Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? Claud. No. Leon. To be married to her, friar; you come to marry her. Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? Hero. I do. Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utterit. Claud. Know you any, Hero? Hero. None, my lord. Friar. Know you any, count? Leon. I dare make his answer, 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 some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he! Claud. Stand thee by, friar:-Father, by your leave; Will you with free and unconstrained soul Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth, May counterpoise this rich and precious gift. D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. There, Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend; She's but the sign and semblance of her honour:- Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, She knows the heat of a luxurious bed: Not to be married, Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youthi, And made defeat of her virginity, Claud. I know what you would say; if I have known her, You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large+; Bashful sincerity, and comely love. Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy seeming! I will write against it: You seem to me as Dian in her orb ; As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown ; But you are more intemperate in your blood. That rage in savage sensuality. Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide ? Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you? What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about are true. Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Hero. Claud. Leonato, stand I here? True, O God! Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother? * Lascivious. + Licentious. Remote from the business in hand. Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my lord? Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter; And, by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Hero, O God defend me! how am I beset!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 itself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. nato, I am sorry you must hear; upon mine honour, D. John. Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed Too free of tongue. To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [Hero swoons. Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink you down? D. John. Come, let us go: these things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio. 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 shame, That may be wish'd for. Beat. How now, cousin Hero? Dost thou look up? Friar. Have comfort, lady. Friar. Yea; wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny Attractive. Sullied. + Disposition of things. This shame derives itself from unknown loins? Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; Bene, Sir, sir, be patient: For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, I know not what to say. Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? Beat. No, truly, not: although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bed-fellow. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, Leon. Friar, it cannot be : Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, |