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Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man I ving, that is an old man, and no ho

nester than 1.

Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers, but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king. I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.

Leon. All thy tediousness on me! ha?

Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis; for 1 hear as good exclamation on your worship, as of any iman in the city; and though I be but a poor man, lam glad to hear it. Verg. And so am 1.

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May counterpoise this rich and precions gift.
D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her
again.
Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank-
fulness.-
There, Leonato, take her back again:
Give not this rotten orange to your friend;

Leon. I would fain know what you have to say.
Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, except-
ing your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple
of as arrant knaves as any in Messina.
Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking;
as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out; She's but the sign and semblance of her honour.
God help us! it is a world to see! Well said. Behold, how like a maid she blushes here:
f'faith, neighbour Verges:--well, God's a good 0, what authority, and show of truth

man ; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride

behind-An honest soul, i' faith, sir! by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but, God is to be worshipped: All men are not alike; alas! good neighbour!

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.

Dogb. Gifts, that God gives.

Leon. I must leave you.

Dogb. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have, indeed, comprehended two aspicions persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.

Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me: I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.

Dogb. It shall be suffigance.

Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood, as modest evidence,
To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,
All you that see her, that she were a maid,
By these exterior shows?-But she is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed:
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Claud.

Not to be married,

Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.
Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof
Have vanquish'd the resistance resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginity,-

Claud. I know what you would say; If I have
known her,

You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the 'forehand sin:

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go; fare you No, Leonato,

well.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your
daughter to her husband.
Leon. I

will wait upon them; I am ready.
[Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.
Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis
Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to
the gaol; we are now to examination these men.
Verg. And we must do it wisely.
Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant
you; here's that [Touching his forehead.] shall
drive some of them to a non com: only get the
learned writer to set down our excommunica-
tion, and meet me at the gaol.
[Exeunt.

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I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to his sister, show'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:

wide?

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
Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?
D. Pedro.
I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common stale.
Leon. Are these things spoken? or do I but
D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things
Bene. This looks not like a Luptial.
Hero.

dream ?

are true.

What should I speak?

True, O God!

Claud. Leonato, stand 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 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.
Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
Hero. O God, defend me! how am I beset!
What kind of entechizing call you this?

Claud. To make you answer truly to your name
Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name

With any just reproach?

Claud.

Marry, that can Hero;

Hero itself can blot ont Hero's virtue,

Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made,

What man was he talk'd with you you yesternight
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my
lord.

D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden.
Leonato,

I am sorry you must hear: Upon mine honour, Myself, my brother, and this grieved count, Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night, Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window; Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess'd the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret.

D. John.

Fie, fie! they are Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of; There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence, to utter them: Thus, pretty lady,

I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

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! But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,

Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, never shall it more be gracious. Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for [Hero swoons.

And

me ?

Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink

you down?

D. John. Come, let us go: these things, come

thus to light,

Smother her spirits up.

Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron!,
Would the two princes lie 7 and Claudio lie?
Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her; let her
die.

Friar. Hear me a little;
For I have only been silent so long,
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady: 1 have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions start
Into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appeared a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth: Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading, nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenour of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.
Leon.

Friar, it cannot be:
Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left,
Is, that she will not add to her damnation
A sin of perjury; she not denies it;
Why seck'st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?
Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd 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,
Let all my sins luck mercy!-O my father.
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
At hours unmeet, er that I yesternight

[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio. Maintain'd the change of words with any creaBene. How doth the lady? Beat.

Dead, I think;-help, uncle;Hero! why, Hero!-Uncle!-Signior Benedick!

-friar?

ture,

Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.
Friar. There is some strange misprision in the

princes.

Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand!
Death is the fairest cover for her shame,
That may be wish'd for.
Beat.
How now, cousin Hero. The practice of it lives in John the bastard,

Bene. Two of them have the very bent of ho
nour;

Friar. Have comfort, lady.
Leon. Dost thou look up?
Friar.

Yea; wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing

Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?-
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:

For did I think thou would'st not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,

Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid 1 for that at frugal nature's frame?
O. one too much by thee! Why had I one ?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not, with charitable hand,
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates;
Who smirch'd thus, and mired with infamy,
I might have said, No part of it is mine,

This shame 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 so much,
That I myself was to myself not mine,

Valuing of her: why, she-O, she is fallen
Into a pit of ink! that the wide sea

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again;
And salt too little, which may season give

To her foul tainted flesh!

Bene.

Sir, sir, be patient;

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

Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? Beat. No, truly not: although, until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.

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And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead;

Let her awhile be secretly kept in,

And publish it, that she is dead indeed:
Maintain a mourning ostentation;
And on your family's old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.
Leon.

on. What shall become of this? What will
this do?

Friar. Marry, this well carried, shall on her

behalf

Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that, dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd,
Of every hearer: For it so falls out,

That what we have we prize not to the wortha
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost,

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Into the eye and prospect of his soul,

Beat. Is he not approved in the height a vil lain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman 7-0, that I were a man!-What! bear her in hand until they come to take hands;

Than when she liv'd indeed:-then shall he and then with public accusation, uncovered

mourn,

slander, unmitigated rancour, -0 God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market

place.

(If ever love had interest in his liver,)
And wish he had not so accus'd her;
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aiın but this be levell'd false,
The supposition of the lady's death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her
(As best befits her wounded reputation,)
In some reclusive and religious life.

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.

Being that I flow in grief,

The smallest wine may lead me.

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? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that.

Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is

wrong'd.

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her

Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?

Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.
Bene. May a man do it?

Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours.

Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as

you? Is not that strange?

Beat. As strange as the thing I know not: It were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing: -I am sorry for my cousin.

Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it.

Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me; and 1 will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word?

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Beat. Princes, and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-confect; a sweet gal. lant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it:-1 cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice By this hand, 1 love thee.

Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.

Bene. Think you in your soul the count Claudio hath wronged Hero ?

Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a soul.

Bene. Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge him; I will kiss your hand, and so leave you: By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account: As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin; I must say, she is dead; and so, farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Prison.

Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, with Conrade and Borachio.

Dogb. Is our whole dissembly appeared?
Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.
Sexton. Which be the malefactors?

Dogb. Marry, that am I and my partner.

Verg. Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibition to examine.

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master constable.

Dogb. Yea, marry, let them come before me.What is your name, friend?

Bora. Borachio.

Dogb. Pray write down-Borachio. - Yours, sirrah?

Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is

Conrade

Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it:

I protest, I love thee.

Dogb. Write down-master gentleman Conrade.-Masters, do you serve God?

Beat. Why then, God forgive me!

Con. Bora. Yea, sir, we hope.

Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice?

Dogb. Write down-that they hope they serve

Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour; I God:-and write God first; for God defend but

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Beat. I am gone, though I am here: There is Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. no love in you:-Nay, I pray you, let me go.

Dogb Well, stand aside.-'Fore God, they are

both in a tale: Have you writ down-that they In every lineament, branch, shape, and form: are none ? If such a one wiil smile, and stroke his beard: Sexton, Master constable, you go not the way Cry sorrow, wag! and heim, when he should to examine; you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.

Dogb. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way:Let the watch com come forth:-Masters, I charge you, in the prince's name, accuse these men. 1 Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's brother, was a villain.

Dogb. Write down-prince John a villain: Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother-villain.

Bora. Master constable,

groan;

Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk

With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.

But there is no such man: For, brother, men
Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter strong maduess in a silken thread,

Dogb. 'Pray thee, fellow, peace; I do not like Charm ache with air, and agony with words:

thy look, I promise thee.

Sexton. What heard you him say else?

2 Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully.

Dogb. Flat burglary, as ever was committed.
Verg. Yea, by the mass, that it is.

Sexton. What else, fellow?

1 Watch. And that count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her.

Dogb. O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.

Sexton. What else?

2 Watch. This is all?

Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner acensed,

No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow:
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency,

To be so moral, when he shall endure

The like himself: therefore give me no counsel:
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Ant. Therein do men from children nothing
differ.

Leon. I pray thee, peace: I will be flesh and
blood;

For there was never yet philosopher,
That could endure the tooth-ache patiently;
However they have writ the style of gods,
And made a push at chance and sutlerance.
Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upen yourself;
Make those, that do offend you, suffer too.
Leon. There thou speak'st reason: nay, 1
will do so;

in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of My soul doth tell me Hero is belied, this suddenly died.-Master constable, let these And that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince, men be bound, and brought to Leonato's; I And all of them, that thus dishonour her.

will go before, and show him their examination.

Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned.
Verg. Let them be in the bands-

Con. Off, coxcomb!

Exit.

Dogb. God's my life! where's the sexton? let him write down--the prince's officer, coxcomb. Come, bind them-Thou naughty varlet!

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.

Ant. Here comes the prince, and Claudio hastily.

Good day to both of you.

D. Pedro. Good den, good den.
Claud.
Leon. Hear you, my lords,-
D. Pedro.

We have some haste, Leonato. Leon. Some haste, my lord 1-well, fare you well, my lord:

Are you so hasty now 1-well, all is one.
D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good
old man.

Ant. If he could right himself with quarreling,
Some of us would lie low.

Claud.
Who wrongs him?
Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dis

Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down-an ass;-but, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass: -No, thon villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow; and, which is more, an officer: sembler, thou :and, which is more, a householder; and, which Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in I fear thee not. Messina; and one that knows the law, go to: Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow If it should give your age such cause of fear that hath had losses; and one that hath two In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. gowns, and every thing handsome about him: -Bring him away. O, that I had been writ down-an ass. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. Before Leonato's House.
Enter Leonato and Antonio.

Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself.
And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief
Against yourself.
Leon.

I pray thee, cease thy counsel,

Which falls into mine ears as profitless

As water in a sieve give not me counsel;

Nor let no comforter delight mine ear,
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.

Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at

me:

I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool;
As, under privilege of age, to brag
What 1 have done, being young, or what would

do,

Were I not old Know, Claudio, to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and

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Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
And let it answer every strain for strain;

Bring me a father that so lov'd his child,

Whose joy of her is overwhelım'd like mine,
And bid him speak of patience;

As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,

Leon.

Thine, Clandio; thine, I say.

D. Pedro. You say not right, old man.
Leon.

My lord, my lord,

I'll prove it on his body, if he dare;

Despite his nice fence, and his active practice,
His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood.
Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you.
Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill'd
my child;

If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed;
But that's no matter; let him kill one first;-
Win me and wear me, let him answer me,-
Come, follow me, boy; come, boy, follow me:
Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence;
Nay, as I'm a gentleman, I will.

Leon. Brother,

Ant. Content yourself: God knows, I lov'd

my niece;

And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains;
That dare as well answer a man, indeed,
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue;
Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops!-
Brother Antony,-

Leon.

Ant. Hold you content; What, man ! I know
them, yea,

And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple:
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys,
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander,
Go antickly, and show outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst,
And this is all.

Leon. But, brother Antony, -
Ant.

Come, 'tis no matter;

Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.
D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake

your patience.

My heart is sorry for your daughter's death;
But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proof.

Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear ? Claud. God bless me from a challenge! Bene. You are a villain:-I jest not:-I will make it good how you are, with what you dare, and when you dare:-Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you: Let me hear from you.

Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

D. Pedro. What, a feast? a feast ? Claud. I' faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf's head and a capon; the which if do not carve most curiously, say, my knife's naught.-Shall I not find a woodcock too? Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. D. Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day: I said thou hadst a fine wit: True, says she, a fine little one: No, said 1, a a great wit; Right, says she, a great grOSS one: : Nay, said J, a good wit; Just, said she, it hurts nobody: Nay, said I, the gentleman is wise; Certain, said she, a wise gentleman: Nay, said I, he hath the tongues; That I believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue; there's two tongues. Thus, did she, an hour together, transshape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.

Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said, she cared not.

D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly: the old man's daughter told us all.

Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.

Leon. My lord, my lord,

D. Pe

Pedro.

I will not hear you.

Leon.

No?

Come, brother, away :-I will be heard :-
Ant.

And shall,

Or some of us will smart for it.

[Exeunt Leonato and Antonio,

Enter Benedick.

D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head? Claud. Yea. and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the married man? Bene. Fare you well, boy; you know my mind: I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour; you break jests as braggarts do their

D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man we blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not.-My

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Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.

D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother: What think'st thou? Had we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young for them.

Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both.

Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away: Wilt thou use thy wit?

Bene. It is in my scabbard; Shall I draw it? D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit.-1 will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure

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D. Pedro. He is in earnest.

Claud. In most profound earnest; And, I'll
warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.
D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee ?
Claud. Most sincerely.

D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves oft his wit.

Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.

D. Pedro. But, soft you, let be; pluck up, my heart, and be sad! Did he not say, my brother was fled?

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Dogb. Come, you, sir; if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.

D. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men bound! Borachio, one!

Claud. Hearken to their offence, my lord! D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done?

Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly.

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