Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this Count? Hero. I do. Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, I charge you on your fouls to utter it. Claud. Know you any, Hero? Friar. Know you any, Count? Leon. I dare make his anfwer, 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 fome be of laughing, as ha, ha, he! Claud. Stand thee by, friar: father, .by your leave; Will you with free and unconftrained foul Give me this maid your daughter? Leon. As freely, fon, as God did give her me. May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. nefs: There, Leonato, take her back again; Give not this rotten orange to your friend. ΑΠ Not knit my foul to an approved Wanton. Leon. 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 Claud. I know what you would fay: if I have known her, You'll fay, fhe did embrace me as a husband, No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large; Bashful fincerity, and comely love. Hero. And feem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy Seeming! I will write against 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 fpeak fo wide? I ftand difhonour'd, that have gone about Leon. Are these things fpoken, or do I but dream? Hero. True! O God! Claud. Leonato, ftand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's Brother? (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 Syllable 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 fartheft Band Befides, in the Paffage under Examination, this Word comes in almoft Gg 4 Leon. Leon. All this is fo; but what of this, my lord? Claud. Let me but move one queftion to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her anfwer truly. Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Hero. O God defend me, how am I befet! 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 her felf can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talk'd with you yefternight Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lord. John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord, There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence, to utter them: thus, pretty lady, Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? Beat. Beat. Why, how now, Coufin, wherefore fink you down? John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light, Smother her fpirits 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! That may be with'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 story that is printed in her blood? Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes: To her foul tainted flefh! Bene, Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient; For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, Beat. O, on my foul, my coufin is bely'd. I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron. For I have only been filent fo long, And given way unto this courfe of fortune, A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames If this fweet lady lie not guiltless here, Leon. Friar, it cannot be; Thou feeft, that all the grace that the hath left, A fin of perjury; the not denies it: Why feek'st thou then to cover with excufe That, which appears in proper nakedness? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? Hero. They know, that do accufe me; I know none: If I know more of any man alive, Than that which maiden modefty doth warrant, |