Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count?

Hero. I do.

Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your fouls to utter it.

Claud. Know you any, Hero?
Hero. None, my Lord.

Friar. Know you any, Count?

Leon. I dare make his anfwer, none.

Claud. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! not knowing what they do!

Bene. How now! Interjections? why, then fome be of laughing, as ha, ha, he!

Claud. Stand thee by, friar: father, .by your leave; Will you with free and unconftrained foul

Give me this maid your daughter?

Leon. As freely, fon, as God did give her me.
Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose
worth

May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?

Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.
Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankful-

nefs:

There, Leonato, take her back again;

Give not this rotten orange to your friend.
She's but the fign and femblance of her honour:
Behold, how like a maid fhe blushes here!
O, what authority and fhew of truth
Can cunning fin cover it felf withal!
Comes not that blood, as modeft evidence,
To witness fimple virtue? would you not swear,
All you that fee her, that fhe were a maid,
By these exterior fhews? but she is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltinefs, not modesty.
Leon. What do you mean, my Lord?
Claud. Not to be marry'd,

ΑΠ

Not knit my foul to an approved Wanton.

Leon.

Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own approof (16) Have vanquish'd the refiftance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity

Claud. I know what you would fay: if I have known

her,

You'll fay, fhe did embrace me as a husband,
And fo extenuate the forehand. fin.:

No, Leonato,

I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to his fifter, fhew'd

Bashful fincerity, and comely love.

Hero. And feem'd I ever otherwise to you?

Claud. Out on thy Seeming! I will write against it; You feem to me as Dian in her orb,

As chafte as is the bud ere it be blown:

But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or thofe pamper'd animals

That rage in favage fenfuality.

Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth fpeak fo wide?
Leon. Sweet Prince, why fpeak not you?
Pedro. What should I fpeak?

I ftand difhonour'd, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common Stale.

Leon. Are these things fpoken, or do I but dream?
John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
Bene. This looks not like a Nuptial..

Hero. True! O God!

Claud. Leonato, ftand I here?

Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother?
Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own?

(16) Dear my Lord, if you in your own Proof,] I am furpriz'd, the Poetical Editors did not obferve the Lameness of this Verfe. It evidently wants a Syllable in the laft Foot, which I have reftor'd by a Word, which, I prefume, the firft Editors might hefitate at; tho' it is a very proper one, and a Word elsewhere ufed by our Author." Anth. and Cleop.

Sifter, prove fuch a Wife

As my Thoughts make thee, and my fartheft Band
Shall pass on thy Approof.

Befides, in the Paffage under Examination, this Word comes in almoft
neceffarily, as Claudio had faid in the Line immediately preceding;
Not knit my Soul to an approved Wanton.

Gg 4

Leon.

Leon. All this is fo; but what of this, my lord? Claud. Let me but move one queftion to your daughter,

And by that fatherly and kindly power

That you have in her, bid her anfwer truly.

Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Hero. O God defend me, how am I befet! What kind of catechizing call you this?

Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any just reproach?

Claud. Marry, that can Hero;'

Hero her felf can blot out Hero's virtue.

What man was he talk'd with you yefternight
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.

Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord.
Pedro. Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato,
I am forry, you must hear; upon mine Honour,
My felf, my Brother, and this grieved Count
Did fee her, hear her, at that hour last night
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window;
Who hath, indeed, moft like a liberal villain,
Confefs'd the vile encounters they have had
A thoufand times in fecret.

John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord,
Not to be spoken of;

There is not chastity enough in language,

Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady,
I am forry for thy much mifgovernment.

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been
If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
About the thoughts and counfels of thy heart?
But fare thee well, moft foul, moft fair! farewel,
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity!
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eyelids fhall Conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm ;
And never fhall it more be gracious.

Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?

Beat.

Beat. Why, how now, Coufin, wherefore fink you down?

John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to

light,

Smother her fpirits up.

[Exe. D. Pedro, D. John and Claud,

Bene. How doth the lady?

Beat. Dead, I think; help, uncle....

Hero! why, Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick! friar!
Leon. O fate! take not away thy heavy hand;
Death is the fairest cover for her fhame,

That may be with'd for.

Beat. How now, coufin Hero?

Friar. Have comfort, Lady.

Leon. Doft thou look up?

Friar, Yea, wherefore fhould the not?

Leon. Wherefore? why, doth not every earthly thing Cry fhame upon her? could the here deny

The story that is printed in her blood?

Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes:
For did I think, thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I, thy fpirits were ftronger than thy fhames,
My felf would on the rereward of reproaches
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for That at frugal nature's frame?
I've one too much by thee. Why had I one?
Why ever waft thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not, with charitable hand,
Took up a beggar's iffue at my gates?
Who fmeered thus, and mir'd with infamy,
I might have faid, no part of it is mine;
This fhame derives it self from unknown loins:
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on, mine fo much,
That I my felf was to my felf not mine,
Valuing of her; why, fhe,-O, fhe is fall'n
Into a pit of ink, that the wide fea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again;
And falt too little, which may feafon give

To her foul tainted flefh!

Bene,

Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient;

For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to fay.

Beat. O, on my foul, my coufin is bely'd.
Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beat. No, truly, not; altho' until last night

I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, That is stronger
made,

Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron.
Would the two Princes lie? and Claudio lie?
Who lov'd her fo, that, fpeaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? hence from her, let her die.
Friar. Hear me a little,

For I have only been filent fo long,

And given way unto this courfe of fortune,
By noting of the lady. I have mark'd

A thousand blushing apparitions

To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whitenefs bear away thofe blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,
To burn the errors that thefe Princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool,
Truft not my reading, nor my obfervations,
Which with experimental feal doth warrant,
The tenour of my book; truft not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,

If this fweet lady lie not guiltless here,
Under fome biting error.

Leon. Friar, it cannot be;

Thou feeft, that all the grace that the hath left,
Is, that fhe will not add to her damnation

A fin of perjury; the not denies it:

Why feek'st thou then to cover with excufe

That, which appears in proper nakedness?

Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?

Hero. They know, that do accufe me; I know none:

If I know more of any man alive,

Than that which maiden modefty doth warrant,
Let all my fins lack mercy. O my father,