_Leon._ No; and swears she never will: that’s her 115 torment. _Claud._ ’Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: ‘Shall I,’ says she, ‘that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?’ 120 _Leon._ This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for she’ll be up twenty times a night; and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all. _Claud._ Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember 125 a pretty jest your daughter told us of. _Leon._ O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet? _Claud._ That. _Leon._ O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; 130 railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her; ‘I measure him,’ says she, ‘by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.’ _Claud._ Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, 135 sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; ‘O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!’ _Leon._ She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself: 140 it is very true. _D. Pedro._ It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. _Claud._ To what end? He would make but a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. 145 _D. Pedro._ An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. _Claud._ And she is exceeding wise. _D. Pedro._ In every thing but in loving Benedick. 150 _Leon._ O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. _D. Pedro._ I would she had bestowed this dotage on 155 me: I would have daffed all other respects, and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what a’ will say. _Leon._ Were it good, think you? _Claud._ Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she 160 will die, if he love her not; and she will die, ere she make her love known; and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. _D. Pedro._ She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it; for the man, as 165 you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. _Claud._ He is a very proper man. _D. Pedro._ He hath indeed a good outward happiness. _Claud._ Before God! and in my mind, very wise. _D. Pedro._ He doth indeed show some sparks that are 170 like wit. _Claud._ And I take him to be valiant.