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that any man with me convers'd
Friar. There is some strange misprision in the Princes.
Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour,
Leon. I know not: if they speak but truth of her,
Friar. Pause a while,
(17) Your Daugbter here the Princess (left for dead)] But how comes Hero to start up a Princess here! We have no Intimation of her Father being a Prince ; and this is the first and only Time that She is complimented with this Dignity. The Remotion of a fingle Letter, and of the Parenthesis, will bring her to her own Rank, and the Place to its true Meaning
Your Daughter here the Princes left for dead;
To burn the Error that these Princes hold
There is some prange Misprision in thefe Princes.
I thank you, Princes, for my Daughter's Death.
Hang mournful Epitaphs, aad do all rites
Leon. 'What shall become of this? what will this do?
Friar. Marry, this, well carry'd, fhall on her behalt Change flander to remorse; that is some good: But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travel look for greater birth: She dying, as it must be fo maintain'd, Upon the instant that he was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus’d,
Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost,
Whether this be an Imitation, or no, I won't contend; but if not, it Teems to me a very fine Paraphraso on this passage of Horace ; Lib. III. Ode 24,
Virtutem incolumem odimus,
Will quench the wonder of her infamy.
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you:
Leon. Being that I fow in grief,
For to strange fores, strangely they ftrain the cure.
[Exeunt. Manent Benedick and Beatrice. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while ? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that. Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe, your fair cousin is wrong'd.
Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her!
Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship?
Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you, is not that strange?
Beat. As strange as the thing I know not; it were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you; but believe me not; and yet I lye not; I confels nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.
Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me.
Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him cat it, that says, I love not you.
Beat. Will you not eat your word?
Bene. With' no sauce that can be devis'd to it; I protest, I love thee.
Beat. Why then, God forgive me.
Beat. You have stay'd me in a happy hour ; I was about to protest, I lov'd you.
Bene. And do it with all thy heart.
Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest.
Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. : Beat. I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love in you; nay, I pray you, let me go
Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy.
Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy ??
Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my kinswoman! O that I were a man! what bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with publick accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated rancourO God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.
Bene. Hear me, Beatrice.
Beat. Talk with a man out at a window? proper saying!
Bene. Nay, but Beatrice.
Beat. Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is flander'd, she is undone.
Beat. Princes and Counts! surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect, a sweet gallant, surely! Ö that I were a man for his fake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my fake! but manhood is melted into curtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
Bene. Tarry good Beatrice ; by this hand, I love thee.
Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.
Bene. Think you in your soul, the Count Claudio hath wrong's Hero?
Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.
Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him, I will kiss your hand, and to leave you ; by this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your cousin; I must fay, she is dead, and so farewel.
SCENE changes to a Prifon.
Enter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the
Town-Clerk and Sexton in Gowns.
Dog. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton!
Dog. Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine.
Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examin'd? let them come before master constable.
To. Cl. Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is
your name, friend Bora, Borachio. To. Cl. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, Sirrah?
Conr. I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade,