But, after all the allowance that can be made on this score, it is still no little impeachment of his temper, or his understanding, that he should lend his ear to the poisonous breathings of one whose spirits are so well known to “toil in frame of villainies.”  As to his rash and overwrought scheme of revenge for Hero’s imputed sin, his best excuse therein is, that the light-minded Prince, who is indeed such another, goes along with him; while it is somewhat doubtful whether the patron or the favourite is more at fault in thus suffering artful malice to “pull the wool over his eyes.”  Claudio’s finical and foppish attention to dress, so amusingly ridiculed by Benedick, is a well-conceived trait of his character; as it naturally hints that his quest of the lady grows more from his seeing the advantage of the match than from any deep heart-interest in her person.  And his being sprung into such an unreasonable fit of jealousy towards the Prince at the masquerade is another good instance of the Poet’s skill and care in small matters.  It makes an apt preparation for the far more serious blunder upon which the main part of the action turns.  A piece of conduct which the circumstances do not explain is at once explained by thus disclosing a certain irritable levity in the subject.  On much the same ground we can also account very well for his sudden running into a match which at the best looks more like a freak of fancy than a resolution of love, while the same suddenness on the side of the more calm, discreet, and patient Hero is accounted for by the strong solicitation of the Prince and the prompt concurrence of her father.  But even if Claudio’s faults and blunders were greater than they are, still his behaviour at the last were enough to prove a real and sound basis of manhood in him.  The clean taking-down of his vanity and self-love, by the exposure of the poor cheats which had so easily caught him, brings out the true staple of his character.  When he is made to feel that on himself alone falls the blame and the guilt which he had been so eager to revenge on others, then his sense of honour acts in a right noble style, prompting him to avenge sternly on himself the wrong and the injury he has done to the gentle Hero and her kindred.

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Critics have unnecessarily found fault with the Poet for the character of John, as if it lay without the proper circumference of truth and nature.  They would prefer, apparently, the more commonplace character of a disappointed rival in love, whose guilt might be explained away into a pressure of violent motives.  But Shakespeare saw deeper into human nature.  And perhaps his wisest departure from the old story is in making John a morose, sullen, ill-conditioned rascal, whose innate malice renders the joy of others a pain, and the pain of others a joy, to him.  The wanton and unprovoked doing of mischief is the natural luxury and pastime of such envious spirits