40

50

6)

we would have them this morning examined | Comes not that blood as modest evidence before your worship.

52 To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, Leon. Take their examination yourself, and All you that see her, that she were a maid, bring it me: I am now in great haste, as may By these exterior shows? But she is none : appear unto you.

She knows the heat of a luxurious bed ; Dogh. It shall be suffigance.

Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you Leon. What do you mean, my lord ? well.

Claud.

Not to be married, Enter a Messenger.

Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.

Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, daughter to her husband.

And made defeat of her virginity,Lion. I'll wait upon them : I am ready. Claud. I know what you would say: if I have

Exeunt LEONATO and N/cssenger. known her, Do-zb. Go, good partner,go; get you to Francis You 'll say she did embrace me as a husband, Seacoal ; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to And so extenuate the 'forehand sin : the gaol: we are now to examination these men. No, Leonato, Verg. And we must do it wisely.

I never tempted her with word too large; Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you ; But, as a brother to his sister, show'd here's that shall drive some of them to a non. Bashful sincerity and comely love. come: only get the learned writer to set down Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you ? our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol.

Claud. Out on thee! Seeming! I will write Excunt.

against it:

You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
ACT IV.

As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown ;

But you are more intemperate in your blood SCENE I.—The Inside of a Church. Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals

That Enter Don PEDRO, Don JOHN, LEONATO, Friar

rage in savage sensuality.

Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so FRANCIS, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEA.

wide ? TRICE, elc.

Lcon. Sweet prince, why speak not you ? Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief: only to D), Pedro.

What should I speak ? the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about their particular duties afterwards.

To link my dear friend to a common stale. Pri. You come bither, my lord, to marry this Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but Lady

dream? Claud. No.

D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things Leon, To be married to her, friar ; you come are true. to marry her.

Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Pri. Lady, you come hither to be married to Hero.

True! O God ! this count?

Claud, Leonato, stand I here? Hero. I do.

Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother? Pri. If either of you know any inward im. Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own? 11 pediment, why you should not be conjoined, Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my lord ? I charge you on your souls to utter it.

Claud. Let me bat move one question to your Claud. Know you any, Hero ?

daughter, Hero. None, my lord.

And, by that fatherly and kindly power Pri. Know you any, count?

That you have in her, bid her answer truly. Leon. I dare make his answer; none,

Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Claud, O! what men dare do! what men may Hero. O God defend me! how am I beset! do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! What kind of catechising call you this?

Bene. How now! Interjections? Why then, Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. some be of laughing, as, ah! ha! he!

Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name Claud. Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your With any just reproach? leave:

Claud.

Marry, that can Hero : 81 Will you with free and unconstrained soul Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. Give me this maid, your daughter ?

What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Leon, As freely, son, as God did give her me. Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one? Claud. And what have I to give you back, Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. whose worth

Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? lord.

D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble Leonato, thankfulness.

30 I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, There, Leonato, take her back again :

Myself, my brother, and this grieved count, Give not this rotten orange to your friend ; Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night, 9) She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ; Behold! how like a maid she blushes here, Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, 0! what authority and show of truth

Confess'd the vile encounters they have had Can cupping sin cover itself withal,

A thousand times in secret,

10

22

D. John. Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, | Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron. my lord,

Not to be spoke of;

Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie,
Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her, let her die.
Fri. Hear me a little ;

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

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been,
If half thy outward graces had been placed 101
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.
Beat. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink
you down?

110

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.
Fri. Have comfort, lady.
Leon. Dost thou look up?
Fri.
Yea; wherefore should she not?
Leon. Wherefore ! Why, doth not every
earthly thing
120

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 would'st not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy
shames,

Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Griev'd 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 smirched thus, and mir'd with infamy,
I might have said, 'No part of it is mine,
This shame derives itself from unknown loins'?
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
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.

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

To start into her face; a thousand innocent
shames

none.

If I know more of any man alive

How now, cousin Hero! Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father! 180
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.

Fri. 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,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.

190

Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honou

Bone.
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 bedfellow.
Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O! that is
stronger made

150

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.

160

Leon.
Friar, it cannot be. 170
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 ?
Fri. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?
Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know

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 accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pitied and excus'd
Of every hearer; for it so falls out
That what we have we prize not to the worth
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,

220

And every lovely organ of her life

231

Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
More moving-delicate and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
Than when she liv'd 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, 240
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you:
And though you know my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly as your soul
Should with your body.

250

Leon.
Being that I flow in grief,
The smallest twine may lead me.
Fri. 'Tis well consented: presently away,
For to strange sores strangely they strain the

cure.

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

Exeunt Friar, HERO, and LEONATO. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?

Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Bene. I will not desire that.

I will make him eat it that says I love not

you.

Beat. Will you not eat your word?

20

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
Beat. Kill Claudio.

Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.

Beat. You kill me to deny it.

Farewell.

Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

Beat. I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice,-

Beat. In faith, I will go.

Bene. We'll be friends first.

Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.

301

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?

Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O! that I were a man. What! bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,-O God! that I were a man. I would eat his heart in the marketplace.

310

Bene. Hear me, Beatrice,

Beat. Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!

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 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. You have no reason; I do it freely. Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.

281

Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.

331

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.

Enter Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO.
Ant. Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily.
D. Pedro. Good den, good den.
Claud.
Good day to both of you.

Leon. Hear you, my lords,-
D. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato.
Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you
well, my lord:

Are you so hasty now? well, all is one.
D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good
old man.

50

Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lie low.

Claud.

Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou, dissembler, thou.

Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword;
I fear thee not.

Claud

Marry, beshrew my hand,
If it should give your age such cause of fear.
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.
Leon. Tush, tush, man! never fleer and jest at

me:

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 forc'd 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, fram'd by thy villany.
Claud. My villany?
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:

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; 81 Win me and wear me; let him answer me. Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me.

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

And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple:
Scambling, outfacing, fashion-mong'ring 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:
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 charg'd with nothing
But what was true and very full of proof.
Leon. My lord, my lord,-
D. Pedro.
Leon.

I will not hear you.

Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Come, brother, away.
Ant. And shall, or

Leon. Brother,

Ant. Content yourself. God knows I lov'd

my niece;

And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains,
That dare as well answer a man indeed
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.
Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!
Brother Antony,-

Leon.

100

D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part almost a fray.

Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.

D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.

Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both.

12)

Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use 70 thy wit?

No!

I will be heard. me of us will smart for it. Exeunt LEONATO and ANTONIO,

Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.

Claud. Nay then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross.

D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed.

141

Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.

Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear? Claud. God bless me from a challenge! Bene. You are a villain. I jest not. I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.

90

151

Bene. It is in my scabbard; shall I draw it? D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.

D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick, or angry?

131

Claud. What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.