_D. Pedro._ As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most 175 Christian-like fear. _Leon._ If he do fear God, a’ must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. _D. Pedro._ And so will he do; for the man doth fear 180 God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love? _Claud._ Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel. 185 _Leon._ Nay, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first. _D. Pedro._ Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see 190 how much he is unworthy so good a lady. _Leon._ My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. _Claud._ If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. _D. Pedro._ Let there be the same net spread for her; 195 and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter: that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb-show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. 200 [_Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato._ _Bene._ [_Coming forward_] This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself 205 proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair,—’tis a truth, I can 210 bear them witness; and virtuous,—’tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me,—by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I 215 have railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I 220 said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her. _Enter_ BEATRICE.