LEONATO. Then half Signior Benedick’s tongue in Count John’s mouth, and half Count John’s melancholy in Signior Benedick’s face— BEATRICE. With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world if a’ could get her good will. LEONATO. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. ANTONIO. In faith, she’s too curst. BEATRICE. Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God’s sending that way; for it is said, ‘God sends a curst cow short horns;’ but to a cow too curst he sends none. LEONATO. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns? BEATRICE. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face: I had rather lie in the woollen. LEONATO. You may light on a husband that hath no beard. BEATRICE. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel and make him my waiting gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead his apes into hell. LEONATO. Well then, go you into hell? BEATRICE. No; but to the gate; and there will the Devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say, ‘Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here’s no place for you maids.’ So deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the heavens: he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. ANTONIO. [To Hero.] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father. BEATRICE. Yes, faith; it is my cousin’s duty to make curtsy, and say, ‘Father, as it please you:’— but yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy, and say, ‘Father, as it please me.’ LEONATO. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. BEATRICE. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I’ll none: Adam’s sons are my brethren; and truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEONATO. Daughter, remember what I told you: if the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.