FABIAN Now, as thou lov’st me, let me see his letter. |
|
FOOL Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. |
|
FABIAN Anything. |
|
FOOL Do not desire to see this letter. |
|
FABIAN This is to give a dog and in recompense desire |
|
my dog again. |
Enter <Orsino> Viola, Curio, and Lords.
ORSINO |
|
Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? |
|
FOOL Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings. |
|
ORSINO |
|
I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow? |
|
FOOL Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse |
|
for my friends. |
|
ORSINO |
|
Just the contrary: the better for thy friends. |
|
FOOL No, sir, the worse. |
|
ORSINO How can that be? |
|
FOOL 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 |
|
affirmatives, why then the worse for my friends and |
|
the better for my foes. |
|
ORSINO Why, this is excellent. |
|
FOOL By my troth, sir, no—though it please you to be |
|
one of my friends. |
|
ORSINO, <giving a coin> |
|
Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there’s gold. |
|
FOOL But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would |
|
you could make it another. |
|
ORSINO O, you give me ill counsel. |
|
FOOL Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, |
|
and let your flesh and blood obey it. |
|
ORSINO Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a |
|
double-dealer: there’s another. |
<He gives a coin.>
FOOL 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. |
|
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. |
|
FOOL 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. |
He exits.
Enter Antonio and Officers.
VIOLA |
|
Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. |
|
ORSINO |
|
That face of his I do remember well. |
|
Yet when I saw it last, it was besmeared |
|
As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war. |
|
A baubling vessel was he captain of, |
|
With which such scatheful grapple did he make |
|
With the most noble bottom of our fleet |
|
That very envy and the tongue of loss |
|
Cried fame and honor on him.—What’s the matter? |
|
FIRST OFFICER |
|
Orsino, this is that Antonio |
|
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. |
|
ORSINO |
|
Notable pirate, thou saltwater 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 wrack 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’ removèd 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? |
|
ORSINO, <to Antonio> When came he to this town? |
|
ANTONIO |
|
Today, my lord; and for three months before, |
|
No int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy, |
|
Both day and night did we keep company. |
Enter Olivia and Attendants.
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. <To an Officer.> 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? |
|
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. |
|
ORSINO |
|
Still so cruel? |
|
OLIVIA Still so constant, lord. |
|
ORSINO |
|
What, to perverseness? You, uncivil lady, |
|
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars |
|
My soul the faithful’st off’rings have breathed out |
|
That e’er devotion tendered—what shall I do? |
|
OLIVIA |
|
Even what it please my lord that shall become him. |
|
ORSINO |
|
Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, |
|
Like to th’ Egyptian thief at point of death, |
|
Kill what I love?—a savage jealousy |
|
That sometimes savors nobly. But hear me this: |
|
Since you to nonregardance cast my faith, |
|
And that I partly know the instrument |
|
That screws me from my true place in your favor, |
|
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 crownèd 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. |
<An Attendant exits.>
ORSINO, <to Viola> Come, away! |
|
OLIVIA |
|
Whither, my lord?—Cesario, husband, stay. |
|
ORSINO |
|
Husband? |
|
OLIVIA Ay, husband. Can he that deny? |
|
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 passed between this youth and me. |
|
PRIEST |
|
A contract of eternal bond of love, |
|
Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands, |
|
Attested by the holy close of lips, |
|
Strengthened by interchangement of your rings, |
|
And all the ceremony of this compact |
|
Sealed in my function, by my testimony; |
|
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my |
|
grave |
|
I have traveled but two hours. |
|
ORSINO <to Viola> |
|
O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be |
|
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.
ANDREW For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one |
|
presently to Sir Toby. |
|
OLIVIA What’s the matter? |
|
ANDREW 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? |
|
ANDREW The Count’s gentleman, one Cesario. We took |
|
him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardi- |
|
nate. |
|
ORSINO My gentleman Cesario? |
|
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 bespake you fair and hurt you not. |
|
ANDREW If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt |
|
me. I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. |
Enter Toby and <Feste, the Fool.>
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. |
|
ORSINO How now, gentleman? How is ’t with you? |
|
TOBY That’s all one. Has hurt me, and there’s th’ end |
|
on ’t. <To Fool.> Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot? |
|
FOOL O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes |
|
were set at eight i’ th’ morning. |
|
TOBY Then he’s a rogue and a passy-measures pavin. I |
|
hate a drunken rogue. |
|
OLIVIA Away with him! Who hath made this havoc |
|
with them? |
|
ANDREW I’ll help you, Sir Toby, because we’ll be |
|
dressed together. |
|
TOBY 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 looked to. |
<Toby, Andrew, Fool, and Fabian exit.>
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. |
|
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 racked 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, <looking at Viola> |
|
Do I stand there? I never had a brother, |
|
Of here and everywhere. I had a sister, |
|
Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured. |
|
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, |
|
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, |
|
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek |
|
And say “Thrice welcome, drownèd 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 numbered thirteen years. |
|
SEBASTIAN |
|
O, that record is lively in my soul! |
|
He finishèd indeed his mortal act |
|
That day that made my sister thirteen years. |
|
VIOLA |
|
If nothing lets to make us happy both |
|
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. |
|
You would have been contracted to a maid. |
|
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived: |
|
You are betrothed both to a maid and man. |
|
ORSINO, <to Olivia> |
|
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 wrack.— |
|
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 all those swearings keep as true in soul |
|
As doth that orbèd continent the fire |
|
That severs day from night. |
|
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 |
|
Enter <Feste, the Fool> with a letter, and Fabian.
Fetch Malvolio hither. |
|
And yet, alas, now I remember me, |
|
They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract. |
|
A most extracting frenzy of mine own |
|
From my remembrance clearly banished his. |
|
<To the Fool.> How does he, sirrah? |
|
FOOL Truly, madam, he holds Beelzebub at the stave’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 today |
|
morning. But as a madman’s epistles are no gos- |
|
pels, so it skills not much when they are delivered. |
|
OLIVIA Open ’t and read it. |
|
FOOL Look then to be well edified, when the Fool |
|
delivers the madman. <He reads.> By the Lord, |
|
madam— |
|
OLIVIA How now, art thou mad? |
|
FOOL No, madam, I do but read madness. An your |
|
Ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must |
|
OLIVIA Prithee, read i’ thy right wits. |
|
FOOL So I do, madonna. But to read his right wits is to |
|
give ear. |
|
OLIVIA, <giving letter to Fabian> Read it you, sirrah. |
|
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? |
|
FOOL Ay, madam. |
|
ORSINO |
|
This savors not much of distraction. |
|
OLIVIA |
|
See him delivered, Fabian. Bring him hither. |
<Fabian exits.>
<To Orsino.> My lord, so please you, these things |
|
One day shall crown th’ alliance on ’t, so please |
|
you, |
|
Here at my house, and at my proper cost. |
|
ORSINO |
|
Madam, I am most apt t’ 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 called me “master” for so long, |
|
Here is my hand. You shall from this time be |
|
Your master’s mistress. |
|
OLIVIA, <to Viola> A sister! You are she. |
Enter Malvolio <and Fabian.>
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, <handing her a paper> |
|
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, not your invention. |
|
You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, |
|
And tell me, in the modesty of honor, |
|
Why you have given me such clear lights of favor? |
|
Bade me come smiling and cross-gartered 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 suffered me to be imprisoned, |
|
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, |
|
And made the most notorious geek and gull |
|
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 cam’st in smiling, |
|
And in such forms which here were presupposed |
|
Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content. |
|
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 wondered at. In hope it shall not, |
|
Most freely I confess, myself and Toby |
|
Set this device against Malvolio here, |
|
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 followed |
|
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge, |
|
If that the injuries be justly weighed |
|
That have on both sides passed. |
|
OLIVIA, <to Malvolio> |
|
Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee! |
|
FOOL Why, “some are born great, some achieve great- |
|
ness, 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! |
<He exits.>
OLIVIA |
|
He hath been most notoriously abused. |
|
ORSINO |
|
Pursue him and entreat him to a peace. |
<Some exit.>
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, |
|
<All but the Fool> exit.
FOOL 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, the wind and the rain, |
|
’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, |
|
For the rain it raineth every day. |
|
But when I came, alas, to wive, |
|
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, |
|
By swaggering could I never thrive, |
|
For the rain it raineth every day. |
|
But when I came unto my beds, |
|
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, |
|
With tosspots still had drunken heads, |
|
For the rain it raineth every day. |
|
A great while ago the world begun, |
|
<With> hey, ho, the wind and the rain, |
|
But that’s all one, our play is done, |
|
And we’ll strive to please you every day. |
<He exits.>