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Don Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than
the flood ?
ACT III. SCENE I.
Hero. For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 21 Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Hero. O God of love! I know he doth deserve
Sure, I think so ;
She knew his love, lest she make sport of it.
Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur’d, But she would spell him backward : if fair fac'd, She 'd swear the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot ; if tall, a lance ill-headed ; If low, an agate very vilely cut ; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out; And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
Beatrice. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true ?
Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much? Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu !
No glory lives behind the back of such. And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee :
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.22 If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band : For others say thou dost deserve; and I Believe it better than reportingly.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Beatrice. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied !
Friar. Hear me a little ;
For I have only been silent so long,
Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf Change slander to remorse ; that is some good : But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth. She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Upon the instant that she was accus'd, Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused Of every hearer : for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. -So will it fare with Claudio : When he shall hear she died upon his words, The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination; And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
Benedick. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?
that would right her.
is not that strange ? Beatrice. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you :
but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing; nor I deny nothing.- I am sorry for my cousin.
Benedick. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.
Benedick. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. Beatrice. Will
word ? Benedick. With no sauce that can be devised to it: I protest, I love thee.
Beatrice. Why then, God forgive me !
Beatrice. You have staid me in a happy hour, I was about to protest I loved you.
Benedick. And do it with all thy heart.
Beatrice. I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.
Benedick. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Beatrice. I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in you.-Nay, I pray you, let me go.
Beatrice. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy.
Benedick. Is Claudio thine enemy?
Beatrice. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? -0, that I were a man !—What! bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then, with public accusation,