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 seek'st thou, then, to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?
Friar. Lady, what man is he you are ac-
cus'd of?
[none;
Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know
If I know more of any man alive, [rant,
Than that which maiden modesty doth war-
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 misprision in
the princes.
[honour;
Bene. Two of them have the very bent of
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,

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 throughly.
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?
[behalf

Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her
Change slander to remorse ;-that is some
good:
[course,
But not for that dream I on this strange
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accused,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused
Of every hearer: for it so falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost,
Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us,
While it was ours.-So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon 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, [mourn,
Than when she liv'd indeed :-then shall he
(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 advise
you:
[love
And though you know my inwardness and
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.

[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 wronged.

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! [ship? Bene. Is there any way to show such friendBeat. A very even way, but no such friend.

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?

I Watch. And that count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. Dogė. 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 accused; in this very manner refused; and, upon the grief of this, suddenly died.-Master constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato's; I will go before, and show him their examination. [Exit.

Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned.
Verg. Let them be in the hands-
Con. Off, coxcomb!

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

Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my years?-Ó 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, thou 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; and, which is more, a householder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any 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 that hath two gowns, and everything handsome about him.-Bring him away.-O that I had been writ down an ass! [Exeunt.

ACT V.

As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
Inevery lineament, branch, shape, and form;-
If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard;
Cry "Sorrow, wag!" and hem, when he
should groan ;
[drunk

Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune
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 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:

My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Ant. Therein do men from children nothing
differ.
[and blood;
Leon. I pray thee, peace! I will be flesh
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 sufferance.
Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon your-
self;

Make those that do offend you suffer too. Leon. There thou speak'st reason: nay, I

will do so.

My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; [prince,
And that shall Claudio know; so shall the
And all of them that thus dishonour her.
Ant. Here come the prince and Claudio
hastily.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.
D. Pedro. Good den, good den.
Claud.
Good day to both of you.
Leon. Hear you, my lords,-
D. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato.
Leon. Some haste, my lord !-well, fare you

well, my lord :

SCENE I.-Before Leonato's House. Enter Leonato and Antonio. Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill self; 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 [mine. But such a one whose wrongs do suit with Bring me a father that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, And bid him speak of patience; [mine, Measure his woe the length and breadth of And let it answer every strain for strain;

Claud.

Marry, beshrew my hand, If it should give your age such cause of fear : In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. Leon. Tush, tush, man! never fleer and

Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and That I am forc'd to lay my reverenice by, [me, And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to trial of a man.

I say thou hast belied mine innocent child : Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,

And she lies buried with her ancestors;
O, in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villainy!
Claud. My villainy!

Leon.
Thine, Claudio: 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 daft 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, sir boy, come, follow me!

Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Leon. Brother, --

Enter Benedick.

D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man we went to seek.

Claud. Now, signior, what news?

Bene. Good day, my lord.

D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part almost a fray.

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 thinkest 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.-I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.

D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale.-Art thou sick, or angry?

Claud. What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the

my niece;

D. Pedro.

Leon.

I will not hear you. No?

you, choose another subject.

Claud. Nay then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross.

more.

D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and I think he be angry indeed. [girdle. Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his 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 dare, 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. [good cheer. Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have 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 I 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 hast a fine wit: "True," says she, "a fine little one.' "No," said I, a great wit: Right," says she, "a great cross one." "Nay," said I, 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:"

a