For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, 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 ; 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. Friar. Have comfort, lady. Leon. Friar. How now, cousin Hero? Dost thou look up? 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 + ?—— 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? Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; 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, By noting of the lady : I have mark'd 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 Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of 5o ? If I know more of any man alive, Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy!-O my father, |