_D. Pedro._ Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part almost a fray. _Claud._ We had like to have had our two noses snapped 115 off with two old men without teeth. _D. Pedro._ Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. _Bene._ In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came 120 to seek you both. _Claud._ We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit? _Bene._ It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it? 125 _D. Pedro._ Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? _Claud._ Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us. _D. Pedro._ As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art 130 thou sick, or angry? _Claud._ What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. _Bene._ Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject. 135 _Claud._ Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross. _D. Pedro._ By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed. _Claud._ If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. 140 _Bene._ Shall I speak a word in your ear? _Claud._ God bless me from a challenge! _Bene._ [_Aside to Claudio_] You are a villain; I jest not: I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your 145 cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. _Claud._ Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. _D. Pedro._ What, a feast, a feast? _Claud._ I’ faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf’s-head 150 and a capon; the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife’s naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? _Bene._ Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. _D.Pedro._ I’ll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit 155 the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: ‘True,’ said she, ‘a fine little one.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘a great wit:’ ‘Right,’ says she, ‘a great gross one.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘a good wit:’ ‘Just,’ said she, ‘it hurts nobody.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘the gentleman is wise:’ ‘Certain,’ said she, ‘a wise gentleman.’ 160 ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘he hath the tongues:’ ‘That I believe,’ said she, ‘for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there’s a double tongue; there’s two tongues.’ Thus did she, an hour together, trans-shape thy particular virtues: yet at last she 165 concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy. _Claud._ For the which she wept heartily, and said she cared not.