Twelfth Night

Twelfth Night, or What You Will was first printed in 1623 as the thirteenth of the comedies in the First Folio. Probably written in 1601, it was acted in the hall of the Middle Temple on 2 February 1602, Candlemas Day, the end of the Christmas season of revels. A law student, John Manningham, noted approvingly in his diary that it was ‘much like the Comedy of Errors, or Menaechmi in Plautus, but most like and near to that in Italian called Inganni’. Gl’Ingannati (The Deceived Ones), an Italian comedy acted in Siena (1531) and printed in Venice (1537), provides the main lines of the love plot, whether directly or through sixteenth-century imitations and rewritings, one of which, the tale of Apolonius and Silla in Barnaby Rich’s Rich his Farewell to Military Profession (1581), Shakespeare knew. Manningham applauded the gulling of the steward Malvolio into believing his mistress, the countess Olivia, to be in love with him as ‘a good practice’. No source for this element in the plot has been identified, but its intrigue resembles the comic method of Ben Jonson. The play was revived at Court, under the title of ‘Malvolio’, on Candlemas Day 1623 and has that title substituted by hand in a copy of the Second Folio once in the library of Charles I.

Twelfth Night everywhere recalls Shakespeare’s own earlier comedies: if the twins recall The Comedy of Errors, then the plight of ‘Cesario’ (the only name by which Viola is known until the final scene) echoes the disguise of Julia as ‘Sebastian’, and her predicament as servant to the man she loves, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona. The love of Antonio for Sebastian parallels the equally self-sacrificing love of another Antonio for Bassanio in The Merchant of Venice. The gulling of Malvolio resembles that of Ajax in Troilus and Cressida, while Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek are models for the more lethal relationship between Iago and Roderigo in Othello. The clown, Feste, has a line in logic-chopping and verbal dexterity which links him with Touchstone in As You Like It as well as with the sourer clowning of Thersites in Troilus, of Lavatch in All’s Well That Ends Well and of Lear’s Fool, whose paradoxes about wisdom and folly he anticipates. It is often claimed that these roles were all written for Robert Armin, from 1599 the company’s leading comic actor.

Twelfth Night remains among Shakespeare’s best loved and most frequently revived plays. Its peculiar mood, poised between broad comedy and pathos, has led to a variety of emphasis in performance. The most praised modern productions have endeavoured to ‘sound all the notes that are there’ (to quote the director John Barton). The play pushes its multiple deceptions beyond safe laughter to an awareness of the real pain and damage to which the games could lead. Its ending epitomizes the precariousness of the action’s holiday licence: two couples of near strangers are married or betrothed, while Maria wins a marriage above her station, an aspiration thwarted in Malvolio. Malvolio departs with an impotent threat of future vengeance and he – like Sir Andrew, Antonio and Feste – stands apart from the final celebration, whose focus is on the mutual recognition of Viola and her brother rather than the resolution of tangled loves. Feste’s last song is an epilogue which serves the usual function of returning the audience from the holiday mood of drama to the workaday world – a return doubly unwelcome at the end of the Christmas festivities to which the title alludes.

In the eighteenth century Twelfth Night was enjoyed mainly for its comic scenes, especially those of Malvolio, but the nineteenth century saw the restoration to favour of the romantic side of the play. An influential production was Granville Barker’s at the Savoy Theatre in London in 1912, which simplified the setting in the interests of pace and clarity of performance of the full text and rejected the Victorian practice of scenic elaboration. Among many fine modern productions, John Barton’s for the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1969–71, with Judi Dench as Viola and Donald Sinden as Malvolio, was memorable for its strong cast and its sensitivity to the play’s shifting moods and opalescent tones.

The Arden text is based on the 1623 First Folio.

LIST OF ROLES

ORSINO	Duke of Illyria
	gentlemen attending on the Duke
	in the service of the Duke
VIOLA	later disguised as Cesario
SEBASTIAN	her twin brother
CAPTAIN	of the wrecked ship, befriending Viola
ANTONIO	another sea-captain, befriending Sebastian
OLIVIA	a countess
MARIA	Olivia’s waiting-gentlewoman
SIR TOBY Belch	Olivia’s kinsman
SIR ANDREW Aguecheek	Sir Toby’s companion
MALVOLIO	Olivia’s steward
FABIAN	a member of Olivia’s household
CLOWN (Feste)	jester to Olivia
SERVANT	to Olivia
PRIEST
Musicians, Lords, Sailors, Attendants

Twelfth Night

1.1 Music. Enter ORSINO, Duke of Illyria, CURIO and other lords.

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	5
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	10
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.	15
CURIO     Will you go hunt, my lord?
ORSINO     What, Curio?
CURIO     The hart.
ORSINO     Why so I do, the noblest that I have.
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purg’d the air of pestilence;	20
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:	25
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	30
A brother’s dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting, in her sad remembrance.
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	35
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!	40
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
Exeunt.

1.2 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?	5
CAPTAIN     It is perchance that you yourself were sav’d.
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 sav’d with you	10
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong mast that liv’d upon the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back,	15
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,	20
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.	25
VIOLA     What is his 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;	30
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?	35
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 abjur’d the company	40
And sight of men.
VIOLA     O that I serv’d that lady,
And might not be deliver’d 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,	45
No, not the Duke’s.
VIOLA     There is a fair behaviour 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	50
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;	55
Thou shalt 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;	60
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.

1.3 Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.

SIR TOBY     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	5
to your ill hours.
SIR TOBY     Why, let her except, before excepted.
MARIA     Ay, but you must confine yourself within the
modest limits of order.
SIR TOBY     Confine? I’ll confine myself no finer than I	10
am. These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so
be these boots too: and 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	15
knight that you brought in one night here to be her
wooer.
SIR TOBY     Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
MARIA     Ay, he.
SIR TOBY     He’s as tall a man as any’s in Illyria.	20
MARIA     What’s that to th’ purpose?
SIR TOBY     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     Fie, that you’ll say so! he plays o’th’ viol-de-	25
gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for
word without book, and hath all the good gifts of
nature.
MARIA     He hath indeed all, most natural: for besides that
he’s a fool, he’s a great quarreller; and but that he hath	30
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     By this hand, they are scoundrels and
substractors that say so of him. Who are they?	35
MARIA     They that add, moreover, he’s drunk nightly in
your company.
SIR TOBY     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 coistrel that will	40
not drink to my niece till his brains turn o’th’ toe, like
a parish top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo: for here
comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
SIR ANDREW     Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch?
SIR TOBY     Sweet Sir Andrew!	45
SIR ANDREW     Bless you, fair shrew.
MARIA     And you too, sir.
SIR TOBY     Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
SIR ANDREW     What’s that?
SIR TOBY     My niece’s chambermaid.	50
SIR ANDREW     Good Mistress Accost, I desire better
acquaintance.
MARIA     My name is Mary, sir.
SIR ANDREW     Good Mistress Mary Accost –
SIR TOBY     You mistake, knight. ‘Accost’ is front her,	55
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     And thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou	60
might’st never draw sword again!
SIR ANDREW     And 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 th’ hand.	65
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 th’ buttery bar and let it drink.
SIR ANDREW     Wherefore, sweetheart? What’s your	70
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.	75
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 Maria.
SIR TOBY     O knight, thou lack’st a cup of canary: when
did I see thee so put down?	80
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.	85
SIR TOBY     No question.
SIR ANDREW     And I thought that, I’d forswear it. I’ll ride
home to-morrow, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY     Pourquoi, my dear knight?
SIR ANDREW     What is pourquoi? Do, or not do? I would I	90
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     Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
SIR ANDREW     Why, would that have mended my hair?	95
SIR TOBY     Past question, for thou seest it will not curl by
nature.
SIR ANDREW
But it becomes me well enough, does’t not?
SIR TOBY     Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs,	100
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.	105
SIR TOBY     She’ll none o’th’ 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’th’
strangest mind i’th’ world: I delight in masques and	110
revels sometimes altogether.
SIR TOBY     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.	115
SIR TOBY     What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
SIR ANDREW     Faith, I can cut a caper.
SIR TOBY     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.	120
SIR TOBY     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	125
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	130
in a damned coloured stock. Shall we set about some
revels?
SIR TOBY     What shall we do else? were we not born
under Taurus?
SIR ANDREW     Taurus? That’s sides and heart.	135
SIR TOBY     No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee
caper. Ha, higher! Ha, ha, excellent!     Exeunt.

1.4 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,	5
that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is
he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
VALENTINE     No, believe me.
Enter DUKE, CURIO and attendants.
VIOLA     I thank you. Here comes the Count.
ORSINO     Who saw Cesario, ho?	10
VIOLA     On your attendance, my lord, here.
ORSINO     [to Curio and attendants]
Stand you awhile aloof. [to Viola] 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,	15
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.	20
ORSINO     Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.
VIOLA     Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
ORSINO     O then unfold the passion of my love,
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith;	25
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.
ORSINO     Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years,	30
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	35
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	40
To woo your lady: [aside] yet, a barful strife!
Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife. Exeunt.

1.5 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	5
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.’	10
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.	15
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.	20
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.	25
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.	30
Exit.
Enter Lady OLIVIA, with MALVOLIO and attendants.
CLOWN     Wit, and’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.’ God bless thee, lady!	35
OLIVIA     Take the fool away.
CLOWN     Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
OLIVIA     Go to, y’are a dry fool: I’ll no more of you.
Besides, you grow dishonest.
CLOWN     Two faults, madonna, that drink and good	40
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. Anything that’s mended is but
patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched with	45
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.	50
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.	55
OLIVIA     Can you do it?
CLOWN     Dexteriously, good madonna.
OLIVIA     Make your proof.
CLOWN     I must catechise you for it, madonna. Good my
mouse of virtue, answer me.	60
OLIVIA     Well sir, for want of other idleness, I’ll bide
your proof.
CLOWN     Good madonna, why mourn’st thou?
OLIVIA     Good fool, for my brother’s death.
CLOWN     I think his soul is in hell, madonna.	65
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	70
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	75
better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn
that I am no fox, but he will not pass 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	80
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	85
these set kind of fools, no better than the fools’ zanies.
OLIVIA     O, 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	90
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
speak’st well of fools!	95
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.	100
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	105
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	110
brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin has a most
weak pia mater.
Enter SIR TOBY.
OLIVIA     By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the
gate, cousin?
SIR TOBY     A gentleman.	115
OLIVIA     A gentleman? What gentleman?
SIR TOBY     ’Tis a gentleman here – [Belches.] A plague o’
these pickle-herring! How now, sot?
CLOWN     Good Sir Toby!
OLIVIA     Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by	120
this lethargy?
SIR TOBY     Lechery? I defy lechery. There’s one at the
gate.
OLIVIA     Ay, marry, what is he?
SIR TOBY     Let him be the devil and he will, I care not:	125
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 madman: one
draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads
him, and a third drowns him.	130
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.	135
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	140
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	145
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	150
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 codling when ’tis almost an apple. ’Tis with him	155
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.	160
Enter MARIA.
OLIVIA     Give me my veil: come, throw it o’er my face.
We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.
Enter VIOLA.
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	165
– 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	170
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	175
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?	180
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	185
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.	190
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 mad, be gone: if you have reason, be
brief: ’tis not that time of moon with me to make one	195
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.	200
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 full of peace, as matter.	205
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,	210
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 –	215
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	220
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	225
negotiate with my face? You are now out of your text:
but we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
[unveiling] Look you, sir, such a one I was this present.
Is’t not well done?
VIOLA     Excellently done, if God did all.	230
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	235
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	240
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.	245
My lord and master loves you: O, such love
Could be but recompens’d, though you were crown’d
The nonpareil of beauty!
OLIVIA     How does he love me?
VIOLA     a     With adorations, fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.	250
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 divulg’d, free, learn’d, and valiant,
And in dimension, and the shape of nature,	255
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 suff ’ring, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense,	260
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;	265
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.	270
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,	275
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,	280
And let your fervour like my master’s be,
Plac’d 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:	285
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	290
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 peevish messenger
The County’s man: he left this ring behind him,	295
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.	300
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.	305

2.1 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	5
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	10
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	15
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	20
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:	25
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.	30
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,	35
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:	40
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,	45
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.     Exit.

2.2 Enter VIOLA and MALVOLIO, at several doors.

MALVOLIO     Were not you ev’n 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	5
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	10
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	15
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 methought her eyes had lost her tongue,	20
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,	25
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!	30
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:	35
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,	40
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.     Exit.

2.3 Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW.

SIR TOBY     Approach, Sir Andrew; not to be abed after
midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere,
thou know’st –
SIR ANDREW     Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know,
to be up late, is to be up late.	5
SIR TOBY     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?	10
SIR ANDREW     Faith, so they say, but I think it rather
consists of eating and drinking.
SIR TOBY     Th’art 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.	15
CLOWN     How now, my hearts? Did you never see the
picture of ‘we three’?
SIR TOBY     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	20
leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In
sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night,
when thou spok’st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians
passing the equinoctial of Queubus: ’twas very good,
i’faith: I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: hadst it?	25
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!	30
SIR TOBY     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	35
life?
SIR TOBY     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,	40
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.	45
SIR TOBY     Good, good.
CLOWN
What is love? ’Tis not hereafter,
Present mirth hath present laughter: What’s to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,	50
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty:
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.
SIR ANDREW     A mellifluous voice, as I am a true knight.
SIR TOBY     A contagious breath.
SIR ANDREW     Very sweet and contagious, i’faith.	55
SIR TOBY     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     And you love me, let’s do’t: I am dog at a	60
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	65
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.	70
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     My lady’s a Cataian, we are politicians,	75
Malvolio’s a Peg-a-Ramsey, and [Sings.] ‘ Three merry
men be we.’ Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of
her blood? Tilly-vally! Lady! [Sings.] ‘ There dwelt a
man in Babylon, Lady, Lady’.
CLOWN     Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable fooling.	80
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.
TOBYSIR     [Sings.] ‘O’the twelfth day of December –’
MARIA     For the love o’ God, peace!	85
Enter MALVOLIO.
MALVOLIO     My masters, are you mad? Or what are you?
Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an ale-house of
my lady’s house, that ye squeak out your coziers’ catches
without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no	90
respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
SIR TOBY     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	95
can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you
are welcome to the house: if not, and it would please
you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you
farewell.
SIR TOBY     [Sings.] Farewell, dear heart, since I must	100
needs be gone.
MARIA     Nay, good Sir Toby.
CLOWN     [Sings.] His eyes do show his days are almost done.
MALVOLIO     Is’t even so?
SIR TOBY     [Sings.] But I will never die.	105
CLOWN     [Sings.] Sir Toby, there you lie.
MALVOLIO     This is much credit to you.
SIR TOBY     [Sings.] Shall I bid him go?
CLOWN     [Sings.] What and if you do?
SIR     TOBY [Sings.] Shall I bid him go, and spare not?	110
CLOWN     [Sings.] O no, no, no, no, you dare not.
SIR TOBY     Out o’ time, 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’th’	115
mouth too.     Exit.
SIR TOBY     Th’art i’th’ right. Go sir, rub your chain with
crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!
MALVOLIO     Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s
favour at anything more than contempt, you would	120
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	125
break promise with him and make a fool of him.
SIR TOBY     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 to-night. Since
the youth of the Count’s was today with my lady, she	130
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.	135
SIR TOBY     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’d beat him like a dog.
SIR TOBY     What, for being a Puritan? Thy exquisite	140
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 anything
constantly, but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass, that	145
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.	150
SIR TOBY     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	155
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     Excellent, I smell a device.
SIR ANDREW     I have’t in my nose too.	160
SIR TOBY     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	165
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	170
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     Good night, Penthesilea.
SIR ANDREW     Before me, she’s a good wench.	175
SIR TOBY     She’s a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores
me: what o’ that?
SIR ANDREW     I was adored once too.
SIR TOBY     Let’s to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send
for more money.	180
SIR ANDREW     If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul
way out.
SIR TOBY     Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not
i’th’ end, call me cut.
SIR ANDREW     If I do not, never trust me, take it how you	185
will.
SIR TOBY     Come, come, I’ll go burn some sack, ’tis too
late to go to bed now. Come, knight, come, knight.
Exeunt.

2.4 Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO and others.

ORSINO
Give me some music. Now good morrow, friends.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antic song we heard last night;
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms	5
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.
ORSINO     Who was it?	10
CURIO     Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the Lady
OLIVIA’s father took much delight in. He is about the
house.
ORSINO     Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
Exit Curio. Music plays.
Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,	15
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 belov’d. How dost thou like this tune?	20
VIOLA     It gives a very echo to the seat
Where love is thron’d.
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.	25
ORSINO     What kind of woman is’t?
VIOLA     Of your complexion.
ORSINO     She is not worth thee then. What years, i’faith?
VIOLA     About your years, my lord.
ORSINO     Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,	30
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.	35
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:	40
To die, even when they to perfection grow!
Enter CURIO and Clown.
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	45
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?
ORSINO     Ay, prithee sing.     [Music.]	50
The Clown’s Song
CLOWN
Come away, come away death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fie away, fie away breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid:
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,	55
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 strewn:	60
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,	65
To weep there.
ORSINO     There’s for thy pains. [giving him money]
CLOWN     No pains, sir, I take pleasure in singing, sir.
ORSINO     I’ll pay thy pleasure then.
CLOWN     Truly sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or	70
another.
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	75
constancy put to sea, that their business might be
everything, and their intent everywhere, for that’s it
that always makes a good voyage of nothing.
Farewell.     Exit.
ORSINO
Let all the rest give place.     Exeunt Curio and others.
Once more, Cesario,	80
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:	85
But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.
VIOLA     But if she cannot love you, sir?
ORSINO     I cannot be so answer’d.
VIOLA     Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,	90
Hath for your love as 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?
ORSINO     There is no woman’s sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion	95
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 suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;	100
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 –
ORSINO     What dost thou know?	105
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 lov’d a man,
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
ORSINO     And what’s her history?	110
VIOLA     A blank, my lord: she never told her love,
But let concealment like a worm i’th’ bud
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin’d in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like Patience on a monument,	115
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.
ORSINO     But died thy sister of her love, my boy?	120
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?
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.	125

2.5 Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW and FABIAN.

SIR TOBY     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     Would’st thou not be glad to have the
niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable	5
shame?
FABIAN     I would exult, man: you know he brought me
out o’ favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here.
SIR TOBY     To anger him we’ll have the bear again, and
we will fool him black and blue – shall we not, Sir	10
Andrew?
SIR ANDREW     And we do not, it is pity of our lives.
Enter MARIA.
SIR TOBY     Here comes the little villain. How now, my
metal of India?
MARIA     Get ye all three into the box-tree. Malvolio’s	15
coming down this walk; he has been yonder i’the sun
practising behaviour 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! [As the men hide, she drops a letter.]	20
Lie thou there: 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	25
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     Here’s an overweening rogue!
FABIAN     O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-	30
cock of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
SIR ANDREW     ’Slight, I could so beat the rogue!
SIR TOBY     Peace, I say!
MALVOLIO     To be Count Malvolio!
SIR TOBY     Ah, rogue!	35
SIR ANDREW     Pistol him, pistol him!
SIR TOBY     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!	40
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     O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye!	45
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     Fire and brimstone!
FABIAN     O peace, peace!	50
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 ask for
my kinsman Toby.
SIR TOBY     Bolts and shackles!	55
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 my watch, or play with my [touching his chain] – some
rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to me –	60
SIR TOBY     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 a austere regard of control –	65
SIR TOBY     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’ –	70
SIR TOBY     What, what?
MALVOLIO     ‘You must amend your drunkenness.’
SIR TOBY     Out, scab!
FABIAN     Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
MALVOLIO     ‘Besides, you waste the treasure of your time	75
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     [seeing the letter] What employment have we	80
here?
FABIAN     Now is the woodcock near the gin.
SIR TOBY     O peace! and the spirit of humours intimate
reading aloud to him!
MALVOLIO     [taking up the letter] By my life, this is my	85
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	90
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?
[He opens the letter.]
FABIAN     This wins him, liver and all.	95
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,	100
Malvolio!
SIR TOBY     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;	105
M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.
FABIAN     A fustian riddle!
SIR TOBY     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.	110
FABIAN     What dish o’ poison has she dressed him!
SIR TOBY     And with what wing the staniel checks at it!
MALVOLIO     ‘I may command where I adore.’ Why, she
may command me: I serve her, she is my lady. Why,
this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no	115
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     O ay, make up that! He is now at a cold scent.
FABIAN     Sowter will cry upon’t for all this, though it be	120
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.	125
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     Ay, or I’ll cudgel him, and make him cry ‘O’!	130
MALVOLIO     And then ‘I’ comes behind.
FABIAN     Ay, and 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	135
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	140
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	145
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 desir’st to be so. If not, let me see thee a	150
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!	155
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-device 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	160
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	165
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 entertain’st
my love, let it appear in thy smiling, thy smiles become	170
thee well. Therefore in my presence still smile, dear my
sweet, I prithee. Jove, I thank thee, I will smile, I will
do every thing 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.	175
SIR TOBY     I could marry this wench for this device.
SIR ANDREW     So could I too.
SIR TOBY     And ask no other dowry with her but such
another jest.
Enter MARIA.
SIR ANDREW     Nor I neither.	180
FABIAN     Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
SIR TOBY     Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck?
SIR ANDREW     Or o’ mine either?
SIR TOBY     Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and
become thy bond-slave?	185
SIR ANDREW     I’faith, or I either?
SIR TOBY     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     Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.	190
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	195
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     To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent
devil of wit!	200
SIR ANDREW     I’ll make one too.     Exeunt.

3.1 Enter VIOLA, and Clown playing on pipe and tabor.

VIOLA     Save thee, friend, and thy music! Dost thou live
by thy tabor?
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	5
I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the
church.
VIOLA     So thou may’st say the king lies by a beggar, if a
beggar dwell near him; or the church stands by thy
tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.	10
CLOWN     You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is
but a chev’ril 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.	15
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,	20
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.	25
VIOLA     I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car’st 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	30
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	35
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 everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the	40
fool should be as oft with your master as with my
mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.
VIOLA     Nay, and thou pass upon me, I’ll no more with
thee. Hold, there’s expenses for thee. [giving a coin]
CLOWN     Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send	45
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?	50
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.
[giving another coin]
CLOWN     The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but	55
a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir.
I will conster to them whence you come; who you are
and what you would are out of my welkin. I might say
‘element’, but the word is overworn.     Exit.
VIOLA     This fellow is wise enough to play the fool,	60
And to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time,
And like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice	65
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 and SIR ANDREW.
SIR TOBY     Save you, gentleman.
VIOLA     And you, sir.	70
SIR ANDREW     Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
VIOLA     Et vous aussi: votre serviteur.
SIR ANDREW     I hope, sir, you are, and I am yours.
SIR TOBY     Will you encounter the house? My niece is
desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.	75
VIOLA     I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
list of my voyage.
SIR TOBY     Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.
VIOLA     My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
understand what you mean by bidding me taste my	80
legs.
SIR TOBY     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	85
odours on you!
SIR ANDREW     That youth’s a rare courtier: ‘rain odours’
– well.
VIOLA     My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own
most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.	90
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, Sir Andrew and Maria.
Give me your hand, sir.	95
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:	100
Y’are servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
VIOLA     And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.
OLIVIA     For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks, rather than fill’d with me.	105
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,	110
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.	115
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you in a shameful cunning
Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all th’unmuzzled thoughts	120
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your
receiving
Enough is shown; a cypress, not a bosom,
Hides my heart: so, let me hear you speak.
VIOLA     I pity you.
OLIVIA     That’s a degree to love.
VIOLA     No, not a grize: for ’tis a vulgar proof	125
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.]	130
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you,
And yet when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man.
There lies your way, due west.
VIOLA     Then westward ho!	135
Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship!
You’ll nothing, madam, to my lord, by me?
OLIVIA     Stay:
I prithee tell me what thou think’st of me.
VIOLA     That you do think you are not what you are.	140
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.	145
OLIVIA     [aside] O what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murd’rous guilt shows not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid. Love’s night is noon. –
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,	150
By maidhood, honour, truth, and everything,
I love thee so, that maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;	155
But rather reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
VIOLA     By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none	160
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.	165