There lived in the palace at Messina two ladies, whose names were
Hero and Beatrice. Hero was the daughter, and Beatrice the niece, of
Leonato, the governor of Messina. Beatrice was of a lively temper, and
loved to divert her cousin Hero, who was of a more serious disposition,
with her sprightly sallies. Whatever was going forward was sure to make
matter of mirth for the light-hearted Beatrice.
At the time the history of these ladies commences, some young men of
high rank in the army, as they were passing through Messina on their
return from a war that was just ended, in which they had distinguished
themselves by their great bravery, came to visit Leonato. Among these
were Don Pedro, the prince of Arragon, and his friend Claudio, who was
a lord of Florence; and with them came the wild and witty Benedick, and
he was a lord of Padua.
These strangers had been at Messina before, and the hospitable governor
introduced them to his daughter and his niece as their old friends
and acquaintance. Benedick, the moment he entered the room, began a
lively conversation with Leonato and the prince. Beatrice, who liked
not to be left out of any discourse, interrupted Benedick with saying,
“I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick; nobody
marks you.” Benedick was just such another rattlebrain as Beatrice,
yet he was not pleased at this free salutation; he thought it did not
become a well-bred lady to be so flippant with her tongue; and he
remembered, when he was last at Messina, that Beatrice used to select
him to make her merry jests upon. And as there is no one who so little
likes to be made a jest of as those who are apt to take the same
liberty themselves, so it was with Benedick and Beatrice; these two
sharp wits never met in former times but a perfect war of raillery was
kept up between them, and they always parted mutually displeased with
each other. Therefore when Beatrice stopped him in the middle of his
discourse with telling him nobody marked what he was saying, Benedick,
affecting not to have observed before that she was present, said,
“What, my dear lady Disdain, are you yet living?” And now war broke out
afresh between them, and a long jangling argument ensued, during which
Beatrice, although she knew he had so well approved his valor in the
late war, said she would eat all he had killed there: and observing the
prince take delight in Benedick’s conversation, she called him “the
prince’s jester.” This sarcasm sank deeper into the mind of Benedick
than all Beatrice had said before. The hint she gave him that he was a
coward, by saying she would eat all he had killed, he did not regard,
knowing himself to be a brave man; but there is nothing that great wits
so much dread as the imputation of buffoonery, because the charge comes
sometimes a little too near the truth; therefore Benedick perfectly
hated Beatrice, when she called him “the prince’s jester.”
The modest lady Hero was silent before the noble guests; and while
Claudio was attentively observing the improvement which time had
made in her beauty, and was contemplating the exquisite graces of
her fine figure (for she was an admirable young lady), the prince
was highly amused with listening to the humorous dialogue between
Benedick and Beatrice; and he said in a whisper to Leonato, “This is a
pleasant-spirited young lady. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.”
Leonato replied to this suggestion, “O my lord, my lord, if they were
but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.” But though Leonato
thought they would make a discordant pair, the prince did not give up
the idea of watching these two keen wits together.
When the prince returned with Claudio from the palace, he found that
the marriage he had devised between Benedick and Beatrice was not the
only one projected in that good company, for Claudio spoke in such
terms of Hero, as made the prince guess at what was passing in his
heart; and he liked it well, and he said to Claudio, “Do you affect
Hero?” To this question Claudio replied, “Oh, my lord, when I was
last at Messina, I looked upon her with a soldier’s eye, that liked,
but had no leisure for loving; but now, in this happy time of peace,
thoughts of war have left their places vacant in my mind, and in their
room come thronging soft and delicate thoughts, all prompting me how
fair young Hero is, reminding me that I liked her before I went to the
wars.” Claudio’s confession of his love for Hero so wrought upon the
prince that he lost no time in soliciting the consent of Leonato to
accept of Claudio for a son-in-law. Leonato agreed to this proposal,
and the prince found no great difficulty in persuading the gentle Hero
herself to listen to the suit of the noble Claudio, who was a lord of
rare endowments and highly accomplished; and Claudio, assisted by his
kind prince, soon prevailed upon Leonato to fix an early day for the
celebration of his marriage with Hero.
Claudio was to wait but a few days before he was to be married to
his fair lady; yet he complained of the interval being tedious, as
indeed most young men are impatient, when they are waiting for the
accomplishment of any event they have set their hearts upon. The
prince, therefore, to make the time short to him, proposed as a kind
of merry pastime, that they should invent some artful scheme to make
Benedick and Beatrice fall in love with each other. Claudio entered
with great satisfaction into this whim of the prince, and Leonato
promised them his assistance, and even Hero said she would do any
modest office to help her cousin to a good husband.
The device the prince invented was, that the gentlemen should make
Benedick believe that Beatrice was in love with him, and that Hero
should make Beatrice believe that Benedick was in love with her. The
prince, Leonato, and Claudio began their operations first, and watching
an opportunity when Benedick was quietly seated reading in an arbor,
the prince and his assistants took their station among the trees behind
the arbor, so near that Benedick could not choose but hear all they
said; and after some careless talk the prince said, “Come hither,
Leonato. What was it you told me the other day—that your niece Beatrice
was in love with Signor Benedick? I did never think that lady would
have loved any man.” “No, nor I neither, my lord,” answered Leonato.
“It is most wonderful that she should so doat on Benedick, whom she
in all outward behavior seemed ever to dislike.” Claudio confirmed
all this, with saying that Hero had told him Beatrice was so in love
with Benedick, that she would certainly die of grief, if he could not
be brought to love her; which Leonato and Claudio seemed to agree
was impossible, he having always been such a railer against all fair
ladies, and in particular against Beatrice.
The prince affected to hearken to all this with great compassion for
Beatrice, and said, “It were good that Benedick were told of this.” “To
what end?” said Claudio; “he would but make sport of it, and torture
the poor lady worse.” “And if he should,” said the prince, “it were a
good deed to hang him; for Beatrice is an excellent sweet lady, and
exceeding wise in everything but in loving Benedick.” Then the prince
motioned to his companions that they should walk on, and leave Benedick
to meditate upon what he had overheard.
Benedick had been listening with great eagerness to this conversation;
and he said to himself, when he heard Beatrice loved him, “Is it
possible? Sits the wind in that corner?” And when they were gone, he
began to reason in this manner with himself: “This can be no trick!
they were very serious, and they have the truth from Hero, and seem
to pity the lady. Love me! Why, it must be requited. I did never think
to marry. But when I said I should die a bachelor, I did not think I
should live to be married. They say the lady is virtuous and fair. So
she is. And wise in everything but in loving me. Why, that is no great
argument of her folly. But here comes Beatrice. By this day, she is a
fair lady! I do spy some marks of love in her.” Beatrice now approached
him, and said with her usual tartness, “Against my will, I am sent to
bid you come in to dinner.” Benedick, who never felt himself disposed
to speak so politely to her before, replied, “Fair Beatrice, I thank
you for your pains;” and when Beatrice, after two or three more rude
speeches, left him, Benedick thought he observed a concealed meaning of
kindness under the uncivil words she uttered, and he said aloud, “If I
do not take pity on her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a
Jew. I will go get her picture.”
The gentleman being thus caught in the net they had spread for him,
it was now Hero’s turn to play her part with Beatrice; and for this
purpose she sent for Ursula and Margaret, two gentlewomen who attended
upon her, and she said to Margaret, “Good Margaret, run to the parlor;
there you will find my cousin Beatrice talking with the prince and
Claudio. Whisper in her ear, that I and Ursula are walking in the
orchard, and that our discourse is all of her. Bid her steal into that
pleasant arbor, where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, like ungrateful
minions, forbid the sun to enter.” This arbor, into which Hero desired
Margaret to entice Beatrice, was the very same pleasant arbor where
Benedick had so lately been an attentive listener. “I will make her
come, I warrant, presently,” said Margaret.
Hero, then taking Ursula with her into the orchard, said to her, “Now,
Ursula, when Beatrice comes, we will walk up and down this alley, and
our talk must be only of Benedick, and when I name him, let it be
your part to praise him more than ever man did merit. My talk to you
must be how Benedick is in love with Beatrice. Now begin; for look
where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs close by the ground, to hear our
conference.” They then began; Hero saying, as if in answer to something
which Ursula had said, “No truly, Ursula. She is too disdainful; her
spirits are as coy as wild birds of the rock.” “But are you sure,” said
Ursula, “that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?” Hero replied, “So
says the prince, and my lord Claudio, and they entreated me to acquaint
her with it; but I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, never to let
Beatrice know of it.” “Certainly,” replied Ursula, “it were not good
she knew his love, lest she made sport of it.” “Why, to say truth,”
said Hero, “I never yet saw a man, how wise soever, or noble, young
or rarely featured, but she would dispraise him.” “Sure, sure, such
carping is not commendable,” said Ursula. “No,” replied Hero, “but who
dare tell her so? If I should speak she would mock me into air.” “O
you wrong your cousin,” said Ursula: “she can not be so much without
true judgment, as to refuse so rare a gentleman as Signor Benedick.”
“He hath an excellent good name,” said Hero: “indeed he is the first
man in Italy, always excepting my dear Claudio.” And now, Hero giving
her attendant a hint that it was time to change the discourse, Ursula
said, “And when are you to be married, madam?” Hero then told her, that
she was to be married to Claudio the next day, and desired she would
go in with her, and look at some new attire, as she wished to consult
with her on what she should wear on the morrow. Beatrice, who had been
listening with breathless eagerness to this dialogue, when they went
away, exclaimed, “What fire is in my ears? Can this be true? Farewell
contempt, and scorn and maiden pride, adieu! Benedick, love on! I will
requite you, taming my wild heart to your loving hand.” It must have
been a pleasant sight to see these old enemies converted into new and
loving friends; and to behold their first meeting after being cheated
into mutual liking by the merry artifice of the good-humored prince.
But a sad reverse in the fortunes of Hero must now be thought of. The
morrow which was to have been her wedding-day, brought sorrow in the
heart of Hero, and her good father Leonato.
The prince had a half-brother, who came from the wars along with him
to Messina. This brother (his name was Don John) was a melancholy,
discontented man, whose spirits seemed to labour in the contriving
of villanies. He hated the prince his brother, and he hated Claudio,
because he was the prince’s friend, and determined to prevent Claudio’s
marriage with Hero, only for the malicious pleasure of making Claudio
and the prince unhappy; for he knew the prince had set his heart upon
this marriage, almost as much as Claudio himself: and to effect this
wicked purpose, he employed one Borachio, a man as bad as himself, whom
he encouraged with the offer of a great reward. This Borachio paid
his court to Margaret, Hero’s attendant; and Don John, knowing this,
prevailed upon him to make Margaret promise to talk with him from her
lady’s chamber window that night, after Hero was asleep, and also to
dress herself in Hero’s clothes, the better to deceive Claudio into the
belief that it was Hero; for that was the end he meant to compass by
this wicked plot.
Don John then went to the prince and Claudio, and told them that Hero
was an imprudent lady, and that she talked with men from her chamber
window at midnight. Now this was the evening before the wedding, and he
offered to take them that night, where they should themselves hear Hero
discoursing with a man from her window; and they consented to go along
with him, and Claudio said, “If I see anything to-night why I should
not marry her, to-morrow in the congregation, where I intended to wed
her, there I will shame her.” The prince also said, “And as I assisted
you to obtain her, I will join with you to disgrace her.”
When Don John brought them near Hero’s chamber that night, they saw
Borachio standing under the window, and they saw Margaret looking out
of Hero’s window, and heard her talking with Borachio; and Margaret
being dressed in the same clothes they had seen Hero wear, the prince
and Claudio believed it was the lady Hero herself. Nothing could equal
the anger of Claudio, when he had made (as he thought) this discovery.
All his love for the innocent Hero was at once converted into hatred,
and he resolved to expose her in the church, as he had said he would,
the next day; and the prince agreed to this, thinking no punishment
could be too severe for the naughty lady, who talked with a man from
her window the very night before she was going to be married to the
noble Claudio.
The next day, when they were all met to celebrate the marriage,
and Claudio and Hero were standing before the priest, and the
priest or friar, as he was called, was proceeding to pronounce the
marriage-ceremony, Claudio, in the most passionate language, proclaimed
the guilt of the blameless Hero, who, amazed at the strange words he
uttered, said meekly, “Is my lord well, that he does speak so wide?”
Leonato, in the utmost horror, said to the prince, “My lord, why speak
not you?” “What should I speak?” said the prince: “I stand dishonored,
that have gone about to link my dear friend with an unworthy woman.
Leonato! upon my honor, myself, my brother, and this grieved Claudio,
did see and hear her last night at midnight talk with a man at her
chamber-window.” Benedick, in astonishment at what he heard, said,
“This looks not like a nuptial.”
“True, O God!” replied the heart-struck Hero; and then this hapless
lady sank down in a fainting fit, to all appearance dead. The prince
and Claudio left the church, without staying to see if Hero would
recover, or at all regarding the distress into which they had thrown
Leonato, so hard-hearted had anger made them. Benedick remained, and
assisted Beatrice to recover Hero from her swoon, saying, “How does the
lady?” “Dead, I think,” replied Beatrice in great agony, for she loved
her cousin; and, knowing her virtuous principles, she believed nothing
of what she had heard spoken against her. Not so the poor old father;
he believed the story of his child’s shame, and it was piteous to hear
him lamenting over her, as she lay like one dead before him, wishing
she might never more open her eyes.
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 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 counseled 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 he had not so accused her; yea, though he thought his
accusation true.” Benedick now said, “Leonato, let the friar advise
you; and though you know well I love the prince and Claudio, yet, on my
honor, I will not reveal this secret to them.”
Leonato, thus persuaded, yielded; and he said sorrowfully, “I am so
grieved, that the smallest twine may lead me.” The kind friar then led
Leonato and Hero away to comfort and console them, and Beatrice and
Benedick remained alone; and this was the meeting from which their
friends, who had contrived the merry plot against them, expected so
much diversion; these friends who were now overwhelmed with affliction,
and from whose minds all thought of merriment seemed forever banished.
Benedick was the first who spoke, and he said, “Lady Beatrice, have
you wept all this while?” “Yes, and I will weep a while longer,” said
Beatrice. “Surely,” said Benedick, “I do believe your fair cousin is
wronged.” “Ah!” said Beatrice, “how much might that man deserve of me
who would right her!” Benedick then said, “Is there any way to show
such friendship? I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not
that strange?” “It were as possible,” said Beatrice, “for me to say
I loved nothing in the world so well as you; but believe me not, and
yet I lie not. I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for
my cousin.” “By my sword,” said Benedick, “you love me, and I protest
I love you. Come, bid me do anything for you.” “Kill Claudio,” said
Beatrice. “Ha! not for the wide world,” said Benedick; for he loved
his friend Claudio, and he believed he had been imposed upon. “Is not
Claudio a villain, that has slandered, scorned, and dishonored my
cousin?” said Beatrice; “O that I were a man!” “Hear me, Beatrice!”
said Benedick. But Beatrice would hear nothing in Claudio’s defense;
and she continued to urge on Benedick to revenge her cousin’s wrongs;
and she said, “Talk with a man out of the window; a proper saying!
Sweet Hero! she is wronged; she is slandered; she is undone. O that I
were a man for Claudio’s sake; or that I had any friend who would be a
man for my sake; but valor is melted into courtesies and compliments.
I can not be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with
grieving.” “Tarry, good Beatrice,” said Benedick; “by this hand I love
you.” “Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it,” said
Beatrice. “Think you on your soul that Claudio has wronged Hero?” asked
Benedick. “Yea,” answered Beatrice, “as sure as I have a thought, or a
soul.” “Enough,” said Benedick, “I am engaged; I will challenge him.
I will kiss your hand, and so leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall
render me a dear account. As you hear from me, so think of me. Go,
comfort your cousin.”
While Beatrice was thus powerfully pleading with Benedick, and working
his gallant temper by the spirit of her angry words, to engage in the
cause of Hero, and fight even with his dear friend Claudio, Leonato
was challenging the prince and Claudio to answer with their swords the
injury they had done his child, who, he affirmed, had died for grief.
But they respected his age and his sorrow, and they said, “Nay, do not
quarrel with us, good old man.” And now came Benedick, and he also
challenged Claudio to answer with his sword the injury he had done to
Hero; and Claudio and the prince said to each other, “Beatrice has
set him on to do this.” Claudio nevertheless must have accepted this
challenge of Benedick, had not the justice of Heaven at the moment
brought to pass a better proof of the innocence of Hero than the
uncertain fortune of a duel.
While the prince and Claudio were yet talking of the challenge of
Benedick, a magistrate brought Borachio as a prisoner before the
prince. Borachio had been overheard talking with one of his companions
of the mischief he had been employed by Don John to do. Borachio made
a full confession to the prince in Claudio’s hearing, that it was
Margaret dressed in her lady’s clothes that he had talked with from the
window, whom they had mistaken for the lady Hero herself; and no doubt
continued on the minds of Claudio and the prince of the innocence of
Hero. If a suspicion remained it must have been removed by the flight
of Don John, who finding his villanies were detected, fled from Messina
to avoid the just anger of his brother.
The heart of Claudio was sorely grieved, when he found he had falsely
accused Hero, who, he thought, had died upon hearing his cruel words;
and the memory of his beloved Hero’s image came over him, in the rare
semblance that he loved it first; and the prince asking him if what
he heard did not run like iron through his soul, he answered, that
he felt as if he had taken poison while Borachio was speaking. And
the repentant Claudio implored forgiveness of the old man Leonato
for the injury he had done his child; and promised, that whatever
penance Leonato would lay upon him for his fault in believing the
false accusation against his betrothed wife, for her dear sake he
would endure it. The penance Leonato enjoined him was, to marry the
next morning a cousin of Hero’s, who, he said, was now his heir, and
in person very like Hero. Claudio, regarding the solemn promise he had
made to Leonato, said he would marry this unknown lady, even though she
was an Ethiop: but his heart was very sorrowful, and he passed that
night in tears, and in remorseful grief, at the tomb which Leonato had
erected for Hero.
When the morning came, the prince accompanied Claudio to the church,
where the good friar, and Leonato and his niece, were already
assembled, to celebrate a second nuptial; and Leonato presented to
Claudio his promised bride; and she wore a mask, that Claudio might not
discover her face. And Claudio said to the lady in the mask, “Give me
your hand, before this holy friar; I am your husband, if you will marry
me.” “And when I lived, I was your other wife,” said this unknown lady;
and taking off her mask, she proved to be no niece (as was pretended),
but Leonato’s very daughter, the lady Hero herself. We may be sure that
this proved a most agreeable surprise to Claudio, who thought her dead,
so that he could scarcely for joy believe his eyes: and the prince,
who was equally amazed at what he saw, exclaimed, “Is not this Hero,
Hero that was dead?” Leonato replied, “She died, my lord, but while her
slander lived.” The friar promised them an explanation of this seeming
miracle, after the ceremony was ended; and was proceeding to marry them
when he was interrupted by Benedick, who desired to be married at the
same time to Beatrice. Beatrice making some demur to this match, and
Benedick challenging her with her love for him, which he had learned
from Hero, a pleasant explanation took place; and they found they had
been both tricked into a belief of love, which had never existed,
and had become lovers in truth by the power of a false jest: but the
affection, which a merry invention had cheated them into, was grown
too powerful to be shaken by a serious explanation; and since Benedick
proposed to marry, he was resolved to think nothing to the purpose
that the world could say against it; and he merrily kept up the jest,
and swore to Beatrice, that he took her but for pity, and because he
heard she was dying of love for him; and Beatrice protested, that she
yielded but upon great persuasion, and partly to save his life, for she
heard he was in a consumption. So these two mad wits were reconciled,
and made a match of it, after Claudio and Hero were married; and to
complete the history, Don John, the contriver of the villany, was taken
in his flight, and brought back to Messina; and a brave punishment it
was to this gloomy, discontented man, to see the joy and feastings
which, by the disappointment of his plots, took place at the palace in
Messina.