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Leon. Come, Cousin, I am sure, you love the gen
tleman. Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice.
Hero. And here's another, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,
, Containing her affection unto Benedick.
Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts; come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.
Beat, I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save
your life; for as I was told, you were in a consumption. Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.--
[Kissing her. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?
Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a College of witcrackers cannot flout me out of
humour: dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? no: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him ; in brief, lince I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion; for thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin.
Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends ; let's have a
Dance ere we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives heels.
Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.
Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play, music. Prince, thou art fad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife; there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn.
Bene. Think not on him 'till to-morrow : I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. · Pipers.
[Dance. [Exeunt omnes.
DUKE of Venice.
Suiters to Portia.
Servants to Portia.
Portia, an Heiress of great Quality and Fortune.
SCENE, partly at Venice; and partly at Belmont,
the Seat of Portia upon the Continent.