Bene.

Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?

Beat.

Yea, and I will weep a while longer.

Bene.

I will not desire that.

Beat.

You have no reason, I do it freely.

Bene.

Surely, I do believe, your fair cousin is wrong'd.

Beat.

Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her!

Bene.

Is there any way to shew such friendship?

Beat.

A very even way, but no such friend.

Bene.

May a man do it?

Beat.

It is a man's office, but not yours.

Bene.

I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange?

Beat.

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.

Bene.

By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me.

Beat.

Do not swear by it, and eat it.

Bene.

I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you.

Beat.

Will you not eat your word?

Bene.

With no sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest, I love thee.

Beat.

Why then, God forgive me.

Bene.

What offence, sweet Beatrice?

Beat.

You have stay'd me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I lov'd you.

Bene.

And do it with all thy heart.

Beat.

I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest.

Bene.

Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

Beat.

Kill Claudio.

Bene.

Ha! not for the wide world.

Beat.

You kill me to deny; farewel.

Bene.

Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

Beat.

I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love in you; nay, I pray you, let me go.

Bene.

Beatrice,—

Beat.

In faith, I will go.

Bene.

We'll be friends first.

Beat.

You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy.

Bene.

Is Claudio thine enemy?

Beat.

Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my kinswoman! O, that I were a man! what! bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with publick accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated rancour— O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.

Bene.

Hear me, Beatrice.

Beat.

Talk with a man out a window?—a proper saying!

Bene.

Nay, but Beatrice.

Beat.

Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone.

Bene.

Beat—

Beat.

Princes and Counts! surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect, a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! but manhood is melted into curtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lye, and swears it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

Bene.

Tarry, good Beatrice; by this hand, I love thee.

Beat.

Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.

Bene.

Think you in your soul, the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero?

Beat.

Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.

Bene.

Enough, I am engag'd; I will challenge him, I will kiss your hand, and so leave you; by this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your cousin; I must say, she is dead, and so farewel.