Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I hear as good Exclamation on your Worship as of any Man in the City, and tho' I be but a poor Man, I am glad to hear it.

Verg. And fo am I.

Leon. I would fain know what you have to fay.

Verg. Marry, Sir, our Watch to Night, excepting your Worship's Prefence, have tane a couple of as arrant Knaves, as any in Messina.

Dogb. A good old Man, Sir, he will be talking as they fay, when the Age is in, the Wit is out, God help us, it is a World to fee: Well faid i'faith, Neighbour Verges, well, God's a good Man, and two Men rides an Horfe, one must ride behind, an honeft Soul i'faith Sir, by my Troth he is, as ever broke Bread, but God is to be worshipt, all Men are not alike, alas good Neighbour.

Leon. Indeed Neighbour he comes too short of you.
Dogb. Gifts that God gives.

Leon. I must leave you.

Dogb. One word, Sir, our Watch have indeed comprehended two afpicious Perfons, and we would have them this Morning examin'd before your Worship.

Leon. Take their Examination your felf, and bring it me, I am now in great hafte, as may appear unto you.

Dogb. It fhall be fuffigance.

Leon. Drink fome Wine e'er you go: Fare you well.
Enter a Messenger.

Meff. My Lord, they ftay for you to give your Daughter to her Husband.

Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready.

[Ex. Leonato. Dagb. Go good Partner, go get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his Pen and Inkhorn to the Goal; we are now to examine thofe Men.

Verg. And we must do it wifely.

Dogb. We will fpare for no Wit I warrant you; here's that fhall drive fome of them to a non-come, only get the learn'd Writer to fet down our Excommunication, and meet me at the Goal. [Exeunt.

АСТ

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedick,

Leon.

Hero and Beatrice.

OME Frier Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of Marriage, and you shall recount their particular Duties afterwards.

Frier. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady. Claud. No.

Leon. To be marry'd to her, Frier, you come to marry her.

Frier. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to the Count.

Hero. I do.

Frier. If either of you know any inward Impediment why you should not be conjoin'd, 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!

Bene. How now! Interjections? why then, fome be of laughing, as ha, ha, he.

Claud. Stand thee by, Frier: Father by your Leave, Will you with free and unconstrained Soul

Give me this Maid your Daughter?

Leon. As freely, Son, as God did give her me.

Claud. And what have I to give you back, whofe worth May counterpoife this rich and precious Gift?

Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again,

Cland. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble Thankfulness : There Leonato, take her back again.

Give not this rotten Orange to your Friend,

She's but the fign and femblance of her Honour:

Behold how like a Maid fhe blushes here!

O what authority and fhew of Truth
Can cunning Sin cover it self withal!

Comes

Comes not that Blood, as modeft Evidence,
To witness fimple Virtue? would you not swear,
All you that fee her, that she were a Maid,
By these exterior Shews? But fhe is none;
She knows the Heat of a luxurious Bed;
Her Blush is Guiltinefs, not Modefty.
Leon. What do you mean, my Lord?
Cland. Not to be marry'd,

Not knit my Soul to an approved Wanton.
Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own Proof
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 will fay, fhe did embrace me as a Husband,

And fo extenuate the forehand Sin. No, Leonato,

I never tempted her with Word too large,

But as a Brother to his Sifter, fhew'd

Bashful Sincerity, and comely Love,

Hero. And feem'd I ever otherwise to you?
Claud. Out on thee feeming, I will write against it,
You seem to me as Dian in her Orb,

As chafte as is the Bud e'er it be blown:

But you are more intemperate in your
Than Venus, or those pamper'd Animals
That rage in favage Senfuality.

Blood

Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth fpeak fo wide?
Leon. Sweet Prince, why fpeak not you?
Pedro. What should I speak?

I ftand difhonour'd, that have gone about

To link my dear Friend to a common Stale.

Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
John. Sir, they are fpoken, and these things are true.
Bene. This looks not like a Nuptial.

Hero. True! O God!

Claud. Leonato, ftand 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 fo; but what of this, my 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 anfwer truly.

Leon.

Leon. I charge thee do fo, as thou art my Child. Hero. O God defend me, how am I befet! What kind of catechizing call you this?

Leon. To make you anfwer truly to your Name. Here. Is it not Hero? who can blot that Name With any juft Reproach?

Claud. Marry that can Hero,

Hero her felf can blot out Hero's Virtue.
What Man was he talkt with you yefternight,
Out at your Window betwixt twelve and one?
Now if you are a Maid, answer to this.

Hero. I talk'd with no Man at that Hour, my Lord.
Pedro. Why then you are no Maiden. Leonato,
I am forry you must hear; upon mine Honour,
My felf, my Brother, and this grieved Count
Did fee her, hear her, at that Hour laft Night,
Talk with a Ruffian at her Chamber window,
Who hath indeed, moft like a liberal Villain,
Confefs'd the vile Encounters they have had
A thousand times in fecret.

John. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord,
Not to be spoken of,

There is not Chastity enough in Language,

Without Offence, to utter them: Thus, pretty Lady
I am forry for thy much Mifgovernment.

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadft thou been,
If half thy outward Graces had been plac'd
About the Thoughts and Counfels of thy Heart?
But fare thee well, moft foul, moft fair, farewel
Thou pure Impiety, and impious Purity;
For thee I'll lock up all the Gates of Love,
And on my Eyelids fhall Conjecture hang,
To turn all Beauty into Thoughts of Harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.

Leon. Hath no Man's Dagger here a Point for me?
Beat. Why how now Coufin, wherefore fink you down?
John. Come, let us go; these things come thus to light
Smother her Spirits 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! Frier!

Leon,

Leon. O Fate! take not away thy heavy Hand, Death is the faireft Cover for her Shame

That may be wish'd for.

Beat. How now, Coufin Hero?

Frier. Have Comfort, Lady.

Leon. Doft thou look up?

Frier. Yea, wherefore fhould fhe not?

Leon. Wherefore? Why doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could the here deny
The Story that is printed in her Blood?
Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes:
For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy Spirits were ftronger than thy Shames,
My felf would on the Rereward of Reproaches
Strike at thy Life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal Nature's frame?
I've one too much by thee. Why had I one?
Why ever waft thou lovely in my Eyes?
Why had not I, with charitable Hand,
Took up a Beggar's Iffue at my Gates;
Who fmeered thus, and mir'd with Infamy,
I might have faid, no part of it is mine,

This Shame derives it felf from unknown Loins?
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on, mine fo much
That I my felf was to my felf not mine,
Valuing of her; why fhe, O fhe is fall'n
Into a Pit of Ink, that the wide Sea
Hath Drops too few to wash her clean again,
And Salt too little, which may Seafon give
To her foul tainted Flesh.

Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient; for my part, I am so attired in Wonder, I know not what to say.

Beat. O on my Soul my Coufin is bely'd.

Bene. Lady, were you her Bedfellow laft Night?
Beat. No truly, not; altho' until laft 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 Prince lie? and Claudio would he lie, Who lov'd her fo, that speaking of her Foulness,

3

Wash'd