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Bora. Mass, and my elbow itch'd; I thought, there would a scab follow.
Conr. I will owe thee an answer for that, and now forward with thy tale.
Bora. Stand thee close then under this pent-house, for it drizles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.
Watcb. Some treason, masters; yet stand close.
Bara. Therefore know, I have earned of don John a thousand ducats.
Conr. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?
Bara. Thou should'st rather all: if it were possible any villany should be so rich? for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will.
Conr. I wonder at it.
Bora. That shows thou art unconsirm'd; thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak is nothing to a man.
Conr. Yes, it is apparel.
Bora. I mean the fashion.
Conr. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.
Bora. Tush, I may as well say the fool's the fool; but seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is?
Watcb. I know that'Deformed; he has been a vile thief this seven years; he goes up and down like a gentleman : I remember his name.
Bora. Didst thou not hear some body?
Conr. No, 'twas the vane on the house.
Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is, how giddily he turns about all the hot-bloods between fourteen
' Meaning Sampson.
fashion, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ?
Bora. Not so neither; but know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; (he leans me out at her mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night -I tell this tale vilely-I should first tell thee, how the prince, Claudio, and my master, planted, and plac'd, and possessed by my master don John, saw far off in the orchard this amiable encounter.
Conr. And thought thy Margaret was Hero ? *
Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio, but the devil my master knew she was Margaret ; and partly by his oaths, which first possess'd them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by m-y villany, which did confirm any slan'der that don j'obn had made, away went Claudio enraged ; swore he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the temple, and there, before the Whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again without a husband.
I Watc/y. We charge you in the lprinee's name stand.
2 Watct. Call up the right ma er constable; we have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was. known in the common-wealth.
I Wateb. And one Des'ormed is one of them; I know him, he wears a lock.
Coma Masters, masters,
2 Watc/J. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant' ou.
y Conr. Masters, -.
I Wate/B. Never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to gowith us.
Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these mens bills.
Conr. A commodity in question, I warrant you :. come, we'll; obey you. [Exeunt..
her to rise.
Urs. -I will, lady.,
Hero. And bid her come hither.
Uis Well. - ' [Exit.
Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato were-better.
Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this,
Marg. By my troth, it's not so good, and, Iwarrant, your cousin will say so. '
Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another: I'll wear none but this. "
Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i' faith. I saw the dutchess of Mi/an's gown that they praise so.
Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.
Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in respect of yours ; cloth of gold, and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls down-sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts round, underborn with a blueish tinsel ; but for a fine, queint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't.
Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy! , _
Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.
Hero. Fie upon thee! art not asham'd?
Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably ? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think, you would have me say (saving your reverence) a husband. If bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend no body: is there any harm in the heavier for a
Her-0. Good morrow, coz.
Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero.
Hero, Why, how now! do you speak in the sick tune?
Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. ' þ
Marg. Clap us into Lzlgbt o' love; that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it.
Beat. Yes, Light 0' lofve with your heels l then is your husband have stables enough, you'll look he shall lack no barns.
Marg. O illegitimate constructionl I scorn that with my heels.
Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready: by my troth, I am exceeding ill: hey hol
Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. t
Marg. Well, is you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing
Beat. What means the fool, trow?
Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume.
Beat. Benedict'as/ why Benedictur P you have some moral in this Benedictar. si
Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle; you may think, perchance, that I think you are in love; nay, birlady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out with thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love: -- yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man : he swore, he would never marry; and yet now, in despite 'of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging: and how you
may be converted I know not; but, methinks, you look with
your eyes as other women do.
i Urs Madam,withdraw ; the prince, the count, signiorBenedici,
don jobn, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church.
Leon. _ H AT would you with me, honest neighbour? Dogb. Marry, s1r, I would have some, confidence with you that decerns you nearly.
Leon. Brief, I pray you, for you see 'tis a busy time with me.
Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir.
Verg. Yes, in truth, it is, sir.
Leon. What is it, my good fn'ends?
Dogb. Goodman Verges, fir, speaks a little of the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, god help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, as honest as the ikin between his brows. . Verg.