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.

Beat.
Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss,
and let not him speak neither.

D. Pedro.
In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat.
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.

Claud.
And so she doth, cousin.

Beat.
Good Lord, for alliance!--Thus goes every one to the world but
I, and I am sunburned; I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh-ho
for a husband!

D. Pedro.
Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beat.
I would rather have one of your father's getting: Hath your
grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent