Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dogb. 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 FRANCIS, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and Attendants. C Leon. |OME, 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? Hero. None, my lord. 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. 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; Would you not swear, She knows the heat of a luxurious bed: Not to be married, Not to knit my soul to an approvèd wanton. Claud. I know what you would say; if I have known her, You'll say, she did embrace me as her husband, And so extenuate the 'forehand sin: No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large; Bashful sincerity, and comely love. Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on the 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; That rage in savage sensuality. Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you? 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 tut dream? D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Hero. True? O God! Claud. Leonato, stand 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 so: but what of this, my lord? Claud. Let me but move one question to ycur 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 beset!What kind of catechising 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. What man was he talk'd with you yesternight Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden.- I am sorry you must hear: Upon mine honour, D. John. Fie, fie! they are Not to be named, my lord, not to be spoken of; There is not chastity enough in language, 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 About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart! But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for [HERO SWOONS. me? 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 That may be wish'd for. Beat. How now, cousin Hero? Friar. Have comfort, lady. Leon. Dost thou look up? Friar. Yea; wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earth ly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes : Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, |