Much Ado About Nothing-Beatrice

Leonato: A kind overflow if kindness. There are no faces truer than those that are wash’d. How muhc better it is to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!	I pray you, is Signior Mauntano return’d from the wars for no?
Messenger: O, he’s return’d, and as pleasant as he ever was.	He set up his bills here in Messina, and challeng’d Cupid at the flight, and my uncle’s fool, reading the challenge, subscrib’d for Cupid, and challeng’d him at the burbolt. I pray you, how many hath he kill’d and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? For indeed I promised to eat all of his killing.
Messenger: He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.	You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it. He is a very valiant trencherman, he hath an excellent stomach.
Messenger: And a good soldier too, lady.	And a good soldier to a lady, but what is he to a lord?
Messenger: A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuff’ with all honorable virtues.	It is so indeed, he is no less than a stuff’ man. But for the stuffing – well, we are all mortal.
Leonato: You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of Merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her; they never meet but there’s a skirmish of wit between them.	Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern’d by one; so that if he have wit enough to himself warm, let him beat it for a difference between himself and his horse, for it is all wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.
Messenger: Is’t possible?	Very easily possible. He wears his faith but a fashion of his hat: it never changes with the next block.
Messenger: I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.	No, and he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil?
Messenger: He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.	O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease; he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere ‘a be cur’d.
Messenger: I will hold friend with you, lady.	Do, good friend.
Leonato: You will never run mad, niece.	No, not till a hot January.
Benedick: If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head in her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.	I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick, nobody marks you.
Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?	Is it possible disdain should die while he hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.
Benedick: Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am lov’d of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.	A dear happiness for women, they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suited. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humor for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.
Benedick: God keep your ladyship still in mind! So some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratch’d face.	Scratching could not make it worse, and ’twere such a face as yours were.
Benedick: Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.	A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
Benedick: I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way a God’s name, I have done.	You always end with a jade’s trick, I know you of old.

The Tempest