CLAUDIO
Is this the monument of Leonato?
A LORD
It is, my lord.
CLAUDIO
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.
CLAUDIO
Hang there upon the tomb,
CLAUDIO
Praising her when I am dumb.
Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
CLAUDIO
Pardon, goddess of the night,
Those that slew virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily:
Graves, yawn and yield your dead,
Till death be uttered,
Heavily, heavily.
CLAUDIO
Now, unto bones good night!
Yearly will I do this rite.
DON PEDRO
Good morrow, masters: put your torches out.
The wolves have prey’d; and look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about
Dapples the drowsy East with spots of grey.
Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well.
CLAUDIO
Good morrow, masters: each his several way.
DON PEDRO
Come, let us , and put on other weeds;
And then to Leonato’s we will go.
CLAUDIO
And Hymen now with luckier issue speed’s,
Than this for whom we rend’red up this woe!