_Bene._ What’s he? 115 _Beat._ I am sure you know him well enough. _Bene._ Not I, believe me. _Beat._ Did he never make you laugh? _Bene._ I pray you, what is he? _Beat._ Why, he is the prince’s jester: a very dull fool; 120 only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet: I would he had boarded me. 125 _Bene._ When I know the gentleman, I’ll tell him what you say. _Beat._ Do, do: he’ll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there’s a partridge 130 wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [_Music._] We must follow the leaders. _Bene._ In every good thing. _Beat._ Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. 135 [_Dance. Then exeunt all except Don John, Borachio, and Claudio._ _D. John._ Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. _Bora._ And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing. _D. John._ Are not you Signior Benedick? 140 _Claud._ You know me well; I am he. _D. John._ Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him from her: she is no equal for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it. 145 _Claud._ How know you he loves her? _D. John._ I heard him swear his affection. _Bora._ So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night. _D. John._ Come, let us to the banquet. 150 [_Exeunt Don John and Borachio._ _Claud._ Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. ’Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love: 155 Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, 160 Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero! _Re-enter_ BENEDICK. _Bene._ Count Claudio? _Claud._ Yea, the same. _Bene._ Come, will you go with me? _Claud._ Whither? 165