Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too fhort of you.
Dogb. Gifts that God gives.

Leon. I must leave you.

Dogb. One word, Sir, our Watch have indeed comprehended two aufpicious perfons, and we would have them this morning examin'd before your Worship.

Leon. Take their examination your felf, and bring it me I am now in great hafte, as may appear unto you.

Dogb. It fhall be suffigance.

Leon. Drink fome wine ere you go: fare you well.
Enter a Meffenger.

Meff. My Lord, they ftay for you to give your daughter to her husband.

Leon. I'll wait upon them, I am ready. [Exit Leon. Dogb. Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacole, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail; we are now to examine those men.

Verg. And we must do it wifely.

Dogb. We will fpare for no wit, I warrant; here's that fhall drive fome of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to fet down cur excommunication, and meet me at the Jail. [Exeunt.

Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio,
Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice.

'Lean.

Ome, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain

particular duties afterwards.

Friar. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady? Claud. No.

Leon. To be marry'd to her, Friar; you come to marry her.

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?

Here.

Friar. Know you any, Count?

Hero. None, my Lord.

Leon. I dare make his anfwer, none.

Claud. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily 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 unconstrained 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, whofe worth May counterpoife this rich and precious gift?

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 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 itself withal!
Comes not that blood, as modeft evidence,
To witness fimple virtue? would you not swear,
All you that fee her, that the were a maid,
By these exterior fhews ? but she is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltiness not modefty.
Leon. What do you mean, my Lord?
Claud. Not to be marry'd,

Not knit my foul to an approved Wanton.

Leon. Dear my lord, if you in your own approof Have vanquish'd the refiftance of her youth,

And made defeat of her virginity

Claud. I know what you would say: 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.

Hera,

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

Claud. Out on thy feeming! I will write againft it
You feem'd 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 those pamper'd animals
That rage in favage fenfuality.

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

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

Leon. Are these things spoken, 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?

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 answer truly.

Leon. I charge thee do fc, as thou art my child.
Hero. O God defend me, how am I befet!

What kind of catechizing call you this?

Leon. 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 yesternight
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now it 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

Who hath, indeed like an illiberal villain,
Confefs'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in fecret.

Jobn. 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 hadft thou been,
If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
About the thoughts and counfels of thy heart!
But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewel,
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 fhall it more be gracious.

Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [Hero fwoons. Beat. Why, how now, coufin, wherefore fink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light Smother her spirits up. [Exe. D. Pedro, D. John and Claud. SCENE II.

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 wish'd for.

Beat. How now, coufin Hero?

Friar. Have comfort, Lady.

Leon. Doft thou look up?

Friar. Yea, wherefore fhould fhe not?

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

Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature's hand?
I've one too much by thee. Why had I one?
Why ever waft thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had not I, 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 felf 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, the, Oh! fhe is fall'a
Into a pit of ink, that the wide fea

Hath drops too few to wath her clean again,
And falt too little which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh.

Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient;

For my part, I am fo attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to say,

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 twelvemonths been her bedfellow.

Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is ftronger made,
Which was before barr'd up with ribs, of iron.
Would the Prince lie? and Claudio would he 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 blufhing apparitions

To ftart into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear 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,
Truft not my reading, nor my observation,