Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulThere, Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend; [ness.- To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, Not to be married, 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- [her, Claud. I know what you would say: If I have known You'll 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 a sister, shew'd Bashful sincerity and comely love. Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy seeming! I will write against it: You seem to me as Dian in her orb; As chaste as is the bud, ere 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? What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about Leon. Are these things spoken? or do I but dream? Hero. Claud. Leonato, stand I here ? [true. True, O God! 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. Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Claud. Marry, that can Hero; What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. D. John. Fy, fy! they are Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart! Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink you down? [light, D. John. Come let us go: these things, come thus to Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio. Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think Help, uncle ! Hero! why, Hero!-Uncle!-Signior Benedick!--Friar! Beat. How now, cousin Hero? Dost thou look up? Friar. Have comfort, lady. Friar. Yea: wherefore should she not? [thing Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; Bene. Sir, sir, be patient: For my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say. Reat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow 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 loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her; let her die. For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool; Leon. A sin of perjury; she not denies it: Way seek'st thou then to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accused 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, Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour. And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies. Leon. I know not: If they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, Nor fortune made such havock of my means, Friar. And publish it, that she is dead indeed; 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? Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf That what we have we prize not to the worth, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, More moving-delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she lived indeed, then shall he mourn, (If ever love had interest in his liver,) And wish he had not so accused her; No, though he thought his accusation true. Let this be so, and doubt not but success Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you : And though, 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. The smallest twine may lead me. Being that I flow in grief, cure. Friar. '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 Friar, Hero, and Leonato. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? |