| 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
CURIO |
|
| gentlemen attending on the Duke. | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | uncle to Olivia. |
| SIR ANDREW
AGUECHEEK |
(SIR ANDREW:) |
| MALVOLIO | steward to Olivia. |
| FABIAN
FESTE a Clown (Clown:) |
|
| servants to Olivia. | |
| OLIVIA: | |
| VIOLA: | |
| MARIA | Olivia's woman. |
| Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians,
and other Attendants. (Priest:) (First Officer:) (Second Officer:) (Servant:) |
| [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] |
| [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] |
| [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] |
| [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] |
| [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] |
| [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] |
| [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] |
| [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] |
| [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] | |
| Clown | 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 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] |
| [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
|