Page 1374 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.

URSULA
Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full as fortunate a bed [45]
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

HERO
O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man;
But Nature never framed a woman’s heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. [50]

Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprizing what they look on, and her wit
Values itself so highly that to her
All matter else seems weak. She cannot love,

Nor take no shape nor project of affection, [55]
She is so self-endeared.

URSULA
Sure, I think so;
And therefore, certainly, it were not good

She knew his love, lest she’ll make sport at it.

HERO

Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, [60]
But she would spell him backward. If fair-faced,
She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;

If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut; [65]
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;

If silent, why, a block movèd with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. [70]