1599 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
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Pedro. I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though
I'll
be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I
have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won. I have broke
with
her father, and his good will obtained. Name the day of
marriage,
and God give thee joy!
Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes.
His
Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it!
Beat. Speak, Count, 'tis your cue.
Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but
little
happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am
yours.
I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a
kiss
and let not him speak neither.
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 that he is in
her
heart.
Claud. And so she doth, cousin.
Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world
but
I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry 'Heigh-ho
for
a husband!'
Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
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.
Pedro. Will you have me, lady?
Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for 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.
Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best
becomes
you, for out o' question you were born in a merry hour.
Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a
star
danc'd, and under that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy!
Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?
Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle, By your Grace's pardon. Exit.
Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord.