Beat. Yea, Signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. O, ftay but 'till then.'

Beat. Then, is fpoken; fare you well now; and yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath past 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 noifome; therefore I will depart unkift.

Bene. Thou haft frighted the word out of its right fenfe, fo 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 fubfcribe him a coward; and, I pray thee, now tell me, for which of my bad parts didft thou firft fall in love with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd fo politick a ftate of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you firft fuffer love for me?

Bene. Suffer love! a good epithet; I do fuffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

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

hates.

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

Beat. It appears not in this confeffion; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old inftance, 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 fhall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you?

Bene. Queftion?-why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rhewm; 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 my felf; fo much for praif

ing my felf, who, I my self 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.

Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in hafte.

Enter Urfula.

Urfu. 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 prefently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior?

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

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to a CHURCH.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers.

Claud.TS this the monument of Leonato?

Atten. It is, my

ford.

Done to death by flanderous tongues
Was the Hero, that here lyes:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,

Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life, that dy'd with shame,
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.

SONG.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Thofe that flew thy virgin knight;
For the which with fongs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, affift our moan;
Help us to figh 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.

Pedro. Good morrow, mafters, put your torches

out,

The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle, day,

Before the wheels of Phabus, round about

Dapples the drowfie east with spots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well.

Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his feveral way. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will

go.

Claud. And Hymen now with luckier iffue fpeed's, (28) Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt.

(28) And Hymen now with luckier Ifue fpeeds,

Than this, for whom we render'd up this Woe.] Claudio could not know, without being a Prophet, that this new-propos'd Match fhould have any luckier Event than That defign'd with Hero. Certainly, therefore, this fhould be a Wish in Claudio; and, to this End, the Poet might have wrote, Speed's; i. e. Speed us: and fo it becomes a Prayer to Hymen.

Dr. Thirlby.

VOL. I.

I i

SCENE

SCENE changes to Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Urfula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.

ID Í not tell you, fhe was innocent?

Friar. Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who

accus'd her,

Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in fome fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears,
In the true course of all the queftion.

Ant. Well, I am glad, that all things fort fo well.
Bene. And fo am I, being elfe 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 your felves, And when I fend for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To vifit 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 countenance.
Bene. Friar, I muft intreat your pains, I think.
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 favour.

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The fight whereof, I think, you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will? Bene. Your anfwer, Sir, is enigmatical;

But for my will, my will is, your good will
May ftand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
I' th' ftate of honourable marriage;

In which, good Friar, I fhall defire your help.

Leon.

Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar. And my help.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants.

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 the an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready. [Exit Antonio. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the matter,

That you have fuch a February-face,

So full of froft, of ftorm and cloudiness?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the favage bull: Tufh, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And fo all Europe fhall rejoice at thee;

As once Europa did at lufty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low,

And fome fuch ftrange bull leapt your father's cow; And got a calf, in that fame noble feat,

Much like to you; for you have just his bleat.

Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Urfula, mask'd.

Claud. For this I owe you; here come other recknings.

Which is the lady I muft feize upon?

Anto. This fame is fhe, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then fhe's mine; Sweet, let me fee your face.

Leon. No, that you fhall not, 'till you take her

hand

Before this Friar, and fwear to marry her.