Sorry -- still in a state of geek glow about "Much Ado," and, by extension, all things Shakespeare:

(Well, the subtitle of my DreamWidth Journal is "The songs that get stuck in my head," so ... you know. At least you can't accuse me of false advertising)

First, Shakespeare, himself:

One of my favorite ironies in life, is that William Shakespeare, Esq., our modern world's icon of eloquence, kept returning to the idea that eloquence is inversely proportional to passion and sincerity.

( Examples of this from 'King Lear', 'Hamlet', and 'As You Like It' )

In Much Ado, this notion is articulated first in the scene where Leonato gives his blessing to the marriage between Claudio and his daughter Hero:

( quoted lines )

---
This, of course, leads to Beatrice and Benedick -- the two characters defined most strongly by the ease and glibness with which they speak.

There are two scenes in the play where the two of them are alone together (and thus, free from the pressure of keeping up appearances of their old habits, to avoid being teased). The first is in the church, immediately following Don Pedro's and Claudio's public accusation of Hero, where she faints and they leave her for dead. This is the scene where they first confess their love to each other... And it gets me in the gut every time.* It is perhaps worth noting that honor and virginity were as important for women in Elizabethan England as it is today in some communities in Islam -- indeed, Hero says to her father that, if he could prove that she was guilty as accused, he should torture her to death. Honor was equally important for men, and that honor was maintained by alliances with other men. ...So the fact that Benedict chose to stay behind to comfort the family of a disgraced daughter of a governor, instead of following the prince who had been his patron up to that point, is a clue to how much he really does love Beatrice.

I could quote their whole exchange, but I won't. Just this bit:

( quoted lines )

After three full acts of their cleverness and quips back and forth, this simplicity is almost like a splash of cold water -- and just as refreshing. The full scene is here: Act 4, scene i (this exchange starts about two-thirds down the page).

The next scene where they are alone is in Leonato's garden, after Benedick has challenged Claudio to a duel (the assurance of which is what finally convinces Beatrice that he really does love her-- backing up his vows with actions).
(Full scene is here: Act 5, scene ii)

Here, they fall into their old habits of teasing each other... but this time, they do it with much more good humor than in their first exchange:

( quoted lines )

A few lines later, Benedick gives a snarky argument about why it's good to praise your own virtues.... But then, he drops out of glibness, to ask after Hero's, and Beatrice's, health:

( yet more quoting )

...And I don't know. I just find those to be some of the most romantic lines in literature -- the way it's set up, it's clear that he no longer takes himself so seriously, but he does take Beatrice seriously. Sometimes, the kindest thing you can say to someone is "How are you?" ... if you really mean it.

One last thing: at the play's finale, and Benedick proposes to Beatrice, asking whether or not she loves him, she says: "Why no, no more than reason." ... and he replies in kind, when she asks him the same question. At first, this seems like they are just being coy, and a bit disingenuous, in order to avoid public embarrassment. But -- this is basically the same thing that Cordelia says to King Lear, when he has the expectation that her love for him be without bounds...

So... maybe this is something that Shakespeare (and others) truly believed? That love within reason is the best kind?

Just a thought that came to me, while I was typing this up...

*(except in the clip I saw of the David Tennant/Catherine Tate version... which, for some reason, was played with a slapstick vibe.... which... Just. No)