o
Leonato, she said, "O my father, if you can prove that any man has ever
conversed with me at hours unmeet, or that I yesternight changed words
with any creature, refuse me, hate me, torture me to death."

"There is," said the friar, "some strange misunderstanding in the prince
and Claudio;" and then he counselled Leonato, that he should report that
Hero was dead; and he said that the death-like swoon in which they had
left Hero would make this easy of belief; and he also advised him that
he should put on mourning, and erect a monument for her, and do all
rites that appertain to a burial. "What shall become of this?" said
Leonato; "What will this do?" The friar replied, "This report of her
death shall change slander into pity: that is some good; but that is not
all the good I hope for. When Claudio shall hear she died upon hearing
his words, the idea of her life shall sweetly creep into his
imagination. Then shall he mourn, if ever love had interest in his
heart, and wish that he had not so accused her; yea, though he thought
his accusation true."

Benedick now said, "Leonato, let the friar advise you; and though you
know how well I love the prince and Claudio, yet on my honour I will not
reveal this secret to them."

Leonato, thus persuaded, yielded; and he said sorrowfully, "I am so
grieved, that the smallest twine may lead me." The kind friar then led
Leonato and Hero away to comfort and console them, and Beatrice and
Benedick remained alone; and this was the meeting from which their
friends, who contrived the merry plot against them, expected so much
diversion; those friends who were now overwhelmed with affliction, and
from whose minds all thoughts of merriment seemed for ever banished.

Benedick was the first who spoke, and he said, "Lady Beatrice, have you
wept all this while?" "Yea, and I will weep a while longer," said
Beatrice. "Surely," said Benedick, "I do believe your fair cousin is
wronged." "Ah!" said Beatrice, "how much might that man deserve of me
who would right her!" Benedick then said, "Is there any way to show such
friendship? I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that
strange?" "It were as possible," said Beatrice, "for me to say I loved
nothing in the world 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."
"By my sword," said Benedick, "you love me, and I protest I love you.
Come, bid me do anything for you