Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told 305 you of?
Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. By your Grace’s pardon. [Exit.
[308] D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
Leon. There’s little of the melancholy element in her, 310 my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps; and not [311] ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath [312] often dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.
D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.
315 Leon. O, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out of suit.
D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.
[320] D. Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go to church?
Claud. To-morrow, my lord: time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.