ACT III
SCENE IV HERO's apartment.


 [Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA]

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

URSULA I will, lady.

HERO And bid her come hither.

URSULA Well.

 [Exit]

MARGARET Troth, I think your other rabato were better.

HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.

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

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

MARGARET 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.

HERO O, that exceeds, they say.

MARGARET 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.

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

MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.

HERO Fie upon thee! art not ashamed?

MARGARET 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.

 [Enter BEATRICE]

HERO Good morrow, coz.

BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero.

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

BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks.

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

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

MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.

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

MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?

BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H.

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

BEATRICE What means the fool, trow?

MARGARET Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!

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

BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell.

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

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

MARGARET Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?

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

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

HERO There thou prickest her with a thistle.

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

MARGARET 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.

BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?

MARGARET Not a false gallop.

 [Re-enter URSULA]

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

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

 [Exeunt]




 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING


ACT III