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- $Unique_ID{SSP01010}
- $Title{Twelfth Night: Act II, Scene V}
- $Author{Shakespeare, William}
- $Subject{}
- $Log{Dramatis Personae*01000.txt}
-
- Portions copyright (c) CMC ReSearch, Inc., 1989
-
- The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
-
- TWELFTH NIGHT
-
-
- ACT II
- ................................................................................
-
-
- SCENE V: OLIVIA's garden.
- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
-
- {Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN.}
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
-
- FABIAN: Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport,
- let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly
- rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
-
- FABIAN: I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o'
- favor with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will
- fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?
-
- SIR ANDREW: An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 10
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Here comes the little villain.
-
- {Enter MARIA.}
-
- How now, my metal of India!
-
- MARIA: Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's
- coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the
- sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half
- hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I
- know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of
- him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there,
-
- [Throws down a letter.]
-
- for here comes the trout that must be caught with
- tickling. 20
-
- [Exit.]
-
- {Enter MALVOLIO.}
-
- MALVOLIO: 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
- me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come
- thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one
- of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more
- exalted respect than any one else that follows her.
- What should I think on't?
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Here's an overweening rogue!
-
- FABIAN: O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock
- of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
-
- SIR ANDREW: 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue! 30
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Peace, I say.
-
- MALVOLIO: To be Count Malvolio!
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Ah, rogue!
-
- SIR ANDREW: Pistol him, pistol him.
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Peace, peace!
-
- MALVOLIO: There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy
- married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
-
- SIR ANDREW: Fie on him, Jezebel!
-
- FABIAN: O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how
- imagination blows him. 40
-
- MALVOLIO: Having been three months married to her, sitting in
- my state,--
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
-
- MALVOLIO: Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet
- gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left
- Olivia sleeping,--
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Fire and brimstone!
-
- FABIAN: O, peace, peace!
-
- MALVOLIO: And then to have the humor of state; and after a
- demure travel of regard, telling them I know my 50
- place as I would they should do theirs, to for my
- kinsman Toby,--
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Bolts and shackles!
-
- FABIAN: O peace, peace, peace! now, now.
-
- MALVOLIO: Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make
- out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind
- up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby
- approaches; courtesies there to me,--
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Shall this fellow live?
-
- FABIAN: Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet 60
- peace.
-
- MALVOLIO: I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar
- smile with an austere regard of control,--
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?
-
- MALVOLIO: Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on
- your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'--
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: What, what?
-
- MALVOLIO: 'You must amend your drunkenness.'
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Out, scab!
-
- FABIAN: Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. 70
-
- MALVOLIO: 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with
- a foolish knight,'--
-
- SIR ANDREW: That's me, I warrant you.
-
- MALVOLIO: 'One Sir Andrew,'--
-
- SIR ANDREW: I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.
-
- MALVOLIO: What employment have we here?
-
- [Taking up the letter.]
-
- FABIAN: Now is the woodcock near the gin.
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: O, peace! and the spirit of humor intimate reading
- aloud to him!
-
- MALVOLIO: By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her 80
- very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her
- great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her
- hand.
-
- SIR ANDREW: Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that?
-
- MALVOLIO: [Reads] 'To the unknown beloved, this, and my good
- wishes:'--her very phrases! By your leave, wax.
- Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she
- uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?
-
- FABIAN: This wins him, liver and all.
-
- MALVOLIO: [Reads]
-
- Jove knows I love: 90
- But who?
- Lips, do not move;
- No man must know.
- 'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers
- altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be
- thee, Malvolio?
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Marry, hang thee, brock!
-
- MALVOLIO: [Reads]
- I may command where I adore;
- But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
- With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore: 100
- M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
-
- FABIAN: A fustian riddle!
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Excellent wench, say I.
-
- MALVOLIO: 'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let
- me see, let me see, let me see.
-
- FABIAN: What dish o' poison has she dressed him!
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: And with what wing the staniel checks at it!
-
- MALVOLIO: 'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command
- me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is
- evident to any formal capacity; there is no 110
- obstruction in this: and the end,--what should
- that alphabetical position portend? If I could make
- that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A,
- I,--
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent.
-
- FABIAN: Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as
- rank as a fox.
-
- MALVOLIO: M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name.
-
- FABIAN: Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is
- excellent at faults. 120
-
- MALVOLIO: M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel;
- that suffers under probation A should follow but O
- does.
-
- FABIAN: And O shall end, I hope.
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!
-
- MALVOLIO: And then I comes behind.
-
- FABIAN: Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see
- more detraction at your heels than fortunes before
- you.
-
- MALVOLIO: M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and 130
- yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for
- every one of these letters are in my name. Soft!
- here follows prose.
-
- [Reads.]
-
- 'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I
- am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some
- are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
- have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open
- their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them;
- and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be,
- cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be 140
- opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let
- thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into
- the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee
- that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy
- yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever
- cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art
- made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see
- thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and
- not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell.
- She that would alter services with thee, 150
- THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.'
- Daylight and champain discovers not more: this is
- open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors,
- I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross
- acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man.
- I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade
- me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady
- loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of
- late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered;
- and in this she manifests herself to my love, and 160
- with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits
- of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will
- be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and
- cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting
- on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
- postscript.
-
- [Reads.]
-
- 'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
- entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling;
- thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my
- presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.' 170
- Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do
- everything that thou wilt have me.
-
- [Exit.]
-
- FABIAN: I will not give my part of this sport for a pension
- of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: I could marry this wench for this device.
-
- SIR ANDREW: So could I too.
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: And ask no other dowry with her but such another
- jest.
-
- SIR ANDREW: Nor I neither.
-
- FABIAN: Here comes my noble gull-catcher. 180
-
- {Re-enter MARIA.}
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
-
- SIR ANDREW: Or o' mine either?
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy
- bond-slave?
-
- SIR ANDREW: I' faith, or I either?
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when
- the image of it leaves him he must run mad.
-
- MARIA: Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.
-
- MARIA: If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark 190
- his first approach before my lady: he will come to
- her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she
- abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;
- and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
- unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a
- melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him
- into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow
- me.
-
- SIR TOBY BELCH: To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil
- of wit!
-
- SIR ANDREW: I'll make one too.
-
- [Exeunt.]
-