DON PEDRO
How then? sick?
CLAUDIO
Neither, my lord.
BEATRICE
The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor
well; but civil count, civil as an orange, and
something of that jealous complexion.
DON PEDRO
I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true;
though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is
false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and
fair Hero is won: I have broke with her father,
and his good will obtained: name the day of
marriage, and God give thee joy!
LEONATO
Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my
fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and an
grace say Amen to it.
BEATRICE
Speak, count, 'tis your cue.
CLAUDIO
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were
but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as
you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for
you and dote upon the exchange.
BEATRICE
Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth
with a kiss, and let not him speak neither.
DON PEDRO
In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
BEATRICE
Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on
the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his
ear that he is in her heart.
CLAUDIO
And so she doth, cousin.
BEATRICE
Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the
world but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a
corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!