The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

We'll fit the kid fox with a penny-worth.

Enter BALTHAZAR, with music.

Cand.
D. Pe

Claud. 'Faith, like enough.
Leon. O God! counterfeit! There never was coun-

D.Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again. terfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as
Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice

To slander music any more than once.

D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection. -
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more!
Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy; yethe wooes;
Yet will he swear, heloves.

D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come:
Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes!

Balth. Note this before my notes,

There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting. D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets, that he speaks;

Note, notes, forsooth, and noting!

[Music. Bene. Now, Divine air! nowis his soul ravished! Is it not strange, that sheeps' guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?-Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.

BALTHAZAR sings.

Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore;
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,

And be you blith and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

II.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The frauds of men were ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, etc.

D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song!
Balth. And an ill singer, my lord.

she discovers it.

D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she? Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. [Aside. Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit you,You heard my daughter tell you how.

Claud. She did, indeed.

D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.

Leon. I would have sworn, it had, my lord; especially

against Benedick.

D.Pedro.Ha? no; no, faith; thou singest well enough

for a shift.

Bene. [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hideitself in such reverence.

Claud. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up. [Aside. D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?

Bene. [Aside.] An he had been a dog, that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him: and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

Leon. No; and swears she never will: that's her torment.

Claud. 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: Shall I, says she, that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him, that I love him?

D. Pedro. Yea, marry. [To Claudio.] -Dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window.

Balth. The best I can, mylord.

Leon. This says she now, when she is beginning to write to him: for she'll be up twenty times a night; and there will she sit in her smock, till she have writa sheet of paper:-my daughter tells us all.

D. Pedro. Do so: farewell![Exeunt Balthazar and music.] Come hither, Leonato! What was it you told me of to-day? that your nieee Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick?

Claud. O, ay!-Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. [Aside to Pedro.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.

Leon. O!-When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the Claud. That.

sheet?

Leon. O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: 1 measure him, says she, by my own spirit: for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.

Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; – O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!

Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid, she will do a desperate outrage to herself; it is very true.

D. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.

Claud. To what end? He would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.

D. Pedro. Anhe should, it were an alms to hang him. She's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.

Claud. And she is exceeding wise.

D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.

D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have daff'd all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say.

Leon. Were it good, think you ?

Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die: for she says, she will die, if he love her not; and she will die, ere she makes her loveknown; and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.

D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scornit; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

Claud. He is a very proper man.

Bene. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happi- come to dinner-there's a double meaning in that. I

ness.

Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise.
D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are
Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

like wit.

D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may see he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most christian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love?

Claud. Nevertell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel.

Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her

heart out first.

D.Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your daughter;let it cool the while. I loveBenedick well; and I could wish, he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady.

Leon. Mylord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation.

[Aside.

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 amaJew: I will go get her picture.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-Leonato's garden.
Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA.

[Exit.

Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour;
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, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter; -like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it:-there will she hide
To listen our propose. This is thy office;
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone!

her,

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

D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her;
and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman
carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opi-
nion of another's dotage, and no such matter; that's To praise him more than ever man did merit:
the scene that I would see, which will be merely a My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
dumb show. Letus send her to call him in to dinner. Is sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter

[Aside. Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,

[Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato. That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin;
BENEDICK advances from the arbour.
Enter BEATRICE, behind.
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Urs. The pleasant'stangling is to see the fish
Cut with her 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.-

Bene. This can be no trick: the conference was
sadly borne.-They havethetruth of this from Hero.
They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections
have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be re-
quited. 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 de-
tractions, 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 humour? 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.

[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.

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 intreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman

Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,

As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

Hero. O Godoflove! I know, he doth deserve

Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in As much as may be yielded to a man: to dinner.

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I

would not have come.

Bene. You take pleasure 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, signior; fare you well.

But nature never fram'd 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.

[Exit. 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 featur'd,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd,
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:

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: not to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatriceis, 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 cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
It were a better death, than die with mocks;
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

Urs. Yettell 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 muchan 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 priz'd to have,) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman, as signior Benedick.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.
Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,
peaking my fancy; signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.

with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him: he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So say I; methinks, you are sadder. Claud. I hope, he be in love.

D. Pedro. Hang him, truant! there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love: if he be sad, he wants money.

Bene. I have the tooth-ach.

D. Pedro. Drawit.

Bene. Hang it!

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
D. Pedro. What? sigh for the tooth-ach?
Leon. Where is buta humour, or a worm?

Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but he that

has it.

Claud. Yet say I, heis in love.

D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day; a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as, a German from the waist downward, all slops; and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet: unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.

Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat o' mornings; what should that bode?

D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's? Clazd. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls.

Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.

D. Pedro. Nay, herubs himself with civet. Can you smell him out by that?

Claud. That's as much as to say, The sweet youth's in love.

When are you married, madam?

Hero. Why, every day;-to-morrow! Come, goin; I'll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel,

D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is melancholy.
Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?
D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which,
I hear what they say of him.

Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now

madam.

D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him; conclude, conclude, he is in love.

Urs. She's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught her, crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops.

Beat. What fire is in mine ears? can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and seorn so much?

Contempt, farewell! and, maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee;

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band:
For others say, thou dost deserve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly.

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. D. Pedro. That would I know too; I warrant, one that knows him not.

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him.

D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach.-Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobbyhorses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.

D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about

Beatrice.

[Exit. Claud. 'Tis even so: Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another, when they meet.

SCENE II.- A room in Leonato's house.
Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LEONATO.
D. Pedro. I do but stay, till your marriage be con-
summate, and then I go toward Arragon.

Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouch

safe me.

D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold

Enter Don JonN.

D. John. My lord and brother, God save you!
D. Pedro, Good den, brother!

D.John. If your leisure served, I would speak with you.
D. Pedro. In private?

D. John. If it please you:- yet count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of, concerns him. D. Pedro. What's the matter?

D. John. Means your lordship to be married to- comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man morrow?

D. Pedro. You know, he does.

[To Claudio. stand, in the prince's name.

D. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know.

Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, dis

cover it.

D. John. You may think, I love you not; let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think, he holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill-spent, and labour

ill-bestowed!

D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter?

D. John. I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long a talking of,) the lady is disloyal.

Claud. Who? Hero?

2 Watch. How ifhe will not stand?

Dogb. Why, then take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God, you are rid of a knave.

Verg. If he will not stand, when he is bidden, he is none of the prince's subjects.

Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince's subjects. -You shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable and not to be endured.

2 Watch. We will rather sleep, than talk; weknow what belongs to a watch.

Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only have a care, that your bills be not stolen! -Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid

D. John. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, those, that are drunk, get them to bed.

every man's Hero.

Claud. Disloyal?

D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not, till further warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamber-window entered; even the night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, to-morrow wedher; but it would better fit your honour to

change your mind.

Claud. May this be so?

D. Pedro. I will not think it.

D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know: if you will follow me, I will show you enough; and, when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly!

Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where should wed, there will I shame her.

Enter DOGBERRY and VERGES, with the Watch. Dogb. Are you good men and true?

Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul.

Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince's watch.

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.

Dogb. First, who think you the most desertless man to be constable?

1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for they can write and read.

Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal: God hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.

2 Watch. Both which, master constable,

2 Watch. How if they will not?

Dogb. Why, then, let them alone, till they are sober;
if they make you not then the better answer, you may
say, they are not the men you took them for.
2 Watch. Well, sir.

Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man: and, for such kind of men, theless you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty.

2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?

Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but, I think, they that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your company.

Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner.

Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; much moreaman, who hath any honesty in him.

Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it.

2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us?

Dogb. Why then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying: for the ewe, that will not hear her lamb, when it baes, will never answer a calf, when he bleats.

Verg. 'Tis very true.

Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, constable, are to present the prince's own person; if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him.

Verg. Nay, by'rlady, that, I think, he cannot. Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man that knows the statutes, he may stay him: marry, not without the prince be willing: for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will.

Verg. By'rlady, I think it be so.

Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good-night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and goodnight.-Come, neighbour!

2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then

all to-bed!

Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours: I pray

Dogb. You have; I knew, it would be your answer. you, watch about signior Leonato's door; for the wedWell, for your favour, sir, why give God thanks, ding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil toand make no boast of it; and for your writing and read- night. Adieu, be vigilant, I beseech you.

ing, let that appear, when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern! This is your charge; you shall

[Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.

Enter BORACHIO and CONRADE.

Bora. What! Conrade, -
Watch. Peace, stir not!

[Aside.

Bora. That shows, thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a

cloak, is nothing to a man.

Con. Yes, it is apparel.

Bora. I mean, the fashion.

Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.

Bora. Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. But see'st thou not, what a deformed thief this fashion is? Watch. I know that Deformed; he has been a vile thief this seven year; he goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name.

Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody?

Con. No; 'twas the vane on the house.

Best.

1 Watch. Never speak; we charge you, let us obey
you to go with us.

Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity,
being taken up of these men's bills.

Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you.-
Come, we'll obey you.

Bora. See'st thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods, between fourteen and five and-thirty? sometime, fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy painting; sometime, like god Bel's priests in the old churchwindow; sometime, like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his cod-piece seems as massy, as his club?

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. - Aroomin Leonato's house.
Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA.
Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and

desire her to rise.

Con. All this I see; and see, that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?

Urs. I will, lady.

Hero. And bid her come hither.

Bora. Not so neither: butknow, that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times goodnight.-I tell this tale vilely:-I should first tell thee, how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted, and placed, and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter.

Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero?

Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the duchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so.

Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew, she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander, that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw over-night, and send her home again without a husband.

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.

Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect
of yours: cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced with sil--
ver; set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and
skirts round, underborne with a bluish tinsel: but
for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion,
your's is worth ten on't.

Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is ex-
ceeding heavy!

1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, stand! 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable: we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery, that ever was known in the commonwealth. 1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them; I know

him, he wears a lock.

Con. Masters, masters.

Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a man. Hero. Fye upon thee! art not ashamed? Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, saving your reverence, -a husband: an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody. Is there any harm in the heavier for a husband? None, I think, an it be the right husband, and the right wife; otherwise'tis light, and not heavy. Ask my lady Beatrice else, here she comes.

Enter BEATRICE.

Hero. Good morrow, coz!
Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero!

Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in the sick tune?
Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks.
Marg. Clap us into-Light o' love; that goes with-
out a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it.
Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels!-then, if
your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall

lack no barns.

Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.

Beat. "Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you wereready. By mytroth, I am exceeding ill:-hey ho! Marg. Forahawk, ahorse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star.

Beat. What means the fool, trow?

Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!

Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume.

Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell.

Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching

of cold.

Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have

2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I you profess'd apprehension?

warrant you.

Con. Masters,

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