Dogh. Gifts, that God gives. Dogh. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have, indeed, comprehended two aspicious 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. Dogh. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you 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. Dogh. 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. Dogh. 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. ACT IV. SCENE I. The inside of a church. Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, &c. Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? Claud. No. Leon. To be married to her, friar; you come to marry her. Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? Hero. I do. Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utter it. Claud. Know you any, Hero? Friar. Know you any, count? 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 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 thankfulness. There, Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend; To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. * Lascivious. bed: Leon. What do you mean, my lord? Leon. Dear, my lord, if you, in your own proof Claud. I know what you would say; if I have known her, You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large* ; 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 That rage in savage sensuality. Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide + ? 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 are true. Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Hero. True, O God! Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother? 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 * Licentious. + Remote from the business in hand. That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 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 talked with no man at that hour, my lord. nato, I am sorry you must hear; upon mine honour, D. John. 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 Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [Hero swoons. Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink down? you D. John. Come, let us go: these things, come thus 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? Dost thou look up? Friar. Have comfort, lady. Friar. Yea; wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore? Why doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; VOL. II. |