The Complete Works of William Shakespeare/The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.iso/shakespr/12th_nit.txt

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    TWELFTH NIGHT


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


ORSINO    Duke of Illyria. (DUKE ORSINO:)

SEBASTIAN    brother to Viola.

ANTONIO    a sea captain, friend to Sebastian.

    A Sea Captain, friend to Viola. (Captain:)


VALENTINE    |
    |  gentlemen attending on the Duke.
CURIO    |


SIR TOBY BELCH    uncle to Olivia.

SIR ANDREW
AGUECHEEK    (SIR ANDREW:)

MALVOLIO    steward to Olivia.


FABIAN        |
        |  servants to Olivia.
FESTE    a Clown  (Clown:)    |


OLIVIA:

VIOLA:

MARIA    Olivia's woman.

    Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians,
    and other Attendants.
    (Priest:)
    (First Officer:)
    (Second Officer:)
    (Servant:)


SCENE    A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it.




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE I    DUKE ORSINO's palace.


    [Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords;
    Musicians attending]

DUKE ORSINO    If music be the food of love, play on;
    Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
    The appetite may sicken, and so die.
    That strain again! it had a dying fall:
    O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
    That breathes upon a bank of violets,
    Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
    'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
    O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
    That, notwithstanding thy capacity
    Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
    Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
    But falls into abatement and low price,
    Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
    That it alone is high fantastical.

CURIO    Will you go hunt, my lord?

DUKE ORSINO    What, Curio?

CURIO    The hart.

DUKE ORSINO            Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
    O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
    Methought she purged the air of pestilence!
    That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
    And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
    E'er since pursue me.

    [Enter VALENTINE]

        How now! what news from her?

VALENTINE    So please my lord, I might not be admitted;
    But from her handmaid do return this answer:
    The element itself, till seven years' heat,
    Shall not behold her face at ample view;
    But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
    And water once a day her chamber round
    With eye-offending brine: all this to season
    A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
    And lasting in her sad remembrance.

DUKE ORSINO    O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
    To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
    How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
    Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
    That live in her; when liver, brain and heart,
    These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
    Her sweet perfections with one self king!
    Away before me to sweet beds of flowers:
    Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE II    The sea-coast.


    [Enter VIOLA, a Captain, and Sailors]

VIOLA    What country, friends, is this?

Captain    This is Illyria, lady.

VIOLA    And what should I do in Illyria?
    My brother he is in Elysium.
    Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?

Captain    It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

VIOLA    O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.

Captain    True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
    Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
    When you and those poor number saved with you
    Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
    Most provident in peril, bind himself,
    Courage and hope both teaching him the practise,
    To a strong mast that lived upon the sea;
    Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
    I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
    So long as I could see.

VIOLA    For saying so, there's gold:
    Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
    Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
    The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

Captain    Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
    Not three hours' travel from this very place.

VIOLA    Who governs here?

Captain    A noble duke, in nature as in name.

VIOLA    What is the name?

Captain    Orsino.

VIOLA    Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
    He was a bachelor then.

Captain    And so is now, or was so very late;
    For but a month ago I went from hence,
    And then 'twas fresh in murmur,--as, you know,
    What great ones do the less will prattle of,--
    That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

VIOLA    What's she?

Captain    A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
    That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
    In the protection of his son, her brother,
    Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
    They say, she hath abjured the company
    And sight of men.

VIOLA                      O that I served that lady
    And might not be delivered to the world,
    Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
    What my estate is!

Captain    That were hard to compass;
    Because she will admit no kind of suit,
    No, not the duke's.

VIOLA    There is a fair behavior in thee, captain;
    And though that nature with a beauteous wall
    Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
    I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
    With this thy fair and outward character.
    I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
    Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
    For such disguise as haply shall become
    The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
    Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him:
    It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing
    And speak to him in many sorts of music
    That will allow me very worth his service.
    What else may hap to time I will commit;
    Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Captain    Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
    When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

VIOLA    I thank thee: lead me on.

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE III    OLIVIA'S house.


    [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]

SIR TOBY BELCH    What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
    her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.

MARIA    By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'
    nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great
    exceptions to your ill hours.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Why, let her except, before excepted.

MARIA    Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
    limits of order.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:
    these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be
    these boots too: an they be not, let them hang
    themselves in their own straps.

MARIA    That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard
    my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish
    knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

MARIA    Ay, he.

SIR TOBY BELCH    He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

MARIA    What's that to the purpose?

SIR TOBY BELCH    Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

MARIA    Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
    he's a very fool and a prodigal.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
    viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
    word for word without book, and hath all the good
    gifts of nature.

MARIA    He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that
    he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that
    he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he
    hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent
    he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

SIR TOBY BELCH    By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
    that say so of him. Who are they?

MARIA    They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

SIR TOBY BELCH    With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to
    her as long as there is a passage in my throat and
    drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill
    that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn
    o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
    Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

    [Enter SIR ANDREW]

SIR ANDREW    Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!

SIR TOBY BELCH    Sweet Sir Andrew!

SIR ANDREW    Bless you, fair shrew.

MARIA    And you too, sir.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

SIR ANDREW    What's that?

SIR TOBY BELCH    My niece's chambermaid.

SIR ANDREW    Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

MARIA    My name is Mary, sir.

SIR ANDREW    Good Mistress Mary Accost,--

SIR TOBY BELCH    You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
    her, woo her, assail her.

SIR ANDREW    By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
    company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'?

MARIA    Fare you well, gentlemen.

SIR TOBY BELCH    An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
    never draw sword again.

SIR ANDREW    An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
    draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have
    fools in hand?

MARIA    Sir, I have not you by the hand.

SIR ANDREW    Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

MARIA    Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
    your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.

SIR ANDREW    Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?

MARIA    It's dry, sir.

SIR ANDREW    Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
    keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?

MARIA    A dry jest, sir.

SIR ANDREW    Are you full of them?

MARIA    Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
    now I let go your hand, I am barren.

    [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH    O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I
    see thee so put down?

SIR ANDREW    Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary
    put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit
    than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a
    great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.

SIR TOBY BELCH    No question.

SIR ANDREW    An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
    to-morrow, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Pourquoi, my dear knight?

SIR ANDREW    What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had
    bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in
    fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but
    followed the arts!

SIR TOBY BELCH    Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

SIR ANDREW    Why, would that have mended my hair?

SIR TOBY BELCH    Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

SIR ANDREW    But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

SIR TOBY BELCH    Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
    hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
    and spin it off.

SIR ANDREW    Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece
    will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one
    she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her.

SIR TOBY BELCH    She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
    her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I
    have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,
    man.

SIR ANDREW    I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the
    strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques
    and revels sometimes altogether.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

SIR ANDREW    As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
    degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
    with an old man.

SIR TOBY BELCH    What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

SIR ANDREW    Faith, I can cut a caper.

SIR TOBY BELCH    And I can cut the mutton to't.

SIR ANDREW    And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
    as any man in Illyria.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have
    these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to
    take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost
    thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in
    a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
    so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
    dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?
    I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
    leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

SIR ANDREW    Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
    flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?

SIR TOBY BELCH    What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

SIR ANDREW    Taurus! That's sides and heart.

SIR TOBY BELCH    No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
    caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE IV    DUKE ORSINO's palace.


    [Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire]

VALENTINE    If the duke continue these favours towards you,
    Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath
    known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

VIOLA    You either fear his humour or my negligence, that
    you call in question the continuance of his love:
    is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?

VALENTINE    No, believe me.

VIOLA    I thank you. Here comes the count.

    [Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and Attendants]

DUKE ORSINO    Who saw Cesario, ho?

VIOLA    On your attendance, my lord; here.

DUKE ORSINO    Stand you a while aloof, Cesario,
    Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
    To thee the book even of my secret soul:
    Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
    Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
    And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
    Till thou have audience.

VIOLA    Sure, my noble lord,
    If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
    As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

DUKE ORSINO    Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds
    Rather than make unprofited return.

VIOLA    Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?

DUKE ORSINO    O, then unfold the passion of my love,
    Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
    It shall become thee well to act my woes;
    She will attend it better in thy youth
    Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.

VIOLA    I think not so, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO    Dear lad, believe it;
    For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
    That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
    Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
    Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
    And all is semblative a woman's part.
    I know thy constellation is right apt
    For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
    All, if you will; for I myself am best
    When least in company. Prosper well in this,
    And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
    To call his fortunes thine.

VIOLA    I'll do my best
    To woo your lady:

    [Aside]

    yet, a barful strife!
    Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT I



SCENE V    OLIVIA'S house.


    [Enter MARIA and Clown]

MARIA    Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will
    not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in
    way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Clown    Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
    world needs to fear no colours.

MARIA    Make that good.

Clown    He shall see none to fear.

MARIA    A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that
    saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.'

Clown    Where, good Mistress Mary?

MARIA    In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clown    Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those
    that are fools, let them use their talents.

MARIA    Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or,
    to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clown    Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and,
    for turning away, let summer bear it out.

MARIA    You are resolute, then?

Clown    Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.

MARIA    That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both
    break, your gaskins fall.

Clown    Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if
    Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
    piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

MARIA    Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my
    lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.

    [Exit]

Clown    Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!
    Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft
    prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may
    pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus?
    'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'

    [Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO]

    God bless thee, lady!

OLIVIA    Take the fool away.

Clown    Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.

OLIVIA    Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
    besides, you grow dishonest.

Clown    Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
    will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
    the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend
    himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
    he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
    that's mended is but patched: virtue that
    transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
    amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
    simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
    what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
    calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
    away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.

OLIVIA    Sir, I bade them take away you.

Clown    Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non
    facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not
    motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to
    prove you a fool.

OLIVIA    Can you do it?

Clown    Dexterously, good madonna.

OLIVIA    Make your proof.

Clown    I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse
    of virtue, answer me.

OLIVIA    Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

Clown    Good madonna, why mournest thou?

OLIVIA    Good fool, for my brother's death.

Clown    I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

OLIVIA    I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

Clown    The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's
    soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.

OLIVIA    What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

MALVOLIO    Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him:
    infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the
    better fool.

Clown    God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the
    better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be
    sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his
    word for two pence that you are no fool.

OLIVIA    How say you to that, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO    I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
    barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day
    with an ordinary fool that has no more brain
    than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard
    already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to
    him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men,
    that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better
    than the fools' zanies.

OLIVIA    Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
    with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
    guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those
    things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets:
    there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do
    nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
    man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clown    Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou
    speakest well of fools!

    [Re-enter MARIA]

MARIA    Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much
    desires to speak with you.

OLIVIA    From the Count Orsino, is it?

MARIA    I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.

OLIVIA    Who of my people hold him in delay?

MARIA    Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

OLIVIA    Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but
    madman: fie on him!

    [Exit MARIA]

    Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I
    am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.

    [Exit MALVOLIO]

    Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and
    people dislike it.

Clown    Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest
    son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with
    brains! for,--here he comes,--one of thy kin has a
    most weak pia mater.

    [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH]

OLIVIA    By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?

SIR TOBY BELCH    A gentleman.

OLIVIA    A gentleman! what gentleman?

SIR TOBY BELCH    'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these
    pickle-herring! How now, sot!

Clown    Good Sir Toby!

OLIVIA    Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?

SIR TOBY BELCH    Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.

OLIVIA    Ay, marry, what is he?

SIR TOBY BELCH    Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
    me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.

    [Exit]

OLIVIA    What's a drunken man like, fool?

Clown    Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one
    draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads
    him; and a third drowns him.

OLIVIA    Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my
    coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's
    drowned: go, look after him.

Clown    He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look
    to the madman.

    [Exit]

    [Re-enter MALVOLIO]

MALVOLIO    Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
    you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to
    understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
    with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to
    have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
    comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him,
    lady? he's fortified against any denial.

OLIVIA    Tell him he shall not speak with me.

MALVOLIO    Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your
    door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to
    a bench, but he'll speak with you.

OLIVIA    What kind o' man is he?

MALVOLIO    Why, of mankind.

OLIVIA    What manner of man?

MALVOLIO    Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no.

OLIVIA    Of what personage and years is he?

MALVOLIO    Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for
    a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
    cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him
    in standing water, between boy and man. He is very
    well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one
    would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

OLIVIA    Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.

MALVOLIO    Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

    [Exit]

    [Re-enter MARIA]

OLIVIA    Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
    We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

    [Enter VIOLA, and Attendants]

VIOLA    The honourable lady of the house, which is she?

OLIVIA    Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
    Your will?

VIOLA    Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,--I
    pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house,
    for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away
    my speech, for besides that it is excellently well
    penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
    beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very
    comptible, even to the least sinister usage.

OLIVIA    Whence came you, sir?

VIOLA    I can say little more than I have studied, and that
    question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me
    modest assurance if you be the lady of the house,
    that I may proceed in my speech.

OLIVIA    Are you a comedian?

VIOLA    No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs
    of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you
    the lady of the house?

OLIVIA    If I do not usurp myself, I am.

VIOLA    Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
    yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
    to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
    on with my speech in your praise, and then show you
    the heart of my message.

OLIVIA    Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.

VIOLA    Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.

OLIVIA    It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you,
    keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates,
    and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you
    than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if
    you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of
    moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

MARIA    Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.

VIOLA    No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little
    longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet
    lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger.

OLIVIA    Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when
    the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.

VIOLA    It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
    war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
    hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.

OLIVIA    Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?

VIOLA    The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
    learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
    would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears,
    divinity, to any other's, profanation.

OLIVIA    Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.

    [Exeunt MARIA and Attendants]

    Now, sir, what is your text?

VIOLA    Most sweet lady,--

OLIVIA    A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.
    Where lies your text?

VIOLA    In Orsino's bosom.

OLIVIA    In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?

VIOLA    To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.

OLIVIA    O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?

VIOLA    Good madam, let me see your face.

OLIVIA    Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate
    with my face? You are now out of your text: but
    we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
    Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't
    not well done?

    [Unveiling]

VIOLA    Excellently done, if God did all.

OLIVIA    'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.

VIOLA    'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
    Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
    Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
    If you will lead these graces to the grave
    And leave the world no copy.

OLIVIA    O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give
    out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
    inventoried, and every particle and utensil
    labelled to my will: as, item, two lips,
    indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to
    them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were
    you sent hither to praise me?

VIOLA    I see you what you are, you are too proud;
    But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
    My lord and master loves you: O, such love
    Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
    The nonpareil of beauty!

OLIVIA    How does he love me?

VIOLA    With adorations, fertile tears,
    With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

OLIVIA    Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him:
    Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
    Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
    In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant;
    And in dimension and the shape of nature
    A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
    He might have took his answer long ago.

VIOLA    If I did love you in my master's flame,
    With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
    In your denial I would find no sense;
    I would not understand it.

OLIVIA    Why, what would you?

VIOLA    Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
    And call upon my soul within the house;
    Write loyal cantons of contemned love
    And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
    Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
    And make the babbling gossip of the air
    Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
    Between the elements of air and earth,
    But you should pity me!

OLIVIA    You might do much.
    What is your parentage?

VIOLA    Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
    I am a gentleman.

OLIVIA                      Get you to your lord;
    I cannot love him: let him send no more;
    Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
    To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
    I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.

VIOLA    I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
    My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
    Love make his heart of flint that you shall love;
    And let your fervor, like my master's, be
    Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty.

    [Exit]

OLIVIA    'What is your parentage?'
    'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
    I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
    Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
    Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast:
    soft, soft!
    Unless the master were the man. How now!
    Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
    Methinks I feel this youth's perfections
    With an invisible and subtle stealth
    To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
    What ho, Malvolio!

    [Re-enter MALVOLIO]

MALVOLIO                      Here, madam, at your service.

OLIVIA    Run after that same peevish messenger,
    The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
    Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it.
    Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
    Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
    If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
    I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio.

MALVOLIO    Madam, I will.

    [Exit]

OLIVIA    I do I know not what, and fear to find
    Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
    Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe;
    What is decreed must be, and be this so.

    [Exit]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE I    The sea-coast.


    [Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN]

ANTONIO    Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you?

SEBASTIAN    By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over
    me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps
    distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your
    leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad
    recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.

ANTONIO: Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.

SEBASTIAN    No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere
    extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a
    touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me
    what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges
    me in manners the rather to express myself. You
    must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian,
    which I called Roderigo. My father was that
    Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard
    of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both
    born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased,
    would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that;
    for some hour before you took me from the breach of
    the sea was my sister drowned.

ANTONIO    Alas the day!

SEBASTIAN    A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled
    me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but,
    though I could not with such estimable wonder
    overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly
    publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but
    call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt
    water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

ANTONIO    Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.

SEBASTIAN    O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

ANTONIO    If you will not murder me for my love, let me be
    your servant.

SEBASTIAN    If you will not undo what you have done, that is,
    kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not.
    Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness,
    and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that
    upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell
    tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell.

    [Exit]

ANTONIO    The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
    I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
    Else would I very shortly see thee there.
    But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
    That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

    [Exit]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE II    A street.


    [Enter VIOLA, MALVOLIO following]

MALVOLIO    Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia?

VIOLA    Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since
    arrived but hither.

MALVOLIO    She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have
    saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself.
    She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord
    into a desperate assurance she will none of him:
    and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to
    come again in his affairs, unless it be to report
    your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.

VIOLA    She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.

MALVOLIO    Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her
    will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth
    stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be
    it his that finds it.

    [Exit]

VIOLA    I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
    Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!
    She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
    That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
    For she did speak in starts distractedly.
    She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
    Invites me in this churlish messenger.
    None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
    I am the man: if it be so, as 'tis,
    Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
    Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
    Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
    How easy is it for the proper-false
    In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
    Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we!
    For such as we are made of, such we be.
    How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly;
    And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
    And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
    What will become of this? As I am man,
    My state is desperate for my master's love;
    As I am woman,--now alas the day!--
    What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
    O time! thou must untangle this, not I;
    It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

    [Exit]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE III    OLIVIA's house.


    [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW]

SIR TOBY BELCH    Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
    midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
    surgere,' thou know'st,--

SIR ANDREW    Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
    late is to be up late.

SIR TOBY BELCH    A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.
    To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is
    early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go
    to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the
    four elements?

SIR ANDREW    Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists
    of eating and drinking.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
    Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

    [Enter Clown]

SIR ANDREW    Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Clown    How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
    of 'we three'?

SIR TOBY BELCH    Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

SIR ANDREW    By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I
    had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg,
    and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In
    sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last
    night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the
    Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas
    very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy
    leman: hadst it?

Clown    I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose
    is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the
    Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

SIR ANDREW    Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all
    is done. Now, a song.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

SIR ANDREW    There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a--

Clown    Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

SIR TOBY BELCH    A love-song, a love-song.

SIR ANDREW    Ay, ay: I care not for good life.

Clown    [Sings]

    O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
    O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,
    That can sing both high and low:
    Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
    Journeys end in lovers meeting,
    Every wise man's son doth know.

SIR ANDREW    Excellent good, i' faith.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Good, good.

Clown    [Sings]

    What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
    Present mirth hath present laughter;
    What's to come is still unsure:
    In delay there lies no plenty;
    Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
    Youth's a stuff will not endure.

SIR ANDREW    A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

SIR TOBY BELCH    A contagious breath.

SIR ANDREW    Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

SIR TOBY BELCH    To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
    But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we
    rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three
    souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?

SIR ANDREW    An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.

Clown    By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

SIR ANDREW    Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'

Clown    'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be
    constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

SIR ANDREW    'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to
    call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.'

Clown    I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

SIR ANDREW    Good, i' faith. Come, begin.

    [Catch sung]

    [Enter MARIA]

MARIA    What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady
    have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him
    turn you out of doors, never trust me.

SIR TOBY BELCH    My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
    a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not
    I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
    Tillyvally. Lady!

    [Sings]

    'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'

Clown    Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

SIR ANDREW    Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do
    I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it
    more natural.

SIR TOBY BELCH    [Sings]  'O, the twelfth day of December,'--

MARIA    For the love o' God, peace!

    [Enter MALVOLIO]

MALVOLIO    My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
    no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
    tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an
    alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your
    coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
    of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor
    time in you?

SIR TOBY BELCH    We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

MALVOLIO    Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me
    tell you, that, though she harbours you as her
    kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If
    you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you
    are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please
    you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid
    you farewell.

SIR TOBY BELCH    'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'

MARIA    Nay, good Sir Toby.

Clown    'His eyes do show his days are almost done.'

MALVOLIO    Is't even so?

SIR TOBY BELCH    'But I will never die.'

Clown    Sir Toby, there you lie.

MALVOLIO    This is much credit to you.

SIR TOBY BELCH    'Shall I bid him go?'

Clown    'What an if you do?'

SIR TOBY BELCH    'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'

Clown    'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'

SIR TOBY BELCH    Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a
    steward? Dost thou think, because thou art
    virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Clown    Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the
    mouth too.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
    crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

MALVOLIO    Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any
    thing more than contempt, you would not give means
    for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.

    [Exit]

MARIA    Go shake your ears.

SIR ANDREW    'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's
    a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to
    break promise with him and make a fool of him.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll
    deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

MARIA    Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the
    youth of the count's was today with thy lady, she is
    much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me
    alone with him: if I do not gull him into a
    nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not
    think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:
    I know I can do it.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.

MARIA    Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

SIR ANDREW    O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!

SIR TOBY BELCH    What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
    dear knight?

SIR ANDREW    I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason
    good enough.

MARIA    The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
    constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass,
    that cons state without book and utters it by great
    swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so
    crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is
    his grounds of faith that all that look on him love
    him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find
    notable cause to work.

SIR TOBY BELCH    What wilt thou do?

MARIA    I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
    love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
    of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure
    of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find
    himself most feelingly personated. I can write very
    like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we
    can hardly make distinction of our hands.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Excellent! I smell a device.

SIR ANDREW    I have't in my nose too.

SIR TOBY BELCH    He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
    that they come from my niece, and that she's in
    love with him.

MARIA    My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.

SIR ANDREW    And your horse now would make him an ass.

MARIA    Ass, I doubt not.

SIR ANDREW    O, 'twill be admirable!

MARIA    Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will
    work with him. I will plant you two, and let the
    fool make a third, where he shall find the letter:
    observe his construction of it. For this night, to
    bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.

    [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH    Good night, Penthesilea.

SIR ANDREW    Before me, she's a good wench.

SIR TOBY BELCH    She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me:
    what o' that?

SIR ANDREW    I was adored once too.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for
    more money.

SIR ANDREW    If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
    the end, call me cut.

SIR ANDREW    If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late
    to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT II



SCENE IV    DUKE ORSINO's palace.


    [Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and others]

DUKE ORSINO    Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
    Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
    That old and antique song we heard last night:
    Methought it did relieve my passion much,
    More than light airs and recollected terms
    Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
    Come, but one verse.

CURIO    He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.

DUKE ORSINO    Who was it?

CURIO    Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady
    Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house.

DUKE ORSINO    Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

    [Exit CURIO. Music plays]

    Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,
    In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
    For such as I am all true lovers are,
    Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
    Save in the constant image of the creature
    That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?

VIOLA    It gives a very echo to the seat
    Where Love is throned.

DUKE ORSINO    Thou dost speak masterly:
    My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
    Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
    Hath it not, boy?

VIOLA                      A little, by your favour.

DUKE ORSINO    What kind of woman is't?

VIOLA    Of your complexion.

DUKE ORSINO    She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?

VIOLA    About your years, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO    Too old by heaven: let still the woman take
    An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
    So sways she level in her husband's heart:
    For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
    Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
    More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
    Than women's are.

VIOLA                      I think it well, my lord.

DUKE ORSINO    Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
    Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
    For women are as roses, whose fair flower
    Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

VIOLA    And so they are: alas, that they are so;
    To die, even when they to perfection grow!

    [Re-enter CURIO and Clown]

DUKE ORSINO    O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
    Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
    The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
    And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
    Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
    And dallies with the innocence of love,
    Like the old age.

Clown    Are you ready, sir?

DUKE ORSINO    Ay; prithee, sing.

    [Music]

    SONG.
Clown    Come away, come away, death,
    And in sad cypress let me be laid;
    Fly away, fly away breath;
    I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
    My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
    O, prepare it!
    My part of death, no one so true
    Did share it.
    Not a flower, not a flower sweet
    On my black coffin let there be strown;
    Not a friend, not a friend greet
    My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
    A thousand thousand sighs to save,
    Lay me, O, where
    Sad true lover never find my grave,
    To weep there!

DUKE ORSINO    There's for thy pains.

Clown    No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir.

DUKE ORSINO    I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clown    Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

DUKE ORSINO    Give me now leave to leave thee.

Clown    Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
    tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for
    thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such
    constancy put to sea, that their business might be
    every thing and their intent every where; for that's
    it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

    [Exit]

DUKE ORSINO    Let all the rest give place.

    [CURIO and Attendants retire]

               Once more, Cesario,
    Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
    Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
    Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
    The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
    Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
    But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
    That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.

VIOLA    But if she cannot love you, sir?

DUKE ORSINO    I cannot be so answer'd.

VIOLA    Sooth, but you must.
    Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
    Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
    As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
    You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd?

DUKE ORSINO    There is no woman's sides
    Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
    As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
    So big, to hold so much; they lack retention
    Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
    No motion of the liver, but the palate,
    That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
    But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
    And can digest as much: make no compare
    Between that love a woman can bear me
    And that I owe Olivia.

VIOLA    Ay, but I know--

DUKE ORSINO    What dost thou know?

VIOLA    Too well what love women to men may owe:
    In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
    My father had a daughter loved a man,
    As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
    I should your lordship.

DUKE ORSINO    And what's her history?

VIOLA    A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
    But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
    Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
    And with a green and yellow melancholy
    She sat like patience on a monument,
    Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
    We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
    Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
    Much in our vows, but little in our love.

DUKE ORSINO    But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

VIOLA    I am all the daughters of my father's house,
    And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
    Sir, shall I to this lady?

DUKE ORSINO    Ay, that's the theme.
    To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
    My love can give no place, bide no denay.

    [Exeunt]




    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'
    favour 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.

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.

    [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!

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.

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 humour of state; and after a
    demure travel of regard, telling them I know my
    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 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.

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 humour intimate reading
    aloud to him!

MALVOLIO    By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her
    very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her
    great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

SIR 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: 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:
    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 cheques 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
    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.

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
    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
    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,
                 THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.'
    Daylight and champaign 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
    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.'
    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.

    [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
    his first approach before my lady: he will come to
    her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she
    abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;
    and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
    unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a
    melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him
    into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow
    me.

SIR TOBY BELCH    To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

SIR ANDREW    I'll make one too.

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT III



SCENE I    OLIVIA's garden.


    [Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabour]

VIOLA    Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
    thy tabour?

Clown    No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA    Art thou a churchman?

Clown    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
    tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.

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

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

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

VIOLA    Why, man?

Clown    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?

Clown    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 carest for nothing.

Clown    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?

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

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

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

VIOLA    Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
    Hold, there's expenses for thee.

Clown    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?

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

VIOLA    Yes, being kept together and put to use.

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

VIOLA    I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.

Clown    The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but
    a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is
    within, sir. I will construe to them whence you
    come; who you are and what you would are out of my
    welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn.

    [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, cheque at every feather
    That comes before his eye. This is a practise
    As full of labour as a wise man's art
    For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
    But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

    [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW]

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

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

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

VIOLA    I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we
    are prevented.

    [Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]

    Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
    odours on you!

SIR ANDREW    That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well.

VIOLA    My matter hath no voice, 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 BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA]

    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 call'd compliment:
    You're 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 fill'd 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 the unmuzzled thoughts
    That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
    Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
    Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak.

VIOLA    I pity you.

OLIVIA              That's a degree to love.

VIOLA    No, not a grize; 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 were is alike 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 thinkest 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    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.
    Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
    By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing,
    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 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]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT III



SCENE II    OLIVIA's house.


    [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN]

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

SIR TOBY BELCH    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 serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me;
    I saw't i' the orchard.

SIR TOBY BELCH    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
    judgment and reason.

SIR TOBY BELCH    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 BELCH    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 BELCH    Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief;
    it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun
    of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink:
    if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be
    amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of
    paper, although the sheet were big enough for the
    bed of Ware in England, set 'em down: go, about it.
    Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou
    write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it.

SIR ANDREW    Where shall I find you?

SIR TOBY BELCH    We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go.

    [Exit SIR ANDREW]

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

SIR TOBY BELCH    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't?

SIR TOBY BELCH    Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the
    youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes
    cannot hale them together. For 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 BELCH    Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes.

MARIA    If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself
    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 BELCH    And cross-gartered?

MARIA    Most villanously; 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't for a great favour.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Come, bring us, bring us where he is.

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT III



SCENE III    A street.


    [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    To-morrow, 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'ld 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 answer'd.

SEBASTIAN    Belike you slew great number of his people.

ANTONIO    The 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 answer'd 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 the Elephant.

SEBASTIAN                      I do remember.

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT III



SCENE IV    OLIVIA's garden.


    [Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]

OLIVIA    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 begg'd or borrow'd.
    I speak too loud.
    Where is 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.

    [Re-enter MARIA, with MALVOLIO]

    How now, Malvolio!

MALVOLIO    Sweet lady, ho, ho.

OLIVIA    Smilest 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, sweet-heart, 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 meanest 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 desirest 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
    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 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 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, every thing
    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 BELCH and FABIAN]

SIR TOBY BELCH    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 BELCH    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 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 BELCH    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 BELCH    Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck?

MALVOLIO    Sir!

SIR TOBY BELCH    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]

SIR TOBY BELCH    Is't possible?

FABIAN    If this were played upon a stage now, I could
    condemn it as an improbable fiction.

SIR TOBY BELCH    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 BELCH    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: 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 BELCH    Give me.

    [Reads]

    'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.'

FABIAN    Good, and valiant.

SIR TOBY BELCH    [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 BELCH    [Reads]  'Thou comest 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 BELCH    [Reads]  'I will waylay thee going home; where if it
    be thy chance to kill me,'--

FABIAN    Good.

SIR TOBY BELCH    [Reads]  'Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.'

FABIAN    Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: good.

SIR TOBY BELCH    [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 BELCH    Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner 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 BELCH    Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behavior
    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.

    [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 BELCH    I will meditate the while upon some horrid message
    for a challenge.

    [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, 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 'havior that your passion bears
    Goes on my master's grief.

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 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 to-morrow: fare thee well:
    A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.

    [Exit]

    [Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN]

SIR TOBY BELCH    Gentleman, God save thee.

VIOLA    And you, sir.

SIR TOBY BELCH    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 BELCH    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 BELCH    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 BELCH    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 BELCH    I will do so. Signior 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.

    [Exeunt]

    [Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH, with SIR ANDREW]

SIR TOBY BELCH    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.

SIR ANDREW    Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.

SIR TOBY BELCH    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'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld
    have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip,
    and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

SIR TOBY BELCH    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    He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and
    looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

SIR TOBY BELCH    [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 BELCH    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!

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

    [They draw]

    [Enter ANTONIO]

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 BELCH    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 BELCH    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 BELCH    I'll be with you anon.

VIOLA    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 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,
    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 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 BELCH    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 BELCH    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 BELCH    Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

SIR ANDREW    An I do not,--

FABIAN    Come, let's see the event.

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

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


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 BELCH, and FABIAN]

SIR ANDREW    Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you.

SEBASTIAN    Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. Are all
    the people mad?

SIR TOBY BELCH    Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

Clown    This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be
    in some of your coats for two pence.

    [Exit]

SIR TOBY BELCH    Come on, sir; hold.

SIR ANDREW    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 BELCH    Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young
    soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.

SEBASTIAN    I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If
    thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.

SIR TOBY BELCH    What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two
    of this malapert blood from you.

    [Enter OLIVIA]

OLIVIA    Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge thee, hold!

SIR TOBY BELCH    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 BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN]

    I prithee, gentle friend,
    Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
    In this uncivil and thou 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'ldst be ruled by me!

SEBASTIAN    Madam, I will.

OLIVIA                      O, say so, and so be!

    [Exeunt]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT IV



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 BELCH and MARIA]

SIR TOBY BELCH    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 a 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 BELCH    To him, Sir Topas.

Clown    What, ho, I say! peace in this prison!

SIR TOBY BELCH    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 BELCH    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:
    sayest thou that house is dark?

MALVOLIO    As hell, Sir Topas.

Clown    Why it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes,
    and the clearstores 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 abused. 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 thinkest 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 the 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 BELCH    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 BELCH    To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how
    thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this
    knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, 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.

    [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]

Clown    [Singing]

    'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
    Tell me how thy lady does.'

MALVOLIO    Fool!

Clown    'My lady is unkind, perdy.'

MALVOLIO    Fool!

Clown    'Alas, why is she so?'

MALVOLIO    Fool, I say!

Clown    '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 a man so notoriously abused: 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.
    Malvolio, 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 be wi' you, good Sir Topas.
    Merry, 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
    prithee, 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, good man devil.

    [Exit]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT IV



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 deceiveable. 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 full 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]




    TWELFTH NIGHT


ACT V



SCENE I    Before OLIVIA's house.


    [Enter Clown and FABIAN]

FABIAN    Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.

Clown    Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

FABIAN    Any thing.

Clown    Do not desire to see this letter.

FABIAN    This is, to give a dog, and in recompense desire my
    dog again.

    [Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and Lords]

DUKE ORSINO    Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Clown    Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings.

DUKE ORSINO    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 ORSINO    Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

Clown    No, sir, the worse.

DUKE ORSINO    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 ORSINO    Why, this is excellent.

Clown    By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be
    one of my friends.

DUKE ORSINO    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 ORSINO    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 ORSINO    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 ORSINO    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]

VIOLA    Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.

    [Enter ANTONIO and Officers]

DUKE ORSINO    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 bawbling 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 loss
    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 ORSINO    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 pleased 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 enraged and foamy mouth
    Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:
    His life I gave him and did thereto add
    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 ORSINO    When came he to this town?

ANTONIO    To-day, my lord; and for three months before,
    No interim, not a minute's vacancy,
    Both day and night did we keep company.

    [Enter OLIVIA and Attendants]

DUKE ORSINO    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 ORSINO    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 ORSINO    Still so cruel?

OLIVIA    Still so constant, lord.

DUKE ORSINO    What, to perverseness? you uncivil lady,
    To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
    My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out
    That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?

OLIVIA    Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.

DUKE ORSINO    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 sometimes 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 beguiled!

VIOLA    Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

OLIVIA    Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long?
    Call forth the holy father.

DUKE ORSINO    Come, away!

OLIVIA    Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.

DUKE ORSINO    Husband!

OLIVIA           Ay, husband: can he that deny?

DUKE ORSINO    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,
    Strengthen'd 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 ORSINO    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 hast too much fear.

    [Enter SIR ANDREW]

SIR ANDREW    For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently
    to Sir Toby.

OLIVIA    What's the matter?

SIR ANDREW    He 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?

SIR ANDREW    The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for
    a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

DUKE ORSINO    My gentleman, Cesario?

SIR ANDREW    'Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for
    nothing; and that that I 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 bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.

SIR ANDREW    If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I
    think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.

    [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and Clown]

    Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more:
    but if he had not been in drink, he would have
    tickled you othergates than he did.

DUKE ORSINO    How now, gentleman! how is't with you?

SIR TOBY BELCH    That's all one: has hurt me, and there's the 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' the morning.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I
    hate a drunken rogue.

OLIVIA    Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?

SIR ANDREW    I'll help you, Sir Toby, because well be dressed together.

SIR TOBY BELCH    Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a
    knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull!

OLIVIA    Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.

    [Exeunt Clown, FABIAN, SIR TOBY BELCH, 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 ORSINO    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 tortured 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 every where. 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 number'd 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 preserved 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, deceived,
    You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.

DUKE ORSINO    Be not amazed; 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 those swearings keep as true in soul
    As doth that orbed continent the fire
    That severs day from night.

DUKE ORSINO    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 staves'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 delivered.

OLIVIA    Open't, and read it.

Clown    Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers
    the madman.

    [Reads]

    '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    Read it you, sirrah.

    [To FABIAN]

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-USED MALVOLIO.'

OLIVIA    Did he write this?

Clown    Ay, madam.

DUKE ORSINO    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 the alliance on't, so please you,
    Here at my house and at my proper cost.

DUKE ORSINO    Madam, I am most apt to 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
    Your master's mistress.

OLIVIA    A sister! you are she.

    [Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO]

DUKE ORSINO    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, nor 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 gull
    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 camest in smiling,
    And in such forms which here were presupposed
    Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content:
    This practise 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 wonder'd 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 conceived 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 baffled 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 gagged:'
    and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

MALVOLIO    I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.

    [Exit]

OLIVIA    He hath been most notoriously abused.

DUKE ORSINO    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, except 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, &c.
    'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
    For the rain, &c.

    But when I came, alas! to wive,
    With hey, ho, &c.
    By swaggering could I never thrive,
    For the rain, &c.

    But when I came unto my beds,
    With hey, ho, &c.
    With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
    For the rain, &c.

    A great while ago the world begun,
    With hey, ho, &c.
    But that's all one, our play is done,
    And we'll strive to please you every day.

    [Exit]




    TROILUS AND CRESSIDA


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


PRIAM    king of Troy.


HECTOR    |
    |
TROILUS    |
    |
PARIS    |  his sons.
    |
DEIPHOBUS    |
    |
HELENUS    |


MARGARELON    a bastard son of Priam.


AENEAS    |
    |  Trojan commanders.
ANTENOR    |


CALCHAS    a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks.

PANDARUS    uncle to Cressida.

AGAMEMNON    the Grecian general.

MENELAUS    his brother.


ACHILLES    |
    |
AJAX    |
    |
ULYSSES    |
    |  Grecian princes.
NESTOR    |
    |
DIOMEDES    |
    |
PATROCLUS    |


THERSITES    a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.

ALEXANDER    servant to Cressida.

    Servant to Troilus. (Boy:)

    Servant to Paris.

    Servant to Diomedes. (Servant:)

HELEN    wife to Menelaus.

ANDROMACHE    wife to Hector.

CASSANDRA    daughter to Priam, a prophetess.

CRESSIDA    daughter to Calchas.

    Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.


SCENE    Troy, and the Grecian camp before it.




    TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

    PROLOGUE


    In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
    The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed,
    Have to the port of Athens sent their ships,
    Fraught with the ministers and instruments
    Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore
    Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay
    Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made
    To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures
    The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
    With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
    To Tenedos they come;
    And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
    Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains
    The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
    Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,
    Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,
    And Antenorides, with massy staples
    And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
    Sperr up the sons of Troy.
    Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
    On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,
    Sets all on hazard: and hither am I come
    A prologue arm'd, but not in confidence
    Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited
    In like conditions as our argument,
    To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
    Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
    Beginning in the middle, starting thence away
    To what may be digested in a play.
    Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are:
    Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.




    TROILUS AND CRESSIDA


ACT I



SCENE I    Troy. Before Priam's palace.


    [Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS]

TROILUS    Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again:
    Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
    That find such cruel battle here within?
    Each Trojan that is master of his heart,
    Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.

PANDARUS    Will this gear ne'er be mended?

TROILUS    The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength,
    Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness valiant;
    But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
    Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
    Less valiant than the virgin in the night
    And skilless as unpractised infancy.

PANDARUS    Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part,
    I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will
    have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding.

TROILUS    Have I not tarried?

PANDARUS    Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry
    the bolting.

TROILUS    Have I not tarried?

PANDARUS    Ay, the bolting, but you must tarry the leavening.

TROILUS    Still have I tarried.

PANDARUS    Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word
    'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the
    heating of the oven and the baking; nay, you must
    stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.

TROILUS    Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
    Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do.
    At Priam's royal table do I sit;
    And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,--
    So, traitor! 'When she comes!' When is she thence?

PANDARUS    Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw
    her look, or any woman else.

TROILUS    I was about to tell thee:--when my heart,
    As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,
    Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
    I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,
    Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile:
    But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
    Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

PANDARUS    An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's--
    well, go to--there were no more comparison between
    the women: but, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I
    would not, as they term it, praise her: but I would
    somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I
    will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but--

TROILUS    O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,--
    When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,
    Reply not in how many fathoms deep
    They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad
    In Cressid's love: thou answer'st 'she is fair;'
    Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
    Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,
    Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand,
    In whose comparison all whites are ink,
    Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
    The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense
    Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'st me,
    As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
    But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
    Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
    The knife that made it.

PANDARUS    I speak no more than truth.

TROILUS    Thou dost not speak so much.

PANDARUS    Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is:
    if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be
    not, she has the mends in her own hands.

TROILUS    Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus!

PANDARUS    I have had my labour for my travail; ill-thought on of
    her and ill-thought on of you; gone between and
    between, but small thanks for my labour.

TROILUS    What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?

PANDARUS    Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair
    as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as
    fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care
    I? I care not an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me.

TROILUS    Say I she is not fair?

PANDARUS    I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to
    stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so
    I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part,
    I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter.

TROILUS    Pandarus,--

PANDARUS    Not I.

TROILUS    Sweet Pandarus,--

PANDARUS    Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I
    found it, and there an end.

    [Exit PANDARUS. An alarum]

TROILUS    Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!
    Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
    When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
    I cannot fight upon this argument;
    It is too starved a subject for my sword.
    But Pandarus,--O gods, how do you plague me!
    I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;
    And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo.
    As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
    Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
    What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
    Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl:
    Between our Ilium and where she resides,
    Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood,
    Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar
    Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark.

    [Alarum. Enter AENEAS]

AENEAS    How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield?

TROILUS    Because not there: this woman's answer sorts,
    For womanish it is to be from thence.
    What news, AEneas, from the field to-day?

AENEAS    That Paris is returned home and hurt.

TROILUS    By whom, AEneas?

AENEAS                      Troilus, by Menelaus.

TROILUS    Let Paris bleed; 'tis but a scar to scorn;
    Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn.

    [Alarum]

AENEAS    Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day!

TROILUS    Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.'
    But to the sport abroad: are you bound thither?

AENEAS    In all swift haste.

TROILUS    Come, go we then together.

    [Exeunt]