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

Claud. Stand thee by, friar :-Father, by your leave; Will you with free and unconftrained foul

Give me this maid your daughter?

Leon. As freely, fon, 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.

Claud. 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 she blushes here!
O, what authority and fhew of truth
Can cunning fin cover itfelf withal!
Comes not that blood, as modest evidence,
To witness fimple virtue? Would you not fwear,
All you that fee her, that she were a maid,
By these exterior fhews? 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?

Claud. Not to be marry'd, not knit my foul 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,

1 luxurious]-lafcivious.

"To't luxury, pell-mell, for I lack foldiers."

KING LEAR, A& IV, S. 6. Lear.

You'll fay, fhe did embrace me as a husband,
And fo extenuate the forehand fin:

No, Leonato,

I never tempted her with word too " large;
But, as a brother to his fifter, fhew'd

Bafhful fincerity and comely love.

Hero. And feem'd I ever otherwise to you?

Claud. Out on thy feeming! I will write against it: You seem to me as Dian in her orb;

As chafte 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 favage fenfuality.

Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak fo wide?
Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?

Pedro. What fhould I speak?

I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about

To link my dear friend to a common ftale.

Leon. Are these things fpoken, or do I but dream? John. Sir, they are spoken, 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 daugh

ter;

And, by that fatherly and kindly power

That you have in her, bid her answer truly.

n

Leon. I charge thee do fo, as thou art my child.

large;]-licentious.

I will write against it :]-Satirize it, paint it in its true deformity. P kindly]-natural.

Hero.

Hero. O God defend me! how I am befet!What kind of catechizing call you this?

Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name With any just reproach?

Claud. Marry, that can Hero;

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,
Pedro. Why then you are no maiden.-Leonato,
I am forry, you must hear; Upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count,
Did fee her, hear her, at that hour last night,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window;
Who hath, indeed, most 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 spoke 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, most foul, most fair! farewel,
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity!
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eye-lids fhall conjecture hang,

liberal]-of his tongue, free-fpoken.

That liberal fhepherds give a groffer name."
HAMLET, Act IV, S. 7. Queen,

conjecture]-fufpicion.

Το

To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,

And never fhall it more be gracious.

Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? Beat. Why, how now, coufin, wherefore fink you down? [Hero fwoons. John. Come, let us go: these things, come thus to light, Smother her fpirits up.

[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio.

Bene. How doth the lady?

Beat. Dead, I think ;-Help, uncle ;—

Hero! why, Hero!-uncle !-fignior Benedick!-friar !

Leon. O fate! take not away thy heavy hand!

Death is the fairest cover for her fhame,

That may be wish'd for.

Beat. How now, coufin Hero?

Friar. Have comfort, lady.

Leon. Doft thou look up?

Friar. Yea; Wherefore fhould fhe not?

Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing

Cry fhame upon her? Could fhe here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?—

Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:
For did I think, thou would't not quickly die,
Thought I, thy fpirits were stronger than thy fhames,
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Griev'd 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 waft thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not, with charitable hand,
Took up a beggar's iffue at my gates;

Who fmeared thus, and mir'd with infamy,

t

printed in her blood?]-declared by her blushes to be true.
frugal nature's frame?]-frugality in framing; order, disposal.
VOL. I.

K k

I might

I might have faid, No part of it is mine,
This fhame derives itfelf 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 myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her; why, fhe-O, fhe, is fallen
Into a pit of ink! that the wide fea

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again;
And falt too little, which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!

Bene. Sir, fir, be patient:

For my part, I am fo "attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to say.

Beat. O, on my foul, my coufin is bely'd!

Bene. Lady, were you her bed-fellow last night? Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bed-fellow.

Leon. 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 lov'd her fo, that, fpeaking of her foulness, Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her; let her die. Friar. Hear me a little;

For I have only been filent fo long,

And given way unto this courfe of fortune,

By noting of the lady: I have mark'd

A thousand blufhing apparitions

To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whitenefs bear 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;
Truft not my reading, nor my obfervation,

"attir'd]-encompaffed, immersed.