DON PEDRO.
Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?
CLAUDIO.
Tomorrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.
LEONATO.
Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind.
DON PEDRO.
Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules’ labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction.
LEONATO.
My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights’ watchings.
CLAUDIO.
And I, my lord.
DON PEDRO.
And you too, gentle Hero?
HERO.
I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband.
DON PEDRO.
And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
[Exeunt.]