conveyance, upon me, that I ftood like a man at a mark, with a whole army fhooting at me: She speaks poniards, and every word ftabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the north ftar. I would not marry her, though fhe were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgress'd: she would have made Hercules have turn'd spit; yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her; you shall find her the infernal Até in good apparel. I would to God, some scholar would conjure her; for, certainly, while fhe is here, a man may live as quiet in hell, as in a fanctuary; and people fin upon purpose, because they would go thither; fo, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her.

Re-enter CLAUDIO, and BEATRICE.

D. PEDRO. Look, here fhe comes.

BENE. Will your grace command me any fervice to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devife to fend me on ; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the fartheft inch of Afia; bring you the length of Prefter John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any embassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy: You have no employment for me?

D. PEDRO. None, but to defire your good company. BENE. O God, fir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my lady Tongue.

[Exit.

D. PEDRO. Come, lady, come; you have loft the heart of fignior Benedick.

BEAT. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I gave him ufe for it, a double heart for his fingle one: VOL. I.

3 K

marry, once before, he won it of me with falfe dice, therefore your grace may well fay, I have lost it.

D. PEDRO. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.

BEAT. SO I would not he should do me, my lord, left I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought count Claudio, whom you fent me to seek.

D. PEDRO. Why, how now, count? wherefore are you fad?

CLAUD. Not fad, my lord.

D. PEDRO. How then? Sick?

CLAUD. Neither, my lord.

BEAT. The count is neither fad, nor fick, nor merry, nor well: but civil, count; civil as an orange, and fomething of that jealous complexion.

D. PEDRO. I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though, I'll be fworn, if he be fo, his conceit is falfe. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained: name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy!

LEON. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace fay Amen to it!

BEAT. Speak, count, 'tis your cue.

CLAUD. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could fay how much.-Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange,

BEAT. Speak, coufin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak, neither.

D. PEDRO. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

BEAT. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps

on the windy fide of care:-My coufin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.

CLAUD. And fo fhe doth, coufin.

BEAT. Good lord, for alliance!-Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am fun-burn'd; I may fit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho! for a husband.

D. PEDRO. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

BEAT. I would rather have one of your father's getting: Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

D. PEDRO. Will you have me, lady?

BEAT. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working-days; your grace is too coftly to wear every day :-But, I beseech your grace, pardon me; I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter.

D. PEDRO. Your filence moft offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.

BEAT. No, fure, my lord, my mother cry'd; but then there was a ftar danced, and under that was I born. Coufins, God give you joy!

LEON. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?

BEAT. I cry you mercy, uncle.-By your grace's pardon. [Exit BEATRICE. D. PEDRO. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. LEON. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: fhe is never fad, but when she fleeps; and not ever fad then; for I have heard my daughter fay, fhe hath often dream'd of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.

D. PEDRO. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.

LEON. O, by no means; fhe mocks all her wooers out of fuit.

D. PEDRO. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. LEON. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.

D. PEDRO. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?

CLAUD. To-morrow, my lord: Time goes on crutches, till love have all his rites.

LEON. Not till Monday, my dear fon, which is hence a juft fevennight; and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind.

D. PEDRO. Come, you shake the head at fo long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time fhall not go dully by us; I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring fignior Benedick, and the lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minifter fuch affiftance as I fhall give you direction. LEON. My lord, I am for you, though it coft me ten nights' watchings.

CLAUD. And I, my lord.

D. PEDRO. And you too, gentle Hero?

HERO. I will do any modeft office, my lord, to help my coufin to a good husband.

D. PEDRO. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest hufband that I know: thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble ftrain, of approved valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour your coufin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick :—and I, with your two helps, will fo practice on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queafy ftomach, he shall fall in love with Bea

trice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory fhall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Another Room in LEONATO'S Houfe.

Enter Don JOHN and BORACHIO.

D. JOHN. It is fo; the count Claudio fhall marry the daughter of Leonato.

BORA. Yea, my lord; but I can crofs it.

D. JOHN. Any bar, any crofs, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am fick in difpleasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canft thou cross this marriage?

BORA. Not honeftly, my lord; but fo covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

D. JOHN. Show me briefly how.

BORA. I think, I told your lordship, a year fince, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero.

D. JOHN. I remember.

BORA. I can, at any unfeasonable inftant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window. D. JOHN. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?

BORA. The poifon of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wrong'd his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated ftale, fuch a one as Hero.

D. JOHN. What proof fhall I make of that?

BORA. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato: Look you for any other iffue?