Trust not my reading, nor my observations, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Leon. Friar, it cannot be : Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, A sin of perjury; she not denies it; Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? none: Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Friar. There is some strange misprision 13 in the princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent 14 of honour; And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Leon. I know not; If they speak but truth of her, age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havock of my means, 13 Misconception. 14 Bent is here used for the utmost degree of, or tendency to honourable conduct. See p. 156, note 15. But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind, Friar. And let my counsel sway you Pause a while, in this case. Your daughter here the princes left for dead; And publish it, that she is dead indeed: Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do? Friar. Marry, this well carried, shall on her behalf That what we have we prize not to the worth, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 15 Show, appearance. 16 i. e. raise to the highest pitch. 17 Upon the occasion of his words she died: his words were the cause of her death. Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she liv'd indeed:-then shall he mourn, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: And though, you know, my inwardness 19 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 Leon. Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me 20. Friar. "Tis well consented; presently away; For to strange sores they strangely strain the cure. Come, lady, die to live: this wedding day, Perhaps, is but prolong'd; have patience, and endure. [Exeunt Friar, HERO, and LEONATO. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? 18 The liver was anciently supposed to be the seat of love. 19 Intimacy. 20 This is one of Shakspeare's subtle observations upon life. Men, overpowered with distress, eagerly listen to the first offers of relief, close with every scheme, and believe every promise. He that has no longer any confidence in himself is glad to repose his trust in any other that will undertake to guide him. Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wrong'd. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man do it? Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you; Is not that strange? Beat. 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. Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it. Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word? says, Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it: I protest, I love thee. Beat. Why then, God forgive me! Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I loved you. Bene. And do it with all thy heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to deny it: Farewell. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, though I am here 21:-There is no love in you:-Nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice, Beat. In faith, I will go. Bene. We'll be friends first. Beat. You dare easier be friends with fight with mine enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain 22, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O, that I were a man!-What! bear her in hand 23 until they come to take hands; and then with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market place. Bene. Hear me, Beatrice; Beat. Talk with a man out at a window?—a proper saying! Bene. Nay but, Beatrice; Beat. Sweet Hero!-she is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. Bene. Beat Beat. Princes, and counties 24! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-confect25; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies 26, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, 21 i. e. I am in reality absent, for my heart is gone from you, I remain in person before you.' 22 So, in K. Henry VIII.: He's a traitor to the height.' In præcipiti vitium stetit.-Juv. i. 149. 23 Delude her with false expectations. 24 Countie was the ancient term for a count or earl. 25 A specious nobleman made out of sugar. 26 Ceremonies. |