they say, When the age is in, the wit is out: God help us! it is a world to see!-Well said, i'faith, neighbour Verges-well, God's a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind: An honest soul, i'faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but, God is to he worshipped: All men are not alike; alas good neighbour ! Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts, that God gives.

Leon. I must leave you.

Dogb. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have, indeed, comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.

Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me;
I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.
Dogb. It shall be suffigance.

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well.
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband.

Leon. I will wait upon them; I am ready.

[Exe. LEON. and Messenger. Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol; we are now to examination these men.

Verg. And we must do it wisely.

Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here's that [touching his forehead] shall drive some of them to a non com: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-The Inside of a Church. Enter Don PEDRO, Don JOHN, LEONATO, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and BEATRICE, &c.

Leonato.

COME, friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.

[5] This is not out of place or without meaning. Dogberry, in his vanity of superior parts, apologizing for his neighbour, observes, that of two men on a horse, one must ride behind. The first place of rank or understanding can belong but to one, and that happy one ought not to despise his inferior. JOHNSON.

Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?
Claud. No.

Leon. To be married to her, friar; you come to mar ry 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 conjoined, 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, ha 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 honour :-
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:"

[6] This is borrowed from our Marriage Ceremony, which (with a few slight changes in phraseology) is the same as was used in the time of Shakespeare.

JOHNSON

DOUCE.

[7] This is a quotation from the Accidence. [8] i. e. lascivious. Luxury is the confessor's term for unlawful pleasures of the

JOHNSON.

Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.

Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Claud. Not to be married,

Not 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,

Clau. I know what you would say; If I have known her, You'll 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 thy 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; 9

But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pamper'd 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 dishonour'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 power1

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

[9] -chaste as is the bud-1 Before the air has tasted its sweetness.
i e. natural power. Kind is nature. JOHNSON

8

JOHNS.

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
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one ?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.

Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord.
D. Pedro. Why, then you are no maiden.-Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear; Upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count,
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window;
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.

D. John. Fye, fye! they are

Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of;
There is not chastity enough in language,
Without offence, to utter them: Thus, pretty lady,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been,

If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart!
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,
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.

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

down?

D. John. Come, let us go: these things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up.

[Exeunt Don PEDRO, Don JOHN, and CLAUDIO.

Bene. How doth the lady?

Beat. Dead, I think;-help, uncle ;

Fiero! 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.

· [2] Liberal here, as in many places of these plays, means frank beyond honesty, or decency. Free of tongue. JOHNSON.

Beat. How now, cousin Hero?
Friar. Have comfort, lady.

Leon. Dost thou look up?

Friar. Yea; Wherefore should she not?

Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?3-
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:
For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ?
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not, with charitable hand
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates;
Who smirched thus, and mired with infamy,
I might have said, No part of it is mine,
This shame derives itself from unknown loins?
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on; mine so much,
That I myself, was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her; why, she-O, she is fallen
Into a pit of ink! that the wide sea

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again;
And salt too little, which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!

Bene. Sir, sir, be patient

For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,

I know not what to say.

Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!

Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night,

I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.

Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made, Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron!

Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie?

Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness,

Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her; let her die.
Friar. Hear me a little ;

For I have only been silent so long,

And given way unto this course of fortune,

[3] That is, the story which her blushes discover to be true. JOHNSON. VOL. II.

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