Hero.
Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour,
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,
&plquo;Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the Sun,
&plquo;Forbid the Sun to enter; like to Favourites,
&plquo;Made proud by Princes, that advance their pride
&plquo;Against that power that bred it:&prquo; there will she hide her,
To listen our Purpose; this is thy office,
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg.
I'll make her come, I warrant presently. [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
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
My Talk to thee must be, how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice; of this matter

Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hear-say: now begin. Enter Beatrice, running towards the Arbour.
For look, where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground to hear our conference.

Ursu.
The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait;
So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now
Is couched in the woodbine-coverture;
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero.
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.—
No, truly, Ursula, she's too disdainful;
I know, her spirits are as coy and wild
As ^{1 note}haggerds of the rock.

Ursu.
But are you sure,
That Benedick loves Beatrice so intirely?

Hero.
So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord.

Ursu.
And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?

Hero.
They did intreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrastle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Ursu.
Why did you so? doth not the Gentleman
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

Hero.
O God of love! I know, he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Mis-prizing what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak; she cannot love,

Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-indeared.

Ursu.
Sure, I think so;
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.

Hero.
Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward; &plquo;if fair-fac'd,
&plquo;She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister;
&plquo;^{2 note}
If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick,
&plquo;Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed;
&plquo;^{3 note}

Ursu.
Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.

Hero.
No; for to be so odd, and from all fashions,

As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.
But who dare tell her so? if I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly;
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling.

Ursu.
Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.

Hero.
No, rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion.
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my Cousin with; one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoison liking.

Ursu.
O, do not do your Cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment,
(Having so swift and excellent a wit,
As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Benedick.

Hero.
He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Ursu.
I pray you, be not angry with me, Madam,
Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero.
Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.

Ursu.
His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.
When are you marry'd, Madam?

Hero.
Why, every day; to morrow; come, go in,
I'll shew thee some attires, and have thy counsel
Which is the best to furnish me to morrow.

Ursu.

She's lim'd, I warant you; we have caught her, Madam.

Hero.
If it prove so, then loving goes by haps;
Some Cupids kill with arrows, Some with traps. [Exeunt.

Beatrice, advancing.

Beat.
^{4 note}What fire is in my ears? can this be true?
  Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn so much?
Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu!
  No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee;
  Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;
If thou dost love, thy kindness shall incite thee
  To bind our loves up in a holy band.
For others say, thou dost deserve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit.

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