Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursala
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say that thou overheard’st us,
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honey-suckles, ripen’d by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter; like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it. There will she hide her,
To listen our propose. This is thy office;
Bear thee well in it and leave us alone.
Margaret, go run to the sitting room. You'll find my cousin Beatrice talking with the Prince and Claudio. Whisper in her ear and tell her that I and Ursula are walking in the orchard, and everything we're discussing is about her. Tell her you overheard us. Then invite her to sneak into the shaded bower where honeysuckles ripened by the sun block out the sunlight itself—like favorites of princes who grow so proud they rival the power that raised them. She'll hide there to listen to what we plan. This is your job. Do it well and then leave us alone.
Margaret, quick—head to the sitting room. You'll see my cousin Beatrice chatting with the Prince and Claudio over there. Pull her aside and tell her that me and Ursula are out walking in the orchard right now, and we're basically talking non-stop about her. Tell her you happened to overhear us. Then get her to sneak into that shaded bower with the honeysuckles—you know, the flowers so thick the sun can't even get through—kind of like those people at court who get so full of themselves they start going up against the very people who made them powerful. She's going to hide in there to listen to what we're planning. That's what you need to do. Make it work and then leave us.
go get beatrice from the sitting room tell her me and ursula are in the orchard talking about her get her to hide in the bower so she can listen that's ur job - make it happen then dip
I’ll make her come, I warrant you, presently.
I'll bring her here, I promise you, right away.
Don't worry, I'll get her over here in a second.
ill get her here for u rn
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick:
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
My talk to thee must be how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice: of this matter
Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay.
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice arrives, as we walk up and down this path, we need to talk only about Benedick. When I mention his name, you should praise him more than any man has ever deserved. I'll tell you how Benedick is lovesick over Beatrice—that's what this whole plan is made of, Cupid's clever arrow that wounds only through rumor and hearsay.
Okay Ursula, when Beatrice gets here, we're going to walk back and forth, and we're only going to talk about Benedick. When I bring up his name, you really lay it on thick—praise him way more than he probably deserves. I'm going to tell you how obsessed Benedick is with Beatrice. That's basically what this whole thing runs on—love working through gossip and what people say behind closed doors.
when beatrice gets here just walk and talk about benedick when i mention him go hard on praising him il tell u how obsessed he is w her thats the whole plan
Now begin;
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Now let's begin. Look - there's Beatrice, like a lapwing, running Low to the ground to listen to our conversation.
Okay, let's start. There she is - Beatrice coming over all sneaky, trying to hear what we're saying.
ok let's do this here comes beatrice running low to eavesdrop
The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait:
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
The most pleasant fishing is watching the fish cut through the silver stream with her golden oars and greedily swallow the deceptive bait. That's how we're fishing for Beatrice—and she's already hidden in the honeysuckle covering right now. Don't worry about my part of the conversation.
You know what's fun about fishing? Watching the fish slice through that shiny water with her golden oars and then snap up that fake bait without thinking. That's basically what we're doing with Beatrice right now—she's already hidden in the honeysuckle vines. And don't worry, I'll play my part perfectly.
fishing is cool when the fish bites beaatrice is already hiding in the honeysuckle im gonna nail my part of this
Hero is often read as a passive character — the woman things happen to rather than the one who makes them happen. But in 3-1, Hero is the director, the tactician, and the most verbally precise person in the scene. Her description of Beatrice — 'disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, misprising what they look at' — is arguably sharper than anything Beatrice says about anyone else in the play. She knows exactly where the knife needs to go: Beatrice's pride, her self-enclosure, her habit of critical distance. She doesn't just mock her cousin. She diagnoses her. And she's right — which is what makes the speech land so hard on Beatrice herself. Hero is doing what Beatrice does to everyone else: seeing clearly through someone, and saying it precisely. For one scene, the student becomes the teacher.
Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.
Then let's get close to where she's hiding so her ear doesn't miss any of the deceitful sweet words we're using to trap her.
Okay, so we need to stand close enough that she hears every word of this trap we're setting for her.
lets stand close so she hears all our bait
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock.
No, truly, Ursula, she is too scornful. I know her spirit is as shy and wild As untamed hawks on the cliffs.
No, seriously Ursula, Beatrice is way too stuck-up and proud. Her whole personality is as wild and untamed as a hawk - totally independent.
nah beatrice is too proud her spirit's wild like a hawk
But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
But are you certain that Benedick loves Beatrice so completely?
But are you really sure that Benedick is that into Beatrice?
u sure benedick's this obsessed w beatrice tho
So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord.
That's what the Prince says, and my new fiancé says it too.
That's what the Prince told me, and my fiancé—Claudio—says the same thing.
thats what prince and claudio told me
And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
And did they ask you to tell her about it, madam?
Did they actually ask you to tell her about his feelings for her?
did they ask u to tell her bout it
They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov’d Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
They did ask me to inform her about it, but I convinced them that if they really loved Benedick, they should want him to struggle with his feelings on his own and never tell Beatrice what he feels.
Yeah, they wanted me to go tell her, but I talked them out of it. I said if they actually cared about Benedick, they'd let him deal with these feelings himself and not say a word to Beatrice about it.
they wanted me to tell her but i said nah let benedick handle it himself if u care about him dont tell beatrice
Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full as fortunate a bed
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
Why did you do that? Doesn't Benedick deserve as full and fortunate a marriage bed as any that Beatrice will ever lie in?
Why would you do that? Doesn't Benedick deserve as good and happy a marriage as Beatrice will have?
y would u do that benedick deserves to b happy as beatrice will b
Beatrice's closing speech is structured around falconry: 'taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.' A wild hawk (haggard) must be trained before it will return to the falconer's glove — it takes patience, gentleness, and time. What Beatrice is describing is not the sudden arrow-love of Claudio for Hero but a love that requires her to change. She will become capable of tenderness. She will train herself. This is a very different kind of romantic comedy ending point than 'I saw her and was immediately lost.' It implies work, transformation, and self-knowledge. Compare this to Benedick, whose conversion speech ends with 'I will go get her picture' — the immediacy of desire. Beatrice is already thinking about what kind of person she needs to be to deserve what she's deciding to want.
O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man;
But Nature never fram’d a woman’s heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
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-endear’d.
Oh god of love, I know he deserves as much as can be given to any man. But nature never made a woman's heart out of prouder material than Beatrice's. Disdain and scorn shine sparkling in her eyes as she despises everything she looks at, and her wit values itself so highly that everything else seems worthless to her. She can't love anyone or imagine any kind of affection—she's so wrapped up in loving herself.
God, I know Benedick deserves everything good. But Beatrice? Nature just made her out of pure pride and arrogance. She walks around with this look of total contempt in her eyes for everything and everyone, and she's so in love with her own cleverness that she thinks everything else is basically worthless. She literally can't picture being in love with anyone—she's completely self-absorbed.
benedick deserves everything but beatrice is made of pure pride she's so full of herself she can't love anyone
Sure I think so;
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Sure, I think so. And therefore it certainly would not be good if she knew about his love, lest she mock it.
Yeah, you're right about that. And honestly, it would be terrible if she found out about his feelings, because she'd just make fun of him for it.
yeah youre right if beatrice knew hed b screwed she'd just mock him
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 would 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.
So turns she every man the wrong side out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
Well, you speak the truth. I've never yet seen any man, no matter how wise, how noble, young, or handsome he was, that she wouldn't mock and criticize in some way. If he's good-looking, she'd swear he should be her sister. If dark, she'd say nature drew a foul blot. If tall, a badly-headed lance. If short, a poorly-cut agate. If he talks, she says he's just a weathervane. If silent, he's a stone. She turns every man inside out and never gives credit to honesty or virtue that deserves it.
You're right. I've never seen a single man, no matter how smart or good-looking or noble he was, who she wouldn't find something wrong with. Like, if he's handsome, she'd say he should be her sister. If he's dark-skinned, she calls it a flaw. If he's tall, she mocks his proportions. If he's short, she says he's badly made. If he talks, he's just full of hot air. If he's quiet, he's boring. She takes every single man and tears him apart, and she never gives any credit to someone who's actually good and honest.
never seen a guy she wouldnt trash no matter how smart or cute she finds something wrong w everyone
Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
Certainly, constantly complaining like that is definitely not something to admire.
Yeah, constantly criticizing everything like that—it's not a great look, honestly.
yeah being that critical all the time aint cute
No; not to be so odd, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She would mock me into air: O! she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.
No, being so strange and outside all fashion like Beatrice is definitely not admirable. But who would dare tell her that? If I even tried to speak up, she'd ridicule me out of existence—she'd laugh me right out of myself and crush me with her clever words. So Benedick should be like a hidden fire, burning away with sighs and wasting away inside. That would be a better way to suffer than to die being mocked, which is almost as bad as being tickled to death.
Right, the way she refuses to act like anyone else and just dismisses everything—that's not a good thing. But seriously, who would have the guts to tell her that? If I even tried, she'd mock me into oblivion. She'd laugh so hard at me I'd basically disappear, and her insults would just crush me. So Benedick's just going to have to suffer in silence, burning up inside like a fire nobody can see. That's better than what would happen if she found out and spent all her time making fun of him.
being so weird isn't admirable but who would tell beatrice that she'd laugh me to death w her wit so benedick just gotta suffer quietly
Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.
But still, tell her about his feelings. Let's hear what she will say.
Actually, you should just tell her. I want to see how she reacts.
just tell her tho lol see what she says
No; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion.
And, truly, I’ll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with. One doth not know
How much an ill word may empoison liking.
No, instead I'll go talk to Benedick and advise him to fight against his passion. And to be honest, I'll come up with some truthful insults to damage my cousin's reputation. You don't know how much a bad word can destroy someone's attractiveness.
No, I'm going to go find Benedick and tell him to fight these feelings. And honestly, I might spread some truthful gossip about Beatrice to turn him off. You'd be surprised how much damage a few bad words can do when it comes to liking someone.
nah ill tell benedick to forget her and maybe i'll spread some truth bout beatrice one bad word ruins everything
O! do not do your cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment,—
Having so swift and excellent a wit
As she is priz’d to have,—as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
Oh, don't do your cousin that kind of wrong! She can't possibly lack good judgment that much—someone with such quick and excellent wit as she's known to have—she wouldn't refuse such a rare gentleman as Benedick.
Come on, don't do that to your cousin! She's got too much sense for that. I mean, she's known for being smart and clever—there's no way someone like that would turn down a great guy like Benedick.
don't do beatrice like that she's too smart to say no to benedick
Shakespeare constructs Acts 2-3 as a set of perfectly balanced mirror scenes: the masked ball, followed immediately by the villains' plot; Benedick gulled, then Beatrice gulled; each emerging transformed. The men's scene (2-3) is longer, more comic, more verbal — Benedick gets a full soliloquy and then the comedy of reading double meanings into Beatrice's rude dinner invitation. The women's scene (3-1) is shorter and more concentrated — Beatrice gets a sonnet of self-reckoning rather than pratfalling comedy. The structural contrast is itself a statement: women process emotion more directly; men need more scaffolding. Or perhaps: Hero is a more efficient trap-setter than Don Pedro. Either way, the parallel architecture is one of the play's great pleasures — and watching both scenes together makes you realize this is actually two love stories running simultaneously.
He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.
He is the only man of Italy, except for my dear Claudio.
He's basically the best guy in all of Italy, except obviously my fiancé Claudio.
he's the best in italy except claudio lol
I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.
I beg you, don't be angry with me, madam, for speaking my opinion: Benedick, in terms of his physique, his bearing, his argument and his courage, is the most talked-about man throughout Italy.
I hope you're not mad at me for saying this, but Benedick—the way he looks, the way he carries himself, how smart he is, how brave he is—he's got the best reputation of any man in the whole country.
don't b mad benedick is literally the most famous guy in italy for looks courage n wit
Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Indeed, he has an excellent good name.
Yeah, honestly, his reputation is amazing.
yeah his rep is fire
His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.
When are you married, madam?
His excellence did earn it before he even had it. When are you getting married, madam?
His excellence earned him that reputation even before he had it. So when's your wedding?
he earned it all when u getting married tho
Why, every day, tomorrow. Come, go in:
I’ll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel
Which is the best to furnish me tomorrow.
Well, every day from now until tomorrow. Come on, let's go inside. I'll show you some dresses and get your advice on which one is best for me to wear tomorrow.
Soon—basically tomorrow! Come on, let's go inside. I want to show you some dresses and see which one you think I should wear for the wedding tomorrow.
tomorrow lol come see my dresses which one should i wear
She’s lim’d, I warrant you,
We have caught her, madam.
She's trapped by our bait, I promise you. We have caught her, madam.
She's completely caught in our trap, don't worry. We've totally got her now.
she's trapped we got her
If it prove so, then loving goes by haps:
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
If that turns out to be true, then love comes down to chance and luck. Some of Cupid's victims die from arrows, and some fall into traps.
Well if that works out, then love is just about luck and what happens to you. Some people get hit with Cupid's arrows out of nowhere, and others just get caught in traps like this.
if it works love is just luck some people get cupid's arrows some fall in traps
[Advancing.] What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band;
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly.
What am I hearing? Can this be true? Am I really condemned for so much pride and scorn? Contempt, goodbye! and maiden pride, farewell! There is no glory in such pride. And, Benedick, go ahead and love; I will return it, Taming my wild heart to your loving hand: If you truly love me, my affection will move you To bind our love together in marriage; For others say you deserve it, and I Believe it even more truly.
Wait, am I hearing this right? Is this true? Am I really guilty of so much pride and scorn? Goodbye to contempt and to my stubborn maiden pride! There's nothing good about that kind of pride. And, Benedick, if you love me, I love you back, I'll tame my wild heart and give it to you: If you really do love me, my feelings will push you To marry me and bind our lives together; Others say you're worthy, and honestly, I believe that even more than hearsay.
wait did i just hear that am i really that proud goodbye to my stupid pride benedict i love you back i'll tame my heart for you marry me if u love me u deserve it
The Reckoning
This is the mirror scene to 2-3: the women's version of the trap, stripped to its essentials. Hero is sharper here than anywhere else in the play — she knows exactly which words will wound and which will win. Where the men's scene was comic and expansive, this one is swift and concentrated: Beatrice gets the shorter end of the comparison throughout, but what she emerges with is longer: an actual soliloquy of self-reckoning that goes much deeper than Benedick's 'the world must be peopled.' She doesn't just decide to love him. She decides to become someone who can be loved.
If this happened today…
Two women in a yoga studio, audible to their friend who's arrived early and is pretending to scroll her phone behind a pillar. 'She's brilliant — but she's so critical she'd find fault with her own shadow.' 'Did you tell her he's completely in love with her?' 'No — if she knew, she'd make it a joke. He'd be better off not knowing.' 'He's kind of perfect though, isn't he?' 'He really is.' The woman behind the pillar puts down her phone.