D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear [284] that he is in her heart.
285 Claud. And so she doth, cousin.
Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one [287] to the world but I, and I am sun-burnt; I may sit in a [288] corner, and cry heigh-ho for a husband!
D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
290 Beat. I would rather have one of your father’s getting. Hath your Grace ne’er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.
D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady?
Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for 295 working-days: your Grace is too costly to wear every day. But, I beseech your Grace, pardon me: I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be [299] merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were 300 born in a merry hour.
Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then [302] there was a star danced, and under that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy!