A Church.
 Enter CLAUDIO, DON PEDRO, and three or four LORDS attending with tapers,
 followed by BALTHASAR and MUSICIANS.

Claudio	Is this the monument of Leonato?

A Lord	It is, my lord.

Claudio	[Reads from 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.
									 [Hangs the scroll on the tomb.

			Hang thou there upon the tomb,
			Praising her when I am dumb.

	Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.

Balthasar	[Sings.]	Pardon, goddess of the night,
			Those that slew thy 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 utterd,
				Heavily, heavily.

Claudio	Now unto thy bones good night!
	Yearly will I do this rite.

Don Pedro	Good morrow, masters. Put your torches out;
		The wolves have preyed, 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 hence, 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 rendered up this woe!
													[Exeunt.
