Leon.

Come Frier Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of Marriage, and you shall recount their particular Duties afterwards.

Frier.

You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady.

Claud.

No.

Leon.

To be marry'd to her, Frier, you come to marry her.

Frier.

Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to the Count.

Hero.

I do.

Frier.

If either of you know any inward Impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your Souls to utter it.

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!

Bene.

How now! Interjections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he.

Claud.
Stand thee by, Frier: Father by your Leave,
Will you with free and unconstrained Soul
Give me this Maid your Daughter?

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?

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:
Behold how like a Maid she blushes here!
O what authority and shew of Truth
Can cunning Sin cover it self withal!

Comes not that Blood, as modest Evidence,
To witness simple Virtue? would you not swear,
All you that see her, that she were a Maid,
By these exterior Shews? But she is none:
She knows the Heat of a luxurious Bed;
Her Blush is Guiltiness, not Modesty.

Leon.
What do you mean, my Lord?

Claud.
Not to be marry'd,
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 Youth,
And made Defeat of her Virginity—

Claud.
I know what you would say: If I have known her,
You will say, she did embrace me as a Husband,
And so extenuate the forehand Sin. No, Leonato,
I never tempted her with Word too large,
But as a Brother to his Sister, shew'd
Bashful Sincerity, and comely Love,

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

Claud.
Out on thee seeming, I will write against it,
You seem to me as Dian in her Orb,
As chaste as is the Bud e'er it be blown:
But you are more intemperate in your Blood
Than Venus, or those pamper'd Animals
That rage in savage Sensuality.

Hero.
Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide?

Leon.
Sweet Prince, why speak not you?

Pedro.
What should I speak?
I stand 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, stand 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 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?

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 self can blot out Hero's Virtue.
What Man was he talkt 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.

Pedro.
Why then you are no Maiden. Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear; upon mine Honour,
My self, 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.

John.
Fie, 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 sorry for thy much Misgovernment.

Claud.
O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been,
If half thy outward Graces had been plac'd
About the Thoughts and Counsels 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 shall it more be gracious.

Leon.
Hath no Man's Dagger here a Point for me?

Beat.
Why how now Cousin, wherefore sink you down?

John.
Come, let us go; these things come thus to light
Smother her Spirits up. [Exe. D. Pedro, D. John and Claud.

Bene.
How doth the Lady?

Beat.
Dead I think: Help, Uncle.
Hero! why Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Frier!

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?

Frier.
Have Comfort, Lady.

Leon.
Dost thou look up?

Frier.
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,
My self would on the Rereward of Reproaches
Strike at thy Life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal Nature's frame?
I've one too much by thee. Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my Eyes?
Why had not I, with charitable Hand,
Took up a Beggar's Issue at my Gates;
Who smeered thus, and mir'd with Infamy,
I might have said, no part of it is mine,
This Shame derives it self 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 my self was to my self not mine,
Valuing of her; why she, O she is fall'n
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.

Beat.
O on my Soul my Cousin is bely'd.

Bene.
Lady, were you her Bedfellow last Night?

Beat.
No truly, not; altho' until last Night
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 Prince lie? and Claudio would he lie,
Who lov'd her so, that speaking of her Foulness,

Wash'd it with Tears? Hence from her, let her die.

Frier.

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

Leon.
Frier, 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?

Frier.
Lady, what Man is he you are accus'd of?

Hero.
They know that do accuse me, I know none:
If I know more of any Man alive
Than that which maiden Modesty doth warrant,
Let all my Sins lack Mercy. O my Father,
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.

Frier.
There is some strange Misprision in the Prince.

Bene.
Two of them have the very bent of Honour,
And if their Wisdoms be miss-led in this,
The Practice of it lives in John the Bastard,
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 dry'd this Blood of mine,
Nor Age so eat up my Invention,

Nor Fortune made such Havock of my Means,
Nor my bad Life rest me so much of Friends,
But they shall find awak'd in such a kind,
Both Strength of Limb, and Policy of Mind,
Ability in Means, and Choice of Friends,
To quit me of them thoroughly.

Frier.
Pause a while,
And let my Counsel sway you in this case.
Your Daughter here the Princess (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.

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

Frier.
Marry, this well carry'd, 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 Travel look for greater Birth:
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the Instant that she was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd
Of every Hearer: For so it 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 shew us
Whilst it was ours; so will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she dy'd upon his Words,
Th' Idea of her Life shall sweetly creep
Into his Study of Imagination,
And every lovely Organ of her Life
Shall come apparel'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, tho' 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 level'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.

Bene.
Signior Leonato, let the Frier advise you,
And tho' 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.

Leon.
Being that I flow in Grief,
The smallest Twine may lead me.

Frier.
'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. Manent 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.

Bene.

Surely I do believe your fair Cousin is wrong'd.

Beat.

Ah how much might the Man deserve of me that would right her!

Bene.

Is there any way to shew 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?

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 lye not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing: I am sorry for my Cousin.

Bene.

By my Sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me.

Beat.

Do not swear by it and eat it.

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 devis'd to it; I protest I love thee.

Beat.

Why then God forgive me.

Bene.

What Offence, sweet Beatrice?

Beat.

You have stay'd me in a happy Hour; I was about to protest I lov'd 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.

Beat.

Kill Claudio.

Bene.

Ha! not for the wide World.

Beat.

You kill me to deny; farewel.

Bene.

Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

Beat.

I am gone tho' 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.

Bene.

Is Claudio thine Enemy?

Beat.

Is he not approved in the height a Villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my Kinswoman? O that I were a Man! What, bear her in Hand until they come to take Hands, and then with publick Accusation, uncover'd Slander, unmittigated Rancour—O God that I were a Man, I would eat his Heart in the Market Place.

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 wrong'd, she is slander'd, she is undone.

Bene.

But—

Beat.

Princes and Counties! surely a princely Testimony, a goodly 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 Curtesies, Valour into Compliment, and Men are only turn'd 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.

Use it for my Love some other way than swearing by it.

Bene.

Think you in your Soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero?

Beat.

Yea, as sure as I have a Thought or a Soul.

Bene.

Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him, I will kiss your Hand, and so leave you; by this Hand, Claudio shall render me dear Account; as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your Cousin, I must say she is dead, and so farewel.

To. Cl.

Is our whole Dissembly appear'd?

Dog.

O a Stool and Cushion for the Sexton.

Sexton.

Which be the Malefactors?

Verg.

Marry that am I, and my Partner.

Dog.

Nay, that's certain, we have the Exhibition to examine.

Sexton.

But which are the Offenders that are to be examined? Let them come before Master Constable.

To. Cl.

Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is your Name Friend?

Bora.

Borachio.

To. Cl.

Pray write down Borachio. Yours Sirrah?

Conr.

I am a Gentleman Sir, and my Name is Conrade.

To. Cl.

Write down Master Gentleman, Conrade; Masters, do you serve God? 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 your selves?

Conr.

Marry, Sir, we say we are none.

To. Cl.

A marvellous witty Fellow I assure you, but I will go about with him. Come you hither, Sirrah, a Word in your Ear, Sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false Knaves.

Bora.

Sir, I say to you, we are none.

To. Cl.

Well, Stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a Tale; have you writ down they are none?

Sexton.

Master Town-Clerk, you go not the way to examine, you must call the Watch that are their Accusers.

To. Cl.

Yea, marry that's the easiest Way, let the Watch come forth; Masters, I charge you in the Prince's Name accuse these Men.

1 Watch.

This Man said, Sir, that Don John, the Prince's Brother, was a Villain.

To. Cl.

Write down, Prince John a Villain; why this is flat Perjury, to call a Prince's Brother Villain.

Bora.

Master Town-Clerk.

To. Cl.

Pray thee Fellow Peace, I do not like thy Look, I promise thee.

Sexton,

What heard you him say else?

2 Watch.

Marry, That he had receiv'd a thousand Ducats of Don John, for the accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.

Kemp.

Flat Burglary as ever was committed.

Dog.

Yea by th' Mass that it is.

Sexton.

What else Fellow?

1 Watch.

And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his Words, to disgrace Hero before the whole Assembly, and not marry her.

To. Cl.

O Villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting Redemption for this.

Sexton.

What else?

2 Watch.

This is all.

Sexton.

And this is more Masters than you can deny, Prince John is this Morning secretly stol'n away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and upon the Grief of this suddenly dy'd. Master Constable, let these Men be bound, and brought to Leonato; I will go before, and shew him their Examination.

Dog.

Come, let them be opinion'd.

Sexton.

Let them be in the Hands of Coxcomb.

Dog.

God's my Life, where's the Sexton? Let him write down the Prince's Officer Coxcomb, come, bind them, thou naughty Varlet.

Conr.

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, tho' it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an Ass; no thou Villain, thou art full of Piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good Witness, I am a wise Fellow, and which is more, an Officer; and which is more an Housholder; and which is more, as pretty a Piece of Flesh as any 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; O that I had been writ down an Ass.