ACT IV
SCENE I | A church. |
| Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, FRIAR FRANCIS,
CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and Attendants |
LEONATO | Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain |
| form of marriage, and you shall recount their |
| particular duties afterwards. |
FRIAR FRANCIS | You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady. | 5 |
CLAUDIO | No. |
LEONATO | To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her. |
FRIAR FRANCIS | Lady, you come hither to be married to this count. |
HERO | I do. |
FRIAR FRANCIS | If either of you know any inward impediment why you | 10 |
| should not be conjoined, charge you, on your souls, |
| to utter it. |
CLAUDIO | Know you any, Hero? |
HERO | None, my lord. |
FRIAR FRANCIS | Know you any, count? | 15 |
LEONATO | I dare make his answer, none. |
CLAUDIO | O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily |
| do, not knowing what they do! |
BENEDICK | How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of |
| laughing, as, ah, ha, he! | 20 |
CLAUDIO | Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave: |
| Will you with free and unconstrained soul |
| Give me this maid, your daughter? |
LEONATO | As freely, son, as God did give her me. |
CLAUDIO | And what have I to give you back, whose worth | 25 |
| May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? |
DON PEDRO | Nothing, unless you render her again. |
CLAUDIO | Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. |
| There, Leonato, take her back again: |
| Give not this rotten orange to your friend; | 30 |
| She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. |
| Behold how like a maid she blushes here! |
| O, what authority and show of truth |
| Can cunning sin cover itself withal! |
| Comes not that blood as modest evidence | 35 |
| To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, |
| All you that see her, that she were a maid, |
| By these exterior shows? But she is none: |
| She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; |
| Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. | 40 |
LEONATO | What do you mean, my lord? |
CLAUDIO | Not to be married, |
| Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. |
LEONATO | Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, |
| Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, | 45 |
| And made defeat of her virginity,-- |
CLAUDIO | I know what you would say: if I have known her, |
| You will say she did embrace me as a husband, |
| And so extenuate the 'forehand sin: |
| No, Leonato, | 50 |
| I never tempted her with word too large; |
| But, as a brother to his sister, show'd |
| Bashful sincerity and comely love. |
HERO | And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? |
CLAUDIO | Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it: | 55 |
| You seem to me as Dian in her orb, |
| As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; |
| But you are more intemperate in your blood |
| Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals |
| That rage in savage sensuality. | 60 |
HERO | Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? |
LEONATO | Sweet prince, why speak not you? |
DON PEDRO | What should I speak? |
| I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about |
| To link my dear friend to a common stale. | 65 |
LEONATO | Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? |
DON JOHN | Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. |
BENEDICK | This looks not like a nuptial. |
HERO | True! O God! |
CLAUDIO | Leonato, stand I here? | 70 |
| Is this the prince? is this the prince's brother? |
| Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? |
LEONATO | All this is so: but what of this, my lord? |
CLAUDIO | Let me but move one question to your daughter; |
| And, by that fatherly and kindly power | 75 |
| That you have in her, bid her answer truly. |
LEONATO | I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. |
HERO | O, God defend me! how am I beset! |
| What kind of catechising call you this? |
CLAUDIO | To make you answer truly to your name. | 80 |
HERO | Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name |
| With any just reproach? |
CLAUDIO | Marry, that can Hero; |
| Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. |
| What man was he talk'd with you yesternight | 85 |
| 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. |
DON PEDRO | Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, |
| I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, | 90 |
| Myself, my brother and this grieved count |
| Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night |
| Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window |
| Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, |
| Confess'd the vile encounters they have had | 95 |
| A thousand times in secret. |
DON JOHN | Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord, |
| Not to be spoke of; |
| There is not chastity enough in language |
| Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, | 100 |
| I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. |
CLAUDIO | 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, | 105 |
| Thou pure impiety and impious purity! |
| For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, |
| And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, |
| To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, |
| And never shall it more be gracious. | 110 |
LEONATO | Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? |
| HERO swoons |
BEATRICE | Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down? |
DON JOHN | Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, |
| Smother her spirits up. |
| Exeunt DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, and CLAUDIO |
BENEDICK | How doth the lady? | 115 |
BEATRICE | Dead, I think. Help, uncle! |
| Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! |
LEONATO | O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand. |
| Death is the fairest cover for her shame |
| That may be wish'd for. | 120 |
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 | 125 |
| 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, | 130 |
| 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? | 135 |
| 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'? | 140 |
| 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 | 145 |
| 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, | 150 |
| 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. | 155 |
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. | 160 |
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 | 165 |
| 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; | 170 |
| 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 | 175 |
| 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: | 180 |
| 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 | 185 |
| 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, | 190 |
| 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, | 195 |
| 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, | 200 |
| 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, | 205 |
| 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: | 210 |
| 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 | 215 |
| 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, | 220 |
| 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 | 225 |
| 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: | 230 |
| 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, | 235 |
| 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, | 240 |
| 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, | 245 |
| 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, | 250 |
| 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 | 255 |
| 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 consented: presently away; | 260 |
| 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. | 265 |
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? | 270 |
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? | 275 |
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. | 280 |
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 | 285 |
| 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. | 290 |
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. | 295 |
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. | 300 |
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? | 305 |
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, | 310 |
| --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,-- | 315 |
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 | 320 |
| 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 | 325 |
| 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. | 330 |
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. | 335 |
| Exeunt |