Claud. He is then a giant to an ape, but then is an ape a doctor to fuch a man.

Pedro. But foft you, let me fee, pluck up my heart and be fad; did he not fay my brother was fled?

SCENE IV.

Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borachio guarded.

Dogb. Come you, Sir, if juftice cannot tame you, fhe fhall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, if you be a curfing hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one!

Claud. Hearken after their offence, my Lord.

Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done? Dogb. Marry, Sir, they have committed falfe report, moreover they have spoken untruths; fecondarily, they are flanders; fixth and laftly, they have bely'd a Lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves.

Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; fixth and laftly, why they are committed; and to conclude, what you lay to their charge?

Claud. Rightly reafon'd, and in his own divifion; and by my troth, there's one meaning well fuited.

Pedro. Whom have you offended, mafters, that you are thus bound to your anfwer? This learned Constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence?

Bora. Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine anfwer; do you hear me, and let this Count kill me: I have deceiv'd even your very eyes; what your wifdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confeffing to this man, how Don John your brother incens'd me to flander the Lady Hero, VOL. I.

LI

how

how you were brought into the orchard, and faw me court Margaret in Hero's garments, how you difgrac'd her when you should marry her; my villainy they have upon record, which I had rather feal with my death, than repeat over to my fhame; the Lady is dead upon mine and my mafter's falfe accufation; and briefly, I defire nothing but the reward of a villain.

Pedro. Runs not this fpeech like iron through your blood?

Claud. I have drunk poifon while he utter'd it. Pedro. But did my brother fet thee on to this? Bora. 'Yea, paid` me richly for the practice of it. Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery, And fled he is upon this villainy.

Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare femblance that I lov'd it firft.

Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs, by this time our fexton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the matter; and, mafters, do not forget to fpecifie, when time and place fhall ferve, that I am an ass.

Verg. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the fexton too.

Enter Leonato, and Sexton.

Leon. Which is the villain? let me fee his eyes, That when I note another man like him,

I may avoid him; which of thefe is he?

Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me. Leon. Art thou, art thou the flave that with thy breath Haft kill'd mine innocent child?

Bora. 'Even` I alone.

Leon. No, not fo, villain, thou bely'ft thy felf;

Here stand a pair of honourable men,

4 Yea, and paid

5 Yea, even

A third

A third is fled, that had a hand in it:

I thank you, Princes, for my daughter's death;
Record it with your high and worthy deeds,
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

Claud. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak: chufe your revenge your felf,
Expofe me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my fin; yet finn'd I not,
But in mistaking.

Pedro. By my foul, nor I;

And yet to fatisfie this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight

That he'll enjoyn me to.

Leon. You cannot bid my daughter live again, That were impoffible; but I pray you both,

Poffefs the people in Mefina here

How innocent fhe dy'd; and if your love
Can labour ought in fad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And fing it to her bones, fing it to-night:
To-morrow morning come you to my houfe,
And fince you could not be my fon-in-law,
Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter
Almost the copy of my child that's dead,

And fhe alone is heir to both of us,

Give her the right you should have given her coufin,
And fo dies my revenge.

Claud. O noble Sir!

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me:
I do embrace your offer, and difpofe

For henceforth of

poor Claudio

Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming, To-night I take my leave.

This naughty man

Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,

Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong,

Hir'd to it by your brother.

6 Impose

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Bora.

Bora. No, by my foul, fhe was not;
Nor knew not what the did when she spoke to me.
But always hath been just and virtuous,
In any thing that I do know by her.

Dogb. Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me afs; I beseech you, let it be remembred in his punishment; and alfo the Watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they fay he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows mony in God's name, the which he hath us'd fo long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's fake. Pray you examine

him upon that point.

Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. Dogb. Your worship fpeaks like a moft thankful and reverend youth; and I praife God for you.

Leon. There's for thy pains.

Dogb. God fave the foundation!

Leon. Go, I difcharge thee of thy prifoner; and I thank thee.

Dogb. I leave an errant knave with your Worship, which I beseech your Worship to correct your felf, for the example of others. God keep your Worship; I wish your Worship well: God restore you to health; I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wifh'd, God prohibit it. Come, neighbour. [Exeunt. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, Lords, farewel. Ant. Farewel, my Lords, we look for you to-morrow. Pedro. We will not fail.

Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero.

Leon. Bring you these fellows on, we'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

[Exeunt feverally.

SCENE

Bene.

PRAY thee, fweet miftrefs Margaret, deferve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of

Beatrice.

Marg. Will you then write me a fonnet in praise of my beauty?

Bene. In fo high a ftyle, Margaret, that no man living fhall come over it; for in most comely truth thou defervest it.

Marg. To have no man come over me? why, fhall I always keep 'above stairs?

Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth,

it catches.

Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not.

Bene. A moft manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and fo, I pray thee, call Beatrice; I give thee the bucklers.

Marg. Give us the fwords, we have bucklers of our

own.

Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for

maids.

Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. [Exit Margaret. Bene. And therefore will come. [Sings.] The God of love that fits above, and knows me, and knows me, how pitiful I deferve, I mean in finging; but in loving, Leander the good fwimmer, Troilus the firft employer of pandars, and a whole book full of thefe quondam carpet-mongers L13

7

below... old edit. Theob, emend.

whofe