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
to 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