Then the Friar stepped forward, and declared his absolute belief in Hero’s innocence, and his words were so clear and convincing that even Leonato began to think his daughter must be wrongfully accused. The mystery was puzzling, for, as Benedick remarked, the Prince and Claudio were the soul of honour, and were only too terribly convinced themselves of the truth of what they had said. If they had been misled in any way, it must be the work of Don John, who delighted in planning deeds of villainy. By the good Friar’s advice, it was agreed that for the present Hero should stay secretly in retirement, so that the outside world should imagine she was really dead. Slander would then be changed to remorse, and she would be lamented, excused, and pitied by everyone. For it generally falls out that we do not prize to its full worth what we have; but when it is lacked and lost, then we appreciate its value. So it would fare with Claudio. When he should hear that Hero had died at his words, the sweet remembrance of her lovely life would creep into his soul; then he would mourn and wish he had not so accused her. “Signor Leonato, let the Friar advise you,” said Benedick. “And though you know my loyalty and love to the Prince and Claudio, yet by mine honour I will deal as secretly and justly in this matter as your soul would with your body.” So it was agreed, and then the good Friar and Leonato took away Hero to put their plan into execution. Left alone with Benedick, Beatrice’s rage and indignation found full vent. She was justly furious at the indignity that had been put on her gentle cousin, and though for a moment Benedick won her to a lighter mood by confessing his love for her, yet she speedily returned to the subject of which her heart was full. “Oh that I were a man!” she cried, her one desire being to revenge Hero, and punish the dastards who had wrought such an insult on her. If Benedick really loved her, she declared, he would take this office on himself and kill Claudio. “Kill Claudio!” Benedick hesitated. No, he could not do that. Claudio was his friend.... But he loved Beatrice; her generous, whole-hearted sympathy for her cousin could not but prevail with one of Benedick’s chivalrous nature. “Think you in your soul that Count Claudio has wronged Hero?” he asked solemnly. “Yes, as surely as I have a thought or a soul,” said Beatrice, with noble pride. “Enough; I am engaged. I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. Go, comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead. And so, farewell.” Benedick, the scoffer, the jester, the light-hearted wit of the Prince’s Court, showed in this moment that he was also a high-souled chivalrous gentleman, fitting mate for the brave and noble-spirited Beatrice.