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being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it.

Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a tranfgreffion? the tranfgreffion is in the stealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himfelf, and the rod he might have bestow'd on you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his bird's neft.

Pedro. I will but teach them to fing, and restore them to the owner.

Bene. If their finging answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly.

Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you.

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Bene. "O, she misus'd me past the indurance of

a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, " would have answer'd her; my very visor began to "affume life, and scold with her; she told me, not "thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's "jefter, and that I was duller than a great thaw; " hudling jeft upon jest, with 7 such impassable con

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veyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a " mark, with a whole army shooting at me, she speaks Ponyards, and every word stabs; if her "breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the "North-Star;" I would not marry her, though the were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he tranfgrefs'd; she would have made Hercules have turn'd Spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire

fuch IMPOSSIBLE conveyance] We should read IMPASSABLE. A term taken from fencing, when the strokes are fo fwift and repeated as not to be parried or passed off.

8 she would infect the North-Star;] i. e. There is nothing of fo pure and keen a brightness, that her calumnious tongue would not fully.

too.

7

too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find her, the infernal Até in good apparel. I would to God, fome scholar would conjure her; for, certainly, while she is here a man may live as quiet in hell as in a fanctuary, and people fin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and pertur

bation follow her.

SCENE V.

Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero.

Pedro. Look, here she comes.

Bene. Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the flightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the farthest 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 ambassage to the pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy; you have no employment for me?

Pedro. None, but to defire your good company. Bene. O God, Sir, here's a dish I love not. I cannot indure this Lady Tongue.

Pedro. Come, Lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick.

Beat. Indeed, my Lord, he lent it me a while, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for a single one; marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say, I have lost it.

Pedro. You have put him down, Lady, you have put him down.

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord,

9 the infernal Até in good apparel.] This is a pleasant allufion to the custom of ancient poets and painters, who represent the furies in raggs.

left

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left I should prove the mother of fools: I have brought Count Claudio, whom you fent me to feek.

Pedro. Why, how now, Count, wherefore are you fad?

Claud. Not fad, my Lord.
Pedro. How then? fick?

Claud. Neither, my Lord.

Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor fick, nor merry, nor well; but civil, Count, civil as an orange, and fomething of that jealous complexion.

Pedro. I'faith, Lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll be sworn, if he be fo, his conceit is false. 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 say, 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 say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away my felf for you, and doat upon the exchange.

Beat. Speak, Coufin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither. 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 cousin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.

Claud. And so she 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. 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 your Father got excellent Husbands, if a maid could come by them.

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, 1 was born to speak all mirth and no matter.

Pedro. Your filence most offends me, and to be merry beft 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 star danc'd, and under that I was born. Coufins, God give you joy.

Leon. Neice, will you look to those things I told you of?

Beat. I cry you mercy, Uncle: by your Grace's pardon.

SCENE

[Exit Beatrice,

VI.

Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited Lady. Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my Lord; she is never fad but when she sleeps, and not ever fad then; for I have heard my daughter fay, she hath often dream'd of an unhappiness, and wak'd her felf with laughing.

Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a hufband.

Leon. O, by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of fuit.

Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.

! she bath often dream'd of unbappiness,] So all the editions; but Mr. Theobald's alters it to, an happiness, having no conception that unhappiness meant any thing but misfortune, and that he thinks the could not laugh at. He had never heard that it fignified a wild, wanton, unlucky trick. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher in their comedy of the Maid of the Mill.

-My dreams are like my thoughts honest and innocent:
Yours are unhappy.

Leon. Leon. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a week marry'd, they would talk themselves mad.

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 just seven-night, and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind.

Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the Interim undertake one of Hercules's labours, which is, to bring Signior 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 to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction.

Leon. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost

me ten nights watchings.

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Claud. And I, my Lord.

Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero?

Hero. I will do any modest office, my Lord, to

help my Cousin to a good husband.

Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest hufband that I know: thus far I can praise him, he is of a noble strain, of approv'd 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 so practise on Benedick, that in despight of his quick wit, and his queafie stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer, his glory shall be ours, for we are the only Love-Gods; go in

with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt.

SCENE

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