Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother? Leon. 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 beset! 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. 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. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear; Upon mine honour, D. John. Fie, fie! they are Not to be nam'd, my Lord, not to be spoke of; There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence, to utter them: Thus, pretty Lady, 1 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: 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 Bene 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 earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood? Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes: Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, O, she is fallen 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. 9, 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! Would the two Princes lie? and Claudio lie? Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness. Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her; let her die. Fridr. Hear me a little; For I have only been silent so long, If this, sweet lady lie not guiltless here. 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 'seck'st thou then to cover with excuse Friar. Lady, what man Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know If I know more of any man alive,' Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy! my father, Prove you that any man with me convers'd At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintaind the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. Frlar. There is some strange misprision in the Princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour; 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 honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Nor fortune made such havock of my means, Friar. Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. That appertain unto her "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: But not for that, dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth. She |