Pedro. Looke heere she comes
Bene. Will your Grace command mee any seruice to the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment for me? Pedro. None, but to desire your good company
Bene. O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure
this Lady tongue.
Enter.
Pedr. Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of
Signior Benedicke
Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I haue lost it
Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put
him downe
Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest
I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought
Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke
Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?
Claud. Not sad my Lord
Pedro. How then? sicke?
Claud. Neither, my Lord
Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry, nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something of a iealous complexion