent affection for each other.

with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not to fashion it, if you three will but minifter fuch affiftance as I fhall give you direction.

Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it coft me ten nights' watchings.

Claud. And I, my lord.

Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero?

Hero. I will do any modeft office, my lord, to help my coufin to a good husband.

Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know thus far I can praise him; he is of a noble strain, of approv'd valour, and confirm'd honefty. I will teach you how to humour your coufin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick:-and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in despight of his quick wit and his queafy ftomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Another Apartment in Leonato's Houfe.

Enter Don John and Borachio.

John. It is fo; the count Claudio fhall marry the daughter of Leonato.

Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can crofs it.

John. Any bar, any crofs, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am fick in difpleasure to him; and whatfoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canft thou cross this marriage?

* ftrain,]-descent.

Bora.