earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered 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 in that kind, you you know your answer. Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed 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 his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by day-light. Leon. The revellers are entering; brother, make good room. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar; Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others, masked. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend? Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and, especially, when I walk away. Pedro. With me in your company? Hero. I may say so, when I please. Pedro. And when please you to say so? Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend, the lute should be like the case! Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatched. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. Balth. Well, I would did like me. you 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. 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 answered. Urs. I know you well enough; you are signior An tonio. 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 is his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he. Ant. At a word, I am not. 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 is an end. Beat. Will you not tell me who told Bene. No, you shall pardon me. you so so? Beat. Nor will you not tell me 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;—Well, this was signior Benedick that said so. Bene. What is 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? 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; I would he had boarded me. Bene. When I know the gentleman, I will tell him what you say. Beat. Do, do: he will but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not marked, or not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there is a partridge' wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. We must follow the leaders. [music within. Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. Exeunt all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio. John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing. John. Are not you signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well; I am he. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, difsuade 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? John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night. John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt John and Bora. But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.- 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: for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore, Hero! Re-enter Benedick. Bene. Count Claudio? Claud. Yea, the same. Bene. Come, will you go with me? Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, 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. Bene. Why, that is spoken like an honest drover; so they sell bullocks. But did you think, the prince would have served you thus? Claud. I pray you, leave me. [Exit. Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man; it was the boy that stole your meat, and you will beat the post. Claud. If it will not be, I will leave you. 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, the bitter disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I will be revenged as I may. |