That may be wish’d for.
Beatrice
How now, cousin Hero!
Friar Francis
Have comfort, lady.
Leonato
Dost thou look up?
Friar Francis
Yea, wherefore should she not?
Leonato
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:
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame?
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates,
Who smirch’d thus and mired with infamy,
I might have said ‘No part of it is mine;
This shame derives itself from unknown loins’?
But mine and mine I loved and mine I praised
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her,— why, she, O, she is fallen
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again
And salt too little which may season give
To her foul-tainted flesh!
Benedick
Sir, sir, be patient.
For my part, I am so attired in wonder,
I know not what to say.
Beatrice
O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!
Benedick
Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beatrice
No, truly not; although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
Leonato
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 loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash’d it with tears? Hence from her! let her die.
Friar Francis
Hear me a little;
For I have only been silent so long
And given way unto this course of fortune.
...
By noting of the lady I have mark’d
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear’d a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenor of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.
Leonato
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 seek’st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?
Friar Francis
Lady, what man is he you are accused of?
Hero
They know that do accuse me; I know none:
If I know more of any man alive
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father,
Prove you that any man with me conversed
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain’d the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!
Friar Francis
There is some strange misprision in the princes.
Benedick
Two of them have the very bent of honour;
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
The practise of it lives in John the bastard,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.
Leonato
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.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
Friar Francis
Pause awhile,
And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead:
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it that she is dead indeed;
Maintain a mourning ostentation
And on your family’s old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.
Leonato
What shall become of this? what will this do?
Friar Francis
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 dying, as it must so be maintain’d,
Upon the instant that she was accused,
Shall be lamented, pitied and excused
Of every hearer: for it so falls out
That what we have we prize not to the worth
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack’d and lost,
Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell’d in more precious habit,
More moving-delicate and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn,
If ever love had interest in his liver,
And wish he had not so accused her,
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
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 supposition of the lady’s death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries.
Benedick
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 secretly and justly as your soul
Should with your body.
Leonato
Being that I flow in grief,
The smallest twine may lead me.
Friar Francis
’Tis well con
sented: presently away;
For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.
Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day
Perhaps is but prolong’d: have patience and endure.
Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice
Benedick
Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?
Beatrice
Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Benedick
I will not desire that.
Beatrice
You have no reason; I do it freely.
Benedick
Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.
Beatrice
Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!
Benedick
Is there any way to show such friendship?
Beatrice
A very even way, but no such friend.
Benedick
May a man do it?
Beatrice
It is a man’s office, but not yours.
Benedick
I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?
Beatrice
As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.
Benedick
By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.
Beatrice
Do not swear, and eat it.
Benedick
I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you.
Beatrice
Will you not eat your word?
Benedick
With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest
I love thee.
Beatrice
Why, then, God forgive me!
Benedick
What offence, sweet Beatrice?
Beatrice
You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved you.
Benedick
And do it with all thy heart.
Beatrice
I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.
Benedick
Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Beatrice
Kill Claudio.
Benedick
Ha! not for the wide world.
Beatrice
You kill me to deny it. Farewell.
Benedick
Tarry, sweet Beatrice.
Beatrice
I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go.
Benedick
Beatrice,—
Beatrice
In faith, I will go.
Benedick
We’ll be friends first.
Beatrice
You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.
Benedick
Is Claudio thine enemy?
Beatrice
Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, — O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.
Benedick
Hear me, Beatrice,—
Beatrice
Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!
Benedick
Nay, but, Beatrice,—
Beatrice
Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.
Benedick
Beat —
Beatrice
Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
Benedick
Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.
Beatrice
Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.
Benedick
Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?
Beatrice
Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.
Benedick
Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell.
Exeunt
SCENE II. A PRISON.
Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, with Conrade and Borachio
Dogberry
Is our whole dissembly appeared?
Verges
O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.
Sexton
Which be the malefactors?
Dogberry
Marry, that am I and my partner.
Verges
Nay, that’s certain; we have the exhibition to examine.
Sexton
But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master constable.
Dogberry
Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name, friend?
Borachio
Borachio.
Dogberry
Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?
Conrade
I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.
Dogberry
Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve God?
Conrade
Borachio
Yea, sir, we hope.
Dogberry
Write down, that they hope they serve God: and write God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves?
Conrade
Marry, sir, we say we are none.
Dogberry
A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you: but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a word in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.
Borachio
Sir, I say to you we are none.
Dogberry
Well, stand aside. ’Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down, that they are none?
Sexton
Master constable, you go not the way to examine: you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.
Dogberry
Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way. Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s name, accuse these men.
First Watchman
This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince’s brother, was a villain.
Dogberry
Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain.
Borachio
Master constable,—
Dogberry
Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look,
I promise thee.
Sexton
What heard you him say else?
Second Watchman
Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of
Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.
Dogberry
Flat burglary as ever was committed.
Verges
Yea, by mass, that it is.
Sexton
What else, fellow?
First Watchman
And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly. and not marry her.
Dogberry
O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.
Sexton
What else?
Watchman
This is all.
Sexton
And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died. Master constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato’s: I will go before and show him their examination.
Exit
Dogberry
Come, let them be opinioned.
Verges
Let them be in the hands —
Conrade
Off, coxcomb!
Dogberry
God’s my life, where’s the sexton? let him write down the prince’s officer coxcomb. Come, bind them. Thou naughty varlet!
Conrade
Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.
Dogberry
Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer, and, which is more, a householder, and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every thing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that I had been writ down an ass!
Exeunt
ACT V
SCENE I. BEFORE LEONATO’S HOUSE.
Enter Leonato and Antonio
Antonio
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself:
And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief
Against yourself.
Leonato
I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve: give not me counsel;
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Bring me a father that so loved his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine,
And bid him speak of patience;
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine
And let it answer every strain for strain,
As thus for thus and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form:
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘hem!’ when he should groan,
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.
But there is no such man: for, brother, men
Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
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