Page 1443 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

Troth no, no more than reason.

BEATRICE
Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula
Are much deceived; for they did swear you did.

BENEDICK
They swore that you were almost sick for me. [80]

BEATRICE
They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.

BENEDICK
’Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?

BEATRICE
No, truly, but in friendly recompense.

LEONATO
Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.

CLAUDIO
And I’ll be sworn upon’t that he loves her, [85]
For here’s paper written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,

Fashioned to Beatrice.

HERO

And here’s another
Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick. [90]

BENEDICK
A miracle! Here’s our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee;
but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

BEATRICE