Claud. Not to be married, Not knit my soul to an approved wanton Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, I never tempted her with word too large; 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; blood But you are more intemperate in your Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? true. Hero. True, O Heaven! Claud. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother? Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my lord ? 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 Heaven defend me! how I am beset ! 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 just reproach ? Claud. Marry, that can Hero; Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he, talk'd with you yesternight, Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. I am sorry, you must hear;-Upon mine honour, John. Fie, fie! they are Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of; Claud. O Hero, what an angel hadst thou been, And never shall it more be gracious. [HERO swoons. [Exeunt DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, and CLAUDIO. Bened. How doth the lady? Beatr. 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 shame, That may be wish'd for. Beatr. How now, cousin Hero? 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 Do not live, Hero: do not ope thine eyes: For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, Beatr. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! Oh, that is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! Wash'd it with tears? Hence! from her! let her die! For I have only silent been so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady: I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions start Trust not my reading, nor my observation, My reverence, calling, nor divinity; Leon. Friar, it cannot be : Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, Why seek'st thou, then, to cover with excuse 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, Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes. Bened. 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, Leon. I know not; if they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Friar. Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here, the princes left for dead; Let her a while be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead indeed. Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do? Friar. She dying, as it must be maintain'd, Upon the instant that she was accus'd, Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd, Of every hearer; So will it fare with Claudio: And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, Than when she liv'd indeed: then shall he mourn, you: Bened. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise Is As secretly, and justly, as your soul Should with your body. Leon. Being, that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. Friar. 'Tis well consented; presently, away; Come, lady, die, to live: this wedding day, Perhaps, is but prolong'd; have patience, and endure. [Exeunt all but BENEDICK and BEATRICE. Bened. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? Beatr. Yea, and I will weep a white longer. Bened. I will not desire that. Beatr. You have no reason: I do it freely. Bened. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. Beatr. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her! Bened. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beatr. It is a man's office, but not yours. |