Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.
050 Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered [052] with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life [053] to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I’ll none: Adam’s [054] sons are my brethren; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match 055 in my kindred.
Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.
Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be [059] not wooed in good time: if the prince be too important, tell 060 him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the [061] answer. For, hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting, [062] is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, [065] full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinque pace faster and [067] faster, till he sink into his grave.
Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by 070 daylight.
Leon. The revellers are entering, brother: make good [072] room. [All put on their masks.
[073] Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others, masked.
D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend?
Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say 075 nothing, I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away.