LITMIR.BIZ

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      Dog. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. Here’s that shall drive some of them to a non-come; only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail.

       [Exeunt.]

       ¶

      ACT IV

      [Scene I]

       Enter Prince [Don Pedro, Don John the] Bastard, Leonato, Friar [Francis], Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice [with Attendants].

      Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief—only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.

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

      Claud. No.

      Leon. To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her.

      Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count.

      Hero. I do.

      Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoin’d, I charge you on your souls to utter it.

      Claud. Know you any, Hero?

      Hero. None, my lord.

      Friar. Know you any, Count?

      Leon. I dare make his answer, none.

      Claud. O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do!

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

       Claud.

      Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave,

      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 honor.

      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 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 proof,

      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 will 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.

       Hero.

      And seem’d I ever otherwise to you?

       Claud.

      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

      Than Venus, or those pamp’red animals

      That rage in savage sensuality.

       Hero.

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

       Leon.

      Sweet Prince, why speak not you?

       D. Pedro.

      What should I speak?

      I stand dishonor’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.

      “True”! O God!

       Claud.

      Leonato, stand 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 so, but what of this, my lord?

       Claud.

      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.

       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?

       Claud.

      Marry, that can Hero,

      Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue.

      What man was he talk’d with you yesternight

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