Beatr. Very ill.

Bened. And how do you?

Beatr. Very ill too.

Bened. Serve Heaven, love me, and mend. Here comes one in haste.

Enter URSULA.

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone.

[Exit URSULA. Beatr. Will you go hear this news, signior? Bened. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy heart; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Room in LEONATO's House.

Enter LEONATO, HERO, FRIAR, ANTONIO, BEneDICK, BEATRICE, URSULA, and other LADIES.

Friar. Did not I tell you she was innocent? Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her,

Upon the error that you heard debated:

But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears.

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
Bened. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,

Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves;
And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd:
The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To visit me :-You know your office, brother;
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.

Ant. Which I will do with a confirm'd countenance.
Bened. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.
Friar. To do what, signior?

Bened. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.-
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'tis most

true.

Bened. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from me, From Claudio and the prince: But what's your will? Bened. 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 estate of honourable marriage ;—
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
your liking.

Leon. My heart is with

Friar. And my help.

Here comes the prince, and Claudio.

Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO.

Leon. We here attend

determined

you: Are you yet To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother: Here's the friar ready. [Exit ANTONIO. 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 gold,

And all our Europe shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bened. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low:

And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow,
And got a calf in that same noble feat,

Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
Oh, here they come !

Enter ANTONIO, with HERO, BEATRICE, URSULA, and other LADIES masked.

Claud. Which is the lady I must seize upon?
Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her.
Claud. Why then she's mine; Sweet, let me see
your face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand

Before this friar, and swear to marry her.

Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar; I am your husband, if you like of me.

Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife

;

[Unmasking.

And when you lov'd, you were my other husband.

Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer:

One Hero died defil'd, but I do live,

And, surely as I live, I am innocent.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead! Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.

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:
Mean time, let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.

Bened. Soft and fair, Friar.-Which is Beatrice?

Beatr. I answer to that name;

[BEATRICE and the other LADIES unmask.

What is your will?

Bened. Do not you love me?

Beatr: No, no more than reason.

Bened. Why, then, your uncle, and the prince, and
Claudio,

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

Bened. No, no more than reason.

Beatr. Why, then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ur sula,

Are much deceiv'd, for they did swear, you did. Bened. They swore, that you were almost sick for

me.

Beatr. They swore, that you were well nigh dead for me.

Bencd. 'Tis no such matter:-Then, you do not
love me?

Beatr. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentle.

man.

Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice.

[Gives the Paper to BEATRICE.

Hero. And here's another,

Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick.

[Gives the Paper to BENEDICK. Bened. A miracle!-here's our own hands against our hearts!-Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity!

Beatr. 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.

H

Bened. Peace, I will stop your mouth.

Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? Bened. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of wit crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my

- cousin.

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

Bened. Come, come, we are friends--Prince, thou art sad.

Pedro. Yes, I've got the tooth-ache.

Bened. Got the tooth-ache!-Get thee a wife; and all will be well.-Nay, laugh not, laugh not :

Your gibes and mockeries I laugh to scorn: No staff more rev'rend, than one tipt with horn. [Exeunt omnes.

THE END.