Bene. How now! Interjections? why, then fome be of laughing, as ha, ha, he! Claud. Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave; Will you with free and unconstrained foul Give me this maid your daughter? Leon. As freely fon, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whofe worth May counterpoife this rich and precious gift? 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. She's but the fign and femblance of her honour: Nct knit my foul to an approved Wanton. Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own approof (16) Have vanquish'd the refiftance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity [her, Claud. I know what you would say: if I have known (16) Dear my Lord, if you in your own Proof,] I am furpriz'd, the poetical editors did not obferve the lameness of this verfe. It evidently wants a fyllable in the laft foot, which I have reftor'd by a word, which, I prefume, the firft editors might hefitate at; tho' it is a very proper one, and a word elsewhere ufed by our author. Anth. and Cleop. Sifter, prove fuch a wife As my thoughts make thee, and my farthest bond Befides, in the paffage under examination, this word comes in almost neceffarily, as Claudio had faid in the line immediately preceding; Not knit my foul to an approved wanten. C 4 You'll You'll fay, fhe did embrace me as a husband, No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large; Hero. And feem'd I ever otherwife to you! Claud. Out on thy Seeming! I will write againft it; You feem to me as Dian in her orb, As chafte as is the bud ere it be blown, But you are more intemperate in your blood That rage in favage fenfuality. Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speak so wide ? 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? John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This looks not like a Nuptial. Hero. True! O God! Claud. Leonato, ftand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother? Is this face Hero's ? are our eyes our own? Leon. All this is fo; 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 fo, as thou art my child. 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 herfelf can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Hero. Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord. Pedro. Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am forry, you must hear; upon mine Honour, Myfelf, my Brother, and this grieved Count Did fee her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window; Who hath, indeed, moft like a liberal villain, Confefs'd the vile encounters they have had A thoufand times in fecret. John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, Not to be spoken of; There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadft thou been, Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? Beat. Why, how now, Coufin, wherefore fink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light, · Smother her spirits up. [Exe. D. Pedro, D. John and Claud. Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think; help, uncle. Hero! why Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick! friar! Lean. O fate! take not away thy heavy hand; Death is the fairest cover for her fhame, That may be wifh'd for. Beat. How now, coufin Hero? Friar. Have comfort, Lady. Leon. Doft thou look up? Friar. Yea, wherefore fhould the not? Leon. Wherefore? why, doth not every earthly thing Cry fhame upon her? could the here deny The ftory that is printed in her blood? Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes: Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ; Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient; For my part, I am fo attir'd in wonder, Beat. O, on my foul, my coufin is bely'd. Bene. Lady, were you her bed fellow last night? Leon. Confirm'd; confirm'd ! O, that is ftronger made, Wash'd it with tears? hence from her, let her die. For I have only been filent fo long, And given way unto this courfe of fortune, By noting of the lady. I have mark’d A thousand blufhing apparitions To start into her face: a thousand innocent fhames And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, To To burn the errors that these Princes hold Leon. Friar, it cannot be ; Thou feeft, that all the grace that she hath left, Why feeks thou then to cover with excuse That, which appears in proper nakedness ? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? Hero. They know, that do accuse me: I know none; If I know more of any man alive, Than that which maiden modefty doth warrant, Friar. There is fome ftrange mifprifion in the Princes. And if their wifdoms be misled in this, The Practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whofe fpirits toil in frame of villanies. Leon. I know not: if they speak but truth of her, Nor fortune made fuch havock of my means, |