In honour of Shakespeare’s birthday:
And some of the lovely town of Stratford. The rainbow occurred just as I was leaving, after raining lightly all day.
Much Ado About Nothing
Beatrice: I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick:
nobody marks you.
Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?
Beatrice: Is it possible 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 courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain 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 troubled with
a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your
humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man
swear he loves me.
Benedick: God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or
other shall ‘scape a predestinate scratched face.
Beatrice: Scratching could not make it worse, an ’twere such a face as yours
Benedick: Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
Beatrice: A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
Benedick: I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i’ God’s name; I have done.
Beatrice: You always end with a jade’s trick: I know you of old.
And, because he’s a favourite, some Feste from Twelfth Night:
Cesario: Dost thou live by thy music, friend?
Feste: No, sir, I live by the church.
Cesario: Art thou a churchman?
Feste: No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
Feste: Good madonna, why mournest thou?
Olivia: Good fool, for my brother’s death.
Feste: I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
Olivia: I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
Feste: The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul being in heaven.