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live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you?

Bene. Question ?-why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum; therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself; so much for praising myself; who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy; and now tell me, how doth your Cousin?

Beat. Very ill.
Bene. And how do you ?
Beat. Very ill too.

Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend; there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter Ursula. Ursu. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd; the Prince and Claudio mightily abus'd ; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently ?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior ?

Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy heart; and moreover I will go

with thee to thy uncle.


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Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers
Claud. S this the monument of Leonato?
Attend. It is, my


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Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η.
Done to death by sanderous tongues

Was the Hero, that here lies:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,

Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life, that dy'd with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.

Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb.

Claud. Now music sound, and sing your folemin hynin.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Those that sew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, alif our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan

Heavily, heavily:
Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
'Till death be uttered,

Heavily, heavily.

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Claud. Now unto thy bones good night! Yearly will I do this Right. Pedro. Good morrow, masters, put your torches out; The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle

day, Before the wheels of Phæbus, round about

Dapples the drousy east with spots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud, Good morrow, masters; each his several

way. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's, Than this, for whom we render'd up

this woe!


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Changes to Leonato's House. Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Ursula, Antonio,

Friar, and Hero.

she Friar. D Deon. Stotale The Prince and Claudio, who

accus'd her,
Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears,
In the true course of all the question.

Ant. Well; I am glad, that all things fort so well.

Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, Daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves. And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour


your office, brother, You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio.

Exeunt Ladies, Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, Signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior, Your neice regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most

true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.

Leon. The fight whereof, I think, you had from me, From Claudio and the Prince; but what's

ut what's your will ? I 3


To visit me; you

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Bene. Your answer, Sir, is enigmatical;
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
I'th' state of honourable marriage ;
In which, good Friar, I shall desire your help.,

Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar. And my help.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants.
Pedro. YOOD morrow to this fair assemblý:

Leon. Good morrow, Prince; good morn

row, Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To day to marry with my

brother's daughter ? Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar reacy.

Exit Antonio. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the

That you have fuch a February-face,
So full of froft, of storm and cloudiness ?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull:
Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lufty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love. ,

Bene, Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow;
And got a calf, in that same noble feat,
Much like to you; for you have just his bleat.

Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and

Ursula, mask'd.

here FOR

other recknings. Which is the lady I must seize upon ?


this I
owe you;



Ant. This fame is she, and I do give you her.
Claud. Why, then she's mine; Sweet, let me fee

your face.

I am your

you were

Leon. No, that

shall not, ’till


take her hand Before this Friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand; before this holy Friar, husband if


like of me. Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife.

[Unmasking. And when



other husband. Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer.
One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do livez.
And, surely, as I live, I am a maid.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead!
Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander

Friar. All this amazement can I qualify.
When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death: -
Mean time let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently,

Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that

what is


will ? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. Why, no, no more than reason.

Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did.

Beat. Do not you love me?
Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason.

Beat. Why, then my Cousin, Margaret and Ursula, Have been deceiv’d; for they did swear, you did.

Bene. They swore, you were almost fick for me.
Beat. They swore, you were well-nigh dead for me.
Bene, 'Tis no matter;


do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence.



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