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

Balth. Well, I would, you did like me. 2

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

Bath. Which is one?

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! Anfwer, Clerk.

Balth. No more words, i e. that your Face should be as homely and as coarfe as your Mask. Upon this, Don Pedro compares his Vitor 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 & canna teña
paluftri.

But why, Within the Houfe is
Love Though this old Pair
lived in a Cottage, this Cottage
received two fraggling Gods,
(Jupiter and Mercury,) under its
Roof. So, Don Pedro is a Prince;
and though his Vifor is but or-
dinary, he would infinuate to
Hero, that he has fomething god-
like within alluding either to
his Dignity, or the Qualities of
his Perion 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.

This emendation, thus im preffed with all the power of his eloquence and reafon, Theobald had in the 4th edition of 1600, which he profeffes to have feen.

2 Balth. Wel; 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 Bencdick. But, 'tis clear, the Dialogue here ought to be betwixt Balthazar, and Margaret: Benedick, a little lower, converfes with Beatrice and fo every Man talks with his Woman once round. THEOBALD.

Urf.

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 itself? 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.

3

Beat. That I was difdainful, 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, only 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 fay.

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.

Bene. In every good thing.

[Mufick within.

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

SCENE III.

Manent John, Borachio, and Claudio.

[Exeunt.

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, she 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 Bora. Claud. Thus anfwer I in name of Benedick, But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain fo-the Prince wooes for himself.

Friend

Friendship is conflant 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; beauty is a witch,

Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.

This is an accident of hourly proof,

Which I mistrusted 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 business, 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 so 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 fowl! now will he creep into fedges. But, that my Lady Beatrice fhould know me, and not know me! the Prince's fooi !-ha? it may be, I go under that Title, because I am merry

- Ulurer's chain?] I know not whether the chain was, in our authour's time, the common ornament of wealthy citi

O 2

zens, or whether he fatirically ufes ufurer and alderman as fynonymous terms.

yea,

yea, but fo I am apt to do myself 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.

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, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's neft, fhews it his companion, and he fteals it.

Pedro. Wilt thou make a truft, a tranfgreffion? the tranfgreffion is in the ftealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been amifs, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himfelf, and the rod he might have be ftow'd on you, who (as I take it) have ftol'n his bird's neft.

Pedro. I will but teach them to fing, and reftore them to the owner.

7 It is the bafe, tho' bitter, difpofition of Beatrice, who puts the world into her perfon.] That is, it is the difpofition of Beatrice, wha tokes upon her to perfonate the world, and therefore represents the world as faying what the only fays

herself.

Bafe tko bitter. I do not understand how base and bitter are inconfiftent, or why what is bir ter fhould not be baje. I believe we may fafely read, it is the bajt, the bitter difpofition.

Bene