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Modern English
I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon.
I’m just waiting until your marriage is finished, then I’ll head to Arragon.
I’ll bring you thither, my lord, if you’ll vouchsafe me.
I’ll take 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 bow-string 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 spoil the shine of your new marriage, like showing a child his new coat and telling him not to wear it. I’ll only be bold with Benedick for his company; because, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, he’s all about fun: he’s cut Cupid’s bowstring two or three times and the little executioner won’t dare shoot at him; he’s got a heart as strong as a bell and his tongue is the bell, for whatever his heart thinks, his tongue says.
Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Gentlemen, I’m not who I used to be.
So say I methinks you are sadder.
I agree, you seem sadder.
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.
Forget him, lazybones! There’s no real emotion in him if he’s not really in love: if he’s sad, he probably just needs money.
I have the toothache.
I have a toothache.
Draw it.
Get it pulled out.
Hang it!
Forget it!
You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
You have to hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
What! sigh for the toothache?
What! Sighing because of a toothache?
Where is but a humour or a worm.
It’s just a little pain or a small problem.
Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.
Well, anyone can deal with grief, except the person who actually has it.
Yet say I, he is in love.
But 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 to-morrow, 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 love in him, unless it’s some kind of obsession with disguises; like being a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow, or wearing the clothes of two nationalities at once—like a German from the waist down, all baggy pants, and a Spaniard from the waist up, with no doublet. Unless he has a thing for this kind of silliness, as it seems he does, he’s not the fool for love that you think he is.
If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: a’ brushes his hat o’ mornings; what should that bode?
If he’s not in love with some woman, then I don’t believe in old signs: he brushes his hat in the morning; what does 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 mark on his cheek has already turned into tennis balls.
Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.
Indeed, he looks younger than he did, now that he’s lost his beard.
Nay, a’ rubs himself with civet: can you smell him out by that?
No, he rubs himself with a sweet-smelling oil: can you tell he’s in love by that?
That’s as much as to say, the sweet youth’s in love.
That’s as good as saying the sweet youth’s in love.
The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
The biggest sign is his melancholy.
And when was he wont to wash his face?
And when did he ever used to wash his face?
Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.
Yeah, or put on makeup? I hear what people are saying about him.
Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lute-string and now governed by stops.
No, it’s his joking spirit; which has now shrunk to a lute string and is now controlled by the finger stops.
Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude, conclude he is in love.
Yes, that makes it clear he’s in love: let’s just say it, let’s just say 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, and all his bad traits; and, despite everything, she still loves him.
She shall be buried with her face upwards.
She’ll be buried face up.
Yet is this no charm for the toothache. 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.
But this doesn’t help with a toothache. Old man, come with me: I’ve got a few wise things to say to you, but these fools can’t hear them.
For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.
For my life, to talk to him about Beatrice.
’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.
It’s true. Hero and Margaret have already done their part with Beatrice; and then the two of them won’t fight when they meet.
My lord and brother, God save you!
My lord and brother, God bless you!
Good den, brother.
Good evening, brother.
If your leisure served, I would speak with you.
If you have 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 it’s convenient: but Count Claudio can hear it, because it concerns him.
What’s the matter?
What’s going on?
[To CLAUDIO] Means your lordship to be married to-morrow?
[To CLAUDIO] Are you planning to get married tomorrow?
You know he does.
You know he is.
I know not that, when he knows what I know.
I don’t know that, not unless he knows what I know.
If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.
If there’s any problem, please tell me about 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 might think I don’t like you, but you’ll see later and judge me by what I’ll reveal now. As for my brother, I think he thinks highly of you and has sincerely helped you get this marriage arranged;--a goal poorly achieved, and effort poorly spent.
Why, what’s the matter?
Why, what’s going on?
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; to keep it brief, because she’s been talked about too much, the lady is unfaithful.
Who, Hero?
Hero?
Even she; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero:
Yes, her; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero:
Disloyal?
Unfaithful?
The word is 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 to-night, you shall see her chamber-window entered, even the night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.
"Unfaithful" isn’t even strong enough to describe her wickedness; I could say worse things about her: think of a worse term, and I’ll make it fit her. Don’t be shocked until you see more: just come with me tonight, and you’ll see her bedroom window open, just the night before her wedding day. If you still love her then, you can marry her tomorrow; but it would be better for your honor if you change your mind.
May this be so?
Could this be true?
I will not think it.
I refuse to 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 can’t trust what you see, don’t admit you know anything. If you follow me, I’ll show you enough; and once you’ve seen and heard more, you can decide what to do.
If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her.
If I see anything tonight that makes me think I shouldn’t marry her tomorrow in the church, where I’m supposed to wed, I’ll disgrace her.
And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.
And just as I helped you win her, I’ll help you 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 won’t ruin her reputation any more until you’re my witnesses: just keep calm until midnight, and let the results speak for themselves.
O day untowardly turned!
Oh, what a terrible turn of events!
O mischief strangely thwarting!
Oh, what mischief, so oddly stopped!
O plague right well prevented! so will you say when you have seen the sequel.
Oh, what a disaster, cleverly avoided! You’ll say that when you see how it all turns out.