Beat. Yea, 'Light o' love,' with your heels!--then, if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns. Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. Beat. 'T is almost five o'clock, cousin; 't is time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: hey-ho! Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. Beat. What means the fool, trow? Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire! Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold. Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have you profess'd apprehension? Marg. Ever since you left it: doth not my wit become me rarely? Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap.--By my troth, I am sick. Marg. 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 prick'st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. Marg. 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. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? Marg. Not a false gallop. [Re-enter Ursula.] Urs. 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.] Scene V.--Another Room in Leonato's house. [Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.] Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour? Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly. Leon. Brief, I pray you; for, you see, 't is a busy time with me. Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir. Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. Leon. What is it, my good friends? Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows. Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.