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Twelfth Night

 ORSINO	Duke of Illyria. (DUKE ORSINO:)
 SEBASTIAN	brother to Viola.
 ANTONIO	a sea captain, friend to Sebastian.
 	A Sea Captain, friend to Viola. (Captain:)
 	|  gentlemen attending on the Duke.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	uncle to Olivia.
 MALVOLIO	steward to Olivia.
 		|  servants to Olivia.
 FESTE	a Clown  (Clown:)	|
 MARIA	Olivia's woman.
 	Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians,
 	and other Attendants.
 	(First Officer:)
 	(Second Officer:)
 SCENE	A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it.
 	[Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords;
 	Musicians attending]
 DUKE ORSINO	If music be the food of love, play on;
 	Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
 	The appetite may sicken, and so die.
 	That strain again! it had a dying fall:
 	O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
 	That breathes upon a bank of violets,
 	Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
 	'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
 	O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
 	That, notwithstanding thy capacity
 	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.
 CURIO	Will you go hunt, my lord?
 DUKE ORSINO	What, Curio?
 CURIO	The hart.
 DUKE ORSINO	        Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
 	O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
 	Methought she purged 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.
 		How now! what news from her?
 VALENTINE	So please my lord, I might not be admitted;
 	But from her handmaid do return this answer:
 	The element itself, till seven years' heat,
 	Shall not behold her face at ample view;
 	But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
 	And water once a day her chamber round
 	With eye-offending brine: all this to season
 	A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
 	And lasting in her sad remembrance.
 DUKE ORSINO	O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
 	To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
 	How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
 	Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
 	That live in her; when liver, brain and heart,
 	These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
 	Her sweet perfections with one self king!
 	Away before me to sweet beds of flowers:
 	Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
 SCENE II	The sea-coast.
 	[Enter VIOLA, a Captain, and Sailors]
 VIOLA	What country, friends, is this?
 Captain	This is Illyria, lady.
 VIOLA	And what should I do in Illyria?
 	My brother he is in Elysium.
 	Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?
 Captain	It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
 VIOLA	O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.
 Captain	True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
 	Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
 	When you and those poor number saved with you
 	Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
 	Most provident in peril, bind himself,
 	Courage and hope both teaching him the practise,
 	To a strong mast that lived upon the sea;
 	Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
 	I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
 	So long as I could see.
 VIOLA	For saying so, there's gold:
 	Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
 	Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
 	The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
 Captain	Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
 	Not three hours' travel from this very place.
 VIOLA	Who governs here?
 Captain	A noble duke, in nature as in name.
 VIOLA	What is the name?
 Captain	Orsino.
 VIOLA	Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
 	He was a bachelor then.
 Captain	And so is now, or was so very late;
 	For but a month ago I went from hence,
 	And then 'twas fresh in murmur,--as, you know,
 	What great ones do the less will prattle of,--
 	That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
 VIOLA	What's she?
 Captain	A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
 	That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
 	In the protection of his son, her brother,
 	Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
 	They say, she hath abjured the company
 	And sight of men.
 VIOLA	                  O that I served that lady
 	And might not be delivered to the world,
 	Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
 	What my estate is!
 Captain	That were hard to compass;
 	Because she will admit no kind of suit,
 	No, not the duke's.
 VIOLA	There is a fair behavior in thee, captain;
 	And though that nature with a beauteous wall
 	Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
 	I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
 	With this thy fair and outward character.
 	I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
 	Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
 	For such disguise as haply shall become
 	The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
 	Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him:
 	It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing
 	And speak to him in many sorts of music
 	That will allow me very worth his service.
 	What else may hap to time I will commit;
 	Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
 Captain	Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
 	When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
 VIOLA	I thank thee: lead me on.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
 	her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
 MARIA	By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'
 	nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great
 	exceptions to your ill hours.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Why, let her except, before excepted.
 MARIA	Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
 	limits of order.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	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.
 MARIA	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 TOBY BELCH	Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
 MARIA	Ay, he.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
 MARIA	What's that to the purpose?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
 MARIA	Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
 	he's a very fool and a prodigal.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
 	viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
 	word for word without book, and hath all the good
 	gifts of nature.
 MARIA	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 TOBY BELCH	By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
 	that say so of him. Who are they?
 MARIA	They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to
 	her as long as there is a passage in my throat and
 	drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill
 	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]
 SIR ANDREW	Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Sweet Sir Andrew!
 SIR ANDREW	Bless you, fair shrew.
 MARIA	And you too, sir.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
 SIR ANDREW	What's that?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	My niece's chambermaid.
 SIR ANDREW	Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
 MARIA	My name is Mary, sir.
 SIR ANDREW	Good Mistress Mary Accost,--
 SIR TOBY BELCH	You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
 	her, woo her, assail her.
 SIR ANDREW	By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
 	company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'?
 MARIA	Fare you well, gentlemen.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
 	never draw sword again.
 SIR ANDREW	An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
 	draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have
 	fools in hand?
 MARIA	Sir, I have not you by the hand.
 SIR ANDREW	Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
 MARIA	Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
 	your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.
 SIR ANDREW	Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?
 MARIA	It's dry, sir.
 SIR ANDREW	Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
 	keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?
 MARIA	A dry jest, sir.
 SIR ANDREW	Are you full of them?
 MARIA	Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
 	now I let go your hand, I am barren.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I
 	see thee so put down?
 SIR ANDREW	Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary
 	put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit
 	than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a
 	great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	No question.
 SIR ANDREW	An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
 	to-morrow, Sir Toby.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Pourquoi, my dear knight?
 SIR ANDREW	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: O, had I but
 	followed the arts!
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
 SIR ANDREW	Why, would that have mended my hair?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
 SIR ANDREW	But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
 	hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
 	and spin it off.
 SIR ANDREW	Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece
 	will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one
 	she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
 	her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I
 	have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,
 SIR ANDREW	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 TOBY BELCH	Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
 SIR ANDREW	As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
 	degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
 	with an old man.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
 SIR ANDREW	Faith, I can cut a caper.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	And I can cut the mutton to't.
 SIR ANDREW	And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
 	as any man in Illyria.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have
 	these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to
 	take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost
 	thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in
 	a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
 	so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
 	dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?
 	I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
 	leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.
 SIR ANDREW	Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
 	flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?
 SIR ANDREW	Taurus! That's sides and heart.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
 	caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!
 	[Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire]
 VALENTINE	If the duke continue these favours towards you,
 	Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath
 	known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
 VIOLA	You either fear his humour or my negligence, that
 	you call in question the continuance of his love:
 	is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
 VALENTINE	No, believe me.
 VIOLA	I thank you. Here comes the count.
 	[Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and Attendants]
 DUKE ORSINO	Who saw Cesario, ho?
 VIOLA	On your attendance, my lord; here.
 DUKE ORSINO	Stand you a while aloof, Cesario,
 	Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
 	To thee the book even of my secret soul:
 	Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
 	Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
 	And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
 	Till thou have audience.
 VIOLA	Sure, my noble lord,
 	If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
 	As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
 DUKE ORSINO	Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds
 	Rather than make unprofited return.
 VIOLA	Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
 DUKE ORSINO	O, then unfold the passion of my love,
 	Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
 	It shall become thee well to act my woes;
 	She will attend it better in thy youth
 	Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.
 VIOLA	I think not so, my lord.
 DUKE ORSINO	Dear lad, believe it;
 	For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
 	That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
 	Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
 	Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
 	And all is semblative a woman's part.
 	I know thy constellation is right apt
 	For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
 	All, if you will; for I myself am best
 	When least in company. Prosper well in this,
 	And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
 	To call his fortunes thine.
 VIOLA	I'll do my best
 	To woo your lady:
 	yet, a barful strife!
 	Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
 	[Enter MARIA and Clown]
 MARIA	Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will
 	not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in
 	way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.
 Clown	Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
 	world needs to fear no colours.
 MARIA	Make that good.
 Clown	He shall see none to fear.
 MARIA	A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that
 	saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.'
 Clown	Where, good Mistress Mary?
 MARIA	In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
 Clown	Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those
 	that are fools, let them use their talents.
 MARIA	Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or,
 	to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?
 Clown	Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and,
 	for turning away, let summer bear it out.
 MARIA	You are resolute, then?
 Clown	Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.
 MARIA	That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both
 	break, your gaskins fall.
 Clown	Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if
 	Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
 	piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.
 MARIA	Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my
 	lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
 Clown	Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!
 	Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft
 	prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may
 	pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus?
 	'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'
 	[Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO]
 	God bless thee, lady!
 OLIVIA	Take the fool away.
 Clown	Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
 OLIVIA	Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
 	besides, you grow dishonest.
 Clown	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.
 OLIVIA	Sir, I bade them take away you.
 Clown	Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non
 	facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not
 	motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to
 	prove you a fool.
 OLIVIA	Can you do it?
 Clown	Dexterously, good madonna.
 OLIVIA	Make your proof.
 Clown	I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse
 	of virtue, answer me.
 OLIVIA	Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.
 Clown	Good madonna, why mournest thou?
 OLIVIA	Good fool, for my brother's death.
 Clown	I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
 OLIVIA	I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
 Clown	The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's
 	soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
 OLIVIA	What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?
 MALVOLIO	Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him:
 	infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the
 	better fool.
 Clown	God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the
 	better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be
 	sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his
 	word for two pence that you are no fool.
 OLIVIA	How say you to that, Malvolio?
 MALVOLIO	I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
 	barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day
 	with an ordinary fool that has no more brain
 	than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard
 	already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to
 	him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men,
 	that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better
 	than the fools' zanies.
 OLIVIA	Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
 	with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
 	guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those
 	things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets:
 	there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do
 	nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
 	man, though he do nothing but reprove.
 Clown	Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou
 	speakest well of fools!
 	[Re-enter MARIA]
 MARIA	Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much
 	desires to speak with you.
 OLIVIA	From the Count Orsino, is it?
 MARIA	I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.
 OLIVIA	Who of my people hold him in delay?
 MARIA	Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
 OLIVIA	Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but
 	madman: fie on him!
 	[Exit MARIA]
 	Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I
 	am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.
 	Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and
 	people dislike it.
 Clown	Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest
 	son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with
 	brains! for,--here he comes,--one of thy kin has a
 	most weak pia mater.
 OLIVIA	By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	A gentleman.
 OLIVIA	A gentleman! what gentleman?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these
 	pickle-herring! How now, sot!
 Clown	Good Sir Toby!
 OLIVIA	Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.
 OLIVIA	Ay, marry, what is he?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
 	me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.
 OLIVIA	What's a drunken man like, fool?
 Clown	Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one
 	draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads
 	him; and a third drowns him.
 OLIVIA	Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my
 	coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's
 	drowned: go, look after him.
 Clown	He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look
 	to the madman.
 	[Re-enter MALVOLIO]
 MALVOLIO	Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
 	you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to
 	understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
 	with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to
 	have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
 	comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him,
 	lady? he's fortified against any denial.
 OLIVIA	Tell him he shall not speak with me.
 MALVOLIO	Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your
 	door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to
 	a bench, but he'll speak with you.
 OLIVIA	What kind o' man is he?
 MALVOLIO	Why, of mankind.
 OLIVIA	What manner of man?
 MALVOLIO	Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no.
 OLIVIA	Of what personage and years is he?
 MALVOLIO	Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for
 	a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
 	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.
 OLIVIA	Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
 MALVOLIO	Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
 	[Re-enter MARIA]
 OLIVIA	Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
 	We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
 	[Enter VIOLA, and Attendants]
 VIOLA	The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
 OLIVIA	Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
 	Your will?
 VIOLA	Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,--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.
 OLIVIA	Whence came you, sir?
 VIOLA	I can say little more than I have studied, and that
 	question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me
 	modest assurance if you be the lady of the house,
 	that I may proceed in my speech.
 OLIVIA	Are you a comedian?
 VIOLA	No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs
 	of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you
 	the lady of the house?
 OLIVIA	If I do not usurp myself, I am.
 VIOLA	Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
 	yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
 	to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
 	on with my speech in your praise, and then show you
 	the heart of my message.
 OLIVIA	Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.
 VIOLA	Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
 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.
 MARIA	Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.
 VIOLA	No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little
 	longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet
 	lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger.
 OLIVIA	Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when
 	the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
 VIOLA	It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
 	war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
 	hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.
 OLIVIA	Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?
 VIOLA	The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
 	learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
 	would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears,
 	divinity, to any other's, profanation.
 OLIVIA	Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
 	[Exeunt MARIA and Attendants]
 	Now, sir, what is your text?
 VIOLA	Most sweet lady,--
 OLIVIA	A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.
 	Where lies your text?
 VIOLA	In Orsino's bosom.
 OLIVIA	In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?
 VIOLA	To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
 OLIVIA	O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
 VIOLA	Good madam, let me see your face.
 OLIVIA	Have you any commission from your lord to 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?
 VIOLA	Excellently done, if God did all.
 OLIVIA	'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
 VIOLA	'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
 	Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
 	Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
 	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?
 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.
 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.
 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.
 SCENE I	The sea-coast.
 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.
 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.
 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.
 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!
 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!
 	'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.
 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.
 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.
 	[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.
 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.
 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.
 SCENE V	OLIVIA's garden.
 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]
 	How now, my metal of India!
 MARIA	Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's
 	coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the
 	sun practising behavior 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! Lie thou there,
 	[Throws down a letter]
 	for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.
 	[Enter MALVOLIO]
 MALVOLIO	'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
 	me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come
 	thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one
 	of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more
 	exalted respect than any one else that follows her.
 	What should I think on't?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Here's an overweening rogue!
 FABIAN	O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock
 	of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
 SIR ANDREW	'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Peace, I say.
 MALVOLIO	To be Count Malvolio!
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Ah, rogue!
 SIR ANDREW	Pistol him, pistol him.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Peace, peace!
 MALVOLIO	There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy
 	married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
 SIR ANDREW	Fie on him, Jezebel!
 FABIAN	O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how
 	imagination blows him.
 MALVOLIO	Having been three months married to her, sitting in
 	my state,--
 SIR TOBY BELCH	O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
 MALVOLIO	Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet
 	gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left
 	Olivia sleeping,--
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Fire and brimstone!
 FABIAN	O, peace, peace!
 MALVOLIO	And then to have the humour of state; and after a
 	demure travel of regard, telling them I know my
 	place as I would they should do theirs, to for my
 	kinsman Toby,--
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Bolts and shackles!
 FABIAN	O peace, peace, peace! now, now.
 MALVOLIO	Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make
 	out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind
 	up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby
 	approaches; courtesies there to me,--
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Shall this fellow live?
 FABIAN	Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.
 MALVOLIO	I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar
 	smile with an austere regard of control,--
 SIR TOBY BELCH	And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?
 MALVOLIO	Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on
 	your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'--
 SIR TOBY BELCH	What, what?
 MALVOLIO	'You must amend your drunkenness.'
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Out, scab!
 FABIAN	Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
 MALVOLIO	'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with
 	a foolish knight,'--
 SIR ANDREW	That's me, I warrant you.
 MALVOLIO	'One Sir Andrew,'--
 SIR ANDREW	I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.
 MALVOLIO	What employment have we here?
 	[Taking up the letter]
 FABIAN	Now is the woodcock near the gin.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading
 	aloud to him!
 MALVOLIO	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 ANDREW	Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that?
 MALVOLIO	[Reads]  'To the unknown beloved, this, and my good
 	wishes:'--her very phrases! By your leave, wax.
 	Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she
 	uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?
 FABIAN	This wins him, liver and all.
 	Jove knows I love: But who?
 	Lips, do not move;
 	No man must know.
 	'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers
 	altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be
 	thee, Malvolio?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Marry, hang thee, brock!
 	I may command where I adore;
 	But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
 	With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:
 	M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
 FABIAN	A fustian riddle!
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Excellent wench, say I.
 MALVOLIO	'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let
 	me see, let me see, let me see.
 FABIAN	What dish o' poison has she dressed him!
 SIR TOBY BELCH	And with what wing the staniel cheques at it!
 MALVOLIO	'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command
 	me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is
 	evident to any formal capacity; there is no
 	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,
 SIR TOBY BELCH	O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent.
 FABIAN	Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as
 	rank as a fox.
 MALVOLIO	M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name.
 FABIAN	Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is
 	excellent at faults.
 MALVOLIO	M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel;
 	that suffers under probation A should follow but O does.
 FABIAN	And O shall end, I hope.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!
 MALVOLIO	And then I comes behind.
 FABIAN	Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see
 	more detraction at your heels than fortunes before
 MALVOLIO	M, O, 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 'em. Thy Fates open
 	their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them;
 	and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be,
 	cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be
 	opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let
 	thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into
 	the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee
 	that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy
 	yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever
 	cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art
 	made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see
 	thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and
 	not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell.
 	She that would alter services with thee,
 	Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is
 	open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors,
 	I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross
 	acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man.
 	I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade
 	me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady
 	loves me. She 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. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
 	'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
 	entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling;
 	thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my
 	presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.'
 	Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do
 	everything that thou wilt have me.
 FABIAN	I will not give my part of this sport for a pension
 	of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	I could marry this wench for this device.
 SIR ANDREW	So could I too.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.
 SIR ANDREW	Nor I neither.
 FABIAN	Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
 	[Re-enter MARIA]
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
 SIR ANDREW	Or o' mine either?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy
 SIR ANDREW	I' faith, or I either?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when
 	the image of it leaves him he must run mad.
 MARIA	Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.
 MARIA	If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark
 	his first approach before my lady: he will come to
 	her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she
 	abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;
 	and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
 	unsuitable to her 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
 SIR TOBY BELCH	To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!
 SIR ANDREW	I'll make one too.
 SCENE I	OLIVIA's garden.
 	[Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabour]
 VIOLA	Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
 	thy tabour?
 Clown	No, sir, I live by the church.
 VIOLA	Art thou a churchman?
 Clown	No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for
 	I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by
 	the church.
 VIOLA	So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a
 	beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy
 	tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.
 Clown	You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is
 	but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the
 	wrong side may be turned outward!
 VIOLA	Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with
 	words may quickly make them wanton.
 Clown	I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
 VIOLA	Why, man?
 Clown	Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that
 	word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words
 	are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.
 VIOLA	Thy reason, man?
 Clown	Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and
 	words are grown so false, I am loath to prove
 	reason with them.
 VIOLA	I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.
 Clown	Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my
 	conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be
 	to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
 VIOLA	Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?
 Clown	No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she
 	will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and
 	fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to
 	herrings; the husband's the bigger: I am indeed not
 	her fool, but her corrupter of words.
 VIOLA	I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.
 Clown	Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun,
 	it shines 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.
 VIOLA	Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
 	Hold, there's expenses for thee.
 Clown	Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!
 VIOLA	By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for
 	though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy
 	lady within?
 Clown	Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
 VIOLA	Yes, being kept together and put to use.
 Clown	I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring
 	a Cressida to this Troilus.
 VIOLA	I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.
 Clown	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 you are and what you would are out of my
 	welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn.
 VIOLA	This fellow is 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, cheque at every feather
 	That comes before his eye. This is a practise
 	As full of labour as a wise man's art
 	For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
 	But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Save you, gentleman.
 VIOLA	And you, sir.
 SIR ANDREW	Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
 VIOLA	Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
 SIR ANDREW	I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous
 	you should enter, if your trade be to her.
 VIOLA	I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
 	list of my voyage.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.
 VIOLA	My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
 	understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
 SIR TOBY BELCH	I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
 VIOLA	I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we
 	are prevented.
 	[Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]
 	Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
 	odours on you!
 SIR ANDREW	That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well.
 VIOLA	My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant
 	and vouchsafed ear.
 SIR ANDREW	'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em
 	all three all ready.
 OLIVIA	Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
 	Give me your hand, sir.
 VIOLA	My duty, madam, and most humble service.
 OLIVIA	What is your name?
 VIOLA	Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
 OLIVIA	My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world
 	Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
 	You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
 VIOLA	And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
 	Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
 OLIVIA	For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
 	Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
 VIOLA	Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
 	On his behalf.
 OLIVIA	                  O, by your leave, I pray you,
 	I bade you never speak again of him:
 	But, would you undertake another suit,
 	I had rather hear you to solicit that
 	Than music from the spheres.
 VIOLA	Dear lady,--
 OLIVIA	Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
 	After the last enchantment you did here,
 	A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
 	Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you:
 	Under your hard construction must I sit,
 	To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
 	Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?
 	Have you not set mine honour at the stake
 	And baited it with all 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.
 VIOLA	I pity you.
 OLIVIA	          That's a degree to love.
 VIOLA	No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
 	That very oft we pity enemies.
 OLIVIA	Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.
 	O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
 	If one should be a prey, how much the better
 	To fall before the lion than the wolf!
 	[Clock strikes]
 	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.
 VIOLA	Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
 	Attend your ladyship!
 	You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
 	I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.
 VIOLA	That you do think you are not what you are.
 OLIVIA	If I think so, I think the same of you.
 VIOLA	Then think you right: I am not what I am.
 OLIVIA	I would you were as I would have you be!
 VIOLA	Would it be better, madam, than I am?
 	I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
 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.
 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
 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.
 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.
 SCENE III	A street.
 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.
 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,'--
 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
 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?
 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.
 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.
 	'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,'--
 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.
 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.
 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.
 	[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.
 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
 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.
 	[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.
 	Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.
 	[Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA]
 	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.
 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.
 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.
 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.
 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!
 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!
 	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!
 	[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.
 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.
 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
 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.
 Clown	[Singing]
 	'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
 	Tell me how thy lady does.'
 Clown	'My lady is unkind, perdy.'
 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.
 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!
 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.
 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.
 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.
 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.
 DUKE ORSINO	Be not amazed; right noble is his blood.
 	If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
 	I shall have share in this most happy wreck.
 	[To VIOLA]
 	Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times
 	Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
 VIOLA	And all those sayings will I overswear;
 	And those swearings keep as true in soul
 	As doth that orbed continent the fire
 	That severs day from night.
 DUKE ORSINO	Give me thy hand;
 	And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
 VIOLA	The captain that did bring me first on shore
 	Hath my maid's garments: he upon some action
 	Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit,
 	A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.
 OLIVIA	He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio hither:
 	And yet, alas, now I remember me,
 	They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.
 	[Re-enter Clown with a letter, and FABIAN]
 	A most extracting frenzy of mine own
 	From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.
 	How does he, sirrah?
 Clown	Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the staves's end as
 	well as a man in his case may do: has here writ a
 	letter to you; I should have given't you to-day
 	morning, but as a madman's epistles are no gospels,
 	so it skills not much when they are delivered.
 OLIVIA	Open't, and read it.
 Clown	Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers
 	the madman.
 	'By the Lord, madam,'--
 OLIVIA	How now! art thou mad?
 Clown	No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship
 	will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox.
 OLIVIA	Prithee, read i' thy right wits.
 Clown	So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to
 	read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.
 OLIVIA	Read it you, sirrah.
 FABIAN	[Reads]  'By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the
 	world shall know it: though you have put me into
 	darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over
 	me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as
 	your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced
 	me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt
 	not but to do myself much right, or you much shame.
 	Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little
 	unthought of and speak out of my injury.
 OLIVIA	Did he write this?
 Clown	Ay, madam.
 DUKE ORSINO	This savours not much of distraction.
 OLIVIA	See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.
 	[Exit FABIAN]
 	My lord so please you, these things further
 	thought on,
 	To think me as well a sister as a wife,
 	One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you,
 	Here at my house and at my proper cost.
 DUKE ORSINO	Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.
 	[To VIOLA]
 	Your master quits you; and for your service done him,
 	So much against the mettle of your sex,
 	So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,
 	And since you call'd me master for so long,
 	Here is my hand: you shall from this time be
 	Your master's mistress.
 OLIVIA	A sister! you are she.
 	[Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO]
 DUKE ORSINO	Is this the madman?
 OLIVIA	Ay, my lord, this same.
 	How now, Malvolio!
 MALVOLIO	                  Madam, you have done me wrong,
 	Notorious wrong.
 OLIVIA	                  Have I, Malvolio? no.
 MALVOLIO	Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter.
 	You must not now deny it is your hand:
 	Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase;
 	Or say 'tis not your seal, 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.
 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.
 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.

Next: The Winter's Tale