Bene. How now! interjections? why then, fome be of laughing, as, ha, ha, he! Claud. Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave; Will you with free and unconstrained foul Give me this maid your daughter ? Leon. As freely, fon, as god did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whofe 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 fign and femblance of her honour: Leon. What do you mean, my lord? Not knit my foul to an approv'd wanton. Leon. Dear my lord, if you in your own approof Have vanquifh'd the refiftance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity Claud. I know what you would fay: if I have known her, You'll fay, she did embrace me as a husband, And fo extenuate the forehand fin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large; Hero. And feem'd I ever otherwise to you?' Claud Claud. Out on thy feeming! I will write against it: You feem'd to me as Dian in her orb; As chafte as is the bud ere it be blown : But you are more intemperate in your blood Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak fo wide? I ftand 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. Hero. True! o god! Claud. Leonato, ftand 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 fo; 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 fo, as thou art my Hero. O god defend me! how am I befet! What kind of catechizing call you this? child. Leon. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any juft reproach? Claud. Marry, that can Hero; Hero herself can blot out Hero's virtue. lord. Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Pedro. Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am forry you must hear; upon mine honour, My Myself, my brother, and this grieved count, Did fee her, hear her, at that hour last night, John. Fie! they are Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoken of; Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadft thou been, If half thy outward graces had been plac'd Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [Hero fwoons. Beat. Why, how now, coufin, wherefore fink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Exe. D. Pedro, D. John, and Claud. SCENE IL Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think; help, uncle. Hero! why, Hero! uncle! fignior Benedick! friar ! Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand! Death is the faireft cover for her fhame, That may be wifh'd for. Beat. How now, coufin Hero? Friar. Have comfort, lady. Leon. Doft thou look up? Friar. Friar. Yea; wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore? why, doth not every earthly thing Bene. Sir, fir, be patient; For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, Beat. O, on my foul, my coufin is bely'd! Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow laft night? I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! o, that is stronger made, Wash'd Wash'd it with tears? hence from her, let her die. Friar. Hear me a little; For I have only been filent fo 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 If this fweet lady lie not guiltless here Leon. It cannot be; Thou feeft, that all the grace, that she hath left, A fin of perjury; fhe not denies it: Why feek'st thou then to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness ? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? If I know more of any man alive Than that which maiden modefty doth warrant, 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, Friar. There is fome ftrange mifprifion in the princes. "The practice of it lives in John the bastard, VOL. I. Whofe |