Will 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; Not to be married, Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. 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, 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; blood 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 D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Hero. Claud. Leonato, stand I here? 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 That you have in her, bid her answer truly. Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Hero. O God defend me! how am I bését! 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. 7 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, D. John. 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! farewel, 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, F To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, me? Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for [Hero swoons. Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink you down? D. John. Come, let us go: these things, come 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, Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood?- Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? 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! Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness, 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 |