Bene.
Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.
Pedro.
To be whipt, what's his fault?
Bene.
The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his companion, and he steales it.
Pedro.
Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer.
Ben.
Yet it had not been amisse the rod had beene made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest.
Pedro.
I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.
Bene.
If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say honestly.
Pedro.
The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much wrong'd by you.
Bene.
O she misusde me past the indurance of a block: an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary, and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation followes her.
Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.
Looke heere she comes.
Bene.
Will your Grace command mee any seruice to the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment for me?
Pedro.
None, but to desire your good company.
Bene.
O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure this Lady tongue. Exit.
Pedr.
Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of Signior Benedicke.
Beatr.
Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I haue lost it.
Pedro.
You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put him downe.
Beat.
So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke.
Pedro.
Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?
Claud.
Not sad my Lord.
Pedro.
How then? sicke?
Claud.
Neither, my Lord.
Beat.
The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry, nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something of a iealous complexion.
Pedro.
Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true. though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false: heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue thee ioy.
Leona.
Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace say, Amen to it.
Beatr.
Speake Count, tis your Qu.
Claud.
Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and doat vpon the exchange.
Beat.
Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kisse, and let not him speake neither.
Pedro.
In faith Lady you haue a merry heart.
Beatr.
Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare that he is in my heart.
Clau.
And so she doth coosin.
Beat.
Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner and cry, heigh ho for a husband.
Pedro.
Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat.
I would rather haue one of your fathers getting: hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.
Prince.
Will you haue me? Lady.
Beat.
No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne to speake all mirth, and no matter.
Prince.
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes you, for out of question, you were born in a merry howre.
Beatr.
No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins God giue you ioy.
Leonato.
Neece, will you looke to those things I told you of?
Beat.
I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon. Exit Beatrice.
Prince.
By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady.
Leon.
There's little of the melancholy element in her my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with laughing.
Pedro.
Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband.
Leonato.
O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers out of suite.
Prince.
She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leonato.
O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke
