Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's

2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth,|| no more sailing by the star.

Beat What means the fool, trow? Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!

Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume.

Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold.

Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how En-long have you profess'd apprehension?

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

Verg. And so am I.

Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina.

Leon. I dare make his answer, none.
Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do!
what men daily do! not knowing what they do!
Bene. How now! interjections? Why, then
some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he!
Claud. Stand thee by, friar :-Father, by your
leave;

Will you with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid, your daughter?

Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking;
as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out;
God help us! it is a world to see!-Well said,
i'faith, neighbour Verges:-well, God's a good
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 wor-
shipped: all men are not alike; alas, good neigh-There, Leonato, take her back again;
bour!
Give not this rotten orange to your friend;

Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose
worth,

May counterpoise this rich and precious gift.
D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.
Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank-

fulness.

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of She's but the sign and semblance of her honour

you.

Dogb. Gifts, that God gives.
Leon. I must leave you.

Dogb. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have, indeed, comprehended two auspicious 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.

Behold, how like a maid she blushes here:
O, what authority and show of truth
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 luxurious2 bed:
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Claud.
Not to be married,

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Not knit my soul to an approved wanton.

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 excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt.

Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof
Have vanquish'd the 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:
No, Leonato,

I never tempted her with word too large ;3
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:
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 ?4

Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?
D. Pedro.
What should I speak?

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 dream?
D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things

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
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 liberall 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 eye-lids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.2
Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for
me?
[Hero swoons.
Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink
you down?

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.

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 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: I 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 appear'd 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 tenor 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,
D. John. Come, let us go: these things, come Is, that she will not add to her damnation

thus to light,

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!

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?
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 I for that at frugal nature's frame ?3
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 smirched 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 1 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

(1) Too free of tongue. (2) Attractive.
(3) Disposition of things.

A sin of perjury; she not denies it:
Why 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,
Let all my sins lack mercy!-O my father,
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.

Friar. There is some strange misprisions 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 villanies.

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.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,

Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind,
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them thoroughly.

Friar.
Pause a while,
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:

Maintain a mourning ostentation;
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 be-
half

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 fails out,

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 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.

That what we have we prize not to the worth,
Whiles! we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost,
Why, then we rack2 the value; then we find
The virtue, that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours:-So will it fare with Clau-none is left to protest.
dio:

When he shall hear she died upon3 his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep

Into his study of imagination;

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 liv'd 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
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim 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 ad ise 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 twine 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. [Exe. Friar, Hero, and Leon.
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.

Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that

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.
Bene. Beatrice,-

Beat. In faith I will go.

Bene. We'll be friends first.

Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy.

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?

Beat. Is he not approv'd in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman?--O, that I were a man!-What! bear her in hands until they come to take hands; and then with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.

Bene. Hear me, Beatrice;

Beat. Talk with a man out at a window?-a proper saying!

Bene. Nay but, Beatrice;

Beat. Sweet Hero!—she is wronged, she is slandered, she undone.

Bene. Beat

Beat. Princes, and counties !6 Surely a princely testimony, a goodly count-confect; a sweet gallant, 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 :--I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice: by this hand I 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 flero?

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

Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as your cousin: I must say, she is dead; and so fareyou; is not that strange?

well.

[Exeunt.

(6) Noblemen. (7) A nobleman made out of sugar. (8) Ceremony.

SCENE II-A prison. Enter Dogberry, Ver-
ges, and Sexton, in goons; 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. Let them be in band.
Con. Off, coxcomb!

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

Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.
Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost

Verg. Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibi-thou not suspect my years?-O that he were here tion 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.

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

Con. Bora. Yea, sir, we hope.

Dogb. Write down-that they hope they serve God:-and write God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains!-Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false

to write me down-an ass!-but, masters, remem-
ber, that I am an ass; though it be not written
villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved
down, yet forget not that I am an ass :---No, thou
upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow;
and, which is more, an officer; and, which is more
a householder: and, which is more, as pretty a
piece of flesh as any is in Messina; and one that
knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough,
go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one
about him:-Bring him away. O, that I had been
[Exeunt.
that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome
writ down-an ass.

ACT V.

knaves; and it will go near to be thought so short- SCENE 1-Before Leonato's house. Entr ly. How answer you for yourselves?

Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. Dogb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about with him.-Come you hither, sirrah; a word in your ear, sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.

Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. Dogb. Well, stand aside.-'Fore God, they are both in a tale: have you writ down-that they are

none?

Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way to examine; you must call forth the watch that are

their accusers.

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.
Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,
Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child,
And bid him speak of patience;
Measure his wo the length and breadth of mine,
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
And iet it answer every strain for strain;
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form:
If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard;
Cry-sorrow, wag! and hem, when he should groan;
With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
brother-Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortunes drunk
And I of him will gather patience.

way

that's the eftest :-Let Dogb. Yea, marry, the watch 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

villain.

Bora. Master constable,

Dogb. Pray thee, fellow, peace; I do not like But there is no such man: For, brother, men 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.

Serton. And this is more, masters, than

you can

deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this, suddenly died-Master constable, let these men will go be bound, and brought to Leonato's; before, and show him their examination. Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned. (2) Admonition. (1) Bond.

[Exit.

Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ache with air, and agony with words:
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:
Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ.
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.2
Leon. I pray thee, peace: I will be flesh and
blood;

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