The Shakespeare Story-Book. Уильям Шекспир

kill her with his own hands.

      “Sir, sir, be patient!” pleaded Benedick. “For my part, I am so attired in wonder I do not know what to say.”

      “Upon my soul, my cousin is belied!” exclaimed Beatrice.

      Then the Friar stepped forward, and declared his absolute belief in Hero’s innocence, and his words were so clear and convincing that even Leonato began to think his daughter must be wrongfully accused. The mystery was puzzling, for, as Benedick remarked, the Prince and Claudio were the soul of honour, and were only too terribly convinced themselves of the truth of what they had said. If they had been misled in any way, it must be the work of Don John, who delighted in planning deeds of villainy.

      By the good Friar’s advice, it was agreed that for the present Hero should stay secretly in retirement, so that the outside world should imagine she was really dead. Slander would then be changed to remorse, and she would be lamented, excused, and pitied by everyone. For it generally falls out that we do not prize to its full worth what we have; but when it is lacked and lost, then we appreciate its value. So it would fare with Claudio. When he should hear that Hero had died at his words, the sweet remembrance of her lovely life would creep into his soul; then he would mourn and wish he had not so accused her.

      “Signor Leonato, let the Friar advise you,” said Benedick. “And though you know my loyalty and love to the Prince and Claudio, yet by mine honour I will deal as secretly and justly in this matter as your soul would with your body.”

      So it was agreed, and then the good Friar and Leonato took away Hero to put their plan into execution.

      Left alone with Benedick, Beatrice’s rage and indignation found full vent. She was justly furious at the indignity that had been put on her gentle cousin, and though for a moment Benedick won her to a lighter mood by confessing his love for her, yet she speedily returned to the subject of which her heart was full.

      “Oh that I were a man!” she cried, her one desire being to revenge Hero, and punish the dastards who had wrought such an insult on her. If Benedick really loved her, she declared, he would take this office on himself and kill Claudio.

      “Kill Claudio!”

      Benedick hesitated. No, he could not do that. Claudio was his friend… But he loved Beatrice; her generous, whole-hearted sympathy for her cousin could not but prevail with one of Benedick’s chivalrous nature.

      “Think you in your soul that Count Claudio has wronged Hero?” he asked solemnly.

      “Yes, as surely as I have a thought or a soul,” said Beatrice, with noble pride.

      “Enough; I am engaged. I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. Go, comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead. And so, farewell.”

      Benedick, the scoffer, the jester, the light-hearted wit of the Prince’s Court, showed in this moment that he was also a high-souled chivalrous gentleman, fitting mate for the brave and noble-spirited Beatrice.

      In accordance with his promise, Benedick went to seek Claudio. He presently found him with Don Pedro. The two gentlemen had just had a painful interview with Leonato, who had indignantly reproached them for their behaviour. They felt anything but happy, although they persisted in thinking that they were quite justified in acting as they had done. However, at the sight of Benedick their spirits rallied, and they tried to assume their usual teasing vein of raillery. But Benedick was in no jesting humour. With cold self-possession he delivered his challenge to Claudio, and then he took a dignified leave of the Prince of Arragon.

      “My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you,” he said. “I must discontinue your company. Your brother Don John is fled from Messina; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him.”

      “He is in earnest,” said the Prince, as Benedick withdrew.

      “In most profound earnest,” said Claudio; “and, I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.”

      “And has challenged you.”

      “Most sincerely.”

      “What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!” said Don Pedro disdainfully.

      But the self-satisfaction of the Prince and Claudio were soon to receive a severe shock. The watchmen now approached, bringing with them their capture of the night before, the culprits Borachio and Conrade, and the whole miserable tale of treachery was duly unfolded. Leonato was sent for in haste.

      “Are you the slave that with your slander slew my innocent child?” he asked of Borachio.

      “Yes, even I alone.”

      “No, not so, villain; you belie yourself,” said Leonato. “Here stand a pair of honourable men; a third is fled that had a hand in it. I thank you, Princes, for my daughter’s death: it was bravely done, if you bethink you of it.”

      Claudio was overwhelmed with remorse; he dared not ask pardon of the deeply-wronged Leonato, but he besought him to chose his own revenge, and to impose on him any penance he choose to invent. Don Pedro also joined him in expressing his deep penitence.

      “I cannot bid you bid my daughter live,” replied Leonato, “but I pray you both proclaim to all the people in Messina how innocent she died. Hang an epitaph upon her tomb, and sing it there to-night. To-morrow morning come to my house, and since you cannot be my son-in-law, be my nephew. My brother has a daughter almost the copy of my child that’s dead. Marry her, as you would have married her cousin, and so dies my revenge.”

      Claudio willingly agreed to carry out this suggestion, and that night he went to the church with a solemn company, and read aloud the following scroll:

      “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.”

      “Hang thou there upon the tomb, praising her when I am dumb,” he added, placing the scroll on the family monument of Leonato.

      The following morning a large company again assembled in Leonato’s house, for another wedding was to take place. This time all the ladies were veiled, and it was not until the words were spoken in which Claudio took an unknown maiden to be his wife that the bride threw back her veil and revealed the well-loved face of Hero.

      Benedick had already announced to the Friar that he intended to marry the lady Beatrice, and Leonato had given his willing approval. Benedick therefore approached the group of still masked figures to find his own lady, and called Beatrice by name.

      “What is your will?” she inquired, taking off her mask.

      “Do not you love me?” asked Benedick.

      “Why, no – no more than reason,” said Beatrice provokingly.

      “Why, then, your uncle and the Prince and Claudio have been deceived; they swore you did.”

      Beatrice laughed.

      “Do not you love me?” she asked in her turn.

      “Troth, no; no more than reason,” said Benedick loftily.

      “Why, then, my cousin, Margaret and Ursula are much deceived, for they swore you did.”

      “They swore you were almost ill for me,” declared Benedick.

      “They swore that you were wellnigh dead for me,” retorted Beatrice.

      “’Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?”

      “No, truly, but in friendly recompense,” said Beatrice, with airy indifference.

      “Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman,” said Leonato.

      “And I’ll be sworn that he loves her,”