SCENE IV.
The DUKE'S palace
Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and OTHERS
DUKE. 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. 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. 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 belov'd. How dost thou like this tune?
VIOLA. It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is thron'd.
DUKE. 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. What kind of woman is't?
VIOLA. Of your complexion.
DUKE. She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
VIOLA. About your years, my lord.
DUKE. 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 won,
Than women's are.
VIOLA. I think it well, my lord.
DUKE. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses, whose fair flow'r
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. 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. Ay; prithee, sing. [Music]
FESTE'S SONG
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. There's for thy pains.
CLOWN. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
DUKE. I'll pay thy pleasure, then.
CLOWN. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or
another.
DUKE. 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 everything, and their intent everywhere: for that's
it
that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Exit CLOWN
DUKE. Let all the rest give place.
Exeunt CURIO and ATTENDANTS
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. I cannot be so answer'd.
VIOLA. Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love as 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. 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. 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 lov'd a man,
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
DUKE. And what's her history?
VIOLA. A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pin'd 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. 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. Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste. Give her this jewel; say
My love can give no place, bide no denay. Exeunt
SCENE V.
OLIVIA'S garden
Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN
SIR TOBY. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
FABIAN. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport let
me be
boil'd to death with melancholy.
SIR TOBY. 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. To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will
fool
him black and blue- shall we not, Sir Andrew?
AGUECHEEK. And we do not, it is pity of our lives.
Enter MARIA
SIR TOBY. Here comes the little villain.
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 behaviour
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! [As the men hide she
drops
a letter] Lie thou there; 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. Here's an overweening rogue!
FABIAN. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of
him;
how he jets under his advanc'd plumes!
AGUECHEEK. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue-
SIR TOBY. Peace, I say.
MALVOLIO. To be Count Malvolio!
SIR TOBY. Ah, rogue!
AGUECHEEK. Pistol him, pistol him.
SIR TOBY. Peace, peace!
MALVOLIO. There is example for't: the Lady of the Strachy
married
the yeoman of the wardrobe.
AGUECHEEK. 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. O, for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye!
MALVOLIO. Calling my officers about me, in my branch'd velvet
gown,
having come from a day-bed- where I have left Olivia
sleeping-
SIR TOBY. 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 ask for my kinsman Toby-
SIR TOBY. 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 my watch, or
play
with my- some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to
me-
SIR TOBY. 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. 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. What, what?
MALVOLIO. 'You must amend your drunkenness'-
SIR TOBY. 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'-
AGUECHEEK. That's me, I warrant you.
MALVOLIO. 'One Sir Andrew.'
AGUECHEEK. 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. O, peace! And the spirit of humours 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.
AGUECHEEK. Her C's, her U's, and her T's. Why that?
MALVOLIO. [Reads] 'To the unknown belov'd, 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 alter'd!
'No man must know.' If this should be thee, Malvolio?
SIR TOBY. 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. 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 dress'd him!
SIR TOBY. And with what wing the staniel checks 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. 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. 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
wish'd to see thee ever cross-garter'd. I say, remember, Go
to,
thou art made, if thou desir'st 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 champain 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-garter'd; 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-garter'd, 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
entertain'st 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. I could marry this wench for this device.
AGUECHEEK. So could I too.
SIR TOBY. And ask no other dowry with her but such another
jest.
Enter MARIA
AGUECHEEK. Nor I neither.
FABIAN. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
SIR TOBY. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
AGUECHEEK. Or o' mine either?
SIR TOBY. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy
bond-slave?
AGUECHEEK. I' faith, or I either?
SIR TOBY. 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. Like aqua-vita! with a midwife.
AIARIA. 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-garter'd,
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. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of
wit!
AGUECHEEK. I'll make one too. Exeunt
<>
ACT III. SCENE I.
OLIVIA'S garden
Enter VIOLA, and CLOWN with a tabor
VIOLA. Save thee, friend, and thy music!
Dost thou live by thy tabor?
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 tabor, if thy
tabor
stand by the church.
CLOWN. You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a
chev'ril glove to a good wit. How quickly the wrong side may
be
turn'd 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 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 disgrac'd 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 car'st 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 pilchers 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 everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should
be
as oft with your master as with my mistress: 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. [Giving a coin]
CLOWN. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send the 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 begg'd.
[Giving another coin]
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 overworn.
Exit CLOWN
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, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice
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 and SIR ANDREW
SIR TOBY. Save you, gentleman!
VIOLA. And you, sir.
AGUECHEEK. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
VIOLA. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
AGUECHEEK. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
SIR TOBY. 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. 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. 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 accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odours on
you!
AGUECHEEK. That youth's a rare courtier- 'Rain odours' well!
VIOLA. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most
pregnant
and vouchsafed car.
AGUECHEEK. '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 all but OLIVIA and VIOLA] 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.
Y'are 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 th' unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
Hides 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 wife is like 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 think'st 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 murd'rous 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 is 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
SCENE II.
OLIVIA'S house
Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW and FABIAN
AGUECHEEK. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
SIR TOBY. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
FABIAN. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.
AGUECHEEK. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the
Count's
servingman than ever she bestow'd upon me; I saw't i' th'
orchard.
SIR TOBY. Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me that.
AGUECHEEK. As plain as I see you now.
FABIAN. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.
AGUECHEEK. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me?
FABIAN. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of
judgment
and reason.
SIR TOBY. And they have been grand-jurymen 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 bang'd the youth into dumbness. This
was
look'd for at your hand, and this was baulk'd. The double
gilt of
this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now
sail'd
into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like
an
icicle on Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some
laudable attempt either of valour or policy.
AGUECHEEK. 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. 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.
AGUECHEEK. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?
SIR TOBY. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief;
it is
no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention.
Taunt him with the license 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.
AGUECHEEK. Where shall I find you?
SIR TOBY. We'll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.
Exit SIR ANDREW
FABIAN. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY. 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. 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 open'd and you find so much
blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat
the
rest of th' anatomy.
FABIAN. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no
great
presage of cruelty.
Enter MARIA
SIR TOBY. Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.
MARIA. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves 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. And cross-garter'd?
MARIA. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i'
th'
church. I have dogg'd him like his murderer. He does obey
every
point of the letter that I dropp'd 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. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. Exeunt
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 thanks; and oft good turns
Are shuffl'd 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'd 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.Th' 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 th' Elephant.
SEBASTIAN. I do remember. Exeunt
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's 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 possess'd, 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. Smil'st 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, sweetheart, 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 mean'st thou by that, Malvolio?
AIALVOLIO. 'Some are born great,'-
OLIVIA. Ha?
MALVOLIO. 'Some achieve greatness,'-
OLIVIA. What say'st 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 wish'd to see thee cross-garterd.'
OLIVIA. 'Cross-garter'd?'
MALVOLIO. 'Go to, thou an made, if thou desir'st 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
return'd; 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 look'd 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 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 lim'd her; but it is
Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went
away
now- 'Let this fellow be look'd to.' 'Fellow,' not 'Malvolio'
nor
after my degree, but 'fellow.' Why, everything 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 and FABIAN
SIR TOBY. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the
devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself
possess'd
him, yet I'll speak to him.
FABIAN. Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir?
SIR TOBY. 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. 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 th' 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. 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 us'd.
SIR TOBY. Why, how now, my bawcock!
How dost thou, chuck?
MALVOLIO. Sir!
SIR TOBY. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man, 'tis not for
gravity
to play at cherrypit 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. Is't possible?
FABIAN. If this were play'd upon a stage now, I could condemn
it as
an improbable fiction.
SIR TOBY. 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. 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.
AGUECHEEK. Here's the challenge; read it. I warrant there's
vinegar
and pepper in't.
FABIAN. Is't so saucy?
AGUECHEEK. Ay, is't, I warrant him; do but read.
SIR TOBY. Give me. [Reads] 'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou
art
but a scurvy fellow.'
FABIAN. Good and valiant.
SIR TOBY. [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. [Reads] 'Thou com'st 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. [Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it
be
thy chance to kill me'-
FABIAN. Good.
SIR TOBY. 'Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.'
FABIAN. Still you keep o' th' windy side of the law. Good!
SIR TOBY. [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. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the
orchard, like a bum-baily; so soon as ever thou seest him,
draw;
and as thou draw'st, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft
that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply
twang'd
off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself
would
have earn'd him. Away.
AGUECHEEK. Nay, let me alone for swearing. Exit
SIR TOBY. Now will not I deliver his letter; for the behaviour
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 notable report of valour, and drive
the
gentleman- as 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. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message
for a
challenge.
Exeunt SIR TOBY, 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 haviour that your passion bears
Goes on my master's griefs.
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 sav'd 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 and SIR FABIAN
SIR TOBY. Gentleman, God save thee.
VIOLA. And you, sir.
SIR TOBY. That defence thou hast, betake thee tot. 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. 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. He is knight, dubb'd with unhatch'd rapier and on
carpet
consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl. Souls and
bodies hath he divorc'd 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. 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. I Will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this
gentleman
till my return. Exit SIR TOBY
VIOLA. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
FABIAN. I know the knight is incens'd 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 would
rather go with sir priest than sir knight. I care not who
knows
so much of my mettle. Exeunt
Re-enter SIR TOBY With SIR ANDREW
SIR TOBY. 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.
AGUECHEEK. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.
SIR TOBY. Ay, but he will not now be pacified; Fabian can
scarce
hold him yonder.
AGUECHEEK. Plague on't; an I thought he had been valiant, and
so
cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damn'd ere I'd have
challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give
him
my horse, grey Capilet.
SIR TOBY. 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. [To SIR TOBY] He is as horribly conceited of him; and
pants
and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.
SIR TOBY. [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. 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 promis'd me, as he is a gentleman
and
a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to't.
AGUECHEEK. Pray God he keep his oath! [They
draw]
Enter ANTONIO
VIOLA. I do assure you 'tis against my will.
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. 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. 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. [To ANTONIO] I'll be with you anon.
VIOLA. Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
AGUECHEEK. Marry, will I, sir; and for that I promis'd 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 amaz'd;
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,
Reliev'd 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. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll
whisper
o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
VIOLA. He nam'd 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. 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.
AGUECHEEK. 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.
SIR TOBY. Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
AGUECHEEK. And I do not- Exit
FABIAN. Come, let's see the event.
SIR TOBY. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.
Exeunt
