A/N: Not sure how I feel about this chapter - I don't know whether I've kept the language as Shakespearean as it is in other chapters, and I'm not sure how well it works. However, the scenario is this: it takes place just after last chapter, after lunch (still before both eavesdropping scenes), and is my interpretation of the conversation with Beatrice that Don Pedro refers to in Act 5, Scene 1. Let me know what you think!

The Properest Man in Italy

[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato and Hero]

Don Pedro

Thank you for an excellent luncheon, sir. We are so well-fed here that I scarce need to be fed again before supper!

Leonato

It is my humble pleasure.

Claudio

It is a shame Benedick could not join us.

Beatrice

Perhaps he is already stuffed.

[Leonato shakes head]

Claudio

Will you take a turn about the garden with me, sweet Hero? If it pleaseth your father, of course.

Leonato

It gives me all possible pleasure. I shall take leave of you now, to join my brother.

[Exeunt all but Don Pedro and Beatrice]

Beatrice

Prince, you look sad! Tell me why, and I shall make you merry!

Don Pedro

I have lost the love of a worthy lady.

Beatrice

Pray tell me, who?

Don Pedro

It matters not. Tell me, what think you of Signior Benedick?

Beatrice

[Sighing] Have I not made myself clear on that point? Have I not declared my opinion so loudly and forcefully that the whole of Messina, and perhaps Italy, knows my will.

Don Pedro

Methinks yourself and Benedick share similar dispositions. You jest and make fun of all, but truly, you cannot be so devoid of honest feeling. I am a friend, dear lady. I will not part with your secrets. Tell me your heart.

Beatrice

My heart is for my cousin and my uncles Leonato and Antonio. Not for any man, and certainly not for Signior Benedick.

Don Pedro

And that cannot be altered?

Beatrice

Never, by my troth. But for what purpose do you ask, sir?

Don Pedro

To prove to myself that I am right. That you and Benedick are most alike in your ways.

Beatrice

Ha! I should hope not! In all else but marriage, we are divided by a fissure so deep that if one were to fall through it, they would fall right through the Earth.

Don Pedro

Your wits are similar.

Beatrice

False. My wit exceeds in every way.

Don Pedro

You are indeed a most intelligent competitor. But dost thou not think he has a fine wit?

Beatrice

True. A fine little one.

Don Pedro

Troth, no, a…great wit.

Beatrice

Right. A great gross one.

Don Pedro

Nay, a good wit.

Beatrice

Just. It hurts nobody.

Don Pedro

Nay, the gentleman is wise.

Beatrice

Certain, a wise gentleman.

Don Pedro

Nay, he hath the tongues.

Beatrice

That I believe, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night that he forswore on Tuesday morning. There's a double tongue. There's two tongues.

Don Pedro

You are right, fair lady. No man can match you in your wit.

Beatrice

No man but he would attempt it. Yet, he has sworn to keep peace for a week, and now I shall run mad for having no equal opponent to crack my wit on. He swears, and forswears, and fights, and betrays, but for all that I hope he chokes on his word and humours me again. I would I had not a prideful countenance, for as I do, I would call myself the properest woman in Italy. [Sighing] And as I do myself that honour, I would just as like call him the properest man in Italy.

Don Pedro

Mean you to say you like the gentleman, after all?

Beatrice

Nay, nay! He is a double-dealer and a fool to boot, and my heart loathes him with so much of itself that it can scarce perform its function. But an I did not hate him deadly, I would love him dearly. For that would irritate him more than any taunt my displeasure can scratch him with.

Don Pedro

You swear you love him not, then?

Beatrice

I love no man, and love him less than the others. But enough of this! You are an agent of Benedick, sir, come to break my side of our wager of peace, by making me break insult on him. Inform him I know of his sabotage. Yet again he loses as I reveal his ploy. And so I leave you.

[Exit Beatrice]

Don Pedro

She doth lay out all poor Benedick's faults, yet calls him 'the properest man in Italy'. Why, the lady is in love!

[Exit Don Pedro]