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Why had I not, with charitable hand,
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates;
Who smirched thus, and mired with infamy,
I might have said, No part of it is mine,
This shame derives itself from unknown

loins?

But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on; mine so much,
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her: why, she-Oh! she is fallen
Into a pit of ink! that the wide sea

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again;
And salt too little, which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh !

Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient;

For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to say.

Beat. Oh! on my soul, my cousin is belied! Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?

Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night,

I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! Oh! that is stronger made,

Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron ! Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie? Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foul

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Friar. Hear me a little ;

For I have only been silent so long,
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady: I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions start
Into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth:-Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading, nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenour of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,

If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

Leon. Friar, it cannot be :

Thou seest, that all the grace that she

hath

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Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
Friar. Pause a while,

And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead;
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed:
Maintain a mourning ostentation;
And on your family's old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.

Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do?

Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf

Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that, dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd,
Of every bearer: For it so falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and list,
Why, then we rack the value; then we find
The virtue, that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours:-So will it fare with Clan-
dio :

When he shall bear she died upon his wordsy
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination;

And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell'd in more precious babit,
More moving-delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soal,
Than when she liv'd indeed :—then shall be
mourn,

(If ever love had interest in his liver,)
And wish he had not so accused her;
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but saccess
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell'd false,
The supposition of the lady's death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
(As best befits her wounded reputation,)
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you:
Aud though, you know, my inwardness and
9
love

Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly, as your soul
Should with your body.

Leon. Being that I flow in grief,
The smallest twine may lead me.

Friar. 'Tis well consented: presently away: For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.

Come, lady, die to live: this wedding day, Perhaps, is but prolong'd: have patience, and endure.

[Exeunt FRIAR, HERO, and LEONATO. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all th while?

Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that.

Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wrong'd.

Beat. Ah! bow much might the man deserve of me, that would right her!

Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?

Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man do it?

Beat. It is a man's office, but not your's. Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you; Is not that strange?

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Beat. As strange as the thing I know not:
It were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing
so well as you but believe me not; and yet
I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing:
-I am sorry for my cousin.

Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.
Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it.

Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you.

Beat. Will you not eat your word?

Sexton. Which be the malefactors?
Dogb. Marry, that am I and my partner.
Verg. Nay, that's certain; we have the exhi-
bition to examine.

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master constable.

Dogb. Yea, marry, let them come before me.What is your name, friend?

Bora. Boracbio.

Dogb. Pray write down-Borachio.—Yours,

Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to sirrah ? it: I protest, I love thee.

Beat. Why then, God forgive me!
Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice ?
Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour;

I was about to protest, I loved you.
Bene. And do it with all thy heart.

Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that noue is left to protest.

Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Beat. Kill Claudio.

Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.
Beat. You kill me to deny it: Farewell.
Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

Beat. I am gone, though I am here ;-There is no love in you :-Nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice,

Beat. In faith, I will go.

Bene. We'll be friends first.

Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy.

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?

Con. I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade.

Dogb. Write down-master gentleman Conrade.-Masters, do you serve God?

Con. Bora. Yea, Sir, we hope.

Dogb. Write down-that they hope they serve God and write God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains!--Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so sbortly. How answer you for yourselves ?

Con. Marry, Sir, we say we are none.

Dogb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about with him.-Come you hither, sirrah; a word in your ear, Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.

Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. Dogb. Well, stand aside.-'Fore God, they are both in a tale: Have you writ down-that they are none?

Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way examine; you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.

Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishon-to oured my kinswoman ?-Oh! that I were a man! -What! bear her in hand until they come to take bands; and then with public accusation, ancovered slander, unmitigated rancour,-O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market place.

Bene. Hear me, Beatrice ;

Dogb. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way :Let the watch come forth :-Masters, 1 charge you, in the prince's name, accuse these men.

1 Watch. This man said, Sir, that Don John, the prince's brother, was a villain. Dogb. Write down-prince John a villain :

Beat. Talk with a man out at a window ?--a Why this is flat perjury, to call a prince's broproper saying!

Bene. Nay but, Beatrice;

Beat. Sweet Hero !-she is wronged, she is

slandered, she is undone.

Bene, Beat

Surely, a

a

Beat. Princes, and counties! + princely testimony, a goodly count-confect; sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it :-I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice: By this hand, I love thee.

Brat. Use it for my love some other way than Ewearing by it.

ther-villain.

Bora. Master constable,

Dogh. Pray thee, fellow, peace; I do not like thy look, I promise thee.

Sexton. What heard you him say else?

2 Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully.

Dogb. Flat burglary, as ever was committed.
Verg. Yea, by the mass, that it is.
Sexton. What else, fellow ?

1 Watch. And that count Claudie did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her.

Dogh. O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this. Sexton. What else?

2 Watch. This is all.

Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly

Bene. Think you in your soul the count Clau-stolen away; Hero was in this manner accused, dio bath wronged Hero?

Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a

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in this very manner refused, and upon the grief
of this, suddenly died.-Master constable, let
these men be bound, and brought to Leonato's;
will go before, and show him their examina-
tion.
[Exit.

Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned.
Verg. Let them be in band.

Con. Off, coxcomb!

Dogb. God's my life! where's the sexton? let him write down-the prince's officer, coxcomb.-Come, bind them--Thou naughty varlet !

Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place ? Dost thou not suspect my years 1-0 that he were here to write me down-an ass !-but, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass-No, thou villain, thou art full of piety,

• Bond.

Ant. If he could right himself with quarreling,
Some of us would lie low.
Claud. Who wrongs him?

Leon. Marry,

Thou, thou dost wrong me; thoa dissembler, thou:

as shall be proved upon thee by good witness.
I am a wise fellow; and, which is more, an of-
Acer; and, which is more, a householder; and,
which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any
is in Messina; and one, that knows the law, go
to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fel-
low that hath had losses; and one that hath two
gowns, and every thing bandsome about him:-1
Bring him away. O that I had been writ down
[Exeunt.

-an ass.

ACT V.

SCENE 1.-Before LEONATO's House.

Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO.

Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself;
And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief
Against yourself.

Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve give not me counsel;
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear,

But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,
And bid bim speak of patience;
Measure his woe the length and breadth

mine,

of

And let it answer every strain for strain;
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form i
If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard ;
Cry-sorrow, wag! and hem, when he should

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drunk

With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.

But there is no such man: For, brother, men
Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ach with air, and agony with words;
No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patieuce
To those that wring under the load of sorrow;
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency,
To be so moral, when he shall endure
The like himself: therefore give me no counsel
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

Ant. Therein do men from children nothing

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Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword,
fear thee not.

Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand,

If it should give your age such cause of fear:
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.
Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest

at me:

I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool;
As, under privilege of age, to brag
What I have done being young, or what would
Were I not old: Know, Claudio, to thy bead,
Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by ;
And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.

I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child;
Thy slander hath gone through and through her
And she lies buried with her ancestors: (beart,
Oh! in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of her's fram'd by thy villany.
Claud. My villany!

Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine I say.
D. Pedro. You say not right, old man.
Leon. My lord, my lord,

I'll prove it on his body, if he dare?
Despite his nice fence, and his active practice,*
His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood.

Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you.
Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast

kill'd my child;

If thou kill'st me, boy, thon sbalt kill a waN.

Aut. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed: But that's no matter; let him kill one first;— Win me and wear me,-let him answer me,— Come, follow me, boy; come, boy, follow ise; Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Leon. Brother,

Ant. Content yourself: God knows, I lex'd
my niece;

And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains;
That dare as well answer a man, indeed,
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue :
Boys, apes, braggards, Jacks, milksops -
Leon. Brother Antony,-

Ant. Hold you content: What, man! I know
them, yea,

And what they weigh, even to the utmost
scruple :

Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mongʼzing bors,
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, 231
Slander

Go antickly, and show outward hideous.ess,
And speak off half a dozen dangerous wor 18,
How they might hurt their enemies if they darst
And this is all.

Leon. But, brother Antony,-
Ant. Come, 'tis no matter;

Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.
D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake

your patience.

My heart is sorry for your daughter's death:
But, on my honour, she was charg'd with me-
thing

But what was true, and very full of proof.
Leon. My lord, my lord,-

D. Pedro. I will not hear you.
Leon. No?

Brother, away:-1 will be heard ;

Ant. And shall,

Or some of us will smart for it.

[Exeunt LEONATO and ANTONIO.

Enter BENEDICK.

D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man we

D. Pedro, Nay, do not quarrel with us, good went to seek.

old man.

Admonition.

Claud. Now, signior! what news!

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Bene. Good day, my lord.

D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: You are almost come to part almost a fray.

Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.

D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother: What think'st thou ? Had we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young for them.

lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I
must discontinue your company: your brother,
the bastard, is fled from Messina: you have,
among you, killed a sweet and innocent lady:
For my lord Lack-beard, there, he and I shall
meet; and till then, peace be with him.
[Exit BENEDICK.

D. Pedro. He is in earnest.
Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I'll

Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true va-warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. lour. I came to seek you both.

Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away: Wilt thou use thy wit?

Bene. It is in my scabbard; Shall I draw it? D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? Claud. Never any did so, though very many bave been beside their wit.-I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to plea

sure us.

D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale-Art thou sick, or angry?

Claud. What! courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against mě :-I pray you, choose another subject.

Claud. Nay, then give him another staff; this last was broke cross.

D. Pedro. By this light he changes more and more; I think, he be angry indeed. Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.

Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear? Claud. God bless me from a challenge! Bene. You are a villain;-I jest not-I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare:-Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet Lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you: Let me hear from you.

Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

me

D. Pedro. What, a feast? a feast? Claud. Pfaith, I thank him; he hath bid to a calf's-head and a capon; the which if i do not carve most curiously, say, my knife's naught. -Shall I not und a woodcock too?

Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.

D. Pedro. P'il tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day: I said, thou hadst a tine wit; True, says she, a fine little one: No, said I, a great uit; Right, says she, a great ross one: Nay, said I, a good wit; Just, said sbe, it hurts nobody: Nay, said 1, the gentle man is wise; Certain, said she, a wise gentle man: Nay, said I, he hath the tongues: That I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue; there's tuo tongues. Thus did she, an hour together, transshape thy particular virtues; yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.

Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said, she cared not.

D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly: the old man's daughter told us all.

Claud. Ali, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.

D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage buil's horus on the sensible Benedick's head? Claud. Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the married man!

D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee?
Claud. Most sincerely.

D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!

Enter DOG BERRY, VERGES, and the WATCH,

with CONRADE and BORACHIO. Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.

D. Pedro. But, soft you, let be; pluck up, my heart, and be sad! Did he not say my brother was fled?

Dogb. Come, you, Sir; if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.

D. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men bound! Borachio, one!

Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord! D. Pearo. Officers, what offence have these men done?

Dogb. Marry, Sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths: secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things: and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.

D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their vifence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge.

Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited.

D. Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood: What's your offence?

Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no further to mine answer; do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light; who, in the night, over-heard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incensed + me to slander the lady Hero: how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garment; how you disgraced her, when you should marry her: my villany they have upon record; which I bad rather seal with iny death, than repeat over to my shame: the lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.

D. Pedro. Rans not this speech like iton through your blood?

Claud. I have drunk poison, whiles he utter'd it.

D. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this?

Bora. Yea, and paid the richly for the prac

tice of it

D. Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of And fled he is upon his villany. [treachery :Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy iniage doth appear

In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first.

Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs; by Bene. Fare you well, boy; you know my this time our Sextou bath reformed siggior 1. and; I will leave you now to your gossip-like Leonato of the matter: And wasters, do not forhanour; you break jests as braggarts do their get to specify, when time and place shall serve, blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. My that I am an ass.

1o give a challenge.

+ Invited.

• Serious.

+ lacitel.

Verg. Here, here comes master signior Leonato, and the Sexton too.

Re-enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, with the

Sexton.

Leon. Go, I discharge thee of toy 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.

Leon. Which is the villain? Let me see his God keep your worship: I wish your worship

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Mine innocent child?

Bora. Yea, even I alone.

Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beli'st thyself;

Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled, that had a band 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: Choose your revenge your-
self;

Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not,

But in mistaking.

D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I;

And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he'll enjoin me to.

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live,
That were impossible; but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here
How innocent she died: and, if your love
Can labour aught in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,

And sing it to her bones; sing it to-night :-
To-morrow morning come you to my house;
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew: my brother bath a daugh.

ter,

Almost the copy of my child that's dead, And she alone is heir to both of us;

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, neighbour.

[Exeunt DOG BERRY, 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 lewd • fellow. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-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 soubet in praise of my beauty?

Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that so 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 greybound's mouth, it catches.

Marg. And your's as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not.

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

Murg. Give us the swords, we have becklers of our own.

Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you mist

Give her the right you should have given her put in the pikes with a vice; and they are da

cousin,

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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;

gerous weapons for maids.

Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, ba, [Exit MARGARET.

I think, bath legs.

Bene. And therefore will come.

The god of love,

That sits above,

[Singing.]

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 qu dam carpet-mongers, whose names yet mua smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why,

Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to they were never so truly turned over and over as

me;

But always hath been just and virtuons,
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 bath used so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake: Pray you, examine bim upon that point.

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

Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thank ful and reverend youth and I praise God for you.

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

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my poor self, in love: Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhy ve to lady but baby, au innocent rhyme; for score, horn, a hard rhyme; for school, fool, a badbling rhymne; very omnions endings: No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. +

Enter BEATRICE.

Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I called thee?

Beat. Yea, siguior, and depart when you bid me.

Bene. Oh! 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 wil kiss thee.

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

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