Claud. Yea, the same.
Bene. Come, will you go with me?
165 Claud. Whither?
Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, [167] county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about [168] your neck, like an usurer’s chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant’s scarf? You must wear it one way, for the 170 prince hath got your Hero.
Claud. I wish him joy of her.
[172] Bene. Why, that’s spoken like an honest drovier: so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus?
175 Claud. I pray you, leave me.
[176] Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man: ’twas the boy that stole your meat, and you’ll beat the post.
Claud. If it will not be, I’ll leave you. [Exit.
[179] Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into 180 sedges. But, that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and [181] not know me! The prince’s fool! Ha? It may be I go [182] under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I am [183] apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it is the base, [184] though bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the world 185 into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I’ll be revenged as I may.