Claud.

Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato?

Bene.

I noted her not, but I look'd on her.

Claud.

Is she not a modest young lady?

Bene.

Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?

Claud.

No, I pr'ythee, speak in sober judgment.

Bene.

Why, i'faith, methinks, she is too low for an high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.

Claud.

Thou think'st, I am in sport; I pray thee, tell me truly how thou lik'st her.

Bene.

Would you buy her, that you enquire after her?

Claud.

Can the world buy such a jewel?

Bene.

Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is^{4 note} a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the Song?

Claud.

In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that I ever look'd on.

Bene.

I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter; there's her Cousin, if she were not possest with such a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, as the first of May doth the last of December: but I hope, you have no intent to turn husband, have you?

Claud.

I would scarce trust myself, tho' I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.

Bene.

Is't come to this, in faith? hath not the world one man, but he will wear^{5 note} his cap with suspicion? shall I never see a batchelor of threescore again? go to, i'faith, if thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and ^{6 note}sigh away Sundays: look, Don Pedro is return'd to seek you.

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