_Hero._ So says the prince and my new-trothed lord. _Urs._ And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? _Hero._ They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; 40 But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. _Urs._ Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a bed 45 As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? _Hero._ O god of love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: But Nature never framed a woman’s heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; 50 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprising what they look on; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, 55 She is so self-endeared. _Urs._ Sure, I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. _Hero._ Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, 60 But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced, She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique, Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; If low, an agate very vilely cut; 65 If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out; And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 70 _Urs._ Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. _Hero._ No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me 75 Out of myself, press me to death with wit! Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. 80 _Urs._ Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say. _Hero._ No; rather I will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, I’ll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with: one doth not know 85 How much an ill word may empoison liking. _Urs._ O, do not do your cousin such a wrong! She cannot be so much without true judgement,— Having so swift and excellent a wit As she is prized to have,—as to refuse 90 So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. _Hero._ He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. _Urs._ I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, 95 For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, Goes foremost in report through Italy.