Perfect.
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.
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?
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.
Last night was perfect. So divinely perfect. I definitely want to do that again.
Still, it'll never replicate last night - things never are the same the second time around.
I'm still swooning... =)
posted by me. @ 9:27 PM
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