[048] D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?
050 D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.
Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept [053] into a lute-string, and now governed by stops.
[054] D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude, 055 conclude he is in love.
Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.
D. Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.
Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of 060 all, dies for him.
[061] D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards.
Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not 065 hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.