Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought.

Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.

Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine.

Claud. That I love her, I feel.

Pedro. That she is worthy, I know.

  Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she
    should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me.
    I will die in it at the stake.

  Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of
    beauty.

  Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his
    will.

Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will have a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is (for the which I may go the finer), I will live a bachelor.

Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.

Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with love. Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of blind Cupid.

Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.

  Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me; and
    he that hits me, let him be clapp'd on the shoulder and call'd
    Adam.

  Pedro. Well, as time shall try.
    'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.'

  Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear
    it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead, and
    let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write
    'Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign
    'Here you may see Benedick the married man.'

Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad.

Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.

Bene. I look for an earthquake too then.

Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made great preparation.

Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and so I commit you—

Claud. To the tuition of God. From my house—if I had it—

Pedro. The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick.

Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither. Ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience. And so I leave you. Exit.

Claud. My liege, your Highness now may do me good.

  Pedro. My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how,
    And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
    Any hard lesson that may do thee good.

Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord?

  Pedro. No child but Hero; she's his only heir.
    Dost thou affect her, Claudio?

  Claud.O my lord,
    When you went onward on this ended action,
    I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,
    That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand
    Than to drive liking to the name of love;
    But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts
    Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
    Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
    All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
    Saying I lik'd her ere I went to wars.

  Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently
    And tire the hearer with a book of words.
    If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,
    And I will break with her and with her father,
    And thou shalt have her. Wast not to this end
    That thou began'st to twist so fine a story?

  Claud. How sweetly you do minister to love,
    That know love's grief by his complexion!
    But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
    I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise.

  Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
    The fairest grant is the necessity.
    Look, what will serve is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest,
    And I will fit thee with the remedy.
    I know we shall have revelling to-night.
    I will assume thy part in some disguise
    And tell fair Hero I am Claudio,
    And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart
    And take her hearing prisoner with the force
    And strong encounter of my amorous tale.
    Then after to her father will I break,
    And the conclusion is, she shall be thine.
    In practice let us put it presently. Exeunt.

Scene II. A room in Leonato's house.

Enter [at one door] Leonato and [at another door, Antonio] an old man, brother to Leonato.

  Leon. How now, brother? Where is my cousin your son? Hath he
    provided this music?

  Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange
    news that you yet dreamt not of.

Leon. Are they good?

Ant. As the event stamps them; but they have a good cover, they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine: the Prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top and instantly break with you of it.

Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?

Ant. A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him yourself.

Leon. No, no. We will hold it as a dream till it appear itself; but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell her of it. [Exit Antonio.]

[Enter Antonio's Son with a Musician, and others.]

[To the Son] Cousin, you know what you have to do. —[To the Musician] O, I cry you mercy, friend. Go you with me, and I will use your skill.—Good cousin, have a care this busy time.