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Beat. It appears not in that confeffion; there's not one wife man among twenty that will praise himself.

Bene. An old, an old inftance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of good neighbours; if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you?

Bene. Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum: therefore it is most expedient for the wife, if don worm (his confcience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myfelf: fo much for praifing myfelf; who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy; and now tell me, how doth your coufin?

Beat. Very ill.

Bene. And how do you?
Beat. Very ill too.

Enter Urfula.

Bene. Serve god, love me, and mend: there will I leave you too, for here comes one in hafte.

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home; it is proved my lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd, the prince and Claudio mightily abus'd, and don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, fignior?

Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be bury'd in thy eyes; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt.


A church.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with tapers.
Claud.TS this the monument of Leonato?
Atten. It is, my lord.



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Done to death by flanderous tongues,
Was the Hero that here lies:

Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,

Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life that dy'd with fhame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.

Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praifing her when I am dumb.

Claud. Now, mufick, found, and fing your folemn hymn.


Pardon, goddess of the night,
Thofe that flew thy virgin knight;
For the which with fongs of wo,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, thou affift our moan,
Help us thou to figh and groan

Heavily, beavily.

Graves, o, yawn, and yield your dead!
Until death be uttered
Heavily, heavily!

Claud. Now unto thy bones good night! Yearly will I do this rite.

Pedro. Good morrow, masters, put your torches out;

The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about

Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray. Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare well.


Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go.


Claud. And Hymen now with luckier iffue speed's Than this, for which we render'd up this wo!

Leonato's house.


Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Urfula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.

Friar. D'

ID I not tell you she was innocent?

Leon. So are the prince and Claudio who accus'd her,
Upon the errour that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things fort fo well.
Bene. And fo am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
And, when I fend for you, come hither mask'd:
The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To vifit me; you know your office, brother,
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.
Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.
Friar. To do what, fignior?

[Exeunt Ladies.

Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good fignior,
Your neice regards me with an eye of favour.

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'tis most true.
Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.
Leon. The fight whereof, I think, you had from me,


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From Claudio, and the prince; but what's your will?
Bene. Your anfwer, fir, is enigmatical;
But, for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
I' th' ftate of honourable marriage;

In which, good friar, I fhall defire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar. And my help.



Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio, with Attendants.
Pedro. Good morrow to this fair affembly.

Leon. Good morrow, prince, good morrow, Claudio,
We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter ?

Claud. I'll hold my mind, were the an Ethiope.

Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar ready. [Ex. Ant. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the matter, That you have such a february face, So full of froft, of ftorm, and cloudiness?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the favage bull:
Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And so all Europe fhall rejoice at thee,
As once Europa did at lufty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, fir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow,
And got a calf in that fame noble feat,

Much like to you, for you have just his bleat..



Enter Antonio with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Urfula, mask’d. Claud. For this I owe you; here come other reck'nings. Which is the lady I must seize upon?


Leon. This fame is fhe, and I do give you her.
Claud. Why then she's mine; fweet, let me fee
Leon. No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand
Before this friar, and fwear to marry her.


Claud. Give me your hand; before this holy friar, I am your husband if you like of me.

Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife : And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer.

One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live;

And, furely as I live, I am a maid.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!


Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her flander liv'd.
Friar. All this amazement can I qualify.
When after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time, let wonder feem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that name; what is your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat. Why, no; no more than reason.

Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio, Have been deceiv'd; for they did fwear, you did.

Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason.

Beat. Why, then my coufin,. Margaret, and Urfula, Are much deceiv'd; for they did fwear, you did.

Bene. They fwore, you were almost fick for me.
Beat. They fwore, you were wellnigh dead for me.
Bene. 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me?
Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence.
Leon. Come, coufin, I am fure, you love the gentleman.
Claud. And I'll be fworn upon't that he loves her,


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