Tales from Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb (epub ebook reader .TXT) 📖

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 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 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 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 had remained it must have been removed by the flight of Don John, who, funding 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, 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 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 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 both been 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 m 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 in the palace in Messina.

AS YOU LIKE IT

During the time that France was divided into provinces (or dukedoms as they were called) there reigned in one of these provinces an usurper, who had deposed and banished his elder brother, the lawful duke.

The duke, who was thus driven from his dominions, retired with a few faithful followers to the forest of Arden; and here the good duke lived with his loving friends, who had put themselves into a voluntary exile for his sake, while their land and revenues enriched the false usurper; and custom soon made the life of careless ease they led here more sweet to them than the pomp and uneasy splendour of a courtier’s life.

Here they lived like the old Robin Hood of England, and to this forest many noble youths daily resorted from the court, and did fleet the time carelessly, as they did who lived in the golden age. In the summer they lay along under the fine shade of the large forest trees, marking the playful sports of the wild deer; and so fond were they of these poor dappled fools, who seemed to be the native inhabitants of the forest, that it grieved them to be forced to kill them to supply themselves with venison for their food. When the cold winds of winter made the duke feel the change of his adverse fortune, he would endure it patiently, and say: ‘These chilling winds which blow upon my body are true counsellors; they do not flatter, but represent truly to me my condition; and though they bite sharply, their tooth is nothing like so keen as that of unkindness and ingratitude. I find that howsoever men speak against adversity, yet some sweet uses are to be extracted from it; like the jewel,