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TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.
ANTONIO, a Sea Captain, Friend to Sebastian.
Gentlemen attending on the Duke.
SIR TOBY BELCH, Uncle to Olivia. SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
VIOLA, in love with the Duke.
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants.
SCENE 1.-A Room in the DUKE'S Palace.
Enter DUKE, CURIO, Lords; Musicians attending.
Duke. 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.
MALVOLIO, Steward to Olivia.
A Sea Captain, Friend to Viola.
But from her handmaid do return this answer :
Duke. O she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
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.
Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.
Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you,
Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd.
Vio. O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.
Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country? 20
Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born Mar. Wbat's that to the purpose ! Not three hours' travel from this very place. Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a V'io. Who governs here?
year. Cap. A noble duke, in nature as in name. Mar. Ay, but he 'll have but a year in all these Vio. What is his name?
ducats : he's a very fool and a prodigal. Cap. Orsino.
Sir To. Fie, that you 'll say so! he plays o' Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him : the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four He was a bachelor then.
languages word for word without book, and Cap. And so is now, or was so very late ; hath all the good gifts of nature. For but a month ago I went from hence,
Mar. He hath indeed, almost natural ; for And then 'twas fresh in murmur, as you know besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; What great ones do the less will prattle of, and but that he hath the gift of a coward to That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought Vio. What's she?
among the prudent he would quickly have the Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count gift of a grave. That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and her
substractors that say so of him. Who are they? In the protection of his son, her brother,
Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk Who shortly also died; for whose dear love, nightly in your company. They say she hath abjur'd the company
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece. And sight of men.
I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in V'io.
0! that I serv'd that lady, 40 my throat and drink in Illyria. He's a coward And might not be deliver'd to the world, and a coystril that will not drink to my niece Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What my estate is.
What, wench! Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Сар.
That were hard to compass, Sir Andrew Agueface. Because she will admit no kind of suit,
Enter Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK. No, not the duke's.
Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain ; Sir And. Sir Toby Belch ! how now, Sir Toby And though that nature with a beauteous wall Belch! Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew ! I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. With this thy fair and outward character.
Mar. And you too, sir. I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
Sir And. What's that? For such disguise as haply shall become
Sir To. My niece's chambermaid. The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke: Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him : acquaintance. It may be worth thy pains ; for I can sing
Mar. My name is Mary, sir. And speak to him in many sorts of music
Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost,That will allow me very worth his service. Sir To. You mistake, knight : .accost' is front What else may hap to time I will commit; her, board her, woo her, assail her. Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: her in this company. Is that the meaning of When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. accost'? V'io. I thank thee : lead me on. Exeunt. Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.
Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would SCENE III.-A Room in OLIVIA's House.
thou might'st never draw sword again!
Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and MARIA.
might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to you think you have fools in hand ? take the death of her brother thus? I am sure Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. care's an enemy to life.
Sir And. Marry, but you shall have ; and Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come here's my hand. in earlier o’nights : your cousin, my lady, takes Mar. Now, sir, thought is free': I pray you, great exceptions to your ill hours.
bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. drink.
Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart ? what's your the modest limits of order.
9 metaphor ? Sir To. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer Mar. It's dry, sir. than I am. These clothes are good enough to Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such an drink in, and so be these boots too : an they be ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what's not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. your jest ?
Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo Mar. A dry jest, sir. you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and Sir And. Are you full of them ? of a foolish knight that you brought in one night Mar. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends : here to be her wooer.
marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
Erit. Mar. Ay, he.
Sir To. O knight! thou lackest a cup of canary: Sir To. He's as tall a man as any 's in Illyria. | when did I see thee so put down ?
Sir And. 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. 92 Sir To. No question.
Sir Andl. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.
Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear knight?
Sir And. What is 'pourquoi? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. 0 had I but followed the arts.
Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head
Sir And. Why,would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
Sir And. But it becomes me well enough,
does 't not?
Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.
Sir And. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby your niece will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one she 'll none of me. The count himself here hard by woos her.
Sir To. She'll none o' the count; she 'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in 't, man.
Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters: and yet I will not compare with an old man.
Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper. Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to 't. Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
he hath known yon but three days, and already you are no stranger.
Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli gence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me.
Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.
Sir To. 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. 142 Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set
about some revels?
Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?
Sir And. Taurus! that's sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper. Ha! higher: ha, ha excellent! Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-A Room in the DUKE'S Palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.
Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced:
Duke. 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 of more grave aspect. Vio. I think not so, my lord. Duke.
Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years
I'll do my best To woo your lady: Aside. Yet, a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
SCENE V.-A Room in OLIVIA'S House.
Mar. 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.
Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good.
Clo. He shall see none to fear.
Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.' Clo. Where, good Mistress Mary?
Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so
long absent ; or, to be turned away, is not that will be sworn that I am no fox, but he will not so good as a hanging to you?
pass his word for two pence that you are no C'lo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad fool. marriage; and for turning away, let summer Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? bear it out.
Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in Mar. You are resolute then ?
such a barren rascal : I saw him put down the Clo. Not so neither ; but I am resolved on two other day with an ordinary fool that has no points.
more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; out of his guard already : unless you laugh and or, if both break, our gaskins fall.
minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I pro. Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt. Well, go test, I take these wise men, that crow so at thy way: if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in zanies. Illyria,
Oli. 0! you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here and taste with a distempered appetite. To be comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to were best.
Ecit. take those things for bird-bolts that you deem Clo. Wit, an 't be thy will, put me into good cannon-bullets. There is no slander in an fooling! Those wits that think they have thee, allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I nor no railing in a known discreet man, though lack thee, may pass for a wise man: for what he do nothing but reprove. says Quinapalus? “Better a witty fool than a Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, foolish wit.'
40 for thou speakest well of fools ! Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO.
Re-enter MARIA. God bless thee, lady!
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young Oli. Take the fool away.
gentleman much desires to speak with you, Clo. Do you not hear, fellows ? Take away Oli. From the Count Orsino, is it! the lady.
Mar. I know not, madam : 'tis a fair young Oli. Go to, you ’re a dry fool ; I'll no more of man, and well attended. you : besides, you grow dishonest.
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay! Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. good counsel will amend : for give the dry fool Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you : he speaks drink, then is the fool not dry ; bid the dishonest nothing but madman. Fie on him ! man mend himself: if he mend, he is no longer
Exit MARIA dishonest ; if he cannot, let the botcher mend Go yon, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, him. Any thing that's mended is but patched : I am sick, or not at home ; what you will, to virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin ; dismiss it.
Erit MALVOLIO. 130 and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, If that this simple syllogism will serve, so ; if and people dislike it. it will not, what remedy? As there is no true Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if cuckold but calamity, so beauty 's a flower. The thy eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say cram with brains ! for here he comes, one of again, take her away.
thy kin has a most weak pia mater. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
Enter Sir Toby BELCI. • Clo. Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non facit monachum : that's as much to Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he say as I wear not motley in my brain. Good at the gate, cousin ? madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Sir To. A gentleman. Oli. Can you do it ?
Oli. A gentleman! What gentleman ! Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna.
Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here,-a plague o Oli. Make your proof.
these pickle-herring! How now, sot ! Clo. I must catechize you for it, maclonna : Clo. Good Sir Toby! good my mouse of virtue, answer me.
Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I 'll early by this lethargy? bide your proof.
Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one Clo. Good madonna, why mournest thou ?
at the gate. Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
Sir To: Let him be the devil, an he will, I care Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. 1.** Clo. he more fool, madonna, to mourn for
E.cit. your brother's soul being in heaven. Take away Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ! the fool, gentlemen.
Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool, and a macOli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? man : one draught above heat makes him a fool, doth he not mend !
the second mads him, and a third drowns him. Mal. Yes; and shall do till the pangs of death Oli. Go thon and seek the crowner, and let shake him : infirmity, that decays the wise, cloth him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third segne cver make the better fool.
of drink, he's drowned : go, look after him. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby | fool shall look to the madman.
mad, be gone ; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he not that time of moon with me to make one in will speak with you. I told him you were sick: so skipping a dialogue. he takes on him to understand so much, and
Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. therefore comes to speak with you. I told him
Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a you were asleep: he seems to have a foreknow- little longer. Some mollification for your giant, ledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak sweet lady. with you. What is to be said to bim, lady ? he's
Oli. Tell me your mind. fortified against any denial.
V'io. I am a messenger. Oli. Tell him he shall not speak with me.
Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to Nal. Ha's been told so; and he says, he'll deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the Speak your office. supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you.
l'io. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no Oli. What kind o' man is he?
overture of war, no taxation of homage: I hold Mal. Why, of mankind.
the olive in my hand ; my words are as full of Oli. What manner of man?
peace as matter. Mal. Of very ill manner : he'll speak with
Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? you, will you or no.
what would you ? oli. Of what personage and years is he?
Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young lam, and what I would, are as secret as maiden.
have I learned from my entertainment. What enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: head ; to your ears, divinity; to any other's, 'tis with him in standing water, between boy and profanation.
He is very well-favoured, and he speaks Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear very shrewishly: one would think his mother's this divinity. Exeunt MARIA and Attendants. milk were scarce out of him.
Now, sir ; what is your text? Oli. Let him approach. Call in my gentle
Vio. Most sweet lady,
Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may, Jal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. Eicit.
be said of it. Where lies your text ?
Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
Oli. In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom? Oli. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my Vio. To answer by the method, in the first face. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy of his heart.
Oli. O! I have read it: it is heresy. Have Enter VIOLA and Attendants.
you no more to say y? Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. is she?
Oli. Have you any commission from your lord Oli. Speak to me; I shall answer for her. to negotiate with my face ? You are now out Your will?
of your text: but we will draw the curtain and l'io. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable show you the picture. Look you, sir ; such a beanty,- I pray you, tell me if this be the lady one I was this present : is 't not well done? of the house, for I never saw her: I would be
Unreiling. loath to cast away my speech ; for besides that Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. it is excellently well penned, I have taken great Oli. "Tis in grain, sir ; 'twill endure wind and pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain weather. no scorn ; I am very comptible, even to the least Vio. "Tis beauty truly blent, whosered and white sinister usage.
191 Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : Oli. Whence came you, sir ?
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, l'io. I can say little more than I have studied, If you will lead these graces to the grave and that question is out of my part. Good gentle And leave the world no copy. one, give me modest assurance if you be the lady Oli. O! sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it Oli. Are you a comedian ?
shall be inventoried, and every particle and l'in. No, my profound heart; and yet, by the utensil labelled to my will; as, Item, Two lips very fangs of malice I swear 1 am not that I indifferent red; Item, Two grey eyes with lids play. Are you the lady of the house?
to them ; Item, One neck, one chin, and so forth. oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Were you sent hither to praise me? rin. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp l'io. I see you what you are: you are too proud; yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not But, if you were the devil, you are fair. yours to reserve. But this is from my commis. My lord and master loves you : 0! such love sion : I will on with my speech in your praise, Could be but recompens'd, though you were and then show you the heart of my message.
crown'd Oli. Come to what is important in't : I forgive The nonpareil of beauty. for the praise.
How does he love me? Vio. Alas! I took great pains to study it, and Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, 'tis poetical.
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Oli. It is the more like to be feigned: I pray Oli. Your lord does know my mind; I cannot you keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my
love him : gates, and allowed your approach rather to Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, sonder at you than to hear you. If you be not of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; 280