Speeches (Lines) for Margaret in "Much Ado About Nothing"

Balthasar. Well, I would you did like me.

Margaret. So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many
ill-qualities.

Balthasar. Which is one?

Margaret. I say my prayers aloud.

Balthasar. I love you the better: the hearers may cry, Amen.

Margaret. God match me with a good dancer!

Balthasar. Amen.

Margaret. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is
done! Answer, clerk.

Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her,
To listen our purpose. This is thy office;
Bear thee well in it and leave us alone.

Margaret. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.

Ursula. Well.

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.

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!

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.

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.

Benedick. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at
my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.

Margaret. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?

Benedick. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living
shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou
deservest it.

Margaret. To have no man come over me! why, shall I always
keep below stairs?

Benedick. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth; it catches.

Margaret. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit,
but hurt not.

Benedick. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a
woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give
thee the bucklers.

Margaret. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.

Benedick. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the
pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids.

Margaret. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.