Friar.
Did not I tell you she was innocent?

Leon.
So are the prince, and Claudio, who accus'd her,
Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears.

Ant.
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.

Bene.
And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon.
Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
And when I send for you, come hither mask'd.
The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To visit me. You know your office, brother,
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies.

Ant.
Which I will do, with confirm'd countenance.

Bene.
Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think.

Friar.
To do what, signior?

Bene.
To bind me, or undo me, one of them.
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me, with an eye of favour.

Leon.
That eye, my daughter lent her, 'tis most true.

Bene.
And I do, with an eye of love, requite her.

Leon.
The fight whereof, I think, you had from me,
From Claudio, and the prince. But, what's your will?

Bene.
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical;
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day, to be conjoin'd
I'th' state of honourable marriage,
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.

Leon.
My heart is with your liking.

Friar.
And my help. Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio.

Pedro.
Hail to this fair assembly.

Leon.
We here attend you. Are you still determin'd
To marry with my brother's daughter?

Claud.
I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.

Leon.
Call her forth, brother, here's the friar ready.

Pedro.
Good-morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

Claud.
I think, he thinks upon the savage bull.
Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee:
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene.
Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow,
And got a calf in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.* ^note
O, here they come. Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Ursula, mask'd.

Claud.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Ant.
This same is she, and I do give you her.

Claud.
Why then, she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face?

Leon.
No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand,
Before this friar, and swear to marry her.

Claud.
Give me your hand; before this holy friar,
I am your husband, if you like of me.

Hero.
And when I liv'd, I was your other wife, [Unmasking.
And when you lov'd, you were my other husband.

Claud.
Another Hero?

Hero.
Nothing certainer.
One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live;
And surely, as I live, I am a maid.

Pedro.
The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!

Leon.
She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.† ^note

Friar.
All this amazement can I qualify.
When after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time, let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene.

Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?

Beat.

I answer to that name. What is your will?

Bene.

Do not you love me?

Beat.

Why, no; no more than reason.

Bene.

Why then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio, have been deceived; they swore you did.

Beat.

Do not you love me?

Bene.

Troth, no; no more than reason.

Beat.

Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did.

Bene.

They swore you were almost sick for me.

Beat.

They swore you were well-nigh dead for me.

Bene.

'Tis no matter. Then you do not love me?

Beat.

No, truly, but in friendly recompence.

Leon.
Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.

Claud.
And I'll be sworn upon it, that he loves her;
For here's a paper written in his hand,
A halting sonnet, of his own pure brain;
Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero.
And here's another,
Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket.
Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene.

A miracle! here's our own hands against

our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but by this light, I take thee for pity.

Beat.

I would yet deny you, but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life; for as I was told, you were in a consumption.

Bene.

Peace, I will stop your mouth.

Pedro.

How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

Bene.

I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost thou think I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it. And therefore, never flout at me, for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin.

Claud.

I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgel'd thee.

Bene.

Come, come, we are friends, Let's have a dance, e're we are marry'd, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels.

Leon.

We'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene.

First, o' my word; therefore, play music. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend, than one tipt with horn.

Mess.
My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
And brought, with armed men, back to Messina.* ^note

Bene.

Think not on him till to-morrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers.