1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them: I

know him; he wears a lock.

Con. Masters, masters,

2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.

Con. Masters,

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

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

Con. A commodity in question,1 I warrant you. Come, we 'll obey you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A room in Leonato's house.

Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA.

Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and

desire her to rise.

Urs. I will, lady.

Hero. And bid her come hither.

Urs. Well.

[Exit Urs.

Mar. Troth, I think, your other rabato? better.

were

Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. Mar. By my troth, it's not so good; and, I warrant, your cousin will say so.

A commodity subject to judicial trial or examination 2 A kind of ruff.

Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another : I'll wear none but this.

Mar. 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.

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.

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

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

Mar. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a

man.

Hero. Fie upon thee! art not ashamed?

Mar. Of what, lady? of speaking honorably? Is not marriage honorable in a beggar? Is not your lord honorable 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.

she comes.

Ask my lady Beatrice else: here

1 Head-dress.

Enter BEATRICE.

Hero. Good morrow, coz.

Bea. Good morrow, sweet Hero.

Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in the sick tune?

Bea. I am out of all other tune, methinks.

Mar. Clap us into- Light o' love;'1 that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. Bea. Yea, 'Light o' love,' with your heels!—then

if

your husband have stables enough, you'll see he

shall lack no barns.2

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

Bea. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: -heigh ho!

Mar. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?

Bea. For the letter that begins them all, H.3 Mar. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star.

Bea. What means the fool, trow?

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

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

1 The name of an old tune.

2 Quibble between barns, repositories of corn, and bairns, the old word for children.

3 i.e for an ache or pain.