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, Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea. [Exit. To die, even when they to perfection grow! Duke. O, fellow! come, the song we had last night.- Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that Do use to chaunt it: it is silly sooth, adores me: what o' that? Sir And. I was adored once too. Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.-Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul SCENE IV.-A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others. Duke. Give me some music. [Music.]-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. Who was it? Cur. 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 again. Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love, [To VIOLA. 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? Vio. 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? And dallies with the innocence of love, Vio. Vio. About your years, my lord. Clo. Are you ready, sir? Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing. [Music. I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My part of death no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet, Lay me, O! where Sad true lover never find my grave, Duke. There's for thy pains. [Giving him money. Clo. No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir. Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. Duke. I give thee now leave to leave me. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, 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 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, Sooth, but Say, that some lady, as perhaps there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart you must. Duke. Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; An elder than herself; so wears she to him, Vio. I think it well, my lord. Duke. Then, let thy love be younger than thyself, hour. very Vio. And so they are: alas! that they are so; You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd? Can bide the beating of so strong a passion And can disgest as much. Make no compare Duke. What dost thou know? Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith, they are as true of heart as we. And what's her history? Duke. Was not this love, indeed? We men may say more, swear more; but, indeed, Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Duke. SCENE V.-OLIVIA'S Garden. [Exeunt. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly, rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here. Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again, and we will fool him black and blue;-shall we not, sir Andrew? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. Sir To. Here comes the little villain.-How now, my metal of India? Mar. 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! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [drops a letter] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. [Exit MARIA. Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. '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 To. Here's an over-weening rogue! 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 lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel. Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in: look, how imagination blows him. Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state, -- 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 have left Olivia sleeping : Sir To. Fire and brimstone! Mal. And then to have the honour 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 my-some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me. Sir To. Shall this fellow live? Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us by th' ears, 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. Mal. "One sir Andrew." Sir And. I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool. Mal. [Seeing the letter.] What employment have we here? Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him! Mal. [Taking up the letter.] By my life, this is my lady's hand! these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. Sir And. Her C'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. "No man must know."-What follows? the number's Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock! With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore: M, O, A, I, doth sway my life." Fab. A fustian riddle. Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. Mal. "M, O, A, I, doth sway my life."-Nay, but first, let me see,-let me see,-let me see. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him! Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel checks at it! Mal. “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 To. O! ay, make up that. He is now at a cold scent. 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-device the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me, for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late; she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised! my-Here is yet a postscript. [Reads.] "Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling: thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee."-Jove, I thank thee.-I will smile: I will do every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit. Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though it be not as rank as a fox. Mal. M,-Malvolio :-M,-why that begins name. Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults. Mal. M.-But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. Fab. And O! shall end, I hope. Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O! Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you. Mal. 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 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 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 crossgartered: 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 champaign discovers not more: this is Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest. Sir And. Nor I neither. Enter MARIA. Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond-slave? Sir And. I'faith, or I either? Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad. Mar. Nay, but say true: does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aqua-vitæ with a midwife. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me. Sir To. To the gates of Tartarus, thou most excellent devil of wit! [Exeunt. Sir And. I'll make one too. ACT III. SCENE I.-OLIVIA'S Garden. Clo. No, sir; I live by the church. Clo. 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. Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lives by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age!-A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward! Vio. Nay, that's certain: they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton. Vio. Thy reason, man? Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them. Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing. Clo. 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. Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool? Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger. I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words. Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there. Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold; there's expenses for thee. [Giving money. Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard. Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee: I am almost sick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within? Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? Oli. What is your name? Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Oli. Vio. Dear lady, Oli. Give me leave, 'beseech you. I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse bring a Cressida to this Troilus. Vio. I understand you, sir: 'tis well begg'd. [Giving more. Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might say element, but the word is over[Exit. worn. Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool, But wise men's folly fall'n quite taints their wit. Sir To. Save you, gentleman. Vio. And you, sir. Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Vio. Et vous aussi : votre serviteur. Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage. Sir To. Taste your legs, sir: put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are prevented. Enter OLIVIA and MARIA. Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you! Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier. "Rain odours!" well. Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. Sir And. "Odours," "pregnant," and "vouchsafed:"-I'll get 'em all three all ready. [Writing in his table-book. Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and MARIA. Give me your hand, sir. Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you. Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom, Oli. That's a degree to love. Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again. To fall before the lion, than the wolf? [Clock strikes. Vio. Then westward ho! I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, And so adieu, good madam: never more Oli. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, may'st move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-A Room in OLIVIA'S House. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and FABIAN. Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom: give thy reason. Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed upon me: I saw't i' the orchard. Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that. Sir And. As plain as I see you now. Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you. Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason. Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men since before Noah was a sailor. Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter MARIA. Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes. Mar. 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. Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her, and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was baulked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valour, or policy. Sir To. And cross-gartered? Mar. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church.-I have dogged him like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his face into more lines, than are 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 And. 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 To. 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 lovebroker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman, than report of valour. Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-A Street. Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO. Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you; But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no farther chide you. Ant. 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. Seb. Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew. Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? Sir To. 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 licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down. Go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. About it. Sir And. Where shall I find you? Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo. Go. [Exit Sir ANDREW. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; some two thousand strong, or so. My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make, but, thanks, Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him; but you'll not deliver it. Sir To. 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 sir Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. Ant. 'Would, you'd pardon me : I do not without danger walk these streets. Seb. |