ey were all met to celebrate the marriage, and
Claudio and Hero were standing before the priest, and the priest, or
friar, as he was called, was proceeding to pronounce the marriage
ceremony, Claudio, in the most passionate language, proclaimed the guilt
of the blameless Hero, who, amazed at the strange words he uttered, said
meekly, "Is my lord well, that he does speak so wide?"

Leonato, in the utmost horror, said to the prince, "My lord, why speak
not you?" "What should I speak?" said the prince; "I stand dishonoured,
that have gone about to link my dear friend to an unworthy woman.
Leonato, upon my honour, myself, my brother, and this grieved Claudio,
did see and hear her last night at midnight talk with a man at her
chamber window."

Benedick, in astonishment at what he heard, said, "This looks not like a
nuptial."

"True, O God!" replied the heart-struck Hero; and then this hapless lady
sunk down in a fainting fit, to all appearance dead. The prince and
Claudio left the church, without staying to see if Hero would recover,
or at all regarding the distress into which they had thrown Leonato. So
hard-hearted had their anger made them.

Benedick remained, and assisted Beatrice to recover Hero from her swoon,
saying, "How does the lady?" "Dead, I think," replied Beatrice in great
agony, for she loved her cousin; and knowing her virtuous principles,
she believed nothing of what she had heard spoken against her. Not so
the poor old father; he believed the story of his child's shame, and it
was piteous to hear him lamenting over her, as she lay like one dead
before him, wishing she might never more open her eyes.

But the ancient friar was a wise man, and full of observation on human
nature, and he had attentively marked the lady's countenance when she
heard herself accused, and noted a thousand blushing shames to start
into her face, and then he saw an angel-like whiteness bear away those
blushes, and in her eye he saw a fire that did belie the error that the
prince did speak against her maiden truth, and he said to the sorrowing
father, "Call me a fool; trust not my reading, nor my observation; trust
not my age, my reverence, nor my calling, if this sweet lady lie not
guiltless here under some biting error."

When Hero had recovered from the swoon into which she had fallen, the
friar said to her, "Lady, what man is he you are accused of?" Hero
replied, "They know that do accuse me; I know of none:" then turning t