--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 marry'd.--Here comes Beatrice; by this day, she's a fair lady:
I do spy some marks of love in her.
The beauty of all this arises from the characters of the persons so
entrapped. Benedick is a professed and staunch enemy to marriage,
and gives very plausible reasons for the faith that is in him. And
as to Beatrice, she persecutes him all day with her jests (so that
he could hardly think of being troubled with them at night), she not
only turns him but all other things into jest, and is proof against
everything serious.
Hero. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.
Ursula. Sure, I think so;
And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Hero. Why, you speak truth: I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd,
She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick,
Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilely cut:
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
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