Original
Modern English
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, lady.
And bid her come hither.
And tell her to come here.
Well.
Alright.
Troth, I think your other rabato were better.
Honestly, I think your other collar would have been 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.
Honestly, it’s not as good; and I bet your cousin will say the same.
My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another: I’ll wear none but this.
My cousin’s a fool, and you’re one too: 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 headpiece looks great, if the hair were just a little darker; and your dress is a really rare style, honestly. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s dress that everyone’s praising.
O, that exceeds, they say.
Oh, they say that one’s even better.
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.
Honestly, it’s just a nightgown compared to yours: gold cloth, cut designs, and silver lace, with pearls, down the sleeves, on the sides, and around the skirt, all trimmed with a bluish tinsel. But for a fine, unique, graceful, and excellent style, yours is worth ten of that one.
God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy.
God help me to wear it! because my heart is so heavy.
’Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.
It will be even heavier soon, from the weight of a man.
Fie upon thee! art not ashamed?
Shame on you! Aren’t you embarrassed?
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, and it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise ’tis light, and not heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes.
Embarrassed by what, lady? By speaking truthfully? Is marriage not honorable even for a beggar? Is not your lord honorable without marriage? I think you want me to say, ’except your reverence, a husband’; but wrong thinking doesn’t twist true words, I won’t offend anyone: is there any harm in ’the heavier for a husband’? I don’t think so, as long as it’s the right husband and the right wife; otherwise it’s light, not heavy: ask Lady Beatrice, 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?
What’s wrong? Are you speaking in a sad tone?
I am out of all other tune, methinks.
I feel completely out of tune, I think.
Clap’s into ’Light o’ love;’ that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I’ll dance it.
Start singing "Light o’ love"; it’s easy to sing without any weight: you sing it, and I’ll dance.
Ye light o’ love, with your heels! then, if your husband have stables enough, you’ll see he shall lack no barns.
You "light o’ love," with your dancing! If your husband has enough stables, you’ll see that he won’t be short of barns.
O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.
Oh, what a twisted meaning! I reject that with my dancing.
’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 for you to be ready. Honestly, I feel really bad: sigh!
For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
For the letter that begins them all, H.
For the letter that starts them all, H.
Well, and you be not turned Turk, there’s no more sailing by the star.
Well, as long as you’re not a Muslim, there’s no more sailing by the star.
What means the fool, trow?
What does the fool mean by that?
Nothing I; but God send every one their heart’s desire!
Nothing, just that God grant everyone their heart’s desire!
These gloves the count sent me; they are an excellent perfume.
These gloves the Count sent me; they have a wonderful scent.
I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell.
I’m stuffed up, cousin; I can’t smell a thing.
A maid, and stuffed! there’s goodly catching of cold.
A girl, and bundled up! That’s a great way to catch 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 been pretending to be concerned?
Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?
Ever since you stopped doing it. Doesn’t my wit look good on me?
It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.
It’s not noticeable enough, you should wear it on your hat. I swear, I feel sick.
Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm.
Get some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, and apply it to your chest: it’s the best thing for nausea.
There thou prickest her with a thistle.
There you go, poking her with a thistle.
Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus.
Benedictus! Why Benedictus? You’re trying to make some point with this Benedictus, aren’t you?
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 point? No, I swear, I’m not trying to make any moral point; I just meant, plain holy thistle. You might think, maybe, that I think you’re in love: no, by my lady, I’m not foolish enough to think whatever I want, nor do I want to think whatever I can, nor actually, I can’t even think, if I tried, my heart would stop thinking, that you’re in love, or that you will be, or that you could be in love. Yet Benedick was the same way, and now he’s a changed man: he swore he’d never marry, and now, despite himself, he eats his food without complaint: and how you might be changed, I don’t know, but it seems to me you look with your eyes just like other women do.
What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
What speed is this your tongue is going?
Not a false gallop.
Not a fake 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, please step aside: the prince, the count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gentlemen of the town have come to take you to church.
Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.
Help me get ready, dear cousin, dear Meg, dear Ursula.