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could get her good will.

Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if
thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

Ant. In faith, she's too curst.
Beat. Too curst is more than curst. I shall lessen God's sending

that way, for it is said, 'God sends a curst cow short horns,'
but to a cow too curst he sends none.

Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.
Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing 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

the woollen!
Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard.

Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel and make
him my waitinggentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a

youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that
is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a

man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in
earnest of the berrord 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 horns on his head, and say 'Get you to heaven,
Beatrice, get you to heaven. Here's no place for you maids.' So

deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter--for the heavens.
He shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry

as the day is long.
Ant. [to Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be rul'd by your

father.
Beat. Yes faith. It is my cousin's duty to make cursy and say,

'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let him
be a handsome fellow, or else make another cursy, and say,

'Father, as it please me.'
Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would
it not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd with a piece of valiant

dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?
No, uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I

hold it a sin to match in my kinred.
Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you. If the Prince do solicit

you in that kind, you know your answer.
Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed

in good time. If the Prince be too important, tell him there is
measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For, hear me,

Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a
measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like

a Scotch jig--and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly
modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes

Repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace
faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.

Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight.

Leon. The revellers are ent'ring, brother. Make good room.
[Exit Antonio.]

Enter, [masked,] Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Balthasar.
[With them enter Antonio, also masked. After them enter]

Don John [and Borachio (without masks), who stand aside
and look on during the dance].

Pedro. Lady, will you walk a bout with your friend?
Hero. So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing,

I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away.
Pedro. With me in your company?

Hero. I may say so when I please.
Pedro. And when please you to say so?

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

Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove.
Hero. Why then, your visor should be thatch'd.

Pedro. Speak low if you speak love. [Takes her aside.]
Balth. Well, I would you did like me.

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

Balth. Which is one?
Marg. I say 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 sight when the dance is done!

Answer, clerk.
Balth. No more words. The clerk is answered.

[Takes her aside.]
Urs. I know you well enough. You are Signior Antonio.

Ant. At a word, I am not.
Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head.

Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
Urs. You could never do him so 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.

Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent
wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum you are he. Graces will

appear, and there's an end. [ They step aside.]
Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?

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 said
so.

Bene. What's he?
Beat. I am sure 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 jester, a very dull fool. Only his

gift is in devising impossible slanders. None but libertines
delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in

his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then
they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure 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 marked or not laugh'd at, strikes him into

melancholy; and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool
will eat no supper that night.

[Music.]
We must follow the leaders.

Bene. In every good thing.
Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next

turning.
Dance. Exeunt (all but Don 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 dissuade him from her; she is no

equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in it.
Claud. How know you he loves her?

John. I heard him swear his affection.
Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight.

John. Come, let us to the banquet.
Exeunt. Manet Claudio.

Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.

[Unmasks.]
'Tis certain so. The Prince wooes for himself.

Friendship is constant in all other things
Save in the office and affairs of love.

Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;
Let every eye negotiate for itself

And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.

This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero!

Enter Benedick [unmasked].
Bene. Count Claudio?

Claud. Yea, the same.
Bene. Come, will you go with me?

Claud. Whither?
Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, County. What

fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an
usurer'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 spoken like an honest drovier. So they sell
bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you

thus?
Claud. I pray you leave me.

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man! 'Twas the boy that
stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.

Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. Exit.
Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. But,

that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The
Prince's fool! Ha! it may be I go under that title because I am

merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so
reputed. It is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice

that puts the world into her person and so gives me out. Well,
I'll be revenged as I may.

Enter Don Pedro.
Pedro. Now, signior, where's the Count? Did you see him?

Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame, I found
him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told him, and I

think I told him true, that your Grace had got the good will of
this young lady, and I off'red him my company to a willow tree,

either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him
up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.

Pedro. To be whipt? What's his fault?
Bene. The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being overjoyed

with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals
it.

Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is
in the stealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the
garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the

rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n
his bird's nest.

Pedro. I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the owner.
Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say

honestly.
Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman that

danc'd with her told her she is much wrong'd by you.
Bene. O, she misus'd me past the endurance of a block! An oak but

with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very visor
began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not

thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that
I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such

impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark,
with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every

word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her terminations,
there were no living near her; she would infect to the North



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