The whole incident is treated
lightly as something of small import; the bitterness in "Much Ado" has
died out: "Twelfth Night" was written about 1601, a year or so later
than "Much Ado."
I do not want to labour the conclusion I have reached; but it must be
admitted that I have found in the plays, and especially in "The Two
Gentlemen of Verona" and "Much Ado," the same story which is told in the
sonnets; a story lugged into the plays, where, indeed, its introduction
is a grave fault in art and its treatment too peculiar to be anything
but personal. Here in the plays we have, so to speak, three views of the
sonnet-story; the first in "The Two Gentlemen of Verona," when the
betrayal is fresh in Shakespeare's memory and his words are embittered
with angry feeling:
"Thou common friend that's without faith or love."
The second view is taken in "Much Ado About Nothing" when the pain of
the betrayal has been a little salved by time. Shakespeare now moralizes
the occurrence. He shows us how it would be looked upon by a philosopher
(for that is what the lover, Claudio, is in regard to his betrayal) and
by a soldier and man of the world, Benedick, and by a Prince.
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