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Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior,
Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis moft
Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The fight whereof, I think, you had from
From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will?
Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants.
Pedro. Good morrow to this fair affembly.
We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
That you have fuch a February-face,
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,
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?
Ant. 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.
Claud. Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, I am your husband if you like of me.
Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife.
And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero?
Hero. Nothing certainer.
One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live;
Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead! Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her flander liv'd.
Friar. All this amazement can I qualifie.
Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that name; what is your
Beat. Why, no, no more than reason,
Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they fwore, you did. Beat. Do not you love me?
Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason.
Beat. Why, then my Coufin, Margaret and Urfula, Have been deceiv'd; for they did fwear, you did.
Bene. They fwore, you were almoft fick for me. Beat. They fwore, you were well-nigh dead for
Bene. 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence.
Leon. Come, Coufin, I am fure, you love the gen
Claud. And I'll be fworn upon't, that he loves
For here's a paper written in his hand,
Hero. And here's another,
Writ in my Coufin's hand, ftolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick.
Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.
Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great perfuafion, and partly to fave
2 I would not deny you,, &c.] Mr. Theobold fays, is not this mock-reafoning? She would not deny him, but that she yields upon great perfuafion. In changing the Negative I make no doubt but I have retriev'd the poet's humour: and fo changes not into yet. But is not this a Mock Critic? who could not fee that the plain obvious fenfe of the common reading was this, I cannot find in my heart to deny you, but for all that I yield, after having stood out great perfuafions to fubmiffion. He had faid, I take thee for
your life; for as I was told, you were in a confump
Bene. Peace, I will ftop your mouth.
[Killing ber. Pedro. How doft thou, Benedick, the married man?
Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: doft thou think, I care for a fatire, or an epigram? no: "if a "man will be beaten with brains, he fhall wear no"thing handsome about him;" in brief, fince I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can fay against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have faid against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclufion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinfman, live unbruis'd, and love my coufin.
Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy fingle life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of queftion, thou wilt be, if my Coufin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.
Bene. Come, come, we are friends; let's have a Dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels.
Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.
Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play, mufick. Prince, thou art fad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with
pity, the replies, I would not deny thee. i. e. I take thee for pity too: but as I live I am won to this compliance by importunity of friends. Mr. Theobald by altering not to yet makes it fuppofed, that he had been importunate, and that he had often denied; which was not the cafe.