Twelfth Night Read online

  Eve's flesh25 as any in Illyria.

  MARIA Peace, you rogue, no more o'that. Here comes my

  lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.27

  [Exit]

  Enter Lady Olivia with Malvolio [and Attendants]

  Aside

  FESTE Wit, an't28 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?31 'Better a witty fool than a

  To Olivia

  foolish wit.'-- God bless thee, lady.

  To Attendants

  OLIVIA Take the fool away.

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

  OLIVIA Go to, you're a dry35 fool. I'll no more of you. Besides,

  you grow dishonest.36

  FESTE Two faults, Madonna37, that drink and good counsel

  will amend. For give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not

  dry: bid the dishonest man mend39 himself. If he mend, he is

  no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher40 mend him.

  Anything that's mended is but patched41: virtue that

  transgresses is but patched with sin, and sin that amends is

  but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism43 will

  serve, so. If it will not, what remedy? As there is no true44

  cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower.45 The lady bade

  take away the fool: therefore, I say again, take her away.

  OLIVIA Sir, I bade them take away you.

  FESTE Misprision48 in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non

  facit monachum: that's as much to say as I wear not motley49 in

  my brain. Good madonna, give me leave50 to prove you a fool.

  OLIVIA Can you do it?

  FESTE Dexteriously52, good madonna.

  OLIVIA Make your proof.

  FESTE I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good my54

  mouse of virtue, answer me.

  OLIVIA Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide56 your

  proof.

  FESTE Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?

  OLIVIA Good fool, for my brother's death.

  FESTE I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

  OLIVIA I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

  FESTE 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?66

  MALVOLIO Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him.

  Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better

  fool.

  FESTE God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better

  increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox71,

  but he will not pass72 his word for twopence 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 with76 an

  ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone.77 Look you

  now, he's out of his guard78 already. Unless you laugh and

  minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest79, I take these

  wise men, that crow so at these set80 kind of fools, no better

  than the fools' zanies.81

  OLIVIA O, you are sick of82 self-love, Malvolio, and taste with

  a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless and of free83

  disposition is to take those things for bird-bolts84 that you

  deem cannon-bullets. There is no slander in an allowed85 fool,

  though he do nothing but rail86; nor no railing in a known

  discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.87

  FESTE Now Mercury endue thee with leasing88, for thou

  speak'st well of fools.

  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. Fie98 on him!--

  [Exit Maria]

  Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or

  not at home. What you will100, to dismiss it.--

  Exit Malvolio

  Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old101, and people

  dislike it.

  FESTE Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest

  son should be a fool, whose skull Jove104 cram with brains,

  for -- here he comes --

  Enter Sir Toby

  one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.106

  To Sir Toby

  OLIVIA By mine honour, half drunk.--

  What is he at the gate, cousin?

  SIR TOBY A gentleman.

  OLIVIA A gentleman? What gentleman?

  Belches/To Feste

  SIR TOBY 'Tis a gentleman here--

  a plague o'these pickle herring!-- How now, sot?112

  FESTE Good Sir Toby!

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

  lethargy?115

  SIR TOBY Lechery? I defy lechery. There's one116 at the gate.

  OLIVIA Ay, marry, what is he?

  SIR TOBY Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not. Give me

  faith, say I. Well, it's all one.119

  Exit

  OLIVIA What's a drunken man like, fool?

  FESTE Like a drowned man, a fool and a madman: one121

  draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him,

  and a third drowns123 him.

  OLIVIA Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o'my124

  coz, for he's in the third degree of drink: he's drowned. Go

  look after him.

  FESTE He is but mad yet, madonna, and the fool shall look

  to the madman.

  [Exit]

  Enter Malvolio

  MALVOLIO Madam, yond129 young fellow swears he will speak

  with you. I told him you were sick, he takes on him to130

  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 He's been told so, and he says he'll stand at your

  door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench138, but

  he'll speak with you.

  OLIVIA What kind o'man is he?

  MALVOLIO Why, of mankind.141

  OLIVIA What manner of man?

  MALVOLIO Of very ill manner. He'll speak with you, will you143

  or no.

  OLIVIA Of what personage145 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 codling147

  when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him in standing water148,

  between boy and man. He is very well-favoured149 and he

  speaks very shrewishly.150 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

  Enter Maria

  OLIVIA Give me my veil. Come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear Orsi
no's embassy.155

  She is veiled

  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 away160 my speech, for besides

  that it is excellently well penned161, I have taken great pains to

  con it. Good beauties, let me sustain162 no scorn; I am very

  comptible, even to the least sinister163 usage.

  OLIVIA Whence came you, sir?

  VIOLA I can say little more than I have studied165, and that

  question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest166

  assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may

  proceed in my speech.

  OLIVIA Are you a comedian?169

  VIOLA No, my profound heart.170 And yet, by the very fangs

  of malice, I swear I am not that I play.171 Are you the lady of the

  house?

  OLIVIA If I do not usurp173 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.175 But this is

  from my commission.176 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 forgive178 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.181

  I heard you were saucy182 at my gates, and allowed your

  approach rather to wonder183 at you than to hear you. If you be

  not mad, be gone. If you have reason, be brief. 'Tis not that184

  time of moon with me to make one in so skipping185 a dialogue.

  MARIA Will you hoist sail186, sir? Here lies your way.

  VIOLA No, good swabber, I am to hull187 here a little longer.

  Some mollification for your giant188, 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.191

  VIOLA It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture192 of

  war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive193 in my hand. My

  words are as full of peace as matter.194

  OLIVIA Yet you began rudely.195 What are you? What would

  you?

  VIOLA The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I

  learned from my entertainment.198 What I am, and what I

  would, are as secret as maidenhead: to your ears, divinity199: to

  any other's, profanation.200

  OLIVIA Give us the place alone. We will hear this divinity.

  [Exeunt Maria and Attendants]

  Now, sir, what is your text?202

  VIOLA Most sweet lady--

  OLIVIA A comfortable204 doctrine, and much may be said of it.

  Where lies your text?

  VIOLA In Orsino's bosom.206

  OLIVIA In his bosom? In what chapter207 of his bosom?

  VIOLA To answer by the method208, 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 of213 your text. But we will draw the curtain214 and show you the picture.

  Unveils

  Look you, sir, such a one I was this present.215 Is't not well

  done?

  VIOLA Excellently done, if God did all.217

  OLIVIA 'Tis in grain218, sir, 'twill endure wind and weather.

  VIOLA 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white219

  Nature's own sweet and cunning220 hand laid on.

  Lady, you are the cruell'st she221 alive,

  If you will lead these graces222 to the grave

  And leave the world no copy.223

  OLIVIA O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. I will give out

  divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried225, and

  every particle and utensil226 labelled to my will: as, item, two

  lips, indifferent227 red: item, two grey eyes, with lids to them:

  item, one neck, one chin and so forth. Were you sent hither

  to praise229 me?

  VIOLA I see you what you are, you are too proud.

  But if231 you were the devil, you are fair.

  My lord and master loves you. O, such love

  Could be but recompensed, though233 you were crowned

  The nonpareil234 of beauty!

  OLIVIA How does he love me?

  VIOLA With adorations, fertile236 tears,

  With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

  OLIVIA Your lord does know my mind: I cannot love him.

  Yet I suppose239 him virtuous, know him noble,

  Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;

  In voices well divulged, free241, learned and valiant,

  And in dimension and the shape of nature242

  A gracious243 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 flame245,

  With such a suff'ring, such a deadly246 life,

  In your denial I would find no sense,

  I would not understand it.

  OLIVIA Why, what would you?

  VIOLA Make me a willow cabin250 at your gate,

  And call upon my soul251 within the house,

  Write loyal cantons of contemned252 love

  And sing them loud even in the dead of night,

  Hallow your name to the reverberate254 hills

  And make the babbling gossip255 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 well260:

  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.

  Offers a purse

  VIOLA I am no fee'd post267, lady; keep your purse.

  My master, not myself, lacks recompense.

  Love make his heart of flint that you shall love269,

  And let your fervour, 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. Soft276, soft!

  Unless the master were the man.277 How now?

  Even so quickly may one catch the plague?278

  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!

  Enter Malvolio

  MALVOLIO Here, madam, at your service.

  OLIVIA Run after that same peevish284 messenger,

  The county's285 man. He left this ring behind him,

  Gives a ring

  Would I286 or not. Tell him I'll none of it.

  Desire him not to flatter with287 his lord,

  Nor hold him up with hopes.288 I am not for him.<
br />
  If that the youth will come this way tomorrow,

  I'll give him reasons for't. Hie290 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.293

  Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe.294

  What is decreed must be, and be this so.

  [Exit]

  Act 2 Scene 1

  running scene 6

  Enter Antonio and Sebastian

  ANTONIO Will you stay no longer? Nor will you not1 that I go

  with you?

  SEBASTIAN By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly3 over me;

  the malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper4 yours;

  therefore I shall crave of you your leave5 that I may bear my

  evils6 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 determinate9 voyage is mere

  extravagancy.10 But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of

  modesty that you will not extort from me what I am willing11

  to keep in. Therefore it charges me in manners12 the rather to

  express13 myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my

  name is Sebastian, which I called14 Roderigo. My father was

  that Sebastian of Messaline15 whom I know you have heard of.

  He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour.16

  If the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended. But

  you, sir, altered that, for some18 hour before you took me from

  the breach19 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 overfar23 believe that,

  yet thus far I will boldly publish24 her: she bore a mind that

  envy25 could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with

  salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again

  with more.27

  ANTONIO Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.28

  SEBASTIAN O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.29

  ANTONIO If you will not murder me for my love30, let me be your

  servant.

  SEBASTIAN If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill

  him whom you have recovered33, desire it not. Fare ye well at

  once. My bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet34 so near the

  manners of my mother35 that upon the least occasion more

  mine eyes will tell tales of me.36 I am bound to the Count

  Orsino's court. Farewell.

  Exit

  ANTONIO The gentleness38 of all the gods go with thee!

  I have many enemies in Orsino's court,

  Else40 would I very shortly see thee there.

  But come what may, I do adore thee so,

  That danger shall seem sport42, and I will go.

  Exit

  Act 2 Scene 2