Leonato.

Was not Count John here at Supper?

Ant.

I saw him not.

Beat.

How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after.

Hero.

He is of a very melancholy disposition.

Beat.

He were an excellent man, that were made just in the mid-way between him and Benedick; the one is too like an image, and says nothing: and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tatling.

Leon.

Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face—

Beat.

With a good Leg, and a good foot, Uncle, and mony enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if he could get her good Will.

Leon.

By my troth, Neice, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

Ant.

In faith, she's too curst.

Beat.

Too curst is more than curst; I shall lessen God's sending that way; for it is said, God sends a

curst Cow short horns; but to a Cow too curst he sends none.

Leon.

So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.

Beat.

Just, if he send me no Husband; for the which Blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening: Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lye in woollen.

Leon.

You may light upon a husband, that hath no beard.

Beat.

What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? he that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth, is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take six pence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell.^{3 note}

Ant.

Well, Neice, I trust, you will be rul'd by your father.

Beat.

Yes, faith, it is my Cousin's duty to make curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases you; but yet for all that, Cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsie, and say, Father, as it pleases me.

Leon.

Well, Neice, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

Beat.

Not 'till God make men of some other

metal than earth; would it not grieve a woman to be over-master'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make account of her life to a clod of way-ward marle? no, uncle, I'll none; Adam's sons are my brethren, and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.

Leon.

Daughter, remember, what I told you; if the Prince do sollicit you in that kind, you know your answer.

Beat.

The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; If the Prince be too important, tell him, there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the Answer; for hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace; the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly-modest, as a measure, full of state and anchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, 'till he sinks into his grave.

Leon.

Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

Beat.

I have a good eye, uncle, I can see a church by day-light.

Leon.

The revellers are entring, brother; make good room.