TWELFTH NIGHT

Act 1 Scene 5

(Enter Maria, and Feste, the clown)
l1l	Maria	Nay, either tell me where thou hast been or I will
l2l		not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way
l3l		of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence.
l4l	Feste	Let her hang me. He that is well hanged in this
l5l		world needs to fear no colours.
l6l	Maria	Make that good.
l7l	Feste	He shall see none to fear.
l8l	Maria	A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where that
l9l		saying was born, of “I fear no colours”.
l10l	Feste	Where, good Mistress Mary?
l11l	Maria	In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in
l12l		your foolery.
l13l	Feste	Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and
l14l		those that are fools, let them use their talents.
l15l	Maria	Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent,
l16l		or to be turned away—is not that as good as a hanging
l17l		to you?
l18l	Feste	Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage#
l19l		and for turning away, let summer bear it out.
l20l	Maria	You are resolute then?
l21l	Feste	Not so neither, but I am resolved on two points.
l22l	Maria	That if one break, the other will hold# or if both
l23l		break, your gaskins fall.
l24l	Feste	Apt, in good faith, very apt. Well, go thy way. If
l25l		Sir Toby would leave drinking thou wert as witty a
l26l		piece of Eve’s flesh as any in Illyria.
l27l	Maria	Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that. Here comes
l28l		my lady. Make your excuse wisely, you were best.
		(Exit)
		(Enter Olivia, with Malvolio and attendants)
l29l		Feste	(Aside) Wit, an ’t be thy will, put me into good
l30l		fooling! Those wits that think they have thee do very
l31l		oft prove fools, and I that am sure I lack thee may 			pass
l32l		for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus?—“Better a
l33l		witty fool than a foolish wit.”
		(To Olivia) 						God bless thee,
l34l		lady.
l35l	Olivia	(to attendants) Take the fool away.
l36l	Feste	Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
l37l	Olivia	Go to, you’re a dry fool. I’ll no more of you.
l38l		Besides, you grow dishonest.
l39l	Feste	Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
l40l		will amend, for give the dry fool drink, then is the 			fool
l41l		not dry# bid the dishonest man mend himself: if he
l42l		mend, he is no longer dishonest# if he cannot, let the
l43l		botcher mend him. Anything that’s mended is but
l44l		patched. Virtue that transgresses is but patched with
l45l		sin, and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If
l46l		that this simple syllogism will serve, so. If it will not,
l47l		what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity,
l48l		so beauty’s a flower. The lady bade take away the fool,
l49l		therefore I say again, take her away.
l50l	Olivia	Sir, I bade them take away you.
l51l	Feste	Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, “Cucullus
l52l		non facit monachum”—that’s as much to say as I wear
l53l		not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave
l54l		to prove you a fool.
l55l	Olivia	Can you do it?
l56l	Feste	Dexteriously, good madonna.
l57l	Olivia	Make your proof.
l58l	Feste	I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good my
l59l		mouse of virtue, answer me.
l60l	Olivia	Well, sir, for want of other idleness I’ll bide your
l61l		proof.
l62l	Feste	Good madonna, why mournest thou?
l63l	Olivia	Good fool, for my brother’s death.
l64l	Feste	I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
l65l	Olivia	I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
l66l	Feste	The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your
l67l		brother’s soul, being in heaven. Take away the fool,
l68l		gentlemen.
l69l	Olivia	What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Doth he
l70l		not mend?
l71l	Malvolio	Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake
l72l		him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make
l73l		the better fool.
l74l	Feste	God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity for the better
l75l		increasing your folly. Sir Toby will be sworn that I am
l76l		no fox, but he will not pass his word for twopence that
l77l		you are no fool.
l78l	Olivia	How say you to that, Malvolio?
l79l	Malvolio	I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
l80l		barren rascal. I saw him put down the other day with
l81l		an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone.
l82l		Look you now, he’s out of his guard already. Unless
l83l		you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged.
l84l		I protest I take these wise men that crow so at these
l85l		set kind of fools no better than the fools’ zanies.
l86l	Olivia	O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
l87l		with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless,
l88l		and of free disposition is to take those things for
l89l		birdbolts that you deem cannon bullets. There is no
l90l		slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but
l91l		rail# nor no railing in a known discreet man, though
l92l		he do nothing but reprove.
l93l	Feste	Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou
l94l		speakest well of fools.
		(Enter Maria)
l95l	Maria	Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman
l96l		much desires to speak with you.
l97l	Olivia	From the Count Orsino, is it?
l98l	Maria	I know not, madam. ’Tis a fair young man, and
l99l		well attended.
l100l	Olivia	Who of my people hold him in delay?
l101l	Maria	Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
l102l	Olivia	Fetch him off, I pray you, he speaks nothing but
l103l		madman. Fie on him. Go you, Malvolio. If it be a suit
l104l		from the Count, I am sick, or not at home—what you
l105l		will to dismiss it.
		(Exit Malvolio)
l106l		Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and
l107l		people dislike it.
l108l	Feste	Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest
l109l		son should be a fool, whose skull Jove cram with 			brains,
l110l		for—here he comes—
		(Enter Sir Toby)
l111l		one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.
l112l	Olivia	By mine honour, half-drunk. What is he at the
l113l		gate, cousin?
l114l	Sir Toby	A gentleman.
l115l	Olivia	A gentleman? What gentleman?
l116l	Sir Toby	’Tis a gentleman here.(He belches) A plague o’
l117l		these pickle herring!(To Feste) How now, sot?
l118l	Feste	Good Sir Toby.
l119l	Olivia	Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by
l120l		this lethargy?
l121l	Sir Toby	Lechery? I defy lechery. There’s one at the gate.
l122l	Olivia	Ay, marry, what is he?
l123l	Sir Toby	Let him be the devil an he will, I care not. Give
l124l		me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.
		(Exit)
l125l	Olivia	What’s a drunken man like, fool?
l126l	Feste	Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman—one
l127l		draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads
l128l		him, and a third drowns him.
l129l	Olivia	Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o’
l130l		my coz, for he’s in the third degree of drink, he’s
l131l		drowned. Go look after him.
l132l	Feste	He is but mad yet, madonna, and the fool shall
l133l		look to the madman.
		(Exit)
		(Enter Malvolio)
l134l	Malvolio	Madam, yon young fellow swears he will speak
l135l		with you. I told him you were sick—he takes on him
l136l		to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
l137l		with you. I told him you were asleep—he seems to
l138l		have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes
l139l		to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady?
l140l		He’s fortified against any denial.
l141l	Olivia	Tell him he shall not speak with me.
l142l	Malvolio	He’s been told so, and he says he’ll stand at
l143l		your door like a sheriff’s post, and be the supporter 			to
l144l		a bench, but he’ll speak with you.
l145l	Olivia	What kind o’ man is he?
l146l	Malvolio	Why, of mankind.
l147l	Olivia	What manner of man?
l148l	Malvolio	Of very ill manner: he’ll speak with you, will
l149l		you or no.
l150l	Olivia	Of what personage and years is he?
l151l	Malvolio	Not yet old enough for a man, nor young
l152l		enough for a boy# as a squash is before ’tis a 				peascod,
l153l		or a codling when ’tis almost an apple. ’Tis with him
l154l		in standing water between boy and man. He is very
l155l		well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly. One
l156l		would think his mother’s milk were scarce out of him.
l157l	Olivia	Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.
l158l	Malvolio	Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
		(Exit)
		(Enter Maria)
l159l	Olivia	Give me my veil. Come, throw it o’er my face.
l160l		We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.
		(Enter Viola as Cesario)
l161l	Viola	The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
l162l	Olivia	Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your will.
l163l		Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty.
l164l		—I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, 			for
l165l		I never saw her. I would be loath to cast away my
l166l		speech, for besides that it is excellently well penned, I
l167l		have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me
l168l		sustain no scorn# I am very ’countable, even to the 			least
l169l		sinister usage.
l170l	Olivia	Whence came you, sir?
l171l	Viola	I can say little more than I have studied, and that
l172l		question’s out of my part. Good gentle one, give me
l173l		modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, that
l174l		I may proceed in my speech.
l175l	Olivia	Are you a comedian?
l176l	Viola	No, my profound heart# and yet—by the very fangs
l177l		of malice I swear—I am not that I play. Are you the
l178l		lady of the house?
l179l	Olivia	If I do not usurp myself, I am.
l180l	Viola	Most certain if you are she you do usurp yourself,
l181l		for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. 			But
l182l		this is from my commission. I will on with my speech
l183l		in your praise, and then show you the heart of my
l184l		message.
l185l	Olivia	Come to what is important in ’t, I forgive you the
l186l		praise.
l187l	Viola	Alas, I took great pains to study it, and ’tis poetical.
l188l	Olivia	It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep
l189l		it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed
l190l		your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear
l191l		you. If you be not mad, be gone. If you have reason,
l192l		be brief. ’Tis not that time of moon with me to make
l193l		one in so skipping a dialogue.
l194l	Maria	Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way.
l195l	Viola	No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer.
		(To Olivia) 
l196l		Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady.
l197l		Tell me your mind, I am a messenger.
l198l	Olivia	Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver
l199l		when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your 			office.
l200l	Viola	It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
l201l		war, no taxation of homage. I hold the olive in my
l202l		hand. My words are as full of peace as matter.
l203l	Olivia	Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would
l204l		you?
l205l	Viola	The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
l206l		learned from my entertainment. What I am and what
l207l		I would are as secret as maidenhead# to your ears,
l208l		divinity# to any others’, profanation.
l209l	Olivia	(to Maria and attendants) Give us the place alone,
l210l		we will hear this divinity.
		(Exeunt Maria and attendants)
l211l		Now sir, what is your text?
l212l	Viola	Most sweet lady—
l213l	Olivia	A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of
l214l		it. Where lies your text?
l215l	Viola	In Orsino’s bosom.
l216l	Olivia	In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
l217l	Viola	To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
l218l	Olivia	O, I have read it. It is heresy. Have you no more
l219l		to say?
l220l	Viola	Good madam, let me see your face.
l221l	Olivia	Have you any commission from your lord to
l222l		negotiate with my face? You are now out of your text.
l223l		But we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
		(She unveils)
l224l		Look you, sir, such a one I was this present. Is ’t not
l225l		well done?
l226l	Viola	Excellently done, if God did all.
l227l	Olivia	’Tis in grain, sir, ’twill endure wind and weather.
l228l	Viola	’Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
l229l		Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
l230l		Lady, you are the cruell’st she alive
l231l		If you will lead these graces to the grave
l232l		And leave the world no copy.
l233l	Olivia	O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. I will give out
l234l		divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried
l235l		and every particle and utensil labelled to my will, as,
l236l		item, two lips, indifferent red# item, two grey eyes, 			with
l237l		lids to them# item, one neck, one chin, and so forth.
l238l		Were you sent hither to praise me?
l239l	Viola	I see you what you are, you are too proud,
l240l		But if you were the devil, you are fair.
l241l		My lord and master loves you. O, such love
l242l		Could be but recompensed though you were crowned
l243l		The nonpareil of beauty.
	Olivia								How does he love me?
l244l	Viola	With adorations, fertile tears,
l245l		With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
l246l	Olivia	Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him.
l247l		Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
l248l		Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth,
l249l		In voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant,
l250l		And in dimension and the shape of nature
l251l		A gracious person# but yet I cannot love him.
l252l		He might have took his answer long ago.
l253l	Viola	If I did love you in my master’s flame,
l254l		With such a suff’ring, such a deadly life,
l255l		In your denial I would find no sense,
l256l		I would not understand it.
	Olivia									Why, what would you?
l257l	Viola	Make me a willow cabin at your gate
l258l		And call upon my soul within the house,
l259l		Write loyal cantons of contemnèd love,
l260l		And sing them loud even in the dead of night#
l261l		Halloo your name to the reverberate hills,
l262l		And make the babbling gossip of the air
l263l		Cry out “Olivia!” O, you should not rest
l264l		Between the elements of air and earth
l265l		But you should pity me.
l266l	Olivia	You might do much.
l267l		What is your parentage?
l268l	Viola	Above my fortunes, yet my state is well.
l269l		I am a gentleman.
	Olivia						Get you to your lord.
l270l		I cannot love him. Let him send no more,
l271l		Unless, perchance, you come to me again
l272l		To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well.
l273l		I thank you for your pains.
		(Offering a purse) 			Spend this for me.
l274l	Viola	I am no fee’d post, lady. Keep your purse.
l275l		My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
l276l		Love make his heart of flint that you shall love,
l277l		And let your fervour, like my master’s, be
l278l		Placed in contempt. Farewell, fair cruelty.
		(Exit)
l279l	Olivia	“What is your parentage?”
l280l		“Above my fortunes, yet my state is well.
l281l		I am a gentleman.” I’ll be sworn thou art.
l282l		Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit
l283l		Do give thee five-fold blazon. Not too fast. Soft, soft—
l284l		Unless the master were the man. How now?
l285l		Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
l286l		Methinks I feel this youth’s perfections
l287l		With an invisible and subtle stealth
l288l		To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
l289l		What ho, Malvolio.
		(Enter Malvolio)
	Malvolio							Here, madam, at your service.
l290l	Olivia	Run after that same peevish messenger
l291l		The County’s man. He left this ring behind him,
l292l		Would I or not. Tell him I’ll none of it.
l293l		Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
l294l		Nor hold him up with hopes. I am not for him.
l295l		If that the youth will come this way tomorrow,
l296l		I’ll give him reasons for ’t. Hie thee, Malvolio.
l297l	Malvolio	Madam, I will.
		(Exit at one door)
l298l	Olivia	I do I know not what, and fear to find
l299l		Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
l300l		Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe.
l301l		What is decreed must be# and be this so.
		(Exit at another door)