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 catechising call you this?

Claud. To make you answer truly to your

name.

80 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 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.

D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden.
Leonato,

I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother and this grieved count
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window;
Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.

90

There is not chastity enough in language Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

100

Claud. O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, Thou pure impiety and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? (Hero swoons. 110 Beat. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down?

D. John. Come, let us go. come thus to light,

These things,

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! Friar. Have comfort, lady. Leon. Dost thou look up?

120

Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not?
Leon. Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly
thing

Cry shame upon her? Could she 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 spirits were stronger than thy shames,

130

Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame?
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates,
Who smirch'd thus and mired with infamy,
I might have said 'No part of it is mine;
This shame derives itself from unknown loins'?
But mine and mine I loved and mine I praised
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her,-why, she, O, she is fallen
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again
And salt too little which may season give
To her foul-tainted flesh!

Bene.
Sir, sir, be patient.
For my part, I am so attired in wonder,
I know not what to say.

140

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,

150

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 loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her
die.

Friar. Hear me a little; for I have only been
Silent so long and given way unto
This course of fortune....

By noting of the lady I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions

160

To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenour of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

Leon.

170

Friar, it cannot be. Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left Is that she will not add to her damnation A sin of perjury; she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accused

of?

Hero.

none:

They know that do accuse me; I know

Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes.

Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour;

And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
The practice of it lives in John the bastard, 190
Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.

Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her,

These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour,

The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,

Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,"
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
Friar.

Pause awhile,
And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead:
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,

And publish it that she is dead indeed;
Maintain a mourning ostentation
And on your family's old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.

200

210

Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do?

Friar. Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf

Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accused,
Shall be lamented, pitied and excused
Of every hearer: for it so falls out

That what we have we prize not to the worth 220
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost,
Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,

And every lovely organ of her life

Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
More moving-delicate and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,

230

Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn,
If ever love had interest in his liver,
And wish he had not so accused her,
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell'd false,

The supposition of the lady's death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries.

240

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: And though you know my inwardness and love very much unto the prince and Claudio,

Is

Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day Perhaps is but prolong'd: have patience and endure.

[Exeunt all but 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. 260 Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!

Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man do it?

Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you is not that strange?

270

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 lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.

Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. Beat. Do not swear, and eat it.

280

Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and
I will make him eat it that says i love not you.
Beat. Will you not eat your word?
Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it.
I protest I love thee.

Beat. Why, then, God forgive me!
Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice?

Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved 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. 290

Bene. Nay, but, Beatrice,Beat. Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.

Bene. Beat

Beat. Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells 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.

lie

Dog. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?

Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.

Dog. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve God? Con.

Bora Yea, sir, we hope.

Dog. Write down, that they hope they serve God and write God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves?

Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about with him. Come hither, sirrah; a word in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.

you

30

Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none. Dog. Well, stand aside. 'Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down, that they

are none?

Sex. Master constable, you go not the way to examine you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.

40

Dog. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince's name, accuse these men. First Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's brother, was a villain. Dog. Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain. Bora. Master constable,

Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I promise thee.

Sex. What heard you him say else? Sec. Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.

Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed." Verg. Yea, by mass, that it is.

Sex. What else, fellow?

51

Sex. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner accused, of this suddenly died. in this very manner refused, and upon the grief Master Constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato's: I will go before and show him their examination. [Exit.

Dog. Come, let them be opinioned.
Verg. Let them be in the hands-
Con. Off, coxcomb!

70

Dog. God's my life, where's the sexton? let! him write down the prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them. Thou naughty varlet!

Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer, and, which is more, a householder, and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every thing handsome about him. Bring him away. I had been writ down an ass!

ACT V.

O that [Exeunt. 90

SCENE I. Before LEONATO's house.

Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO. Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself; And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself. Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve: give not me counsel;

Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine
And let it answer every strain for strain,
As thus for thus and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form:
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
Bid sorrow wag, cry 'hem!' when he should
groan,

Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.

20

But there is no such man: for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before iWould give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words: No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

30

Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ.

Leon. I pray thee, peace. and blood;

I will be flesh

For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently,
However they have writ the style of gods
And made a push at chance and sufferance.
Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself;
Make those that do offend you suffer too. 40
Leon. There thou speak'st reason: nay, I
will do so.

My soul doth tell me Hero is belied;

And that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince
And all of them that thus dishonour her.
Ant. Here comes the prince and Claudio
hastily.

Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO.

D. Pedro. Good den, good den.

Claud.

Good day to both of

Leon. Hear you, my lords,-D. Pedro.

you.

We have some haste, Leonato. Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you

60

I speak not like a dotard nor a fool,
As under privilege of age to brag
What I have done being young, or what would do
Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me
That I am forced to lay my reverence by
And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.

I say thou hast belied mine innocent child;
Thy slander hath gone through and through her
heart,

And she lies buried with her ancestors;
O, in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, framed by thy villany!
Claud. My villany?

70

Leon.
Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.
D. Pedro. You say not right, old man.
Leon.
My lord, my lord,

I'll prove it on his body, if he dare,
Despite his nice fence and his active practice,
His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.
Claud. Away! I will not have to do with you.
Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast

kill'd my child:

81

If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed:
But that's no matter; let him kill one first;
Win me and wear me; let him answer me.
Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, fol-

low me:

Ant. Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea,

And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,

Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys,
That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander,
Go anticly, show outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
And this is all.

Leon. But, brother Antony,-
Ant.

Come, 'tis no matter: 100
Do not you meddle; let me deal in this.
D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake
your patience.

My heart is sorry for your daughter's death:
But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing
But what was true and very full of proof.
Leon. My lord, my lord,-

D. Pedro. I will not hear you.

Leon. No? Come, brother; away! I will be heard.

Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it. [Exeunt Leonato and Antonio. D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man we went to seek.

Enter BENEDICK. Claud. Now, signior, what news?

110