Much Ado About Nothing, Act 3, Scene 4

Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise.

Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and ask her to get up.

I will, lady.

I will, madam.

And bid her come hither.

And tell her to come here.

Well.

All right.

Troth, I think your other rebato were better.

Honestly, I think your other stiff collar would be better.

No, pray thee, good Meg, I’ll wear this.

No, please, good Meg, I'll wear this one.

By my troth’s not so good; and I warrant your cousin will say so.

I swear it isn't as good, and I promise you your cousin will say the same.

My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another: I’ll wear none but this.

My cousin is a fool, and you're another one. I'll wear nothing but this.

I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that they praise so.

I think the new headdress in the other room is excellent, if only the hair were a shade browner. And your gown is a truly rare fashion, honestly. I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that everyone praises so much.

O! that exceeds, they say.

Oh, they say that one is beyond anything.

By my troth ’s but a night-gown in respect of yours: cloth o’ gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a bluish tinsel; but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on’t.

I swear it's nothing but a nightgown compared with yours: cloth of gold, and slashes in it, and trimmed with silver, studded with pearls, sleeves that hang down, extra side sleeves, and skirts rounded out, lined underneath with a bluish glittering fabric. But for a delicate, elegant, graceful, excellent fashion, yours is worth ten of it.

God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy.

God give me the joy of wearing it, because my heart is extremely heavy.

’Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.

It will be heavier soon by the weight of a man.

Fie upon thee! art not ashamed?

Shame on you! Aren't you ashamed?

Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, saving your reverence, ‘a husband:’ an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I’ll offend nobody. Is there any harm in ‘the heavier for a husband’? None, I think, and it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise ’tis light, and not heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes.

Of what, madam? Of speaking honourably? Isn't marriage honourable even in a beggar? Isn't your lord honourable even without marriage? I think you'd rather have me say, if you'll pardon the word, "a husband." If wicked thinking doesn't twist honest speaking, I'll offend nobody. Is there any harm in "the heavier for a husband"? None, I think, so long as it's the right husband and the right wife. Otherwise it's light, not heavy. Ask my Lady Beatrice if you don't believe me — here she comes.

Good morrow, coz.

Good morning, cousin.

Good morrow, sweet Hero.

Good morning, sweet Hero.

Why, how now? do you speak in the sick tune?

Why, what's this? Are you speaking in the key of illness?

I am out of all other tune, methinks.

I seem to be out of every other key.

Clap’s into ‘Light o’ love’; that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I’ll dance it.

Let's strike up "Light o' Love." That one goes without a bass part. You sing it, and I'll dance to it.

Ye, light o’ love with your heels! then, if your husband have stables enough, you’ll see he shall lack no barnes.

Yes, light of love with your heels! Then, if your husband has enough stables, you'll see he won't be short of babies.

O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.

Oh, what an illegitimate reading of it! I kick that away with my heels.

’Tis almost five o’clock, cousin; ’tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Heigh-ho!

It's almost five o'clock, cousin; it's time you were dressed. Honestly, I feel extremely ill. Heigh-ho!

For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?

Sighing for a hawk, a horse, or a husband?

For the letter that begins them all, H.

For the letter that begins them all — H.

Well, and you be not turned Turk, there’s no more sailing by the star.

Well, if you haven't turned Turk, there's no navigating by the stars any more.

What means the fool, trow?

What does the fool mean, I wonder?

Nothing I; but God send everyone their heart’s desire!

Nothing at all; but God send everyone their heart's desire!

These gloves the Count sent me; they are an excellent perfume.

These are the gloves the Count sent me; they're beautifully perfumed.

I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell.

My nose is blocked, cousin; I can't smell anything.

A maid, and stuffed! there’s goodly catching of cold.

An unmarried girl, and stuffed! That's a fine way to have caught a cold.

O, God help me! God help me! how long have you professed apprehension?

Oh, God help me! God help me! How long have you claimed to be clever?

Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely!

Ever since you gave it up. Doesn't my wit suit me wonderfully well?

It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.

It isn't visible enough; you ought to wear it in your cap. Honestly, I am sick.

Get you some of this distilled Carduus benedictus, and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm.

Get yourself some of this distilled Carduus benedictus, and lay it on your heart. It's the only remedy for a sudden faintness.

There thou prick’st her with a thistle.

There you prick her with a thistle.

Benedictus! why benedictus? you have some moral in this benedictus.

Benedictus! Why benedictus? You have some hidden point in this benedictus.

Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy thistle. You may think, perchance, that I think you are in love: nay, by’r Lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging: and how you may be converted, I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do.

A hidden point! No, I swear, I meant nothing hidden; I meant plain holy thistle. You may possibly think I think you're in love. No, by our Lady, I'm not such a fool as to think whatever I please; nor do I please to think whatever I can; nor indeed could I think, even if I thought my heart out with thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was just the same kind of case, and now he's become a man: he swore he would never marry, and yet now, in spite of his heart, he eats his food without complaining. And how you may be converted, I don't know; but it seems to me you look out of your eyes the way other women do.

What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?

What pace is this that your tongue is keeping up?

Not a false gallop.

Not a jogging one that pretends to be a gallop.

Madam, withdraw: the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church.

Madam, come away: the Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the fine gentlemen of the town have come to take you to church.

Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.

Help me dress, good cousin, good Meg, good Ursula.