A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a
woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the
bucklers
Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our
owne
Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the
pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for
Maides
Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke
hath legges.
Exit Margarite.
Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that
sits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull
I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander
the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of
pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers,
whose name yet runne smoothly in the euen
rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so truely
turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: marrie
I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no
rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne,
horne, a hard rime: for schoole foole, a babling rime:
verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming
Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes:
Enter Beatrice.
sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd
thee?
Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me
Bene. O stay but till then
Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere
I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing
what hath past betweene you and Claudio
Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse
thee
Beat.
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