I learn in this letter that Don Peter of Arragon
comes this night to Messina.
He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off
when I left him.
How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?
But few of any sort, and none of name.
A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings
home full numbers. I find here that Don Peter hath
bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio.
Much deserved on his part and equally remembered by
Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the
promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb,
the feats of a lion: he hath indeed better
bettered expectation than you must expect of me to
tell you how.
He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much
glad of it.
I have already delivered him letters, and there
appears much joy in him; even so much that joy could
not show itself modest enough without a badge of
bitterness.
Did he break out into tears?
In great measure.
A kind overflow of kindness: there are no faces
truer than those that are so washed. How much
better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!
I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the
wars or no?
I know none of that name, lady: there was none such
in the army of any sort.
What is he that you ask for, niece?
My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
O, he's returned; and as pleasant as ever he was.
He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged
Cupid at the flight; and my uncle's fool, reading
the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged
him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he
killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath
he killed? for indeed I promised to eat all of his killing.
Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much;
but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.
He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.
You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it:
he is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an
excellent stomach.
And a good soldier too, lady.
And a good soldier to a lady: but what is he to a lord?
A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all
honourable virtues.
It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man:
but for the stuffing,--well, we are all mortal.
You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a
kind of