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Good morrow, Benedick

Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?
I think he thinks upon the savage bull.
Tush, fear not, man. We’ll tip thy horns with gold,
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee,
As once Europa did at lusty Jove
When he would play the noble beast in love.

One Hero died defiled, but I do live,
And surely as I live, I am a maid

Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leapt your father’s cow
And got a calf in that same noble feat
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
For this I owe you. Here comes other reck’nings.

  Enter Leonato’s brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret,
  Ursula, the ladies masked.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?
This same is she, and I do give you her.
Why, then, she’s mine.—Sweet, let me see your face.
No, that you shall not till you take her hand
Before this friar and swear to marry her.
Claudio, to Hero
Give me your hand before this holy friar.
  They take hands.
I am your husband, if you like of me.
And when I lived, I was your other wife,
And when you loved, you were my other husband.
  She unmasks.
Another Hero!
Nothing certainer.
One Hero died defiled, but I do live,
And surely as I live, I am a maid.
The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.
All this amazement can I qualify,
When after that the holy rites are ended,
I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death.
Meantime let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.

Act 5
Scene 4
Line 41

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