3885 lines
114 KiB
Plaintext
3885 lines
114 KiB
Plaintext
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TWELFTH NIGHT
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DRAMATIS PERSONAE
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ORSINO Duke of Illyria. (DUKE ORSINO:)
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SEBASTIAN brother to Viola.
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ANTONIO a sea captain, friend to Sebastian.
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A Sea Captain, friend to Viola. (Captain:)
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VALENTINE |
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| gentlemen attending on the Duke.
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CURIO |
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SIR TOBY BELCH uncle to Olivia.
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SIR ANDREW
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AGUECHEEK (SIR ANDREW:)
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MALVOLIO steward to Olivia.
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FABIAN |
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| servants to Olivia.
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FESTE a Clown (Clown:) |
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OLIVIA:
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VIOLA:
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MARIA Olivia's woman.
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Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians,
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and other Attendants.
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(Priest:)
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(First Officer:)
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(Second Officer:)
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(Servant:)
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SCENE A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it.
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TWELFTH NIGHT
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ACT I
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SCENE I DUKE ORSINO's palace.
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[Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords;
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Musicians attending]
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DUKE ORSINO If music be the food of love, play on;
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Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
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The appetite may sicken, and so die.
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That strain again! it had a dying fall:
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O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
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That breathes upon a bank of violets,
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Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
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'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
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O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
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That, notwithstanding thy capacity
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Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
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Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
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But falls into abatement and low price,
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Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
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That it alone is high fantastical.
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CURIO Will you go hunt, my lord?
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DUKE ORSINO What, Curio?
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CURIO The hart.
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DUKE ORSINO Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
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O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
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Methought she purged the air of pestilence!
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That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
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And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
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E'er since pursue me.
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[Enter VALENTINE]
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How now! what news from her?
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VALENTINE So please my lord, I might not be admitted;
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But from her handmaid do return this answer:
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The element itself, till seven years' heat,
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Shall not behold her face at ample view;
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But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
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And water once a day her chamber round
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With eye-offending brine: all this to season
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A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
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And lasting in her sad remembrance.
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DUKE ORSINO O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
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To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
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How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
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Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
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That live in her; when liver, brain and heart,
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These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
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Her sweet perfections with one self king!
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Away before me to sweet beds of flowers:
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Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
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[Exeunt]
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TWELFTH NIGHT
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ACT I
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SCENE II The sea-coast.
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[Enter VIOLA, a Captain, and Sailors]
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VIOLA What country, friends, is this?
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Captain This is Illyria, lady.
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VIOLA And what should I do in Illyria?
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My brother he is in Elysium.
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Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?
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Captain It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
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VIOLA O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.
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Captain True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
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Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
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When you and those poor number saved with you
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Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
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Most provident in peril, bind himself,
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Courage and hope both teaching him the practise,
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To a strong mast that lived upon the sea;
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Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
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I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
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So long as I could see.
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VIOLA For saying so, there's gold:
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Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
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Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
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The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
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Captain Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
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Not three hours' travel from this very place.
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VIOLA Who governs here?
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Captain A noble duke, in nature as in name.
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VIOLA What is the name?
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Captain Orsino.
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VIOLA Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
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He was a bachelor then.
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Captain And so is now, or was so very late;
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For but a month ago I went from hence,
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And then 'twas fresh in murmur,--as, you know,
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What great ones do the less will prattle of,--
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That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
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VIOLA What's she?
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Captain A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
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That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
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In the protection of his son, her brother,
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Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
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They say, she hath abjured the company
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And sight of men.
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VIOLA O that I served that lady
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And might not be delivered to the world,
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Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
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What my estate is!
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Captain That were hard to compass;
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Because she will admit no kind of suit,
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No, not the duke's.
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VIOLA There is a fair behavior in thee, captain;
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And though that nature with a beauteous wall
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Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
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I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
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With this thy fair and outward character.
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I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
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Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
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For such disguise as haply shall become
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The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
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Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him:
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It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing
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And speak to him in many sorts of music
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That will allow me very worth his service.
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What else may hap to time I will commit;
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Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
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Captain Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
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When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
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VIOLA I thank thee: lead me on.
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[Exeunt]
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TWELFTH NIGHT
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ACT I
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SCENE III OLIVIA'S house.
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[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]
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SIR TOBY BELCH What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
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her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
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MARIA By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'
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nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great
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exceptions to your ill hours.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Why, let her except, before excepted.
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MARIA Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
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limits of order.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:
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these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be
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these boots too: an they be not, let them hang
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themselves in their own straps.
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MARIA That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard
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my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish
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knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
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MARIA Ay, he.
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SIR TOBY BELCH He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
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MARIA What's that to the purpose?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
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MARIA Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
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he's a very fool and a prodigal.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
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viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
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word for word without book, and hath all the good
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gifts of nature.
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MARIA He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that
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he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that
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he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he
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hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent
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he would quickly have the gift of a grave.
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SIR TOBY BELCH By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
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that say so of him. Who are they?
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MARIA They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.
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SIR TOBY BELCH With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to
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her as long as there is a passage in my throat and
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drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill
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that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn
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o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
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Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
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[Enter SIR ANDREW]
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SIR ANDREW Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!
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SIR TOBY BELCH Sweet Sir Andrew!
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SIR ANDREW Bless you, fair shrew.
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MARIA And you too, sir.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
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SIR ANDREW What's that?
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SIR TOBY BELCH My niece's chambermaid.
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SIR ANDREW Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
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MARIA My name is Mary, sir.
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SIR ANDREW Good Mistress Mary Accost,--
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SIR TOBY BELCH You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
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her, woo her, assail her.
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SIR ANDREW By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
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company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'?
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MARIA Fare you well, gentlemen.
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SIR TOBY BELCH An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
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never draw sword again.
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SIR ANDREW An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
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draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have
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fools in hand?
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MARIA Sir, I have not you by the hand.
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SIR ANDREW Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
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MARIA Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
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your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.
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SIR ANDREW Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?
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MARIA It's dry, sir.
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SIR ANDREW Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
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keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?
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MARIA A dry jest, sir.
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SIR ANDREW Are you full of them?
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MARIA Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
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now I let go your hand, I am barren.
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[Exit]
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SIR TOBY BELCH O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I
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see thee so put down?
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SIR ANDREW Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary
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put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit
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than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a
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great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.
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SIR TOBY BELCH No question.
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SIR ANDREW An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
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to-morrow, Sir Toby.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Pourquoi, my dear knight?
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SIR ANDREW What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had
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bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in
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fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but
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followed the arts!
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SIR TOBY BELCH Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
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SIR ANDREW Why, would that have mended my hair?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
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SIR ANDREW But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
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hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
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and spin it off.
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SIR ANDREW Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece
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will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one
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she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her.
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SIR TOBY BELCH She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
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her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I
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have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,
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man.
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SIR ANDREW I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the
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strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques
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and revels sometimes altogether.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
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SIR ANDREW As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
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degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
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with an old man.
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SIR TOBY BELCH What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
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SIR ANDREW Faith, I can cut a caper.
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SIR TOBY BELCH And I can cut the mutton to't.
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SIR ANDREW And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
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as any man in Illyria.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have
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these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to
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take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost
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thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in
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a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
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so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
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dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?
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I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
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leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.
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SIR ANDREW Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
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flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?
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SIR TOBY BELCH What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?
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SIR ANDREW Taurus! That's sides and heart.
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SIR TOBY BELCH No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
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caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!
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[Exeunt]
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TWELFTH NIGHT
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ACT I
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SCENE IV DUKE ORSINO's palace.
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[Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire]
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VALENTINE If the duke continue these favours towards you,
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Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath
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known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
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VIOLA You either fear his humour or my negligence, that
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you call in question the continuance of his love:
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is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
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VALENTINE No, believe me.
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VIOLA I thank you. Here comes the count.
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[Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and Attendants]
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DUKE ORSINO Who saw Cesario, ho?
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VIOLA On your attendance, my lord; here.
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DUKE ORSINO Stand you a while aloof, Cesario,
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Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
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To thee the book even of my secret soul:
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Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
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Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
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And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
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Till thou have audience.
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VIOLA Sure, my noble lord,
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If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
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As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
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DUKE ORSINO Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds
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Rather than make unprofited return.
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VIOLA Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
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DUKE ORSINO O, then unfold the passion of my love,
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Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
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It shall become thee well to act my woes;
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She will attend it better in thy youth
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Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.
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VIOLA I think not so, my lord.
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DUKE ORSINO Dear lad, believe it;
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For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
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That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
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Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
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Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
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And all is semblative a woman's part.
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I know thy constellation is right apt
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For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
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All, if you will; for I myself am best
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When least in company. Prosper well in this,
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And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
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To call his fortunes thine.
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VIOLA I'll do my best
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To woo your lady:
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[Aside]
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yet, a barful strife!
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Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
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[Exeunt]
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TWELFTH NIGHT
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ACT I
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SCENE V OLIVIA'S house.
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[Enter MARIA and Clown]
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MARIA Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will
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not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in
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way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.
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Clown Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
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world needs to fear no colours.
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MARIA Make that good.
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Clown He shall see none to fear.
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MARIA A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that
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saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.'
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Clown Where, good Mistress Mary?
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MARIA In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
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Clown Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those
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that are fools, let them use their talents.
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MARIA Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or,
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to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?
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Clown Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and,
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for turning away, let summer bear it out.
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MARIA You are resolute, then?
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Clown Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.
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MARIA That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both
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break, your gaskins fall.
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Clown Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if
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Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
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piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.
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MARIA Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my
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lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
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[Exit]
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Clown Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!
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Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft
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prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may
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pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus?
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'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'
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[Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO]
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God bless thee, lady!
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OLIVIA Take the fool away.
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Clown Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
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OLIVIA Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
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besides, you grow dishonest.
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Clown Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
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|
will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
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|
the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend
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|
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
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|
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
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|
that's mended is but patched: virtue that
|
|
transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
|
|
amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
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|
simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
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|
what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
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|
calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
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away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.
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OLIVIA Sir, I bade them take away you.
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Clown Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non
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facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not
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motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to
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prove you a fool.
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OLIVIA Can you do it?
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Clown Dexterously, good madonna.
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OLIVIA Make your proof.
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Clown I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse
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of virtue, answer me.
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OLIVIA Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.
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Clown Good madonna, why mournest thou?
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OLIVIA Good fool, for my brother's death.
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Clown I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
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OLIVIA I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
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Clown The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's
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soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
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OLIVIA What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?
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MALVOLIO Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him:
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infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the
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better fool.
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Clown God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the
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better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be
|
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sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his
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word for two pence that you are no fool.
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OLIVIA How say you to that, Malvolio?
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MALVOLIO I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
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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
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him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men,
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that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better
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than the fools' zanies.
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OLIVIA Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
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with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
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guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those
|
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things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets:
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there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do
|
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nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
|
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man, though he do nothing but reprove.
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Clown Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou
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speakest well of fools!
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[Re-enter MARIA]
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MARIA Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much
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desires to speak with you.
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OLIVIA From the Count Orsino, is it?
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MARIA I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.
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OLIVIA Who of my people hold him in delay?
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MARIA Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
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OLIVIA Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but
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madman: fie on him!
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[Exit MARIA]
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Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I
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am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.
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[Exit MALVOLIO]
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Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and
|
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people dislike it.
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Clown Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest
|
|
son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with
|
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brains! for,--here he comes,--one of thy kin has a
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most weak pia mater.
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[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH]
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OLIVIA By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
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SIR TOBY BELCH A gentleman.
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OLIVIA A gentleman! what gentleman?
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SIR TOBY BELCH 'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these
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pickle-herring! How now, sot!
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Clown Good Sir Toby!
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OLIVIA Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.
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OLIVIA Ay, marry, what is he?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
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|
me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.
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[Exit]
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OLIVIA What's a drunken man like, fool?
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Clown Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one
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draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads
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him; and a third drowns him.
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OLIVIA Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my
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|
coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's
|
|
drowned: go, look after him.
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Clown He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look
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|
to the madman.
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[Exit]
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[Re-enter MALVOLIO]
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MALVOLIO Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
|
|
you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to
|
|
understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
|
|
with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to
|
|
have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
|
|
comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him,
|
|
lady? he's fortified against any denial.
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OLIVIA Tell him he shall not speak with me.
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MALVOLIO Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your
|
|
door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to
|
|
a bench, but he'll speak with you.
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OLIVIA What kind o' man is he?
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MALVOLIO Why, of mankind.
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OLIVIA What manner of man?
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MALVOLIO Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no.
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OLIVIA Of what personage and years is he?
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MALVOLIO Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for
|
|
a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
|
|
cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him
|
|
in standing water, between boy and man. He is very
|
|
well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one
|
|
would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
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OLIVIA Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
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MALVOLIO Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
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[Exit]
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[Re-enter MARIA]
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OLIVIA Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
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|
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
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|
|
[Enter VIOLA, and Attendants]
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VIOLA The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
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OLIVIA Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
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|
Your will?
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VIOLA Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,--I
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|
pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house,
|
|
for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away
|
|
my speech, for besides that it is excellently well
|
|
penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
|
|
beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very
|
|
comptible, even to the least sinister usage.
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OLIVIA Whence came you, sir?
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VIOLA I can say little more than I have studied, and that
|
|
question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me
|
|
modest assurance if you be the lady of the house,
|
|
that I may proceed in my speech.
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OLIVIA Are you a comedian?
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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?
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OLIVIA If I do not usurp myself, I am.
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VIOLA Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
|
|
yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
|
|
to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
|
|
on with my speech in your praise, and then show you
|
|
the heart of my message.
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OLIVIA Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.
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VIOLA Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
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OLIVIA It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you,
|
|
keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates,
|
|
and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you
|
|
than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if
|
|
you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of
|
|
moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
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MARIA Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.
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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.
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OLIVIA Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when
|
|
the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
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VIOLA It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
|
|
war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
|
|
hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.
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OLIVIA Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?
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VIOLA The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
|
|
learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
|
|
would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears,
|
|
divinity, to any other's, profanation.
|
|
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OLIVIA Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
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|
|
[Exeunt MARIA and Attendants]
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|
|
|
Now, sir, what is your text?
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|
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VIOLA Most sweet lady,--
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|
OLIVIA A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.
|
|
Where lies your text?
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|
|
VIOLA In Orsino's bosom.
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|
|
OLIVIA In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?
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VIOLA To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
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|
OLIVIA O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
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VIOLA Good madam, let me see your face.
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|
OLIVIA Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate
|
|
with my face? You are now out of your text: but
|
|
we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
|
|
Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't
|
|
not well done?
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|
|
[Unveiling]
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VIOLA Excellently done, if God did all.
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|
OLIVIA 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
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|
VIOLA 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
|
|
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
|
|
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
|
|
If you will lead these graces to the grave
|
|
And leave the world no copy.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give
|
|
out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
|
|
inventoried, and every particle and utensil
|
|
labelled to my will: as, item, two lips,
|
|
indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to
|
|
them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were
|
|
you sent hither to praise me?
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|
|
|
VIOLA I see you what you are, you are too proud;
|
|
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
|
|
My lord and master loves you: O, such love
|
|
Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
|
|
The nonpareil of beauty!
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA How does he love me?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA With adorations, fertile tears,
|
|
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him:
|
|
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
|
|
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
|
|
In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant;
|
|
And in dimension and the shape of nature
|
|
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
|
|
He might have took his answer long ago.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA If I did love you in my master's flame,
|
|
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
|
|
In your denial I would find no sense;
|
|
I would not understand it.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Why, what would you?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
|
|
And call upon my soul within the house;
|
|
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
|
|
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
|
|
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
|
|
And make the babbling gossip of the air
|
|
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
|
|
Between the elements of air and earth,
|
|
But you should pity me!
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA You might do much.
|
|
What is your parentage?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
|
|
I am a gentleman.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Get you to your lord;
|
|
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
|
|
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
|
|
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
|
|
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
|
|
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
|
|
Love make his heart of flint that you shall love;
|
|
And let your fervor, like my master's, be
|
|
Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA 'What is your parentage?'
|
|
'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
|
|
I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
|
|
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
|
|
Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast:
|
|
soft, soft!
|
|
Unless the master were the man. How now!
|
|
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
|
|
Methinks I feel this youth's perfections
|
|
With an invisible and subtle stealth
|
|
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
|
|
What ho, Malvolio!
|
|
|
|
[Re-enter MALVOLIO]
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Here, madam, at your service.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Run after that same peevish messenger,
|
|
The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
|
|
Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it.
|
|
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
|
|
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
|
|
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
|
|
I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Madam, I will.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA I do I know not what, and fear to find
|
|
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
|
|
Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe;
|
|
What is decreed must be, and be this so.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT II
|
|
|
|
SCENE I The sea-coast.
|
|
|
|
[Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN]
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you?
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over
|
|
me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps
|
|
distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your
|
|
leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad
|
|
recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO: Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere
|
|
extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a
|
|
touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me
|
|
what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges
|
|
me in manners the rather to express myself. You
|
|
must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian,
|
|
which I called Roderigo. My father was that
|
|
Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard
|
|
of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both
|
|
born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased,
|
|
would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that;
|
|
for some hour before you took me from the breach of
|
|
the sea was my sister drowned.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Alas the day!
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled
|
|
me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but,
|
|
though I could not with such estimable wonder
|
|
overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly
|
|
publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but
|
|
call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt
|
|
water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO If you will not murder me for my love, let me be
|
|
your servant.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN If you will not undo what you have done, that is,
|
|
kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not.
|
|
Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness,
|
|
and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that
|
|
upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell
|
|
tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
|
|
I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
|
|
Else would I very shortly see thee there.
|
|
But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
|
|
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT II
|
|
|
|
SCENE II A street.
|
|
|
|
[Enter VIOLA, MALVOLIO following]
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since
|
|
arrived but hither.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have
|
|
saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself.
|
|
She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord
|
|
into a desperate assurance she will none of him:
|
|
and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to
|
|
come again in his affairs, unless it be to report
|
|
your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her
|
|
will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth
|
|
stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be
|
|
it his that finds it.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
|
|
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!
|
|
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
|
|
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
|
|
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
|
|
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion
|
|
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
|
|
None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
|
|
I am the man: if it be so, as 'tis,
|
|
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
|
|
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
|
|
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
|
|
How easy is it for the proper-false
|
|
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
|
|
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we!
|
|
For such as we are made of, such we be.
|
|
How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly;
|
|
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
|
|
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
|
|
What will become of this? As I am man,
|
|
My state is desperate for my master's love;
|
|
As I am woman,--now alas the day!--
|
|
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
|
|
O time! thou must untangle this, not I;
|
|
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT II
|
|
|
|
SCENE III OLIVIA's house.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
|
|
midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
|
|
surgere,' thou know'st,--
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
|
|
late is to be up late.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.
|
|
To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is
|
|
early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go
|
|
to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the
|
|
four elements?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists
|
|
of eating and drinking.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
|
|
Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!
|
|
|
|
[Enter Clown]
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Here comes the fool, i' faith.
|
|
|
|
Clown How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
|
|
of 'we three'?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I
|
|
had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg,
|
|
and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In
|
|
sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last
|
|
night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the
|
|
Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas
|
|
very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy
|
|
leman: hadst it?
|
|
|
|
Clown I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose
|
|
is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the
|
|
Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all
|
|
is done. Now, a song.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a--
|
|
|
|
Clown Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH A love-song, a love-song.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Ay, ay: I care not for good life.
|
|
|
|
Clown [Sings]
|
|
|
|
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
|
|
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,
|
|
That can sing both high and low:
|
|
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
|
|
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
|
|
Every wise man's son doth know.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Excellent good, i' faith.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Good, good.
|
|
|
|
Clown [Sings]
|
|
|
|
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
|
|
Present mirth hath present laughter;
|
|
What's to come is still unsure:
|
|
In delay there lies no plenty;
|
|
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
|
|
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH A contagious breath.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
|
|
But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we
|
|
rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three
|
|
souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.
|
|
|
|
Clown By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'
|
|
|
|
Clown 'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be
|
|
constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to
|
|
call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.'
|
|
|
|
Clown I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Good, i' faith. Come, begin.
|
|
|
|
[Catch sung]
|
|
|
|
[Enter MARIA]
|
|
|
|
MARIA What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady
|
|
have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him
|
|
turn you out of doors, never trust me.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
|
|
a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not
|
|
I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
|
|
Tillyvally. Lady!
|
|
|
|
[Sings]
|
|
|
|
'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'
|
|
|
|
Clown Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do
|
|
I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it
|
|
more natural.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH [Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'--
|
|
|
|
MARIA For the love o' God, peace!
|
|
|
|
[Enter MALVOLIO]
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
|
|
no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
|
|
tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an
|
|
alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your
|
|
coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
|
|
of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor
|
|
time in you?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me
|
|
tell you, that, though she harbours you as her
|
|
kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If
|
|
you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you
|
|
are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please
|
|
you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid
|
|
you farewell.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH 'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'
|
|
|
|
MARIA Nay, good Sir Toby.
|
|
|
|
Clown 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.'
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Is't even so?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH 'But I will never die.'
|
|
|
|
Clown Sir Toby, there you lie.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO This is much credit to you.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH 'Shall I bid him go?'
|
|
|
|
Clown 'What an if you do?'
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'
|
|
|
|
Clown 'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a
|
|
steward? Dost thou think, because thou art
|
|
virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
|
|
|
|
Clown Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the
|
|
mouth too.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
|
|
crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any
|
|
thing more than contempt, you would not give means
|
|
for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
MARIA Go shake your ears.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's
|
|
a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to
|
|
break promise with him and make a fool of him.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll
|
|
deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
|
|
|
|
MARIA Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the
|
|
youth of the count's was today with thy lady, she is
|
|
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me
|
|
alone with him: if I do not gull him into a
|
|
nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not
|
|
think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:
|
|
I know I can do it.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.
|
|
|
|
MARIA Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
|
|
dear knight?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason
|
|
good enough.
|
|
|
|
MARIA The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
|
|
constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass,
|
|
that cons state without book and utters it by great
|
|
swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so
|
|
crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is
|
|
his grounds of faith that all that look on him love
|
|
him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find
|
|
notable cause to work.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH What wilt thou do?
|
|
|
|
MARIA I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
|
|
love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
|
|
of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure
|
|
of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find
|
|
himself most feelingly personated. I can write very
|
|
like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we
|
|
can hardly make distinction of our hands.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent! I smell a device.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW I have't in my nose too.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
|
|
that they come from my niece, and that she's in
|
|
love with him.
|
|
|
|
MARIA My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW And your horse now would make him an ass.
|
|
|
|
MARIA Ass, I doubt not.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW O, 'twill be admirable!
|
|
|
|
MARIA Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will
|
|
work with him. I will plant you two, and let the
|
|
fool make a third, where he shall find the letter:
|
|
observe his construction of it. For this night, to
|
|
bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Good night, Penthesilea.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Before me, she's a good wench.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me:
|
|
what o' that?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW I was adored once too.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for
|
|
more money.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
|
|
the end, call me cut.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late
|
|
to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT II
|
|
|
|
SCENE IV DUKE ORSINO's palace.
|
|
|
|
[Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and others]
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
|
|
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
|
|
That old and antique song we heard last night:
|
|
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
|
|
More than light airs and recollected terms
|
|
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
|
|
Come, but one verse.
|
|
|
|
CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Who was it?
|
|
|
|
CURIO Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady
|
|
Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
|
|
|
|
[Exit CURIO. Music plays]
|
|
|
|
Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,
|
|
In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
|
|
For such as I am all true lovers are,
|
|
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
|
|
Save in the constant image of the creature
|
|
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat
|
|
Where Love is throned.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly:
|
|
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
|
|
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
|
|
Hath it not, boy?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA A little, by your favour.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO What kind of woman is't?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Of your complexion.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA About your years, my lord.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Too old by heaven: let still the woman take
|
|
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
|
|
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
|
|
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
|
|
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
|
|
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
|
|
Than women's are.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I think it well, my lord.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
|
|
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
|
|
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
|
|
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA And so they are: alas, that they are so;
|
|
To die, even when they to perfection grow!
|
|
|
|
[Re-enter CURIO and Clown]
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
|
|
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
|
|
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
|
|
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
|
|
Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
|
|
And dallies with the innocence of love,
|
|
Like the old age.
|
|
|
|
Clown Are you ready, sir?
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Ay; prithee, sing.
|
|
|
|
[Music]
|
|
|
|
SONG.
|
|
Clown Come away, come away, death,
|
|
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
|
|
Fly away, fly away breath;
|
|
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
|
|
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
|
|
O, prepare it!
|
|
My part of death, no one so true
|
|
Did share it.
|
|
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
|
|
On my black coffin let there be strown;
|
|
Not a friend, not a friend greet
|
|
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
|
|
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
|
|
Lay me, O, where
|
|
Sad true lover never find my grave,
|
|
To weep there!
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO There's for thy pains.
|
|
|
|
Clown No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO I'll pay thy pleasure then.
|
|
|
|
Clown Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Give me now leave to leave thee.
|
|
|
|
Clown Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
|
|
tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for
|
|
thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such
|
|
constancy put to sea, that their business might be
|
|
every thing and their intent every where; for that's
|
|
it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Let all the rest give place.
|
|
|
|
[CURIO and Attendants retire]
|
|
|
|
Once more, Cesario,
|
|
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
|
|
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
|
|
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
|
|
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
|
|
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
|
|
But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
|
|
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA But if she cannot love you, sir?
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO I cannot be so answer'd.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Sooth, but you must.
|
|
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
|
|
Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
|
|
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
|
|
You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd?
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO There is no woman's sides
|
|
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
|
|
As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
|
|
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention
|
|
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
|
|
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
|
|
That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
|
|
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
|
|
And can digest as much: make no compare
|
|
Between that love a woman can bear me
|
|
And that I owe Olivia.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Ay, but I know--
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO What dost thou know?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Too well what love women to men may owe:
|
|
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
|
|
My father had a daughter loved a man,
|
|
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
|
|
I should your lordship.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO And what's her history?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
|
|
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
|
|
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
|
|
And with a green and yellow melancholy
|
|
She sat like patience on a monument,
|
|
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
|
|
We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
|
|
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
|
|
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I am all the daughters of my father's house,
|
|
And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
|
|
Sir, shall I to this lady?
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Ay, that's the theme.
|
|
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
|
|
My love can give no place, bide no denay.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT II
|
|
|
|
SCENE V OLIVIA's garden.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport,
|
|
let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly
|
|
rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
|
|
|
|
FABIAN I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o'
|
|
favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will
|
|
fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW An we do not, it is pity of our lives.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Here comes the little villain.
|
|
|
|
[Enter MARIA]
|
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How now, my metal of India!
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MARIA Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's
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coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the
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sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half
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hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I
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know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of
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him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there,
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[Throws down a letter]
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for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.
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[Exit]
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[Enter MALVOLIO]
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MALVOLIO 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
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me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come
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thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one
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of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more
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exalted respect than any one else that follows her.
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What should I think on't?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Here's an overweening rogue!
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FABIAN O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock
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of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
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SIR ANDREW 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!
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SIR TOBY BELCH Peace, I say.
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MALVOLIO To be Count Malvolio!
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SIR TOBY BELCH Ah, rogue!
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SIR ANDREW Pistol him, pistol him.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Peace, peace!
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MALVOLIO There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy
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married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
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SIR ANDREW Fie on him, Jezebel!
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FABIAN O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how
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imagination blows him.
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MALVOLIO Having been three months married to her, sitting in
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my state,--
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SIR TOBY BELCH O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
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MALVOLIO Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet
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gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left
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Olivia sleeping,--
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SIR TOBY BELCH Fire and brimstone!
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FABIAN O, peace, peace!
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MALVOLIO And then to have the humour of state; and after a
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demure travel of regard, telling them I know my
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place as I would they should do theirs, to for my
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kinsman Toby,--
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SIR TOBY BELCH Bolts and shackles!
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FABIAN O peace, peace, peace! now, now.
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MALVOLIO Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make
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out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind
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up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby
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approaches; courtesies there to me,--
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SIR TOBY BELCH Shall this fellow live?
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FABIAN Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.
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MALVOLIO I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar
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smile with an austere regard of control,--
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SIR TOBY BELCH And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?
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MALVOLIO Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on
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your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'--
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SIR TOBY BELCH What, what?
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MALVOLIO 'You must amend your drunkenness.'
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SIR TOBY BELCH Out, scab!
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FABIAN Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
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MALVOLIO 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with
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a foolish knight,'--
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SIR ANDREW That's me, I warrant you.
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MALVOLIO 'One Sir Andrew,'--
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SIR ANDREW I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.
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MALVOLIO What employment have we here?
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[Taking up the letter]
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FABIAN Now is the woodcock near the gin.
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SIR TOBY BELCH O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading
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aloud to him!
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MALVOLIO By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her
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very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her
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great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
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SIR ANDREW Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that?
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MALVOLIO [Reads] 'To the unknown beloved, this, and my good
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wishes:'--her very phrases! By your leave, wax.
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Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she
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uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?
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FABIAN This wins him, liver and all.
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MALVOLIO [Reads]
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Jove knows I love: But who?
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Lips, do not move;
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No man must know.
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'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers
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altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be
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thee, Malvolio?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Marry, hang thee, brock!
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MALVOLIO [Reads]
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I may command where I adore;
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But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
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With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:
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M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
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FABIAN A fustian riddle!
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SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent wench, say I.
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MALVOLIO 'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let
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me see, let me see, let me see.
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FABIAN What dish o' poison has she dressed him!
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SIR TOBY BELCH And with what wing the staniel cheques at it!
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MALVOLIO 'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command
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me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is
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evident to any formal capacity; there is no
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obstruction in this: and the end,--what should
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that alphabetical position portend? If I could make
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that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A,
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I,--
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SIR TOBY BELCH O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent.
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FABIAN Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as
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rank as a fox.
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MALVOLIO M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name.
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FABIAN Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is
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excellent at faults.
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MALVOLIO M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel;
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that suffers under probation A should follow but O does.
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FABIAN And O shall end, I hope.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!
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MALVOLIO And then I comes behind.
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FABIAN Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see
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more detraction at your heels than fortunes before
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you.
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MALVOLIO M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and
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yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for
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every one of these letters are in my name. Soft!
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here follows prose.
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[Reads]
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'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I
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am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some
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are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
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have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open
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their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them;
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and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be,
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cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be
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opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let
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thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into
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the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee
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that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy
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yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever
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cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art
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made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see
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thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and
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not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell.
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She that would alter services with thee,
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THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.'
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Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is
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open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors,
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I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross
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acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man.
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I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade
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me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady
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loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of
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late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered;
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and in this she manifests herself to my love, and
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with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits
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of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will
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be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and
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cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting
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on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
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postscript.
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[Reads]
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'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
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entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling;
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thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my
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presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.'
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Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do
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everything that thou wilt have me.
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[Exit]
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FABIAN I will not give my part of this sport for a pension
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of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
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SIR TOBY BELCH I could marry this wench for this device.
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SIR ANDREW So could I too.
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SIR TOBY BELCH And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.
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SIR ANDREW Nor I neither.
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FABIAN Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
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[Re-enter MARIA]
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SIR TOBY BELCH Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
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SIR ANDREW Or o' mine either?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy
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bond-slave?
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SIR ANDREW I' faith, or I either?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when
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the image of it leaves him he must run mad.
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MARIA Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?
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SIR TOBY BELCH Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.
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MARIA If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark
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his first approach before my lady: he will come to
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her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she
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abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;
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and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
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unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a
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melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him
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into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow
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me.
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SIR TOBY BELCH To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!
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SIR ANDREW I'll make one too.
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[Exeunt]
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TWELFTH NIGHT
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ACT III
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SCENE I OLIVIA's garden.
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[Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabour]
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VIOLA Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
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thy tabour?
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Clown No, sir, I live by the church.
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VIOLA Art thou a churchman?
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Clown No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for
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I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by
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the church.
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VIOLA So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a
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beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy
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tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.
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Clown You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is
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but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the
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wrong side may be turned outward!
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VIOLA Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with
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words may quickly make them wanton.
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Clown I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
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VIOLA Why, man?
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Clown Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that
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word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words
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are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.
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VIOLA Thy reason, man?
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Clown Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and
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words are grown so false, I am loath to prove
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reason with them.
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VIOLA I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.
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Clown Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my
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conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be
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to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
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VIOLA Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?
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Clown No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she
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will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and
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fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to
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herrings; the husband's the bigger: I am indeed not
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her fool, but her corrupter of words.
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VIOLA I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.
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Clown Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun,
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it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but
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the fool should be as oft with your master as with
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my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.
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VIOLA Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
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Hold, there's expenses for thee.
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Clown Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!
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VIOLA By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for
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one;
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[Aside]
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though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy
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lady within?
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Clown Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
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VIOLA Yes, being kept together and put to use.
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Clown I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring
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a Cressida to this Troilus.
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VIOLA I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.
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Clown The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but
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a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is
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within, sir. I will construe to them whence you
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come; who you are and what you would are out of my
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welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn.
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[Exit]
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VIOLA This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
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And to do that well craves a kind of wit:
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He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
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The quality of persons, and the time,
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And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather
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That comes before his eye. This is a practise
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As full of labour as a wise man's art
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For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
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But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.
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[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW]
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SIR TOBY BELCH Save you, gentleman.
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VIOLA And you, sir.
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SIR ANDREW Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
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VIOLA Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
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SIR ANDREW I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous
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you should enter, if your trade be to her.
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VIOLA I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
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list of my voyage.
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SIR TOBY BELCH Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.
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VIOLA My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
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understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
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SIR TOBY BELCH I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
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VIOLA I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we
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are prevented.
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[Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]
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Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
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odours on you!
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SIR ANDREW That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well.
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VIOLA My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant
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and vouchsafed ear.
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SIR ANDREW 'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em
|
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all three all ready.
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OLIVIA Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
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[Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA]
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Give me your hand, sir.
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VIOLA My duty, madam, and most humble service.
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OLIVIA What is your name?
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VIOLA Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
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OLIVIA My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world
|
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Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
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You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
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VIOLA And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
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Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
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OLIVIA For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
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Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
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VIOLA Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
|
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On his behalf.
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OLIVIA O, by your leave, I pray you,
|
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I bade you never speak again of him:
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|
But, would you undertake another suit,
|
|
I had rather hear you to solicit that
|
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Than music from the spheres.
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VIOLA Dear lady,--
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OLIVIA Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
|
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After the last enchantment you did here,
|
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A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
|
|
Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you:
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Under your hard construction must I sit,
|
|
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
|
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Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?
|
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Have you not set mine honour at the stake
|
|
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
|
|
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
|
|
Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
|
|
Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak.
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VIOLA I pity you.
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OLIVIA That's a degree to love.
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VIOLA No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
|
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That very oft we pity enemies.
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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!
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[Clock strikes]
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|
|
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
|
|
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
|
|
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
|
|
Your were is alike to reap a proper man:
|
|
There lies your way, due west.
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VIOLA Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
|
|
Attend your ladyship!
|
|
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
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OLIVIA Stay:
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I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.
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VIOLA That you do think you are not what you are.
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OLIVIA If I think so, I think the same of you.
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VIOLA Then think you right: I am not what I am.
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OLIVIA I would you were as I would have you be!
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VIOLA Would it be better, madam, than I am?
|
|
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
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OLIVIA O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
|
|
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
|
|
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
|
|
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
|
|
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
|
|
By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing,
|
|
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
|
|
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
|
|
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
|
|
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause,
|
|
But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
|
|
Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA By innocence I swear, and by my youth
|
|
I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
|
|
And that no woman has; nor never none
|
|
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
|
|
And so adieu, good madam: never more
|
|
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move
|
|
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT III
|
|
|
|
SCENE II OLIVIA's house.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN]
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the
|
|
count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me;
|
|
I saw't i' the orchard.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW As plain as I see you now.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN This was a great argument of love in her toward you.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW 'Slight, will you make an ass o' me?
|
|
|
|
FABIAN I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of
|
|
judgment and reason.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH And they have been grand-jury-men since before Noah
|
|
was a sailor.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN She did show favour to the youth in your sight only
|
|
to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to
|
|
put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver.
|
|
You should then have accosted her; and with some
|
|
excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should
|
|
have banged the youth into dumbness. This was
|
|
looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the
|
|
double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash
|
|
off, and you are now sailed into the north of my
|
|
lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle
|
|
on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by
|
|
some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW An't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy
|
|
I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a
|
|
politician.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of
|
|
valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight
|
|
with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall
|
|
take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no
|
|
love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's
|
|
commendation with woman than report of valour.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief;
|
|
it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun
|
|
of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink:
|
|
if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be
|
|
amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of
|
|
paper, although the sheet were big enough for the
|
|
bed of Ware in England, set 'em down: go, about it.
|
|
Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou
|
|
write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Where shall I find you?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go.
|
|
|
|
[Exit SIR ANDREW]
|
|
|
|
FABIAN This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand
|
|
strong, or so.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll
|
|
not deliver't?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the
|
|
youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes
|
|
cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were
|
|
opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as
|
|
will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of
|
|
the anatomy.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no
|
|
great presage of cruelty.
|
|
|
|
[Enter MARIA]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes.
|
|
|
|
MARIA If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself
|
|
into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is
|
|
turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no
|
|
Christian, that means to be saved by believing
|
|
rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages
|
|
of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH And cross-gartered?
|
|
|
|
MARIA Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school
|
|
i' the church. I have dogged him, like his
|
|
murderer. He does obey every point of the letter
|
|
that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his
|
|
face into more lines than is in the new map with the
|
|
augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such
|
|
a thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things
|
|
at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she do,
|
|
he'll smile and take't for a great favour.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT III
|
|
|
|
SCENE III A street.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO]
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I would not by my will have troubled you;
|
|
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
|
|
I will no further chide you.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO I could not stay behind you: my desire,
|
|
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
|
|
And not all love to see you, though so much
|
|
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,
|
|
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
|
|
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,
|
|
Unguided and unfriended, often prove
|
|
Rough and unhospitable: my willing love,
|
|
The rather by these arguments of fear,
|
|
Set forth in your pursuit.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN My kind Antonio,
|
|
I can no other answer make but thanks,
|
|
And thanks; and ever [ ] oft good turns
|
|
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
|
|
But, were my worth as is my conscience firm,
|
|
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
|
|
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I am not weary, and 'tis long to night:
|
|
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
|
|
With the memorials and the things of fame
|
|
That do renown this city.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Would you'ld pardon me;
|
|
I do not without danger walk these streets:
|
|
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys
|
|
I did some service; of such note indeed,
|
|
That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Belike you slew great number of his people.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO The offence is not of such a bloody nature;
|
|
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel
|
|
Might well have given us bloody argument.
|
|
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
|
|
What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake,
|
|
Most of our city did: only myself stood out;
|
|
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,
|
|
I shall pay dear.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Do not then walk too open.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse.
|
|
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
|
|
Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
|
|
Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge
|
|
With viewing of the town: there shall you have me.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Why I your purse?
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
|
|
You have desire to purchase; and your store,
|
|
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you
|
|
For an hour.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO To the Elephant.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I do remember.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT III
|
|
|
|
SCENE IV OLIVIA's garden.
|
|
|
|
[Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA I have sent after him: he says he'll come;
|
|
How shall I feast him? what bestow of him?
|
|
For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd.
|
|
I speak too loud.
|
|
Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil,
|
|
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes:
|
|
Where is Malvolio?
|
|
|
|
MARIA He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He
|
|
is, sure, possessed, madam.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Why, what's the matter? does he rave?
|
|
|
|
MARIA No. madam, he does nothing but smile: your
|
|
ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if
|
|
he come; for, sure, the man is tainted in's wits.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Go call him hither.
|
|
|
|
[Exit MARIA]
|
|
|
|
I am as mad as he,
|
|
If sad and merry madness equal be.
|
|
|
|
[Re-enter MARIA, with MALVOLIO]
|
|
|
|
How now, Malvolio!
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Sweet lady, ho, ho.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Smilest thou?
|
|
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does make some
|
|
obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but
|
|
what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is
|
|
with me as the very true sonnet is, 'Please one, and
|
|
please all.'
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It
|
|
did come to his hands, and commands shall be
|
|
executed: I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO To bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so and kiss
|
|
thy hand so oft?
|
|
|
|
MARIA How do you, Malvolio?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO At your request! yes; nightingales answer daws.
|
|
|
|
MARIA Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO 'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas well writ.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO 'Some are born great,'--
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Ha!
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO 'Some achieve greatness,'--
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA What sayest thou?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO 'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Heaven restore thee!
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO 'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,'--
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Thy yellow stockings!
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO 'And wished to see thee cross-gartered.'
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Cross-gartered!
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO 'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so;'--
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Am I made?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO 'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Why, this is very midsummer madness.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Servant]
|
|
|
|
Servant Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is
|
|
returned: I could hardly entreat him back: he
|
|
attends your ladyship's pleasure.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA I'll come to him.
|
|
|
|
[Exit Servant]
|
|
|
|
Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's
|
|
my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special
|
|
care of him: I would not have him miscarry for the
|
|
half of my dowry.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt OLIVIA and MARIA]
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO O, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than
|
|
Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with
|
|
the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may
|
|
appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that
|
|
in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says she;
|
|
'be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants;
|
|
let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put
|
|
thyself into the trick of singularity;' and
|
|
consequently sets down the manner how; as, a sad
|
|
face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the
|
|
habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have
|
|
limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me
|
|
thankful! And when she went away now, 'Let this
|
|
fellow be looked to:' fellow! not Malvolio, nor
|
|
after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing
|
|
adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no
|
|
scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous
|
|
or unsafe circumstance--What can be said? Nothing
|
|
that can be can come between me and the full
|
|
prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the
|
|
doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
|
|
|
|
[Re-enter MARIA, with SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all
|
|
the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion
|
|
himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir?
|
|
how is't with you, man?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private: go
|
|
off.
|
|
|
|
MARIA Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not
|
|
I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a
|
|
care of him.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Ah, ha! does she so?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently
|
|
with him: let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how
|
|
is't with you? What, man! defy the devil:
|
|
consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Do you know what you say?
|
|
|
|
MARIA La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes
|
|
it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched!
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Carry his water to the wise woman.
|
|
|
|
MARIA Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I
|
|
live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO How now, mistress!
|
|
|
|
MARIA O Lord!
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: do
|
|
you not see you move him? let me alone with him.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is
|
|
rough, and will not be roughly used.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Sir!
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for
|
|
gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: hang
|
|
him, foul collier!
|
|
|
|
MARIA Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO My prayers, minx!
|
|
|
|
MARIA No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow
|
|
things: I am not of your element: you shall know
|
|
more hereafter.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Is't possible?
|
|
|
|
FABIAN If this were played upon a stage now, I could
|
|
condemn it as an improbable fiction.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.
|
|
|
|
MARIA Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Why, we shall make him mad indeed.
|
|
|
|
MARIA The house will be the quieter.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My
|
|
niece is already in the belief that he's mad: we
|
|
may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance,
|
|
till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt
|
|
us to have mercy on him: at which time we will
|
|
bring the device to the bar and crown thee for a
|
|
finder of madmen. But see, but see.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SIR ANDREW]
|
|
|
|
FABIAN More matter for a May morning.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Here's the challenge, read it: warrant there's
|
|
vinegar and pepper in't.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Is't so saucy?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but read.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Give me.
|
|
|
|
[Reads]
|
|
|
|
'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.'
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Good, and valiant.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind,
|
|
why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.'
|
|
|
|
FABIAN A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my
|
|
sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy
|
|
throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for.'
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Very brief, and to exceeding good sense--less.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it
|
|
be thy chance to kill me,'--
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Good.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.'
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: good.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon
|
|
one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but
|
|
my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy
|
|
friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy,
|
|
ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
|
|
If this letter move him not, his legs cannot:
|
|
I'll give't him.
|
|
|
|
MARIA You may have very fit occasion for't: he is now in
|
|
some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner the
|
|
orchard like a bum-baily: so soon as ever thou seest
|
|
him, draw; and, as thou drawest swear horrible; for
|
|
it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a
|
|
swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood
|
|
more approbation than ever proof itself would have
|
|
earned him. Away!
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Nay, let me alone for swearing.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behavior
|
|
of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good
|
|
capacity and breeding; his employment between his
|
|
lord and my niece confirms no less: therefore this
|
|
letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no
|
|
terror in the youth: he will find it comes from a
|
|
clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by
|
|
word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable report
|
|
of valour; and drive the gentleman, as I know his
|
|
youth will aptly receive it, into a most hideous
|
|
opinion of his rage, skill, fury and impetuosity.
|
|
This will so fright them both that they will kill
|
|
one another by the look, like cockatrices.
|
|
|
|
[Re-enter OLIVIA, with VIOLA]
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Here he comes with your niece: give them way till
|
|
he take leave, and presently after him.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH I will meditate the while upon some horrid message
|
|
for a challenge.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, FABIAN, and MARIA]
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA I have said too much unto a heart of stone
|
|
And laid mine honour too unchary out:
|
|
There's something in me that reproves my fault;
|
|
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
|
|
That it but mocks reproof.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA With the same 'havior that your passion bears
|
|
Goes on my master's grief.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
|
|
Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you;
|
|
And I beseech you come again to-morrow.
|
|
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,
|
|
That honour saved may upon asking give?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Nothing but this; your true love for my master.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA How with mine honour may I give him that
|
|
Which I have given to you?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I will acquit you.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Well, come again to-morrow: fare thee well:
|
|
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
[Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Gentleman, God save thee.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA And you, sir.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what
|
|
nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know
|
|
not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as
|
|
the hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end:
|
|
dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for
|
|
thy assailant is quick, skilful and deadly.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel
|
|
to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from
|
|
any image of offence done to any man.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore,
|
|
if you hold your life at any price, betake you to
|
|
your guard; for your opposite hath in him what
|
|
youth, strength, skill and wrath can furnish man withal.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I pray you, sir, what is he?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier and on
|
|
carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private
|
|
brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and
|
|
his incensement at this moment is so implacable,
|
|
that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death
|
|
and sepulchre. Hob, nob, is his word; give't or take't.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I will return again into the house and desire some
|
|
conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard
|
|
of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on
|
|
others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man
|
|
of that quirk.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a
|
|
very competent injury: therefore, get you on and
|
|
give him his desire. Back you shall not to the
|
|
house, unless you undertake that with me which with
|
|
as much safety you might answer him: therefore, on,
|
|
or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you
|
|
must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me
|
|
this courteous office, as to know of the knight what
|
|
my offence to him is: it is something of my
|
|
negligence, nothing of my purpose.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this
|
|
gentleman till my return.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
|
|
|
|
FABIAN I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a
|
|
mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by
|
|
his form, as you are like to find him in the proof
|
|
of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful,
|
|
bloody and fatal opposite that you could possibly
|
|
have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk
|
|
towards him? I will make your peace with him if I
|
|
can.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one that
|
|
had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I
|
|
care not who knows so much of my mettle.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
[Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH, with SIR ANDREW]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a
|
|
firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard and
|
|
all, and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal
|
|
motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he
|
|
pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they
|
|
step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can
|
|
scarce hold him yonder.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Plague on't, an I thought he had been valiant and so
|
|
cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld
|
|
have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip,
|
|
and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH I'll make the motion: stand here, make a good show
|
|
on't: this shall end without the perdition of souls.
|
|
|
|
[Aside]
|
|
|
|
Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.
|
|
|
|
[Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA]
|
|
|
|
[To FABIAN]
|
|
|
|
I have his horse to take up the quarrel:
|
|
I have persuaded him the youth's a devil.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and
|
|
looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH [To VIOLA] There's no remedy, sir; he will fight
|
|
with you for's oath sake: marry, he hath better
|
|
bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now
|
|
scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for
|
|
the supportance of his vow; he protests he will not hurt you.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA [Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would
|
|
make me tell them how much I lack of a man.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Give ground, if you see him furious.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman
|
|
will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you;
|
|
he cannot by the duello avoid it: but he has
|
|
promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he
|
|
will not hurt you. Come on; to't.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Pray God, he keep his oath!
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I do assure you, 'tis against my will.
|
|
|
|
[They draw]
|
|
|
|
[Enter ANTONIO]
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Put up your sword. If this young gentleman
|
|
Have done offence, I take the fault on me:
|
|
If you offend him, I for him defy you.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH You, sir! why, what are you?
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more
|
|
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.
|
|
|
|
[They draw]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Officers]
|
|
|
|
FABIAN O good Sir Toby, hold! here come the officers.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH I'll be with you anon.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Marry, will I, sir; and, for that I promised you,
|
|
I'll be as good as my word: he will bear you easily
|
|
and reins well.
|
|
|
|
First Officer This is the man; do thy office.
|
|
|
|
Second Officer Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO You do mistake me, sir.
|
|
|
|
First Officer No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well,
|
|
Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.
|
|
Take him away: he knows I know him well.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO I must obey.
|
|
|
|
[To VIOLA]
|
|
|
|
This comes with seeking you:
|
|
But there's no remedy; I shall answer it.
|
|
What will you do, now my necessity
|
|
Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me
|
|
Much more for what I cannot do for you
|
|
Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed;
|
|
But be of comfort.
|
|
|
|
Second Officer Come, sir, away.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO I must entreat of you some of that money.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA What money, sir?
|
|
For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
|
|
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
|
|
Out of my lean and low ability
|
|
I'll lend you something: my having is not much;
|
|
I'll make division of my present with you:
|
|
Hold, there's half my coffer.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Will you deny me now?
|
|
Is't possible that my deserts to you
|
|
Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,
|
|
Lest that it make me so unsound a man
|
|
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
|
|
That I have done for you.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA I know of none;
|
|
Nor know I you by voice or any feature:
|
|
I hate ingratitude more in a man
|
|
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
|
|
Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption
|
|
Inhabits our frail blood.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO O heavens themselves!
|
|
|
|
Second Officer Come, sir, I pray you, go.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here
|
|
I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death,
|
|
Relieved him with such sanctity of love,
|
|
And to his image, which methought did promise
|
|
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
|
|
|
|
First Officer What's that to us? The time goes by: away!
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO But O how vile an idol proves this god
|
|
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
|
|
In nature there's no blemish but the mind;
|
|
None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind:
|
|
Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil
|
|
Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil.
|
|
|
|
First Officer The man grows mad: away with him! Come, come, sir.
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Lead me on.
|
|
|
|
[Exit with Officers]
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Methinks his words do from such passion fly,
|
|
That he believes himself: so do not I.
|
|
Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
|
|
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian: we'll
|
|
whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA He named Sebastian: I my brother know
|
|
Yet living in my glass; even such and so
|
|
In favour was my brother, and he went
|
|
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
|
|
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
|
|
Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than
|
|
a hare: his dishonesty appears in leaving his
|
|
friend here in necessity and denying him; and for
|
|
his cowardship, ask Fabian.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW An I do not,--
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Come, let's see the event.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT IV
|
|
|
|
SCENE I Before OLIVIA's house.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SEBASTIAN and Clown]
|
|
|
|
Clown Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow:
|
|
Let me be clear of thee.
|
|
|
|
Clown Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor
|
|
I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come
|
|
speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario;
|
|
nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else: Thou
|
|
know'st not me.
|
|
|
|
Clown Vent my folly! he has heard that word of some
|
|
great man and now applies it to a fool. Vent my
|
|
folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world,
|
|
will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird thy
|
|
strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my
|
|
lady: shall I vent to her that thou art coming?
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me: There's
|
|
money for thee: if you tarry longer, I shall give
|
|
worse payment.
|
|
|
|
Clown By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men
|
|
that give fools money get themselves a good
|
|
report--after fourteen years' purchase.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY BELCH, and FABIAN]
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. Are all
|
|
the people mad?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.
|
|
|
|
Clown This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be
|
|
in some of your coats for two pence.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come on, sir; hold.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW Nay, let him alone: I'll go another way to work
|
|
with him; I'll have an action of battery against
|
|
him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I
|
|
struck him first, yet it's no matter for that.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Let go thy hand.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young
|
|
soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If
|
|
thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two
|
|
of this malapert blood from you.
|
|
|
|
[Enter OLIVIA]
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge thee, hold!
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Madam!
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,
|
|
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,
|
|
Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight!
|
|
Be not offended, dear Cesario.
|
|
Rudesby, be gone!
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN]
|
|
|
|
I prithee, gentle friend,
|
|
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
|
|
In this uncivil and thou unjust extent
|
|
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
|
|
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
|
|
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
|
|
Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go:
|
|
Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me,
|
|
He started one poor heart of mine in thee.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN What relish is in this? how runs the stream?
|
|
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream:
|
|
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
|
|
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Nay, come, I prithee; would thou'ldst be ruled by me!
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Madam, I will.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA O, say so, and so be!
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT IV
|
|
|
|
SCENE II OLIVIA's house.
|
|
|
|
[Enter MARIA and Clown]
|
|
|
|
MARIA Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard;
|
|
make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do
|
|
it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
Clown Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself
|
|
in't; and I would I were the first that ever
|
|
dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to
|
|
become the function well, nor lean enough to be
|
|
thought a good student; but to be said an honest man
|
|
and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a
|
|
careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Jove bless thee, master Parson.
|
|
|
|
Clown Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of
|
|
Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily
|
|
said to a niece of King Gorboduc, 'That that is is;'
|
|
so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for,
|
|
what is 'that' but 'that,' and 'is' but 'is'?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH To him, Sir Topas.
|
|
|
|
Clown What, ho, I say! peace in this prison!
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO [Within] Who calls there?
|
|
|
|
Clown Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio
|
|
the lunatic.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.
|
|
|
|
Clown Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man!
|
|
talkest thou nothing but of ladies?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Well said, Master Parson.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir
|
|
Topas, do not think I am mad: they have laid me
|
|
here in hideous darkness.
|
|
|
|
Clown Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most
|
|
modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones
|
|
that will use the devil himself with courtesy:
|
|
sayest thou that house is dark?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO As hell, Sir Topas.
|
|
|
|
Clown Why it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes,
|
|
and the clearstores toward the south north are as
|
|
lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of
|
|
obstruction?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO I am not mad, Sir Topas: I say to you, this house is dark.
|
|
|
|
Clown Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness
|
|
but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than
|
|
the Egyptians in their fog.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though
|
|
ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there
|
|
was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you
|
|
are: make the trial of it in any constant question.
|
|
|
|
Clown What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
|
|
|
|
Clown What thinkest thou of his opinion?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.
|
|
|
|
Clown Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness:
|
|
thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will
|
|
allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock, lest
|
|
thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Sir Topas, Sir Topas!
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH My most exquisite Sir Topas!
|
|
|
|
Clown Nay, I am for all waters.
|
|
|
|
MARIA Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and
|
|
gown: he sees thee not.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how
|
|
thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this
|
|
knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I
|
|
would he were, for I am now so far in offence with
|
|
my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this
|
|
sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]
|
|
|
|
Clown [Singing]
|
|
|
|
'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
|
|
Tell me how thy lady does.'
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Fool!
|
|
|
|
Clown 'My lady is unkind, perdy.'
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Fool!
|
|
|
|
Clown 'Alas, why is she so?'
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Fool, I say!
|
|
|
|
Clown 'She loves another'--Who calls, ha?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my
|
|
hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper:
|
|
as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to
|
|
thee for't.
|
|
|
|
Clown Master Malvolio?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Ay, good fool.
|
|
|
|
Clown Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused: I
|
|
am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.
|
|
|
|
Clown But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no
|
|
better in your wits than a fool.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness,
|
|
send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to
|
|
face me out of my wits.
|
|
|
|
Clown Advise you what you say; the minister is here.
|
|
Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore!
|
|
endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain
|
|
bibble babble.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Sir Topas!
|
|
|
|
Clown Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I,
|
|
sir? not I, sir. God be wi' you, good Sir Topas.
|
|
Merry, amen. I will, sir, I will.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Fool, fool, fool, I say!
|
|
|
|
Clown Alas, sir, be patient. What say you sir? I am
|
|
shent for speaking to you.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: I
|
|
tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.
|
|
|
|
Clown Well-a-day that you were, sir
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper and
|
|
light; and convey what I will set down to my lady:
|
|
it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing
|
|
of letter did.
|
|
|
|
Clown I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you
|
|
not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit?
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.
|
|
|
|
Clown Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his
|
|
brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I
|
|
prithee, be gone.
|
|
|
|
Clown [Singing]
|
|
|
|
I am gone, sir,
|
|
And anon, sir,
|
|
I'll be with you again,
|
|
In a trice,
|
|
Like to the old Vice,
|
|
Your need to sustain;
|
|
Who, with dagger of lath,
|
|
In his rage and his wrath,
|
|
Cries, ah, ha! to the devil:
|
|
Like a mad lad,
|
|
Pare thy nails, dad;
|
|
Adieu, good man devil.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT IV
|
|
|
|
SCENE III OLIVIA's garden.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SEBASTIAN]
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
|
|
This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't;
|
|
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
|
|
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then?
|
|
I could not find him at the Elephant:
|
|
Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
|
|
That he did range the town to seek me out.
|
|
His counsel now might do me golden service;
|
|
For though my soul disputes well with my sense,
|
|
That this may be some error, but no madness,
|
|
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
|
|
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
|
|
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
|
|
And wrangle with my reason that persuades me
|
|
To any other trust but that I am mad
|
|
Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so,
|
|
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
|
|
Take and give back affairs and their dispatch
|
|
With such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing
|
|
As I perceive she does: there's something in't
|
|
That is deceiveable. But here the lady comes.
|
|
|
|
[Enter OLIVIA and Priest]
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well,
|
|
Now go with me and with this holy man
|
|
Into the chantry by: there, before him,
|
|
And underneath that consecrated roof,
|
|
Plight me the full assurance of your faith;
|
|
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
|
|
May live at peace. He shall conceal it
|
|
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note,
|
|
What time we will our celebration keep
|
|
According to my birth. What do you say?
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I'll follow this good man, and go with you;
|
|
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine,
|
|
That they may fairly note this act of mine!
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
|
|
|
TWELFTH NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ACT V
|
|
|
|
SCENE I Before OLIVIA's house.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Clown and FABIAN]
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.
|
|
|
|
Clown Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Any thing.
|
|
|
|
Clown Do not desire to see this letter.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN This is, to give a dog, and in recompense desire my
|
|
dog again.
|
|
|
|
[Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and Lords]
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?
|
|
|
|
Clown Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow?
|
|
|
|
Clown Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse
|
|
for my friends.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.
|
|
|
|
Clown No, sir, the worse.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO How can that be?
|
|
|
|
Clown Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me;
|
|
now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by
|
|
my foes, sir I profit in the knowledge of myself,
|
|
and by my friends, I am abused: so that,
|
|
conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives
|
|
make your two affirmatives why then, the worse for
|
|
my friends and the better for my foes.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Why, this is excellent.
|
|
|
|
Clown By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be
|
|
one of my friends.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there's gold.
|
|
|
|
Clown But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would
|
|
you could make it another.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO O, you give me ill counsel.
|
|
|
|
Clown Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once,
|
|
and let your flesh and blood obey it.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a
|
|
double-dealer: there's another.
|
|
|
|
Clown Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old
|
|
saying is, the third pays for all: the triplex,
|
|
sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of
|
|
Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind; one, two, three.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO You can fool no more money out of me at this throw:
|
|
if you will let your lady know I am here to speak
|
|
with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake
|
|
my bounty further.
|
|
|
|
Clown Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come
|
|
again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think
|
|
that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness:
|
|
but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I
|
|
will awake it anon.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
|
|
|
|
[Enter ANTONIO and Officers]
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO That face of his I do remember well;
|
|
Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
|
|
As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war:
|
|
A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
|
|
For shallow draught and bulk unprizable;
|
|
With which such scathful grapple did he make
|
|
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
|
|
That very envy and the tongue of loss
|
|
Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter?
|
|
|
|
First Officer Orsino, this is that Antonio
|
|
That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy;
|
|
And this is he that did the Tiger board,
|
|
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:
|
|
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,
|
|
In private brabble did we apprehend him.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side;
|
|
But in conclusion put strange speech upon me:
|
|
I know not what 'twas but distraction.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief!
|
|
What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies,
|
|
Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,
|
|
Hast made thine enemies?
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Orsino, noble sir,
|
|
Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me:
|
|
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,
|
|
Though I confess, on base and ground enough,
|
|
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
|
|
That most ingrateful boy there by your side,
|
|
From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth
|
|
Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:
|
|
His life I gave him and did thereto add
|
|
My love, without retention or restraint,
|
|
All his in dedication; for his sake
|
|
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
|
|
Into the danger of this adverse town;
|
|
Drew to defend him when he was beset:
|
|
Where being apprehended, his false cunning,
|
|
Not meaning to partake with me in danger,
|
|
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
|
|
And grew a twenty years removed thing
|
|
While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
|
|
Which I had recommended to his use
|
|
Not half an hour before.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA How can this be?
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO When came he to this town?
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO To-day, my lord; and for three months before,
|
|
No interim, not a minute's vacancy,
|
|
Both day and night did we keep company.
|
|
|
|
[Enter OLIVIA and Attendants]
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on earth.
|
|
But for thee, fellow; fellow, thy words are madness:
|
|
Three months this youth hath tended upon me;
|
|
But more of that anon. Take him aside.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA What would my lord, but that he may not have,
|
|
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?
|
|
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Madam!
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Gracious Olivia,--
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord,--
|
|
|
|
VIOLA My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
|
|
It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
|
|
As howling after music.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Still so cruel?
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Still so constant, lord.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO What, to perverseness? you uncivil lady,
|
|
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
|
|
My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out
|
|
That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
|
|
Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death,
|
|
Kill what I love?--a savage jealousy
|
|
That sometimes savours nobly. But hear me this:
|
|
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
|
|
And that I partly know the instrument
|
|
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
|
|
Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still;
|
|
But this your minion, whom I know you love,
|
|
And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
|
|
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,
|
|
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.
|
|
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief:
|
|
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,
|
|
To spite a raven's heart within a dove.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA And I, most jocund, apt and willingly,
|
|
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Where goes Cesario?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA After him I love
|
|
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
|
|
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
|
|
If I do feign, you witnesses above
|
|
Punish my life for tainting of my love!
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Ay me, detested! how am I beguiled!
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long?
|
|
Call forth the holy father.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Come, away!
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Husband!
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Ay, husband: can he that deny?
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Her husband, sirrah!
|
|
|
|
VIOLA No, my lord, not I.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear
|
|
That makes thee strangle thy propriety:
|
|
Fear not, Cesario; take thy fortunes up;
|
|
Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
|
|
As great as that thou fear'st.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Priest]
|
|
|
|
O, welcome, father!
|
|
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
|
|
Here to unfold, though lately we intended
|
|
To keep in darkness what occasion now
|
|
Reveals before 'tis ripe, what thou dost know
|
|
Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me.
|
|
|
|
Priest A contract of eternal bond of love,
|
|
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
|
|
Attested by the holy close of lips,
|
|
Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
|
|
And all the ceremony of this compact
|
|
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:
|
|
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave
|
|
I have travell'd but two hours.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be
|
|
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?
|
|
Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow,
|
|
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?
|
|
Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet
|
|
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA My lord, I do protest--
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA O, do not swear!
|
|
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SIR ANDREW]
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently
|
|
to Sir Toby.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA What's the matter?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW He has broke my head across and has given Sir Toby
|
|
a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your
|
|
help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Who has done this, Sir Andrew?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for
|
|
a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO My gentleman, Cesario?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW 'Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for
|
|
nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do't
|
|
by Sir Toby.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you:
|
|
You drew your sword upon me without cause;
|
|
But I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I
|
|
think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.
|
|
|
|
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and Clown]
|
|
|
|
Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more:
|
|
but if he had not been in drink, he would have
|
|
tickled you othergates than he did.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO How now, gentleman! how is't with you?
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH That's all one: has hurt me, and there's the end
|
|
on't. Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot?
|
|
|
|
Clown O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes
|
|
were set at eight i' the morning.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I
|
|
hate a drunken rogue.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?
|
|
|
|
SIR ANDREW I'll help you, Sir Toby, because well be dressed together.
|
|
|
|
SIR TOBY BELCH Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a
|
|
knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull!
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt Clown, FABIAN, SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW]
|
|
|
|
[Enter SEBASTIAN]
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman:
|
|
But, had it been the brother of my blood,
|
|
I must have done no less with wit and safety.
|
|
You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that
|
|
I do perceive it hath offended you:
|
|
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
|
|
We made each other but so late ago.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,
|
|
A natural perspective, that is and is not!
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Antonio, O my dear Antonio!
|
|
How have the hours rack'd and tortured me,
|
|
Since I have lost thee!
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO Sebastian are you?
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Fear'st thou that, Antonio?
|
|
|
|
ANTONIO How have you made division of yourself?
|
|
An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
|
|
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Most wonderful!
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN Do I stand there? I never had a brother;
|
|
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
|
|
Of here and every where. I had a sister,
|
|
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd.
|
|
Of charity, what kin are you to me?
|
|
What countryman? what name? what parentage?
|
|
|
|
VIOLA Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
|
|
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
|
|
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
|
|
If spirits can assume both form and suit
|
|
You come to fright us.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN A spirit I am indeed;
|
|
But am in that dimension grossly clad
|
|
Which from the womb I did participate.
|
|
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
|
|
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
|
|
And say 'Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!'
|
|
|
|
VIOLA My father had a mole upon his brow.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN And so had mine.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA And died that day when Viola from her birth
|
|
Had number'd thirteen years.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN O, that record is lively in my soul!
|
|
He finished indeed his mortal act
|
|
That day that made my sister thirteen years.
|
|
|
|
VIOLA If nothing lets to make us happy both
|
|
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
|
|
Do not embrace me till each circumstance
|
|
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
|
|
That I am Viola: which to confirm,
|
|
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
|
|
Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
|
|
I was preserved to serve this noble count.
|
|
All the occurrence of my fortune since
|
|
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
|
|
|
|
SEBASTIAN [To OLIVIA] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook:
|
|
But nature to her bias drew in that.
|
|
You would have been contracted to a maid;
|
|
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived,
|
|
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
|
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DUKE ORSINO Be not amazed; right noble is his blood.
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If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
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I shall have share in this most happy wreck.
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[To VIOLA]
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Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times
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Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
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VIOLA And all those sayings will I overswear;
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And those swearings keep as true in soul
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As doth that orbed continent the fire
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That severs day from night.
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DUKE ORSINO Give me thy hand;
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And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
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VIOLA The captain that did bring me first on shore
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Hath my maid's garments: he upon some action
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Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit,
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A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.
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OLIVIA He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio hither:
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And yet, alas, now I remember me,
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They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.
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[Re-enter Clown with a letter, and FABIAN]
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A most extracting frenzy of mine own
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From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.
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How does he, sirrah?
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Clown Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the staves's end as
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well as a man in his case may do: has here writ a
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letter to you; I should have given't you to-day
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morning, but as a madman's epistles are no gospels,
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so it skills not much when they are delivered.
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OLIVIA Open't, and read it.
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Clown Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers
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the madman.
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[Reads]
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'By the Lord, madam,'--
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OLIVIA How now! art thou mad?
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Clown No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship
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will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox.
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OLIVIA Prithee, read i' thy right wits.
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Clown So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to
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read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.
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OLIVIA Read it you, sirrah.
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[To FABIAN]
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FABIAN [Reads] 'By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the
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world shall know it: though you have put me into
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darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over
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me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as
|
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your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced
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me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt
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not but to do myself much right, or you much shame.
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Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little
|
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unthought of and speak out of my injury.
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THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO.'
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OLIVIA Did he write this?
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Clown Ay, madam.
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DUKE ORSINO This savours not much of distraction.
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OLIVIA See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.
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[Exit FABIAN]
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My lord so please you, these things further
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thought on,
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To think me as well a sister as a wife,
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One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you,
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Here at my house and at my proper cost.
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DUKE ORSINO Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.
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[To VIOLA]
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Your master quits you; and for your service done him,
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So much against the mettle of your sex,
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So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,
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And since you call'd me master for so long,
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Here is my hand: you shall from this time be
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Your master's mistress.
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OLIVIA A sister! you are she.
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[Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO]
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DUKE ORSINO Is this the madman?
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OLIVIA Ay, my lord, this same.
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How now, Malvolio!
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MALVOLIO Madam, you have done me wrong,
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Notorious wrong.
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OLIVIA Have I, Malvolio? no.
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MALVOLIO Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter.
|
|
You must not now deny it is your hand:
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|
Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase;
|
|
Or say 'tis not your seal, nor your invention:
|
|
You can say none of this: well, grant it then
|
|
And tell me, in the modesty of honour,
|
|
Why you have given me such clear lights of favour,
|
|
Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you,
|
|
To put on yellow stockings and to frown
|
|
Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people;
|
|
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
|
|
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
|
|
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
|
|
And made the most notorious geck and gull
|
|
That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why.
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|
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|
OLIVIA Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
|
|
Though, I confess, much like the character
|
|
But out of question 'tis Maria's hand.
|
|
And now I do bethink me, it was she
|
|
First told me thou wast mad; then camest in smiling,
|
|
And in such forms which here were presupposed
|
|
Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content:
|
|
This practise hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee;
|
|
But when we know the grounds and authors of it,
|
|
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
|
|
Of thine own cause.
|
|
|
|
FABIAN Good madam, hear me speak,
|
|
And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come
|
|
Taint the condition of this present hour,
|
|
Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not,
|
|
Most freely I confess, myself and Toby
|
|
Set this device against Malvolio here,
|
|
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
|
|
We had conceived against him: Maria writ
|
|
The letter at Sir Toby's great importance;
|
|
In recompense whereof he hath married her.
|
|
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd,
|
|
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge;
|
|
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd
|
|
That have on both sides pass'd.
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!
|
|
|
|
Clown Why, 'some are born great, some achieve greatness,
|
|
and some have greatness thrown upon them.' I was
|
|
one, sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, sir; but
|
|
that's all one. 'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad.'
|
|
But do you remember? 'Madam, why laugh you at such
|
|
a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagged:'
|
|
and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
|
|
|
|
MALVOLIO I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
|
|
|
OLIVIA He hath been most notoriously abused.
|
|
|
|
DUKE ORSINO Pursue him and entreat him to a peace:
|
|
He hath not told us of the captain yet:
|
|
When that is known and golden time convents,
|
|
A solemn combination shall be made
|
|
Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister,
|
|
We will not part from hence. Cesario, come;
|
|
For so you shall be, while you are a man;
|
|
But when in other habits you are seen,
|
|
Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen.
|
|
|
|
[Exeunt all, except Clown]
|
|
|
|
Clown [Sings]
|
|
|
|
When that I was and a little tiny boy,
|
|
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
|
|
A foolish thing was but a toy,
|
|
For the rain it raineth every day.
|
|
|
|
But when I came to man's estate,
|
|
With hey, ho, &c.
|
|
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
|
|
For the rain, &c.
|
|
|
|
But when I came, alas! to wive,
|
|
With hey, ho, &c.
|
|
By swaggering could I never thrive,
|
|
For the rain, &c.
|
|
|
|
But when I came unto my beds,
|
|
With hey, ho, &c.
|
|
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
|
|
For the rain, &c.
|
|
|
|
A great while ago the world begun,
|
|
With hey, ho, &c.
|
|
But that's all one, our play is done,
|
|
And we'll strive to please you every day.
|
|
|
|
[Exit]
|