A due sincerity govern'd his deeds,

Till he did look on me; since it is so,

Let him not die: My brother had but justice,
In that he did the thing for which he died:

For Angelo,

His act did not o'ertake his bad intent;

And must be buried but as an intent

That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects;
Intents but merely thoughts.

Mari. Merely, my lord.

Duke. Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say

I have bethought me of another fault:

Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded
At an unusual hour ?

Prov. It was commanded so.

Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed? Prov. No, my good lord; it was by private message. Duke. For which I do discharge you of your office: Give up your keys.

Prov. Pardon me, noble lord:

I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;
Yet did repent me, after more advice:*
For testimony whereof, one in the prison
That should by private order else have died,
I have reserved alive.

Duke. What's he?

Prov. His name is Barnardine.

Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.
Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him.

Escal. I am sorry, one so learned and so wise
As you, lord Angelo, have still appear'd,
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood,
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.

Ang. I am sorry, that such sorrow I procure:
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy :

'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.

[Exit PROVOST.

Re-enter PROVOST, BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO, and JULIET. Duke. Which is that Barnardine ?

Prov. This, my lord.

Duke. There was a friar told me of this man :-

Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul,

That apprehends no further than this world,

And squar'st thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd

But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all;
And pray thee, take this mercy to provide

For better times to come :- -Friar, advise him;

I leave him to your hand.-What muffled fellow's that?
Prov. This is another prisoner, that I saved,

That should have died when Claudio lost his head;

As like almost to Claudio, as himself.

* Consideration.

[Unmufles CLAUDIO.

Duke. If he be like your brother, for his sake, [To ISABELLA

Is he pardon'd; And, for your lovely sake,

Give me your hand, and say you will be mine,

He is my brother too: But fitter time for that.
By this, lord Angelo perceives he's safe;
Methinks, I see a quick'ning in his eye:-
Well, Angelo, your evil quits* you well:

Look that you love your wife; her worth, worth yours.

I find an apt remission in myself:

And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon ;

You, sirrah [to LUCIO], that knew me for a fool, a coward,
One all of luxury,† an ass, a madman;

Wherein have I so deserved of you,

That you extol me thus?

Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick: If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would lease you, I might be whipp'd.

Duke. Whipp'd first, Sir, and hang'd after.-
Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city;
If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow
(As I have heard him swear himself, there's one
Whom he begot with child), let her appear,
And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd,
Let him be whipp'd and hang'd.

Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore! Your highness said, even now, I made you a duke; good my lord, do not recompense me, in making me a cuckold.

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.

Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal

Remit thy other forfeits :§-Take him to prison;

And see our pleasure herein executed.

Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whip

ping, and hanging.

Duke. Sland'ring a prince deserves it.—

She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore.—

Joy to you, Mariana!-love her, Angelo;

I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue.

Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness:
There's more behind that is more gratulate.||
Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrecy;
We shall employ thee in a worthier place:-
Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's;
The offence pardons itself.-Dear Isabel,
I have a motion much imports your good;
Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline,

What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine:-
So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show

What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know.

[Exeunt.

+ Thoughtless practice. To reward.

SCENE I-Before LEONATO's House.

Enter LEONATO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others, with a
MESSENGER.

Leon. I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina.

Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him.

Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action ?
Mess. But few of any sort,* and none of name.

Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don Pedro has bestow'd much honour on a young Florentine, called Claudio.

Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro: He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better bettered expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how.

Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it.

Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness.

Leon. Did he break out into tears?

Mess. In great measure.*

Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: There are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping.

Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto returned from the wars, or no?

Mess. I know none of that name, lady; there was none such in the army of any sort.

Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?

Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of Padua.

Mess. O, he is returned; and as pleasant as ever he was.

Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and challenged Cupid at the flight and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the bird-bolt.-Í pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing.

Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.

Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.

Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it: he is a very valiant trencherman, he hath an excellent stomach. Mess. And a good soldier too, lady.

Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ;-But what is he to a lord? Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honourable virtues.

Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed§ man: but for the stuffing,-Well, we are all mortal.

Leon. You must not, Sir, mistake my niece: there is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick and her; they never meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them.

Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature.-Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.

Mess. Is it possible?

Beat. Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block.!!

Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. Beat. No: an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer that will make a voyage with him to the devil?

now,

Quarrelsome fellow.

Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. Beat. O Lord! he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio; if he hath caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady.

Beat. Do, good friend.

Leon. You will never run mad, niece.

Beat. No, not till a hot January.

Mess. Don Pedro is approached.

Enter DON PEDRO, attended by BALTHAZAR and others, DON JOHN, CLAUDIO, and BENEDICK.

D. Pedro. Good signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.

Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your grace for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but, when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave.

D. Pedro. You embrace your charge* too willingly.—I think, this is your daughter.

Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so.

Bene. Were you in doubt, Sir, that you asked her?

Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.

D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers herself:-Be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father.

Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders, for all Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedick; nobody marks you.

Bene. What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living? Beat. Is it possible, disdain should die, while she hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.

Bene. Then is courtesy a turn-coat-But it is certain, I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none.

Beat. A dear happiness to women; they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.

Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were.

Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.

Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of yours. Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue; and sc

* Trust.