Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first. D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady. Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Aside. D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Aside. [Exeunt DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO. BENEDICK advances from the Arbour. Bene. This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne: 19 -They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.-I did never think to marry.-I must not seem proud. -Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending! They say, the lady is fair-'tis a truth, I can bear them witness: and virtuous-'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me-by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage. But doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips, and sentences, and these paper-bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? No; when I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.-Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter BEATRICE. Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. Beat. I took no more pains for those 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 message ? Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal.-You have no stomach, signior; fare you well. [Exit. Bene. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you come to dinner'-there's a double meaning in that. 'I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me'-that's as much as to say, 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. : Watch. (Aside.) Some treason, masters; yet stand close.-Act III. Sc. 3. ACT III. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour; There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing with the prince and Claudio:1 Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter;-like favourites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it :-there will she hide her, To listen our propose. This is thy office, Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. Our talk must only be of Benedick: To praise him more than ever man did merit : Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter Enter BEATRICE, behind. For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; Urs. [Excit [They advance to the bower. But are you sure, Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothed lord. Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deserve All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, And therefore, certainly, it were not good Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No, nor to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable : But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, |