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Boy, I am here already, Sir. Bene. I know that-but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.]I do much wonder, that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behavious to love, will, after he hath laught at fuch fhallow follies in others, become the argument of his own fcorn, by falling in love! and fuch a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no mufick with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe; I have known, when he would have walk'd ten mile afoot, to fee a good armour; and now will he lye ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man and a foldier; and now is he turn'd orthographer, his words are a very fantaftical banquet, just fo many ftrange dishes. May I be fo converted, and fee with thefe eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyfter; but I'll take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyfter of me, he fhall never make me fuch a fool: one woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wife, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But 'till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich he fhall be, that's certain; wife, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair fhall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the Prince and Monfieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdraws.


Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthazar.

Pedro. Come, fhall we hear this musick?
Claud. Yea, my good lord-how ftill the evening is,


As hufh'd on purpose to grace harmony!

Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? Claud. O very well, my lord; the mufick ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.

Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that Song again. Balth. O good my lord, tax not fo bad a voice To flander mufick any more than once.


Pedro. It is the witnefs ftill of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection;
pray thee, fing; and let me woo no more.
Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will fing
Since many a wooer doth commence his fuit
To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes;
Yet will he fwear, he loves.

Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come;

Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.

Balıb. Note this before my notes,

There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting. Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks, Note, notes, forfooth, and noting.

Bene. Now, divine air; now is his foul ravifh'd!is it not strange, that sheeps guts fhould hale fouls out of men's bodies?—well, a horn for my mony, when all's done.


Sigh no more, ladies, figh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in fea, and one on fbore,
To one thing conftant never:
Then figh not fo, but let them go,
And be you blith and benny;
Converting all your founds of woe
Into hey nony, nony.


Sing no more ditties, fing no mo
Of dumps fo dull and heavy;
The frauds of men were ever fo,
Since fummer was first leafy:
Then figh not fo, &c.

Pedro. By my troth, a good Song.
Balth. And an ill finger, my lord.

Pedro. Ha, no; no, faith; thou fing❜ft well enough for a fhift.

Bene. [afide.] If he had been a dog, that should have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him; and, I pray God, his bad voice bode no mifchief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

Pedro. Yea, marry, doft thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee get us fome excellent mufick; for to morrow night we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber-window.

Balth. The best I can, my lord. [Exit Balthazar. Pedro. Do fo: farewel. Come hither, Leonato ; what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick?

Claud. O, ay;

ftalk on, ftalk on, the fowl fits. [afide to Pedro.] I did never think that lady wouldhave loved any man.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that fhe fhould fo doat on Signior Benedick, whom the hath in all outward behaviours feem'd ever to abhor.

Bene. It's poffible, fits the wind in that corner? Afide. Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that the loves him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought.

s but that he loves him with an inraged affection, it is past the INFINITE of thought.] It is impoffible to make Senfe and Grammar of this fpeech. And the reafon is, that the two beginnings of two different fentences


are jumbled together and made one. For-but that he loves bim with an inraged affection,is only part of a lentence which fhould conclude thus,-is most certain. But a new idea ftriking the fpeaker, he leaves this fen


Pedro. May be, fhe doth but counterfeit.
Claud. Faith, like enough.

Leon. O God! counterfeit there was never coun terfeit of paffion came fo near the life of paffion, as fhe discovers it.

Pedro. Why, what effects of paffion fhews fhe?

Claud. Bait the hook well, this fish will bite. [Afide. Leon. What effects, my lord? fhe will fit you, you heard my daughter tell you how.

Claud. She did, indeed.

Pedro. How, how, I pray you? you amaze me: I would have thought, her fpirit had been invincible against all affaults of affection.

Leon. I would have fworn, it had, my lord; efpecially against Benedick.

Bene. [Afide.] I fhould think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow fpeaks it; knavery cannot, fure, hide himself in such reverence.

Claud. He hath ta'en th' infection, hold it up. [ Aside. Pedro. Hath fhe made her affection known to Benedick?

tence unfinished, and turns to
another, It is paft the infinite
of thought-which is likewife
left unfinished; for it should con-
clude thus
-to fay how great
that affection is. Thefe broken
disjointed fentences are ufual in
converfation. However there is
one word wrong, which yet per-
plexes the fenfe, and that is IN-
FINITE. Human thought can-
not surely be called infinite with
any kind of figurative propriety.
I fuppofe the true reading was
DEFINITE. This makes the
paffage intelligible. It is paft the
DEFINITE of thoughti. e.
it cannot be defined or conceived
how great that affection is. Shake
Speare ufes the word again in the
fame fenfe in Cymbeline.

For Idiots, in this case of favour, would

Be wifely DEFINITE. i. e. could tell how to pronounce or determine in the cafe. WARE.

Here are difficulties raised only to fhew how cafily they can be removed. The plain fenfe is, I know not what to think otherwife, but that she loves him with an enraged affection: It (this affection) is past the infinite of thought. Here are no abrupt ftops, or imperfect fentences. Infinite may well enough ftand; it is ufed by more careful writers for indefinite: And the fpeaker only means, that thought, though in itself unbounded, cannot reach or estimate the degree of her paffion.


Leon. No, and fwears the never will; that's her


· Claud. Tis true, indeed, fo your daughter fays: fhall I, fays fhe, that have fo oft encounter'd him with fcorn, write to him that I love him

(Leon. This fays the now, when she is beginning to write to him; for fhe'll be up twenty times a night, and there she will fit in her fmock, 'till the have writ a fheet of paper-my daughter tells us all. Claud Now you talk of a fheet of paper, ber a pretty jeft your daughter told us of


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Leon Oh when he had writ it, and was reading it over, the found Benedick and Beatrice between the fheet bab

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1. Leon, 6:0, he tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; rail'd at herself, that she should be so immodeft, to write to one that, the knew, would flour wher: Í meafure him, fays fhe, by my own Spirit, for, I fhould flout him if he writ to me love him, I fhould.

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Claud. Then down upon her knees fhe falls, weeps, fobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curfes; O fweet Benedick! God give me patience!

Leon. She doth, indeed, my daughter fays fo; and the ecftacy hath fo much overborne her, that my daughter is fometime afraid, fhe will do defperate outrage to herfelf; it is very true.

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