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Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first.

Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs ; by this time our Sexton hath reform’d Signior Leonato of the matter; and, Mafters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall ferve, that I am an ass.

Verg. Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too.

SCENE V. Enter Leonato and Sexton.

Leon. Which is the villain ? let me fee his eyes, 6. That when I note another man like him, 66 I

may avoid him; which of these is he ?
Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me.
Leon. Art thou, art thou the flave, that with thy

Hast kill'd mine innocent child ?

Bora. Yea, even I alone.

Leon. No, not so, villain; thou bely'st thyself;
Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is filed, that had a hand in it.
I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death ;
Record it with your high and worthy deeds ;
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

Claud. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak : Chuse your revenge yourself ;
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my fin. Yet finn'd I not,
But in miftaking

Pedro. By my soul, nor I;
And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight,
That he'll injoin me to.

Leon. You cannot bid my daughter live again;
That were impossible; but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here
How innocent she dy'd; and if your love
Can labour aught in fad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And fing it to her bones; sing it to-night :
To-marrow morning come you to my
And since you could not be my fon-in-law,



Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copy of my child that's dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us ;
Give her the right you should have given her cousin,
And so dies my revenge.

Claud. O noble Sir!
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me.
I do embrace your offer ; and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.

Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming,
To-night I take my leave. This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong,
Hir’d to it by your brother.

Bora. No,, by my soul, she was not ;
Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me,
But always hath been juft and virtuous,
In any thing that I do know by her.

Dogb. Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass. I beseech you, let it be remember'd in his punishment; “ and also the watch heard them talk of

one Deformed. They say he wears a key in his ear, " and a lock hanging by it ;' and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath us'd so long, and

never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and “ will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you, examine “ him upon that point,

Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.

Dogb. Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you.

Leon. There's for thy pains.
Dogb. God save the foundation !

Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner ; and I thank thee..

Dogb. I leave an errant knave with your Worship, which I beseech your Worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your Worship; I wish your Worship well. God restore you to health : I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be with'd, God prohibit it. Come, neighbour.


Leon. Until to-morrow morning, Lords, farewel.

Ant. Farewel, my Lords; we look for you to-morrow.

Pedro. We will not fail.
Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero.
Leon. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk, with

How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE VI. Changes to Leonato's house.

Enter Benedick and Margaret. Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deferve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.

Marg. Will you then write me a fonnet in praise of my beauty?

Bene. În fo high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it ; for, in most comely truth, thou deserv eft it.

Nlarg. To have no man come over me? why shall I always keep above stairs ?

Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's inouth; it catches.

Harg. And your's as blunt as the fencer's fails, which hit, but hurt not.

Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers.

Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our


Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must


in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids.

Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs.

[Exit Margaret. Bene. And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of love that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deserve, -I mean, in finging; but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the firft employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quon

you well

dam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse; why, they were never so truly turn’d over and over, as my poor self, in love ; marry, I cannot sew it, in rhime ;' I have try'd'; I can find out no rhime to lady but baby, an innocent's rhime; for fcorn, horn, a hard rhime; for school, fool, a babbling rhime; very ominous endings; no, I was not born under a rhiming planet, for I cannot woo in festival terms.

SCENE VII. Enter Beatrice.
Sweet Beatrice, would'ft thou come when I call thee?"

Beat. Yea, Signior, and depart when you bid me.
Brne. O, stay but till then.
Beat. Then, is spoken ;, fare


and yet ere I


let me go with that I came for; which is, with knowing what hath pafs'd between you and Claudio.

Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss. thee.

Beat. Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; there's fore I will depart unkiss'd.

Bene. Thou hast-frighted the word out of its right sense, so forcible is thy wit; but, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward; and I pray thee, now tell me, for which of


parts didit thou first fall in love with me?

Beat. For them all together; which maintain’d, so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts


first suffer love for me? Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet ; I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will,

Beat. In spight of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart, if you spight it for my fake, I will spight it for your's; for I will never love-that which my friend hates.

Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

Beat. It appears not in this confession; there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself.

Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd s in the time of good neighbours ;” if a man do not:

widow weeps:

erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the

Beat. And how long is that, think you?

Bene. Question ?-why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum; therefore it is moft expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself; who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy. And now tell me, how doth


cousin ?
Beat. Very ill.
Bene. And how do you ?
Beat. Very ill too.

Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter Ursula.


Urf. Madam, you must come to your uncle ; yonder's. old coil at home; it is proved my Lady Hero bath been falsely accus'd; the Prince and Claudio mightily abus’d; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come prefently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior ?

Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be Bury'd in thy heart; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle.

[Exeunt. SCE NE

Changes to a church. Lister. Don Pedro, Claudio, and attendants with taperf:

Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?
Attend. It is, my Lord..

Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η.
Done to death by sanderous tongues

Was the Hero that bere lies :
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,

Gives her fame which never dies.,
$p the life that dy'd with shame,
lives in death with glorious fame..

Hang thou there upon the tomb
Praising her when I dumb..

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