Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living? Beatrice: Is it possible that disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence. Benedick: Then is courtsey a turncoat. But it is certain that I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart for, truly, I love none. Beatrice: A dear happiness to women! They would else have been bothered with a pernicious suitor...

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