Friar. (L. C.)
Did not I tell you she was innocent?

Leon. (L.)
So are the Prince and Claudio, who accused her,
Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears.

Antonio. (C.)
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.

Bened. (R. C.)
And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. (to the Ladies who stand, R.)
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 promised by this hour
To visit me. Exeunt Beatrice, Hero, and all the Ladies, R.
You know your office, brother;
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.

Antonio.
Which I will do with a confirm'd countenance.

Bened.
Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.

Friar.
To do what, Signior?

Bened.
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.

Bened.
And I do with an eye of love requite her.

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

Bened.
Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:
But, for my will, my will is, your good-will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined

In the estate of honourable marriage;—
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.

Leon.
My heart is with your liking.

Friar.
And my help.
Here come the Prince and Claudio. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants, L.

Don P.
Good-morrow to this fair assembly.

Leon.
We here attend you: are you yet determined
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?

Claudio.
I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiop.

Leon.
Call her forth, brother: here's the friar ready. Exit Antonio, R.

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

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

Bened. (L.)
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.
Oh, here they come! Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Ursula, and other Ladies, masked, R.

Claudio.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Antonio. (R.)
This same is she, and I do give you her. (presenting Hero)

Claudio.
Why then she is mine: Sweet, let me see your face.

Leon. (L. C.)
No, that you shall not, till you take her hand
Before this friar, and swear to marry her.

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

Hero.
And when I lived, I was your other wife; (unmasking)
And when you loved, you were my other husband.

Claudio.
Another Hero?

Hero.
Nothing certainer:
One Hero died defiled, but I do live,
And, surely as I live, I am innocent.

Don P.
The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!

Leon.
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd.

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

Bened. (L. C.)
Soft and fair, Friar. Which is Beatrice?

Beatrice. (R. C.)
I answer to that name. (Beatrice and the other Ladies unmask, and all go up)
What is your will?

Bened.
Do not you love me?

Beatrice.
Why, no; no more than reason.

Bened.
Why, then, your uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio,
Have been deceived—they swore you did.

Beatrice.
Do not you love me?

Bened.
Troth, no; no more than reason.

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

Bened.
They swore that you were almost sick for me.

Beatrice.
They swore that you were well nigh dead for me.

Bened.
'Tis no such matter:—Then, you do not love me!

Beatrice.
No, truly, but in friendly recompense.

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

Claudio. (L.)
And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her;
For here's a paper, written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashioned to Beatrice. (gives the paper to Beatrice)

Hero.
And here's another,
Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick. (gives the paper to Benedick, and returns to R. of Claudio)

Bened.

A miracle!—here's our own hands against our hearts! Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

Beatrice.

I would not deny you;—but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to save your life; for I was told you were in a consumption.

Bened.

Peace, I will stop your mouth.

Don P. (L. C.)

How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? (all laugh)

Bened. (C.)

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.