an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Aside. [Exeunt DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO.

BENEDICK advances from the arbor.

Bene. This can be no trick. The conference was sadly borne.-They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have their full bent. Love me! Why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured. They say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say, too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.-I did never think to marry ; -I must not seem proud.-Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair;-'tis a truth; I can bear them witness and virtuous;-'tis so; I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me.-By my troth, it is no addition to her wit;-nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage ;-but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips, and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humor? No. The world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady. I do spy some marks of love in her.

Enter BEATRICE.

Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than

1 Seriously carried on.

you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleasure then in the message? Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal.-You have no stomach, seignior; fare you well. [Exit.

Bene. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you come to dinner;-there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me-that's as much as to say, any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks.-If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture.

[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Leonato's Garden.

Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA.

1

Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlor ; There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice, Proposing with the prince and Claudio: Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honey-suckles, ripened by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter;-like favorites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it. There will she hide her, To listen our propose. This is thy office;

Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

1 Proposing is conversing, from the French propos, discourse, talk.

2 The folio reads purpose; the quarto propose, which appears to be right. See the preceding note.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.

[Exit.

Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick.
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit;
My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice.

Of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin;
Enter BEATRICE, behind.

For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with their golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait.
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose

nothing

Of the false sweet bait, that we lay for it.

[They advance to the bower.

No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock.1

Urs.
But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed lord.
Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,

And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman

1 A hawk not trained to obedience; a wild hawk.
2 Wish him, that is, recommend to or desire him.

Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,

As ever Beatrice shall couch upon ?

Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man;
But nature never framed a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her

All matter else seems weak. She cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.

Urs. Sure, I think so;

And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,
But she would spell him backward. If fair-faced,
She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut;

3

If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out;
And never gives to truth and virtue, that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No, nor to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.

But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly.

1 Undervaluing.

2 Alluding to the practice of witches in uttering prayers, i. e. misinterpret them.

3 An agate is often used metaphorically for a very diminutive person, in allusion to the figures cut in agate for rings, &c.

It were a better death than die with mocks;
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion.
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with; one doth not know,
How much an ill word may empoison liking.

Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment, (Having so swift and excellent a wit,

As she is prized to have,) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as seignior Benedick.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,
Speaking my fancy; seignior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument,' and valor,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.-
When are you married, madam?

Hero. Why, every day ;-to-morrow. Come, go in ; I'll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel, Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Urs. She's limed, I warrant you; we have caught her, madam.

Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [Exeunt HERO and URSULA.

BEATRICE advances.

Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?

Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! And maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.

1 i. e. discourse, or powers of reasoning. 2 i. e. ensnared.