SCENE III.
Musick for the Dance.
John.
Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn
her father to break with him about it: the ladies follow
her, and but one visor remains.
Bora.
And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing.
John.
Are not you Signior Benedick?
Claud.
You know me well, I am he.
John.
Signior, you are very near my brother in his love,
he is enamour'd on Hero, I pray you dissuade him from her,
she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest
man in it.
Claud.
How know you he loves her?
John.
I heard him swear his affection.
Bora.
So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight.
John.
Come let us to the banquet.
[Exeunt John and Bor.
Claud.
Thus answer I in name of Benedick,
But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio.
'Tis certain so, the prince woos for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Save in the office and affairs of love;
Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues,
Let every eye negotiate for it self,
And trust no agent; beauty is a witch,
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewel then, Hero!
Enter Benedick.
Bene.
Count Claudio?
-- 497 --
Claud.
Yea the same.
Bene.
Come, will you go with me?
Claud.
Whither?
Bene.
Even to the next willow, about your own business,
Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about
your neck, like an Usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a
Lieutenant's scarf? you must wear it one way, for the Prince
hath got your Hero.
Claud.
I wish him joy of her.
Bene.
Why that's spoken like an honest drover; so they
sell bullocks: but did you think the Prince would have served
you thus?
Claud.
I pray you leave me.
Bene.
Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the
boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.
Claud.
If it will not be, I'll leave you.
[Exit.
Bene.
Alas poor hurt a notefowle, now will he creep into sedges.
But that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me!
the Prince's fool! ha? it may be I go under that title, because
I am merry; yea, but so I am apt to do my self wrong: I am
not so reputed. It is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice,
that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out;
well, I'll be reveng'd as I may.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
