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I would to God, some scholar would conjure her ;
Bene. Will your grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard : do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words conference with this harpy: you have no employment
D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.
Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my lady Tongue.
(Exit. D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of signor Benedick.
Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I
gave him use2 for it, a double heart for his single
one: marry, once before, he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say, I have lost it.
D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.
Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord,
lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.
D. Pedro. Why, how now, count? wherefore are you sad?
Claud. Not sad, my lord.
Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well : but civil, count; civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.
D. Pedro. I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained : name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy!
Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and ali
grace say Amen to it! Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue. 3
Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange,
Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth
with a kiss, and let him not speak neither. D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
Beat. Yea, my lord: I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care:- My cousin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.
Claud. And so she doth, cousin.
Beat. Good lord, for alliance !--Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burned; I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho! for a husband.
9 Turn; a phrase among the players.
D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting: Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. D. Pedro. Will
have me, lady? Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days; your grace is too costly to wear every day :- But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter.
D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to . be
merry best becomes you: for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.
Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cry’d; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.—Cousins, God give you joy!
Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you
of? Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. - By your grace's pardon,
[Exit BEATRICE. D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad, but when she sleeps; and not ever sad then ; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.
D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.
Leon. O, by no means; she mocks all her wooers out of suit.
D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leon. O lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.
D. Pedro, Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?
Claud. Tomorrow, my lord: Time goes on crutches, till love have all his rites.
Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night: and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind.
D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will
, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you
direction. Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me
I ten nights' watchings.
Claud. And I, my lord.
Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband.
D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble strain, 4 of approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love withi Benedick:- and I, with your two helps, will so practice on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
Enter Don John and BORACHIO. D. John. It is so; the count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.
Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage ?
Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me.
D. John. Show me briefly how.
Bora. I think, I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero.
D. John. I remember.
Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window.
D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?
Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.
D. John. What proof shall I make of that?
Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato : Look you for any