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I cannot interpret this “The Riverside Shakespeare “poem. Please help?

Bene, O! she misused me past the endurance of a block: an oak but with one green leaf on it, would have answered her: my very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince’s jester; that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the North Star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed: she would have made Hercules have turned split, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her; you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quite in hell

can someone paraphrase this into modern english? by shakespeare “The Riverside”?

Bene. O! she misused me past the endurance of a block: an oak but with one green leaf on it, would have answered her: my very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I has been myself, that I was the prince’s jester; that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every work stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her: she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed: she would have made Hercules have turned split, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her; you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to god some scholar would conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror and perturbation follow her.

National Youth Theatre Audition?

BENEDICK: O, she misused me past the endurance of a block! An oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince’s jester, that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect the North Star. I would not marry her though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed. She would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her. You shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her.

Would That Be A Good Monoluge To Use

In league with the Horned One?

A delightful, learned and scholarly neighbor of mine by the name of Simon, son of an Earl, friend of mine you see. Tender of age, twenty two, I took it upon myself to keep my eye on this here boy, as he enjoyed his new Home and racy Sports Car. It was the least I could do for my friend’s Son.
Until recently, everything was as becoming to any young Chap such as Simon, by that I mean good social life, beating his Servs, coupling with the Local Ladies and Village Bints alike. Just like me as a Young Fellow to boot.
Until one night he brought back this rather strange looking Raven Haired Starlet. A beauty to be sure, striking, forbidding and clad in Black. Ah! I thought, he’s been to a Goth Concert, and I thought nothing of it. But now I am filled with dread, as this Simon has changed drastically since this coupling of sorts. He’s since adopted a large smock as his main apparel, shaved his head and has taken to shrieking alien sounding Chants in the Garden, come the Midnights of clear evenings whenever the Moon is at it’s full Zenith.
This morning I saw him have a poo on his lawn with his smock hoisted up high. Gave me a start, let me tell you. Dropped me scone I did.
He then starred at me for what seemed ages, till I said hello. He replied with a bloodcurdling “How do you do” and
“Where art thou off to?”
“Just to Church Old Chap, care to join me?”, says I waving the good book at him. His reply was truly terrifying, as he hissed, lifted up his smock front with one claw-like hand and waggling a rather fearsome Erection with the other. As I hastily beat a retreat, I could hear him shouting some Bedeviled Incantation. . . . I shudder today still.
Well, the question at hand. Is this lad in League with Lucifer?
Or is it how today’s youngsters get out of going to Church?