from them is truly rooted in them, and is generated vitally out of the nature within them; so that their deeds are the veritable pulsations of their hearts.  And so it is in this play.  The course of action, as we have seen, was partly borrowed.  But there was no borrowing in the characteristic matter.  The personal figures in the old tale are in themselves unmeaning and characterless.  The actions ascribed to them have no ground or reason in any thing that they are:  what they do, or rather seem to do,—­for there is no real doing in the case,—­proceeds not at all from their own natures or wills, but purely because the author chose to have it so.  So that the persons and incidents are to all intents and purposes put together arbitrarily, and not under any vital law of human nature.  Any other set of actions might just as well be tacked on to the same persons; any other persons might just as well be put through the same course of action.  This merely outward and formal connection between the incidents and characters holds generally in the old tales from which Shakespeare borrowed his plots; while in his workmanship the connection becomes inherent and essential; there being indeed no difference in this respect, whether he first conceives the characters, and then draws out their actions, or whether he first plans a course of action, and then shapes the character from which it is to proceed.

* * * * *

Much Ado about Nothing has a large variety of interest, now running into grotesque drollery, now bordering upon the sphere of tragic elevation, now revelling in the most sparkling brilliancy.  The play indeed is rightly named:  we have several nothings, each in its turn occasioning a deal of stir and perturbation:  yet there is so much of real flavour and spirit stirred out into effect, that the littleness of the occasions is scarcely felt or observed; the thoughts being far more drawn to the persons who make the much ado than to the nothing about which the much ado is made.  The excellences, however, both of plot and character, are rather of the striking sort, involving little of the hidden or retiring beauty which shows just enough on the surface to invite a diligent search, and then enriches the seeker with generous returns.  Accordingly the play has always been very effective on the stage; the points and situations being so shaped and ordered that, with fair acting, they tell at once upon an average audience; while at the same time there is enough of solid substance beneath to justify and support the first impression; so that the stage-effect is withal legitimate and sound as well as quick and taking.

The characters of Hero and Claudio, though reasonably engaging in their simplicity and uprightness, offer no very salient points, and are indeed nowise extraordinary.  It cannot quite be said that one “sees no more in them than in the ordinary of Nature’s sale-work”; nevertheless they derive their interest mainly from the events that befall them; the reverse of which is generally true in Shakespeare’s delineations.  Perhaps we may justly say that, had the course of love run smooth with them, its voice, even if audible, had been hardly worth the hearing.