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Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,

And greedily devour the treacherous bait;

So angle we for Beatrice, who even now

Is couched in the woodbine coverture.

Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero.

Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing

Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.

[They advance to the bower.]

No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful,

I know her spirits are as coy and wild

As haggards of the rock.

Urs.

But are you sure

That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

Hero.

So says the Prince and my new-frothed lord.

Urs.

And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?

Hero.

They did entreat me to acquaint her of it,

But I persuaded them, if they lov’d Benedick,

To wish him wrastle with affection,

And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urs.

Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman

Deserve as full as fortunate a bed

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 fram’d a woman’s heart

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