Claud.
For this I owe you; here come other recknings.
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 dy'd defil'd, but I do live;
And, surely, as I live, I am a maid.

Pedro.
The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!

Leon.
She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.

Friar.
All this amazement can I qualifie.
When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chappel let us presently.

Bene.
Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?

Beat.
I answer to that name; what is your will?

Bene.
Do not you love me?

Beat.
Why, no, no more than reason.

Bene.

Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did.

Beat.
Do not you love me?

Bene.
Troth, no, no more than reason.

Beat.
Why, then my Cousin, Margaret and Ursula,
Have been deceiv'd; for they did swear, you did.

Bene.
They swore, you were almost sick for me.

Beat.
They swore, you were well-nigh dead for me.

Bene.
'Tis no matter; then you do not love me?

Beat.
No, truly, but in friendly recompence.

Leon.
Come, Cousin, I am sure, you love the gentleman.

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.

Hero.
And here's another,
Writ in my Cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene.

A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

Beat.

^{2 note}I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save

your life; for as I was told, you were in a consumption.

Bene.

Peace, I will stop your mouth.—

Pedro.

How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

Bene.

I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of witcrackers 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; for thy part, 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 cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene.

Come, come, we are friends; let's have a Dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels.

Leon.

We'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene.

First, o' my word; therefore, play, musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn.

Enter Messenger.

Mess.
My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
And brought with armed men back to Messina.

Bene.

Think not on him 'till to morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, Pipers.

THE MERCHANT OF

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