Prince. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes you, for out of question, you were born in a merry howre
Beatr. No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins God giue you ioy
Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those things I told
you of?
Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.
Exit Beatrice.
Prince. By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady
Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with laughing
Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband
Leonato. O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers out of suite
Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick
Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke
married, they would talke themselues madde