Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not, that I go with you? Seb. 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. Ant. Let me yet know of you,whither you are bound. Seb. 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 Rodorigo: 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 pleas'd, would we had so ended! but you, sir, alter'd that; for, some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned. Ant. Alas, the day! Seb. 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. Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. Seb. 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. Ant. 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. SCENE II. - A Street. Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following. Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia? Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you Vio. I left no ring with her: What means this lady? For, such as we are made of, such we be. [Exit. SCENE III. - A Room in Olivia's House. Enter SirTOBY BELCH, and Sir ANDREW AGUE-cheek. Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed 5 Own, posscES. • Dexterous, ready. 7 Suit. after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st, Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late. Sir To. 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. Do not our lives consist of the four elements? Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say! a stoop of wine! Enter Clown. Sir And. Here comes the fool. Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three ? 8 Sir To. Welcome ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. 9 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. Clo. My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian ', we are politicians: Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men we be. Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly-valley 3, lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady! [Singing. Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And. 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 To. O the twelfth day of December,—[Singing. Mar. Peace. Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool-you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but ing, when all is done. Now, a song. Sir To. Come on; there is a sixpence for you: let's have a song. Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. SONG. Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming? Every wise man's son doth know. Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith! Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. Sir To. 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 And. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch. Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou knave. 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 To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! 5 Mal. 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 To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done. Sir To. But I will never die. [Singing. spare not? Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. Sir To. Out o'time? sir, ye lie. than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i'the mouth too. Sir To. Thou'rt i'the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crums: A stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. 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. Mar. Go shake your ears. [Exit. Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night: since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nay-word, and make him a common recreation, do not I think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know, I can do it. Sir To. Possess us 7, possess us; tell us something of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight? Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough. Mar. 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 ground 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 To. What wilt thou do? Mar. 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 To. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And your horse now would make him Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. - A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others. Duke. Give me some musick: - Now, good morrow, friends: Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it. Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: Vio. Vio. About your years, my lord. Vio. 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 flower, Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. Vio. 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: And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth 2, Clo. Are you ready, sir? 2 Simple truth. F 4 [Musick. She sat like patience on a monumen Smiling at grief. Was not this lov We men may say more, swear more Our shows are more than will; for Much in our vows, but little in our Duke. But died thy sister of her Vio. I am all the daughters of my And all the brothers too; - and yet Sir, shall I to this lady? Duke. Ay, that's To her in haste; give her this jewel My love can give no place, bide no SCENE V. Olivia's G Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREV and FABIAN. Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a sport, let me be boiled to death with Sir To. Would'st thou not be g niggardly rascally sheep-biter come b shame? Fab. I would exult, man: you kn me out of favour with my lady, abou here. Sir To. To anger him, we'll have and we will fool him black and blu not, sir Andrew? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity Sir To. Here comes the little vi now, my nettle of India? Mar. Get ye all three into the b volio's coming down this walk; he h i'the sun, practising behaviour to hi this half hour: observe him, for the lo for, I know, this letter will make a idiot of him. Close, in the name of men hide themselves.] Lie thou th down a letter,] for here comes the t be caught with tickling. Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fo once told me, she did affect me: and herself come thus near, that, shoul should be one of my complexion. B me with a more exalted respect than that follows her. What should I thi Sir To. Here's an overweening rog Fab. O, peace! Contemplation turkey-cock of him; how he jets 5 vanced plumes! Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat th Mal. To be count Malvolio; Sir To. Ah, rogue! Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. Sir To. Peace, peace! Mal. There is example for't; the strachy married the yeoman of the wa Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel! Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply imagination blows him. Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping. Sir To. Fire and brimstone ! Mal. 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 To. Bolts and shackles! Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. 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 some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me: Sir To. Shall this fellow live? Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control: Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'the lips then? Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech : — Sir To. What, what? Mal. You must amend your drunkenness. Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight; Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me fool. [Taking up the letter. Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very P's her U's and her T's, and thus makes she her great C's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. Sir And. Her P's, her U's, and her T's: Why that? Mal. [Reads.] To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes: her very phrases!- By your leave, wax.- Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To whom should this be? Fab. This wins him, liver and all. But who? Lips do not move, No man must know. Mal. And then I comes behind; Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you. Mal. M, 0, 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. - 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 them. 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 in-kinsman, surly with servants: let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, The fortunate-unhappy. Day-light and champian 2 discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politick authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice, 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 crossgartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised! — Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I will smile; I pr'ythee. Jove, I thank thee. will do every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit. 8 Flys at it. No man must know. What follows? the numbers Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock! 6 Fab. A fustian riddle! Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. • Badger. 7 Hawk. 1 Skin of a snake. 9 Name of a hound. |