Act IV, Scene 1

A church.

[Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, FRIAR FRANCIS,] [p]CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and Attendants]

• Leonato. Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain
  form of marriage, and you shall recount their 1645
  particular duties afterwards.

• Friar Francis. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.

• 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. 1650

• Hero. I do.

• Friar Francis. If either of you know any inward impediment why you
  should not be conjoined, charge you, on your souls,
  to utter it.

• Claudio. Know you any, Hero? 1655

• Hero. None, my lord.

• Friar Francis. Know you any, count?

• 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! 1660

• Benedick. How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of
  laughing, as, ah, ha, he!

• Claudio. Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave:
  Will you with free and unconstrained soul
  Give me this maid, your daughter? 1665

• Leonato. As freely, son, as God did give her me.

• Claudio. And what have I to give you back, whose worth
  May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?

• Don Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.

• Claudio. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. 1670
  There, Leonato, take her back again:
  Give not this rotten orange to your friend;
  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 1675
  Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
  Comes not that blood as modest evidence
  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: 1680
  She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
  Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.

• Leonato. What do you mean, my lord?

• Claudio. Not to be married,
  Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. 1685

• Leonato. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,
  Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth,
  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, 1690
  And so extenuate the 'forehand sin:
  No, Leonato,
  I never tempted her with word too large;
  But, as a brother to his sister, show'd
  Bashful sincerity and comely love. 1695

• Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you?

• Claudio. Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it:
  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 1700
  Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals
  That rage in savage sensuality.

• Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide?

• Leonato. Sweet prince, why speak not you?

• Don Pedro. What should I speak? 1705
  I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about
  To link my dear friend to a common stale.

• 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. 1710

• Hero. True! O God!

• Claudio. Leonato, stand I here?
  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? 1715

• Claudio. Let me but move one question to your daughter;
  And, by that fatherly and kindly power
  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! 1720
  What kind of catechising call you this?

• Claudio. To make you answer truly to your name.

• Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
  With any just reproach?

• Claudio. Marry, that can Hero; 1725
  Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.
  What man was he talk'd with you yesternight
  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. 1730

• Don Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato,
  I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour,
  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 1735
  Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,
  Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
  A thousand times in secret.

• Don John. Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord,
  Not to be spoke of; 1740
  There is not chastity enough in language
  Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,
  I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

• Claudio. O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been,
  If half thy outward graces had been placed 1745
  About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
  But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,
  Thou pure impiety and impious purity!
  For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
  And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, 1750
  To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
  And never shall it more be gracious.

• Leonato. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?

[HERO swoons]

• Beatrice. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down? 1755

• 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?

• Beatrice. Dead, I think. Help, uncle! 1760
  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.

• Beatrice. How now, cousin Hero! 1765

• 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 1770
  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, 1775
  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 1780
  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 1785
  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 1790
  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. 1795

• 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 1800
  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 1805
  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 1810
  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, 1815
  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. 1820

• 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 1825
  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, 1830
  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! 1835

• 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. 1840

• 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, 1845
  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, 1850
  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, 1855
  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. 1860

• 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. 1865
  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 1870
  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, 1875
  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, 1880
  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. 1885
  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 1890
  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. 1895

• 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 1900
  Should with your body.

• Leonato. Being that I flow in grief,
  The smallest twine may lead me.

• Friar Francis. 'Tis well consented: presently away;
  For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. 1905
  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. 1910

• 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? 1915

• 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? 1920

• 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. 1925

• 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 1930
  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. 1935

• 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. 1940

• 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. 1945

• 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? 1950

• 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, 1955
  —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,— 1960

• 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 1965
  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 1970
  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. 1975

• 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. 1980

[Exeunt]