she will die, if he woo her, rather than she
will bate one breath of her accustomed

crossness.

D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he 'll 200 scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

Claud. He is a very proper man.

D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness.

Claud. Before God! and in my mind, very wise.

D. Pedro. He doth indeed show some, sparks
that are like wit.

Claud. And I take him to be valiant.
D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the
managing of quarrels you may say he is
wise; for either he avoids them with great
discretion, or undertakes them with a most
Christian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, a' must necessarily
keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought
to enter into a quarrel with fear and trem-
bling.

210

D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth 220 fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love?

200. "make tender of"; offer.-C. H. H.

204. "good outward happiness"; attractive form and features.— C. H. H.

Claud. Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel.

Leon. Nay, that's impossible: she may wear her heart out first.

D. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by

your daughter: let it cool the while. I love 230
Benedick well; and I could wish he would
modestly examine himself, to see how much
he is unworthy so good a lady.

Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will

never trust my expectation.

D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's 240 dotage, and no such matter: that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb-show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.

[Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato. Bene. [Coming forward] This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they 250 say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that

hear their detractions, and can put them to
mending. They say the lady is fair,-'tis
a truth, I can bear them witness; and vir-
tuous, 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise,
but for loving me,-by my troth, it is no 260
addition to her wit, nor no great argument
of her folly, for I will be horribly in love
with her. I may chance have some odd
quirks and remnants of wit broken on me,
because I have railed so long against mar-
riage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man
loves the meat in his youth that he cannot en-
dure in his age. Shall quips and sentences
and these paper bullets of the brain awe a
man from the career of his humor? No, the 270
world must be peopled. When I said I
would die a bachelor, I did not think I
should live till I were married. Here comes
Beatrice. By this day! she's a fair lady: I
do spy some marks of love in her.

Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks 280 than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come. Bene. You take pleasure, then, in the message? Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal.

You have no stomach, signior: fare

you well.
[Exit.

Bene. Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner;' there's a double meaning in that. 'I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank 290 me;' that's as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture.

XIX-4

[Exit.

ACT THIRD

SCENE I

Leonato's orchard.

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula

Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter; like favorites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their
pride
Against that power that bred it: there will she
hide her,

To listen our propose. This is thy office;

Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you,

presently.

10

[Exit.

Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick.
When I do name him, let it be thy part