Act IV, Scene I - Page 2

Much Ado About Nothing | Act IV, Scene I - Page 2

BENEDICK:: My lord, my lord, be patient.(150)
For my part, I am so attired in wonder,
I know not what to say.

BEATRICE:: No, truly, not; although, until last night, I have this(155)
twelvemonth been her bedfellow.

LEONATO:: Confirmed, confirmed! O, that is stronger made
Which was before barred up with ribs of iron!
Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie,
Who loved her so that, speaking of her foulness,(160)
Washed 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 marked(165)
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes,
And in her eye there hath appeared a fire
To burn the errors that these princes hold(170)
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading nor my observation,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenour of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,(175)
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

LEONATO:: Friar, it cannot be.
Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
Is that she will not add to her damnation(180)
A sin of perjury: she not denies it.
Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?

HERO:: They know that do accuse me; I know none.(185)
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 conversed
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight(190)
Maintained the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!

BENEDICK:: Two of them have the very bent of honour;
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,(195)
The practice of it lives in Don John the bastard,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.

LEONATO:: 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.(200)
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 awaked in such a kind(205)
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them thoroughly.

FRIAR:: Pause awhile
And let my counsel sway you in this case.(210)
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(215)
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.

FRIAR:: Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf
Change slander to remorse. That is some good.(220)
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 maintained,
Upon the instant that she was accused,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused(225)
Of every hearer; for it so falls out
That what we have we prize not to the worth
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost,
Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us(230)
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(235)
Shall come apparelled in more precious habit,
More moving, delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul
Than when she lived indeed. Then shall he mourn
If ever love had interest in his liver(240)
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.(245)
But if all aim but this be levelled 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,(250)
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.

BENEDICK:: Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you;
And though you know my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,(255)
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly as your soul
Should with your body.

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 prolonged.
Have patience and endure.(265)

[Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice.]

BENEDICK:: I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not
that strange?

BEATRICE:: As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible
for me to say I loved nothing so well as you. But(280)
believe me not; and yet I lie not. I confess nothing, nor I
deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.

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