By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect of
yours--cloth-o'-gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with
pearls down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne
with a blush 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 exceeding heavy.
'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.
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, an it be the right husband and
the right wife. Otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy. Ask my Lady
Here she comes.
Benedictus? why benedictus? You have some moral in this
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.