ARM Club 1/ARM_CLUB_CD.iso/contents/books/progs/shakespear/twelfthnig/TwelfthNig

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        TWELFTH NIGHT


        DRAMATIS PERSONAE


ORSINO  Duke of Illyria. (DUKE ORSINO:)

SEBASTIAN       brother to Viola.

ANTONIO a sea captain, friend to Sebastian.

        A Sea Captain, friend to Viola. (Captain:)


VALENTINE       |
        |  gentlemen attending on the Duke.
CURIO   |


SIR TOBY BELCH  uncle to Olivia.

SIR ANDREW
AGUECHEEK       (SIR ANDREW:)

MALVOLIO        steward to Olivia.


FABIAN          |
                |  servants to Olivia.
FESTE   a Clown  (Clown:)       |


OLIVIA:

VIOLA:

MARIA   Olivia's woman.

        Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians,
        and other Attendants.
        (Priest:)
        (First Officer:)
        (Second Officer:)
        (Servant:)


SCENE   A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it.




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE I DUKE ORSINO's palace.


        [Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords;
        Musicians attending]

DUKE ORSINO     If music be the food of love, play on;
        Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
        The appetite may sicken, and so die.
        That strain again! it had a dying fall:
        O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
        That breathes upon a bank of violets,
        Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
        'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
        O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
        That, notwithstanding thy capacity
        Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
        Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
        But falls into abatement and low price,
        Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
        That it alone is high fantastical.

CURIO   Will you go hunt, my lord?

DUKE ORSINO     What, Curio?

CURIO   The hart.

DUKE ORSINO             Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
        O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
        Methought she purged the air of pestilence!
        That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
        And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
        E'er since pursue me.

        [Enter VALENTINE]

                How now! what news from her?

VALENTINE       So please my lord, I might not be admitted;
        But from her handmaid do return this answer:
        The element itself, till seven years' heat,
        Shall not behold her face at ample view;
        But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
        And water once a day her chamber round
        With eye-offending brine: all this to season
        A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
        And lasting in her sad remembrance.

DUKE ORSINO     O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
        To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
        How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
        Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
        That live in her; when liver, brain and heart,
        These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
        Her sweet perfections with one self king!
        Away before me to sweet beds of flowers:
        Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE II        The sea-coast.


        [Enter VIOLA, a Captain, and Sailors]

VIOLA   What country, friends, is this?

Captain This is Illyria, lady.

VIOLA   And what should I do in Illyria?
        My brother he is in Elysium.
        Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?

Captain It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

VIOLA   O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.

Captain True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
        Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
        When you and those poor number saved with you
        Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
        Most provident in peril, bind himself,
        Courage and hope both teaching him the practise,
        To a strong mast that lived upon the sea;
        Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
        I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
        So long as I could see.

VIOLA   For saying so, there's gold:
        Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
        Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
        The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

Captain Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
        Not three hours' travel from this very place.

VIOLA   Who governs here?

Captain A noble duke, in nature as in name.

VIOLA   What is the name?

Captain Orsino.

VIOLA   Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
        He was a bachelor then.

Captain And so is now, or was so very late;
        For but a month ago I went from hence,
        And then 'twas fresh in murmur,--as, you know,
        What great ones do the less will prattle of,--
        That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

VIOLA   What's she?

Captain A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
        That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
        In the protection of his son, her brother,
        Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
        They say, she hath abjured the company
        And sight of men.

VIOLA                     O that I served that lady
        And might not be delivered to the world,
        Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
        What my estate is!

Captain That were hard to compass;
        Because she will admit no kind of suit,
        No, not the duke's.

VIOLA   There is a fair behavior in thee, captain;
        And though that nature with a beauteous wall
        Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
        I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
        With this thy fair and outward character.
        I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
        Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
        For such disguise as haply shall become
        The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
        Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him:
        It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing
        And speak to him in many sorts of music
        That will allow me very worth his service.
        What else may hap to time I will commit;
        Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Captain Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
        When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

VIOLA   I thank thee: lead me on.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE III       OLIVIA'S house.


        [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]

SIR TOBY BELCH  What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
        her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.

MARIA   By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'
        nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great
        exceptions to your ill hours.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Why, let her except, before excepted.

MARIA   Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
        limits of order.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:
        these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be
        these boots too: an they be not, let them hang
        themselves in their own straps.

MARIA   That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard
        my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish
        knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

MARIA   Ay, he.

SIR TOBY BELCH  He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

MARIA   What's that to the purpose?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

MARIA   Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
        he's a very fool and a prodigal.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
        viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
        word for word without book, and hath all the good
        gifts of nature.

MARIA   He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that
        he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that
        he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he
        hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent
        he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

SIR TOBY BELCH  By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
        that say so of him. Who are they?

MARIA   They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

SIR TOBY BELCH  With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to
        her as long as there is a passage in my throat and
        drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill
        that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn
        o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
        Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

        [Enter SIR ANDREW]

SIR ANDREW      Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Sweet Sir Andrew!

SIR ANDREW      Bless you, fair shrew.

MARIA   And you too, sir.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

SIR ANDREW      What's that?

SIR TOBY BELCH  My niece's chambermaid.

SIR ANDREW      Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

MARIA   My name is Mary, sir.

SIR ANDREW      Good Mistress Mary Accost,--

SIR TOBY BELCH  You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
        her, woo her, assail her.

SIR ANDREW      By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
        company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'?

MARIA   Fare you well, gentlemen.

SIR TOBY BELCH  An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
        never draw sword again.

SIR ANDREW      An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
        draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have
        fools in hand?

MARIA   Sir, I have not you by the hand.

SIR ANDREW      Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

MARIA   Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
        your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.

SIR ANDREW      Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?

MARIA   It's dry, sir.

SIR ANDREW      Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
        keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?

MARIA   A dry jest, sir.

SIR ANDREW      Are you full of them?

MARIA   Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
        now I let go your hand, I am barren.

        [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH  O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I
        see thee so put down?

SIR ANDREW      Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary
        put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit
        than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a
        great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.

SIR TOBY BELCH  No question.

SIR ANDREW      An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
        to-morrow, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Pourquoi, my dear knight?

SIR ANDREW      What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had
        bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in
        fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but
        followed the arts!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

SIR ANDREW      Why, would that have mended my hair?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

SIR ANDREW      But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
        hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
        and spin it off.

SIR ANDREW      Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece
        will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one
        she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her.

SIR TOBY BELCH  She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
        her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I
        have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,
        man.

SIR ANDREW      I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the
        strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques
        and revels sometimes altogether.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

SIR ANDREW      As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
        degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
        with an old man.

SIR TOBY BELCH  What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

SIR ANDREW      Faith, I can cut a caper.

SIR TOBY BELCH  And I can cut the mutton to't.

SIR ANDREW      And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
        as any man in Illyria.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have
        these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to
        take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost
        thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in
        a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
        so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
        dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?
        I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
        leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

SIR ANDREW      Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
        flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?

SIR TOBY BELCH  What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

SIR ANDREW      Taurus! That's sides and heart.

SIR TOBY BELCH  No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
        caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE IV        DUKE ORSINO's palace.


        [Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire]

VALENTINE       If the duke continue these favours towards you,
        Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath
        known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

VIOLA   You either fear his humour or my negligence, that
        you call in question the continuance of his love:
        is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?

VALENTINE       No, believe me.

VIOLA   I thank you. Here comes the count.

        [Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and Attendants]

DUKE ORSINO     Who saw Cesario, ho?

VIOLA   On your attendance, my lord; here.

DUKE ORSINO     Stand you a while aloof, Cesario,
        Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
        To thee the book even of my secret soul:
        Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
        Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
        And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
        Till thou have audience.

VIOLA   Sure, my noble lord,
        If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
        As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

DUKE ORSINO     Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds
        Rather than make unprofited return.

VIOLA   Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?

DUKE ORSINO     O, then unfold the passion of my love,
        Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
        It shall become thee well to act my woes;
        She will attend it better in thy youth
        Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.

VIOLA   I think not so, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO     Dear lad, believe it;
        For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
        That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
        Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
        Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
        And all is semblative a woman's part.
        I know thy constellation is right apt
        For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
        All, if you will; for I myself am best
        When least in company. Prosper well in this,
        And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
        To call his fortunes thine.

VIOLA   I'll do my best
        To woo your lady:

        [Aside]

        yet, a barful strife!
        Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE V OLIVIA'S house.


        [Enter MARIA and Clown]

MARIA   Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will
        not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in
        way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Clown   Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
        world needs to fear no colours.

MARIA   Make that good.

Clown   He shall see none to fear.

MARIA   A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that
        saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.'

Clown   Where, good Mistress Mary?

MARIA   In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clown   Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those
        that are fools, let them use their talents.

MARIA   Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or,
        to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clown   Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and,
        for turning away, let summer bear it out.

MARIA   You are resolute, then?

Clown   Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.

MARIA   That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both
        break, your gaskins fall.

Clown   Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if
        Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
        piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

MARIA   Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my
        lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.

        [Exit]

Clown   Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!
        Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft
        prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may
        pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus?
        'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'

        [Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO]

        God bless thee, lady!

OLIVIA  Take the fool away.

Clown   Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.

OLIVIA  Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
        besides, you grow dishonest.

Clown   Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
        will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
        the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend
        himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
        he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
        that's mended is but patched: virtue that
        transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
        amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
        simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
        what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
        calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
        away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.

OLIVIA  Sir, I bade them take away you.

Clown   Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non
        facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not
        motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to
        prove you a fool.

OLIVIA  Can you do it?

Clown   Dexterously, good madonna.

OLIVIA  Make your proof.

Clown   I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse
        of virtue, answer me.

OLIVIA  Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

Clown   Good madonna, why mournest thou?

OLIVIA  Good fool, for my brother's death.

Clown   I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

OLIVIA  I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

Clown   The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's
        soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.

OLIVIA  What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

MALVOLIO        Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him:
        infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the
        better fool.

Clown   God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the
        better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be
        sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his
        word for two pence that you are no fool.

OLIVIA  How say you to that, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO        I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
        barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day
        with an ordinary fool that has no more brain
        than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard
        already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to
        him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men,
        that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better
        than the fools' zanies.

OLIVIA  Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
        with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
        guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those
        things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets:
        there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do
        nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
        man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clown   Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou
        speakest well of fools!

        [Re-enter MARIA]

MARIA   Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much
        desires to speak with you.

OLIVIA  From the Count Orsino, is it?

MARIA   I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.

OLIVIA  Who of my people hold him in delay?

MARIA   Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

OLIVIA  Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but
        madman: fie on him!

        [Exit MARIA]

        Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I
        am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.

        [Exit MALVOLIO]

        Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and
        people dislike it.

Clown   Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest
        son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with
        brains! for,--here he comes,--one of thy kin has a
        most weak pia mater.

        [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH]

OLIVIA  By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?

SIR TOBY BELCH  A gentleman.

OLIVIA  A gentleman! what gentleman?

SIR TOBY BELCH  'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these
        pickle-herring! How now, sot!

Clown   Good Sir Toby!

OLIVIA  Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.

OLIVIA  Ay, marry, what is he?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
        me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.

        [Exit]

OLIVIA  What's a drunken man like, fool?

Clown   Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one
        draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads
        him; and a third drowns him.

OLIVIA  Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my
        coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's
        drowned: go, look after him.

Clown   He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look
        to the madman.

        [Exit]

        [Re-enter MALVOLIO]

MALVOLIO        Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
        you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to
        understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
        with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to
        have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
        comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him,
        lady? he's fortified against any denial.

OLIVIA  Tell him he shall not speak with me.

MALVOLIO        Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your
        door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to
        a bench, but he'll speak with you.

OLIVIA  What kind o' man is he?

MALVOLIO        Why, of mankind.

OLIVIA  What manner of man?

MALVOLIO        Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no.

OLIVIA  Of what personage and years is he?

MALVOLIO        Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for
        a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
        cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him
        in standing water, between boy and man. He is very
        well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one
        would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

OLIVIA  Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.

MALVOLIO        Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

        [Exit]

        [Re-enter MARIA]

OLIVIA  Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
        We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

        [Enter VIOLA, and Attendants]

VIOLA   The honourable lady of the house, which is she?

OLIVIA  Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
        Your will?

VIOLA   Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,--I
        pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house,
        for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away
        my speech, for besides that it is excellently well
        penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
        beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very
        comptible, even to the least sinister usage.

OLIVIA  Whence came you, sir?

VIOLA   I can say little more than I have studied, and that
        question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me
        modest assurance if you be the lady of the house,
        that I may proceed in my speech.

OLIVIA  Are you a comedian?

VIOLA   No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs
        of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you
        the lady of the house?

OLIVIA  If I do not usurp myself, I am.

VIOLA   Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
        yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
        to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
        on with my speech in your praise, and then show you
        the heart of my message.

OLIVIA  Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.

VIOLA   Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.

OLIVIA  It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you,
        keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates,
        and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you
        than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if
        you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of
        moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

MARIA   Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.

VIOLA   No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little
        longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet
        lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger.

OLIVIA  Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when
        the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.

VIOLA   It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
        war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
        hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.

OLIVIA  Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?

VIOLA   The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
        learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
        would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears,
        divinity, to any other's, profanation.

OLIVIA  Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.

        [Exeunt MARIA and Attendants]

        Now, sir, what is your text?

VIOLA   Most sweet lady,--

OLIVIA  A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.
        Where lies your text?

VIOLA   In Orsino's bosom.

OLIVIA  In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?

VIOLA   To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.

OLIVIA  O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?

VIOLA   Good madam, let me see your face.

OLIVIA  Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate
        with my face? You are now out of your text: but
        we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
        Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't
        not well done?

        [Unveiling]

VIOLA   Excellently done, if God did all.

OLIVIA  'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.

VIOLA   'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
        Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
        Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
        If you will lead these graces to the grave
        And leave the world no copy.

OLIVIA  O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give
        out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
        inventoried, and every particle and utensil
        labelled to my will: as, item, two lips,
        indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to
        them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were
        you sent hither to praise me?

VIOLA   I see you what you are, you are too proud;
        But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
        My lord and master loves you: O, such love
        Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
        The nonpareil of beauty!

OLIVIA  How does he love me?

VIOLA   With adorations, fertile tears,
        With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

OLIVIA  Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him:
        Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
        Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
        In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant;
        And in dimension and the shape of nature
        A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
        He might have took his answer long ago.

VIOLA   If I did love you in my master's flame,
        With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
        In your denial I would find no sense;
        I would not understand it.

OLIVIA  Why, what would you?

VIOLA   Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
        And call upon my soul within the house;
        Write loyal cantons of contemned love
        And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
        Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
        And make the babbling gossip of the air
        Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
        Between the elements of air and earth,
        But you should pity me!

OLIVIA  You might do much.
        What is your parentage?

VIOLA   Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
        I am a gentleman.

OLIVIA                    Get you to your lord;
        I cannot love him: let him send no more;
        Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
        To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
        I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.

VIOLA   I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
        My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
        Love make his heart of flint that you shall love;
        And let your fervor, like my master's, be
        Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty.

        [Exit]

OLIVIA  'What is your parentage?'
        'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
        I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
        Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
        Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast:
        soft, soft!
        Unless the master were the man. How now!
        Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
        Methinks I feel this youth's perfections
        With an invisible and subtle stealth
        To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
        What ho, Malvolio!

        [Re-enter MALVOLIO]

MALVOLIO                          Here, madam, at your service.

OLIVIA  Run after that same peevish messenger,
        The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
        Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it.
        Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
        Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
        If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
        I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio.

MALVOLIO        Madam, I will.

        [Exit]

OLIVIA  I do I know not what, and fear to find
        Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
        Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe;
        What is decreed must be, and be this so.

        [Exit]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE I The sea-coast.


        [Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN]

ANTONIO Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you?

SEBASTIAN       By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over
        me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps
        distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your
        leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad
        recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.

ANTONIO: Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.

SEBASTIAN       No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere
        extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a
        touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me
        what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges
        me in manners the rather to express myself. You
        must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian,
        which I called Roderigo. My father was that
        Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard
        of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both
        born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased,
        would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that;
        for some hour before you took me from the breach of
        the sea was my sister drowned.

ANTONIO Alas the day!

SEBASTIAN       A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled
        me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but,
        though I could not with such estimable wonder
        overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly
        publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but
        call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt
        water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

ANTONIO Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.

SEBASTIAN       O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

ANTONIO If you will not murder me for my love, let me be
        your servant.

SEBASTIAN       If you will not undo what you have done, that is,
        kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not.
        Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness,
        and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that
        upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell
        tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell.

        [Exit]

ANTONIO The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
        I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
        Else would I very shortly see thee there.
        But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
        That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

        [Exit]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE II        A street.


        [Enter VIOLA, MALVOLIO following]

MALVOLIO        Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia?

VIOLA   Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since
        arrived but hither.

MALVOLIO        She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have
        saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself.
        She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord
        into a desperate assurance she will none of him:
        and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to
        come again in his affairs, unless it be to report
        your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.

VIOLA   She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.

MALVOLIO        Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her
        will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth
        stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be
        it his that finds it.

        [Exit]

VIOLA   I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
        Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!
        She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
        That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
        For she did speak in starts distractedly.
        She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
        Invites me in this churlish messenger.
        None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
        I am the man: if it be so, as 'tis,
        Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
        Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
        Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
        How easy is it for the proper-false
        In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
        Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we!
        For such as we are made of, such we be.
        How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly;
        And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
        And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
        What will become of this? As I am man,
        My state is desperate for my master's love;
        As I am woman,--now alas the day!--
        What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
        O time! thou must untangle this, not I;
        It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

        [Exit]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE III       OLIVIA's house.


        [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
        midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
        surgere,' thou know'st,--

SIR ANDREW      Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
        late is to be up late.

SIR TOBY BELCH  A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.
        To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is
        early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go
        to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the
        four elements?

SIR ANDREW      Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists
        of eating and drinking.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
        Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

        [Enter Clown]

SIR ANDREW      Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Clown   How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
        of 'we three'?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

SIR ANDREW      By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I
        had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg,
        and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In
        sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last
        night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the
        Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas
        very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy
        leman: hadst it?

Clown   I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose
        is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the
        Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

SIR ANDREW      Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all
        is done. Now, a song.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

SIR ANDREW      There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a--

Clown   Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

SIR TOBY BELCH  A love-song, a love-song.

SIR ANDREW      Ay, ay: I care not for good life.

Clown   [Sings]

        O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
        O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,
        That can sing both high and low:
        Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
        Journeys end in lovers meeting,
        Every wise man's son doth know.

SIR ANDREW      Excellent good, i' faith.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Good, good.

Clown   [Sings]

        What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
        Present mirth hath present laughter;
        What's to come is still unsure:
        In delay there lies no plenty;
        Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
        Youth's a stuff will not endure.

SIR ANDREW      A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

SIR TOBY BELCH  A contagious breath.

SIR ANDREW      Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

SIR TOBY BELCH  To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
        But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we
        rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three
        souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?

SIR ANDREW      An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.

Clown   By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

SIR ANDREW      Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'

Clown   'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be
        constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

SIR ANDREW      'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to
        call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.'

Clown   I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

SIR ANDREW      Good, i' faith. Come, begin.

        [Catch sung]

        [Enter MARIA]

MARIA   What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady
        have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him
        turn you out of doors, never trust me.

SIR TOBY BELCH  My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
        a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not
        I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
        Tillyvally. Lady!

        [Sings]

        'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'

Clown   Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

SIR ANDREW      Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do
        I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it
        more natural.

SIR TOBY BELCH  [Sings]  'O, the twelfth day of December,'--

MARIA   For the love o' God, peace!

        [Enter MALVOLIO]

MALVOLIO        My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
        no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
        tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an
        alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your
        coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
        of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor
        time in you?

SIR TOBY BELCH  We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

MALVOLIO        Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me
        tell you, that, though she harbours you as her
        kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If
        you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you
        are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please
        you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid
        you farewell.

SIR TOBY BELCH  'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'

MARIA   Nay, good Sir Toby.

Clown   'His eyes do show his days are almost done.'

MALVOLIO        Is't even so?

SIR TOBY BELCH  'But I will never die.'

Clown   Sir Toby, there you lie.

MALVOLIO        This is much credit to you.

SIR TOBY BELCH  'Shall I bid him go?'

Clown   'What an if you do?'

SIR TOBY BELCH  'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'

Clown   'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'

SIR TOBY BELCH  Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a
        steward? Dost thou think, because thou art
        virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Clown   Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the
        mouth too.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
        crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

MALVOLIO        Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any
        thing more than contempt, you would not give means
        for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.

        [Exit]

MARIA   Go shake your ears.

SIR ANDREW      'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's
        a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to
        break promise with him and make a fool of him.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll
        deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

MARIA   Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the
        youth of the count's was today with thy lady, she is
        much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me
        alone with him: if I do not gull him into a
        nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not
        think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:
        I know I can do it.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.

MARIA   Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

SIR ANDREW      O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!

SIR TOBY BELCH  What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
        dear knight?

SIR ANDREW      I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason
        good enough.

MARIA   The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
        constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass,
        that cons state without book and utters it by great
        swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so
        crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is
        his grounds of faith that all that look on him love
        him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find
        notable cause to work.

SIR TOBY BELCH  What wilt thou do?

MARIA   I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
        love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
        of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure
        of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find
        himself most feelingly personated. I can write very
        like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we
        can hardly make distinction of our hands.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Excellent! I smell a device.

SIR ANDREW      I have't in my nose too.

SIR TOBY BELCH  He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
        that they come from my niece, and that she's in
        love with him.

MARIA   My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.

SIR ANDREW      And your horse now would make him an ass.

MARIA   Ass, I doubt not.

SIR ANDREW      O, 'twill be admirable!

MARIA   Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will
        work with him. I will plant you two, and let the
        fool make a third, where he shall find the letter:
        observe his construction of it. For this night, to
        bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.

        [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Good night, Penthesilea.

SIR ANDREW      Before me, she's a good wench.

SIR TOBY BELCH  She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me:
        what o' that?

SIR ANDREW      I was adored once too.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for
        more money.

SIR ANDREW      If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
        the end, call me cut.

SIR ANDREW      If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late
        to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE IV        DUKE ORSINO's palace.


        [Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and others]

DUKE ORSINO     Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
        Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
        That old and antique song we heard last night:
        Methought it did relieve my passion much,
        More than light airs and recollected terms
        Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
        Come, but one verse.

CURIO   He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.

DUKE ORSINO     Who was it?

CURIO   Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady
        Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house.

DUKE ORSINO     Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

        [Exit CURIO. Music plays]

        Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,
        In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
        For such as I am all true lovers are,
        Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
        Save in the constant image of the creature
        That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?

VIOLA   It gives a very echo to the seat
        Where Love is throned.

DUKE ORSINO     Thou dost speak masterly:
        My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
        Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
        Hath it not, boy?

VIOLA                     A little, by your favour.

DUKE ORSINO     What kind of woman is't?

VIOLA   Of your complexion.

DUKE ORSINO     She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?

VIOLA   About your years, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO     Too old by heaven: let still the woman take
        An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
        So sways she level in her husband's heart:
        For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
        Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
        More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
        Than women's are.

VIOLA                     I think it well, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO     Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
        Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
        For women are as roses, whose fair flower
        Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

VIOLA   And so they are: alas, that they are so;
        To die, even when they to perfection grow!

        [Re-enter CURIO and Clown]

DUKE ORSINO     O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
        Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
        The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
        And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
        Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
        And dallies with the innocence of love,
        Like the old age.

Clown   Are you ready, sir?

DUKE ORSINO     Ay; prithee, sing.

        [Music]

        SONG.
Clown   Come away, come away, death,
        And in sad cypress let me be laid;
        Fly away, fly away breath;
        I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
        My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
        O, prepare it!
        My part of death, no one so true
        Did share it.
        Not a flower, not a flower sweet
        On my black coffin let there be strown;
        Not a friend, not a friend greet
        My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
        A thousand thousand sighs to save,
        Lay me, O, where
        Sad true lover never find my grave,
        To weep there!

DUKE ORSINO     There's for thy pains.

Clown   No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir.

DUKE ORSINO     I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clown   Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

DUKE ORSINO     Give me now leave to leave thee.

Clown   Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
        tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for
        thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such
        constancy put to sea, that their business might be
        every thing and their intent every where; for that's
        it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

        [Exit]

DUKE ORSINO     Let all the rest give place.

        [CURIO and Attendants retire]

                       Once more, Cesario,
        Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
        Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
        Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
        The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
        Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
        But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
        That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.

VIOLA   But if she cannot love you, sir?

DUKE ORSINO     I cannot be so answer'd.

VIOLA   Sooth, but you must.
        Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
        Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
        As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
        You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd?

DUKE ORSINO     There is no woman's sides
        Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
        As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
        So big, to hold so much; they lack retention
        Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
        No motion of the liver, but the palate,
        That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
        But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
        And can digest as much: make no compare
        Between that love a woman can bear me
        And that I owe Olivia.

VIOLA   Ay, but I know--

DUKE ORSINO     What dost thou know?

VIOLA   Too well what love women to men may owe:
        In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
        My father had a daughter loved a man,
        As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
        I should your lordship.

DUKE ORSINO     And what's her history?

VIOLA   A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
        But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
        Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
        And with a green and yellow melancholy
        She sat like patience on a monument,
        Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
        We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
        Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
        Much in our vows, but little in our love.

DUKE ORSINO     But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

VIOLA   I am all the daughters of my father's house,
        And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
        Sir, shall I to this lady?

DUKE ORSINO     Ay, that's the theme.
        To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
        My love can give no place, bide no denay.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE V OLIVIA's garden.


        [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

FABIAN  Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport,
        let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly
        rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

FABIAN  I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o'
        favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.

SIR TOBY BELCH  To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will
        fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?

SIR ANDREW      An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Here comes the little villain.

        [Enter MARIA]

        How now, my metal of India!

MARIA   Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's
        coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the
        sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half
        hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I
        know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of
        him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there,

        [Throws down a letter]

        for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.

        [Exit]

        [Enter MALVOLIO]

MALVOLIO        'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
        me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come
        thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one
        of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more
        exalted respect than any one else that follows her.
        What should I think on't?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Here's an overweening rogue!

FABIAN  O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock
        of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!

SIR ANDREW      'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Peace, I say.

MALVOLIO        To be Count Malvolio!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Ah, rogue!

SIR ANDREW      Pistol him, pistol him.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Peace, peace!

MALVOLIO        There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy
        married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

SIR ANDREW      Fie on him, Jezebel!

FABIAN  O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how
        imagination blows him.

MALVOLIO        Having been three months married to her, sitting in
        my state,--

SIR TOBY BELCH  O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!

MALVOLIO        Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet
        gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left
        Olivia sleeping,--

SIR TOBY BELCH  Fire and brimstone!

FABIAN  O, peace, peace!

MALVOLIO        And then to have the humour of state; and after a
        demure travel of regard, telling them I know my
        place as I would they should do theirs, to for my
        kinsman Toby,--

SIR TOBY BELCH  Bolts and shackles!

FABIAN  O peace, peace, peace! now, now.

MALVOLIO        Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make
        out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind
        up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby
        approaches; courtesies there to me,--

SIR TOBY BELCH  Shall this fellow live?

FABIAN  Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.

MALVOLIO        I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar
        smile with an austere regard of control,--

SIR TOBY BELCH  And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?

MALVOLIO        Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on
        your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'--

SIR TOBY BELCH  What, what?

MALVOLIO        'You must amend your drunkenness.'

SIR TOBY BELCH  Out, scab!

FABIAN  Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.

MALVOLIO        'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with
        a foolish knight,'--

SIR ANDREW      That's me, I warrant you.

MALVOLIO        'One Sir Andrew,'--

SIR ANDREW      I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.

MALVOLIO        What employment have we here?

        [Taking up the letter]

FABIAN  Now is the woodcock near the gin.

SIR TOBY BELCH  O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading
        aloud to him!

MALVOLIO        By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her
        very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her
        great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

SIR ANDREW      Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that?

MALVOLIO        [Reads]  'To the unknown beloved, this, and my good
        wishes:'--her very phrases! By your leave, wax.
        Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she
        uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?

FABIAN  This wins him, liver and all.

MALVOLIO        [Reads]

        Jove knows I love: But who?
        Lips, do not move;
        No man must know.
        'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers
        altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be
        thee, Malvolio?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Marry, hang thee, brock!

MALVOLIO        [Reads]
        I may command where I adore;
        But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
        With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:
        M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.

FABIAN  A fustian riddle!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Excellent wench, say I.

MALVOLIO        'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let
        me see, let me see, let me see.

FABIAN  What dish o' poison has she dressed him!

SIR TOBY BELCH  And with what wing the staniel cheques at it!

MALVOLIO        'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command
        me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is
        evident to any formal capacity; there is no
        obstruction in this: and the end,--what should
        that alphabetical position portend? If I could make
        that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A,
        I,--

SIR TOBY BELCH  O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent.

FABIAN  Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as
        rank as a fox.

MALVOLIO        M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name.

FABIAN  Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is
        excellent at faults.

MALVOLIO        M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel;
        that suffers under probation A should follow but O does.

FABIAN  And O shall end, I hope.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!

MALVOLIO        And then I comes behind.

FABIAN  Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see
        more detraction at your heels than fortunes before
        you.

MALVOLIO        M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and
        yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for
        every one of these letters are in my name. Soft!
        here follows prose.

        [Reads]

        'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I
        am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some
        are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
        have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open
        their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them;
        and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be,
        cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be
        opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let
        thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into
        the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee
        that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy
        yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever
        cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art
        made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see
        thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and
        not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell.
        She that would alter services with thee,
                         THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.'
        Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is
        open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors,
        I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross
        acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man.
        I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade
        me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady
        loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of
        late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered;
        and in this she manifests herself to my love, and
        with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits
        of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will
        be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and
        cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting
        on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
        postscript.

        [Reads]

        'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
        entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling;
        thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my
        presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.'
        Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do
        everything that thou wilt have me.

        [Exit]

FABIAN  I will not give my part of this sport for a pension
        of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

SIR TOBY BELCH  I could marry this wench for this device.

SIR ANDREW      So could I too.

SIR TOBY BELCH  And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.

SIR ANDREW      Nor I neither.

FABIAN  Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

        [Re-enter MARIA]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?

SIR ANDREW      Or o' mine either?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy
        bond-slave?

SIR ANDREW      I' faith, or I either?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when
        the image of it leaves him he must run mad.

MARIA   Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

MARIA   If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark
        his first approach before my lady: he will come to
        her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she
        abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;
        and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
        unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a
        melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him
        into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow
        me.

SIR TOBY BELCH  To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

SIR ANDREW      I'll make one too.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT III



SCENE I OLIVIA's garden.


        [Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabour]

VIOLA   Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
        thy tabour?

Clown   No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA   Art thou a churchman?

Clown   No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for
        I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by
        the church.

VIOLA   So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a
        beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy
        tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.

Clown   You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is
        but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the
        wrong side may be turned outward!

VIOLA   Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with
        words may quickly make them wanton.

Clown   I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.

VIOLA   Why, man?

Clown   Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that
        word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words
        are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.

VIOLA   Thy reason, man?

Clown   Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and
        words are grown so false, I am loath to prove
        reason with them.

VIOLA   I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.

Clown   Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my
        conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be
        to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

VIOLA   Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?

Clown   No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she
        will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and
        fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to
        herrings; the husband's the bigger: I am indeed not
        her fool, but her corrupter of words.

VIOLA   I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.

Clown   Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun,
        it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but
        the fool should be as oft with your master as with
        my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.

VIOLA   Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
        Hold, there's expenses for thee.

Clown   Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

VIOLA   By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for
        one;

        [Aside]

        though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy
        lady within?

Clown   Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?

VIOLA   Yes, being kept together and put to use.

Clown   I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring
        a Cressida to this Troilus.

VIOLA   I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.

Clown   The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but
        a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is
        within, sir. I will construe to them whence you
        come; who you are and what you would are out of my
        welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn.

        [Exit]

VIOLA   This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
        And to do that well craves a kind of wit:
        He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
        The quality of persons, and the time,
        And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather
        That comes before his eye. This is a practise
        As full of labour as a wise man's art
        For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
        But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

        [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Save you, gentleman.

VIOLA   And you, sir.

SIR ANDREW      Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

VIOLA   Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.

SIR ANDREW      I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous
        you should enter, if your trade be to her.

VIOLA   I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
        list of my voyage.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.

VIOLA   My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
        understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

SIR TOBY BELCH  I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

VIOLA   I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we
        are prevented.

        [Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]

        Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
        odours on you!

SIR ANDREW      That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well.

VIOLA   My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant
        and vouchsafed ear.

SIR ANDREW      'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em
        all three all ready.

OLIVIA  Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.

        [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA]

        Give me your hand, sir.

VIOLA   My duty, madam, and most humble service.

OLIVIA  What is your name?

VIOLA   Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

OLIVIA  My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world
        Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
        You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

VIOLA   And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
        Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

OLIVIA  For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
        Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!

VIOLA   Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
        On his behalf.

OLIVIA                    O, by your leave, I pray you,
        I bade you never speak again of him:
        But, would you undertake another suit,
        I had rather hear you to solicit that
        Than music from the spheres.

VIOLA   Dear lady,--

OLIVIA  Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
        After the last enchantment you did here,
        A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
        Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you:
        Under your hard construction must I sit,
        To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
        Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?
        Have you not set mine honour at the stake
        And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
        That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
        Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
        Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak.

VIOLA   I pity you.

OLIVIA            That's a degree to love.

VIOLA   No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
        That very oft we pity enemies.

OLIVIA  Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.
        O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
        If one should be a prey, how much the better
        To fall before the lion than the wolf!

        [Clock strikes]

        The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
        Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
        And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
        Your were is alike to reap a proper man:
        There lies your way, due west.

VIOLA   Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
        Attend your ladyship!
        You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

OLIVIA  Stay:
        I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.

VIOLA   That you do think you are not what you are.

OLIVIA  If I think so, I think the same of you.

VIOLA   Then think you right: I am not what I am.

OLIVIA  I would you were as I would have you be!

VIOLA   Would it be better, madam, than I am?
        I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

OLIVIA  O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
        In the contempt and anger of his lip!
        A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
        Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
        Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
        By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing,
        I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
        Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
        Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
        For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause,
        But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
        Love sought is good, but given unsought better.

VIOLA   By innocence I swear, and by my youth
        I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
        And that no woman has; nor never none
        Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
        And so adieu, good madam: never more
        Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

OLIVIA  Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move
        That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT III



SCENE II        OLIVIA's house.


        [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN]

SIR ANDREW      No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

FABIAN  You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW      Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the
        count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me;
        I saw't i' the orchard.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that.

SIR ANDREW      As plain as I see you now.

FABIAN  This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

SIR ANDREW      'Slight, will you make an ass o' me?

FABIAN  I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of
        judgment and reason.

SIR TOBY BELCH  And they have been grand-jury-men since before Noah
        was a sailor.

FABIAN  She did show favour to the youth in your sight only
        to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to
        put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver.
        You should then have accosted her; and with some
        excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should
        have banged the youth into dumbness. This was
        looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the
        double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash
        off, and you are now sailed into the north of my
        lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle
        on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by
        some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.

SIR ANDREW      An't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy
        I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a
        politician.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of
        valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight
        with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall
        take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no
        love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's
        commendation with woman than report of valour.

FABIAN  There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW      Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief;
        it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun
        of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink:
        if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be
        amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of
        paper, although the sheet were big enough for the
        bed of Ware in England, set 'em down: go, about it.
        Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou
        write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it.

SIR ANDREW      Where shall I find you?

SIR TOBY BELCH  We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go.

        [Exit SIR ANDREW]

FABIAN  This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY BELCH  I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand
        strong, or so.

FABIAN  We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll
        not deliver't?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the
        youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes
        cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were
        opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as
        will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of
        the anatomy.

FABIAN  And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no
        great presage of cruelty.

        [Enter MARIA]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes.

MARIA   If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself
        into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is
        turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no
        Christian, that means to be saved by believing
        rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages
        of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.

SIR TOBY BELCH  And cross-gartered?

MARIA   Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school
        i' the church. I have dogged him, like his
        murderer. He does obey every point of the letter
        that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his
        face into more lines than is in the new map with the
        augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such
        a thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things
        at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she do,
        he'll smile and take't for a great favour.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come, bring us, bring us where he is.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT III



SCENE III       A street.


        [Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO]

SEBASTIAN       I would not by my will have troubled you;
        But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
        I will no further chide you.

ANTONIO I could not stay behind you: my desire,
        More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
        And not all love to see you, though so much
        As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,
        But jealousy what might befall your travel,
        Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,
        Unguided and unfriended, often prove
        Rough and unhospitable: my willing love,
        The rather by these arguments of fear,
        Set forth in your pursuit.

SEBASTIAN       My kind Antonio,
        I can no other answer make but thanks,
        And thanks; and ever [         ] oft good turns
        Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
        But, were my worth as is my conscience firm,
        You should find better dealing. What's to do?
        Shall we go see the reliques of this town?

ANTONIO To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging.

SEBASTIAN       I am not weary, and 'tis long to night:
        I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
        With the memorials and the things of fame
        That do renown this city.

ANTONIO Would you'ld pardon me;
        I do not without danger walk these streets:
        Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys
        I did some service; of such note indeed,
        That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd.

SEBASTIAN       Belike you slew great number of his people.

ANTONIO The offence is not of such a bloody nature;
        Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel
        Might well have given us bloody argument.
        It might have since been answer'd in repaying
        What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake,
        Most of our city did: only myself stood out;
        For which, if I be lapsed in this place,
        I shall pay dear.

SEBASTIAN                         Do not then walk too open.

ANTONIO It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse.
        In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
        Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
        Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge
        With viewing of the town: there shall you have me.

SEBASTIAN       Why I your purse?

ANTONIO Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
        You have desire to purchase; and your store,
        I think, is not for idle markets, sir.

SEBASTIAN       I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you
        For an hour.

ANTONIO To the Elephant.

SEBASTIAN                         I do remember.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT III



SCENE IV        OLIVIA's garden.


        [Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]

OLIVIA  I have sent after him: he says he'll come;
        How shall I feast him? what bestow of him?
        For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd.
        I speak too loud.
        Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil,
        And suits well for a servant with my fortunes:
        Where is Malvolio?

MARIA   He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He
        is, sure, possessed, madam.

OLIVIA  Why, what's the matter? does he rave?

MARIA   No. madam, he does nothing but smile: your
        ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if
        he come; for, sure, the man is tainted in's wits.

OLIVIA  Go call him hither.

        [Exit MARIA]

        I am as mad as he,
        If sad and merry madness equal be.

        [Re-enter MARIA, with MALVOLIO]

        How now, Malvolio!

MALVOLIO        Sweet lady, ho, ho.

OLIVIA  Smilest thou?
        I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

MALVOLIO        Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does make some
        obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but
        what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is
        with me as the very true sonnet is, 'Please one, and
        please all.'

OLIVIA  Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?

MALVOLIO        Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It
        did come to his hands, and commands shall be
        executed: I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

OLIVIA  Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO        To bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee.

OLIVIA  God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so and kiss
        thy hand so oft?

MARIA   How do you, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO        At your request! yes; nightingales answer daws.

MARIA   Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

MALVOLIO        'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas well writ.

OLIVIA  What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO        'Some are born great,'--

OLIVIA  Ha!

MALVOLIO        'Some achieve greatness,'--

OLIVIA  What sayest thou?

MALVOLIO        'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'

OLIVIA  Heaven restore thee!

MALVOLIO        'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,'--

OLIVIA  Thy yellow stockings!

MALVOLIO        'And wished to see thee cross-gartered.'

OLIVIA  Cross-gartered!

MALVOLIO        'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so;'--

OLIVIA  Am I made?

MALVOLIO        'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'

OLIVIA  Why, this is very midsummer madness.

        [Enter Servant]

Servant Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is
        returned: I could hardly entreat him back: he
        attends your ladyship's pleasure.

OLIVIA  I'll come to him.

        [Exit Servant]

        Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's
        my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special
        care of him: I would not have him miscarry for the
        half of my dowry.

        [Exeunt OLIVIA and MARIA]

MALVOLIO        O, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than
        Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with
        the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may
        appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that
        in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says she;
        'be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants;
        let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put
        thyself into the trick of singularity;' and
        consequently sets down the manner how; as, a sad
        face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the
        habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have
        limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me
        thankful! And when she went away now, 'Let this
        fellow be looked to:' fellow! not Malvolio, nor
        after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing
        adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no
        scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous
        or unsafe circumstance--What can be said? Nothing
        that can be can come between me and the full
        prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the
        doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

        [Re-enter MARIA, with SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all
        the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion
        himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.

FABIAN  Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir?
        how is't with you, man?

MALVOLIO        Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private: go
        off.

MARIA   Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not
        I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a
        care of him.

MALVOLIO        Ah, ha! does she so?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently
        with him: let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how
        is't with you? What, man! defy the devil:
        consider, he's an enemy to mankind.

MALVOLIO        Do you know what you say?

MARIA   La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes
        it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched!

FABIAN  Carry his water to the wise woman.

MARIA   Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I
        live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.

MALVOLIO        How now, mistress!

MARIA   O Lord!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: do
        you not see you move him? let me alone with him.

FABIAN  No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is
        rough, and will not be roughly used.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck?

MALVOLIO        Sir!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for
        gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: hang
        him, foul collier!

MARIA   Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.

MALVOLIO        My prayers, minx!

MARIA   No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.

MALVOLIO        Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow
        things: I am not of your element: you shall know
        more hereafter.

        [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Is't possible?

FABIAN  If this were played upon a stage now, I could
        condemn it as an improbable fiction.

SIR TOBY BELCH  His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.

MARIA   Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.

FABIAN  Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

MARIA   The house will be the quieter.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My
        niece is already in the belief that he's mad: we
        may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance,
        till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt
        us to have mercy on him: at which time we will
        bring the device to the bar and crown thee for a
        finder of madmen. But see, but see.

        [Enter SIR ANDREW]

FABIAN  More matter for a May morning.

SIR ANDREW      Here's the challenge, read it: warrant there's
        vinegar and pepper in't.

FABIAN  Is't so saucy?

SIR ANDREW      Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but read.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Give me.

        [Reads]

        'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.'

FABIAN  Good, and valiant.

SIR TOBY BELCH  [Reads]  'Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind,
        why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.'

FABIAN  A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law.

SIR TOBY BELCH  [Reads]  'Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my
        sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy
        throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for.'

FABIAN  Very brief, and to exceeding good sense--less.

SIR TOBY BELCH  [Reads]  'I will waylay thee going home; where if it
        be thy chance to kill me,'--

FABIAN  Good.

SIR TOBY BELCH  [Reads]  'Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.'

FABIAN  Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: good.

SIR TOBY BELCH  [Reads]  'Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon
        one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but
        my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy
        friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy,
                                  ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
        If this letter move him not, his legs cannot:
        I'll give't him.

MARIA   You may have very fit occasion for't: he is now in
        some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner the
        orchard like a bum-baily: so soon as ever thou seest
        him, draw; and, as thou drawest swear horrible; for
        it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a
        swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood
        more approbation than ever proof itself would have
        earned him. Away!

SIR ANDREW      Nay, let me alone for swearing.

        [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behavior
        of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good
        capacity and breeding; his employment between his
        lord and my niece confirms no less: therefore this
        letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no
        terror in the youth: he will find it comes from a
        clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by
        word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable report
        of valour; and drive the gentleman, as I know his
        youth will aptly receive it, into a most hideous
        opinion of his rage, skill, fury and impetuosity.
        This will so fright them both that they will kill
        one another by the look, like cockatrices.

        [Re-enter OLIVIA, with VIOLA]

FABIAN  Here he comes with your niece: give them way till
        he take leave, and presently after him.

SIR TOBY BELCH  I will meditate the while upon some horrid message
        for a challenge.

        [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, FABIAN, and MARIA]

OLIVIA  I have said too much unto a heart of stone
        And laid mine honour too unchary out:
        There's something in me that reproves my fault;
        But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
        That it but mocks reproof.

VIOLA   With the same 'havior that your passion bears
        Goes on my master's grief.

OLIVIA  Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
        Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you;
        And I beseech you come again to-morrow.
        What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,
        That honour saved may upon asking give?

VIOLA   Nothing but this; your true love for my master.

OLIVIA  How with mine honour may I give him that
        Which I have given to you?

VIOLA   I will acquit you.

OLIVIA  Well, come again to-morrow: fare thee well:
        A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.

        [Exit]

        [Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Gentleman, God save thee.

VIOLA   And you, sir.

SIR TOBY BELCH  That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what
        nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know
        not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as
        the hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end:
        dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for
        thy assailant is quick, skilful and deadly.

VIOLA   You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel
        to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from
        any image of offence done to any man.

SIR TOBY BELCH  You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore,
        if you hold your life at any price, betake you to
        your guard; for your opposite hath in him what
        youth, strength, skill and wrath can furnish man withal.

VIOLA   I pray you, sir, what is he?

SIR TOBY BELCH  He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier and on
        carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private
        brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and
        his incensement at this moment is so implacable,
        that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death
        and sepulchre. Hob, nob, is his word; give't or take't.

VIOLA   I will return again into the house and desire some
        conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard
        of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on
        others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man
        of that quirk.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a
        very competent injury: therefore, get you on and
        give him his desire. Back you shall not to the
        house, unless you undertake that with me which with
        as much safety you might answer him: therefore, on,
        or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you
        must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.

VIOLA   This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me
        this courteous office, as to know of the knight what
        my offence to him is: it is something of my
        negligence, nothing of my purpose.

SIR TOBY BELCH  I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this
        gentleman till my return.

        [Exit]

VIOLA   Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?

FABIAN  I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a
        mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more.

VIOLA   I beseech you, what manner of man is he?

FABIAN  Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by
        his form, as you are like to find him in the proof
        of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful,
        bloody and fatal opposite that you could possibly
        have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk
        towards him? I will make your peace with him if I
        can.

VIOLA   I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one that
        had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I
        care not who knows so much of my mettle.

        [Exeunt]

        [Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH, with SIR ANDREW]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a
        firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard and
        all, and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal
        motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he
        pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they
        step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.

SIR ANDREW      Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can
        scarce hold him yonder.

SIR ANDREW      Plague on't, an I thought he had been valiant and so
        cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld
        have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip,
        and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

SIR TOBY BELCH  I'll make the motion: stand here, make a good show
        on't: this shall end without the perdition of souls.

        [Aside]

        Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

        [Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA]

        [To FABIAN]

        I have his horse to take up the quarrel:
        I have persuaded him the youth's a devil.

FABIAN  He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and
        looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

SIR TOBY BELCH  [To VIOLA]  There's no remedy, sir; he will fight
        with you for's oath sake: marry, he hath better
        bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now
        scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for
        the supportance of his vow; he protests he will not hurt you.

VIOLA   [Aside]  Pray God defend me! A little thing would
        make me tell them how much I lack of a man.

FABIAN  Give ground, if you see him furious.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman
        will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you;
        he cannot by the duello avoid it: but he has
        promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he
        will not hurt you. Come on; to't.

SIR ANDREW      Pray God, he keep his oath!

VIOLA   I do assure you, 'tis against my will.

        [They draw]

        [Enter ANTONIO]

ANTONIO Put up your sword. If this young gentleman
        Have done offence, I take the fault on me:
        If you offend him, I for him defy you.

SIR TOBY BELCH  You, sir! why, what are you?

ANTONIO One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more
        Than you have heard him brag to you he will.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

        [They draw]

        [Enter Officers]

FABIAN  O good Sir Toby, hold! here come the officers.

SIR TOBY BELCH  I'll be with you anon.

VIOLA   Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.

SIR ANDREW      Marry, will I, sir; and, for that I promised you,
        I'll be as good as my word: he will bear you easily
        and reins well.

First Officer   This is the man; do thy office.

Second Officer  Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino.

ANTONIO You do mistake me, sir.

First Officer   No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well,
        Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.
        Take him away: he knows I know him well.

ANTONIO I must obey.

        [To VIOLA]

        This comes with seeking you:
        But there's no remedy; I shall answer it.
        What will you do, now my necessity
        Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me
        Much more for what I cannot do for you
        Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed;
        But be of comfort.

Second Officer  Come, sir, away.

ANTONIO I must entreat of you some of that money.

VIOLA   What money, sir?
        For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
        And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
        Out of my lean and low ability
        I'll lend you something: my having is not much;
        I'll make division of my present with you:
        Hold, there's half my coffer.

ANTONIO Will you deny me now?
        Is't possible that my deserts to you
        Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,
        Lest that it make me so unsound a man
        As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
        That I have done for you.

VIOLA   I know of none;
        Nor know I you by voice or any feature:
        I hate ingratitude more in a man
        Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
        Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption
        Inhabits our frail blood.

ANTONIO O heavens themselves!

Second Officer  Come, sir, I pray you, go.

ANTONIO Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here
        I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death,
        Relieved him with such sanctity of love,
        And to his image, which methought did promise
        Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

First Officer   What's that to us? The time goes by: away!

ANTONIO But O how vile an idol proves this god
        Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
        In nature there's no blemish but the mind;
        None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind:
        Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil
        Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil.

First Officer   The man grows mad: away with him! Come, come, sir.

ANTONIO Lead me on.

        [Exit with Officers]

VIOLA   Methinks his words do from such passion fly,
        That he believes himself: so do not I.
        Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
        That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian: we'll
        whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.

VIOLA   He named Sebastian: I my brother know
        Yet living in my glass; even such and so
        In favour was my brother, and he went
        Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
        For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
        Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love.

        [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH  A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than
        a hare: his dishonesty appears in leaving his
        friend here in necessity and denying him; and for
        his cowardship, ask Fabian.

FABIAN  A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.

SIR ANDREW      'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

SIR ANDREW      An I do not,--

FABIAN  Come, let's see the event.

SIR TOBY BELCH  I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT IV



SCENE I Before OLIVIA's house.


        [Enter SEBASTIAN and Clown]

Clown   Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?

SEBASTIAN       Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow:
        Let me be clear of thee.

Clown   Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor
        I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come
        speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario;
        nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so.

SEBASTIAN       I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else: Thou
        know'st not me.

Clown   Vent my folly! he has heard that word of some
        great man and now applies it to a fool. Vent my
        folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world,
        will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird thy
        strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my
        lady: shall I vent to her that thou art coming?

SEBASTIAN       I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me: There's
        money for thee: if you tarry longer, I shall give
        worse payment.

Clown   By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men
        that give fools money get themselves a good
        report--after fourteen years' purchase.

        [Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY BELCH, and FABIAN]

SIR ANDREW      Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you.

SEBASTIAN       Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. Are all
        the people mad?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

Clown   This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be
        in some of your coats for two pence.

        [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come on, sir; hold.

SIR ANDREW      Nay, let him alone: I'll go another way to work
        with him; I'll have an action of battery against
        him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I
        struck him first, yet it's no matter for that.

SEBASTIAN       Let go thy hand.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young
        soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.

SEBASTIAN       I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If
        thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.

SIR TOBY BELCH  What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two
        of this malapert blood from you.

        [Enter OLIVIA]

OLIVIA  Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge thee, hold!

SIR TOBY BELCH  Madam!

OLIVIA  Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,
        Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,
        Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight!
        Be not offended, dear Cesario.
        Rudesby, be gone!

        [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN]

        I prithee, gentle friend,
        Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
        In this uncivil and thou unjust extent
        Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
        And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
        This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
        Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go:
        Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me,
        He started one poor heart of mine in thee.

SEBASTIAN       What relish is in this? how runs the stream?
        Or I am mad, or else this is a dream:
        Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
        If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

OLIVIA  Nay, come, I prithee; would thou'ldst be ruled by me!

SEBASTIAN       Madam, I will.

OLIVIA                    O, say so, and so be!

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT IV



SCENE II        OLIVIA's house.


        [Enter MARIA and Clown]

MARIA   Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard;
        make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do
        it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst.

        [Exit]

Clown   Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself
        in't; and I would I were the first that ever
        dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to
        become the function well, nor lean enough to be
        thought a good student; but to be said an honest man
        and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a
        careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter.

        [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]

SIR TOBY BELCH  Jove bless thee, master Parson.

Clown   Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of
        Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily
        said to a niece of King Gorboduc, 'That that is is;'
        so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for,
        what is 'that' but 'that,' and 'is' but 'is'?

SIR TOBY BELCH  To him, Sir Topas.

Clown   What, ho, I say! peace in this prison!

SIR TOBY BELCH  The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

MALVOLIO        [Within]  Who calls there?

Clown   Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio
        the lunatic.

MALVOLIO        Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

Clown   Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man!
        talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

SIR TOBY BELCH  Well said, Master Parson.

MALVOLIO        Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir
        Topas, do not think I am mad: they have laid me
        here in hideous darkness.

Clown   Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most
        modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones
        that will use the devil himself with courtesy:
        sayest thou that house is dark?

MALVOLIO        As hell, Sir Topas.

Clown   Why it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes,
        and the clearstores toward the south north are as
        lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of
        obstruction?

MALVOLIO        I am not mad, Sir Topas: I say to you, this house is dark.

Clown   Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness
        but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than
        the Egyptians in their fog.

MALVOLIO        I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though
        ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there
        was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you
        are: make the trial of it in any constant question.

Clown   What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?

MALVOLIO        That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

Clown   What thinkest thou of his opinion?

MALVOLIO        I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.

Clown   Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness:
        thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will
        allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock, lest
        thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.

MALVOLIO        Sir Topas, Sir Topas!

SIR TOBY BELCH  My most exquisite Sir Topas!

Clown   Nay, I am for all waters.

MARIA   Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and
        gown: he sees thee not.

SIR TOBY BELCH  To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how
        thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this
        knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I
        would he were, for I am now so far in offence with
        my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this
        sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber.

        [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]

Clown   [Singing]

        'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
        Tell me how thy lady does.'

MALVOLIO        Fool!

Clown   'My lady is unkind, perdy.'

MALVOLIO        Fool!

Clown   'Alas, why is she so?'

MALVOLIO        Fool, I say!

Clown   'She loves another'--Who calls, ha?

MALVOLIO        Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my
        hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper:
        as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to
        thee for't.

Clown   Master Malvolio?

MALVOLIO        Ay, good fool.

Clown   Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?

MALVOLIO        Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused: I
        am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

Clown   But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no
        better in your wits than a fool.

MALVOLIO        They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness,
        send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to
        face me out of my wits.

Clown   Advise you what you say; the minister is here.
        Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore!
        endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain
        bibble babble.

MALVOLIO        Sir Topas!

Clown   Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I,
        sir? not I, sir. God be wi' you, good Sir Topas.
        Merry, amen. I will, sir, I will.

MALVOLIO        Fool, fool, fool, I say!

Clown   Alas, sir, be patient. What say you sir? I am
        shent for speaking to you.

MALVOLIO        Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: I
        tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.

Clown   Well-a-day that you were, sir

MALVOLIO        By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper and
        light; and convey what I will set down to my lady:
        it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing
        of letter did.

Clown   I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you
        not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit?

MALVOLIO        Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.

Clown   Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his
        brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink.

MALVOLIO        Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I
        prithee, be gone.

Clown   [Singing]

        I am gone, sir,
        And anon, sir,
        I'll be with you again,
        In a trice,
        Like to the old Vice,
        Your need to sustain;
        Who, with dagger of lath,
        In his rage and his wrath,
        Cries, ah, ha! to the devil:
        Like a mad lad,
        Pare thy nails, dad;
        Adieu, good man devil.

        [Exit]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT IV



SCENE III       OLIVIA's garden.


        [Enter SEBASTIAN]

SEBASTIAN       This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
        This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't;
        And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
        Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then?
        I could not find him at the Elephant:
        Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
        That he did range the town to seek me out.
        His counsel now might do me golden service;
        For though my soul disputes well with my sense,
        That this may be some error, but no madness,
        Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
        So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
        That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
        And wrangle with my reason that persuades me
        To any other trust but that I am mad
        Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so,
        She could not sway her house, command her followers,
        Take and give back affairs and their dispatch
        With such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing
        As I perceive she does: there's something in't
        That is deceiveable. But here the lady comes.

        [Enter OLIVIA and Priest]

OLIVIA  Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well,
        Now go with me and with this holy man
        Into the chantry by: there, before him,
        And underneath that consecrated roof,
        Plight me the full assurance of your faith;
        That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
        May live at peace. He shall conceal it
        Whiles you are willing it shall come to note,
        What time we will our celebration keep
        According to my birth. What do you say?

SEBASTIAN       I'll follow this good man, and go with you;
        And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

OLIVIA  Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine,
        That they may fairly note this act of mine!

        [Exeunt]




        TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT V



SCENE I Before OLIVIA's house.


        [Enter Clown and FABIAN]

FABIAN  Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.

Clown   Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

FABIAN  Any thing.

Clown   Do not desire to see this letter.

FABIAN  This is, to give a dog, and in recompense desire my
        dog again.

        [Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and Lords]

DUKE ORSINO     Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Clown   Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings.

DUKE ORSINO     I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow?

Clown   Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse
        for my friends.

DUKE ORSINO     Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

Clown   No, sir, the worse.

DUKE ORSINO     How can that be?

Clown   Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me;
        now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by
        my foes, sir I profit in the knowledge of myself,
        and by my friends, I am abused: so that,
        conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives
        make your two affirmatives why then, the worse for
        my friends and the better for my foes.

DUKE ORSINO     Why, this is excellent.

Clown   By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be
        one of my friends.

DUKE ORSINO     Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there's gold.

Clown   But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would
        you could make it another.

DUKE ORSINO     O, you give me ill counsel.

Clown   Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once,
        and let your flesh and blood obey it.

DUKE ORSINO     Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a
        double-dealer: there's another.

Clown   Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old
        saying is, the third pays for all: the triplex,
        sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of
        Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind; one, two, three.

DUKE ORSINO     You can fool no more money out of me at this throw:
        if you will let your lady know I am here to speak
        with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake
        my bounty further.

Clown   Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come
        again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think
        that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness:
        but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I
        will awake it anon.

        [Exit]

VIOLA   Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.

        [Enter ANTONIO and Officers]

DUKE ORSINO     That face of his I do remember well;
        Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
        As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war:
        A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
        For shallow draught and bulk unprizable;
        With which such scathful grapple did he make
        With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
        That very envy and the tongue of loss
        Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter?

First Officer   Orsino, this is that Antonio
        That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy;
        And this is he that did the Tiger board,
        When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:
        Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,
        In private brabble did we apprehend him.

VIOLA   He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side;
        But in conclusion put strange speech upon me:
        I know not what 'twas but distraction.

DUKE ORSINO     Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief!
        What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies,
        Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,
        Hast made thine enemies?

ANTONIO Orsino, noble sir,
        Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me:
        Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,
        Though I confess, on base and ground enough,
        Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
        That most ingrateful boy there by your side,
        From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth
        Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:
        His life I gave him and did thereto add
        My love, without retention or restraint,
        All his in dedication; for his sake
        Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
        Into the danger of this adverse town;
        Drew to defend him when he was beset:
        Where being apprehended, his false cunning,
        Not meaning to partake with me in danger,
        Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
        And grew a twenty years removed thing
        While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
        Which I had recommended to his use
        Not half an hour before.

VIOLA   How can this be?

DUKE ORSINO     When came he to this town?

ANTONIO To-day, my lord; and for three months before,
        No interim, not a minute's vacancy,
        Both day and night did we keep company.

        [Enter OLIVIA and Attendants]

DUKE ORSINO     Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on earth.
        But for thee, fellow; fellow, thy words are madness:
        Three months this youth hath tended upon me;
        But more of that anon. Take him aside.

OLIVIA  What would my lord, but that he may not have,
        Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?
        Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

VIOLA   Madam!

DUKE ORSINO     Gracious Olivia,--

OLIVIA  What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord,--

VIOLA   My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.

OLIVIA  If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
        It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
        As howling after music.

DUKE ORSINO     Still so cruel?

OLIVIA  Still so constant, lord.

DUKE ORSINO     What, to perverseness? you uncivil lady,
        To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
        My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out
        That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?

OLIVIA  Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.

DUKE ORSINO     Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
        Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death,
        Kill what I love?--a savage jealousy
        That sometimes savours nobly. But hear me this:
        Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
        And that I partly know the instrument
        That screws me from my true place in your favour,
        Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still;
        But this your minion, whom I know you love,
        And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
        Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,
        Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.
        Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief:
        I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,
        To spite a raven's heart within a dove.

VIOLA   And I, most jocund, apt and willingly,
        To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

OLIVIA  Where goes Cesario?

VIOLA   After him I love
        More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
        More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
        If I do feign, you witnesses above
        Punish my life for tainting of my love!

OLIVIA  Ay me, detested! how am I beguiled!

VIOLA   Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

OLIVIA  Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long?
        Call forth the holy father.

DUKE ORSINO     Come, away!

OLIVIA  Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.

DUKE ORSINO     Husband!

OLIVIA         Ay, husband: can he that deny?

DUKE ORSINO     Her husband, sirrah!

VIOLA   No, my lord, not I.

OLIVIA  Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear
        That makes thee strangle thy propriety:
        Fear not, Cesario; take thy fortunes up;
        Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
        As great as that thou fear'st.

        [Enter Priest]

                         O, welcome, father!
        Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
        Here to unfold, though lately we intended
        To keep in darkness what occasion now
        Reveals before 'tis ripe, what thou dost know
        Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me.

Priest  A contract of eternal bond of love,
        Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
        Attested by the holy close of lips,
        Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
        And all the ceremony of this compact
        Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:
        Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave
        I have travell'd but two hours.

DUKE ORSINO     O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be
        When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?
        Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow,
        That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?
        Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet
        Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

VIOLA   My lord, I do protest--

OLIVIA  O, do not swear!
        Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

        [Enter SIR ANDREW]

SIR ANDREW      For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently
        to Sir Toby.

OLIVIA  What's the matter?

SIR ANDREW      He has broke my head across and has given Sir Toby
        a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your
        help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home.

OLIVIA  Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

SIR ANDREW      The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for
        a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

DUKE ORSINO     My gentleman, Cesario?

SIR ANDREW      'Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for
        nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do't
        by Sir Toby.

VIOLA   Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you:
        You drew your sword upon me without cause;
        But I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.

SIR ANDREW      If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I
        think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.

        [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and Clown]

        Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more:
        but if he had not been in drink, he would have
        tickled you othergates than he did.

DUKE ORSINO     How now, gentleman! how is't with you?

SIR TOBY BELCH  That's all one: has hurt me, and there's the end
        on't. Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot?

Clown   O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes
        were set at eight i' the morning.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I
        hate a drunken rogue.

OLIVIA  Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?

SIR ANDREW      I'll help you, Sir Toby, because well be dressed together.

SIR TOBY BELCH  Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a
        knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull!

OLIVIA  Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.

        [Exeunt Clown, FABIAN, SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW]

        [Enter SEBASTIAN]

SEBASTIAN       I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman:
        But, had it been the brother of my blood,
        I must have done no less with wit and safety.
        You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that
        I do perceive it hath offended you:
        Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
        We made each other but so late ago.

DUKE ORSINO     One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,
        A natural perspective, that is and is not!

SEBASTIAN       Antonio, O my dear Antonio!
        How have the hours rack'd and tortured me,
        Since I have lost thee!

ANTONIO Sebastian are you?

SEBASTIAN                         Fear'st thou that, Antonio?

ANTONIO How have you made division of yourself?
        An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
        Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

OLIVIA  Most wonderful!

SEBASTIAN       Do I stand there? I never had a brother;
        Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
        Of here and every where. I had a sister,
        Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd.
        Of charity, what kin are you to me?
        What countryman? what name? what parentage?

VIOLA   Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
        Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
        So went he suited to his watery tomb:
        If spirits can assume both form and suit
        You come to fright us.

SEBASTIAN       A spirit I am indeed;
        But am in that dimension grossly clad
        Which from the womb I did participate.
        Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
        I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
        And say 'Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!'

VIOLA   My father had a mole upon his brow.

SEBASTIAN       And so had mine.

VIOLA   And died that day when Viola from her birth
        Had number'd thirteen years.

SEBASTIAN       O, that record is lively in my soul!
        He finished indeed his mortal act
        That day that made my sister thirteen years.

VIOLA   If nothing lets to make us happy both
        But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
        Do not embrace me till each circumstance
        Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
        That I am Viola: which to confirm,
        I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
        Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
        I was preserved to serve this noble count.
        All the occurrence of my fortune since
        Hath been between this lady and this lord.

SEBASTIAN       [To OLIVIA]  So comes it, lady, you have been mistook:
        But nature to her bias drew in that.
        You would have been contracted to a maid;
        Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived,
        You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.

DUKE ORSINO     Be not amazed; right noble is his blood.
        If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
        I shall have share in this most happy wreck.

        [To VIOLA]

        Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times
        Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

VIOLA   And all those sayings will I overswear;
        And those swearings keep as true in soul
        As doth that orbed continent the fire
        That severs day from night.

DUKE ORSINO     Give me thy hand;
        And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.

VIOLA   The captain that did bring me first on shore
        Hath my maid's garments: he upon some action
        Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit,
        A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.

OLIVIA  He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio hither:
        And yet, alas, now I remember me,
        They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.

        [Re-enter Clown with a letter, and FABIAN]

        A most extracting frenzy of mine own
        From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.
        How does he, sirrah?

Clown   Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the staves's end as
        well as a man in his case may do: has here writ a
        letter to you; I should have given't you to-day
        morning, but as a madman's epistles are no gospels,
        so it skills not much when they are delivered.

OLIVIA  Open't, and read it.

Clown   Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers
        the madman.

        [Reads]

        'By the Lord, madam,'--

OLIVIA  How now! art thou mad?

Clown   No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship
        will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox.

OLIVIA  Prithee, read i' thy right wits.

Clown   So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to
        read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

OLIVIA  Read it you, sirrah.

        [To FABIAN]

FABIAN  [Reads]  'By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the
        world shall know it: though you have put me into
        darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over
        me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as
        your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced
        me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt
        not but to do myself much right, or you much shame.
        Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little
        unthought of and speak out of my injury.
                         THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO.'

OLIVIA  Did he write this?

Clown   Ay, madam.

DUKE ORSINO     This savours not much of distraction.

OLIVIA  See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.

        [Exit FABIAN]

        My lord so please you, these things further
        thought on,
        To think me as well a sister as a wife,
        One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you,
        Here at my house and at my proper cost.

DUKE ORSINO     Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.

        [To VIOLA]

        Your master quits you; and for your service done him,
        So much against the mettle of your sex,
        So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,
        And since you call'd me master for so long,
        Here is my hand: you shall from this time be
        Your master's mistress.

OLIVIA  A sister! you are she.

        [Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO]

DUKE ORSINO     Is this the madman?

OLIVIA  Ay, my lord, this same.
        How now, Malvolio!

MALVOLIO                          Madam, you have done me wrong,
        Notorious wrong.

OLIVIA                    Have I, Malvolio? no.

MALVOLIO        Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter.
        You must not now deny it is your hand:
        Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase;
        Or say 'tis not your seal, nor your invention:
        You can say none of this: well, grant it then
        And tell me, in the modesty of honour,
        Why you have given me such clear lights of favour,
        Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you,
        To put on yellow stockings and to frown
        Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people;
        And, acting this in an obedient hope,
        Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
        Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
        And made the most notorious geck and gull
        That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why.

OLIVIA  Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
        Though, I confess, much like the character
        But out of question 'tis Maria's hand.
        And now I do bethink me, it was she
        First told me thou wast mad; then camest in smiling,
        And in such forms which here were presupposed
        Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content:
        This practise hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee;
        But when we know the grounds and authors of it,
        Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
        Of thine own cause.

FABIAN  Good madam, hear me speak,
        And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come
        Taint the condition of this present hour,
        Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not,
        Most freely I confess, myself and Toby
        Set this device against Malvolio here,
        Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
        We had conceived against him: Maria writ
        The letter at Sir Toby's great importance;
        In recompense whereof he hath married her.
        How with a sportful malice it was follow'd,
        May rather pluck on laughter than revenge;
        If that the injuries be justly weigh'd
        That have on both sides pass'd.

OLIVIA  Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!

Clown   Why, 'some are born great, some achieve greatness,
        and some have greatness thrown upon them.' I was
        one, sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, sir; but
        that's all one. 'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad.'
        But do you remember? 'Madam, why laugh you at such
        a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagged:'
        and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

MALVOLIO        I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.

        [Exit]

OLIVIA  He hath been most notoriously abused.

DUKE ORSINO     Pursue him and entreat him to a peace:
        He hath not told us of the captain yet:
        When that is known and golden time convents,
        A solemn combination shall be made
        Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister,
        We will not part from hence. Cesario, come;
        For so you shall be, while you are a man;
        But when in other habits you are seen,
        Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen.

        [Exeunt all, except Clown]

Clown   [Sings]

        When that I was and a little tiny boy,
        With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
        A foolish thing was but a toy,
        For the rain it raineth every day.

        But when I came to man's estate,
        With hey, ho, &c.
        'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
        For the rain, &c.

        But when I came, alas! to wive,
        With hey, ho, &c.
        By swaggering could I never thrive,
        For the rain, &c.

        But when I came unto my beds,
        With hey, ho, &c.
        With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
        For the rain, &c.

        A great while ago the world begun,
        With hey, ho, &c.
        But that's all one, our play is done,
        And we'll strive to please you every day.

        [Exit]