MESSENGER.
And a good soldier too, lady.

BEATRICE.
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; stuffed with all honourable
virtues.

BEATRICE.
It is so indeed; he is no less than a stuffed 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.

BEATRICE.
Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict four of his five
wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one! so
that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a
difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the 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?