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