Will you
with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid, your daughter?

Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth

May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?

D. 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 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,
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 2 bed:
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Claud.

Not to be married,

Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.
Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof3
Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginity,-

Claud. I know what you would say; If I have
known her,

You'll

say, she did embrace me as a husband, 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.

2 Lascivious. 3 i. e. ' if in your own trial.'
VOL. II.

R

4 Licentious.

Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? Claud. Out on thy 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
Than Venus or those pamper'd animals
That rage in savage sensuality.

blood

Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide5?
Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?
D. Pedro.

What should I speak?

I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about

To link my dear friend to a common stale.

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

are true.

Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.

Hero.

Claud. Leonato, stand I here?

True, O God!

Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother?
Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own?

Leon. All this is so; But what of this, my lord? Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter;

And, by that fatherly and kindly power6

That

you have in her, bid her answer truly. Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. Hero. O God, defend me! how am I beset!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?

5 i. e. So remotely from the present business.'

wide of the matter,' is a familiar phrase still in use.

'You are

6 i. e. 'natural power.' Kind is used for nature. So in The Induction to The Taming of the Shrew

This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs.'

which here also signifies naturally.

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. D. 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;
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.

D. John.

Fye, fye! 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 sorry for thy much misgovernment.

Claud. 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, 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 8.

Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [HERO Swoons.

7 Liberal here, as in many places of these plays, means licentious beyond honesty or decency. This sense of the word is not peculiar to Shakspeare.

8 i. e. graced, favoured, countenanced. See vol. i. p. 148, note 22, and As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 2.

Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink you down?

D. John. Come, let us go: these things, come thus to light,

Smother her spirits up.

[Exeunt DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, and

CLAUDIO.

Bene. How doth the lady?

Beat.

Dead, I think;—help, uncle;

Hero! why, Hero!-Uncle!-Signior Benedick!

friar?

Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand! Death is the fairest cover for her shame,

Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly

thing

Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood9?—
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. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame 10?
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 smirched11 thus, and mired with infamy,

9 That is, which her blushes discovered to be true.' 10 Frame is order, contrivance, disposition of things. 11 See note 8, p. 172, ante.

I might have said, No part of it is mine,
This shame derives itself from unknown loins?
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
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 12;
And salt too little, which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!

Bene.
Sir, sir, be patient:
For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to say.

Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!
Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beat. No, truly, not: although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
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 so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her; let her die.
Friar. 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 start
Into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness 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;

12 The same thought is repeated in Macbeth:

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand.'