Almost the copy of my child that's dead,

And the alone is heir to both of us;

Give her the right you should have given her coufin,

And fo dies my revenge.

Claud. O noble fir!

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me:
I do embrace your offer; and difpofe

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 foul, fhe 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, fir, which, indeed, is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me afs; I beseech you, let it be remembred in his punishment; and also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they fay, 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 fo long, and never pay'd, that now men grow hardhearted, and will lend nothing for god's fake. 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 fave the foundation!

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

thee.

Dogb. I leave an errant knave with your worship, which I befeech 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 ; Sff

VOL. I.

and

and if a merry meeting may be wifh'd, god prohibit it! Come, neighbour. [Exeunt.

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 Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

[Exeunt feverally.

Bene.

"PR

SCENE VI.

Leonato's house.

Enter Benedick, and Margaret.

RAY thee, fweet 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. In fo high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in moft comely truth, thou deservest it.

Marg. To have no man come over me? why, fhall I always keep above 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 moft manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and fo, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers. Marg. Give us the fwords, we have bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put 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. [fings.] The god of love that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deferve, I mean, in finging; but in loving, Leander the good fwimmer,

Troilus

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 verfe, why, they were never fo truly turn'd over and over, as my poor felf, in love: marry, I cannot fhow it in rhyme; I have try'd; I can find out no rhyme to lady, but baby, an innocent rhyme; for fcorn, horn, a hard rhyme; for School, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, for I cannot woo in festival

terms.

SCENE VII.

Enter Beatrice.

Sweet Beatrice, would'ft thou come when I call thee?
Beat. Yea, fignior, and depart when you bid me.
Bene. O, ftay but 'till then!

Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now; and yet, ere İ go, 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 kifs thee.

Beat. Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkifs'd. Bene. Thou haft frighted the word out of its right sense, so forcible is thy wit; but I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergeos my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will fubfcribe 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 all together, which maintain'd so politick 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 fuffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

Beat. In fpite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart! if you fpite it for my fake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates.

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

Sff 2

Beat.

Beat. It appears not in that confeffion; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself.

Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you?

Bene. Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum: therefore it is most expedient for the wife, if don worm (his confcience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself: fo much for praifing myself; who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy; and now tell me, how doth your coufin?

Beat. Very ill.

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

Enter Urfula.

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

Urf. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved my lady Hero hath been falfely 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 presently? Beat. Will you go hear this news, fignior?

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

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers.

Claud. TS this the monument of Leonato?

Atten. It is, my lord.

Epitaph.

Epitaph.

Done to death by flanderous tongues,
Was the Hero that here lies:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life that dy'd with fhame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praifing her when I am dumb.

Claud. Now, mufick, found, and fing your folemn hymn.

Song.

Pardon, goddess of the night,
Thofe that flew thy virgin knight;
For the which with fongs of wo,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, thou affift our moan,
Help us thou to figh and groan
Heavily, heavily.

Graves, o, yawn, and yield your dead!
Until death be uttered

Heavily, heavily!

Claud. Now unto thy bones good night! Yearly will I do this rite.

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 gray.

Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well.
Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way.
Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;
And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud