I might have said, No part of it is mine, Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; 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. Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! die. Friar. Hear me a little; For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, The tenour of my book;' trust not my age, Leon. Friar, it cannot be: Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, A sin of perjury; she not denies it : Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? 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;2 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, Nor fortune made such havock of my means, 1 2 of my book;] i. e. of what I have read. bent of honour;] Bent is used by our author for the utmost degree of any passion, or mental quality. In this play before, Benedick says of Beatrice, her affection has its full bent. Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, Friar. Pause a while, And publish it, that she is dead indeed: Leon. 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: That what we have we prize not to the worth, Into his study of imagination; And every lovely organ of her life 3 — we rack the value;] i. e. we exaggerate the value. The allusion is to rack-rents. Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, Than when she liv'd indeed:-then shall he mourn, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. As secretly, and justly, as your soul Leon. Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. Friar. 'Tis well consented; presently away; 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. my inwardness] i. e. intimacy. 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 my cousin. for 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 I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word? Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it: I protest, I love thee. Beat. Why then, God forgive me! Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I loved you. Bene. And do it with all thy heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to deny it: Farewell. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, though I am here;-There is no love in you:-Nay, I pray you, let me go. |