To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter?
Claud. I’ll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
Leon. Call her forth, brother; here’s the friar ready. [Exit Antonio.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the 040 matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?
Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull.
Tush, fear not, man; we’ll tip thy horns with gold,
[045] And all Europa shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,