By noting of the lady: I have mark'd If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Leon. Friar, it cannot be : Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, A sin of perjury; she not denies it : Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness? Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of ?* Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know none' If I know more of any man alive, Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Prove you that any man with me convers'd At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain❜d the change of words with any creature, Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes. And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, [4] The Friar had just before boasted his great skill in fishing out the truth. And, indeed, he appears by this question to be no fool. He was by, all the while at the accusation, and heard no names mentioned. Why then should he ask her what man she was accused of? But in this lay the subtilty of his examination. For, had Hero been guilty, it was probable that in that hurry and confusion of spirits, into which the terrible insult of her lover had thrown her, she would never have observed that the man's name was not mentioned; and so, on this question, have betrayed herself by naming the person she was conscious of an affair with. The Friar observed this, and so concluded, that, were she guilty, she would probably fall into the trap he had laid for her.-I only take notice of this to show how admirably well Shakespeare knew how to sustain his characters. WARBURTON. [5] Bent is used by our author for the utmost degree of any passion, or mental quality. In this play before, Benedick says of Beatrice, her affection has its full. lent. The expression is drawn from archery; the bow has its bent when it is drawn as far as it can be. JOHNSON Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. Leon. I know not; If they speak but truth of her, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Friar. Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you in this case. And publish it, that she is dead indeed : That appertain unto a burial. Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do? Change slander to remorse; that is some good: That what we have we prize not to the worth, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, More moving-delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she liv'd indeed :--then shall be mourn, [5] i. e. we exaggerate the value. The allusion is to rack rents. STEEVENS (If ever love had interest in his liver,)" Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. Should with your body. Leon. Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me." Friar. 'Tis well consented; presently away; For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day, Perhaps, is but prolong'd; have patience, and endure. [Exe. Friar, HERO, and LEONato. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while ? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that. [6] The liver, in conformity to Shakespeare as the seat of love. Ford with liver burning hot." ancient supposition, is frequently mentioned by Thus Pistol represents Falstaff as loving Mrs. STEEVENS. [7] This is one of our author's observations upon life. Men overpowered with distress, eagerly listen to the first offers of relief, close with every scheme, and believe every promise. He that has no longer any confidence in himself, is glad to repose his trust in any other that will undertake to guide him. JOHNSON. [8] The poet, in my opinion, has shown a great deal of address in this scene. Beatrice here engages her lover to revenge the injury done her cousin Hero: and without this very natural incident, considering the character of Beatrice, and that the story of her passion for Benedick was all a fable, she could never have been easily or naturally brought to confess she loved him, notwithstanding all the foregoing preparation. And yet, on this confession, in this very place, depended the whole success of the plot upon her and Benedick. For had she not owned her love here, they must have soon found out the trick, and then the design of bringing them together had been defeated; and she would never have owned a passion she had been only tricked into, had not her desire of revenging her cousin's wrong made her drop her capricious humour at once. WARBURTON. Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wrong'd. Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? Bene. May a man do it? Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you; Is not that strange ? Beat. As strange as the thing I know not: It were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing:-I am sorry for my cousin. Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me; and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. Beat. Will you not eat your word? Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it: I protest, I love thee. Beat. Why then, God forgive me! Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice ? Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour; I was about to protest, I loved you. Bene. And do it with all thy heart. Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. Beat. Kill Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to deny it: Farewell. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, though I am here ;-There is no love in you :-Nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice, Beat. In faith, I will go. Bene. We'll be friends first. Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, with mine enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? than fight Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O, that I were a man!-What! bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,-O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace. Bene. Hear me, Beatrice ; Beat. Talk with a man out at a window ?—a proper saying! Bene. Nay but, Beatrice ;— Beat. Sweet Hero !—she is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. Bene. Beat Beat. Princes, and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count-comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it :-I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice: By this hand, I love thee. Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. Bene. Think you in your soul the count Claudio hath wronged Hero? Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a soul. Bene. Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge him; I will kiss your hand, and so leave you: By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account: As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say, she is dead; and so, farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Prison. Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Sexton, in gowns ; and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO. Dogb. Is our whole dissembly appeared? Dogb. Marry, that am I and my partner. [9] i, e. deluded her by fair promises. STEEVENS. STEEVENS [1] i. e. a specious nobleman made out of sugar. |