Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior
Benedicke, no body markes you

Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet
liuing?
Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee
hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke?
Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in
her presence

Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine
I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and
I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard
heart, for truely I loue none

Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else
haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke
God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I
had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man
sweare he loues me

Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde,
so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate
scratcht face

Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere
such a face as yours were

Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher