See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
O, very well, my lord: the music ended,
We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.
Enter BALTHASAR with Music
Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again.
O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.
It is the witness still of excellency
To put a strange face on his own perfection.
I pray thee, sing, and let
me woo no more.
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not
worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he swear he loves.
Now, pray thee, come;
Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.
Note this before my notes;
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks;
Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing.
Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it
not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out
bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
thing constant never:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your
sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leafy:
Then sigh not so, &c.
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