Much Ado About Nothing Page #2

buy such a jewel?

Yea, and a case

to put it into.

But speak you

this with a sad brow?

In mine eye she is the sweetest lady

that ever I looked on.

I can see yet without spectacles

and I see no such matter.

There's her cousin, an she were not

possessed with 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?

I would scarce trust myself,

though I had

sworn the contrary,

if Hero would be my wife.

Is it come to this?

Shall I never see a bachelor

of three-score again?

Go ty i' faith, an thou wilt needs

thrust thy neck into a yoke,

wear the print of it and sigh

away Sundays.

What secret hath held you here,

that you followed not Leonato?

I would your grace

would constrain me to tell.

I charge

thee on thy allegiance.

O, on my allegiance?

Mark you this.

On my allegiance

he is in love.

With who? Now that

is your grace's part.

Mark you

how short his answer is.

With Hero,

Leonato's short daughter.

Amen, if you love her, for the lady is

very well worthy.

You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.

By my troth,

I speak my thought.

And, in faith,

my lord, I spoke mine.

And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord,

I spoke mine.

That I love her I feel.

And that she is worthy,

I know.

That I neither feel

how she should be loved

nor know

how she should be worthy

is the opinion that fire cannot

melt out of me.

I will die in it at the stake.

Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic

in the despite of beauty.

That a woman conceived me,

I give her thanks,

that she brought me up, I likewise give her

most humble thanks.

But that I will have a recheat

winded in my forehead,

or hang my bugle

from an invisible baldrick,

all women shall pardon me.

Because I will not do them the wrong

to mistrust any,

I will do myself

the right to trust none.

And the fine is, for the which

I may go the finer,

I shall see thee, ere I die,

look pale with love.

With anger,

with sickness,

or with hunger,

my lord, not with love.

Well, as time shall try.

"In time the savage

bull doth bear the yoke."

The savage bull may,

but if ever the sensible

Benedick bear it,

pluck off the bull's horns

and plant them in my forehead

and let me

be vilely painted,

and in such great letters

as they write,

"Here is good horse to hire,"

let them

signify under my sign,

"Here may you see Benedick

the married man."

Nay, if Cupid have not spent

all his quiver in Venice,

thou wilt quake

for this shortly.

I look for

an earthquake too, then.

Hath Leonato any son,

my lord?

No child but Hero,

she's his only heir.

Dost thou affect her,

Claudio?

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