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Bora. Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. But see'st thou not, what a deformed thiet 15 this fashion is?

Watch. I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief these seven years; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name.

Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? Conr. No; 'twas the vane on the house. Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this Fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods, between fourteen and five-andthirty? sometime, tashioning them like Pharaoh's 2 soldiers in the reechy painting; sometime, like god Bel's priests in the old church-window; sometime, like the shaven Hercules in the smirch'd' worn-eaten tapestry, where his, cod-piece seems as massy as his club?

Cour. All this I see; and see, that the fashion) wears out more apparel than the man: But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?

Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commo dity, being taken up of these men's bills. Conr. A commodity in question, I warrant you Come, we'll obey you. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

An Apartment in Leonato's House.
Enter Hero, Margarei, and Ursula.
Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice,
20land desire her to rise.

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35

Bora. Not so neither: but know, that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewonan, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good-night-I tell this tale vilely: 40 -I should first tell thee, how the prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed, and possessed by my master DonJohn, saw afar off in the orehare this amiable encounter.

Urs. I will, lady,

Hero. And bid her come hither.

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Conr. And thought they, Margaret was Hero: 45 Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio: but the devil my ma-ter knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possess'd them, partly by the dark night, which di i deceive them but chielly by my villainy, which did confirm any 50 slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o'er night, and send her 55 home again without a husband.

1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, stand.

Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear'

this.

Marg. By my troth, it's not so good; and I warrant, your cousin will say so.

Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another; I'll wear none but this.

2 Watch. Call up the right master constable :We have here recovered the most dangerous piece 60

Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, faith. I saw the dutchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so.

Hero. O! that exceeds, they say.

Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of your's: Cloth of gold, and cuts, and lac'd with silver; set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a blueish tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, your's is worth ten on't.

is

Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart exceeding heavy!

Murg. Twill, be heavier soon, by the weight of a man.

Hero. Fie upon thee! art not asham'd?

Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, saving your reverence,— a husband? an bad thinking do not wrest true peaking, I'll offend nobody: Is there any harm in-the heavier for a husband? None, I think, an it be the right husband, and the right wife; otherwise, 'tis light, and not heavy: Ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes.

Enter Beatrice.
Hero. Good-morrow, coz.
Beat. Good-morrow, sweet Hero.

That is, unpractised in the ways of the world. i. e. painting discoloured by smoke. 3 Smirch'd is soil'd, obscured. Rabato, from the French rabat, signifies a neckband; a ruff.

Hero.

Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in the sick tune?

Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. Marg. Clap us into Light o' love'; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it.

Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels!then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns'.

Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that 10 with my heels.

Beat. "Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill:-hey ho!

Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk', there's no more sailing by the star.

Beat. What means the fool, trow? Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!

Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume.

SCENE V.

Another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh 5bour?

15

Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confi-
dence with you, that decerns you nearly.
Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see 'tis a busy
Itime with me.

Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir.
Verg Yes, in truth it is, sir.

Leon. What is it, my good friends?

Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little of the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest, as the skin between his brows'.

Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester 20than I.

Beat. I am stuff'd, cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuff'd! there's goodly 25 catching of cold.

Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have you profess'd apprehension?

Marg. Ever since you left it: Doth not my wit become me rarely?

Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap.-By my troth, I am sick.

Murg. Get you some of this distili'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral' in this Benedictus.

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35

Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no mo-
ral meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may 40
think, perchance, that I think you are in love;
nay, by'r Lady, I am not such a fool to think what
I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, in-
deed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart
out o' thinking, that you are in love, or that you 45
will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet
Benedick was such another, and now is he become
a man he swore he would never marry; and yet
now, in despight of his heart, he eats his meat
without grudging: and how may you be convert 50
ed, I know not; but, methinks, you look with
your eyes as other women do.

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
Marg. Not a false gallop.

Re-enter Ursula.

Urs. Madam, withdraw; the prince, the count, signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church. Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.

55

Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras", neighbour Verges.

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could tind in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me! ha!

Dogb. Yea, an 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis: for I hear as good exclamation on your worship, as of any man in the city; and, though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. Verg. And so am I.

Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, cxceptng your worship's presence, hath ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina.

Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking; as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out; God help us! it is a world to see!-Well said faith, neighbour Verges:-well, God's a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind:-An honest soul, i' faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but, God is to be worshipp'd: All men are not alike; alas, good neighbour!

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.

Dogb. Gifts that God gives.

Leon. I must leave you.

Dogb. One word, sir: our watch have, indeed, comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.

Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me; I am now in great haste, as may ap pear unto you.

Dogb. It shall be suffigance.

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you

[Excuni.50well.

An old dance tune so call'd. A quibble between barns and bairns.
Love, and turned a renegado to his religion.
A Spanish phrase, signifying, few words.

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i. e. some secret meaning.
Meaning, it is wonderful to see.

Enter

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Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, charge you, on your souls, to utter it.

Claud. Know you any, Hero?
Hero. None, my lord.

Friar. Know you any, count?

Leon. I dare make his answer, none.

Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may

do! what

Men daily do! not knowing what they do!

To witness simple virtue? Would not you swear,
All you that see her, that she were a maid,
20 By these exterior shews? But she is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious' bed:
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.

25

30

Leon. What do you mean, my lord?

Claud. Not to be marry'd, not knit my soul To an approved wanton.

Leon. Dear my lord,

If you in your own proof?,

Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity,

Claud. I know what you would

known her,

say; if I have

You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the forehand sin:
No, Leonato,

135I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to his sister, shew'd
Bashful sincerity and comely love.

40

Bene. How now! Interjections? Why, then some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he! [leave; 45 Claud. Stand thee by, friar:-Father, by your Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid, your daughter?

Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, 50 whose worth

May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank

fulness.

There, Leonato, take her back again;
Give not this rotten orange to your friend;
She's but the sign and semblance of her honour:
Behold, how like a maid she blushes here:
O, what authority and shew of truth
Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood, as modest evidence,

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50

Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy seeming! I will write against it:

You seem to me as Dian in her orb;
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals
That rage in savage-sensuality.
[wide?
Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so
Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?
Pedro. What should I speak?

I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common stale.
Leon. Are these things spoken,or do Ibut dream?
John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are
Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.
Hero. True, O God!

Claud. Leonato, stand I here?

[true.

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1 i. e. A lascivious bed. i. e. your own experiment or trial of her. i. e. Natural power.

Leon.

Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
Hero. O God defend me! how am I beset!-
What kind of catechizing call you this? [name.
Claud. To make you answer truly to your
Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
With any just reproach?

Claud. Marry, that can Hero;
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.
What man was he talk'd with you yesternight
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. [lord.
Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my
Pedro.Why,then youare no maiden.-Leonato,
I am sorry, you must hear; Upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count,
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window;
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal' villain,
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.

John. Fie, fie! they are

Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of;
There is not chastity enough in language, [lady,
Without offence, to utter them: Thus, pretty
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not, with charitable hand,
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates;
Who smeared thus, and mir'd with infamy,
5I might have said, No part of it is mine,
This shame derives itself from unknown loins?
But mine, and mine lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on; mine so much,
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her; why, she-O, she is fallen
Into a pit of ink! that the wide sea

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20

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again;
And salt too little, which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!

Isene. Sir, sir, be patient:

For my part, I am so attir d in wonder,
I know not what to say.

Bear, O, on my soul, my cousin is bely'd!
Bent. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. [made,
Leon. Confrin'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger
Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron!
Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie,
125 Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her; let her dic.
Friar. Hear me a little;

For I have only been silent so long,

And given way unto this course of fortune,
30 By noting of the lady: I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been,
If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity!
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.
Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for 35
Beat. Why, how now, cousin, wherefore sink
you down?
[Hero, swoons.

[me:

John. Come, let us go: these things come thus Smother her spirits up. [to light,

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[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio. 40 Bene. How doth the lady?

Beat. Dead, I think;-Help, uncle Hero! why, Hero!-uncle!-signior Benedick! -friar!

Leon. O fate! take not away thy heavy hand! 45 Death is the fairest cover for her shame,

That may be wish'd for.

Beat. How now, cousin Hero!
Friar. Have comfort, lady.

Leon. Dost thou look up?

Friar. Yea; Wherefore should she not? [thing
Leon. Wherefore? Why, dot. not every earthly
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood'?—
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:
For did I think, thou would'st not quickly die,
Thought I,thyspirits were trongerthanthy shames,
Myselt would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy lite. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that, at frugal nature's frame1?
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?

50

To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel witness bear away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,
To burn the error that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth:-Call me a fool;
I rust not my reading, nor my observation,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenor of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

Leon. Friar, it cannot be:

Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left,
Is, that she will not add to her damuation
A sin of perjury; she not denies it:
Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
That, which appears in proper nakedness 2.

Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?
bero. They know, that do accuse me; I know
If I know more of any man alive,
[none;
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy!-O my father,
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
55 At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight [ture,
Maintain'd the change of words with any crea-
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death."
Friar. There is some strange misprision in the
[nour;
60 Bene. Two of them have the very bent of ho-
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,

princes.

Meaning, the

1 Liberal here signifies, frank, free, open. 2 Meaning, the story which is too plainly discovered by her blushing. Frame here signifies, scheme, order, or disposition of things. highest degree.

The

The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.

[her,

Leon. I know not; If they speak but truth of
These bands shall tear her; if they wrong her ho-
The proudest of them shall well hear of it. [nour,
Time hath not yet so dry'd this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,

Nor fortune made such havock of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind,
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind,
Ability of means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them thoroughly,
Friar. Pause awhile,

And let my counsel sway you in this case,
Your daughter here the princes left for dead;
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed:
Maintain a mourning ostentation';
And on your family's old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto à burial.

[this do? Leon. What shall become of this? What will Friar. Marry, this well carry'd, shall on her behalt

Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that, dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd,
Of every hearer: For it so falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and løst,
Why, then we rack' the value; then we find
The virtue that possession would not shew us
Whiles it was ours:-So will it fare with Claudio;
When he shall hear she dy'd upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination;
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit,
More moving, delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,

[mourn,

5

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15

Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly, and justly, as your soul
Should with your body.

Leon. Being that I flow in grief,
The smallest twine may lead me.

Friar. 'Tis well consented; presently away: For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.

and endure.

Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day,
Perhaps, is but prolong'd; have patience,
[Exeunt.
Manent Benedick and Beatrice. [while?
Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this
Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Bene. I will not desire that.

Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wrong'd.

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve 20 of me, that would right her!

25

Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship?
Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.
Bene. May a man do it?

Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours.
Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as
you; Is not that strange?

Beat. As strange as the thing I know not: It were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie 30 not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing:-I am sorry for my cousin.

Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me.
Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it.

Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me; and 35I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word?

40

Bene. With no sauce that can be devis'd to it: I protest, I love thee.

Beat, Why then, God forgive me!

Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice?

Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I lov'd you.

Bene. And do it with all thy heart.

Beat. I love you with so much of my heart,

Than when she liv'd indeed:-Then shall he 45 that none is left to protest.

(If ever love had interest in his liver)
And wish he had not so accus'd her:

No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success

Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell'd false,
The supposition of the lady's death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her
(As best befits her wounded reputation)
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise
And though, you know, my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,

you:

1 Ostentation here signifies show or appearance, rack-rents.

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55

Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

Beat. Kill Claudio.

Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.

Beat. You kill me to deny it: Farewell.
Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

Beat. I am gone, though I am here;-There is no love in you:-nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice,

Beat. In faith, I will go.

Bene. We'll be friends first.

Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy.

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?

Beat. Is he not approved in the height a vil60 lain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my kinswoman?-O, that I were a man!-What,

2 That is, raise it to its utmost value, alluding to

bear

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