Much Ado About Nothing Beatrice Quotes

Beatrice denounces marriage in general, but you’ll note that she goes on to point out the particular flaws of particular men. We’re left to guess whether she is against the institution of marriage in principle, or whether she’s simply convinced she’ll never find the right man. (Or is her man-bashing a consolation prize because she hasn’t found anyone yet?) Lots of possibilities, but the point is, she’s not stoked about marriage.

Beatrice jokes that she is unattractive and will never get a husband. (As though this were the sole reason she is still unmarried.) It’s also interesting to note that her "Good Lord, for alliance!" mirrors Benedick’s concern that he’ll never see another old bachelor—both of them seem to be sensitive to the fact that everyone is getting married, except for them.

Remember that the earlier Beatrice said she’d cry "heigh-ho," to find a husband. As Hero is off to her wedding, Beatrice likely itching for Benedick to be her own husband. Beatrice’s suddenly becoming ill mirrors her cousin’s sickness, but Beatrice seems to be sick for want of a husband, while Hero is about to be unwanted by a would-be husband.

Beatrice responds modestly to her Uncle Leonato’s compliment that she’s an observant girl. Her reply suggests that she’s not uncommonly observant, and can only see what’s in clear view (like a church— often the tallest building in a town—in daylight). Still, this is a misguiding statement. Beatrice seems to be demurring out of modesty, but we know she actually doesn’t see everything. The most obvious example is how she doesn’t recognize her strong (positive) feelings for Benedick. Later, Beatrice also misses the fact that she’s being manipulated into loving Benedick.

Here, Beatrice might be practicing self-deception. She knows there’s a lot to be miserable about in the world, but it’s easier to laugh than to cry at things you have no control over. This sleeping self-deception casts some light on Beatrice’s ability to be happy in the waking world, even though she might reasonably be sad that she’s so alone.

Through the play we get used to Beatrice talking with Benedick in a less-than-straightforward way. In this line, she uses a name for Benedick that no one knows. Also, this is Beatrice’s first line in the play—it’s significant that her first words are a reference to Benedick.

Beatrice has just heard Benedick bare his soul. Rather than pouring her heart out to him in return, she stumbles over her words, finally just declaring that she’s worried for Hero. This uneasiness is weird for Beatrice—she usually has a perfect quick and cutting reply for everything. It’s not clear whether she’s unsure of her feelings for Benedick, or is afraid to admit she loves Benedick... or maybe is just really caught up with her cousin’s life being ruined.

"Run mad" here refers to catching what Beatrice calls "the Benedick"—essentially going crazy for love. For Beatrice to "catch the Benedick," she’d have to be in love, which she says is as likely as a hot January. That is, "when hell freezes over." Famous last words.

Familial love is another form of love in the play, and in this instance it’s expressed as duty. Hero’s subservience to her father’s will is not because she’s a girl, but because she’s a daughter. Beatrice—also out of love for her cousin—reminds Hero that there’s some wiggle room in familial obedience.

This interaction tells us about what love means to Beatrice and Benedick. Beatrice is finally being open about loving Benedick, and she loves him completely. Benedick does too, and he invites her to ask anything of him. Without hesitation, Beatrice quickly announces her request—for Benedick to kill Claudio. 

This request may come out of convenience (Benedick is there, and he’s a man). On the other hand, it’s quite possible that she means to test Benedick’s love by finding out which his more important: his loyalty to his friends or his love for her. She needs proof of his commitment to her. Also, remember how Beatrice alluded to the fact that she had Benedick’s heart once, and he took hers unfairly. It’s reasonable that she might need more assurance this second time around, even if it means Claudio’s head.

Beatrice cuts Benedick deep here by suggesting his reputation is not what he’s thought it has been. While he knows men love him for his merriness, he might not have considered that they also mock him for it. Reputation is a powerful thing, especially when you hear about your own reputation from others, and it turns out to be far from how you thought.

Beatrice is willing to love Benedick, but it seems that the main force behind the decision is to clear her own reputation.

Beatrice suggests that a man’s reputation should be conveyed and earned by his actions and not his words, and especially not by his own words. Benedick points out that reputation these days is nothing but what men say it is. Who do you agree with more, Beatrice or Benedick? 

This is a brilliant statement from a gendered point of view. Beatrice first uses "man" in the general sense (as in mankind), but she finally comes around to admitting the gender inequality inherent in marriage. She plays on the notion that all mankind is ashes to ashes dust to dust, so it isn’t fitting that a woman should be ruled by a man (who is in the end only dust). The capstone to this deliciously incisive commentary is Beatrice’s assertion that all of Adam’s sons are her brothers, and she’d commit the sin of incest to marry them. 

She doesn’t actually believe she’s a blood-sister with all men—incest is just the easiest way to write off marrying any man. In claiming all Adam’s sons as her brothers, and admitting that all humankind is dust together, Beatrice has threaded together the argument that men and women are kindred and equal—they are made of the same material (earth, dust), return to being the same after death, and together they are all God’s children. 

It’s a fantastic insight that adds to Beatrice’s many reasons for not marrying—she is unwilling to be subservient to one of her equals (a man), which it seems she’d have to do if she were married. (It’s particularly juicy that Benedick also worries about giving up his independence and freedom by getting married. Though Beatrice has more cause to worry as far as losing freedom, we’re beginning to see Shakespeare draw parallels between the two characters.)

It’s interesting that Beatrice can’t enact her plan to avenge her cousin because she’s a woman. You might think she would’ve come up with some scheme she could do herself (because she’s so independent and strong-willed), but this seems one of those rare chances when Beatrice admits that she’s unable. There’s no discussion of why her plan needs to be executed by a man, but even for Beatrice there’s an implicit understanding that some work is done by women, and some by men.

With Benedick as her only audience, Beatrice berates all men for being complete wimps. If Benedick didn’t get the picture before, he does now: Beatrice needs a manly man. Beatrice rails against what manliness has come to in these days of courtly pomp, and it’s not a flattering picture. It’s interesting that Benedick has spent all this time up to now indulging in similar rantings against all the courtly niceties of love (using Claudio as a prime example). 

Now that Benedick has fallen in love, he’s provided a chance to prove that he’s different from other lovers who were transformed by love into sighing idiots (like Claudio). Especially now that Claudio has turned out to be faithless and cruel, Benedick can show that there are different ways to love than the stupid courtly formalities, which he’s not good at anyway. This could be Benedick’s big break.

Up to now, we could’ve believed that Beatrice loved Benedick and just wouldn’t admit it. However, what moves Beatrice about the "secret" conversation she’s just heard is the accusation that she’s scornful and prideful. Her pride is hurt at being called prideful (just like Benedick). Beatrice’s pride moves her more than any latent love for Benedick; she’s humbly willing to attempt to improve herself, which is way cooler than changing herself for a guy.

Beatrice seems comfortable with her choice to live an old maid, to the point where she’s even able to joke about the possibility of going to hell (which was assumed to be the final destination for unmarried women). She’s certain there’s nothing actually wrong with her, that she’s earned her place in heaven, and further, she’s happy to be single. This attitude—not of fury, or self-pity—is a pretty mature one, even if it’s a little bit of a front.