Tales from Shakespeare. Charles Lamb
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 will I 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 dishonoured, that have gone about to link my dear friend to an unworthy woman. Leonato, upon my honour, 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 sunk 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 their 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 had 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 counselled 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 that 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 how well I love the prince and Claudio, yet on my honour 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 contrived the merry plot against them, expected so much diversion; those friends who were now overwhelmed with affliction, and from whose minds all thoughts of merriment seemed for ever banished.
Benedick was the first who spoke, and he said: ‘Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?’ ‘Yea, 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 dishonoured my cousin?’ said Beatrice: ‘O that I were a man!’ ‘Hear me, Beatrice!’ said Benedick. But Beatrice would hear nothing in Claudio’s defence; 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 velour is melted into courtesies and compliments. I cannot 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 tints 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