Boy!
Boy!
Boy!
boy!
Signior?
Signior?
Signior?
signior?
In my chamber window lies a book; bring it hither to me in the orchard.
In my chamber window lies a book; bring it here to me in the orchard.
In my chamber window lies a book; bring it here to me in the orchard.
in my chamber window lies a book bring it here to me in the orchard
I am here already, sir.
I am here already, sir.
I'm here already, sir.
i'm here already, sir.
I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again.
I know that; but I would have you hence, and here again.
I know that; but I would have you hence, and here again.
i know that; but i would have you hence, and here again.
The 'gulling scene' — where a character is tricked into believing something through staged performance — is one of Shakespeare's favorite theatrical tricks. What makes this one so brilliant is that it works on the audience at multiple levels simultaneously. We watch three men perform a trick on Benedick. We watch Benedick be tricked. And we find ourselves half-hoping he believes it — not because the trick is good, but because the conclusion it leads him to is correct. Beatrice does love him. He does love her. The trick is false; the result is true. This is the ethical complexity Shakespeare loves to embed in comedy: the end is good, the means are manipulation, and we are complicit.
Come, shall we hear this music?
Come, shall we hear this music?
Come, shall we hear this music?
come, shall we hear this music?
Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is,
As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony!
Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony!
Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony!
yea my good lord how still the evening is as hush’d on purpose to grace harmony
See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
See you where Benedick has hid himself?
See you where Benedick has hid himself?
see you where benedick has hid himself?
O! very well, my lord: the music ended,
We’ll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.
O! very well, my lord: the music ended, We’ll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.
O! very well, my lord: the music ended, We’ll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.
o very well my lord: the music ended we’ll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth
Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.
Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.
Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.
come, balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.
O! good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.
O! good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander music any more than once.
O! good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander music any more than once.
o good my lord tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once
It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection.
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.
It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection. I pray you, sing, and let me woo no more.
It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection. I pray you, sing, and let me woo no more.
it is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection i pray you sing and let me woo no more
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy; yet he wooes;
Yet will he swear he loves.
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; Since many a wooer does commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy; yet he wooes; Yet will he swear he loves.
Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; Since many a wooer does commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy; yet he wooes; Yet will he swear he loves.
because you talk of wooing i will sing since many a wooer does commence his suit to her he thinks not worthy yet he wooes yet will he swear he loves
Nay, pray thee come;
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.
no, pray you come; Or if you wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes.
no, pray you come; Or if you wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes.
no pray you come or if you wilt hold longer argument do it in notes
Note this before my notes;
There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting.
Note this before my notes; There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting.
Note this before my notes; There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting.
note this before my notes there’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting
Why these are very crotchets that he speaks;
Notes, notes, forsooth, and nothing!
Why these are very crotchets that he speaks; Notes, notes, indeed, and nothing!
Why these are very crotchets that he speaks; Notes, notes, indeed, and nothing!
why these are very crotchets that he speaks notes notes indeed and nothing
Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange
that sheep’s guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies? Well,
a horn for my money, when all’s done.
BALTHASAR [sings.]
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange that sheep’s guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all’s done. BALTHASAR [sings.] Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny. Sing no more ditties, sing no mo Of dumps so dull and heavy; The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leavy. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange that sheep’s guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all’s done. BALTHASAR [sings.] Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny. Sing no more ditties, sing no mo Of dumps so dull and heavy; The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leavy. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
now divine air now is his soul ravished is it not strange that sheep’s guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies well
By my troth, a good song.
By my troth, a good song.
By my troth, a good song.
by my troth, a good song.
And an ill singer, my lord.
And an ill singer, my lord.
And an ill singer, my lord.
and an ill singer, my lord.
Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift.
Ha, no, no, faith; you singest well enough for a shift.
Ha, no, no, faith; you singest well enough for a shift.
ha, no, no, faith; you singest well enough for a shift.
thus, they would have hanged him; and I pray God his bad voice bode no
mischief. I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could
have come after it.
DON PEDRO. Yea, marry; dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee, get us
some excellent music, for tomorrow night we would have it at the
Lady Hero’s chamber window.
thus, they would have hanged him; and I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. DON PEDRO. Yea, indeed; do you hear, Balthasar? I pray you, get us some excellent music, for tomorrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber window.
thus, they would have hanged him; and I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. DON PEDRO. Yea, indeed; do you hear, Balthasar? I pray you, get us some excellent music, for tomorrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber window.
thus they would have hanged him and i pray god his bad voice bode no mischief i had as lief have heard the night-raven come what plague could have come after it
The best I can, my lord.
The best I can, my lord.
The best I can, my lord.
the best i can, my lord.
Do so: farewell.
Do so: farewell.
Do so: farewell.
do so: farewell.
O! ay:—[Aside to Don Pedro] Stalk on, stalk on;
the fowl sits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man.
O! ay:—[Aside to Don Pedro] Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man.
O! ay:—[Aside to Don Pedro] Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man.
o ay:—[aside to don pedro] stalk on stalk on the fowl sits i did never think that lady would have loved any man
No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so
dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours
seemed ever to abhor.
No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she has in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor.
No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she has in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor.
no nor i neither but most wonderful that she should so dote on signior benedick whom she has in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor
By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it but that
she loves him with an enraged affection: it is past the infinite of
thought.
By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it but that she loves him with an enraged affection: it is past the infinite of thought.
By my troth, my lord, I can't tell what to think of it but that she loves him with an enraged affection: it is past the infinite of thought.
by my troth my lord i can't tell what to think of it but that she loves him with an enraged affection: it is past the infinite of thought
Maybe she doth but counterfeit.
Maybe she does but counterfeit.
Maybe she does but counterfeit.
maybe she does but counterfeit.
'Men were deceivers ever; / One foot in sea, and one on shore, / To one thing constant never.' This song, performed in the middle of the play's most celebrated comic scene, is not a joke. It is a statement of fact about the world this play inhabits. Claudio has just nearly been deceived by Don John into doubting Hero. Borachio is at this moment planning to make that deception real. Don John was lying at the masked ball. Benedick was 'playing Benedick' while denying it. The song is right: men are deceivers. It lives inside this cheerful scene like a warning nobody heeds. When Hero is publicly humiliated in Act 4, the song will feel retrospective — not foreshadowing but prophecy fulfilled.
Faith, like enough.
Faith, like enough.
Faith, like enough.
faith, like enough.
O God! counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion came
so near the life of passion as she discovers it.
O God! counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it.
O God! counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it.
o god counterfeit there was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it
Why, what effects of passion shows she?
Why, what effects of passion shows she?
Why, what effects of passion shows she?
why, what effects of passion shows she?
What effects, my lord? She will sit you; [To Claudio] You
heard my daughter tell you how.
What effects, my lord? She will sit you; [To Claudio] You heard my daughter tell you how.
What effects, my lord? She will sit you; [To Claudio] You heard my daughter tell you how.
what effects my lord she will sit you [to claudio] you heard my daughter tell you how
She did, indeed.
She did, indeed.
She did, indeed.
she did, indeed.
How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her
spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.
How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.
How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.
how how i pray you you amaze me: i would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection
I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.
I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.
I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.
i would have sworn it had my lord especially against benedick
white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide itself in such
reverence.
white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence.
white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery can't, sure, hide itself in such reverence.
white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery can't sure hide itself in such reverence
up.
up.
up.
up.
Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?
has she made her affection known to Benedick?
has she made her affection known to Benedick?
has she made her affection known to benedick?
No; and swears she never will: that’s her torment.
No; and swears she never will: that’s her torment.
No; and swears she never will: that’s her torment.
no; and swears she never will: that’s her torment.
’Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: ‘Shall I,’
says she, ‘that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him
that I love him?’
’Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: ‘Shall I,’ says she, ‘that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?’
’Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: ‘Shall I,’ says she, ‘that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?’
’tis true indeed so your daughter says: ‘shall i ’ says she ‘that have so oft encountered him with scorn
This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for she’ll
be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smock till she
have writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all.
This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for she’ll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all.
This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for she’ll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all.
this says she now when she is beginning to write to him for she’ll be up twenty times a night and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all
Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your
daughter told us of.
Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.
Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.
now you talk of a sheet of paper i remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of
O! when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found
Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?
O! when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?
O! when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?
o when she had writ it and was reading it over she found benedick and beatrice between the sheet
That.
That.
That.
that.
O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at
herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew
would flout her: ‘I measure him,’ says she, ‘by my own
spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him,
I should.’
O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: ‘I measure him,’ says she, ‘by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.’
O! she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: ‘I measure him,’ says she, ‘by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.’
o she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence railed at herself that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: ‘i measure him ’ says she
Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart,
tears her hair, prays, curses; ‘O sweet Benedick! God give me
patience!’
Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; ‘O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!’
Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; ‘O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!’
then down upon her knees she falls weeps sobs beats her heart tears her hair
She doth indeed; my daughter says so; and the ecstasy hath so
much overborne her, that my daughter is sometimes afeard she will do a
desperate outrage to herself. It is very true.
She does indeed; my daughter says so; and the ecstasy has so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometimes afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true.
She does indeed; my daughter says so; and the ecstasy has so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometimes afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true.
she does indeed my daughter says so and the ecstasy has so much overborne her that my daughter is sometimes afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself it is very true
It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she
will not discover it.
It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.
It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she won't discover it.
it were good that benedick knew of it by some other if she won't discover it
To what end? he would make but a sport of it and torment the poor
lady worse.
To what end? he would make but a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse.
To what end? he would make but a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse.
to what end he would make but a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse
And he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an
excellent sweet lady, and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.
And he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an excellent sweet lady, and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.
And he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an excellent sweet lady, and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.
and he should it were an alms to hang him she’s an excellent sweet lady and out of all suspicion
And she is exceeding wise.
And she is exceeding wise.
And she is exceeding wise.
and she is exceeding wise.
In everything but in loving Benedick.
In everything but in loving Benedick.
In everything but in loving Benedick.
in everything but in loving benedick.
O! my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body,
we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for
her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.
O! my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood has the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.
O! my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood has the victory. I'm sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.
o my lord wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body we have ten proofs to one that blood has the victory i'm sorry for her
I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have daffed
all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of
it, and hear what he will say.
I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have daffed all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say.
I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have daffed all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say.
i would she had bestowed this dotage on me i would have daffed all other respects and made her half myself i pray you tell benedick of it and hear what he will say
Were it good, think you?
Were it good, think you?
Were it good, think you?
were it good, think you?
Benedick's soliloquy before the gulling includes his specification for the only woman he could ever love: rich, wise, virtuous, fair, mild, noble, an excellent musician, of good discourse, and 'her hair shall be of what colour it please God.' The list is deliberately impossible — Benedick knows no real woman exists who checks all boxes, which is his excuse for not marrying. But 'her hair shall be of what colour it please God' gives the game away: the last item is a deliberate capitulation to reality, a crack in the armor. He was already preparing to be convinced. By the time Beatrice arrives, he has found 'marks of love' in her face — which means he was already looking.
Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die if he
love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known, and she will
die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed
crossness.
Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die if he love her not, and she will die before she make her love known, and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.
Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die if he love her not, and she will die before she make her love known, and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.
hero thinks surely she will die for she says she will die if he love her not and she will die before she make her love known and she will die if he woo her rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness
She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, ’tis
very possible he’ll scorn it; for the man,—as you know all,—hath a
contemptible spirit.
She does well: if she should make tender of her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it; for the man,—as you know all,—has a contemptible spirit.
She does well: if she should make tender of her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it; for the man,—as you know all,—has a contemptible spirit.
she does well: if she should make tender of her love ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it for the man —as you know all —has a contemptible spirit
He is a very proper man.
He is a very proper man.
He is a very proper man.
he is a very proper man.
He hath indeed a good outward happiness.
He has indeed a good outward happiness.
He has indeed a good outward happiness.
he has indeed a good outward happiness.
’Fore God, and in my mind, very wise.
’Fore God, and in my mind, very wise.
’Fore God, and in my mind, very wise.
’fore god, and in my mind, very wise.
He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit.
He does indeed show some sparks that are like wit.
He does indeed show some sparks that are like wit.
he does indeed show some sparks that are like wit.
And I take him to be valiant.
And I take him to be valiant.
And I take him to be valiant.
and i take him to be valiant.
As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you
may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or
undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear.
As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear.
As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear.
as hector i assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise for either he avoids them with great discretion or undertakes them with a most christian-like fear
If he do fear God, a’ must necessarily keep peace: if he
break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.
If he do fear God, a’ must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.
If he do fear God, a’ must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.
if he do fear god a’ must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling
And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it
seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for
your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of her love?
And so will he do; for the man does fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of her love?
And so will he do; for the man does fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I'm sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of her love?
and so will he do for the man does fear god howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make well i'm sorry for your niece
Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel.
Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel.
Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel.
never tell him my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel
Nay, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first.
no, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first.
no, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first.
no, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first.
Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool
the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly
examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady.
Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady.
Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady.
well we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while i love benedick well and i could wish he would modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady
My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
my lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
trust my expectation.
trust my expectation.
trust my expectation.
trust my expectation.
that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be,
when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such
matter: that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a
dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.
that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter: that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.
that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter: that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner.
that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry the sport will be when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage and no such matter: that’s the scene that i would see which will be merely a dumb show
conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They
seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent. Love
me? why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will
bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too
that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never
think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their
detractions, and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair:
’tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous: ’tis so,
I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me: by my troth, it is no
addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be
horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants
of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage; but
doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he
cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper
bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No; the
world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think
I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s
a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me? why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to indeed: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair: ’tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous: ’tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me: by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage; but does not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No; the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me? why, it must be requited. I hear how I'm censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to indeed: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair: ’tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous: ’tis so, I can't reprove it; and wise, but for loving me: by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage; but doesn't the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he can't endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No; the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I didn't think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
conference was sadly borne they have the truth of this from hero they seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent love me why
Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.
Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.
Against my will I'm sent to bid you come in to dinner.
against my will i'm sent to bid you come in to dinner.
Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
fair beatrice, i thank you for your pains.
I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to
thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.
I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.
I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I wouldn't have come.
i took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful i wouldn't have come
You take pleasure then in the message?
You take pleasure then in the message?
You take pleasure then in the message?
you take pleasure then in the message?
Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point,
and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior: fare you well.
Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point, and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior: fare you well.
Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point, and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior: fare you well.
yea just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point and choke a daw withal you have no stomach signior: fare you well
Ha! ‘Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to
dinner,’ there’s a double meaning in that. ‘I took no
more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me,’ that’s
as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If
I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a
Jew. I will go get her picture.
Ha! ‘Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner,’ there’s a double meaning in that. ‘I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me,’ that’s as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture.
Ha! ‘Against my will I'm sent to bid you come in to dinner,’ there’s a double meaning in that. ‘I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me,’ that’s as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I don't take pity of her, I'm a villain; if I don't love her, I'm a Jew. I will go get her picture.
ha ‘against my will i'm sent to bid you come in to dinner ’ there’s a double meaning in that ‘i took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me ’ that’s as much as to say
The Reckoning
This is comedy at its most gleeful: the man who swore he would never be transformed by love is transformed in real time, before our eyes, by exactly the mechanism he mocked in others. What makes it more than a simple trick is what Shakespeare puts inside Benedick's head. He doesn't just believe the story — he decides that the right response is to love Beatrice back. And then Beatrice arrives with the rudest possible dinner invitation, and Benedick finds double meaning in every word. The audience is watching a man fall in love, and it is wonderful.
If this happened today…
A man who has publicly and vocally sworn off relationships is eating lunch alone when his best friends sit down nearby — not noticing him — and start talking about how his ex is apparently completely in love with him, writing him long unsent messages at 2am, on the verge of a breakdown over it. His group chat is full of her texts to their mutual friend. He sits frozen, pretending to read a menu. By the time they leave, he's already composing a message in his head. When she texts him asking if he's coming to dinner, he reads the subtext of every word.