die ere she makes her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one breath of her accustomed 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.3 Claud. He is a very proper man.* D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness. Claud. 'Fore 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 quarrels 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 God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece: Shall we go see 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 could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady. contemptible spirit.] i. e. contemptuous. a very proper man.] i. e. a very handsome one. 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.-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 5 was sadly borne.] i. e. was seriously carried on. 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 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. ACT III. SCENE I. Leonato's Garden. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the par lour; There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice To listen our propose: This is thy office, Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. [Exit. Is sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter 6 Proposing with the Prince and Claudio:] Proposing is conversing, from the French word-propos, discourse, talk. Enter BEATRICE, behind. For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.— [They advance to the bower. No, truly. Ursula, she is too disdainful; 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: But nature never fram'd a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice: Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, |