Done to death by slanderous tongues
  Was the Hero that here lies:

Death, in guerdon of her wrongs^{1 note},
  Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life, that died with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.

Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb^{2 note}.—

Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
SONG.
Pardon, goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
  Midnight, assist our moan;
  Help us to sigh and groan,
    Heavily, heavily:
  Graves, yawn, and yield your dead,
  Till death be uttered 11Q0191^{3 note}

,
    Heavily, heavily.

Claud.
Now, unto thy bones good night!
  Yearly will I do this rite^{4 note}.

D. Pedro.
Good morrow, masters: put your torches out.

  The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phœbus, round about
  Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.
Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well.

Claud.
Good morrow, masters: each his several way.

D. Pedro.
Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;
And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud.
And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds,
Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt.