D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds:

And then to Leonato's we will go.
Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds,
Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe!
[Exeuni.

SCENE IV.-A Room in LEONATO's House.
Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE, MARGA-
RET, URSULA, Friar FRANCIS, and HERO.
Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accus'd
her

Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To visit me.-You know your office, brother; You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give. her to young Claudio. [Exeunt ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of them. — Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: 'tis most

And got a calf in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
Claud. For this I owe you: here come other
reckonings.

Re-enter ANTONIO, with the ladies masked.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine.-Sweet, let me see your face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand

Before this friar, and swear 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!

Friar. All this amazement can I qualify:
Whenafter that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:
Meantime, let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar.-Which is Beatrice? Beat. [Unmasking.] I answer to that name. What is your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat.
Why, no; no more than reason.
Bene. Why, then, your uncle, and the prince, and
Claudio,

Have been deceived; for they swore you did.
Beat. Do not you love me?

For here's a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero.

And here's another, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen 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 not deny you;-but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consump tion.

Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth.

[Kissing her.

SCENE III.]

D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but, in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.

Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer;

which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends.-Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterward.

Bene. First, of my word; therefore play, music! -Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.

ACT I.

[edge,

SCENE I.-A Park, with a Palace in it. Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN. King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live register'd upon our brazen tombs, And then grace us in the disgrace of death; When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen And make us heirs of all eternity. Therefore, brave conquerors,--for so you are, That war against your own affections, And the huge army of the world's desires,Our late edict shall strongly stand in force: Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; Our court shall be a little Academe, Still and contemplative in living art. You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville, Have sworn for three years' term to live with me, My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes That are recorded in this schedule here:

Your oaths are past; and now subscribe your

names,

That his own hand may strike his honour down,
That violates the smallest branch herein:
If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.
Long. I am resolv'd; 'tis but a three years' fast
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.
Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified:
The grosser manner of these world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die;
With all these living in philosophy.

Biron. I can but say their protestation over;
So much, dear liege, I have already sworn,
That is, to live and study here three years.
But there are other strict observances:

As, not to see a woman in that term,―
Which I hope well is not enrolled there;
And one day in a week to touch no food,
And but one meal on every day beside,-
The which I hope is not enrolled there;
And then, to sleep but three hours in the night,
And not be seen to wink of all the day,
(When I was wont to think no harm all night,
And make a dark night too of half the day,)—
Which I hope well is not enrolled there:
O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,—
Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep!

King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these.
Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please
I only swore to study with your grace,
And stay here in your court for three years' space.
Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.
Biron. By yea and nay, Sir, then I swore in jest.—
What is the end of study? let me know.

King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know.

Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from

common sense?

King. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense. Biron. Come on, then; I will swear to study so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus, to study where I well may dine,

When I to feast expressly am forbid; Or study where to meet some mistress fine,

When mistresses from common sense are hid; Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, Study to break it, and not break my troth. If study's gain be thus, and this be so, Study knows that which yet it doth not know: Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.

King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, And train our intellects to vain delight.

[vain,

Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that most Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain: As, painfully to pore upon a book

To seek the light of truth: while truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:

Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile:
So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
Study me how to please the eye indeed,

By fixing it upon a fairer eye;
Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,

And give him light that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,

That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks:

Small have continual plodders ever won,

Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, That give a name to every fixèd star, Have no more profit of their shining nights

Than those that walk, and wot not what they

are.

Too much to know, is to know naught but fame;
And every godfather can give a name.

King. How well he's read, to reason against reading!

Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding!

Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding.

Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are a breeding.

Dum. How follows that?
Biron.
Dum. In reason nothing.
Biron.

Fit in his place and time.

Something, then, in rhyme. King. Biron is like an envious sneaping frost, That bites the first-born infants of the spring. Biron. Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast,

Before the birds have any cause to sing?

Why should I joy in an abortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But like of each thing that in season grows.
So you, to study now it is too late,
Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate.
King. Well, sit you out: go home, Biron: adieu!
Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay
with you:

And though I have for barbarism spoke more

Than for that angel knowledge you can say, Yet confident I'll keep to what I swore,

And bide the penance of each three years' day. Give me the paper,-let me read the same; And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name. King. How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!

Biron. [Reads.] "Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my court,"-Hath this been proclaim'd?

Long. Four days ago. Biron. Let's see the penalty. [Reads.] "On pain of losing her tongue.' Who devised this penalty? Long. Marry, that did I. Biron. Sweet lord, and why? Long. To fright them hence with that dread penalty. Biron. A dangerous law against gentility! [Reads.] "Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise."

This article, my liege, yourself must break;

For well you know, here comes in embassy

The French king's daughter with yourself to speak,—
A maid of grace and complete majesty,-
About surrender up of Aquitain

To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father:
Therefore this article is made in vain,

Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither. King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite Biron. So study evermore is overshot: [forgot. While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should; And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost. King. We must of force dispense with this deShe must lie here on mere necessity. [cree;

Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn
Three thousand times within this three years'
For every man with his affects is born, [space;

Not by might master'd, but by special grace:
If I break faith, this word shall speak for me,
I am forsworn on mere necessity.—

So to the laws at large I write my name:

[Subscribes.

And he that breaks them in the least degree Stands in attainder of eternal shame:

Suggestions are to others, as to me; But I believe, although I seem so loath, I am the last that will last keep his oath. But is there no quick recreation granted? King. Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is haunted

With a refined traveller of Spain;

A man in all the world's new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his brain;
One, whom the music of his own vain tongue
Doth ravish like enchanting harmony;

A man of complements, whom right and wrong
Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:
This child of fancy, that Armado hight,

For interim to our studies, shall relate,

In high-born words, the worth of many a knight
From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate.
How you delight, my lords, I know not, I;
But, I protest, I love to hear him lie,
And I will use him for my minstrelsy.

Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight.
Long. Costard the swain, and he, shall be our
And, so to study, three years is but short. [sport;

Enter DULL, with a letter, and COSTARD. Dull. Which is the duke's own person? Biron. This, fellow: what wouldst? Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's tharborough: but I would see his own person in flesh and blood.

Biron. This is he.