thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection,
it is past the infinite of thought

Prince. May be she doth but counterfeit

Claud. Faith like enough

Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit
of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she discouers
it

Prince. Why what effects of passion shewes she?
Claud. Baite the hooke well, this fish will bite

Leon. What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you
heard my daughter tell you how

Clau. She did indeed

Prince. How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would
haue thought her spirit had beene inuincible against all
assaults of affection

Leo. I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially
against Benedicke

Bene. I should thinke this a gull, but that the whitebearded
fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide
himselfe in such reuerence