ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?

The sense of wounded vanity is lost in bitter feelings, and she is
infinitely more struck by what is said in praise of Benedick, and the
history of his supposed love for her than by the dispraise of herself.
The immediate success of the trick is a most natural consequence of the
self-assurance and magnanimity of her character; she is so accustomed to
assert dominion over the spirits of others, that she cannot suspect the
possibility of a plot laid against herself.

A haughty, excitable, and violent temper is another of the
characteristics of Beatrice; but there is more of impulse than of
passion in her vehemence. In the marriage scene where she has beheld her
gentle-spirited cousin,--whom she loves the more for those very
qualities which are most unlike her own,--slandered, deserted, and
devoted to public shame, her indignation, and the eagerness with which
she hungers and thirsts after revenge, are, like the rest of her
character, open, ardent, impetuous, but not deep or implacable. When she
bursts into that outrageous speech--

Is he not approved in the height a villain that hath
slandered, scorned, dishonored my kinswoman? O that I were a
man! What! bear her in hand until they come to take hands;
and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander,
unmitigated rancor--O God, that I were a man! I would eat
his heart in the market-place!

And when she commands her lover, as the first proof of his affection,
"to kill Claudio," the very consciousness of the exaggeration,--of the
contrast between the real good-nature of Beatrice and the fierce tenor
of her language, keeps alive the comic effect, mingling the ludicrous
with the serious. It is remarkable that, notwithstanding the point and
vivacity of the dialogue, few of the speeches of Beatrice are capable of
a general application, or engrave themselves distinctly on the memory;
they contain more mirth than matter; and though wit be the predominant
feature in the dramatic portrait, Beatrice more charms and dazzles us by
what she is than by what she _says_. It is not merely her sparkling
repartees and saucy jests, it is the soul of wit, and the spirit of
gayety in forming the whole character,--looking out from her brilliant
eyes, and laughing on her full lips that pout with scorn,--which we have
before us, moving and full of life. On the whole, we dismiss Benedick