Pedro.

Now, Signior, where's the Count? did you see him?

Bene.

Troth, my lord, I have play'd the part of lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren, I told him (and I think, told him true) that your Grace had got the Will of this young lady, and I offer'd him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt.

Pedro.

To be whipt! what's his fault?

Bene.

The flat transgression of a School-boy; who, being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it his companion, and he steals it.

Pedro.

Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer.

Bene.

Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestow'd on you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his bird's 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 quarrel to you; the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her she is much wrong'd by you.

Bene.

O, she misus'd me past the indurance of a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answer'd her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her; she told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw; hudling jest upon jest, with ^{8 note}