that hath no beard is less than a man: and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the berrord,' and lead his apes into Hell.

LEON. Well, then, go you into Hell?

38

BEAT. No; but to the gate; and there will the Devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say Get you to Heaven, Beatrice, get you to Heaven; here's no place for you maids: so deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the Heavens !2 He shews me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.

ANT. [to HERO.] Well, Niece, I trust you will be rul'd
by your father.

BEAT. Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make
courtesy, and say Father, as it please you.
But yet

for all that, Cousin, let him be a handsome fellow,
or else make another courtesy, and say Father, as it
please me.

52

LEON. Well, Niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

BEAT. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, Uncle; I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEON. Daughter, remember what I told you if the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your

answer.

3

60

BEAT. The fault will be in the music, Cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time: if the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure full of state and ancientry; and then comes Repentance, and with

ACT II

Sc. I

ACT II

Sc. I

his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink apace into his grave.

LEON. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

BEAT. I have a good eye, Uncle: I can see a church by daylight.

LEON. The revellers are entering, Brother: make good

room.

79

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, Balthazar,
JOHN the Bastard, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA,
and others, maskers, with a drum.

D. PEDRO. Lady, will you walk about with your friend?
HERO. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say
nothing, I am your's for the walk; and especially when
I walk away.

D. PEDRO. With me in your company ?

HERO. I may say so, when I please.

D. PEDRO. And when please you to say so?

HERO. When I like your favour; for God defend the lute should be like the case!

D. PEDRO. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.

HERO. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd.

D. PEDRO.

Speak low, if you speak love.

[They pass.

91

BALTH. Well, I would you did like me.

MARG. So would not I for your own sake; for I have

many ill qualities.

BALTH. Which is one?

MARG. I say my prayers aloud.

BALTH. I love you the better: the hearers may cry Amen.
MARG. God match me with a good dancer!

BALTH. Amen!

MARG. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done! Answer, Clerk.

BALTH. No more words: the clerk is answer'd. [They pass.
URS. I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio.

ANT. At a word, I am not.

URS. I know you by the waggling of your head.

ANT. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

URS. You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were
the very man. Here's his dry hand up and down:
you are he, you are he.
ANT. At a word, I am not.

109

URS. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by
your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to,
mum, you are he: graces will appear, and there's
an end.
[They pass.

BEAT. Will you not tell me who told you so?

BENE. No; you shall pardon me.

BEAT. Nor will you not tell me who you are?

BENE. Not now.

BEAT. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good

wit out of the Hundred Merry Tales.

was Signior Benedick that said so.

BENE. What's he?

BEAT. I am sure you know him well enough.

BENE. Not I, believe me.

BEAT. Did he never make you laugh?

BENE. I pray you, what is he?

Well, this

120

BEAT. Why, he is the Prince's Jester: a very dull Fool; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit but in his villainy; for he both pleases men, and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and

beat him. I am sure he is in the Fleet:1 I would he had boarded me.

132

BENE. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say.

BEAT. Do, do; he'll but break a comparison or two on me: which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there's a partridge' wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [Music within.] We must follow the leaders.

BENE. In every good thing.

140

BEAT. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at
the next turning. [Dance. Exeunt all but DON JOHN,
BORACHIO, and CLAUDIO.
D. JOHN. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath

II: C

1 in the present company (?).

17.

ACT II

Sc. I

ACT II
Sc. I

withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains.

BORA. [to DON JOHN.] And that is Claudio: I know him
by his bearing.

D. JOHN [to CLAUDIO, masked.] Are not you Signior
Benedick?

CLAUD. You know me well; I am he.

150

D. JOHN. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamour'd on Hero. I pray you, dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it.

CLAUD. How know you he loves her?

D. JOHN. I heard him swear his affection.

BORA. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night.

D. JOHN. Come, let us to the banquet.

160

[Exeunt DON JOHN and BORACHIO.

CLAUD. Thus answer I in name of Benedick,

But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.

"Tis certain so; the Prince wooes for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things,

Save in the office and affairs of love:

Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;

Let every eye negotiate for itself,

And trust no agent. Beauty is a witch

Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.

This is an accident of hourly proof,

170

Which I mistrusted1 not.

Farewell, then, Hero!

Re-enter BENEDICK.

BENE. Count Claudio?

CLAUD. Yea; the same.

BENE. Come, will you go with me?

CLAUD. Whither?

BENE. Even to the next willow, about your own busi-
ness, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland
of? about your neck, like an usurer's chain? or under
your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear
it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.
CLAUD. I wish him joy of her.

1 suspected.

180

BENE. Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier: so
they sell bullocks. But did you think the Prince
would have serv'd you thus?
CLAUD. I pray you, leave me.

BENE. HO! now you strike like the blind man: 'twas
the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.
CLAUD. If it will not be, I'll leave you.
[exit.
BENE. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into
sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know
me, and not know me! The Prince's Fool! Ha!
It may be I go under that title because I am merry.
Yea; but so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not
so reputed: it is the base, though bitter, disposition
of Beatrice that puts the World into her person, and
so gives me out. Well, I'll be reveng❜d as I may.

Re-enter DON PEDRO.

D. PEDRO. Now, Signior, where's the Count? did you see him?

198

BENE. Troth, my Lord, I have play'd the part of Lady
Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge
in a warren: I told him, and I think I told him true,
that your Grace had got the good-will of this young
lady; and I offer'd him my company to a willow-tree,
either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to
bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipp'd.
D. PEDRO. To be whipp'd! What's his fault?
BENE. The flat transgression of a schoolboy: who, being
overjoy'd with finding a bird's-nest, shews it his com-
panion, and he steals it.

209

D. PEDRO. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression?
The transgression is in the stealer.

BENE. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made.
and the garland too; for the garland he might have
worn himself, and the rod he might have bestow'd on
you, who, as I take it, have stol'n his bird's-nest.

D. PEDRO. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.

BENE. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly.

219

ACT II

Sc. I