Twelfth Night

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Original text
Act III, Scene I
Enter Viola and Clowne.

Vio.
Saue thee Friend and thy Musick: dost thou liue by
thy Tabor?

Clo.
No sir, I liue by the Church.

Vio.
Art thou a Churchman?

Clo.
No such matter sir, I do liue by the Church: For, I
do liue at my house, and my house dooth stand by the
Church.

Vio.
So thou maist say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a
begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy
Tabor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church.

Clo.
You haue said sir: To see this age: A sentence is
but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the
wrong side may be turn'd outward.

Vio.
Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with
words, may quickely make them wanton.

Clo.
I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir.

Vio.
Why man?

Clo.
Why sir, her names a word, and to dallie with that
word, might make my sister wanton: But indeede, words
are very Rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them.

Vio.
Thy reason man?

Clo.
Troth sir, I can yeeld you none without wordes, and
wordes are growne so false, I am loath to proue reason
with them.

Vio.
I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for
nothing.

Clo.
Not so sir, I do care for something: but in my concience
sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for
nothing sir, I would it would make you inuisible.

Vio.
Art not thou the Lady Oliuia's foole?

Clo.
No indeed sir, the Lady Oliuia has no folly, shee
will keepe no foole sir, till she be married, and fooles are as
like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Husbands
the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir corrupter
of words.

Vio.
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.

Clo.
Foolery sir, does walke about the Orbe like the Sun, it
shines euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the Foole
should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mistris:
I thinke I saw your wisedome there.

Vio.
Nay, and thou passe vpon me, Ile no more with
thee. Hold there's expences for thee.


Clo.
Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, send
thee a beard.

Vio.
By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost sicke for
one, though I would not haue it grow on my
chinne. Is thy Lady within?

Clo
Would not a paire of these haue bred sir?

Vio.
Yes being kept together, and put to vse.

Clo.
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia sir, to
bring a Cressida to this Troylus.

Vio.
I vnderstand you sir, tis well begg'd.

Clo.
The matter I hope is not great sir; begging, but a
begger: Cressida was a begger. My Lady is within sir.
I will conster 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 ouer-worne.
exit

Vio.
This fellow is wise enough to play the foole,
And to do that well, craues a kinde of wit:
He must obserue their mood on whom he iests,
The quality of persons, and the time:
And like the Haggard, checke at euery Feather
That comes before his eye. This isa practice,
As full of labour as a Wise-mans Art:
For folly that he wisely shewes, is fit;
But wisemens folly falne, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.

To.
Saue you Gentleman.

Vio.
And you sir.

And.
Dieu vou guard Monsieur.

Vio.
Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture.

An.
I hope sir, you are, and I am yours.

To.
Will you incounter the house, my Neece is
desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

Vio.
I am bound to your Neece sir, I meane she is the
list of my voyage.

To.
Taste your legges sir, put them to motion.

Vio.
My legges do better vnderstand me sir, then I
vnderstand what you meane by bidding me taste my legs.

To.
I meane to go sir, to enter.

Vio.
I will answer you with gate and entrance,
Enter Oliuia, and Gentlewoman.
but we are preuented. Most excellent
accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine Odours on you.

And.

That youth's a rare Courtier, raine
odours, wel.

Vio.
My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne
most pregnant and vouchsafed eare.

And.
Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:
Ile get 'em all three already.

Ol.
Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to my
hearing.
Giue me your hand sir.

Vio.
My dutie Madam, and most humble seruice.

Ol.
What is your name?

Vio.
Cesario is your seruants name, faire Princesse.

Ol.
My seruant sir? 'Twas neuer merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd complement:
y'are seruant to the Count Orsino youth.

Vio.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
your seruants seruant, is your seruant Madam.

Ol.
For him, I thinke not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blankes, rather then fill'd with me.

Vio.
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalfe.

Ol.
O by your leaue I pray you.
I bad you neuer speake againe of him;
But would you vndertake another suite
I had rather heare you, to solicit that,
Then Musicke from the spheares.

Vio.
Deere Lady.

Ol.
Giue me leaue, beseech you: I did send,
After the last enchantment you did heare,
A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse
My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you:
Vnder your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you in a shamefull cunning
Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake,
And baited it with all th'vnmuzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing
Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a bosome,
Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake.

Vio.
I pittie you.

Ol.
That's a degree to loue.

Vio.
No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe
That verie oft we pitty enemies.

Ol.
Why then me thinkes 'tis time to smile agen:
O world, how apt the poore are to be proud?
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?
Clocke strikes.
The clocke vpbraides me with the waste of time:
Be not affraid good youth, I will not haue you,
And yet when wit and youth is come to haruest,
your wife is like to reape a proper man:
There lies your way, due West.

Vio.
Then Westward hoe:
Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship:
You'l nothing Madam to my Lord, by me:

Ol.
Stay:
I prethee tell me what thou thinkst of me?

Vio.
That you do thinke you are not what you are.

Ol.
If I thinke so, I thinke the same of you.

Vio.
Then thinke you right: I am not what I am.

Ol.
I would you were, as I would haue you be.

Vio.
Would it be better Madam, then I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your foole.

Ol.
O what a deale of scorne, lookes beautifull?
In the contempt and anger of his lip,
A murdrous guilt shewes not it selfe more soone,
Then loue that would seeme hid: Loues night, is noone.
Cesario, by the Roses of the Spring,
By maid-hood, honor, truth, and euery thing,
I loue thee so, that maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide:
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause:
But rather reason thus, with reason fetter;
Loue sought, is good: but giuen vnsought, is better.

Vio.
By innocence I sweare, and by my youth,
I haue one heart, one bosome, and one truth,
And that no woman has, nor neuer none
Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone.
And so adieu good Madam, neuer more,
Will I my Masters teares to you deplore.

Ol.
Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst moue
That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue.
Exeunt
Original text
Act III, Scene II
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

And.
No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer:

To.
Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason.

Fab.
You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir Andrew?

And.
Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to
the Counts Seruing-man, then euer she bestow'd vpon
mee: I saw't i'th Orchard.

To.
Did she see the while, old boy, tell me
that.

And.
As plaine as I see you now.

Fab.
This was a great argument of loue in her toward
you.

And.
S'light; will you make an Asse o'me.

Fab.
I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of
iudgement, and reason.

To.
And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before
Noah was a Saylor.

Fab.
Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight,
onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour,
to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer: you
should then haue accosted her, and with some excellent
iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd
the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your
hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this
opportunitie you let time wash off, and you are now
sayld into the North of my Ladies opinion, where you
will hang like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you
do redeeme it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour
or policie.

And.
And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for
policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politician.

To.
Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis
of valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with
him / hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note
of it, and assure thy selfe, there is no loue-Broker in the
world, can more preuaile in mans commendation with
woman, then report of valour.

Fab.
There is no way but this sir Andrew.

An.
Will either of you beare me a challenge to
him?

To.
Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and
briefe: it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and
full of inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if
thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and
as many Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although
the sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in England,
set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle enough
in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose-pen, no
matter: about it.

And.
Where shall I finde you?

To.
Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.
Exit Sir Andrew.

Fa.
This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby.

To.
I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand
strong, or so.

Fa.
We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le
not deliuer't.

To.
Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on
the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes
cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were
open'd and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will
clog the foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th'anatomy.

Fab.
And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no
great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria.

To.
Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes.

Mar.
If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your selues
into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is turned
Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian that
meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer beleeue
such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in yellow
stockings.

To.
And crosse garter'd?

Mar.
Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a
Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murtherer.
He does obey euery point of the Letter that I
dropt, to betray him: He does smile his face into more
lynes, then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of
the Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can
hardly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie
will strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a
great fauour.

To.
Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.
Exeunt Omnes.
Original text
Act III, Scene III
Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.

Seb.
I would not by my will haue troubled you,
But since you make your pleasure of your paines,
I will no further chide you.

Ant.
I could not stay behinde you: my desire
(More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth,
And not all loue to see you (though so much
As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage)
But iealousie, what might befall your rrauell,
Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger,
Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue
Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue,
The rather by these arguments of feare
Set forth in your pursuite.

Seb.
My kinde Anthonio,
I can no other answer make, but thankes,
And thankes: and euer oft good turnes,
Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay:
But were my worth, as is my conscience firme,
You should finde better dealing: what's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne?

Ant.
To morrow sir, best first go see your Lodging?

Seb.
I am not weary, and 'tis long to night
I pray you let vs satisfie our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame
That do renowne this City.

Ant.
Would youl'd pardon me:
I do not without danger walke these streetes.
Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his gallies,
I did some seruice, of such note indeede,
That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd.

Seb.
Belike you slew great number of his people.

Ant.
Th offence is not of such a bloody nature,
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell
Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument:
It might haue since bene answer'd in repaying
What we tooke from them, which for Traffiques sake
Most of our City did. Onely my selfe stood out,
For which if I be lapsed in this place
I shall pay deere.

Seb.
Do not then walke too open.

Ant.
It doth not fit me: hold sir, here's my purse,
In the South Suburbes at the Elephant
Is best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet,
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the Towne, there shall you haue me.

Seb.
Why I your purse?

Ant.
Haply your eye shall light vpon some toy
You haue desire to purchase: and your store
I thinke is not for idle Markets, sir.

Seb.
Ile be your purse-bearer, and leaue you
For an houre.

Ant.
To th'Elephant.

Seb.
I do remember.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act III, Scene IV
Enter Oliuia and Maria.

Ol.
I haue sent after him, he sayes hee'l come:
How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd.
I speake too loud:
Where's Maluolio, he is sad, and ciuill,
And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes,
Where is Maluolio?

Mar.
He's comming Madame: / But in very strange manner.
He is sure possest Madam.

Ol.
Why what's the matter, does he raue?

Mar.
No Madam, he does nothing but smile: your
Ladyship were best to haue some guard about you, if hee
come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits.

Ol.
Go call him hither.
I am as madde as hee,
If sad and merry madnesse equall bee.
Enter Maluolio.
How now Maluolio?

Mal.
Sweet Lady, ho, ho.

Ol.
Smil'st thou? I sent for thee vpon a sad occasion.

Mal.
Sad Lady, I could be sad: / This does make
some obstruction in the blood: / This crosse-gartering, but
what of that? / If it please the eye of one, it is with me as
the very true / Sonnet is: Please one, and please all.

Mal.
Why how doest thou man? / What is the matter
with thee?

Mal.
Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my
legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall be
executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane hand.

Ol.
Wilt thou go to bed Maluolio?

Mal.
To bed? I sweet heart, and Ile come to
thee.

Ol.
God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and
kisse thy hand so oft?

Mar.
How do you Maluolio?

Maluo.
At your request: / Yes Nightingales answere
Dawes.

Mar.
Why appeare you with this ridiculous boldnesse
before my Lady.

Mal.
Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ.

Ol.
What meanst thou by that Maluolio?

Mal.
Some are borne great.

Ol.
Ha?

Mal.
Some atcheeue greatnesse.

Ol.
What sayst thou?

Mal.
And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon
them.

Ol.
Heauen restore thee.

Mal.
Remember who commended thy yellow
stockings.

Ol.
Thy yellow stockings?

Mal.
And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd.

Ol.
Crosse garter'd?

Mal.
Go too, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be
so.

Ol.
Am I made?

Mal.
If not, ler me see thee a seruant still.

Ol.
Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse.
Enter Seruant.

Ser.
Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count
Orsino's is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he
attends your Ladyships pleasure.

Ol.
Ile come to him.
Good Maria, let this fellow be look d too. Where's my
Cosine Toby, let some of my people haue a speciall care
of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of
my Dowry.
exit

Mal.
Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse
man then sir Toby to looke to me. This concurres directly
with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may
appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in
the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be
opposite with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy
tongue langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the
tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the
manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow
tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth. I
haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me
thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fellow
be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor after my
degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither,
that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no
obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What
can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene
me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I,
is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.

To.
Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all
the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe
possest him, yet Ile speake to him.

Fab.
Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir?
How ist with you man?

Mal.
Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate:
go off.

Mar.
Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did
not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue a
care of him.

Mal.
Ah ha, does she so?

To.
Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale gently
with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio? How
ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider,
he's an enemy to mankinde.

Mal.
Do you know what you say?

Mar.
La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, how he takes
it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd.

Fab.
Carry his water to th'wise woman.

Mar.
Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if
I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile
say.

Mal.
How now mistris?

Mar.
Oh Lord.

To.
Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe
you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him.

Fa.
No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend
is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd.

To.
Why how now my bawcock? how dost yu
chuck?

Mal.
Sir.

To.
I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not
for grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him
foul Colliar.

Mar.
Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette him
to pray.

Mal.
My prayers Minx.

Mar.
No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlynesse.

Mal.
Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe
things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more
heereafter.
Exit

To.
Ist possible?

Fa.
If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could
condemne it as an improbable fiction.

To.
His very genius hath taken the infection of the
deuice man.

Mar.
Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre, and
taint.

Fa.
Why we shall make him mad indeede.

Mar.
The house will be the quieter.

To.
Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room &
bound. My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad:
we may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance,
til our very pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to
haue mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the
deuice to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen:
but see, but see.
Enter Sir Andrew.

Fa.
More matter for a May morning.

An.
Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant
there's vinegar and pepper in't.

Fab.
Ist so sawcy?

And.
I, ist? I warrant him: do but read.

To.
Giue me.
Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow.

Fa.
Good, and valiant.

To.

Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde
why I doe call thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't.

Fa.
A good note, that keepes you from the blow of ye
Law

To.
Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in
my sight she vses thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat,
that is not the matter I challenge thee for.

Fa.
Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-
lesse.

To.
I will way-lay thee going home, where if
it be thy chance to kill me.

Fa.
Good.

To.
Thou kilst me like a rogue and a
villaine.

Fa.
Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law:
good.

Tob.

Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon
one of our soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my
hope is better, and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou
vsest him, & thy sworne enemie, Andrew Ague-cheeke. If
this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot: Ile giu't him.

Mar.
Yon may haue verie fit occasion fot't: he is now in
some commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by
depart.

To.
Go sir Andrew: scout mee for him at the
corner of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer
thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible:
for t comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a
swaggering accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode
more approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue
earn'd him. Away.

And.
Nay let me alone for swearing.
Exit

To.
Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behauiour
of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of
good capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene
his Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this
Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror
in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole. But
sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth; set
vpon Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue
the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it)
into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and
impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they
wil kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.
Enter Oliuia and Viola.

Fab.
Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way
till he take leaue, and presently after him.

To.
I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid
message for a Challenge.

Ol.
I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone,
And laid mine honour too vnchary on't:
There's something in me that reproues my fault:
But such a head-strong potent fault it is,
That it but mockes reproofe.

Vio.
With the same hauiour that your passion beares,
Goes on my Masters greefes.

Ol.
Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture:
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you:
And I beseech you come againe to morrow.
What shall you aske of me that Ile deny,
That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue.

Vio.
Nothing but this, your true loue for my master.

Ol.
How with mine honor may I giue him that,
Which I haue giuen to you.

Vio.
I will acquit you.

Ol.
Well. come againe to morrow: far-thee-well,
A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to hell.


Enter Toby and Fabian.

To.
Gentleman, God saue thee.

Vio.
And you sir.

To.
That defence thou hast, betake the too't: of
what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe
not: but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hunter,
attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy
tucke, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is
quick, skilfull, and deadly.

Vio.
You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any
quarrell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere
from any image of offence done to any man.

To.
You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore,
if you hold your life at any price, betake you to
your gard: for your opposite hath in him what youth,
strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall.

Vio.
I pray you sir what is he?

To.
He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and
on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate
brall, soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his
incensement at this moment is so implacable, that
satisfaction can be none, but by pangs of death and
sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't.

Vio.
I will returne againe into the house, and desire some
conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard of
some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on others,
to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirke.

To.
Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a
very computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue
him his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse
you vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie
you might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your
sword starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain,
or forsweare to weare iron about you.

Vio.
This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe 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.

To.
I will doe so. Signiour Fabian, stay you by this
Gentleman, till my returne.
Exit Toby.

Vio.
Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?

Fab.
I know the knight is incenst against you, euen
to a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance
more.

Vio.
I beseech you what manner of man is he?

Fab.
Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him
by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe
of his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy,
& fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in
anie part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will
make your peace with him, if I can.

Vio.
I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that
had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care not
who knowes so much of my mettle.
Exeunt. Enter Toby and Andrew.

To.
Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen
such a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd,
and all: and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall
motion that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes
you as surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on.
They say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy.

And.
Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him.

To.
I but he will not now be pacified, / Fabian can
scarse hold him yonder.

An.
Plague on't, and I thought he had beene
valiant, and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him
damn'd ere I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the
matter slip, and Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet.

To.
Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good
shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules,
marry Ile ride your
horse as well as I ride you. I haue his horse
to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded him the youths
a diuell.

Fa.
He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, &
lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles.

To.
There's no remedie sir, he will fight
with you for's oath sake: marrie hee hath better
bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse
to bee worth talking of: therefore draw for the supportance
of his vowe, he protests he will not hurt you.

Vio.
Pray God defend me: a little thing would
make me tell them how much I lacke of a man.

Fab.
Giue ground if you see him furious.

To.
Come sir Andrew,
there's no remedie, the Gentleman will for his honors
sake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello
auoide it: but hee has promised me, as he is a Gentleman
and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't.

And.
Pray God he keepe his oath.
Enter Antonio.

Vio.
I do assure you tis against my will.

Ant.
Put vp your sword: if this yong Gentleman
Haue done offence, I take the fault on me:
If you offend him, I for him defie you.
You sir? Why, what are you?

Ant.
One sir, that for his loue dares yet do more
Then you haue heard him brag to you he will.

To.
Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you.
Enter Officers.

Fab.
O good sir Toby hold: heere come the Officers.

To.
Ile be with you anon.

Vio.
Pray sir, put your sword vp if
you please.

And.
Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd
you Ile be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily,
and raines well.

1. Off.
This is the man, do thy Office.

2. Off.
Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit
of Count Orsino

An.
You do mistake me sir.

1. Off.
No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well:
Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head:
Take him away, he knowes I know him well.

Ant.
I must obey. This comes with seeking you:
But there's no remedie, I shall answer it:
What will you do: now my necessitie
Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd,
But be of comfort.

2. Off.
Come sir away.

Ant.
I must entreat of you some of that money.

Vio.
What money sir?
For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my leane and low ability
Ile lend you something: my hauing is not much,
Ile make diuision of my present with you:
Hold, there's halfe my Coffer.

Ant.
Will you deny me now,
Ist possible that my deserts to you
Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery,
Least that it make me so vnsound a man
As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses
That I haue done for you.

Vio.
I know of none,
Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabites our fraile blood.

Ant.
Oh heauens themselues.

2. Off.
Come sir, I pray you go.

Ant.
Let me speake a little. This youth that you see heere,
I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death,
Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of Ioue;
And to his image, which me thought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I deuotion.

1. Off.
What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away.

Ant.
But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God:
Thou hast Sebastian done good feature, shame.
In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde:
None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde.
Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill
Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill.

1. Off.
The man growes mad, away with him: Come, come sir.

Ant.
Leade me on.
Exit

Vio.
Me thinkes his words do from such passion flye
That he beleeues himselfe, so do not I:
Proue true imagination, oh proue ttue,
That I deere brother, be now tane for you.

To.
Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian:
Weel whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes.

Vio.
He nam'd Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and so
In fauour was my Brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: Oh if it proue,
Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue.

To.
A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a
coward then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing
his frend heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his
cowardship aske Fabian.

Fab.
A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in it.

And.
Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him.

To.
Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy
sword

And.
And I do not.

Fab.
Come, let's see the euent.

To.
I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.
Exit
Modern text
Act III, Scene I
Enter at different entrances Viola, and Feste playing
his pipe and tabor

VIOLA
Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by
thy tabor?

FESTE
No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA
Art thou a Churchman?

FESTE
No such matter, sir; I do live by the church. For I
do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the
church.

VIOLA
So thou mayst say the king lies by a beggar, if a
beggar dwell near him; or the Church stands by thy
tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.

FESTE
You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is
but a cheverel glove to a good wit; how quickly the
wrong side may be turned outward!

VIOLA
Nay, that's certain. They that dally nicely with
words may quickly make them wanton.

FESTE
I would therefore my sister had had no name, sir.

VIOLA
Why, man?

FESTE
Why, sir, her name's a word, and to dally with that
word might make my sister wanton. But indeed, words
are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them.

VIOLA
Thy reason, man?

FESTE
Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and
words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason
with them.

VIOLA
I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for
nothing.

FESTE
Not so, sir. I do care for something; but in my conscience,
sir, I do not care for you. If that be to care for
nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

VIOLA
Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?

FESTE
No indeed, sir, the Lady Olivia has no folly. She
will keep no fool, sir, till she be married, and fools are as
like husbands as pilchers are to herrings; the husband's
the bigger. I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter
of words.

VIOLA
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.

FESTE
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it
shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool
should be as oft with your master as with my mistress.
I think I saw your wisdom there?

VIOLA
Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with
thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee!
She gives him a coin

FESTE
Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send
thee a beard!

VIOLA
By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for
one – (aside) though I would not have it grow on my
chin. Is thy lady within?

FESTE
Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?

VIOLA
Yes, being kept together and put to use.

FESTE
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to
bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

VIOLA
I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.
She gives another coin

FESTE
The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a
beggar – Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir.
I will conster to them whence you come. Who you are
and what you would are out of my welkin – I might say
‘ element,’ but the word is overworn.
Exit

VIOLA
This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well craves a kind of wit.
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time,
And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice
As full of labour as a wise man's art.
For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew

SIR TOBY
Save you, gentleman!

VIOLA
And you, sir!

SIR ANDREW
Dieu vous garde, monsieur!

VIOLA
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur!

SIR ANDREW
I hope, sir, you are, and I am yours.

SIR TOBY
Will you encounter the house? My niece is
desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

VIOLA
I am bound to your niece, sir. I mean, she is the
list of my voyage.

SIR TOBY
Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.

VIOLA
My legs do better under-stand me, sir, than I
understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

SIR TOBY
I mean to go, sir, to enter.

VIOLA
I will answer you with gate and entrance.
Enter Olivia and Maria
But we are prevented. (To Olivia) Most excellent,
accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

SIR ANDREW
(aside)
That youth's a rare courtier. ‘ Rain
odours ’! Well!

VIOLA
My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own
most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

SIR ANDREW
‘ Odours;’ ‘ pregnant;’ and ‘ vouchsafed.’
I'll get 'em all three all ready.

OLIVIA
Let the garden door be shut and leave me to my
hearing.
Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria, Sir Andrew lingering before
he, too, leaves
Give me your hand, sir.

VIOLA
My duty, madam, and most humble service!

OLIVIA
What is your name?

VIOLA
Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

OLIVIA
My servant, sir? 'Twas never merry world
Since lowly feigning was called compliment.
Y'are servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

VIOLA
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours.
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

OLIVIA
For him, I think not on him. For his thoughts,
Would they were blanks rather than filled with me.

VIOLA
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf –

OLIVIA
O, by your leave, I pray you.
I bade you never speak again of him.
But would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that
Than music from the spheres.

VIOLA
Dear lady –

OLIVIA
Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you.
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you in a shameful cunning
Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown; a cypress, not a bosom,
Hides my heart. So let me hear you speak.

VIOLA
I pity you.

OLIVIA
That's a degree to love.

VIOLA
No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof
That very oft we pity enemies.

OLIVIA
Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion than the wolf!
Clock strikes
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth; I will not have you.
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man.
There lies your way, due west.

VIOLA
Then westward ho!
Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship.
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

OLIVIA
Stay.
I prithee, tell me what thou think'st of me?

VIOLA
That you do think you are not what you are.

OLIVIA
If I think so, I think the same of you.

VIOLA
Then think you right; I am not what I am.

OLIVIA
I would you were as I would have you be.

VIOLA
Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

OLIVIA
(aside)
O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
(To Viola) Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honour, truth, and everything,
I love thee so that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause:
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause.
But rather reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought, is good; but given unsought, is better.

VIOLA
By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth.
And that no woman has, nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so, adieu, good madam; never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

OLIVIA
Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene II
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian

SIR ANDREW
No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.

SIR TOBY
Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

FABIAN
You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW
Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to
the Count's servingman than ever she bestowed upon
me. I saw't i'the orchard.

SIR TOBY
Did she see thee the while, old boy, tell me
that?

SIR ANDREW
As plain as I see you now.

FABIAN
This was a great argument of love in her toward
you.

SIR ANDREW
'Slight! Will you make an ass o' me?

FABIAN
I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of
judgement and reason.

SIR TOBY
And they have been grand-jury men since before
Noah was a sailor.

FABIAN
She did show favour to the youth in your sight
only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour,
to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver. You
should then have accosted her, and with some excellent
jests fire-new from the mint, you should have banged
the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your
hand, and this was balked. 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 ANDREW
An't be any way, it must be with valour, for
policy I hate. I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician.

SIR TOBY
Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis
of valour. Challenge me the Count's youth to fight with
him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note
of it – and, assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the
world can more prevail in man's commendation with
woman than report of valour.

FABIAN
There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW
Will either of you bear me a challenge to
him?

SIR TOBY
Go, write it in a martial hand. Be curst and
brief. It is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and
full of invention. Taunt him with the licence of ink. If
thou ‘ thou’-est 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 ANDREW
Where shall I find you?

SIR TOBY
We'll call thee at thy cubiculo. Go!
Exit Sir Andrew

FABIAN
This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY
I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand
strong or so.

FABIAN
We shall have a rare letter from him. But you'll
not deliver it?

SIR TOBY
Never trust me then – and by all means stir on
the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wain-ropes
cannot hale them together. For 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.

FABIAN
And his opposite the youth bears in his visage no
great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria

SIR TOBY
Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.

MARIA
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves
into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned
heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian, that
means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe
such impossible passages of grossness. He's in yellow
stockings!

SIR TOBY
And cross-gartered?

MARIA
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 is in the new map with the augmentation of
the Indies. You have not seen such a thing as 'tis. I can
hardly forbear hurling things at him; I know my lady
will strike him. If she do, he'll smile, and take it for a
great favour.

SIR TOBY
Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene III
Enter Sebastian and Antonio

SEBASTIAN
I would not by my will have troubled you.
But since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.

ANTONIO
I could not stay behind you. My desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth,
And not all love to see you – though so much
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage –
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,
Unguided and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable. My willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.

SEBASTIAN
My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make but thanks,
And thanks. And ever oft good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay.
But were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?

ANTONIO
Tomorrow, sir; best first go see your lodging.

SEBASTIAN
I am not weary, and 'tis long to night.
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That do renown this city.

ANTONIO
Would you'd pardon me.
I do not without danger walk these streets.
Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his galleys
I did some service – of such note indeed
That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answered.

SEBASTIAN
Belike you slew great number of his people?

ANTONIO
Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature,
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answered in repaying
What we took from them, which, for traffic's sake,
Most of our city did. Only myself stood out.
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,
I shall pay dear.

SEBASTIAN
Do not then walk too open.

ANTONIO
It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse.
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the town. There shall you have me.

SEBASTIAN
Why I your purse?

ANTONIO
Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
You have desire to purchase; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.

SEBASTIAN
I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
An hour.

ANTONIO
To th' Elephant.

SEBASTIAN
I do remember.
Exeunt separately
Modern text
Act III, Scene IV
Enter Olivia and Maria

OLIVIA
(aside)
I have sent after him, he says he'll come.
How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed.
I speak too loud.
(To Maria) Where's Malvolio? He is sad and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes.
Where is Malvolio?

MARIA
He's coming, madam, but in very strange manner.
He is sure possessed, madam.

OLIVIA
Why, what's the matter? Does he rave?

MARIA
No, madam, he does nothing but smile. Your
ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if he
come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits.

OLIVIA
Go, call him hither.
Exit Maria
I am as mad as he
If sad and merry madness equal be.
Enter Malvolio and Maria
How now, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO
Sweet lady! Ho! Ho!

OLIVIA
Smil'st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

MALVOLIO
Sad, lady? I could be sad; this does make
some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering – but
what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as
the very true sonnet is: ‘Please one and please all'.

OLIVIA
Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter
with thee?

MALVOLIO
Not black in my mind, though yellow in my
legs. It did come to his hands; and commands shall be
executed. I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

OLIVIA
Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO
To bed! ‘ Ay, sweetheart, and I'll come to
thee!’

OLIVIA
God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and
kiss thy hand so oft?

MARIA
How do you, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO
At your request? Yes; nightingales answer
daws.

MARIA
Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness
before my lady?

MALVOLIO
‘ Be not afraid of greatness.’ 'Twas well writ.

OLIVIA
What mean'st thou by that, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO
‘ Some are born great – ’

OLIVIA
Ha?

MALVOLIO
‘ Some achieve greatness – ’

OLIVIA
What sayest thou?

MALVOLIO
‘ And some have greatness thrust upon
them.’

OLIVIA
Heaven restore thee!

MALVOLIO
‘ Remember who commended thy yellow
stockings – ’

OLIVIA
Thy yellow stockings?

MALVOLIO
‘ – and wished to see thee cross-gartered.’

OLIVIA
Cross-gartered?

MALVOLIO
‘ Go to, thou art made if thou desir'st to be
so.’

OLIVIA
Am I maid!

MALVOLIO
‘ If not, let me see thee a servant still.’

OLIVIA
Why, this is very midsummer madness.
Enter a Servant

SERVANT
Madam, the young gentleman of the Count
Orsino's is returned. 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 looked to. Where's my
cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care
care of him. I would not have him miscarry for the half of
my dowry.
Exeunt Olivia and Maria different ways

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 a 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 limed her! But it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me
thankful! And when she went away now – ‘ let this fellow
be looked 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.
Enter Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria

SIR TOBY
Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all
the devils of hell be drawn in little and Legion himself
possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.

FABIAN
Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir?
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 the wisewoman.

MARIA
Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow 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 used.

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 cherry-pit 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 Malvolio

SIR TOBY
Is't possible?

FABIAN
If this were played 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!

SIR ANDREW
Here's the challenge, read it. I warrant
there's vinegar and pepper in't.

FABIAN
Is't so saucy?

SIR ANDREW
Ay, is't, I warrant him. Do but read.

SIR TOBY
Give me.
He 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 – (aside)
less!

SIR TOBY
(reads)
I will waylay thee going home; where, if
it be thy chance to kill me

FABIAN
Good!

SIR TOBY
(reads)
thou kill'st me like a rogue and a
villain.

FABIAN
Still you keep o' the 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 drawest, swear horrible;
for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a
swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood
more approbation than ever proof itself would have
earned him. Away!

SIR ANDREW
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 a notable report of valour, and drive
the gentleman – as I 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.
Enter Olivia and 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.
Exit Maria
Sir Toby and Fabian stand aside

OLIVIA
I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary on't.
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 tomorrow.
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,
That honour saved 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 tomorrow. Fare thee well.
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.
Exit
Sir Toby and Fabian come forward

SIR TOBY
Gentleman, God save thee!

VIOLA
And you, sir.

SIR TOBY
That defence thou hast, betake thee to't. 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 dubbed with unhatched rapier and
on carpet consideration – but he is a devil in private
brawl. Souls and bodies hath he divorced 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 computent 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. Signor Fabian, stay you by this
gentleman till my return.
Exit

VIOLA
Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?

FABIAN
I know the knight is incensed 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
had rather go with Sir Priest than Sir Knight; I care not
who knows so much of my mettle.
Enter Sir Toby and 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 hits the ground they step on.
They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.

SIR ANDREW
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.

SIR ANDREW
Plague on't! An I thought he had been
valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him
damned ere I'd have challenged 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, as he crosses to Fabian) Marry, I'll ride your
horse as well as I ride you! (To Fabian) I have his horse
to take up the quarrel. I have persuaded him the youth's
a devil.

FABIAN
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's 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
(crossing to Sir Andrew)
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 promised me, as he is a gentleman
and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on, to't!

SIR ANDREW
Pray God, he keep his oath!
He draws
Enter Antonio

VIOLA
I do assure you, 'tis against my will.
She draws

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.
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.
Enter Officers

FABIAN
O good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the Officers.

SIR TOBY
(to Antonio)
I'll be with you anon.

VIOLA
(to Sir Andrew)
Pray sir, put your sword up, if
you please.

SIR ANDREW
Marry, will I, sir. And for that I promised
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 amazed;
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 showed 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 snatched one half out of the jaws of death;
Relieved 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 vild an idol proves this god!
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
In nature, there's no blemish but the mind;
None can be called deformed, but the unkind.
Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous evil
Are empty trunks o'erflourished by the devil.

FIRST OFFICER
The man grows mad; away with him. Come, come, sir.

ANTONIO
Lead me on.
Exeunt Antonio and Officers

VIOLA
(aside)
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 named 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!

SIR ANDREW
'Slid! I'll after him again and beat him.

SIR TOBY
Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy
sword.

SIR ANDREW
An I do not –
Exit

FABIAN
Come, let's see the event.

SIR TOBY
I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing yet.
Exeunt
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