she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one breath of her accustom'd crossness. D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make . tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. + Claud, He is a very proper man. D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. Claud. Tore God, and in my mind, very wise. D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are like wit. Leon. And I take him to be valiant. D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quatrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most christian-like fear. Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace'; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.. D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear Ged, howsoever it seems by some large jests he will make. not in him, Well, I am sorry for your niece: Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love? Claud. Never tell him, my Lord; let her wear it out with good counsel. 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 conld 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 rot dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Aside. 4 D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentle woman 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. 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 mend ing. 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 By my troth, it is no addition to her nor no great argument of her folly, for me: wit; I may I will be horribly in love with her. chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd 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: The world must be peopled. 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 in 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. A CT III. SCENE I. LEONATO's Garden. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour; Against that power that bred it: there will To listen our propose: This is thy office, [Exit. Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick: When I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit: My talk to thee must be, how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin; Enter BEATRICE, behind. For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear loše nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. [They advance to the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; I know, her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. Urs. But are you sure, That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ? Hero. So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it: But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentle man Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: |