Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [Ex. Leon. Dogb. Go, good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail ; we are now to examine those men.

Verg. And we must do it wifely.

Dogb. We will fpare for no wit, I warrant; here's That fhall drive fome of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to fet down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail. [Exeunt.

Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice.

LEONATO.

OME, friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain

C form of marriage, and you fhall recount their par

ticular duties afterwards.

Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? Claud. No.

Leon. To be marry'd to her, friar; you come tɔ marry her.

Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count?

Hero. 1 do.

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

Claud. Know you any, Hero?

Hero. None, my Lord.

Friar. Know you any, Count?

Leon. I dare make his anfwer, none.

Claud. O what men dare do! what men may

do!

what men daily do! not knowing what they do!

Bene.

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 unconftrained 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 counterpoife this rich and precious gift?
Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.
Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes:
There, Lonato, take her back again;

Give not this rotten orange to your friend.
She's but the fign and femblance of her honour:
Behold, how like a maid the bluthes here!
O, what authority and thew of truth
Can cunning fin cover itfelf withal!

Comes not that blood, as modeft evidence,
To witnefs fimple virtue? would you not fwear,
All you that fee her, that the were a maid,
By these exterior fhews? but he is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltinefs, not modefty.
Leon. What do you mean, my Lord?
Claud. Not to be marry'd,

Not knit my foul to an approved Wanton.

Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own approof (16) Have vanquish'd the refiftance of her youth,

And made defeat of her virginity

[her,

Claud. I know what you would say: if I have known

(16) Dear my Lord, if you in your own Proof,] I am surpriz'd, the poetical editors did not obferve the lameness of this verfe. It evidently wants a fyllable in the last foot, which I have reftor'd by a word, which, I prefume, the first editors might hefitate at; tho' it is a very proper one, and a word elfewhere ufed by our author. Anth. and Cleop.

Sifter, prove fuch a wife

As my thoughts make thee, and my fartheft bond
Shall pafs on thy Approof.

Befides, in the paffage under examination, this word comes in almoft neceffarily, as Claudio had faid in the line immediately preceding ; Not knit my foul to an approved wanton.

C 4

You'll

You'll fay, the did embrace me as a husband,
And fo extenuate the forehand fin.

No, Leonato,

I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to his fifter, fhew'd
Bafhful fincerity, and comely love.

Hero. And feem'd I ever otherwife to you!
Cland. Out on thy Seeming! I will write against it;
You feem to me as Dian in her orb,

As chafle as is the bud ere it be blown,

Bat you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or thofe pamper'd animals

That rage in favage fenfuality.

Elero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speak fo wide?
Lun. Sweet Prince, why speak not you?
Pedro. What fhould I speak?

I fland difhonour'd, that have gone about

To link my dear friend to a common Stale.

Leon. Are thefe things fpcken, or do I but dream John. Sir, they are fpoken, and thefe things are true. Bene. This looks not like a Nuptial.

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 child.
Hero. O God defend me, how am I befet!
What kind of catechizing call you this?

Claud. 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 herfelf can blot out Hero's virtue.

What man was he talk'd with you yefternight
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.

Hero.

Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord. Pedro. Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am forry, you must hear; upon mine Honour, Myfelf, my Brother, and this grieved Count Did fee her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window; Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confefs'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in fecret.

John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, Not to be fpoken of;

There is not chaflity enough in language,

Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady,
I am forry for thy much mifgovernment.

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been,
If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
About the thoughts and counfels of thy heart?
But fare thee well, moft foul, molt fair! farewel,
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity!
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eyelids fhall Conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm;
And never fhall it more be gracious.

Leon Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? Beat. Why, how now, Coufin, wherefore fink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light, Smother her fpirits 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! friar!
Leon. O fate! take not away thy heavy hand;

Death is the fairest 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. Yea, wherefore thould she not?

Leon. Wherefore? why, doth not every earthly thing Cry fhame upon her? could fhe 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 fpirits were ftronger than thy fhames,
Myfelf 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 waft thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not, with charitable hand,
Took up a beggar's iffue at my gates?
Who fmeered thus, and mir'd with infamy,
1 might have faid, no part of it is mine;
This fhame derives itself from unknown loins:
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on, mine fo much,
That I myself was to myself not mine;
Valuing of her; why, fhe,- O, fhe is fall'n
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again;
And falt too little, which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!

Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient;

For my part, I am fo attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to fay.

Beat. O, on my foul, my coufin 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 two Princes lie ? and Claudio lie?
Who lov'd her fo, that, fpeaking of her foulness,
Wafh'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 courfe of fortune,
By noting of the lady. I have mark'd

A thoufand blufhing apparitions

To start into her face; a thousand innocent fhames

In angel whitenefs bear away those blushes ;

And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,

To