Death is the fairest cover for her shame, That may be wish'd for. Bea. How now, cousin Hero? Friar. Have comfort, lady. Leo. Dost thou look up? Friar. Yea; wherefore should she not? Leo. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood?- Thought 1 hy spirits were stronger than thy shames, 1 Disposition of things. SMAK. Sullied. JV Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; To her foul tainted flesh! Ben. Sir, sir, be patient: For my part, I am so attired in wonder, Bea. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! Ben. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? Bea. No, truly, not; although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. Leo. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, * What I have read. My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Leo. Friar, it cannot be : Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse Friar. 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, Friar. There is some strange misprision 1 in the princes. Ben. Two of them have the very bent of honor; And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. Leo. I know not: if they speak but truth of her. These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honor, Misconception. 2 The utmost degre |