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“Dear Lady Disdain”
There was rejoicing in Messina, for the war was over, and Don Pedro,
the victorious Prince of Arragon, was returning in triumph. Tidings
were sent to Leonato, the Governor, to expect his speedy approach;
and Leonato himself, with his daughter Hero and his niece Beatrice,
received the Prince’s messenger, and questioned him eagerly as to the
welfare of their friends.
“How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?” inquired Leonato.
“But few of any sort, and none of name,” replied the messenger.
“I find in this letter that Don Pedro has bestowed much honour on a
young Florentine called Claudio,” said Leonato.
“Much deserved on his part and equally remembered by Don Pedro,”
answered the messenger. “He has indeed borne himself gallantly, doing
in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion.”
When she heard this outspoken praise of the young Florentine, Hero,
the Governor’s daughter, felt a warm thrill of joy, but she only
smiled and blushed with pleasure.
“I pray you,” put in Beatrice, the Governor’s niece, who lived in her
uncle’s house, and was the dear companion of his only daughter, “is
Signor Mountanto returned from the wars or no?”
“I know none of that name, lady,” said the messenger, looking rather
puzzled; “there was none such in the army of any sort.”
“Who is he that you ask for niece?”
“My cousin means Signor Benedick of Padua,” explained Hero.
“Oh, he has returned, and as pleasant as ever he was,” said the
messenger.
“I pray you, how many has he killed and eaten in these wars?” said
Beatrice mockingly. “But no, how many has he killed? For, indeed, _I_
promised to eat all of his killing.”
“Faith, niece, you are too hard on Signor Benedick,” said Leonato.
“But he will be even with you, I do not doubt.”
“He has done good service, lady, in these wars,” said the messenger;
and then he went on to praise warmly the valour and noble qualities of
the young lord; but Beatrice would do nothing but laugh and mock at
all he said.
“You must not, sir, mistake my niece,” said Leonato at last. “There
is a kind of merry war betwixt Signor Benedick and her; they never
meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them.”
While they were still speaking, the Prince of Arragon, with his train
of noble gentlemen, arrived. Leonato welcomed them most warmly. Count
Claudio and Signor Benedick were old friends, and had previously
stayed at the Governor’s palace; indeed, before starting for the wars
Claudio had looked with more than an eye of favour on the gentle lady
Hero. As for Beatrice and Benedick, they pretended to have a great
aversion to each other, but, strange to say, instead of avoiding each
other’s society, they seemed to delight in seizing every opportunity
to plague and tease each other as much as possible.
On the present occasion Beatrice had not long to wait, and on
Benedick’s making some jesting remark to Don Pedro and Leonato, she
plunged into the fray.
“I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick; nobody
marks you.”
“What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?” retorted Benedick.
“Is it possible that Disdain should die while she has such meet food
to feed it as Signor Benedick? Courtesy herself must turn into disdain
if you come into her presence.”
“Then is Courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all
ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I
had not a hard heart, for truly I love none,” remarked Benedick in a
lofty manner.
“That is very happy for women; they would otherwise have been troubled
with a most annoying suitor,” said Beatrice. “Thank Heaven, I am like
you in that respect; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a
man swear he loves me.”
“Heaven keep your ladyship still in that mind!” said the young lord
devoutly. “So some gentleman or another shall escape injury.”
* * * * *
It was all very well for Benedick to scoff at love, but the young
Count Claudio was of a different nature. Impulsive and passionate,
he was not ashamed to own his love for the lady Hero, and with the
sympathetic help of the Prince of Arragon he speedily won the lady’s
consent and her father’s approval. The wedding-day was fixed for a
week later, and the only trial the impatient young lover had to endure
was the time that must elapse before the marriage.
Benedick, of course, did not spare his raillery on this occasion, and
he laughed with the utmost scorn when Don Pedro and Claudio declared
that his own turn would come.
“I shall see you, before I die, look pale with love,” said Don Pedro.
“With anger, with sickness, with hunger, my lord, but never with
love,” declared Benedick.
“Well, if ever you fall from this faith you will prove a notable
argument.”
“If I do, hang me in a bottle and shoot at me,” laughed Benedick.
“Well, as time shall try. ‘In time the savage bull doth bear the
yoke,’” quoted Don Pedro.
“The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it,
pluck off the bull’s horns, and set them in my forehead; and let me
be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write ‘Here is
good horse to hire,’ let them signify under my sign, ‘Here you may see
Benedick the married man!’”
Benedick’s self-assured declaration that he never intended to fall in
love or get married, and Beatrice’s equal scorn on the same subject,
put a mischievous idea into Don Pedro’s head, and it occurred to him
that the week which had to elapse before the wedding might be most
amusingly occupied.
“I will warrant that the time shall not pass dully,” he said to
Leonato and Claudio. “I will in the meanwhile undertake one of
Hercules’ labours, which is to bring Signor Benedick and the Lady
Beatrice into a mountain of affection one for the other. I would fain
have it a match, and I do not doubt of bringing it about, if you three
will but help me in the way I point out.”
“My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights’ watching,” said
Leonato.
“And I, my lord,” said Claudio.
“I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good
husband,” said the gentle Hero.
“And Benedick is not the least hopeful husband I know,” said the
Prince. “Thus far I can praise him: he is of noble race, of approved
valour, and of steadfast honesty. I will teach you how to humour your
cousin that she shall fall in love with Benedick, and I, with the help
of Leonato and Claudio, will so practise on Benedick that, in spite
of his quick wit and fastidious temper, he shall fall in love with
Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory
shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods! Come with me, and I will
tell you my plan.”