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
<
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Before OLIVIA’S house
Enter SEBASTIAN and CLOWN
CLOWN. Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you? SEBASTIAN. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; let me be clear
of thee.
CLOWN. Well held out, i’ faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not
sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your
name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so.
SEBASTIAN. I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else. Thou know’st not me.
CLOWN. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some great man, and
now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great
lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird
thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall
I vent to her that thou art coming? SEBASTIAN. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me; There’s money for thee; if you tarry longer I shall give worse payment.
CLOWN. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report after fourteen years’ purchase.
Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY, and FABIAN
AGUECHEEK. Now, sir, have I met you again? [Striking SEBASTIAN] There’s for you.
SEBASTIAN. Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there. Are all the people mad?
SIR TOBY. Hold, sir, or I’ll throw your dagger o’er the house. [Holding SEBASTIAN] CLOWN. This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of
your coats for two-pence. Exit SIR TOBY. Come on, sir; hold.
AGUECHEEK. Nay, let him alone. I’ll go another way to work with him; I’ll have an action of battery against him, if there be any
law in Illyria; though I struck him first, yet it’s no matter for
that.
SEBASTIAN. Let go thy hand.
SIR TOBY. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier,
put up your iron; you are well flesh’d. Come on. SEBASTIAN. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword. [Draws] SIR TOBY. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this
malapert blood from you. [Draws]
Enter OLIVIA
OLIVIA. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee hold. SIR TOBY. Madam!
OLIVIA. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, Where manners ne’er were preach’d! Out of my sight! Be not offended, dear Cesario-
Rudesby, be gone!
Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN I prithee, gentle friend,
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botch’d up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go; Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me!
He started one poor heart of mine in thee. SEBASTIAN. What relish is in this? How runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! OLIVIA. Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou’dst be rul’d by me! SEBASTIAN. Madam, I will.
OLIVIA. O, say so, and so be! Exeunt
SCENE II.
OLIVIA’S house
Enter MARIA and CLOWN
MARIA. Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him
believe thou art Sir Topas the curate; do it quickly. I’ll call
Sir Toby the whilst. Exit CLOWN. Well, I’ll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in’t; and
I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I
am not tall enough to become the function well nor lean enough to
be thought a good student; but to be said an honest man and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter.
Enter SIR TOBY and MARIA
SIR TOBY. Jove bless thee, Master Parson. CLOWN. Bonos dies, Sir Toby; for as the old hermit of Prague, that
never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to niece of King Gorboduc ‘That that is is’; so I, being Master Parson, am Master
Parson; for what is ‘that’ but that, and ‘is’ but is? SIR TOBY. To him, Sir Topas.
CLOWN. What ho, I say! Peace in this prison! SIR TOBY. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. MALVOLIO. [Within] Who calls there?
CLOWN. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady. CLOWN. Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this man! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?
SIR TOBY. Well said, Master Parson. MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do
not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.
CLOWN. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest
terms, for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil
himself with courtesy. Say’st thou that house is dark? MALVOLIO. As hell, Sir Topas.
CLOWN. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the
clerestories toward the south north are as lustrous as ebony; and
yet complainest thou of obstruction? MALVOLIO. I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark.
CLOWN. Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in
their fog.
MALVOLIO. I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say there was never man thus abus’d. I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it
in any constant question.
CLOWN. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl? MALVOLIO. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
CLOWN. What think’st thou of his opinion? MALVOLIO. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.
CLOWN. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt
hold th’ opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits; and
fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas!
SIR TOBY. My most exquisite Sir Topas! CLOWN. Nay, I am for all waters.
MARIA. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown: he
sees thee not.
SIR TOBY. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou find’st him. I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may
be conveniently deliver’d, I would he were; for I am now so far
in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. Exit with MARIA CLOWN. [Sings] Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does.
MALVOLIO. Fool!
CLOWN. [Sings] My lady is unkind, perdy. MALVOLIO. Fool!
CLOWN. [Sings] Alas, why is she so? MALVOLIO. Fool I say!
CLOWN. [Sings] She loves another- Who calls, ha? MALVOLIO. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper; as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for’t. CLOWN. Master Malvolio?
MALVOLIO. Ay, good fool.
CLOWN. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? MALVOLIO. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abus’d; I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. CLOWN. But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in
your wits than a fool.
MALVOLIO. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send
ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my
wits.
CLOWN. Advise you what. you say: the minister is here. [Speaking as SIR TOPAS] Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore!
Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble. MALVOLIO. Sir Topas!
CLOWN. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.- Who, I, sir? Not
I, sir. God buy you, good Sir Topas.- Marry, amen.- I will sir, I
will.
MALVOLIO. Fool, fool, fool, I say! CLOWN. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you.
MALVOLIO. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper. I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. CLOWN. Well-a-day that you were, sir!
MALVOLIO. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, and light; and convey what I will set down to my lady. It shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did. CLOWN. I will help you to’t. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit?
MALVOLIO. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. CLOWN. Nay, I’ll ne’er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink. MALVOLIO. Fool, I’ll requite it in the highest degree; I prithe be
gone.
CLOWN. [Singing]
I am gone, sir,
And anon, sir,
I’ll be with you again,
In a trice,
Like to the old Vice,
Your need to sustain;
Who with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath, Cries, Ah, ha! to the devil,
Like a mad lad,
Pare thy nails, dad.
Adieu, goodman devil. Exit
SCENE III.
OLIVIA’S garden
Enter SEBASTIAN
SEBASTIAN. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; This pearl she gave me, I do feel’t and see’t; And though ’tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet ’tis not madness. Where’s Antonio, then? I could not find him at the Elephant;
Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service; For though my soul disputes well with my sense That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad,
Or else the lady’s mad; yet if ’twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs and their dispatch With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing, As I perceive she does. There’s something in’t That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.
Enter OLIVIA and PRIEST
OLIVIA. Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, Now go with me and with this holy man
Into the chantry by; there, before him And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the fun assurance of your faith, That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace. He shall conceal it Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keep According to my birth. What do you say? SEBASTIAN. I’ll follow this good man, and go with you; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. OLIVIA. Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine That they may fairly note this act of mine! Exeunt
<
ACT V. SCENE I.
Before OLIVIA’s house
Enter CLOWN and FABIAN
FABIAN. Now, as thou lov’st me, let me see his letter. CLOWN. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. FABIAN. Anything.
CLOWN. Do not desire to see this letter. FABIAN. This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again.
Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and LORDS
DUKE. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? CLOWN. Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings. DUKE. I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow? CLOWN. Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends.
DUKE. Just the contrary: the better for thy friends. CLOWN. No, sir, the worse.
DUKE. How can that be?
CLOWN. Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused;
so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make
your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and
the better for my foes.
DUKE. Why, this is excellent.
CLOWN. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my
friends.
DUKE. Thou shalt not be the worse for me. There’s gold. CLOWN. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could
make it another.
DUKE. O, you give me ill counsel.
CLOWN. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let
your flesh and blood obey it.
DUKE. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer. There’s another.
CLOWN. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying
is ‘The third pays for all.’ The triplex, sir, is a good tripping
measure; or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind-
one, two, three.
DUKE. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw; if you
will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring
her along with you, it may awake my bounty further. CLOWN. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go,
sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having
is the sin of covetousness. But, as you say, sir, let your bounty
take a nap; I will awake it anon. Exit
Enter ANTONIO and OFFICERS
VIOLA. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. DUKE. That face of his I do remember well; Yet when I saw it last it was besmear’d As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war. A baubling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught and bulk unprizable, With which such scathful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet That very envy and the tongue of los
Cried fame and honour on him. What’s the matter? FIRST OFFICER. Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy; And this is he that did the Tiger board When your young nephew Titus lost his leg. Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In private brabble did we apprehend him. VIOLA. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side; But in conclusion put strange speech upon me. I know not what ’twas but distraction. DUKE. Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies?
ANTONIO. Orsino, noble sir,
Be pleas’d that I shake off these names you give me: Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsino’s enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingrateful boy there by your side From the rude sea’s enrag’d and foamy mouth Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was. His life I gave him, and did thereto ad My love without retention or restraint, All his in dedication; for his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him when he was beset; Where being apprehended, his false cunning, Not meaning to partake with me in danger, Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twenty years removed thing
While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.
VIOLA. How can this be?
DUKE. When came he to this town?
ANTONIO. To-day, my lord; and for three months before, No int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy,
Both day and night did we keep company.
Enter OLIVIA and ATTENDANTS
DUKE. Here comes the Countess; now heaven walks on earth. But for thee, fellow- fellow, thy words are madness. Three months this youth hath tended upon me- But more of that anon. Take him aside. OLIVIA. What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. VIOLA. Madam?
DUKE. Gracious Olivia-
OLIVIA. What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord- VIOLA. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. OLIVIA. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
As howling after music.
DUKE. Still so cruel?
OLIVIA. Still so constant, lord.
DUKE. What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull’st off’rings hath breath’d out That e’er devotion tender’d! What shall I do? OLIVIA. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. DUKE. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, Kill what I love?- a savage jealousy
That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still; But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye
Where he sits crowned in his master’s spite. Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief: I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love To spite a raven’s heart within a dove. VIOLA. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. OLIVIA. Where goes Cesario?
VIOLA. After him I love
More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More, by all mores, than e’er I shall love wife. If I do feign, you witnesses above
Punish my life for tainting of my love! OLIVIA. Ay me, detested! How am I beguil’d! VIOLA. Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong? OLIVIA. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy father. Exit an ATTENDANT DUKE. Come, away!
OLIVIA. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. DUKE. Husband?
OLIVIA. Ay, husband; can he that deny? DUKE. Her husband, sirrah?
VIOLA. No, my lord, not I.
OLIVIA. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety. Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up; Be that thou know’st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear’st.
Enter PRIEST
O, welcome, father!
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold- though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now
Reveals before ’tis ripe- what thou dost know Hath newly pass’d between this youth and me. PRIEST. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm’d by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strength’ned by interchangement of your rings; And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal’d in my function, by my testimony; Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave, I have travell’d but two hours.
DUKE. O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be, When time hath sow’d a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. VIOLA. My lord, I do protest-
OLIVIA. O, do not swear!
Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear.
Enter SIR ANDREW
AGUECHEEK. For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently to Sir Toby.
OLIVIA. What’s the matter?
AGUECHEEK. Has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather
than forty pound I were at home.
OLIVIA. Who has done this, Sir Andrew? AGUECHEEK. The Count’s gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a
coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate. DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario?
AGUECHEEK. Od’s lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for nothing; and that that did, I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby. VIOLA. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you. You drew your sword upon me without cause; But I bespake you fair and hurt you not.
Enter SIR TOBY and CLOWN
AGUECHEEK. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think
you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby halting;
you shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would
have tickl’d you othergates than he did. DUKE. How now, gentleman? How is’t with you? SIR TOBY. That’s all one; has hurt me, and there’s th’ end on’t.
Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot? CLOWN. O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at
eight i’ th’ morning.
SIR TOBY. Then he’s a rogue and a passy measures pavin. I hate a
drunken rogue.
OLIVIA. Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them? AGUECHEEK. I’ll help you, Sir Toby, because we’ll be dress’d together.
SIR TOBY. Will you help- an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a
thin fac’d knave, a gull?
OLIVIA. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look’d to. Exeunt CLOWN, FABIAN, SIR TOBY, and SIR ANDREW
Enter SEBASTIAN
SEBASTIAN. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman; But, had it been the brother of my blood, I must have done no less with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that I do perceive it hath offended you.
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago.
DUKE. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons! A natural perspective, that is and is not. SEBASTIAN. Antonio, O my dear Antonio! How have the hours rack’d and tortur’d me Since I have lost thee!
ANTONIO. Sebastian are you?
SEBASTIAN. Fear’st thou that, Antonio? ANTONIO. How have you made division of yourself? An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? OLIVIA. Most wonderful!
SEBASTIAN. Do I stand there? I never had a brother; Nor can there be that deity in my nature Of here and everywhere. I had a sister Whom the blind waves and surges have devour’d. Of charity, what kin are you to me?
What countryman, what name, what parentage? VIOLA. Of Messaline; Sebastian was my father. Such a Sebastian was my brother too;
So went he suited to his watery tomb; If spirits can assume both form and suit, You come to fright us.
SEBASTIAN. A spirit I am indeed,
But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, And say ‘Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!’ VIOLA. My father had a mole upon his brow. SEBASTIAN. And so had mine.
VIOLA. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had numb’red thirteen years.
SEBASTIAN. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished indeed his mortal act
That day that made my sister thirteen years. VIOLA. If nothing lets to make us happy both But this my masculine usurp’d attire,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump That I am Viola; which to confirm,
I’ll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help I was preserv’d to serve this noble Count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord. SEBASTIAN. [To OLIVIA] So Comes it, lady, you have been mistook;
But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv’d; You are betroth’d both to a maid and man. DUKE. Be not amaz’d; right noble is his blood. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck. [To VIOLA] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. VIOLA. And all those sayings will I overswear; And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbed continent the fire
That severs day from night.
DUKE. Give me thy hand;
And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds. VIOLA. The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maid’s garments. He, upon some action, Is now in durance, at Malvolio’s suit, A gentleman and follower of my lady’s. OLIVIA. He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither; And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract.
Re-enter CLOWN, with a letter, and FABIAN
A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banish’d his. How does he, sirrah?
CLOWN. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave’s end as well
as a man in his case may do. Has here writ a letter to you; I should have given ‘t you to-day morning, but as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are deliver’d.
OLIVIA. Open’t, and read it.
CLOWN. Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman. [Reads madly ] ‘By the Lord, madam-‘ OLIVIA. How now! Art thou mad?
CLOWN. No, madam, I do but read madness. An your ladyship will have
it as it ought to be, you must allow vox. OLIVIA. Prithee read i’ thy right wits. CLOWN. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus; therefore perpend, my Princess, and give ear. OLIVIA. [To FABIAN] Read it you, sirrah. FABIAN. [Reads] ‘By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world
shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my
senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on, with the which I doubt not
but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you
please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of
my injury.
THE MADLY-US’D MALVOLIO’
OLIVIA. Did he write this?
CLOWN. Ay, Madam.
DUKE. This savours not much of distraction. OLIVIA. See him deliver’d, Fabian; bring him hither. Exit FABIAN
My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown th’ alliance on’t, so please you, Here at my house, and at my proper cost. DUKE. Madam, I am most apt t’ embrace your offer. [To VIOLA] Your master quits you; and, for your service done him,
So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call’d me master for so long, Here is my hand; you shall from this time be You master’s mistress.
OLIVIA. A sister! You are she.
Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO
DUKE. Is this the madman?
OLIVIA. Ay, my lord, this same.
How now, Malvolio!
MALVOLIO. Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong.
OLIVIA. Have I, Malvolio? No.
MALVOLIO. Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand; Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase; Or say ’tis not your seal, not your invention; You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me, in the modesty of honour, Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, Bade me come smiling and cross-garter’d to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people;
And, acting this in an obedient hope, Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck and gul That e’er invention play’d on? Tell me why. OLIVIA. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though, I confess, much like the character; But out of question ’tis Maria’s hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she
First told me thou wast mad; then cam’st in smiling, And in such forms which here were presuppos’d Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content; This practice hath most shrewdly pass’d upon thee, But, when we know the grounds and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause.
FABIAN. Good madam, hear me speak, And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wond’red at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confess myself and Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here, Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceiv’d against him. Maria writ The letter, at Sir Toby’s great importance, In recompense whereof he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was follow’d May rather pluck on laughter than revenge, If that the injuries be justly weigh’d That have on both sides pass’d.
OLIVIA. Alas, poor fool, how have they baffl’d thee! CLOWN. Why, ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
have greatness thrown upon them.’ I was one, sir, in this interlude- one Sir Topas, sir; but that’s all one. ‘By the Lord,
fool, I am not mad!’ But do you remember- ‘Madam, why laugh you
at such a barren rascal? An you smile not, he’s gagg’d’? And thus
the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. MALVOLIO. I’ll be reveng’d on the whole pack of you. Exit
OLIVIA. He hath been most notoriously abus’d. DUKE. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace; He hath not told us of the captain yet. When that is known, and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made
Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence. Cesario, come; For so you shall be while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino’s mistress, and his fancy’s queen. Exeunt all but the CLOWN
CLOWN sings
When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came to man’s estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, ‘Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day.
A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But that’s all one, our play is done, And we’ll strive to please you every day. Exit
THE END
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