MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
Page: 20

now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical
banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see
with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn but
love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till
he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One
woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another
virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman
shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or
I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never
look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel;
of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what
colour it please God. Ha! the prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me
in the arbour.
[Withdraws.]

[Enter DON PEDRO, LEONATO, and CLAUDIO, followed by BALTHAZAR and
Musicians.]

DON PEDRO.
Come, shall we hear this music?

CLAUDIO.
Yea, my good lord.
How still the evening is,
As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!

DON PEDRO.
See you where Benedick hath hid himself?

CLAUDIO.
O! very well, my lord: the music ended,
We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.

DON PEDRO.
Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again.

BALTHAZAR.
O! good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.

DON PEDRO.
It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection.
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.

BALTHAZAR.
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy; yet he wooes;
Yet will he swear he loves.

DON PEDRO.
Nay, pray thee come;
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.

BALTHAZAR.
Note this before my notes;
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.

DON PEDRO.
Why these are very crotchets that he speaks;
Notes, notes, forsooth, and nothing!

[Music.]

BENEDICK.
Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange that
sheep's gutsshould hale souls out of men's bodies? Well, a horn for