Listen here:
Hero: Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick.
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
My talk to thee must be how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice…
For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Ursula: But are you sure that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
Hero: So says the prince.
Ursula: And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
Hero: They did entreat me to acquaint her of it…
But nature never framed a woman’s heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice.
Ursula: Sure I think so,
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it…
Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say.
Hero: No, rather I will go to Benedick
And counsel him to fight against his passion.
Ursula: O, do not do your cousin such a wrong!
She cannot be so much without true judgment…
As to refuse so rare a gentleman as Signor Benedick.
Hero: Indeed he hath an excellent good name.
Ursula: [Aside] She’s limed, I warrant you! We have caught her, madam.
Hero: [Aside] If it prove so, then loving goes by haps.
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.