MESSENGER.
Is’t possible?
BEATRICE.
Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block.
MESSENGER.
I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.
BEATRICE.
No; and he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil?
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, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.
MESSENGER.
I will hold friends with you, lady.
BEATRICE.
Do, good friend.
LEONATO.
You will never run mad, niece.
BEATRICE.
No, not till a hot January.