TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. SCENE 1.-A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Enter DUKE, CURIO, Lords; Musicians attending. O! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity 10 Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute : so full of shapes is fancy, That it alone is high fantastical. Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ? Duke. What, Curio? Cur. The hart. Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have. O! when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence. That instant was I turn'd into a hart And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me. Enter VALENTINE. 20 How now! what news from her? Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted; Duke. O! she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of love but to a brother, fill'd But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view: I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves And water once a day her chamber round But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, So long as I could see. Vio. For saying so there's gold. With eye-offending brine: all this to season And lasting in her sad remembrance. A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh Whereto thy speech serves for authority, Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, In the protection of his son, her brother, Vio. Mar. He hath indeed, almost natural; for besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave. Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. 39 Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece. I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in O! that I serv'd that lady, 40 my throat and drink in Illyria. He's a coward And might not be deliver'd to the world, Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is. Cap. That were hard to compass, 50 Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; 60 Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. Vio. I thank thee lead me on. Exeunt. SCENE III.-A Room in OLIVIA'S House. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. 9 Sir To. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am. These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer. Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek? Sir To. He's as tall a man as any 's in Illyria. and a coystril that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface. Enter Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch! Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. Sir To. My niece's chambermaid. 50 Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, sir. Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost, - her, board her, woo her, assail her. Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless he hath known you but three days, and already you see canary put me down. Methinks some. times I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit. 92 Sir To. No question. Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear kuight? Sir And. What is 'pourquoi'? do or not do ? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. 0! had I but followed the arts. of hair. 100 Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does 't not? Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flaxon a distaff, and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off. 110 Sir And. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me. count himself here hard by woos her. The Sir To. She'll none o' the count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in 't, man. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight? 123 Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters: and yet I will not compare with an old man. Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper. Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to 't. 130 Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid ? you are no stranger. Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me. Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants. 10 Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? Be not denied access, stand at her doors, Vio. Sure, my noble lord, 20 If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow Duke. O! then unfold the passion of my love; Vio. I think not so, my lord. 30 For they shall yet belie thy happy years For this affair. Some four or five attend him; wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em? Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. To woo your lady: Aside. Yet, a barful strife! are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig: I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. 40 Exeunt. SCENE V.- A Room in OLIVIA'S House. Enter MARIA and Clown. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast bristle may enter in way of thy excuse. My been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a lady will hang thee for thy absence. in this world needs to fear no colours. Clo. He shall see none to fear. where that saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.' 11 Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have talents. it; and those that are fools, let them use their Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so S Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself: if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing 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 simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. 60 Lady, cucullus non facit monachum: that's as much to Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. Exit MALVOLIO. 120 Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with brains! for here he comes, one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he say as I wear not motley in my brain. Good at the gate, cousin? madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it? Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna. Oli. Make your proof. Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna: good my mouse of virtue, answer me. Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof. Clo. Good madonna, why mournest thou? 71 Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend? 80 Mal. Yes; and shall do till the pangs of death shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby Sir To. A gentleman. 139 Oli. A gentleman! What gentleman? these pickle-herring! How now, sot! Clo. Good Sir Toby! Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate. Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. 140 Exit. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool! Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him, and a third drowns bim. Oli. Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drowned: go, look after him. Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. Exit. Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. 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. Oli. Tell him he shall not speak with me. Mal. Ha's 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. Oli. What kind o' man is he? Mal. Why, of mankind. Oli. What manner of man? 162 Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may Exit. be said of it. Where lies your text? Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. Enter VIOLA and Attendants. 181 Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will? Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty, I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast 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. 191 Oli. Whence came you, sir? Vio. 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. Oli. Are you a comedian ? Vio. 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 ? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. 200 Vio. 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. Oli. Come to what is important in 't: I forgive you the praise. Vio. Alas! I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. 210 Oli. 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 Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Oli. "Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. 261 Vio. "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. Oli. 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? 270 Vio. 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 recompens'd, though you were crown'd |