Enter URSULA.

Urs. Madam, you must come come to your uncle; yonder's old coil at home. It is proved my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; and don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently? Beat. Will you go hear this news, seignior? Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. The Inside of a Church.

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and Attendants, with music and tapers.

Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato ?

Atten. It is, my lord.

Claud. [Reads from a scroll.]

Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies;
Death, in guerdon3 of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies;
So the life, that died with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.

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

[Affixing it.

Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.

1 Old coil is great or abundant bustle. Old was a common augmentative in ancient familiar language.

2 This phrase occurs frequently in writers of Shakspeare's time; it appears to be derived from the French phrase faire mourir.

3 Reward.

SONG.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight :
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily.

Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
Till death be uttered,

Heavenly, heavenly.1

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

D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters. Put your torches

out;

The wolves have preyed; 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 you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way. D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;

And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier issue speeds, Than this, for whom we rendered up this woe!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Room in Leonato's House.

Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE, UR-
SULA, Friar, and HERO.

Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who ac-

cused her

1 In some of the modern editions, this is altered to heavily, heavily.

Upon the error 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 sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforced 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 send for you, come hither masked. The prince and Claudio promised by this hour To visit 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 confirmed countenance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, seignior?

[Exeunt Ladies.

Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.Seignior Leonato, truth it is, good seignior,

Your niece regards me with an eye of favor.

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her. 'Tis most

true.

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from me, From Claudio, and the prince. But what's your will? Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:

But, for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined
In the estate of honorable marriage ;-

In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar.

Here comes the prince, and Claudio.

And my help

Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO, with Attendants.

D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio. We here attend you; are you yet determined To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?

Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar ready. [Exit ANTONIO. D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter,

That you have such a February face,

So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull.1 Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, And all Europa shall rejoice at thee;

As once Europa did at lusty Jove,

When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;

And some such strange bull leaped your father's cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat,

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

Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked.

Claud. For this I owe you; here comes other reckoning.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear 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 lived, I was your other wife:

[Unmasking. And when you loved, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero!

Hero.

Nothing certainer.

One Hero died defiled; but I do live,

And surely as I live, I am a maid.

D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!

1 Still alluding to the passage quoted from Hieronymo, or the Spanish Tragedy, in the first scene of the play.

Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander

lived.

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 seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar.-Which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that name; [Unmasking.] 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 deceived; for they swore you did.

Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason. Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, Are much deceived; for they did swear you did.

Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me. Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead

for me.

Bene. 'Tis no such matter.-Then you do not love me?

Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.

Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.

Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper, written in his hand,

A halting sonnet, of his own pure brain,

Fashioned to Beatrice.

Hero.

And here's another,

Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene. A miracle! Here's our own hands against our hearts!-Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.