Tales from Shakespeare. Charles Lamb

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 be 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 counseled Leonato that he should report that Hero was dead; and he said that the deathlike 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 1 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 be 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 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 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 forever banished.

      Benedick was the first who spoke, and he said, “Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?”

      “Yea, and I will weep awhile 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 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. “Oh, 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. Oh, 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 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; CC 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, be 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 be also challenged Claudio to answer with his sword the injury be 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 bearing 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 had remained it must have been removed by the flight of Don John, who, finding his villainies were detected, fled from Messina to avoid the just anger of his brother.

      The heart of Claudio was sorely grieved when he found he bad falsely accused Hero, who, he thought, died upon bearing 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 made to Leonato, said he would marry this unknown lady, even though she were 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