Printed for J.Bell, British Library, Strand, London; Nov 16784.

I

Printed for J.Bell,British Library, strand, London; Nov: 161784.

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been
If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewel,
"Thou pure impiety, and impious purity!"
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.

110

Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? Beat. Why, how now, cousin, wherefore sink you [HERO SWOONSs.

down?

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

light,

Smother her spirits up.

[Exeunt Don PEDRO, Don JOHN, and CLAUDIQ. 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,

That may be wish'd for.

Beat. How now, cousin Hero ?

Friar. Have comfort, lady.

Leon. Dost thou look up?

Friar. Yea; Wherefore should she not ?

120

Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly

thing

Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny

The