No, not till a hot January

Beatrice:

Is Signior Mountanto returned from the wars or no? Messenger:
I know none of that name, lady. Hero:
My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. Messenger:
Oh, he's returned and as pleasant as ever he was. Beatrice:
I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? For indeed I promised to eat all of his killing. Messenger:
He hath done good service and a good soldier too, lady. Beatrice:
And a good soldier to a lady. But what is he to a lord? Messenger:
A lord to a lord. A man to a man, stuffed with all honorable virtues. Beatrice:
It is so, indeed. He is no less than a stuffed man. Leonato:
You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them. Beatrice:
Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother. Messenger:
He is most in the company of the right and noble Claudio. Beatrice:
O lord! He will hang upon him like a disease. He is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. Messenger:
I will keep friends with you, lady. Beatrice:
[Chuckles]
Do, good friend. Leonato:
You will never run mad, niece. Beatrice:
No, not till a hot January