Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation.
195 D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; [196] and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. [197] The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter: that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb-show. Let us send [200] her to call him in to dinner. [Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato.
[201] Bene. [Coming forward] This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections [204] have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. 205 I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to 210 mending. They say the lady is fair,—’tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous,—’tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me,—by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I [214] will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some [215] odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite [217] alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career 220 of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
Enter Beatrice.
[224] Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to [225] dinner.
Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.
230 Bene. You take pleasure, then, in the message?
Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a [232] knife’s point, and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior: fare you well. [Exit.