Coufins, you know what you have to do. [Several cross the frage here.] O, I cry you mercy, friend, go you with me and I will use your skill; good Coufin, have a care this busy time. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to an Apartment in
Leonato's House.

Enter Don John and Conrad.

Conr.7HAT the good-jer, my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad?

John. There is no measure in the occafion that breeds it, therefore the fadness is without limit.

Conr. You fhould hear reafon.

John. And when I have heard it, what bleffing bringeth it.

Conr. If not a prefent remedy, yet a patient fufferance. John. I wonder, that thou (being, as thou fay'ft thou art, born under Saturn) goeft about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief: I cannot hide what I am I must be fad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have ftomach, and wait for no man's leisure; fleep when I am drowfy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour.

Conr. Yea, but you must not make the full fhow of this, 'till you may do it without controlment; you have of late flood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impoffible you fhould take root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself; it is needful that you frame the feason for your own harveft.

John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rofe in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be difdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any in this, (though I cannot be faid to be a flattering honeft man) it must not be deny'd but I am a plain-dealing villain; I am trusted with a muzzle, and infranchised with a clog, therefore I have decreed


not to fing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite, if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the mean time let me be that I am, and feek not to alter me.

Conr. Can you make no ufe of your difcontent?

John. I will make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? what news, Borachio?

Enter Borachio.

Bora. I came yonder from a great fupper; the Prince, your brother, is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage.

John. Will it ferve for any model to build mifchief on? what is he for a fool, that bet oths himmelf to unquietness?

Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand.

John. Who, the most exquifite Claudio?

Bora. Even he.

John. A proper Squire! and who, and who? which way looks he?

Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. John. A very forward Murch chick! How come you to this?

Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was finoak ng a mufty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio hand in hand in fad conference: I whipt behind the arias, and there heard it agreed upon, that the prince fhould woo Hero for himself; and having obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio.

John. Come, come, let us thither, this may prove food to my difpleasure that young ftart-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can crofs him any way, I blefs myself every way; you are both fure, and will affift me.

Conr. To the death, my lord.

John. Let us to the great fupper; their cheer is the greater, that I am fubdu'd; would the cook were of my mind!-fall we go prove what's to be done? Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship.



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SCENE, a Hall in Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice,
Margaret and Urfula.


WAS not Count John here at supper ?

Ant. I faw him not.

Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never cam see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after. Hero. He is of a very melancholy difpofition.

Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made juft in the mid-way between him and Benedick; the one is too like an image, and fays nothing: and the other too like my lady's eldeft fon, evermore tatling.

Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face

Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, Uncle, and money enough in his purfe, fuch a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good Will.

Leon. By my troth, Niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be fo fhrewd of thy tongue.

Ant. In faith, fhe's too curft,

Beat. Too curft is more than curft; I fhall leffen God's fending that way; for it is faid, God fends a curft Cow fhort horns; but to a Cow too curft he fends


Leon. So, by being too curft, God will fend you no


Beat. Juft, if he fend me no hufband; for the which Bleffing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in woollen.


Leon. You may light upon a husband, that hath no beard.

Beat. What fhould I do with him? drefs him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? he that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is lefs than a man; and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is lefs than a man, I am not for him; therefore I will even take fixpence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes

into hell.

Leon. Well then, go you into hell,

Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and fay, "get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you "to heav'n, here's no place for you maids." So deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns ; he fhews me where the bachelors fit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.

Ant. Well, Niece, I truft you will be rul'd by your father.

[To Hero Beat. Yes, faith, it is my Coufin's duty to make curtfy, and fay, Father, as it please you; but yet for all that, Coufin, let him be a handfome fellow, or elfe make another curtfy, and fay, Father, as it pleafes me.

Leon. Well, Niece, I hope to fee you one day fitted with a husband.

Beat. Not 'till God make men of fome other metal than earth; would it not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd with a piece of valiant duft ? to make account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? 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 an


Beat. The fault will be in the mufick, be not woo'd in good time; (4) if the

coufin, if you Prince be too impor

(4) If the Prince be too importunate.] This is the reading only of Mr. Pope's impreffions, as I can find, and warranted by none of


important, tell him, there is measure in every thing, and fo dance out the Anfwer: for hear me Hero, wooing; wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a meafure, and a cinque-pace; the firft fuit is hot and hafty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly-modeft, as a measure, full of state and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace fafter and faster, 'till he finks into his grave.

Leon. Coufin, you apprehend paffing fhrewdly.

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 Mafquerade.

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 pleafe.

Pedro. And when please you to say fo?

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

Pedro. (5) My vifor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.


the copies. I have reftor'd with all the old books, important ; i. e. if the prince be too forcible, preffing, lays too much stress on his Suit, &c. The poet employs this word again, in the like fignification, in K. Lear.

-therefore great France

My mourning, and important tears hath pitied.

(5) My vifor is Philemon's roof, within the boufe is Love.] Thus the whole ftream of the copies, from the firft downwards. I must own, this paffage for a long while appear'd very obfcure to me, and gave me much trouble in attempting to understand it. Hero fays to Don Pedro, God forbid, the lute thould be like the cafe ! i. e. that your face fhould be as homely and as coarfe as your mask. Upon this, Don Pedro compares his vifor to Philemon's roof. 'Tis

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