By noting of the lady: I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions start
Into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth :-Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading, nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenour of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,

If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

Leon. Friar, it cannot be :

Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left,
Is, that she will not add to her damnation

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,
Let all my sins lack mercy!-O my father,

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,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.

Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes.
Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour ;

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,
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,

Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends
But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind,
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.

Friar. Pause awhile,

And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead;
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,

And publish it, that she is dead indeed :
Maintain a mourning ostentation;
And on your family's old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites

That appertain unto a burial.

Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do?
Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf

Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that, dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain❜d,
Upon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pitied and excus'd,
Of every hearer: For it so falls out,

That what we have we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost,
Why, then we rack the value; then we find
The virtue, that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours :-So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination;

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,)"
And wish he had not so accused her;
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell'd false,
The supposition of the lady's death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy :
And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her
(As best befits her wounded reputation,)
In some reclusive and religious life,

Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you:
And though, you know, my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly, and justly, as your soul

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?
Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.

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.
Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it.

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?
Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton!
Sexton. Which be the malefactors?

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.