Into her face; a thousand innocent shames 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 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, Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of ho nour; 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, These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her ho nour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor fortune made such havock of my means, Friar. Pause a-while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. That appertain unto a burial. 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: Shall be lamented, pitied and excus'd, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she liv'd indeed:-then shall he mourn, No, though he thought his accusation true. Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise 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; cure. Come, lady, die to live: this wedding day, Perhaps, is but prolong'd; have patience, and endure. of [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 wrong'd. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve me, that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? 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 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. 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: Farewel. 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 approved in the height a villain, that hath slander'd, scorn'd, dishonour'd my kinswoman?-O, that I were a man!-What! bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then with publick accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,-O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. |