lapwing runs close by the ground, to hear our
conference.' They then began; Hero saying, as if in answer to something
which Ursula had said: 'No, truly, Ursula. She is too disdainful; her
spirits are as coy as wild birds of the rock.' 'But are you sure,' said
Ursula, 'that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?' Hero replied: 'So
says the prince, and my lord Claudio, and they entreated me to acquaint
her with it; but I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, never to let
Beatrice know of it.' 'Certainly,' replied Ursula, 'it were not good
she knew his love, lest she made sport of it.' 'Why, to say truth,'
said Hero, 'I never yet saw a man, how wise soever, or noble, young, or
rarely featured, but she would dispraise him.' 'Sure, sure, such
carping is not commendable,' said Ursula. 'No,' replied Hero, 'but who
dare tell her so? If I should speak, she would mock me into air.' 'O!
you wrong your cousin,' said Ursula: 'she cannot be so much without
true judgment, as to refuse so rare a gentleman as signior Benedick.'
'He hath an excellent good name,' said Hero: 'indeed, he is the first
man in Italy, always excepting my dear Claudio.' And now, Hero giving
her attendant a hint that it was time to change the discourse, Ursula
said: 'And when are you to be married, madam?' Hero then told her, that
she was to be married to Claudio the next day, and desired she would go
in with her, and look at some new attire, as she wished to consult with
her on what she would wear on the morrow. Beatrice, who had been
listening with breathless eagerness to this dialogue, when they went
away, exclaimed: 'What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Farewell, contempt and scorn, and maiden pride, adieu! Benedick, love
on! I will requite you, taming my wild heart to your loving hand.'

It must have been a pleasant sight to see these old enemies converted
into new and loving friends, and to behold their first meeting after
being cheated into mutual liking by the merry artifice of the
good-humoured prince. But a sad reverse in the fortunes of Hero must
now be thought of. The morrow, which was to have been her wedding-day,
brought sorrow on the heart of Hero and her good father Leonato.

The prince had a half-brother, who came from the wars along with him to
Messina. This brother (his name was Don John) was a melancholy,
discontented man, whose spirits seemed to labour in the contriving of
villanies. He hated the prince his brother, and he hated Clau