Beatrice: Ah, I see you are still but a mere dog-hearted cur.
Benedick: Oh Beatrice, always a devil-monk.
Beatrice: Please don’t talk, your breath is a death token.
Benedick: As is your hair and your attitude.
Beatrice: Yet I wonder how your attitude won you the war.
Benedick: I won obviously with the skill and strength of a king.
Beatrice: The skill of a flap-dragon and the strength of a barnacle.
Benedick: Oh please, you could do no better.
Beatrice: I could do better than a braggart such as yourself.
Benedick: The only thing you’re capable of is grizzling like a harpy, be off with you.