SCENE II.-Leonato's Garden.
Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting.
Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret,

And sing it to her bones,-sing it to-night :-deserve well at my hands by helping me to
To-morrow morning come you to my house; the speech of Beatrice.
And since you could not be my son-in-law,

Marg. Will you, then, write me a sonnet in

Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it.

Marg. To have no man come over me! why, shall I always keep below-stairs?

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

Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daugh-praise of my beauty?
Almost the copy of my child that's dead, [ter,
And she alone is heir to both of us :
Give her the right you should have given her
And so dies my revenge.
[cousin,
Claud.
O noble sir !
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me.
I do embrace your offer; and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio. [coming;
Leon. To-morrow, then, I will expect your
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.

Bora.
No, by my soul, she was not;
Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke

to me;

But always hath been just and virtuous,
In anything that I do know by her.

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

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

Marg. Give us the swords; 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.

Bene. And therefore will come.

[Exit Margaret.

[Singing.]

The god of love,

That sits above,

And knows me, and knows me,

How pitiful I deserve,

Dogb. Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not under white and black,) this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me a ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name, -the which he hath used so I mean, in singing; but in loving, Leander long, and never paid, that now men grow the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's of panders, and a whole book-full of these sake: pray you, examine him upon that point. quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest run smoothly in the even road of a blank pains. verse,-why, they were never so truly turned Dogh. Your worship speaks like a most over and over as my poor self, in love. Marry, thankful and reverend youth; and I praise I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I God for you. Leon. There's for thy pains. can find out no rhyme to "lady but Dogb. God save the foundation! "baby,"-an innocent rhyme; for "scorn," Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner," horn," - a hard rhyme; for "school," and I thank thee. "fool,"―a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.— Enter Beatrice.

Dogb. I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, 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 wished, God prohibit it !-Come, neighbour.

[Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch. Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. [to-morrow. Ant. Farewell, my lords: we look for you D. Pedro. We will not fail.

Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I
called thee?
[bid me.
Beat. Yea, signior; and depart when you
Bene. O, stay but till then!

Beat. "Then" is spoken; fare you well now:-and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.

Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.

Beat. For them altogether; which main-Now, music, sound; and sing your solemn

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.

most true.

[think.

Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains I
Friar. To do what, signior? [them.-
Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.
Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: 'tis
[her.
Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite
Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had
from me,
[will?
From Claudio, and the prince: but what's your
Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:
But, for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
In the state of honourable marriage :
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar.
And my help.
Here come the prince and Claudio.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with
Attendants.

D. Pedro. Good-morrow to this fairassembly.
Leon. Good-morrow, prince: good-morrow,
Claudio:

We here attend you. Are you yet determin'd
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?
Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an
Ethiop.

Leon. Call her forth, brother: here's the
friar ready.
[Exit Antonio.
D. Pedro. Good-morrow, Benedick. Why,
what's the matter,

That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?
Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage
bull.-

Tush! fear not, man; we'll tip thy horns with
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee; [gold,
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;
And some such strange bull leap'd your father's
And got a calf in that same noble feat, [cow,
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
Claud. For this I owe you: here come
other reckonings.

D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is
dead !
[slander liv'd.

Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her
Friar. All this amazement can I qualify:
When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:
Meantime, let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently. [Beatrice?
Bene. Soft and fair, friar. - Which is
Beat. [Unmasking.] I answer to that name.
What is your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat. Why, no; no more than reason.
Bene. Why, then, your uncle, and the

prince, and Claudio,

Have been deceived; for they swore you did.
Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no; no more than reason.
Beat. Why, then, my cousin, Margaret,
and Ursula,

[did. Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear, you Bene. They swore that you were almost sick [dead for me. Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh Bene. 'Tis no such matter. Then, you do not love me?

for me.

Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the
gentleman.
[loves her;
Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't that he
For here's a paper, written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero.
And here's another,
Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen 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 persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.

Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth.

[Kissing her. D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

Re-enter Antonio, with the ladies masked. Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college Which is the lady I must seize upon? [her. of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my Ant. This same is she, and I do give you humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire, Claud. Why, then she's mine.-Sweet, let or an epigram? No; if a man will be beaten me see your face. [her hand with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take about him. In brief, since I do purpose to Before this friar, and swear to marry her. marry, I will think nothing to any purpose Claud. Give me your hand before this holy that the world can say against it; and thereI am your husband, if you like of me. [friar: fore never flout at me for what I have said Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this wife : [Unmasking. is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I And when you lov'd, you were my other hus-did think to have beaten thee; but, in that Claud. Another Hero! [band. thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.

Hero.

Nothing certainer One Hero died defil'd; but I do live,

And surely as I live, I am a maid.

Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled

thee out of thy single life, to make thee a get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend double dealer; which, out of question, thou than one tipped with horn. wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends.-Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterward. Bene. First, of my word; therefore play, music!-Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife,

SCENE,-Navarre.

What is the end of study? let me know. King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know.

Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean,
from common sense?
[pense.
King. Ay, that is study's god-like recom-
Biron. Come on, then; I will swear to study
To know the thing I am forbid to know: [so,
As thus,-to study where I well may dine,

When I to feast expressly am forbid ;
Or study where to meet some mistress fine,
When mistresses from common sense are
hid;

Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath,
Study to break it, and not break my troth.
If study's gain be thus, and this be so,
Study knows that which yet it doth not know:
Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.

King. These be the stops that hinder study
And train our intellects to vain delight. [quite,
Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that
most vain,

Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain:
As, painfully to pore upon a book [while
To seek the light of truth: while truth the
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:

Light, seeking light, doth light of light
beguile :

At Christmas I no more desire a rose [shows;
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled
But like of each thing that in season grows.
So you, to study now it is too late,
Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate.
King. Well, sit you out: go home, Biron :
adieu !

Biron. No, my good lord, I have sworn to
stay with you:

And though I have for barbarism spoke more
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
Yet confident I'll keep to what I swore,

And bide the penance of each three years'

day.

Give me the paper,-let me read the same;
And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.
King. How well this yielding rescues thee

from shame!

Biron. [Reads.] "Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my court,"-Hath this been proclaim'd? Long. Four days ago. Biron. Let's see the penalty. [Reads.] "On pain of losing her tongue."-Who devised this Long. Marry, that did I. [penalty? Biron. Sweet lord, and why? Long. To fright them hence with that dread penalty.

Biron. A dangerous law against gentility!

So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,[Reads.] "Item, If any man be seen to talk
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
Study me how to please the eye indeed,
By fixing upon a fairer eye;
Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And give him light that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,

with a woman within the term of three years,
he shall endure such public shame as the rest
of the court can possibly devise."-
This article, my liege, yourself must break;

That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks:

Small have continual plodders ever won,

Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, That give a name to every fixèd star, Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. [fame; Too much to know, is to know nought but And every godfather can give a name. King. How well he's read, to reason against reading! [ceeding! Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proLong. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding.

Biron. The spring is near, when green
geese are a breeding.
Dum. How follows that?
Biron.
Dum. In reason nothing.
Biron.
Something, then, in rhyme.
King. Biron is like an envious sneaping
frost,
[spring.
That bites the first-born infants of the
Biron. Well, say I am; why should proud
summer boast

Fit in his place and time.

Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in an abortive birth?

For well you know, here comes in embassy The French king's daughter with yourself to speak,

A maid of grace and complete majesty,— About surrender up of Aquitain

To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father:
Therefore this article is made in vain,

Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither.
King. What say you, lords? why, this was

quite forgot.

Biron. So study evermore is overshot :
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should;
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost.

King. We must of force dispense with this
She must lie here on mere necessity. [decree ;
Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn
Three thousand times within this three years'
For every man with his affects is born, [space;
Not by might master'd, but by special grace:
If I break faith this word shall speak for me,
I am forsworn on mere necessity.—
So to the laws at large I write my name :

[Subscribes. And he that breaks them in the least degree Stands in attainder of eternal shame :

Suggestions are to others, as to me;
But I believe, although I seem so loth,
I am the last that will last keep his oath.
But is there no quick recreation granted?