_Friar._ Pause awhile, 200 And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princes left for dead: Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed; Maintain a mourning ostentation, 205 And on your family’s old monument Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. _Leon._ What shall become of this? what will this do? _Friar._ Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf 210 Change slander to remorse; that is some good: But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth. She dying, as it must be so maintain’d, Upon the instant that she was accused, 215 Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack’d and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find 220 The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio: When he shall hear she died upon his words, The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination; 225 And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell’d in more precious habit, More moving-delicate and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn, 230 If ever love had interest in his liver, And wish he had not so accused her, No, though he thought his accusation true. Let this be so, and doubt not but success Will fashion the event in better shape 235 Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim but this be levell’d false, The supposition of the lady’s death Will quench the wonder of her infamy: And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, 240 As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. _Bene._ Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you: And though you know my inwardness and love 245 Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly as your soul Should with your body. _Leon._ Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. 250 _Friar._ ’Tis well consented: presently away; For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day Perhaps is but prolong’d: have patience and endure. [_Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice._ _Bene._ Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? 255 _Beat._ Yea, and I will weep a while longer. _Bene._ I will not desire that. _Beat._ You have no reason; I do it freely. _Bene._ Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.