# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/Much adoe about Nothing/Act 4

Actus Quartus.
Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero, and Beatrice.
Leonato.
Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine forme of marriage, and you shal recount their particular duties afterwards.
Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady.
Clau.
No.
Leo.
To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie her.
Frier.
Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count.
Hero.
I doe.
Frier.
If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your soules to vtter it.
Claud.
Know you anie, Hero?
Hero.
None my Lord.
Frier.
Know you anie, Count?
Leon.
I dare make his answer, None.
Clau.
O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do!
Bene.
How now! interiections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he.
Clau.
Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue, Will you with free and vnconstrained soule Giue me this maid your daughter?
Leon.
As freely sonne as God did giue her me.
Cla.
And what haue I to giue you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
Prin.
Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe.
Clau.
Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes: There Leonato, take her backe againe, Giue not this rotten Orenge to your friend, Shee's but the signe and semblance of her honour: Behold how like a maid she blushes heere! O what authoritie and shew of truth Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall! Comes not that bloud, as modest euidence, To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare All you that see her, that she were a maide, By these exterior shewes? But she is none: She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed: Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie.
Leonato.
What doe you meane, my Lord?
Clau.
Not to be married, Not to knit my soule to an approued wanton.
Leon.
Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe, Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginitie.
Clau.
I know what you would say: if I haue knowne her, You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sinne: No Leonato, I neuer tempted her with word too large, But as a brother to his sister, shewed Bashfull sinceritie and comely loue.
Hero.
And seem'd I euer otherwise to you?
Clau.
Out on thee seeming, I will write against it, You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe, As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne: But you are more intemperate in your blood, Than Venus, or those pampred animalls, That rage in sauage sensualitie.
Hero.
Is my Lord well, that he doth speake so wide?
Leon.
Sweete Prince, why speake not you?
Prin.
What should I speake? I stand dishonour'd that haue gone about, To linke my deare friend to a common stale.
Leon.
Are these things spoken, or doe I but dreame?
Bast.
Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
Bene.
This lookes not like a nuptiall.
Hero.
True, O God!
Clau.
Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother? Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne?
Leon.
All this is so, but what of this my Lord?
Clau.
Let me but moue one question to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power, That you haue in her, bid her answer truly.
Leo.
I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe.
Hero.
O God defend me how am I beset, What kinde of catechizing call you this?
Clau.
To make you answer truly to your name.
Hero.
Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any iust reproach?
Claud.
Marry that can Hero, Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue. What man was he, talkt with you yesternight, Out at your window betwixt twelue and one? Now if you are a maid, answer to this.
Hero.
I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord.
Prince.
Why then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must heare: vpon mine honor, My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Count Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night, Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed most like a liberall villaine, Confest the vile encounters they haue had A thousand times in secret.
Iohn.
Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord, Not to be spoken of, There is not chastitie enough in language, Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady I am sorry for thy much misgouernment.
Claud.
O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart? But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie, For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue, And on my eie-lids shall Coniecture hang, To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme, And neuer shall it more be gracious.
Leon.
Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?
Beat.
Why how now cosin, wherfore sink you down?
Bast.
Come, let vs go: these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits vp.
Bene.
How doth the Lady?
Beat.
Dead I thinke, helpe vncle, Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier.
Leonato.
O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand, Death is the fairest couer for her shame That may be wisht for.
Beatr.
How now cosin Hero?
Fri.
Haue comfort Ladie.
Leon.
Dost thou looke vp?
Frier.
Yea, wherefore should she not?
Leon.
Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing Cry shame vpon her? Could she heere denie The storie that is printed in her blood? Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger then thy shames, My selfe would on the reward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one? Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame? O one too much by thee: why had I one? Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies? Why had I not with charitable hand Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates, Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie, I might haue said, no part of it is mine: This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines, But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on mine so much, That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine: Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe, And salt too little, which may season giue To her foule tainted flesh.
Ben.
Sir, sir, be patient: for my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say.
Bea.
O on my soule my cosin is belied.
Ben.
Ladie, were you her bedfellow last night?
Bea.
No, truly: not although vntill last night, I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow.
Leon.
Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is stronger made Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron. Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie, Who lou'd her so, that speaking of her foulnesse, Wash'd it with teares? Hence from her, let her die.
Fri.
Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so long, and giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting of the Ladie, I haue markt. A thousand blushing apparitions, To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames, In Angel whitenesse beare away those blushes, And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire To burne the errors that these Princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a foole, Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations, Which with experimental seale doth warrant The tenure of my booke: trust not my age, My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie, If this sweet Ladie lye not guiltlesse heere, Vnder some biting error.
Leo.
Friar, it cannot be: Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left, Is, that she wil not adde to her damnation, A sinne of periury, she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to couer with excuse, That which appeares in proper nakednesse?
Fri.
Ladie, 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 aliue Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant, Let all my sinnes lacke mercy. O my Father, Proue you that any man with me conuerst, At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.
Fri.
There is some strange misprision in the Princes.
Ben.
Two of them haue the verie bent of honor, And if their wisedomes be misled in this: The practise of it liues in Iohn the bastard, Whose spirits toile in frame of villanies.
Leo.
I know not: if they speake but truth of her, These hands shall teare her: If they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall wel heare of it. Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine, Nor age so eate vp my inuention, Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall finde, awak'd in such a kinde, Both strength of limbe, and policie of minde, Ability in meanes, and choise of friends, To quit me of them throughly.
Fri.
Pause awhile: And let my counsell sway you in this case, Your daughter heere the Princesse (left for dead) Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead indeed: Maintaine a mourning ostentation, And on your Families old monument, Hang mournfull Epitaphes, and do all rites, That appertaine vnto a buriall.
Leon.
What shall become of this? What wil this do?
Fri.
Marry this wel carried, shall on her behalfe, Change slander to remorse, that is some good, But not for that dreame I on this strange course, But on this trauaile looke for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Vpon the instant that she was accus'd, Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd Of euery hearer: for it so fals out, That what we haue, we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enioy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we racke the value, then we finde The vertue that possession would not shew vs Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio: When he shal heare she dyed vpon his words, Th' Idea of her life shal sweetly creepe Into his study of imagination. And euery louely Organ of her life, Shall come apparel'd in more precious habite: More mouing delicate, and ful of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soule Then when she liu'd indeed: then shal he mourne, If euer Loue had interest in his Liuer, And wish he had not so accused her: No, though he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not but successe Wil fashion the euent in better shape, Then I can lay it downe in likelihood. But if all ayme but this be leuelld false, The supposition of the Ladies death, Will quench the wonder of her infamie. And if it sort not well, you may conceale her As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusiue and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, mindes and iniuries.
Bene.
Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you, And though you know my inwardnesse and loue Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio.
Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this, As secretly and iustlie, as your soule Should with your bodie.
Leon.
Being that I flow in greefe, The smallest twine may lead me.
Frier.
'Tis well consented, presently away, For to strange sores, strangely they straine the cure, Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding day Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure. Exit.
Bene.
Lady Beatrice, haue you wept all this while?
Beat.
Yea, and I will weepe a while longer.
Bene.
I will not desire that.
Beat.
You haue no reason, I doe it freely.
Bene.
Surelie I do beleeue your fair cosin is wrong'd.
Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of mee that would right her!
Bene.
Is there any way to shew such friendship?
Beat.
A verie euen way, but no such friend.
Bene.
May a man doe it?
Beat.
It is a mans office, but not yours.
Bene.
I doe loue 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 loued nothing so well as you, but beleeue me not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor I deny nothing, I am sorry for my cousin.
Bene.
By my sword Beatrice thou lou'st me.
Beat.
Doe not sweare by it and eat it.
Bene.
I will sweare by it that you loue mee, and I will make him eat it that sayes I loue not you.
Beat.
Will you not eat your word?
Bene.
With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest I loue thee.
Beat.
Why then God forgiue me.
Bene.
What offence sweet Beatrice?
Beat.
You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was about to protest I loued you.
Bene.
And doe it with all thy heart.
Beat.
I loue you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest.
Bened.
Come, bid me doe any thing for thee.
Beat.
Kill Claudio.
Bene.
Ha, not for the wide world.
Beat.
You kill me to denie, farewell.
Bene.
Tarrie sweet Beatrice.
Beat.
I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue in you, nay I pray you let me goe.
Bene.
Beatrice.
Beat.
Infaith I will goe.
Bene.
Wee'll be friends first.
Beat.
You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight with mine enemy.
Bene.
Is Claudio thine enemie?
Beat.
Is a not approued in the height a villaine, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! what, beare her in hand vntill they come to take hands, and then with publike accusation vncouered slander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.
Bene.
Heare me Beatrice.
Beat.
Talke with a man out at a window, a proper saying.
Bene.
Nay but Beatrice.
Beat.
Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is slandered, she is vndone.
Bene.
Beat?
Beat.
Princes and Counties! surelie a Princely testimonie, a goodly Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant surelie, 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 cursies, valour into complement, and men are onelie turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and sweares it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a woman with grieuing.
Bene.
Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee.
Beat.
Vse it for my loue some other way then swearing by it.
Bened.
Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero?
Beat.
Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule.
Bene.
Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will kisse your hand, and so leaue you: by this hand Claudio shall render me a deere account: as you heare of me, so thinke of me: goe comfort your coosin, I must say she is dead, and so farewell.
Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes.
Keeper.
Is our whole dissembly appeard?
Cowley.
O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton.
Sexton.
Which be the malefactors?
Andrew.
Marry that am I, and my partner.
Cowley.
Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition to examine.
Sexton.
But which are the offenders that are to be examined, let them come before master Constable.
Kemp.
Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is your name, friend?
Bor.
Borachio.
Kem.
Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra.
Con.
I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade.
Kee.
Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: maisters, doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued alreadie that you are little better than false knaues, and it will goe neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your selues?
Con.
Marry sir, we say we are none.
Kemp.
A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I will goe about with him: come you hither sirra, a word in your eare sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaues.
Bor.
Sir, I say to you, we are none.
Kemp.
Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none?
Sext.
Master Constable, you goe not the way to examine, you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.
Kemp.
Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch come forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name, accuse these men.
Watch 1.
This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes brother was a villaine.
Kemp.
Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine.
Bora.
Master Constable.
Kemp.
Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke I promise thee.
Sexton.
What heard you him say else?
Watch 2.
Mary that he had receiued a thousand Dukates of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.
Kemp.
Flat Burglarie as euer was committed.
Const.
Yea by th' masse that it is.
Sexton.
What else fellow?
Watch 1.
And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her.
Kemp.
O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euerlasting redemption for this.
Sexton.
What else?
Watch.
This is all.
Sexton.
And this is more masters then you can deny, Prince Iohn is this morning secretly stolne away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died: Master Constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato, I will goe before, and shew him their examination.
Const.
Come, let them be opinion'd.
Sex.
Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe.
Kem.
Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them thou naughty varlet.
Couley.
Away, you are an asse, you are an asse.
Kemp.
Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee downe an asse! but masters, remember that I am an asse: though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an asse: No thou villaine, thou art full of piety as shall be prou'd vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoulder, and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing handsome about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ downe an asse! Exit.
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