Ant.
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself;
And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief
Against yourself.

Leo.
I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve: give not me counsel;
Nor let no comforter delight ^note mine ear,
But such a one whose wrongs do suit ^note with mine:
Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,
And bid him speak of patience;
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
And let it answer every strain for strain;

As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape and form:
If such a one will smile, and stroak his beard;
Bid sorrow, wag; ^note14Q0178 cry, hem! when he should groan;
Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk
With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.
But there is no such man: For, brother, men
Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medecine to rage,
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ach with air, and agony with words:
No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow;
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency,
To be so moral, when he shall endure
The like himself: therefore give me no counsel;
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

Ant.
Therein do men from children nothing differ.

Leo.
I pray thee, peace; I will be flesh and blood;
For there was never yet philosopher,
That could endure the tooth-ach patiently;
However they have writ the stile of gods,
And made a pish at ^note chance and sufferance.

Ant.
Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself;
Make those, that do offend you, suffer too.

Leo.
There thou speak'st reason: nay, I will do so:
My soul doth tell me, Hero is bely'd;
And that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince,
And all of them that thus dishonour her.

Ant.
Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily. Enter D. Pedro, and Claudio.

D. Pe.
Good den, good den.

Cla.
Good day to both of you.

Leo.
Hear you, my lords,—

D. Pe.
We have some haste, Leonato.

Leo.
Some haste, my lord!—well, fare you well, my lord:—
Are you so hasty now?—well, all is one.

D. Pe.
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.

Ant.
If he could right himself ^note with quarreling,
Some of us would lye low.

Cla.
Who wrongs him, sir?

Leo.
Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou:—
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword,
I fear thee not.

Cla.
Marry, beshrew my hand,
If it should give your age such cause of fear:
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.

Leo.
Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me;
I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool;
As, under priviledge of age, to brag
What I have done being young, or what would do
Were I not old: Know, Claudio, to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent ^note child, and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by;
And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.
I say, thou hast bely'd mine innocent child;
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lies bury'd with her ancestors:
O! in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany.

Cla.
My villany?

Leo.
Thine, Claudio, thine, I say.

D. Pe.
You say not right, old man.

Leo.
My lord, my lord,
I'll prove it on his body, if he dare;
Despight his nice fence, and his active practice,
His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood.

Cla.
Away, I will not have to do with you.

Leo.
Can'st thou so daffe me? Thou hast kill'd my child,
If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.

Ant.
He shall kill two of us, and men indeed:
But that's no matter; let him kill one first,—
Win me, and wear me,—let him answer me:—
Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, follow me ^note:
Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foyning fence;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Leo.
Brother,—

Ant.
Content yourself: God knows, I lov'd my niece;
And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains;
That dare as well answer a man indeed,
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue:
Boys, apes, braggárts, Jacks, ^note milk-sops,—

Leo.
Brother Antony,—

Ant.
Hold you content; What, man! I know them; yea,
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple:
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring ^note boys,
That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander,
Go antickly, and shew ^note outward hideousness,
And speak off half ^note a dozen dangerous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst,
And this is all.

Leo.
But, brother Antony,—

Ant.
Come, 'tis no matter;
Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.

D. Pe.
Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.—14Q0179
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death;
But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing
But what ^note was true, and very full of proof.

Leo.
My lord, my lord,—

D. Pe.
I will not hear you.

Leo.
No?—
Come, brother, away:—I will be heard:

Ant.
And shall,
Or some of us will smart for it. [Exeunt Leonato, and Antonio.

D. Pe.
See, see,
Here comes the man we went to seek. Enter Benedick.

Cla.
Now, signior!
What news?

Ben.
Good day, my lord. [to D. Pedro.

D. Pe.
Welcome signior:
You are almost come to part almost a fray.

Cla.

We had like to ^note have had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth.

D. Pe.

Leonato, and his brother: What think'st thou? had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.

Ben.

In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both.

Cla.

We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away: Wilt thou use thy wit?

Ben.

It is in my scabbard; Shall I draw it?

D. Pe.

Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?

Cla.

Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit.—I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.

D. Pe.

As I am an honest man, he looks pale:— Art thou sick, or angry?

Cla.

What! courage, man! What, though care kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Ben.

Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me; I pray you, choose another subject.

Cla.

Nay, then give him another staff14Q0180; this last was broke cross.

D. Pe.

By this light, he changes more and more; I think, he be angry indeed.

Cla.

If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.

Ben.

Shall I speak a word in your ear?

Cla.

God bless me from a challenge!

Ben.

You are a villain;—I jest not;—I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice: You have kill'd a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you: Let me hear from you.

Cla.

Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

D. Pe.

What, a feast? a feast? ^note

Cla.

I' faith, ^note I thank him; he hath bid me to a calves-head, and a cap-on; the which if I do not carve most curiously, say, my knife's naught.—Shall I not find a woodcock too?

Ben.

Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.

D. Pe.

I'll tell thee, how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I said, thou had'st a fine wit; True,

says she, ^note a fine little one; No, said I, a great wit; Right, says she, a great gross one; Nay, said I, a good wit; Just, said she, it hurts no body; Nay, said I, the gentleman is wise; Certain, said she, a wise gentleman; Nay, said I, he hath the tongues; That I believe, said she; for he swore a thing to me on monday night, which he forswore on tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two ^note tongues: Thus did she, an hour together, trans-shape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.

Cla.

For the which she wept heartily, and said, she car'd not.

D. Pe.

Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly: the old man's daughter told us all.

Cla.

All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.

D. Pe.

But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head?

Cla.

Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the marry'd man.

Ben.

Fare you well, boy; you know my mind; I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests at braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not.—My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you; I must discontinue your company: your brother the bastard is fled from Messina; you have, among you, kill'd a sweet and innocent lady: For my lord Lack-beard there, he and I shall meet; and 'till then, peace be with him.

D. Pe.

He is in earnest.

Cla.

In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.

D. Pe.

And hath challeng'd thee?

Cla.

Most sincerely.

D. Pe.

What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!