Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?
BEATRICE: Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.
BENEDICK: O, stay but till then!
BEATRICE: 'Then' is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere
I go, let me go with that I came; which is, with 
knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.
BENEDICK: Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.
BEATRICE: Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but
foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I
will depart unkissed. 
BENEDICK: Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense,
so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee
plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either
I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe
him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for 
which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
BEATRICE: For them all together; which maintained so politic
a state of evil that they will not admit any good
part to intermingle with them. But for which of my
good parts did you first suffer love for me? 
BENEDICK: Suffer love! a good epithet! I do suffer love
indeed, for I love thee against my will.
BEATRICE: In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart!
If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for
yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates. 
BENEDICK: Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
BEATRICE: It appears not in this confession: there's not one
wise man among twenty that will praise himself.
BENEDICK: An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in
the lime of good neighbours. If a man do not erect 
in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live
no longer in monument than the bell rings and the
BEATRICE: And how long is that, think you?
BENEDICK: Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in 
rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the
wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no
impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his
own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for
praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is 
praiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin?
BEATRICE: Very ill.
BENEDICK: And how do you?
BEATRICE: Very ill too.
BENEDICK: Serve God, love me and mend. There will I leave 
you too, for here comes one in haste.
URSULA: Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old
coil at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been
falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily
abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is 
fed and gone. Will you come presently?
BEATRICE: Will you go hear this news, signior?
BENEDICK: I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be
buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with
thee to thy uncle's.