comes Beatrice: by this day, fhe's a fair lady; I do fpy fome marks of love in her.

Enter Beatrice.

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

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

Beat. I took no more pains for thofe thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleasure then in the meffage.

Beat. Yea, juft fo much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no ftomach, Signior; fare you well. [Exit. Bene. Ha! against my will I am fent to bid you come in to dinner :- -there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for thofe thanks, than you took pains to thank me; that's as much as to fay, 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. [Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE continues in the Orchard.

Enter Hero, Margaret and Urfula.

HERO.

OOD Margaret, run thee into the parlour,
There fhalt thou find my Cousin Beatrice,
Propofing with the Prince and Claudio;
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Urfula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole difcourfe
Is all of her; fay, that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached Bower,
Where honey-fuckles, ripen'd by the Sun,

Forbid the Sun to enter; like to Favourites,
Made proud by Princes, that advance their pride
Against that
power that bred it: there will fhe hide her,
To liften our Propofe; this is thy office,

Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant, prefently. [Exit.
Hero. Now, Urfula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,

Our Talk muft only be of Benedick;
When I do name him, let it be thy Part
To praife him more than ever man did merit.
My Talk to thee must be how Benedick
Is fick in love with Beatrice; of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,

That only wounds by hear-fay: now begin.

Enter Beatrice, running towards the Arbour.
For look, where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Clofe by the ground to hear our conference.
Urfu. The pleafant'ft angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the filver ftream,
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 lofe nothing
Of the falfe fweet bait that we lay for it.-
No, truly, Urfula, fhe's too difdainful;

I know, her fpirits are as coy and wild,
As haggerds of the rock.

Urjula. But are you fure,

That Benedick loves Beatrice fo intirely?

Hero. So fays the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. Urfu. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam ? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it; But I perfuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, To with him wraftle with affection,

And never to let Beatrice know it.

Urfu. Why did you fo? doth not the Gentleman Deferve as full, as fortunate a bed,

As

As ever Beatrice fhall couch upon;

Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deferve
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.
Difdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Mif-prizing what they look on; and her wit
Values itself fo highly, that to her

All matter else feems weak; fhe cannot love,
Nor take no fhape nor project of affection,
She is fo felf-indeared.

Urfu. Sure, I think fo;

And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, left she make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet faw man, How wife, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, But she would fpel him backward; if fair-fac'd, (12) She'd fwear, the gentleman fhould be her fifter; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill-headed; If low, an Aglet very vilely cut; (13)

(12)

if fair-fac'd,

She'd fwear, the gentleman should be ber fifter;
If black, why nature drawing of an antick,

Made a foul blet; if tall, a lance ill-headed; &c.

If

Some of the editors have pretended, that our author never imitates any paffages of the ancients. Methinks, this is fo very like a remarkable defcription in Lucretius; (lib. iv. verf. 1154, &c.) that I can't help fufpecting, Shakespeare had it in view; the only difference feems to be, that the Latin poet's characteristics turn upon Praife; our countryman's, upon the hinge of Derogation.

Nigra uenixpo eft; immunda & fœtida, änosμ•
Caelia, παλλάδιον nervafa & lignea, δορκάς.

Parvola, pumilio, xapirav mía, tota merum Sal:

Magna atque immanis, naláπrnğıs, plenaque bonoris.

(13) If low, an Ágat very vilely cut; ] But why an Agat, if low? And what fhadow of likeness between a little man and an Agat? The ancients, indeed, ufed this ftone to cut in, and upon; but most exquifitely. I make no queftion, but the poet wrote;

an Aglet very vilely cut;

An Aglet was the tagg of those points, formerly fo much in fashion. These taggs were either of gold, filver, or brafs, according to the

quality

If fpeaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If filent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns the every man the wrong fide out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that,
Which fimplenefs and merit purchaseth.

Urfu. Sure, fure, fuch carping is not commendable. Hero. No; for to be fo odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,

But who dare tell her fo? if I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, fhe would laugh me
Out of myself, prefs me to death with wit.
- Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Confume away in fighs, wafte inwardly;
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as 'tis to die with tickling.
Urfu. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
Hero. No, rather I will go to Benedick,
And counfel him to fight against his paffion,
And, truly, I'll devife fome honeft flanders
To ftain my Coufin with; one doth not know,
How much an ill-word may impoifon liking.

Urfu. O, do not do your Cousin fuch a wrong,
She cannot be fo much without true judgment,
(Having fo fwift and excellent a wit,

quality of the wearer; and were commonly in the fhape of little images; or at least had a head cut at the extremity, as is feen at the end of the ftart of old-fashion'd spoons. And as a tall man is before compar'd to a Launce ill-beaded; fo, by the fame figure, a little man is very aptly liken'd to an Aglet ill-cut. Mr. Warburton. I'll fubjoin a few paffages in confirmation of my friend's beautiful conjecture.

Taming of the Shrew.

Why, give him Gold enough, and marry bim to a Puppet, or an Aglet-baby, &c.

The Two Noble Kinmen of Beaumont and Fletcher;

I'm very cold; and all the stars are out too,

The little fars, and all; that look like Aglets.

And Sir John Harrington, in his tranflation of Ariofio's Orlando

Furiofo. Book V. St. 47.

The gown I ware was white, and richly fet

With Aglets, pearl, and lace of gold well garnish'd:
My ftately treffes cover'd with a net

Of beaten gold, most pure and brightly varnish'd, &c.

As

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.

Urfu. I pray you, be not angry with me, Madam, Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick,

For fhape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urfu. 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 fhew thee fome attires, and have thy counfel Which is the beft to furnish me to-morrow.

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

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

Beat. What fire is in my ears ? can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for Pride and Scorn fo much?
Contempt, farewel! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of fuch.
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee;

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;
If thou dost love, my kindness fhall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band.
For others fay, thou doft deferve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly.

I

SCENE, Leonato's Houfe.

[Exit.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato. Pedro. Do but ftay 'till your marriage be confummate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. I'll bring you thither my lord, if you'll vouchfafe me.

Pedro. Nay, That would be as great a foil in the new glofs of your marriage, as to fhew a child his new coat

and