- "That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she Brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks: But that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle In an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor." --Act 1, Scene 1: Benedick to Don Pedro
- "But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts Have left their places vacant, in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is." --Act 1, Scene 1: Claudio to Don Pedro
- "I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in His grace, and it better fits my blood to be Disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob Love from any." --Act 1, Scene 3: Don John to Conrade
- "Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool; Only his gift is in devising impossible slanders." --Act 2, Scene 1: Beatrice to Benedick in disguise
- "O, she misused me beyond the endurance of a block! An oak with but one green leaf on it would have answered her; My very visor began to assume life and scold with her." --Act 2, Scene 1: Benedick to himself
- "Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were But little happy, if I could say how much." --Act 2, Scene 1: Claudio to Don Pedro
- "Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him, And whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges Evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?" --Act 2, Scene 2: Don John to Borachio
- "I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much Another man is a fool when he dedicates his Behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at Shallow follies in others, become the argument Of his own scorn by falling in love." --Act 2, Scene 3: Benedick to himself
- "Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it: You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals That rage in savage sensuality." --Act 4, Scene 1: Claudio to Hero
- "O, she is fallen Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again And salt too little which may season give To her foul-tainted flesh!" --Act 4, Scene 1: Leonato to Beatrice
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