Margaret, meeting.
Ben.
Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well
at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.
Mar.
Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of
my beauty?
Ben.
In so high a stile, Margaret, that no man living
shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou
deservest it.
Mar.
To have no man come over me? why, shall I
always keep above stairs note?14Q0182
Ben.
Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth,
it catches.
Mar.
And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which
-- 83 --
hit, but hurt not.
Ben.
A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt
a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give
thee the bucklers.
Mar.
Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own.
Ben.
If you use them, Margaret, you must put in
the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons
for maids.
Mar.
Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think,
hath legs.
[Exit Margaret.
Ben.
And therefore will come.—
The god of love,
[singing.
that fits above,
and knows me, and knows me,
how pitiful I deserve,—
I mean, in singing; but in loving,—Leander the good
swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a
whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers,
whose names note yet run smoothly in the even road of a
blank verse, why, they were never so truly turn'd over
and over, note as my poor self, in love: Marry, I cannot shew
it in rime; note I have try'd; I can find out no rime to lady,
but bady, note an innocent's rime; for scorn, horn, a hard
rime; for school, fool, a babbling rime; very ominous
endings: No, I was not born under a riming planet;
nor I note cannot woo in festival terms.—
Enter Beatrice.
Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call'd thee?
Bea.
Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.
Ben.
O, stay but 'till then!
Bea.
Then, is spoken; fare you well now:—and
yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is,
-- 84 --
with knowing what hath pass'd between you and Claudio.
Ben.
Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.
Bea.
Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is
but foul breath, and foul breath is noysome; therefore
I will depart unkist.
Ben.
Thou hast frighted the word out of his right
sense, so forcible is thy wit: But I must tell thee plainly,
Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must
shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward.
And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad
parts did'st thou first fall in love with me?
Bea.
For them all together; which maintain'd note so
politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any
good part to intermingle with them. But for which of
my good parts did you first suffer love for me?
Ben.
Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love,
indeed, for I love thee against my will.
Bea.
In spight of your heart, I think; alas, poor
heart! If you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for
yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.
Ben.
Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
Bea.
It appears not in this confession; there's not
one wise man among twenty, that will praise himself.
Ben.
An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd
in the time of good neighbours: if a man do not erect
in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no
longer in monument, note than the bell rings, and the
widow weeps.
Bea.
And how long is that, think you?
Ben.
Question? Why, an hour in clamour, and a
quarter in rheum: Therefore is it most expedient for
the wise, (if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment
-- 85 --
to the contrary) to be the trumpet of his
own virtues, as I am to myself: So much for praising
myself, (who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy)
and now tell me, How doth your cousin?
Bea.
Very ill.
Ben.
And how do you?
Bea.
Very ill too.
Ben.
Serve God, love me, and mend: there will I
leave you too, for here comes one in haste.
Enter Ursula.
Urs.
Madam, you must come to your uncle: yonder's
old coil at home: it is proved my lady Hero hath
been falsely accus'd, the prince and Claudio mightily
abus'd; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled
and gone: Will you come presently?
Bea.
Will you go hear this news, signior?
Ben.
I will live in thy heart, dye in thy lap, and be
bury'd in thy eyes; and, moreover, I will go with thee
to thy uncle. note
[Exeunt.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
