Twelfth Night

By William Shakespeare

Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine

  with Michael Poston and Rebecca Niles

Folger Shakespeare Library

https://shakespeare.folger.edu/shakespeares-works/twelfth-night/

Created on Apr 23, 2016, from FDT version 0.9.2.

Characters in the Play

VIOLA, a lady of Messaline shipwrecked on the coast of Illyria (later disguised as CESARIO)

OLIVIA, an Illyrian countess

MARIA, her waiting-gentlewoman

SIR TOBY BELCH, Olivia’s kinsman

SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK, Sir Toby’s companion

MALVOLIO, steward in Olivia’s household

FOOL, Olivia’s jester, named Feste

FABIAN, a gentleman in Olivia’s household

ORSINO, duke (or count) of Illyria

Gentlemen serving Orsino:

        VALENTINE

        CURIO

SEBASTIAN, Viola’s brother

ANTONIO, friend to Sebastian

CAPTAIN

PRIEST

Two OFFICERS

Lords, Sailors, Musicians, and other Attendants

ACT 1

Scene 1

Enter Orsino, Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords,
with Musicians playing.

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        5

That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odor. 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        10

Receiveth as the sea, naught 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.        15

CURIO

Will you go hunt, my lord?

ORSINO  What, Curio?

CURIO  The hart.

ORSINO

Why, so I do, the noblest that I have.

O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,        20

Methought she purged the air of pestilence.

That instant was I turned into a hart,

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,

E’er since pursue me.

Enter Valentine.

How now, what news from her?        25

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 veilèd walk,        30

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.

ORSINO

O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame        35

To pay this debt of love but to a brother,

How will she love when the rich golden shaft

Hath killed the flock of all affections else

That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart,

These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled        40

Her sweet perfections with one self king!

Away before me to sweet beds of flowers!

Love thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

They exit.

Scene 2

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 drowned.—What think you,        5

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,        10

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 practice)

To a strong mast that lived upon the sea,        15

Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back,

I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves

So long as I could see.

VIOLA, giving him money  For saying so, there’s gold.

Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,        20

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?        25

CAPTAIN

A noble duke, in nature as in name.

VIOLA  What is his name?

CAPTAIN  Orsino.

VIOLA

Orsino. I have heard my father name him.

He was a bachelor then.        30

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.        35

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,        40

They say, she hath abjured the sight

And company 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,        45

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,        50

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—        55

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 shalt present me as an eunuch to him.

It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing        60

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.        65

When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

VIOLA  I thank thee. Lead me on.

They exit.

Scene 3

Enter Sir Toby and Maria.

TOBY  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        5

to your ill hours.

TOBY  Why, let her except before excepted!

MARIA  Ay, but you must confine yourself within the

modest limits of order.

TOBY  Confine? I’ll confine myself no finer than I am.        10

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        15

knight that you brought in one night here to be her

wooer.

TOBY  Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

MARIA  Ay, he.

TOBY  He’s as tall a man as any ’s in Illyria.        20

MARIA  What’s that to th’ purpose?

TOBY  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.

TOBY  Fie that you’ll say so! He plays o’ th’ viol-de-gamboys        25

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 quarreler, and, but that        30

he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath

in quarreling, ’tis thought among the prudent he

would quickly have the gift of a grave.

TOBY  By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors

that say so of him. Who are they?        35

MARIA  They that add, moreover, he’s drunk nightly in

your company.

TOBY  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 coistrel that        40

will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o’ th’

toe like a parish top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo,

for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

Enter Sir Andrew.

ANDREW  Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch?

TOBY  Sweet Sir Andrew!        45

ANDREW, to Maria  Bless you, fair shrew.

MARIA  And you too, sir.

TOBY  Accost, Sir Andrew, accost!

ANDREW  What’s that?

TOBY  My niece’s chambermaid.        50

ANDREW  Good Mistress Accost, I desire better

acquaintance.

MARIA  My name is Mary, sir.

ANDREW  Good Mistress Mary Accost—

TOBY  You mistake, knight. “Accost” is front her, board        55

her, woo her, assail her.

ANDREW  By my troth, I would not undertake her in

this company. Is that the meaning of “accost”?

MARIA  Fare you well, gentlemen.        She begins to exit.

TOBY  An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou        60

mightst never draw sword again.

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 th’ hand.        65

ANDREW  Marry, but you shall have, and here’s my

hand.        He offers his hand.

MARIA, taking his hand  Now sir, thought is free. I

pray you, bring your hand to th’ butt’ry bar and let

it drink.        70

ANDREW  Wherefore, sweetheart? What’s your

metaphor?

MARIA  It’s dry, sir.

ANDREW  Why, I think so. I am not such an ass but I

can keep my hand dry. But what’s your jest?        75

MARIA  A dry jest, 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.        Maria exits.

TOBY  O knight, thou lack’st a cup of canary! When did        80

I see thee so put down?

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        85

does harm to my wit.

TOBY  No question.

ANDREW  An I thought that, I’d forswear it. I’ll ride

home tomorrow, Sir Toby.

TOBY  Pourquoi, my dear knight?        90

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 bearbaiting. O, had I but

followed the arts!

TOBY  Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.        95

ANDREW  Why, would that have mended my hair?

TOBY  Past question, for thou seest it will not curl by

nature.

ANDREW  But it becomes me well enough, does ’t not?

TOBY  Excellent! It hangs like flax on a distaff, and I        100

hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs

and spin it off.

ANDREW  Faith, I’ll home tomorrow, 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        105

woos her.

TOBY  She’ll none o’ th’ 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, man.

ANDREW  I’ll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o’ th’        110

strangest mind i’ th’ world. I delight in masques

and revels sometimes altogether.

TOBY  Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

ANDREW  As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be,

under the degree of my betters, and yet I will not        115

compare with an old man.

TOBY  What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

ANDREW  Faith, I can cut a caper.

TOBY  And I can cut the mutton to ’t.

ANDREW  And I think I have the back-trick simply as        120

strong as any man in Illyria.

TOBY  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        125

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.        130

ANDREW  Ay, ’tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a

dun-colored stock. Shall we set about some

revels?

TOBY  What shall we do else? Were we not born under

Taurus?        135

ANDREW  Taurus? That’s sides and heart.

TOBY  No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee

caper. Sir Andrew dances. Ha, higher! Ha, ha,

excellent!

They exit.

Scene 4

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man’s attire as Cesario.

VALENTINE  If the Duke continue these favors 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 humor or my negligence, that        5

you call in question the continuance of his love. Is

he inconstant, sir, in his favors?

VALENTINE  No, believe me.

VIOLA  I thank you.

Enter Orsino, Curio, and Attendants.

Here comes the Count.        10

ORSINO  Who saw Cesario, ho?

VIOLA  On your attendance, my lord, here.

ORSINO, to Curio and Attendants

Stand you awhile aloof.—Cesario,

Thou know’st no less but all. I have unclasped

To thee the book even of my secret soul.        15

Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her.

Be not denied access. Stand at her doors

And tell them, there thy fixèd foot shall grow

Till thou have audience.

VIOLA  Sure, my noble lord,        20

If she be so abandoned to her sorrow

As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

ORSINO

Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds

Rather than make unprofited return.

VIOLA

Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?        25

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.        30

VIOLA

I think not so, my lord.

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        35

Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound,

And all is semblative a womans 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        40

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. Aside. Yet a barful strife!        45

Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.

They exit.

Scene 5

Enter Maria and Feste, the Fool.

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.

FOOL  Let her hang me. He that is well hanged in this        5

world needs to fear no colors.

MARIA  Make that good.

FOOL  He shall see none to fear.

MARIA  A good Lenten answer. I can tell thee where

that saying was born, of “I fear no colors.”        10

FOOL  Where, good Mistress Mary?

MARIA  In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in

your foolery.

FOOL  Well, God give them wisdom that have it, and

those that are Fools, let them use their talents.        15

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?

FOOL  Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage,

and, for turning away, let summer bear it out.        20

MARIA  You are resolute, then?

FOOL  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.

FOOL  Apt, in good faith, very apt. Well, go thy way. If Sir        25

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.

She exits.

Enter Lady Olivia with Malvolio and Attendants.

FOOL, aside  Wit, an ’t be thy will, put me into good        30

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.”—God bless

thee, lady!        35

OLIVIA  Take the Fool away.

FOOL  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.

FOOL  Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel        40

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. Anything that’s

mended is but patched; virtue that transgresses is        45

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        50

again, take her away.

OLIVIA  Sir, I bade them take away you.

FOOL  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        55

me leave to prove you a fool.

OLIVIA  Can you do it?

FOOL  Dexteriously, good madonna.

OLIVIA  Make your proof.

FOOL  I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good my        60

mouse of virtue, answer me.

OLIVIA  Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I’ll bide

your proof.

FOOL  Good madonna, why mourn’st thou?

OLIVIA  Good Fool, for my brother’s death.        65

FOOL  I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

OLIVIA  I know his soul is in heaven, Fool.

FOOL  The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your

brother’s soul, being in heaven. Take away the fool,

gentlemen.        70

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.        75

FOOL  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

twopence that you are no fool.

OLIVIA  How say you to that, Malvolio?        80

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        85

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  O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste

with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless,        90

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.        95

FOOL  Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou

speak’st well of Fools!

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?        100

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        105

but madman. Fie on him! Maria exits. Go you,

Malvolio. If it be a suit from the Count, I am sick,

or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. (Malvolio

exits.) Now you see, sir, how your fooling

grows old, and people dislike it.        110

FOOL  Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest

son should be a Fool, whose skull Jove cram with

brains, for—here he comes—one of thy kin has a

most weak pia mater.

Enter Sir Toby.

OLIVIA  By mine honor, half drunk!—What is he at the        115

gate, cousin?

TOBY  A gentleman.

OLIVIA  A gentleman? What gentleman?

TOBY  ’Tis a gentleman here—a plague o’ these pickle

herring!—How now, sot?        120

FOOL  Good Sir Toby.

OLIVIA  Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by

this lethargy?

TOBY  Lechery? I defy lechery. There’s one at the gate.

OLIVIA  Ay, marry, what is he?        125

TOBY  Let him be the devil an he will, I care not. Give

me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.        He exits.

OLIVIA  What’s a drunken man like, Fool?

FOOL  Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman. One

draught above heat makes him a fool, the second        130

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.

FOOL  He is but mad yet, madonna, and the Fool shall        135

look to the madman.        He exits.

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        140

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.        145

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.        150

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        155

enough for a boy—as a squash is before ’tis a

peascod, or a codling when ’tis almost an apple. ’Tis

with him in standing water, between boy and man.

He is very well-favored, and he speaks very shrewishly.

One would think his mother’s milk were        160

scarce out of him.

OLIVIA

Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.

MALVOLIO  Gentlewoman, my lady calls.        He exits.

Enter Maria.

OLIVIA

Give me my veil. Come, throw it o’er my face.

Olivia veils.

We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.        165

Enter Viola.

VIOLA  The honorable 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        170

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?        175

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?        180

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        185

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        190

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        195

allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than

to hear you. If you be not mad, begone; 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.        200

VIOLA  No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little

longer.—Some mollification for your giant, sweet

lady.

OLIVIA  Tell me your mind.

VIOLA  I am a messenger.        205

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        210

my hand. My words are as full 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        215

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. Maria and Attendants exit. Now, sir, what

is your text?        220

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?        225

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        230

negotiate with my face? You are now out of your

text. But we will draw the curtain and show you the

picture. She removes her veil. Look you, sir, such a

one I was this present. Is ’t not well done?

VIOLA  Excellently done, if God did all.        235

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 cruel’st she alive        240

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 labeled        245

to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item,

two gray 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.        250

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

crowned

The nonpareil of beauty.        255

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,        260

Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;

In voices well divulged, free, learned, 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.        265

VIOLA

If I did love you in my master’s flame,

With such a suff’ring, such a deadly life,

In your denial I would find no sense.

I would not understand it.

OLIVIA  Why, what would you?        270

VIOLA

Make me a willow cabin at your gate

And call upon my soul within the house,

Write loyal cantons of contemnèd love

And sing them loud even in the dead of night,

Hallow your name to the reverberate hills        275

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.        280

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—        285

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.

She offers money.

VIOLA

I am no fee’d post, lady. Keep your purse.

My master, not myself, lacks recompense.        290

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.        She exits.

OLIVIA  “What is your parentage?”

“Above my fortunes, yet my state is well.        295

I am a gentleman.” I’ll be sworn thou art.

Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit

Do give thee fivefold blazon. Not too fast! Soft,

soft!

Unless the master were the man. How now?        300

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!        305

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.

She hands him a ring.

Desire him not to flatter with his lord,        310

Nor hold him up with hopes. I am not for him.

If that the youth will come this way tomorrow,

I’ll give him reasons for ’t. Hie thee, Malvolio.

MALVOLIO  Madam, I will.        He exits.

OLIVIA

I do I know not what, and fear to find        315

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.

She exits.

ACT 2

Scene 1

Enter Antonio and Sebastian.

ANTONIO  Will you stay no longer? Nor will you not that

I go with you?

SEBASTIAN  By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly

over me. The malignancy of my fate might perhaps

distemper yours. Therefore I shall crave of you your        5

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        10

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        15

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,        20

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.        25

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        30

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.        35

SEBASTIAN  If you will not undo what you have done—

that is, kill him whom you have recovered—desire

it not. Fare you 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        40

eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Count

Orsino’s court. Farewell.        He exits.

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.        45

But come what may, I do adore thee so

That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

He exits.

Scene 2

Enter Viola and Malvolio, at several doors.

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        5

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        10

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. He throws

down the ring. If it be worth stooping for, there it        15

lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.

He exits.

VIOLA

I left no ring with her. What means this lady?

She picks up the ring.

Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her!

She made good view of me, indeed so much

That methought her eyes had lost her tongue,        20

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,        25

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!        30

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.        35

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.        40

It is too hard a knot for me t’ untie.

She exits.

Scene 3

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

TOBY  Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after

midnight is to be up betimes, and “diluculo surgere,”

thou know’st—

ANDREW  Nay, by my troth, I know not. But I know to

be up late is to be up late.        5

TOBY  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 lives consist of the four

elements?        10

ANDREW  Faith, so they say, but I think it rather consists

of eating and drinking.

TOBY  Thou ’rt a scholar. Let us therefore eat and

drink. Marian, I say, a stoup of wine!

Enter Feste, the Fool.

ANDREW  Here comes the Fool, i’ faith.        15

FOOL  How now, my hearts? Did you never see the

picture of “We Three”?

TOBY  Welcome, ass! Now let’s have a catch.

ANDREW  By my troth, the Fool has an excellent breast.

I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg,        20

and so sweet a breath to sing, as the Fool has.—In

sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night

when thou spok’st of Pigrogromitus of the Vapians

passing the equinoctial of Queubus. ’Twas very

good, i’ faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman.        25

Hadst it?

FOOL  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.

ANDREW  Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling when        30

all is done. Now, a song!

TOBY, giving money to the Fool  Come on, there is

sixpence for you. Let’s have a song.

ANDREW, giving money to the Fool  There’s a testril of

me, too. If one knight give a—        35

FOOL  Would you have a love song or a song of good

life?

TOBY  A love song, a love song.

ANDREW  Ay, ay, I care not for good life.

FOOL sings

        O mistress mine, where are you roaming?        40

        O, stay and hear! Your truelove’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.        45

ANDREW  Excellent good, i’ faith!

TOBY  Good, good.

FOOL sings

        What is love? ’Tis not hereafter.

        Present mirth hath present laughter.

           What’s to come is still unsure.        50

        In delay there lies no plenty,

        Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.

           Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

ANDREW  A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

TOBY  A contagious breath.        55

ANDREW  Very sweet and contagious, i’ faith.

TOBY  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?        60

ANDREW  An you love me, let’s do ’t. I am dog at a

catch.

FOOL  By ’r Lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

ANDREW  Most certain. Let our catch be “Thou

Knave.”        65

FOOL  “Hold thy peace, thou knave,” knight? I shall be

constrained in ’t to call thee “knave,” knight.

ANDREW  ’Tis not the first time I have constrained one

to call me “knave.” Begin, Fool. It begins “Hold

thy peace.”        70

FOOL  I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

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.        75

TOBY  My lady’s a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio’s

a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Sings. Three merry men be

we. Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of her

blood? Tillyvally! “Lady”! Sings. There dwelt a man

in Babylon, lady, lady.        80

FOOL  Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable fooling.

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.

TOBY sings  O’ the twelfth day of December—        85

MARIA  For the love o’ God, peace!

Enter Malvolio.

MALVOLIO  My masters, are you mad? Or what are you?

Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty but to

gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do you

make an ale-house of my lady’s house, that you        90

squeak out your coziers’ catches without any mitigation

or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of

place, persons, nor time in you?

TOBY  We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

MALVOLIO  Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady        95

bade me tell you that, though she harbors 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        100

bid you farewell.

TOBY sings

Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.

MARIA  Nay, good Sir Toby.

FOOL sings

His eyes do show his days are almost done.

MALVOLIO  Is ’t even so?        105

TOBY sings

But I will never die.

FOOL sings

Sir Toby, there you lie.

MALVOLIO  This is much credit to you.

TOBY sings

Shall I bid him go?

FOOL sings

What an if you do?        110

TOBY sings

Shall I bid him go, and spare not?

FOOL sings

O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

TOBY  Out o’ tune, sir? You lie. Art any more than a

steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous,

there shall be no more cakes and ale?        115

FOOL  Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i’ th’

mouth, too.

TOBY  Thou ’rt i’ th’ right.—Go, sir, rub your chain

with crumbs.—A stoup of wine, Maria!

MALVOLIO  Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favor        120

at anything more than contempt, you would not give

means for this uncivil rule. She shall know of it, by

this hand.        He exits.

MARIA  Go shake your ears!

ANDREW  ’Twere as good a deed as to drink when a        125

man’s a-hungry, to challenge him the field and

then to break promise with him and make a fool of

him.

TOBY  Do ’t, knight. I’ll write thee a challenge. Or I’ll

deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.        130

MARIA  Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight. Since the

youth of the Count’s was today with my lady, she is

much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me

alone with him. If I do not gull him into a nayword

and make him a common recreation, do not think I        135

have wit enough to lie straight in my bed. I know I

can do it.

TOBY  Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.

MARIA  Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

ANDREW  O, if I thought that, I’d beat him like a dog!        140

TOBY  What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite reason,

dear knight?

ANDREW  I have no exquisite reason for ’t, but I have

reason good enough.

MARIA  The devil a puritan that he is, or anything        145

constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass

that cons state without book and utters it by great

swaths; 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        150

that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause

to work.

TOBY  What wilt thou do?

MARIA  I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of

love, wherein by the color of his beard, the shape of        155

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.        160

TOBY  Excellent! I smell a device.

ANDREW  I have ’t in my nose, too.

TOBY  He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,

that they come from my niece, and that she’s in

love with him.        165

MARIA  My purpose is indeed a horse of that color.

ANDREW  And your horse now would make him an ass.

MARIA  Ass, I doubt not.

ANDREW  O, ’twill be admirable!

MARIA  Sport royal, I warrant you. I know my physic        170

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.

TOBY  Good night, Penthesilea.        She exits.  175

ANDREW  Before me, she’s a good wench.

TOBY  She’s a beagle true bred, and one that adores

me. What o’ that?

ANDREW  I was adored once, too.

TOBY  Let’s to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for        180

more money.

ANDREW  If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way

out.

TOBY  Send for money, knight. If thou hast her not i’

th’ end, call me “Cut.”        185

ANDREW  If I do not, never trust me, take it how you

will.

TOBY  Come, come, I’ll go burn some sack. ’Tis too

late to go to bed now. Come, knight; come, knight.

They exit.

Scene 4

Enter Orsino, Viola, Curio, and others.

ORSINO

Give me some music. Music plays. 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,        5

More than light airs and recollected terms

Of these most brisk and giddy-pacèd times.

Come, but one verse.

CURIO  He is not here, so please your Lordship, that

should sing it.        10

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.

ORSINO

Seek him out Curio exits, and play the tune the        15

while.        Music plays.

To Viola. 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        20

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.

ORSINO  Thou dost speak masterly.        25

My life upon ’t, young though thou art, thine eye

Hath stayed upon some favor that it loves.

Hath it not, boy?

VIOLA  A little, by your favor.

ORSINO

What kind of woman is ’t?        30

VIOLA  Of your complexion.

ORSINO

She is not worth thee, then. What years, i’ faith?

VIOLA  About your years, my lord.

ORSINO

Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take

An elder than herself. So wears she to him;        35

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.        40

VIOLA  I think it well, my lord.

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 displayed, doth fall that very hour.        45

VIOLA

And so they are. Alas, that they are so,

To die even when they to perfection grow!

Enter Curio and Feste, the Fool.

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        50

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.        55

FOOL  Are you ready, sir?

ORSINO  Ay, prithee, sing.        Music.

The Song.

FOOL

        Come away, come away, death,

           And in sad cypress let me be laid.

        Fly away, fly away, breath,        60

           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.        65

        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,        70

           Lay me, O, where

        Sad true lover never find my grave

           To weep there.

ORSINO, giving money  There’s for thy pains.

FOOL  No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.        75

ORSINO  I’ll pay thy pleasure, then.

FOOL  Truly sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or

another.

ORSINO  Give me now leave to leave thee.

FOOL  Now the melancholy god protect thee and the        80

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

everything and their intent everywhere, for that’s it

that always makes a good voyage of nothing.        85

Farewell.        He exits.

ORSINO

Let all the rest give place.

All but Orsino and Viola exit.

Once more, Cesario,

Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.

Tell her my love, more noble than the world,        90

Prizes not quantity of dirty lands.

The parts that Fortune hath bestowed 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.        95

VIOLA  But if she cannot love you, sir—

ORSINO

I cannot be so answered.

VIOLA  Sooth, but you must.

Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,

Hath for your love as great a pang of heart        100

As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her;

You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?

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        105

So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.

Alas, their love may be called appetite,

No motion of the liver but the palate,

That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;

But mine is all as hungry as the sea,        110

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—

ORSINO  What dost thou know?        115

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.        120

ORSINO  And what’s her history?

VIOLA

A blank, my lord. She never told her love,

But let concealment, like a worm i’ th’ bud,

Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,

And with a green and yellow melancholy        125

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.        130

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?

ORSINO  Ay, that’s the theme.        135

To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say

My love can give no place, bide no denay.

He hands her a jewel and they exit.

Scene 5

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

TOBY  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.

TOBY  Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly

rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?        5

FABIAN  I would exult, man. You know he brought me

out o’ favor with my lady about a bearbaiting here.

TOBY  To anger him, we’ll have the bear again, and we

will fool him black and blue, shall we not, Sir

Andrew?        10

ANDREW  An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter Maria.

TOBY  Here comes the little villain.—How now, my

metal of India?

MARIA  Get you all three into the boxtree. Malvolio’s

coming down this walk. He has been yonder i’ the        15

sun practicing 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! They hide. Lie

thou there putting down the letter, for here comes        20

the trout that must be caught with tickling.

She exits.

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        25

more exalted respect than anyone else that follows

her. What should I think on ’t?

TOBY, aside  Here’s an overweening rogue.

FABIAN, aside  O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare

turkeycock of him. How he jets under his advanced        30

plumes!

ANDREW, aside  ’Slight, I could so beat the rogue!

TOBY, aside  Peace, I say.

MALVOLIO  To be Count Malvolio.

TOBY, aside  Ah, rogue!        35

ANDREW, aside  Pistol him, pistol him!

TOBY, aside  Peace, peace!

MALVOLIO  There is example for ’t. The lady of the

Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

ANDREW, aside  Fie on him, Jezebel!        40

FABIAN, aside  O, peace, now he’s deeply in. Look how

imagination blows him.

MALVOLIO  Having been three months married to her,

sitting in my state—

TOBY, aside  O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!        45

MALVOLIO  Calling my officers about me, in my

branched velvet gown, having come from a daybed

where I have left Olivia sleeping—

TOBY, aside  Fire and brimstone!

FABIAN, aside  O, peace, peace!        50

MALVOLIO  And then to have the humor of state; and

after a demure travel of regard, telling them I

know my place, as I would they should do theirs, to

ask for my kinsman Toby—

TOBY, aside  Bolts and shackles!        55

FABIAN, aside  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 my watch, or play with my—some

rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to me—        60

TOBY, aside  Shall this fellow live?

FABIAN, aside  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        65

control—

TOBY, aside  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        70

speech—”

TOBY, aside  What, what?

MALVOLIO  “You must amend your drunkenness.”

TOBY, aside  Out, scab!

FABIAN, aside  Nay, patience, or we break the sinews        75

of our plot!

MALVOLIO  “Besides, you waste the treasure of your

time with a foolish knight—”

ANDREW, aside  That’s me, I warrant you.

MALVOLIO  “One Sir Andrew.”        80

ANDREW, aside  I knew ’twas I, for many do call me

fool.

MALVOLIO, seeing the letter  What employment have

we here?

FABIAN, aside  Now is the woodcock near the gin.        85

TOBY, aside  O, peace, and the spirit of humors intimate

reading aloud to him.

MALVOLIO, taking up the letter  By my life, this is my

lady’s hand! These be her very c’s, her u’s, and her

t’s, and thus she makes her great P’s. It is in        90

contempt of question her hand.

ANDREW, aside  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        95

she uses to seal—’tis my lady! He opens the letter.

To whom should this be?

FABIAN, aside  This wins him, liver and all.

MALVOLIO reads

        Jove knows I love,

           But who?        100

        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!        105

TOBY, aside  Marry, hang thee, brock!

MALVOLIO reads

        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.        110

FABIAN, aside  A fustian riddle!

TOBY, aside  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, aside  What dish o’ poison has she dressed        115

him!

TOBY, aside  And with what wing the staniel checks

at it!

MALVOLIO  “I may command where I adore.” Why, she

may command me; I serve her; she is my lady. Why,        120

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.I.”—

TOBY, aside  O, ay, make up that.—He is now at a cold        125

scent.

FABIAN, aside  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!        130

FABIAN, aside  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.        135

FABIAN, aside  And “O” shall end, I hope.

TOBY, aside  Ay, or I’ll cudgel him and make him cry

“O.”

MALVOLIO  And then “I” comes behind.

FABIAN, aside  Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you        140

might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes

before you.

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.        145

Soft, here follows prose.

He reads. 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        150

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.        155

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 desir’st to be so. If

not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of        160

servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers.

Farewell. She that would alter services with thee,

The Fortunate-Unhappy.

Daylight and champian discovers not more! This is

open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I        165

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        170

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        175

the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be

praised! Here is yet a postscript.

He reads. Thou canst not choose but know who I

am. If thou entertain’st my love, let it appear in thy

smiling; thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my        180

presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.

Jove, I thank thee! I will smile. I will do everything

that thou wilt have me.        He exits.

FABIAN  I will not give my part of this sport for a

pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.        185

TOBY  I could marry this wench for this device.

ANDREW  So could I too.

TOBY  And ask no other dowry with her but such

another jest.

ANDREW  Nor I neither.        190

Enter Maria.

FABIAN  Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

TOBY  Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck?

ANDREW  Or o’ mine either?

TOBY  Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip and become

thy bondslave?        195

ANDREW  I’ faith, or I either?

TOBY  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?

TOBY  Like aqua vitae with a midwife.        200

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 color

she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;

and he will smile upon her, which will now        205

be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted

to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot

but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will

see it, follow me.

TOBY  To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil        210

of wit!

ANDREW  I’ll make one, too.

They exit.

ACT 3

Scene 1

Enter Viola and Feste, the Fool, playing a tabor.

VIOLA  Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live

by thy tabor?

FOOL  No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA  Art thou a churchman?

FOOL  No such matter, sir. I do live by the church, for I        5

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

tabor if thy tabor stand by the church.        10

FOOL  You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is

but a chev’ril 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.        15

FOOL  I would therefore my sister had had no name,

sir.

VIOLA  Why, man?

FOOL  Why, sir, her name’s a word, and to dally with

that word might make my sister wanton. But,        20

indeed, words are very rascals since bonds disgraced

them.

VIOLA  Thy reason, man?

FOOL  Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words,

and words are grown so false I am loath to prove        25

reason with them.

VIOLA  I warrant thou art a merry fellow and car’st for

nothing.

FOOL  Not so, sir. I do care for something. But in my

conscience, sir, I do not care for you. If that be to        30

care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you

invisible.

VIOLA  Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s Fool?

FOOL  No, indeed, sir. The Lady Olivia has no folly. She

will keep no Fool, sir, till she be married, and Fools        35

are as like husbands as pilchers 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.

FOOL  Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the        40

sun; it shines everywhere. 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. Giving a        45

coin.

FOOL  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

one, aside though I would not have it grow on my

chin.—Is thy lady within?        50

FOOL  Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?

VIOLA  Yes, being kept together and put to use.

FOOL  I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to

bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

VIOLA  I understand you, sir. ’Tis well begged. Giving        55

another coin.

FOOL  The matter I hope is not great, sir, begging but a

beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir.

I will conster 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 overworn.        60

He exits.

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, check at every feather        65

That comes before his eye. This is a practice

As full of labor as a wise man’s art:

For folly that he wisely shows is fit;

But wise men, folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit.

Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.

TOBY  Save you, gentleman.        70

VIOLA  And you, sir.

ANDREW  Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

VIOLA  Et vous aussi. Votre serviteur!

ANDREW  I hope, sir, you are, and I am yours.

TOBY  Will you encounter the house? My niece is        75

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.

TOBY  Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.

VIOLA  My legs do better understand me, sir, than I        80

understand what you mean by bidding me taste my

legs.

TOBY  I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

VIOLA  I will answer you with gait and entrance—but

we are prevented.        85

Enter Olivia, and Maria, her Gentlewoman.

Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain

odors on you!

ANDREW, aside  That youth’s a rare courtier. “Rain

odors,” well.

VIOLA  My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own        90

most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

ANDREW, aside  “Odors,” “pregnant,” and “vouchsafed.”

I’ll get ’em all three all ready.

OLIVIA  Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to

my hearing.        Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria exit.  95

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        100

Since lowly feigning was called 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,        105

Would they were blanks rather than filled 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.        110

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,        115

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        120

Which you knew none of yours. What might you

think?

Have you not set mine honor at the stake

And baited it with all th’ unmuzzled thoughts

That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your        125

receiving

Enough is shown. A cypress, not a bosom,

Hides my heart. So, let me hear you speak.

VIOLA

I pity you.

OLIVIA  That’s a degree to love.        130

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        135

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 wife is like to reap a proper man.        140

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?

OLIVIA

Stay. I prithee, tell me what thou think’st of me.        145

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?        150

I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

OLIVIA, aside

O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful

In the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murd’rous guilt shows not itself more soon

Than love that would seem hid. Love’s night is        155

noon.—

Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

By maidhood, honor, truth, and everything,

I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,

Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.        160

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 is better.

VIOLA

By innocence I swear, and by my youth,        165

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. Nevermore

Will I my master’s tears to you deplore.        170

OLIVIA

Yet come again, for thou perhaps mayst move

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

They exit in different directions.

Scene 2

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

ANDREW  No, faith, I’ll not stay a jot longer.

TOBY  Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

FABIAN  You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

ANDREW  Marry, I saw your niece do more favors to the

Count’s servingman than ever she bestowed upon        5

me. I saw ’t i’ th’ orchard.

TOBY  Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me

that.

ANDREW  As plain as I see you now.

FABIAN  This was a great argument of love in her toward        10

you.

ANDREW  ’Slight, will you make an ass o’ me?

FABIAN  I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of

judgment and reason.

TOBY  And they have been grand-jurymen since before        15

Noah was a sailor.

FABIAN  She did show favor to the youth in your sight

only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse

valor, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in

your liver. You should then have accosted her, and        20

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        25

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 valor or

policy.

ANDREW  An ’t be any way, it must be with valor, for        30

policy I hate. I had as lief be a Brownist as a

politician.

TOBY  Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis

of valor. Challenge me the Count’s youth to fight

with him. Hurt him in eleven places. My niece shall        35

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 valor.

FABIAN  There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.

ANDREW  Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?        40

TOBY  Go, write it in a martial hand. Be curst and

brief. It is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent

and full of invention. Taunt him with the license of

ink. If thou “thou”-est him some thrice, it shall not

be amiss, and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of        45

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.

ANDREW  Where shall I find you?        50

TOBY  We’ll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.

Sir Andrew exits.

FABIAN  This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

TOBY  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        55

not deliver ’t?

TOBY  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        60

will clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of th’

anatomy.

FABIAN  And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage

no great presage of cruelty.

Enter Maria.

TOBY  Look where the youngest wren of mine comes.        65

MARIA  If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves

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.        70

He’s in yellow stockings.

TOBY  And cross-gartered?

MARIA  Most villainously, like a pedant that keeps a

school i’ th’ church. I have dogged him like his

murderer. He does obey every point of the letter        75

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        80

smile and take ’t for a great favor.

TOBY  Come, bring us, bring us where he is.

They all exit.

Scene 3

Enter Sebastian and Antonio.

SEBASTIAN

I would not by my will have troubled you,

But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,

I will no further chide you.

ANTONIO

I could not stay behind you. My desire,

More sharp than filèd steel, did spur me forth;        5

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 skill-less in these parts, which to a stranger,

Unguided and unfriended, often prove        10

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,        15

And thanks, and ever thanks; and 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 relics of this town?        20

ANTONIO

Tomorrow, 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.        25

ANTONIO  Would you’d 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 answered.        30

SEBASTIAN

Belike you slew great number of his people?

ANTONIO

Th’ offense 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 answered in repaying        35

What we took from them, which, for traffic’s sake,

Most of our city did. Only myself stood out,

For which, if I be lapsèd in this place,

I shall pay dear.

SEBASTIAN  Do not then walk too open.        40

ANTONIO

It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here’s my purse.

Giving him money.

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        45

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.        50

SEBASTIAN

I’ll be your purse-bearer and leave you

For an hour.

ANTONIO  To th’ Elephant.

SEBASTIAN  I do remember.

They exit in different directions.

Scene 4

Enter Olivia and Maria.

OLIVIA, aside

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 begged or

borrowed.

I speak too loud.—        5

Where’s 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.        10

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. Maria exits. I am as mad as he,        15

If sad and merry madness equal be.

Enter Maria with Malvolio.

How now, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO  Sweet lady, ho, ho!

OLIVIA  Smil’st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad

occasion.        20

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.”        25

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        30

hand.

OLIVIA  Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO  To bed? “Ay, sweetheart, and I’ll come to

thee.”

OLIVIA  God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and        35

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        40

before my lady?

MALVOLIO  “Be not afraid of greatness.” ’Twas well

writ.

OLIVIA  What mean’st thou by that, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO  “Some are born great—”        45

OLIVIA  Ha?

MALVOLIO  “Some achieve greatness—”

OLIVIA  What sayst thou?

MALVOLIO  “And some have greatness thrust upon

them.”        50

OLIVIA  Heaven restore thee!

MALVOLIO  “Remember who commended thy yellow

stockings—”

OLIVIA  Thy yellow stockings?

MALVOLIO  “And wished to see thee cross-gartered.”        55

OLIVIA  Cross-gartered?

MALVOLIO  “Go to, thou art made, if thou desir’st to be

so—”

OLIVIA  Am I made?

MALVOLIO  “If not, let me see thee a servant still.”        60

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. Servant exits. Good Maria, let        65

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.

Olivia and Maria exit in different directions.

MALVOLIO  O ho, do you come near me now? No worse        70

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        75

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,        80

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, everything adheres together,

that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a        85

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.        90

Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.

TOBY  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?        95

MALVOLIO  Go off, I discard you. Let me enjoy my

private. Go off.

MARIA, to Toby  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.        100

MALVOLIO  Aha, does she so?

TOBY, to Fabian and Maria  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.        105

MALVOLIO  Do you know what you say?

MARIA, to Toby  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 th’ wisewoman.        110

MARIA  Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning

if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than

I’ll say.

MALVOLIO  How now, mistress?

MARIA  O Lord!        115

TOBY  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.        120

TOBY, to Malvolio  Why, how now, my bawcock? How

dost thou, chuck?

MALVOLIO  Sir!

TOBY  Ay, biddy, come with me.—What, man, ’tis not

for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang        125

him, foul collier!

MARIA  Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby; get

him to pray.

MALVOLIO  My prayers, minx?

MARIA, to Toby  No, I warrant you, he will not hear of        130

godliness.

MALVOLIO  Go hang yourselves all! You are idle, shallow

things. I am not of your element. You shall

know more hereafter.        He exits.

TOBY  Is ’t possible?        135

FABIAN  If this were played upon a stage now, I could

condemn it as an improbable fiction.

TOBY  His very genius hath taken the infection of the

device, man.

MARIA  Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air        140

and taint.

FABIAN  Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

MARIA  The house will be the quieter.

TOBY  Come, we’ll have him in a dark room and

bound. My niece is already in the belief that he’s        145

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!        150

Enter Sir Andrew.

FABIAN  More matter for a May morning.

ANDREW, presenting a paper  Here’s the challenge.

Read it. I warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in ’t.

FABIAN  Is ’t so saucy?

ANDREW  Ay, is ’t. I warrant him. Do but read.        155

TOBY  Give me. He reads. Youth, whatsoever thou art,

thou art but a scurvy fellow.

FABIAN  Good, and valiant.

TOBY reads  Wonder not nor admire not in thy mind

why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason        160

for ’t.

FABIAN  A good note, that keeps you from the blow of

the law.

TOBY reads  Thou com’st to the Lady Olivia, and in my

sight she uses thee kindly. But thou liest in thy throat;        165

that is not the matter I challenge thee for.

FABIAN  Very brief, and to exceeding good sense—less.

TOBY reads  I will waylay thee going home, where if it be

thy chance to kill me—

FABIAN  Good.        170

TOBY reads  Thou kill’st me like a rogue and a villain.

FABIAN  Still you keep o’ th’ windy side of the law.

Good.

TOBY reads  Fare thee well, and God have mercy upon

one of our souls. He may have mercy upon mine, but        175

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.        180

MARIA  You may have very fit occasion for ’t. He is now

in some commerce with my lady and will by and

by depart.

TOBY  Go, Sir Andrew. Scout me for him at the corner

of the orchard like a bum-baily. So soon as ever        185

thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw’st, 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!        190

ANDREW  Nay, let me alone for swearing.        He exits.

TOBY  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,        195

this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed

no terror in the youth. He will find it comes from a

clodpoll. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by

word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek a notable

report of valor, and drive the gentleman (as I know        200

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.

Enter Olivia and Viola.

FABIAN  Here he comes with your niece. Give them        205

way till he take leave, and presently after him.

TOBY  I will meditate the while upon some horrid

message for a challenge.

Toby, Fabian, and Maria exit.

OLIVIA

I have said too much unto a heart of stone

And laid mine honor too unchary on ’t.        210

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 griefs.        215

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 tomorrow.

What shall you ask of me that I’ll deny,

That honor, saved, may upon asking give?        220

VIOLA

Nothing but this: your true love for my master.

OLIVIA

How with mine honor may I give him that

Which I have given to you?

VIOLA  I will acquit you.

OLIVIA

Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well.        225

A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.

She exits.

Enter Toby and Fabian.

TOBY  Gentleman, God save thee.

VIOLA  And you, sir.

TOBY  That defense thou hast, betake thee to ’t. Of what

nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know        230

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, skillful, and deadly.

VIOLA  You mistake, sir. I am sure no man hath any        235

quarrel to me. My remembrance is very free and

clear from any image of offense done to any man.

TOBY  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,        240

strength, skill, and wrath can furnish man withal.

VIOLA  I pray you, sir, what is he?

TOBY  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        245

his incensement at this moment is so implacable

that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death

and sepulcher. “Hob, nob” is his word; “give ’t or

take ’t.”

VIOLA  I will return again into the house and desire        250

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 valor. Belike this is a

man of that quirk.

TOBY  Sir, no. His indignation derives itself out of a very        255

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        260

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 offense to him is. It is something of my        265

negligence, nothing of my purpose.

TOBY  I will do so.—Signior Fabian, stay you by this

gentleman till my return.        Toby exits.

VIOLA  Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?

FABIAN  I know the knight is incensed against you even        270

to a mortal arbitrament, 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        275

proof of his valor. He is indeed, sir, the most skillful,

bloody, and fatal opposite that you could possibly

have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk

towards him? I will make your peace with him if I

can.        280

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.

They exit.

Enter Toby and Andrew.

TOBY  Why, man, he’s a very devil. I have not seen such

a firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard,        285

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 hits the

ground they step on. They say he has been fencer

to the Sophy.        290

ANDREW  Pox on ’t! I’ll not meddle with him.

TOBY  Ay, but he will not now be pacified. Fabian can

scarce hold him yonder.

ANDREW  Plague on ’t! An I thought he had been

valiant, and so cunning in fence, I’d have seen him        295

damned ere I’d have challenged him. Let him let

the matter slip, and I’ll give him my horse, gray

Capilet.

TOBY  I’ll make the motion. Stand here, make a good

show on ’t. This shall end without the perdition of        300

souls. Aside. Marry, I’ll ride your horse as well as I

ride you.

Enter Fabian and Viola.

Toby crosses to meet them.

Aside to Fabian. I have his horse to take up the

quarrel. I have persuaded him the youth’s a devil.

FABIAN, aside to Toby  He is as horribly conceited of        305

him, and pants and looks pale as if a bear were at his

heels.

TOBY, to Viola  There’s no remedy, sir; he will fight