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master'd with a piece of valiant duft? to make account of her life to a clod of way-ward marle? no, uncle, I'll none; Adam's fons are my brethren, and, truly, I hold it a fin to match in my kindred.

Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told you, if the Prince do folicit you in that kind, you know your anfwer.

Beat. The fault will be in the mufick, coufin, if you be not woo'd in good time; If the Prince be too important, tell him, there is meafure in every thing, and fo dance out the Anfwer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and rcpenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace; the firft fuit is hot and hafty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantaftical; the wedding mannerly-modeft, as a measure, full of ftate and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque pace fafter and fafter, 'till he finks into his grave.

Leon. Coufin, you apprehend paffing shrewdly.

Beat. I have a good eye, uncle, I can fee a church by day-light.

Leon. The revellers are entring, brother; make good


Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar and others in Masquerade.

Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend? Hero. So you walk foftly, and look fweetly, and fay nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk away.

Pedro. With me in your company?

Hero. I may fay fo, when I please.

Pedro. And when please you to say fo?

Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend, the lute should be like the cafe!

Pedro. (4) My vifor is Philemon's roof; within the houfe is Jove.


(4) My Vifor is Philemon's Roof, within the Houfe is Love.] Thus the whole Stream of the Copies, from the first down


Hero. Why, then your visor fhould be thatch'd.
Pedro. Speak low, if you fpeak love.

Balth. Well, I would, you did like me. (5)

Marg. So would not I for your own fake, for I have many qualities.

Balth. Which is one?

wards. I must own, this Paffage for a long while appear'd very obscure to me, and gave me much Trouble in attempting to understand it, Hero fays to Don Pedro, God forbid, the Lute fhould be like the Cafe! i. e. that your Face should be as homely and as courfe as your Mask. Upon this, Don Pedro compares his Visor to Philemon's Roof. 'Tis plain, the Poet alludes to the Story of Baucis and Philemon from OvID: And this old Couple, as the Roman Poet defcribes it, liv'd in a thatch'd Cottage;

Stipulis & canná teƐt̃a palufiri.

But why, Within the Houfe is Love? Baucis and Philemon, 'tis true, had liv'd to old Age together, in a comfortable State of Agreement. But Piety and Hofpitality are the top Parts of their Character. Our Poet unquestionably goes a little deeper into the Story. Tho' this old Pair liv'd in a Cottage, this Cottage receiv'd two ftraggling Gods, (Jupiter and Mercury,) under its Roof. So, Don Pedro is a Prince; and tho' his Vifor is but ordinary, he would infinuate to Hero, that he has fomething god-like within: alluding either to his Dignity, or the Qualities of his Perfon and Mind. By thefe Circumftances, I am fure, the Thought is mended: as, I think verily, the Text is too by the Change of a fingle Letter.

within the Houfe is Jove.

Nor is this Emendation a little confirm'd by another Paffage in our Authōr, in which he plainly alludes to the fame Story. As you like it.

Clown. I am bere with thee and thy Goats, as the mōji capricious Poet, boneft Ovid, was amongst the Goths.

Jaq. O Knowledge ill inhabited, worfe than Jove in a thatch'd Houfe.

(5) Balth. Well; I would, you did like me. .] This and the two following little Speeches, which I have placed to Balthazar, are in all the printed Copies given to Benedick. But, 'tis clear, the Dialogue here ought to be betwixt Baltbazar, and Margaret: Benedick, a little lower, converfes with Beatrice: and fo every Man talks with his Woman once round.


Marg. I fay my Prayers aloud.

Balth. I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.

Marg. God match me with a good dancer!

Balth. Amen.

Marg. And God keep him out of my fight when the dance is done! Answer, Clerk.

Balth. No more words, the clerk is answer'd.

Urf. I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urf. I know you by the wagling of your head.
Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

Urf. You could never do him fo ill-well, unless you were the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are he, you are he.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urf. Come, come, do you think, I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide it felf? go to, mum, you are he; graces will appear, and there's an end.

Beat. Will you not tell me, who told you fo?
Bene. No, you shall pardon me.

Beat. Nor will you not tell me, who you are?
Bene. Not now.

Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good Wit out of the Hundred merry Tales; well, this was Signior Benedick that faid fo.

Bene. What's he?

Beat. I am fure, you know him well enough.

Bene. Not I, believe me.

Beat. Did he never make you laugh?

Bene. I pray you, what is he?

Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jefter; a very dull fool, enly his gift is in devifing impoffible flanders: none but libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him; I am fure, he is in the fleet; I would, he had boarded me.


Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say.

Beat. Do, do, he'll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not laugh'd at, ftrikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing fav'd, for the fool will eat no fupper that night. We must follow the leaders. [Mufick within. Bene. In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Exeunt..

Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio.

John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: the ladies follow her, and but one visor remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio; I know him by his Bearing.

John. Are you not Signior Benedick!

Claud. You know me well, I am he.

John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love, he is enamour'd on Hero; I pray you, diffuade him from her, fhe is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honeft man in it.

Claud. How know ye, he loves her?

John. I heard him fwear his affection.

Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her to night.

John. Come, let us to the banquet.

[Exeunt John and Bor. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain fo, the Prince wooes for himself. Friendship is conftant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love;

Therefore all hearts in love ufe their own tongues,

Let every eye negotiate for it felf,

And truft no agent; beauty is a witch,

Against whofe charms faith melteth into blood.
This is an accident of hourly proof,

Which I miftrufted not. Farewel then, Hero.



Enter Benedick.

Bene. Count Claudio?

Claud. Yea, the fame.

Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claud. Whither?

Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own bufinefs, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an Ufurer's chain? or under your arm, like a Lieutenant's scarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.

Claud. I wish him Joy of her.

Bene. Why, that's fpoken like an honeft drover; fo they fell bullocks: but did you think, the Prince would have ferved you thus ?

Claud. I pray you, leave me.

Bene. Ho! now you ftrike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the Poft. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit.


Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowle! now will he creep into fedges. But, that my Lady Beatrice fhould know me, and not know me! the Prince's fool! ha? it may be, go under that Title, because I am merry; yea, but fo I am apt to do myfelf wrong: I am not fo reputed. It is the bafe (tho' bitter) difpofition of Beatrice, that puts the World into her perfon, and fo gives me out; well, I'll be reveng'd as I may.

Enter Don Pedro.

Pedro. Now, Signior, where's the Count? did you fee him?

Bene. Troth, my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the Will of this young lady, and I offer'd him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forfaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.

Pedro. To be whipt! what's his fault?

Bene. The flat tranfgreffion of a School-boy; who,

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