would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true fpeaking, I'll offend no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a Husband? none, I think, if it be the right Husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heavy; ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes.

Hero. Good morrow, coz.

Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero.

Hero. Why, how now? do you speak in the fick

tune?

A

Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. Marg. Clap us into Light o' love; that goes without a burden; do you fing it, and I'll dance it...

Beat. Yes, Light o' love with your heels, then if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns.

Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.

Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready: by my troth, I am exceeding ill; hey ho!

Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?

Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.
Marg. Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's

no more failing by the star.

Beat. What means the fool, trow?

:

Marg. Nothing I, but God fend every one their heart's defire!

Hero. These gloves the count fent me, they are an excellent perfume.

Beat. I am stufft, coufin, I cannot smell.

of cold.

Marg. A maid, and stufft! there's goodly catching Beat. O, God help me, God help me, how long have you profeft apprehenfion?

Marg. Ever since you left it; doth not my wit become me rarely?

Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in

your cap. By my troth, I am fick.

Marg. Get you fome of this distill'd Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle.

Beat. Benedictus? why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus.

Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning, I meant plain holy-thistle: you may think, perchance, that I think you are in love; nay, birlady, I am not fuch a fool to think what I lift; nor I lift not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man; he swore, he would never marry; and yet now, in despight of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted, I know not; but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do.

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
Marg. Not a false gallop.

Urfu. Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the Gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church.

Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good

Ursula.

[Exeunt.

:

Another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. Leon. WHAT would you with me, honeft neigh

Dogb. Marry, Sir, I would have fome confidence with you, that decerns you nearly.

Leon. Brief, I pray you; for, you fee, 'tis a busy time with me.

Dogb. Marry, this it is, Sir.
Verg. Yes, in truth it is, Sir.

Leon. What is it, my good friends?

Dogb. Goodman Verges, Sir, speaks a little of the matter; an old man, Sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would defire they were; but, in faith, as honeft as the skin between his brows.

Verg. "Yes, I thank God, I am as honeft as any "man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I."

Dogb. Comparisons are odorous; palabras, neighbour Verges.

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ha?

2 I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honefter than I) There is much humour, and extreme good fense under the cover of this blundering expression. It is a fly infinuation that length of years, and the being much hacknied in the ways of men, as Shakespear expresses it, take off the glofs of virtue, and bring much defilement on the manners. For as a great Wit says, Youth is the season of Virtue: corruptions grow with years, and I believe the oldeft Rogue in England is the greatest.

Dogb

Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and tho' I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.

Verg. And fo am I.

Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, Sir, our Watch to night, excepting your worship's prefence, hath ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina.

Dogh. " A good old man, Sir; he will be talking, " as they say; when the age is in, the wit is out; God " help us, it is a world to fee: well faid, i'faith, " neighbour Verges, well, he's a good man; an two

men ride an horse, one must ride behind; an honest " foul, i'faith, Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke " bread, but God is to be worshipp'd; all men are " not alike, alas, good neighbour!"

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts, that God gives.

Leon. I must leave you.

Dogb. One word, Sir; our Watch have, indeed, comprehended two aufpicious persons; and we would have them this morning examin'd before your worship.

Leon. Take their examination your self, and bring it me; I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you.

Dogb. It shall be suffigance.

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well.

Enter a Messenger.

Meff. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband.

Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Ex. Leon. Dogb. Go, good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men.

Verg.

Verg. And we must do it wifely.

Dogb. "We will spare for no wit, I warrant; " here's That shall drive some of them to a non"come." Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the Jail. (Exeunt.

:

ACT IV. SCENEI.

A CHURCH.

Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice.

LEONATO.

COME, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their

particular duties afterwards.

Friar. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this lady?

Glaud. No.

Leon. To be marry'd to her, friar; you come to

marry her.

Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to

this Count?

Hero. I do.

Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you

on your fouls to utter it.

Claud. Know you any, Hero?

Hero. None, my Lord.

Friar. Know you any, Count?

Leon. I dare make his answer, none.

Claud. O what men dare do! what men may do!

what Men daily do! not knowing what they do!

Bene.