Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Ursula
Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire
her to rise.
I will, lady.
And bid her come hither.
Troth, I think your other rebato were better.
No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.
By my troth, 's not so good, and I warrant
your cousin will say so.
My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear
none 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.
O, that exceeds, they say.
By my troth, 's but a nightgown 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.
God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceedingly
'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a man.
Fie upon thee! Art not 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 ’; and bad
thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody.
Is there any harm in ‘ the heavier for a husband ’? None,
I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife;
otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy; ask my Lady
Beatrice else, here she comes.
Good morrow, coz.
Good morrow, sweet Hero.
Why how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?
I am out of all other tune, methinks.
Clap's into ‘ Light o' love ’; that goes without a
burden. Do you sing it, and I'll dance it.
Ye light o' love, with your heels! Then if your
husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no
O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with
'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; tis time you
were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill; heigh-ho!
For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
For the letter that begins them all, H.
Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no
change completely, become a renegade [as if in religion, from Christian to infidel]
more sailing by the star.
What means the fool, trow?
Nothing I; but God send everyone their
These gloves the Count sent me; they are an excellent
I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell.
A maid, and stuffed! There's goodly catching
O, God help me! God help me! How long have
you professed apprehension?
Even since you left it. Doth not my wit
become me rarely?
It is not seen enough; you should wear it in
your cap. By my troth, 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 (n.) 1
sudden sickness, feeling of nausea, fainting attack
There thou prickest her with a thistle.
Benedictus! Why Benedictus? You have some
moral 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.
What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
Not a false gallop.
Madam, withdraw; the Prince, the Count, Signor
Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are
come to fetch you to church.
Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good