Beatrice: O God, that I were a man. I would eat his heart in the market-place.
Claudio: Can the world buy such a jewel?
Benedick: Yea, and a case to put it into.
Friar Francis: Come, lady: die to live.
Benedick: Hah. The Prince, and Monsieur Love.
Benedick: By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.
Beatrice: Do not swear by it and eat it.
Benedick: I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it that says I love not you.
Hero: Nature never framed a woman's heart of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice - disdain and scorne ride sparkling in her eyes.
Beatrice: I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick. Nobody marks you.
Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain. Are you yet living?
Beatrice: Is't possible Disdain should die whilst she hath such meet food to feed it as Signor Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to Disdain when you come in her presence.
Beatrice: He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. And he that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man - I am not for him.
Beatrice: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.
Benedick: When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.
Benedick: A miracle. Here's our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity.
Beatrice: I would not deny you, but by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.
Benedick: Peace. I will stop your mouth.
Beatrice: I pray you, who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.
Messenger: He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.
Beatrice: O lord, he will hang upon him like a disease. He is sooner caught than the pestilence and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio. If he have caught the Benedick, 'twill cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.
Benedick: Serve God, Love me, and mend.