EPITA P H.

Done to death by flanderous tongues
Was the Hero, that here lies:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,

Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life, that dy'd with fhame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praifing her when I am dumb.

Claud. Now mufick found, and fing your folemn

hymn.

SONG.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Thofe that flew thy virgin knight 7
For the which, with fangs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.

Midnight, affift our moan ;.
Help us to figh and groan

Heavily, beavily;

Graves, yawn and yield your dead,

'Till death be utter'd,

Heavily, beavily.

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

Pedro. Good morrow, masters, put your torches out; The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle

day,

Before the wheels of Phabus, round about
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey:

7 Thofe that flew thy virgin Knight.] Knight, in its original fignification, means Follower or Pupil, and in this fenfe may

be feminine. Helena, in All's well, that ends well, ufes knight in the fame fignification.

Thanks

Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, mafters; each his several

way.

Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud. And Hymen now with luckier iffue fpeed's, Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt.

Changes to Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Urfula, Antonio, Friar, and Hero.

Friar.

ID I not tell you, fhe was innocent ?

DID

Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who
accus'd her,

Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in fome fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears,
In the true courfe of all the queftion.

Ant. Well, I am glad, that all things fort fo well.
Bene. And fo am I, being elfe by faith enforc'd
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 fend for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour To vifit me; you know your office, brother,

8 And Hymen now with luckier Iffue fpeeds, Than this, for whom we render'd up this Woe.] Claudio could not know, without being a Prophet, that this new-propos'd Match fhould have any

luckier Event than That defign'd with Hero, Certainly, therefore, this fhould be a Wish in Claudio ; and, to this end, the Poet might have wrote, Speed's; li. e. Speed us and fo it becomes a Prayer to Hymen. THIRLBY. You

You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio,

[Exeunt Ladies. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must intreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, Signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most

true.

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The fight whereof, I think, you had from me. From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will? Bene. Your anfwer, Sir, is enigmatical;

But for my will, my will is, your good will
May ftand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
I' th' ftate of honourable marriage;

In which, good Friar, I fhall defire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar. And my help.

SCENE X.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants.

Pedro. Good morrow to this fair affembly: Leon. Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio, We here attend you; are you yet determin'd To day to marry with my brother's daughter? Claud. I'll hold my mind, were fhe an Ethiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar

ready.

[Exit Antonio. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick; why, what's the

matter,

That you have fuch a February face,

So full of froft, of storm and cloudiness?

Claud. I think, he thinks upon the favage bull: Tufh, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,

And

And so all Europe shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lufty Jove,

When he would play the noble beaft in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low, And fome fuch strange bull leapt your father's cow; And got a calf, in that fame noble feat,

Much like to you; for you have juft his bleat.

Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Urfula, mask'd.

Claud. For this I owe you; here come other reck'nings.

Which is the lady I must seize upon ?

Ant. This fame is fhe, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then fhe's mine; Sweet, let me fee your face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, 'till you take her hand

Before this Friar, and fwear 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 liv'd, I was your other wife. [Unmasking. And when you lov'd, you were my other husband.

Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer.

One Hero dy'd defil'd, but I do live;

And, furely, as I live, I am a maid.

Pedro. The former Hero! Hero, that is dead! Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her flander liv'd.

Friar. All this amazement can I qualify.

When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell thee largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time let wonder feem familiar,
And to the chapel let us prefently.

Bene.

Bene. Soft and fair, Friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I anfwer to that name; what is your will?
Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat. Why, no, no more than reafon.

Bene. Why, then your Uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio, have been deceiv'd; they swore, you did. Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason.

Beat. Why, then my Coufin, Margaret and Urfula, Have been deceiv'd; for they did fwear, you did. Bene. They fwore, you were almoft fick for me. Beat. They fwore, you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. 'Tis no matter; then you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence. Leon. Come, Coufin, I am fure, you love the gentleman.

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

A halting fonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero. And here's another,

Writ in my Coufin's hand, ftolen 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

9 I would not dery you, &c.] Mr. Theobald fays, is not this mock-reaf.ning? She would not. deny him, but that he yields upon great perfuafion. In changing the Negative I make no doubt but I have retriev'd the poet's humour: and fo changes not into yet. But is not this a Mock Critic? who could not fee that the plain obvious fenfe of the common reading was this, I cannot find in my heart to deny you, but for all

that I yield, after having flood out great perfuafions to fubmiffion. He had faid, I take thee for pity, the replies, I would not deny thee. i. e. I take thee for pity too: but as I live I am won to this compliance by importunity of friends. Mr. Theobali by altering not to yet makes it fuppofed, that he had been importunate, and that he had often denied; which was not the cafe.

WARBURTON. day,