And never to let Beatrice know of it.
Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
[045] Deserve as full as fortunate a bed
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But Nature never framed a woman’s heart
050 Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
[051] Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit