Leon Garfield's Shakespeare Stories by Leon Garfield

Author:Leon Garfield
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-59017-995-6
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2015-10-19T16:00:00+00:00

Much Ado About Nothing

Signior Benedick of Padua was a man’s man, and he cared not who knew it! While his master, Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, had perfumed and barbered himself like a smirking bridegroom for his visit to old Leonato, the Governor of Messina, and all the Prince’s officers were polished like brass candlesticks, he, Benedick, had scorned to change his soldier’s attire, and he wore a beard as fierce as a bush.

They were in Leonato’s clipped and trellised garden which seemed, to his soldier’s eye, absolutely infested with all the taffeta ladies of Messina, flouncing and fluttering their fans like monstrous butterflies. Most heartily he wished himself back on the battlefield. However, he was gentleman enough not to say so, and to stifle his yawns as Don Pedro and Leonato exchanged interminable compliments.

“I think this is your daughter,” said Don Pedro, bowing to a simpering miss by name of Hero, who peeped out from under her cap like a mouse in an attic.

“Her mother hath many times told me so,” said Leonato with a little laugh, and laid a fond arm about his daughter’s shoulders.

This was too much! “Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?” said Benedick, who could not endure affectation. At once, he was taken to task by Don Pedro. He defended himself vigorously; when a sharp, cold voice interrupted:

“I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick, nobody marks you.”

It was, of course, Beatrice, Leonato’s niece, who’d spoken. He’d seen her from the first, in her daffodil gown, spying him out with her cat’s eyes, and, as usual, biding her time to pounce. He’d hoped that, for once, she’d hold her tongue; but no!

“What, my dear Lady Disdain,” said he, as if surprised that a person of such insignificance should address him, “are you yet living?”

She flew at him like a fury, with insults that a fish-wife might have shrunk from. He parried as best he could, and delivered some sharp thrusts of his own, which, he was pleased to see, brought fire into the lady’s cheeks and smiles to the faces of the eager audience. Nonetheless, he was not sorry when Leonato laughingly interposed to invite the company into his mansion.

Two remained behind: Benedick, who needed time to compose himself after his brisk encounter with that harpy, Beatrice, and his friend young Claudio the Florentine, who had been making-sheep’s eyes at the Governor’s meek daughter.

“In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on!” sighed Claudio.

Benedick shrugged his shoulders. “I can see yet without spectacles,” said he, “and I see no such matter. There’s her cousin, and she were not possessed of a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.” This was true. Though he disliked her heartily, he had to admit that Beatrice was indeed beautiful. He looked at Claudio sharply. “But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you?”

Alas! that was Claudio’s intention. Benedick threw up his hands in disgust.

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