weapons for maids.

Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me; But always hath been just 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 remembered 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 used so long, and never paid, that now men grow hardhearted, 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 arrant 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 wished, God prohibit it-Come, neighbor.

[Exeunt DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Watch. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. Ant. Farewell, my lords; we look for you to

morrow.

D. Pedro. We will not fail. Claud.

To-night I'll mourn with Hero. [Exeunt Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO. Leon. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with Margaret,

How her acquaintance grew with this lewds fellow. [Exeunt.

SCENE IL-Leonato's Garden.

Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting. Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.

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

Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for in most comely truth, thou deservest it.

Marg. To have no man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs?

Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches.

Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, 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

Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I

think, hath legs.

[Exit MARGARET.

Bene. And therefore will come.

[Singing.]

The god of love,

That sits above,

And knows me, and knows me,

How pitiful I deserve,

I mean, in singing: but in loving,-Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self, in love: Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhyme to lady but baby, an innocent rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; for school, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.

Enter BEATRICE.

Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?

Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.
Bene. O, stay but till then!

Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now :and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.

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

Beat. Foul words are but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his 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 my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?

Beat. For them altogether; which maintained 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 did you 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 spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; 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 lived in the time of good neighbors: if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings, and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you?

Bene. Question?-Why, an hour in clamor, and a quarter in rheum: Therefore it is most 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 your 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.

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home: it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; and don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes, and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt.

/SCENE III.-The Inside of a Church. Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and Attendants, with music and tapers.

Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?
Atten. It is, my lord.

Claud. [Reads from a scroll.]

Done to death by slanderous tongues, Was the Hero that here lies: Death in guerdon' of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies: So the life, that died with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, [Affixing it. Praising her when I am dumb.— Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.

SONG.

Pardon, goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight,
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily :

Graves yawn, and yield your dead,
Till death be uttered,

Heavily, heavily.

Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night!

Yearly will I do this rite.

D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your torches out:

The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about

Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way.

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! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV-A Room in Leonato's House. Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE, URSULA, Friar, and HERO. Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?

Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who ac cus'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 promised 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 coun

tenance.

Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, tnink. 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 favor. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: "Tis

most true.

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from

me,

From Claudio and the prince: But what's you:

will?

Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: But, for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd In the estate of honorable marriage;— In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. Leon. My heart is with your liking. Friar. And my help. Here comes the prince, and Claudio.

Enter Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO, with Attendants. D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince: good morrow, Claudio;

We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?
Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiop.
Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar
ready.
[Exit ANTONIO.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: Why,
what's the matter,

That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness!

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull:-
Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;
And some such strange bull leap'd your father's

Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar; I am your husband, if you like of me. Hero. And when I lived I was your other wife; [Unmasking. And when you loved, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero? Hero.

Nothing certainer: One Hero died defam'd; but I do live, And, surely as I live, I am a maid.

D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.

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

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

Bene. Do not you love me?
Beat.
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 you not love me?
Bene.
No, no more than reason.
Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula,!
Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did.
Bene. They swore that you were almost sick
for me.

Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.

Bene. "Tis no such matter:-Then you do not love me?

Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.

Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her;

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

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 consumption.

Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.

[Kissing her. 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 humor: 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 propose 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 might lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. Bene. First, o'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.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,

And brought with armed men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow; IT devise thee brave punishments for him.-Strike up, pipers. [Dance.--Exeunt.

• Because.

The. Thanks, good Egeus: What's the news with thee?

Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia.Stand forth, Demetrius;-My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her :Stand forth, Lysander;-and, my gracious duke, This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child: Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchang'd love-tokens with my child: Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gauds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats; messengers Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth: With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's

heart;

Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness:-And, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,

I beg the ancient privilege of Athens;
As she is mine, I may dispose of her:
Which shall be either to this gentleman,
Or to her death; according to our law,
Immediately provided in that case.

The. What say you, Hermia? be advised, fair
maid:

To you your father should be as a god;