Beatrice: O, God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.
Benedick: Hear me, Beatrice…
Beatrice: Talk with a man at a window. O, a proper saying.
Benedick: Nay, but, Beatrice. . .
Beatrice: Sweet Hero. She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.
Beatrice: Princes and counties. A goodly count. O, that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend who would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into curtsies, valor into compliment, and men are only turned into tongues, and trim ones too. For he is now as valiant as Hercules who only tells a lie and swears it! I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
Buffy: All I want to do is graduate from high school, go to Europe, marry Christian Slater, and die. Now it may not sound too great to a sconehead like you, but I think it’s swell. And you come along and tell me I’m a member of the hairy mole club so you can throw things at me?