SCENE I. A church. Much Ado About Nothing  Shakespeare homepage  |  Much Ado About Nothing  | Act 4, Scene 1 

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 Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, FRIAR FRANCIS, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and Attendants  LEONATO  Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain 

 form of marriage, and you shall recount their 

 particular duties afterwards. 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady. 

 CLAUDIO  No. 

 LEONATO  To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her. 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  Lady, you come hither to be married to this count. 

 HERO  I do. 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  If either of you know any inward impediment why you 

 should not be conjoined, charge you, on your souls, 

 to utter it. 

 CLAUDIO  Know you any, Hero? 

 HERO  None, my lord. 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  Know you any, count? 

 LEONATO  I dare make his answer, none. 

 CLAUDIO  O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily 

 do, not knowing what they do! 

 BENEDICK  How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of 

 laughing, as, ah, ha, he! 

 CLAUDIO  Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave: 

 Will you with free and unconstrained soul 

 Give me this maid, your daughter? 

 LEONATO  As freely, son, as God did give her me. 

 CLAUDIO  And what have I to give you back, whose worth 

 May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? 

 DON PEDRO  Nothing, unless you render her again. 

 CLAUDIO  Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. 

 There, Leonato, take her back again: 

 Give not this rotten orange to your friend; 

 She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. 

 Behold how like a maid she blushes here! 

 O, what authority and show of truth 

 Can cunning sin cover itself withal! 

 Comes not that blood as modest evidence 

 To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, 

 All you that see her, that she were a maid, 

 By these exterior shows? But she is none: 

 She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; 

 Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 

 LEONATO  What do you mean, my lord? 

 CLAUDIO  Not to be married, 

 Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. 

 LEONATO  Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, 

 Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, 

 And made defeat of her virginity,-- 

 CLAUDIO  I know what you would say: if I have known her, 

 You will say she did embrace me as a husband, 

 And so extenuate the 'forehand sin: 

 No, Leonato, 

 I never tempted her with word too large; 

 But, as a brother to his sister, show'd 

 Bashful sincerity and comely love. 

 HERO  And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? 

 CLAUDIO  Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it: 

 You seem to me as Dian in her orb, 

 As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; 

 But you are more intemperate in your blood 

 Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals 

 That rage in savage sensuality. 

 HERO  Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? 

 LEONATO  Sweet prince, why speak not you? 

 DON PEDRO  What should I speak? 

 I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about 

 To link my dear friend to a common stale. 

 LEONATO  Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? 

 DON JOHN  Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. 

 BENEDICK  This looks not like a nuptial. 

 HERO  True! O God! 

 CLAUDIO  Leonato, stand I here? 

 Is this the prince? is this the prince's brother? 

 Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? 

 LEONATO  All this is so: but what of this, my lord? 

 CLAUDIO  Let me but move one question to your daughter; 

 And, by that fatherly and kindly power 

 That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 

 LEONATO  I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. 

 HERO  O, God defend me! how am I beset! 

 What kind of catechising call you this? 

 CLAUDIO  To make you answer truly to your name. 

 HERO  Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name 

 With any just reproach? 

 CLAUDIO  Marry, that can Hero; 

 Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. 

 What man was he talk'd with you yesternight 

 Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? 

 Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. 

 HERO  I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. 

 DON PEDRO  Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, 

 I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, 

 Myself, my brother and this grieved count 

 Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night 

 Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window 

 Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, 

 Confess'd the vile encounters they have had 

 A thousand times in secret. 

 DON JOHN  Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord, 

 Not to be spoke of; 

 There is not chastity enough in language 

 Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, 

 I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. 

 CLAUDIO  O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been, 

 If half thy outward graces had been placed 

 About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! 

 But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, 

 Thou pure impiety and impious purity! 

 For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, 

 And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, 

 To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, 

 And never shall it more be gracious. 

 LEONATO  Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? 



 HERO swoons  BEATRICE  Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down? 

 DON JOHN  Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, 

 Smother her spirits up. 



 Exeunt DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, and CLAUDIO  BENEDICK  How doth the lady? 

 BEATRICE  Dead, I think. Help, uncle! 

 Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! 

 LEONATO  O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand. 

 Death is the fairest cover for her shame 

 That may be wish'd for. 

 BEATRICE  How now, cousin Hero! 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  Have comfort, lady. 

 LEONATO  Dost thou look up? 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  Yea, wherefore should she not? 

 LEONATO  Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing 

 Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny 

 The story that is printed in her blood? 

 Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes: 

 For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, 

 Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, 

 Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, 

 Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one? 

 Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? 

 O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? 

 Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? 

 Why had I not with charitable hand 

 Took up a beggar's issue at my gates, 

 Who smirch'd thus and mired with infamy, 

 I might have said 'No part of it is mine; 

 This shame derives itself from unknown loins'? 

 But mine and mine I loved and mine I praised 

 And mine that I was proud on, mine so much 

 That I myself was to myself not mine, 

 Valuing of her,--why, she, O, she is fallen 

 Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea 

 Hath drops too few to wash her clean again 

 And salt too little which may season give 

 To her foul-tainted flesh! 

 BENEDICK  Sir, sir, be patient. 

 For my part, I am so attired in wonder, 

 I know not what to say. 

 BEATRICE  O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! 

 BENEDICK  Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? 

 BEATRICE  No, truly not; although, until last night, 

 I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 

 LEONATO  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 loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness, 

 Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die. 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  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 

 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 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 tenor of my book; trust not my age, 

 My reverence, calling, nor divinity, 

 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 

 A sin of perjury; she not denies it: 

 Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse 

 That which appears in proper nakedness? 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  Lady, what man is he you are accused 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 conversed 

 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 FRANCIS  There is some strange misprision in the princes. 

 BENEDICK  Two of them have the very bent of honour; 

 And if their wisdoms be misled in this, 

 The practise of it lives in John the bastard, 

 Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. 

 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. 

 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, 

 Both strength of limb and policy of mind, 

 Ability in means and choice of friends, 

 To quit me of them throughly. 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  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. 

 LEONATO  What shall become of this? what will this do? 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  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 so be maintain'd, 

 Upon the instant that she was accused, 

 Shall be lamented, pitied and excused 

 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 lived indeed; then shall he mourn, 

 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. 

 BENEDICK  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. 

 LEONATO  Being that I flow in grief, 

 The smallest twine may lead me. 

 FRIAR FRANCIS  '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. 



 Exeunt all but BENEDICK and BEATRICE  BENEDICK  Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? 

 BEATRICE  Yea, and I will weep a while longer. 

 BENEDICK  I will not desire that. 

 BEATRICE  You have no reason; I do it freely. 

 BENEDICK  Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. 

 BEATRICE  Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! 

 BENEDICK  Is there any way to show such friendship? 

 BEATRICE  A very even way, but no such friend. 

 BENEDICK  May a man do it? 

 BEATRICE  It is a man's office, but not yours. 

 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 believe me not; and yet I lie not; I 

 confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. 

 BENEDICK  By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. 

 BEATRICE  Do not swear, and eat it. 

 BENEDICK  I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make 

 him eat it that says I love not you. 

 BEATRICE  Will you not eat your word? 

 BENEDICK  With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest 

 I love thee. 

 BEATRICE  Why, then, God forgive me! 

 BENEDICK  What offence, sweet Beatrice? 

 BEATRICE  You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to 

 protest I loved you. 

 BENEDICK  And do it with all thy heart. 

 BEATRICE  I love you with so much of my heart that none is 

 left to protest. 

 BENEDICK  Come, bid me do any thing for thee. 

 BEATRICE  Kill Claudio. 

 BENEDICK  Ha! not for the wide world. 

 BEATRICE  You kill me to deny it. Farewell. 

 BENEDICK  Tarry, sweet Beatrice. 

 BEATRICE  I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in 

 you: nay, I pray you, let me go. 

 BENEDICK  Beatrice,-- 

 BEATRICE  In faith, I will go. 

 BENEDICK  We'll be friends first. 

 BEATRICE  You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy. 

 BENEDICK  Is Claudio thine enemy? 

 BEATRICE  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 market-place. 

 BENEDICK  Hear me, Beatrice,-- 

 BEATRICE  Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying! 

 BENEDICK  Nay, but, Beatrice,-- 

 BEATRICE  Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. 

 BENEDICK  Beat-- 

 BEATRICE  Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, 

 a goodly count, 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. 

 BENEDICK  Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. 

 BEATRICE  Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. 

 BENEDICK  Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero? 

 BEATRICE  Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. 

 BENEDICK  Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will 

 kiss your hand, and so I 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. 



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