Much Ado About Nothing, Act 3, Scene 2

I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon.

I'm only staying until your marriage is completed, and then I'm off to Arragon.

I’ll bring you thither, my lord, if you’ll vouchsafe me.

I'll escort you there, my lord, if you'll allow me.

Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bowstring, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks.

No, that would be as big a stain on the fresh shine of your marriage as showing a child his new coat and then forbidding him to wear it. I'll only be so bold as to ask Benedick for his company; because from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot he is nothing but merriment. He has cut Cupid's bowstring two or three times, and the little executioner dares not shoot at him. He has a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, because whatever his heart thinks, his tongue says.

Gallants, I am not as I have been.

Gentlemen, I'm not what I used to be.

So say I: methinks you are sadder.

I say the same: you seem more serious to me.

I hope he be in love.

I hope he's in love.

Hang him, truant! there’s no true drop of blood in him to be truly touched with love. If he be sad, he wants money.

Hang him, the deserter! There isn't one honest drop of blood in him that could be honestly moved by love. If he's gloomy, it's money he's short of.

I have the tooth-ache.

I have a toothache.

Draw it.

Pull it out.

Hang it.

Hang it.

You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.

You have to hang it first and draw it afterwards.

What! sigh for the tooth-ache?

What! Sighing over a toothache?

Where is but a humour or a worm?

When it's nothing but a bit of fluid or a worm?

Well, everyone can master a grief but he that has it.

Well, anyone can handle a pain except the one who has it.

Yet say I, he is in love.

Still I say he's in love.

There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.

There's no sign of fancy in him, unless it's the fancy he has for odd outfits: being a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow, or in the style of two countries at once, like a German from the waist down, all baggy breeches, and a Spaniard from the hip up, with no jacket. Unless he has a fancy for this foolishness, which he clearly does, he's no fool for fancy, as you want to make it look he is.

If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: a’ brushes his hat a mornings; what should that bode?

If he isn't in love with some woman, then the old signs mean nothing: he brushes his hat in the mornings. What can that mean?

Hath any man seen him at the barber’s?

Has anyone seen him at the barber's?

No, but the barber’s man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis balls.

No, but the barber's assistant has been seen with him, and the old decoration of his cheek has already gone to stuff tennis balls.

Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.

He really does look younger than he did, now that the beard is gone.

Nay, a’ rubs himself with civet: can you smell him out by that?

What's more, he rubs himself with civet perfume. Can you sniff him out by that?

That’s as much as to say the sweet youth’s in love.

That's as good as saying the sweet young man is in love.

The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

The clearest sign of it is his melancholy.

And when was he wont to wash his face?

And since when did he make a habit of washing his face?

Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.

Yes, or of putting makeup on? I've heard what people say about him for that.

Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lute-string, and now governed by stops.

No, but think of his joking spirit, which has now crawled into a lute string and is controlled by the frets.

Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude he is in love.

That really does tell a sad story about him. Conclude it, conclude it: he's in love.

Nay, but I know who loves him.

No, but I know who loves him.

That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.

I'd like to know that too. I bet it's someone who doesn't know him.

Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despite of all, dies for him.

Yes, she does, and knows his bad qualities too, and in spite of it all she's dying for him.

She shall be buried with her face upwards.

She'll be buried face upwards.

Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ache. Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear.

None of this is any cure for the toothache. Old sir, step aside with me: I've worked out eight or nine sensible words to say to you, which these clowns mustn't hear.

For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.

I'd bet my life he's going to raise the subject of Beatrice with him.

’Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet.

That's exactly it. By now Hero and Margaret have played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears won't bite each other when they meet.

My lord and brother, God save you!

My lord and brother, God keep you!

Good den, brother.

Good evening, brother.

If your leisure served, I would speak with you.

If you have the time, I'd like to speak with you.

In private?

In private?

If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him.

If you like; though Count Claudio may hear it, since what I want to speak about concerns him.

What’s the matter?

What's the matter?

[To Claudio.] Means your lordship to be married tomorrow?

[To Claudio.] Does your lordship intend to be married tomorrow?

You know he does.

You know he does.

I know not that, when he knows what I know.

I don't know that he will, once he knows what I know.

If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.

If there's any obstacle, please reveal it.

You may think I love you not: let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage; surely suit ill-spent and labour ill bestowed!

You may think I don't love you. Let that be settled later, and judge me better by what I'm about to reveal. As for my brother, I think he thinks well of you, and out of real affection has helped bring about your coming marriage — certainly courtship badly wasted and effort badly spent!

Why, what’s the matter?

Why, what's the matter?

I came hither to tell you; and circumstances shortened,—for she has been too long a talking of,—the lady is disloyal.

I came here to tell you; and to cut the details short — since she's been talked about far too long already — the lady is unfaithful.

Who, Hero?

Who, Hero?

Even she: Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero.

Her exactly: Leonato's Hero, your Hero, everyone's Hero.

Disloyal?

Unfaithful?

The word’s too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say, she were worse: think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant: go but with me tonight, you shall see her chamber window entered, even the night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, tomorrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.

The word is too kind to describe her wickedness. I could say she is worse. Think of a worse name for her, and I'll prove she deserves it. Don't be amazed until you have more proof: just come with me tonight, and you'll see her bedroom window climbed into, on the very night before her wedding day. If you still love her then, marry her tomorrow; but it would suit your honour better to change your mind.

May this be so?

Can this be true?

I will not think it.

I won't believe it.

If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly.

If you don't dare trust what you see, don't admit that you know it. If you'll come with me, I'll show you enough; and when you've seen more and heard more, act accordingly.

If I see anything tonight why I should not marry her tomorrow, in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her.

If I see anything tonight that means I shouldn't marry her tomorrow, then in the assembly where I was to marry her, that's where I'll shame her.

And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.

And just as I courted her for you to win her, I'll join with you to disgrace her.

I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself.

I'll say nothing worse about her until you're my witnesses. Just keep calm about it until midnight, and let the outcome reveal itself.

O day untowardly turned!

Oh, what a day turned wrong!

O mischief strangely thwarting!

Oh, what trouble, striking across my path so strangely!

O plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have seen the sequel.

Oh, what a disaster very nicely avoided! That's what you'll say once you've seen what follows.