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Ot. Why, what would you ? Yio. 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; Holla your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air | Cry out, Olivia! 0, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me. oli. You might do much: What is your parentage? vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman. o/s. 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. Vio. 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 fervour, like my master’s, be Plac’d in contempt o, fair cruelty. [Exit. Oli. What is your parentage 7 Abovo 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 last :-soo Jnless the master were the man.—How now t [soft' 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 !—
Ant. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not, that I go with you t Seb. 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. Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. Seb. 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 or 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. A nt. Alas, the day ! Seh. 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, over-far 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 le, remembrance again with more. Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. 0, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.
Seb. 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. [ Erit.
Ant. 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.
sCENE II. A Street.
Enter Viola; Malvolio following.
Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia *
Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.
Maz. She returns this of 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.
Vio. She took the ring of me : I’ll none of it.
Mał. 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.
Vio. I left no ring with her : what means this lady! Fortune forbid, my outside haye 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 diotractedly. 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 1 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 dearby ; 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 breathet 0 time, thou must untangle this, not I; It is too hard a knot for me to untie.
breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has:
Enter Malvolio. Mal. My masters, are you mad : or what are you ? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night t Do ye make an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you ? sir To. W. did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up ! Mal. 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 net, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. aal. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done. Mal. Is’t even so t sir To. But I trill never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. Sir To. Shall I bid him go? Clo. What an if you do? Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not 1 Clo. 0, no, no, no, no, you dare not.
Sir To. Out o'time? sir, ye lie.—Art any more than a steward Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no madre cakes and ale Clo. Yes, by saint Anne ; and ginger shall be hot i’the mouth too. Sir To, Thou'rt i'the right.-Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs:–a stoop of wine, Maria : Mal. 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. Mar, Go shake your ears. Sir And. "Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Sir To. Do’t, knight; I’ll write thee a challenge; or I’ll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my 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 Iny bed : I know I can do it. Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And, O, if I thought that, I’d beat him like a dog. Sir To. what, for being a Puritant thy exquisite reason, dear knight ! Sir And, I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything 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 ground 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 To. What witt thou do? Mar. 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 To. Excellent " I smell a device. Sir And. I have’t in my nose too. Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him.
Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And your horse now would make him an ass.
Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Sir Ant. O, "twill be admirable. Mar. 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. Farewels. [Exit. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea. Sir And. Before me, she’s a good wench. Sir To. She's a heagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: What o'that Sir And. I was adored onee too. sir To. Let's to bed, knight.—Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am afoul way out. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not it the end, call me Cut. Sir And, if i do not, never trust ine, take it how you will. Sir To. Come, come; I’ll go burm some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now : come, knight; come, knight. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. Duke. 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:–
Duke. There’s for thy pains. Clo, No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Duke. I’il pay thy pleasure then: Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Clo. 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. Puke. Let all the rest give place. [Exeunt Curio and Attendants. Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon’ 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,
Vio. But if she cannot love you, sir?
Duke. I cannot be so answer’d.
yio. ’Sooth, but you must.
Duke. There is no woman’s sides,
Vio. Ay, but I know,
Duke. What dost thou know f
Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe : In faith they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter lov’d a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship.
Duke. And what’s her history !
Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pin’d in thought; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, 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. But died thy sister of her love, my boy t
Vio. 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. Ay, that’s the theme. To her in haste; give her this jewel ; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay. [Exeunt.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian. Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, I’ll come; if i lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir To. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? Fab. I would exult, man: you know he brought . out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting ere. Sir To...To anger him, we’ll have the bear again ; and we will fool him black and blue :-Shall we not, sir Andrew Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. Enter Maria. Sir To. Here comes the little villain :-How now, my mettle of India TMar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk; he hath been yonder i'the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour; observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting [The Men hide themselves.) Lie thou there; [Throors down a Letter. J for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. C Exit. Enter Malvolio. Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me, she did affect me : and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. What should I think on’t 2 Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue ! Fab. O, peace | Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him ; how he jets under his advanced plumes Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue:– Sir To. Peace, I say. Mal. to be count Malvolio – sir To. Ah, rogue Sir And. Fo him, pistol him. Sir To. Peace, peace!
Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel 'ab. O, peace now he's deepiy in ; look how imagination blows him Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state, Sir To. 0, for a stone-bow to hit him in the eve Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown ; having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping. Sir To. Fire and brimstone Fab. O, peace, peace Mal. And then to have the humour of state : and after a demure travel of regard, telling them, I know my place, as I would they should do theirs—to ask for my kinsman Toby : sir To. Bolts and shackles Fab. O, peace, peace, peace now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him : I frown the while ; and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me: Sir To. Shall this fellow live t Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quelching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control : Sir To. And does not 'Toby take you a blow o'the lips them t Mat. Saving, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech — Sir To. What, what Mal. You must amend your drunkenness. Sir To. Out, scab Fab, Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight ; Sir Anu. That's me, I warrant you. Mal. One Sir Andrew: : Sir Anu. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me fool. Mal. What employment have we here t [Taking up the Letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. O, peace and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him : Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand : these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's : and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's : why that? Mal. Roads. To the unknown beloved, this, and my good irishes : her very phrases 1–By your leave, wax.-Soft —and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal ; 'tis my lady : To whom should this be 'ab. This wins him, liver and all. Mal. LReads] Jove knott's, I love : but who " Lips do not mote, No man must know. No man must know.—What follows the numbers altered – No man must know.—it this should be thee, Malvolio ! Sir To. Marry, hang thee, broek . Mal. I may command, where I adore : But silence, like a Lucreca knife, With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; M, Q, A., I, doth sway my life. Fab. A fustian riddle Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. Mal. M, Q, A., I, doth sway my life.-Nay, but first, let me see, let me see, set me see. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him Sir To. And with what wing the stanayel checks at it ! Mal. I may command rhere I adore. Why, she may command me , I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstruction in this; - And the end,-What should that alphabetical position portend if I could make that resemble something in me, Softly M, O, A, 1.Sir To. 0, ay! make up that : he is now at a cold scent. Fah. Sowter will cry upon’t, for all this, though it be as rank as a took Mral. M.–Malvolio;-M,-why, that begins my nature.
Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out t the cur is excellent at faults. Mal. M.–But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. Fab. And O shall end, I hope. Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, 0. Mal. And then I comes behind. Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before wou. Mal. M. 0, A, I;-This simulation is not as the former: and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft here follows prose.- If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness : . Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Thy sates open their hanus; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to in ure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a 4 insman, surly orith servants : let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity : so thus advises thre, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellor stoclings; and u ished to see thee ever cross-gartered : I say, remember. Go to : thou art made in thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a stetrard still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune’s fingers. Farewell. she, that would alter services with thee, The fortunate-unhappy. Day-light and champian discovers not more : this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic anthors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice, the very man. I do not now foo' myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered ; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Joye, and my stars be praised 1–Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my fore, let it appear in thy smiling , thy smiles, become thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr’othee. Jove, I thank thee;—I will smile ; I will do every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit. Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. Sir And. So could I too. Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest. Enter Maria. Sir And. Nor I neither. Fab, Here comes my noble gull-catcher. ..Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o'my neck t Sir Ana. Or o' mine either Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond slave : Sir And. I'faith, or I either? Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him Sir To. Like aqua-vitae with a midwife. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady : he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors ; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will simile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt : if you will see it, follow me. Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit Sir And. I’ll make one too.
ACT iii. scene i. olivia's Garden. Enter Viola, and Clown with Tabor.
Vio, Save thee, friend, and thy music: Dost thou live by thy tabor *
Clo. No, Sir, I live by the church. Vio. Art thou a churchman : Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church. Vio. So thou may’st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stands by the church. Clo. You have said, sir.—To see this age l—A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit: How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward! wio. Nay, that’s certain; they that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton. Clo, I would therefore, my sister had had no name, sir. Vio. Why, man? . Clo. Why, sir, her name’s a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton : But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them. Vio. Thy reason, man? Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them. Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing. Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you ; if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool? Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no foo!, sir, till she be married ; and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger: I am, indeed, not her tool, but her corrupter of words. Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where... I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress . I think, I saw your wisdom there. Vio. Nay, anthon pass upon me, I’ll no more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee. Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard : Vio. By my troth, I’ll tell thee; I am almost sick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? Wio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. glo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg’d. Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but, a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir, i will construe to them whence you come: who are you, and what you would, are out of my welkin : I might say, element; but the word is ower-worn. C Exit. Vio. This fellow’s wise enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a wise man’s art: For folly, that he wisely shows, is tit; But wise men, folly-falsen, quite taint their wit. Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Sir To. Save you, gentleman. Vio. And you, sir. Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Yio. Et, vous aussi: votre serviteur. Sir And: I hope, sir, you are ; and I am yours. , Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Woo. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the list of my voyage. Sir To: Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I Found o you mean by bidding me taste my egs. Sir To. I mean to go, sir, to enter. Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance: But we are prevented. Enter Olivia and Maria. Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you ! i. And, That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours! weii.
Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your
Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir Andrew.