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 fhall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dry'd this blood of mine,
Nor age to eat up my invention,

Nor fortune made fuch havock of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me fo much of friends,
But they fhall find awak'd, in fuch a kind,
Both ftrength of limb, and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
Friar. Paufe a while,

And let my counsel fway you in this cafe.
Your daughter here the Princes' left for dead;
Let her awhile be fecretly kept in,

And publish it, that she is dead, indeed:
Maintain a mourning oftentation,
And on your family's old Monument
Hang mournful Epitaphs, and do all rites

That appertain unto a burial.

[do?

Leon. What shall become of this? what will this
Friar. Marry, this, well carry'd, fhall on her behalf
Change flander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that dream I on this strange course, ́.
But on this travel look for greater birth :
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accus'd
Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd,
Of every hearer for it fo falls out,

That what we have we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack`d and loft,
Why, then we rack the value; then we find
The virtue that poffeffion would not fhew us
Whilft it was ours; fo will it fare with Claudio :
When he shall hear fhe dy'd upon his words,
Th' idea of her Life fhall fweetly creep

Into his ftudy of imagination,

And every lovely organ of her life

H 4

Shall

Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit;
More moving, delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and profpect of his foul,

Than when fhe liv'd indeed. Then fhall he mourn,
If ever love had intereft in his liver,
And wish, he had not fo accufed her;
No, though he thought his accufation true:
Let this be fo, and doubt not, but fuccefs
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all Aim but this be levell'd false,
The fuppofition of the lady's death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy.
And, if it fort not well, you may conceal her,
As beft befits her wounded reputation,
In fome reclufive and religious life,

Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you: And though, you know, my inwardness and love Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this

As fecretly and juftly as your foul

Should with your body.

Leon. Being that I flow in grief,

The smallest twine may lead me.

Friar. 'Tis well confented, presently away; For to ftrange fores, ftrangely they ftrain the cure. Come, lady, die to live; this wedding day, Perhaps, is but prolong'd: have patience and [Exeunt.

Bene.

endure.

LADY

.

ADY Beatrice, have you wept all this while? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not defire that.

Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely.

Bene.

Bene. Surely, I do believe, your fair cousin is wrong'd.

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her!

Bene. Is there any way to fhew fuch friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no fuch friend. Bene. May a man do it?

Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours.

Bene. I do love nothing in the world fo well as you; is not that ftrange?

Beat. As ftrange as the thing I know not; it were as poffible for me to fay, I loved nothing fo well as you; but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confefs nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am forry for my coufin.

Bene. By my fword, Beatrice, thou lov`st me.
Beat. Do not fwear by it, and eat it.

Bene. I will fwear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word?

Bene. With no fauce that can be devis'd to it; I proteft, I love thee.

Beat. Why then, God forgive me.

Bene. What offence, fweet Beatrice?

Beat. You have ftay'd me in a happy hour; I was about to proteft, I lov'd you.

Bene. And do it with all thy heart.

Beat. I love you with fo much of my heart, that

none is left to proteft.

in

Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

Beat. Kill Claudio.

Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.

Beat. You kill me to deny; farewel.

Bene. Tarry, fweet Beatrice.

Beat. I am gone, tho' I am here; there is no love

you; nay, I pray you, Bene. Beatrice,

Beat. In faith, I will go.

H 5

let me go.

Bene.

Bene. We'll be friends first.

Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy.

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?

Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath flander'd, fcorn'd, difhonour'd my kinf woman! O, that I were a man! what! bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then with public accufation, uncover'd flander, unmitigated rancour- O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market place.

Bene. Hear me, Beatrice.

Beat. Talk with a man out at a window? per faying!

Bene. Nay, but Beatrice.

a pro

Beat. Sweet Hero! fhe is wrong'd, she is flander'd, fhe is undone.

Bene. Beat.

Beat. Princes and Counts! furely, a princely teftimony, a goodly count-comfect, a fweet gallant, furely! O that I were a man for his fake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my fake! but manhood is melted into curtefies, valour into compliment, and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too; he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and fwears it: I cannot be a man with wifhing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice; by this hand, I love

thee.

Beat. Ufe it for my love some other way than fwearing by it.

Bene. Think you in your foul, the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero?

Beat. Yea, as fure as I have a thought or a foul. Bene. Enough, I am engag'd; I will challenge him, I will kifs your hand, and fo leave you; by this hand, Claudio fhall render me a dear account;

as

as you hear of me, so think of me; go comfort your coufin; I muft fay, fhe is dead, and fo farewel.

[Exeunt.

Enter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the Town-Clerk and Sexton in Gowns.

To. Cl.TS our whole diffembly appear'd?

[ton!

our a culion for the lex

a 9

Sexton. Which be the malefactors?
Verg. Marry, that am I and my Partner.

Dogb. Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine.

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examin'd? let them come before mafter conftable. To. Cl. Yea, marry, let them come before me; what is your name, friend?

Bora. Borachio.

To. Cl. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, Sirrah? Conr. I am a gentleman, Sir, and my name is Conrade.

To. Cl. Write down, mafter gentleman Conrate; mafters, do you ferve God?

Both. Yea, Sir, we hope.

To. Cl. Write down, that they hope they ferve God and write God firft: for God defend, but God should go before fuch villains. Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than falfe knaves, and it will go near to be thought fo fhortly; how answer you for yourselves?

Conr. Marry, Sirs, we fay, we are none.

To. Cl. A marvellous witty fellow, I affure you,

but I will go about with him.

Come you hither, firrah, a word. in your ear, Sir; I fay to you, it is thought you are both falfe knaves. H 6

Bene.