Want to know how to deal with the narcissist in your life? Worried that you’re one? Shakespeare can help.

Narcissists lurk around every Shakespearean corner—whether in tragedy (from Cleopatra to Coriolanus), comedy (from Orlando to Prospero), or history (think Richards II and III). Virtually every play has characters who exhibit some of the “warning signs” of narcissism that psychologist Craig Malkin has identified—emotional phobia, emotional hot potato, exercising covert control, putting people on pedestals, and pretending to find a “twin.”

For now, I’ll just consider one of those warning signs—emotional phobia—and one play: Much Ado About Nothing.

Malkin writes that “unhealthy narcissism is in large part an attempt to hide normal human vulnerability, especially painful feelings of insecurity, sadness, fear, loneliness, and shame” (118). Avoiding emotions doesn’t have to be narcissistic, of course. But it can be if you avoid it in order to feel special. If you don’t feel sad (or convince yourself you don’t), for example, you can say you’re not like the rest of us. If you don’t feel insecure, you’re superior. If you don’t love… you’re probably unique—self-sufficient, free from the vulnerability that comes with being dependent on someone else.

Passionphobia in Much Ado

At least two characters in Much Ado exhibit what Malkin calls “passionphobia”—Beatrice and Benedick. Although they clearly excite each other, they spend most of the play hiding their feelings, insulting each other ad nauseam, and boasting about their inability to love.

Benedict in particular is an enlightening case study. Early on, he declares that everyone else feels what he doesn’t—that despite “all the ladies loving me” (except, of course, Beatrice), “I really love no woman” (1.1. 120–121). He even speculates that if he is to love someone, that person must be perfect: “Until all graces are gathered into one woman,” he says to himself, “not one woman will come into my grace. She will be rich, that is certain; wise, or I would have none of them; virtuous, or I would never despise her; just, or I would never look at her; kind, or she would not come near me; noble, or I would not be an angel; well-spoken, an excellent musician, and her hair will be the color that pleases God.”

We’ve all met someone like this: I will never fall in love. I have very high standards and no one will ever live up to them. I will only love if the perfect person comes along. Until then—and even then—I won’t be hurt.

Tip #1: Reveal Your Feelings

In his advice to readers on how to deal with narcissists, Malkin writes that we have to be careful not to “put on our armor” and get defensive when narcissistic behavior bothers us (118–119). We also can’t just be enablers. Instead, we should focus on “expressing the importance of your relationship and revealing your own feelings” (120). You should tell the narcissist that you value him but that you want to see him change.

Much of Much Ado is about getting Benedick and Beatrice to open up in this way. At a dance where all the guests are wearing masks, for example, Beatrice takes a risk. When she and Benedick exchange conversations, each of them well aware of who the other is, she (as is her wont) insults him. But she also expresses her desire for him, albeit brusquely: “I wish he would come up with me,” she says of Benedick, pretending not to know she is saying it to him.

In her own way, Beatrice expresses the importance of their relationship. She reveals her feelings. When Benedick tells Don Pedro about her insults, he himself admits for the first time his own weakness. “She speaks rudely,” he complains, “and every word stabs” (2.1.234-5). Benedick clearly has a long way to go. But at least he admits that he has feelings.

Tip #2: Empathy Incentives

Malkin argues that most narcissists can change. In fact, he points to more than a dozen studies showing how narcissists respond when we encourage them to be more empathetic.[2] Don Pedro, Claudio, and others offer Benedick this kind of encouragement when they orchestrate one of the play’s most famous scenes: when they arrange for Benedick to listen to them talk about Beatrice and how much she loves him.

Throughout the story, Don Pedro and Claudio draw attention to Beatrice’s emotional pain, hoping to elicit Benedick’s sympathy.

First, they treat Benedick with a song about women’s fears about male fidelity. (We learn that adultery is one of Benedick’s own fears.) Then they discuss how she won’t tell Benedick that she loves him and how her refusal to be vulnerable only adds to her torment. “She says she’ll die if he doesn’t love her, and she’ll die before she can tell her love,” Claudio says (2.3.168–170). Finally, when Pedro asks her why she won’t tell him, Claudio says it’s because Benedick will just laugh at her.

All of these are what psychologists like Malkin call “empathic prompts,” attempts to help a person share another person’s feelings. Here, the prompts work: Benedick, having overheard the conversation, takes the criticism, along with Beatrice’s pain, to heart, and declares that he “would be terribly in love with her.”

The narcissistic shield falls. Benedick becomes more vulnerable, caring, and sympathetic, and Shakespeare seems to see what most people have not until recently: that the old adage, “Once a narcissist, forever a narcissist,” is not entirely true.

Not all narcissists can change. But some can—if you encourage them.

ShouldWeFoolNarcissists?

I have not mentioned a fact about the scene I just discussed: Don Pedro and Claudio lie to Benedick. They have not heard Beatrice say what they claim to have. What can we make of that?

Gossiping is bad enough. Inventing rumors, as Don Pedro and Claudio do, is worse and more manipulative. Does Shakespeare expect his audience to accept this? And is it a good idea to fool narcissists?

I hope not. And I think it is reasonable to think otherwise. This is not a real case but a play, and these are characters, not people, however similar they may be. Shakespeare does not give us a specific work to emulate, but rather an unforgettable scene of psychological insight. He shows us how powerful empathic urges can be, even when they are artificial, and shows us how “to love at all means to be in danger,” as C.S. Lewis would say centuries later.