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Beat. Very ill.

Bene. And how do you?

Beat. Very ill too.

Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter Ursula.

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle, yonder’s old coil at home. It is prov’d my Lady Hero hath been falsely accus’d, the Prince and Claudio mightily abus’d, and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior?

Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.

Exeunt.

¶

Enter Claudio, Prince [Don Pedro], and three or four with tapers.

Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?

[A] Lord. It is, my lord.

[Claud. Reading out of a scroll.]

Epitaph

“Done to death by slanderous tongues

Was the Hero that here lies.

Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,

Gives her fame which never dies.

So the life that died with shame

Lives in death with glorious fame.”

Hang thou there upon the tomb,