KickAss Shakespeare isn't just Shakespeare: it is readable Shakespeare. Below is the whole play with both common text (think of the paperback books) and the primary text as published in 1623 right beside it.
And now for KickAss Shakespeare's presentation of
Or What you Will
(Updated text and data: 1 August 2016)
Act I. Scene I. Duke Orsino's palace.
Enter Duke Orsino, Curio, and other Lords; Musicians attending
If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how
But falls into
Even in a minute: so full of
Twelfe Night, Or what you will
Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.
Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.
Giue me excesse of it: that surfetting,
The appetite may sicken, and so dye.
That straine agen, it had a dying fall:
O, it came ore my eare, like the sweet sound
That breathes vpon a banke of Violets;
Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more,
'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.
O spirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou,
That notwithstanding thy capacitie,
Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there,
Of what validity, and pitch so ere,
But falles into abatement, and low price
Euen in a minute; so full of shapes is fancie,
That it alone, is high fantasticall
dying fall. fall: cadence. A musical term signifying the close of a musical passage. Dying: a reduction of sound. KellogTwelfth
fancy, love. Used many times by Shakespeare in this sense.
Will you go hunt, my lord?
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:20
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged the air of pestilence!
That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
And my desires, like
E'er since pursue me.
How now! what news from her?
O when mine eyes did see Oliuia first,
Me thought she purg'd the ayre of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a Hart,
And my desires like fell and cruell hounds,
Ere since pursue me. How now what newes from her?
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;30
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting in her sad remembrance.
But from her handmaid do returne this answer:
The Element it selfe, till seuen yeares heate,
Shall not behold her face at ample view:
But like a Cloystresse she will vailed walke,
And water once a day her Chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
A brothers dead loue, which she would keepe fresh
And lasting, in her sad remembrance
O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her; when liver, brain and heart,40
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
Her sweet perfections with one self king!
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers:
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
To pay this debt of loue but to a brother,
How will she loue, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections else
That liue in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart,
These soueraigne thrones, are all supply'd and fill'd
Her sweete perfections with one selfe king:
Away before me, to sweet beds of Flowres,
Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.
Act I. Scene II. The sea-coast.
Enter Viola, a Captain, and Sailors
What country, friends, is this?
Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.
This is Illyria, lady.
And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?
My brother he is in Elizium,
Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you saylors?
It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.
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 practise,
To a strong mast that lived upon the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
So long as I could see.
Assure your selfe, after our ship did split,
When you, and those poore number saued with you,
Hung on our driuing boate: I saw your brother
Most prouident in perill, binde himselfe,
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practise)
To a strong Maste, that liu'd vpon the sea:
Where like Orion on the Dolphines backe,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waues,
So long as I could see
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?
Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serues for authoritie
The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey?
Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours' travel from this very place.
Not three houres trauaile from this very place
Who governs here?
A noble duke, in nature as in name.
What is the name?
Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
He was a bachelor then.
He was a Batchellor then
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.
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know
What great ones do, the lesse will prattle of,)
That he did seeke the loue of faire Oliuia
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 company
And sight of men.
That dide some tweluemonth since, then leauing her
In the protection of his sonne, her brother,
Who shortly also dide: for whose deere loue
(They say) she hath abiur'd the sight
And company of men
O that I served that lady
And might not be delivered to the world,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is!
And might not be deliuered to the world
Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow
What my estate is
That were hard to compass;
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.
Because she will admit no kinde of suite,
No, not the Dukes
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,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For such disguise as haply shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him:
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing60
And speak to him in many sorts of music
What else may hap to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
And though that nature, with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee
I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites
With this thy faire and outward charracter.
I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously)
Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde,
For such disguise as haply shall become
The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke,
Thou shalt present me as an Eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing,
And speake to him in many sorts of Musicke,
That will allow me very worth his seruice.
What else may hap, to time I will commit,
Onely shape thou thy silence to my wit
Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see
I thank thee: lead me on.
Act I. Scene III. Olivia's house.
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria
What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.
death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to
By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'
nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great
exceptions to your ill hours.
a nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions
to your ill houres
Why, let her except, before excepted.
Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
limits of order.
modest limits of order
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.
these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee
these boots too: and they be not, let them hang themselues
in their owne straps
That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard
my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish
knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.
heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish
knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer
Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
What's that to the purpose?
Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
he's a very fool and a prodigal.
He's a very foole, and a prodigall
Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
word for word without book, and hath all the good
gifts of nature.
and speaks three or four languages word for word
without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature
He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that
he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that
he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he30
hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent
he would quickly have the gift of a grave.
he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath
the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling,
'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely
haue the gift of a graue
By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
that say so of him. Who are they?
that say so of him. Who are they?
They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.
in your company
With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to
her as long as there is a passage in my throat and
drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill
that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn
o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!40
Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke
in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not
drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne o'th toe, like a
parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo: for here coms
Sir Andrew Agueface.
Enter Sir Andrew
Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!
Enter Sir Andrew.
Sweet Sir Andrew!
Bless you, fair shrew.
And you too, sir.
My niece's chambermaid.
Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
My name is Mary, sir.
Good Mistress Mary Accost,--
You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her,
her, woo her, assail her.
her, woe her, assayle her
By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'?
company. Is that the meaning of Accost?
Fare you well, gentlemen.
An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
never draw sword again.
mightst neuer draw sword agen
An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have60
fools in hand?
draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue
fooles in hand?
Sir, I have not you by the hand.
Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.
hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke
Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?
It's dry, sir.
Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?
can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest?
A dry jest, sir.
Are you full of them?
Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
now I let go your hand, I am barren.
I let go your hand, I am barren.
O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I
see thee so put down?
I see thee so put downe?
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.
put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no
more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I
am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme
to my wit
An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
to-morrow, Sir Toby.
home to morrow sir Toby
Pourquoi, my dear knight?
What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had
bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in
fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but
followed the arts!
bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing
dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
Why, would that have mended my hair?
Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
and spin it off.
to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off
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.
not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me:
the Count himselfe here hard by, wooes her
She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I
have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,100
degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her
swear't. Tut there's life in't man
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.
strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Reuels
Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
with an old man.
the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with
an old man
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Faith, I can cut a caper.
And I can cut the mutton to't.
And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
as any man in Illyria.
strong as any man in Illyria
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?120
I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.
these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take
dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe
to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto?
My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much
as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou
meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by
the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vnder
the starre of a Galliard
Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?
dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?
What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?
Taurus! That's sides and heart.
No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!
Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.
Act I. Scene IV. Duke Orsino's palace.
Enter Valentine and Viola in man's attire
If the duke continue these favours towards you,
Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath
known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.
Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known
you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger
You either fear his humour or my negligence, that
you call in question the continuance of his love:
is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is
he inconstant sir, in his fauours
No, believe me.
I thank you. Here comes the count.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
Enter Duke Orsino, Curio, and attendants
Who saw Cesario, ho?
On your attendance, my lord; here.
Stand you a while aloof, Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul:
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou have audience.
Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd
To thee the booke euen of my secret soule.
Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her,
Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou haue audience
Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow20
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me
Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds
Rather than make unprofited return.
Rather then make vnprofited returne,
Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
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.
Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith;
It shall become thee well to act my woes:
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect
I think not so, my lord.
Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.
I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best
When least in company. Prosper well in this,40
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.
For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres,
That say thou art a man: Dianas lip
Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe
Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound,
And all is semblatiue a womans part.
I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him,
All if you will: for I my selfe am best
When least in companie: prosper well in this,
And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine
I'll do my best
To woo your lady:
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife,
Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.
Act I. Scene V. Olivia's house.
Enter Maria and Clown
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.
Enter Maria, and Clowne.
not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way
of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence
Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
world needs to fear no colours.
world, needs to feare no colours
Make that good.
He shall see none to fear.
A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that
saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.'
saying was borne, of I feare no colours
Where, good Mistress Mary?
In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those
that are fools, let them use their talents.
those that are fooles, let them vse their talents
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?
or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a hanging to
Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and,
for turning away, let summer bear it out.
and for turning away, let summer beare it out
You are resolute, then?
Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.
That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both
break, your gaskins fall.
breake, your gaskins fall
Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if
Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.
sir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece
of Eues flesh, as any in Illyria
Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my
lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!
Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft
prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may30
pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus?
'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'
Enter Olivia with Malvolio
God bless thee, lady!
Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.
those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue
fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a
wise man. For what saies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole,
then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady
Take the fool away.
Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
besides, you grow dishonest.
you grow dis-honest
Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend40
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
he cannot, let the
that's mended is but patched: virtue that
transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.
wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole
not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend,
he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher
mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu
that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that amends,
is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple
Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, what remedy?
As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a
flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I
say againe, take her away
Sir, I bade them take away you.
Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non
facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not
motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to
prove you a fool.
non facit monachum: that's as much to say, as I weare not
motley in my braine: good Madona, giue mee leaue to
proue you a foole
Can you do it?
Dexterously, good madonna.
Make your proof.
I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse
of virtue, answer me.
Mouse of vertue answer mee
Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.
Good madonna, why mournest thou?
Good fool, for my brother's death.
I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's
soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
Brothers soule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole,
What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?
Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him:
infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the
him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the
God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the
better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be
sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his
word for two pence that you are no fool.
better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that
I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence
that you are no Foole
How say you to that, Malvolio?
I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
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 to80
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.
a barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, with
an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone.
Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you
laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest
I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of
fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies
Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those
things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets:
there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do
nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
man, though he do nothing but reprove.
with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse,
and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts,
that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slander
in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle;
nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee do
nothing but reproue
Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou
speakest well of fools!
speak'st well of fooles.
Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much
desires to speak with you.
much desires to speake with you
From the Count Orsino, is it?
I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.
Who of my people hold him in delay?
Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but
madman: fie on him!
Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I
am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.
Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and
people dislike it.
madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a suit
from the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What you
will, to dismisse it.
Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & people
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.
sonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with
braines, for heere he comes.
Enter Sir Toby.
One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater
Enter Sir Toby Belch
By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
A gentleman! what gentleman?
'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these
pickle-herring! How now, sot!
herring: How now Sot
Good Sir Toby!
Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.
Ay, marry, what is he?
Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.
me faith say I. Well, it's all one.
What's a drunken man like, fool?
Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one
draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads
him; and a third drowns him.
One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second
maddes him, and a third drownes him
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.
o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's
drown'd: go looke after him
He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look
to the madman.
looke to the madman.
Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to130
understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to
have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him,
lady? he's fortified against any denial.
speake with you. I told him you were sicke, he takes on
him to vnderstand so much, and therefore comes to speak
with you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to haue
a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to
speake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee's
fortified against any deniall
Tell him he shall not speak with me.
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.
your doore like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter to
a bench, but hee'l speake with you
What kind o' man is he?
Why, of mankind.
What manner of man?
Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no.
you, or no
Of what personage and years is he?
Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for
a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him
in standing water, between boy and man. He is very
well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one
would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
for a boy: as a squash is before tis a pescod, or a Codling
when tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standing water,
betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd,
and he speakes verie shrewishly: One would thinke his
mothers milke were scarse out of him
Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
Wee'l once more heare Orsinos Embassie.
Enter Viola, and attendants
The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
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 away160
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.
I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house,
for I neuer saw her. I would bee loath to cast away my
speech: for besides that it is excellently well pend, I haue
taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee sustaine
no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the least
Whence came you, sir?
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.
question's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee
modest assurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, that | I
may proceede in my speech
Are you a comedian?
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?
phangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are you
the Ladie of the house?
If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
on with my speech in your praise, and then show you
the heart of my message.
selfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to reserue.
But this is from my Commission: I will on with
my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of
Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.
Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you,
keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates,
and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you
than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if
you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of
moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
it in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your
approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If
you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe:
'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so
skipping a dialogue
Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.
No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little
longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet190
lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger.
Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie;
tell me your minde, I am a messenger
Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when
the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office
It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.
of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe
in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter
Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?
What would you?
The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears,200
divinity, to any other's, profanation.
learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your eares, Diuinity;
to any others, prophanation
Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
Exeunt Maria and attendants
Now, sir, what is your text?
We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?
Most sweet lady,--
A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.
Where lies your text?
of it. Where lies your Text?
In Orsino's bosom.
In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?
To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
Good madam, let me see your face.
Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate
with my face? You are now out of your text: but
we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't
not well done?
negotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text:
but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture.
Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well
Excellently done, if God did all.
'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:220
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave
And leave the world no copy.
Natures owne sweet, and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st shee aliue,
If you will leade these graces to the graue,
And leaue the world no copie
O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give
out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
inventoried, and every particle and utensil
labelled to my will: as, item, two lips,
indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to
them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were
you sent hither to praise me?
out diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried
and euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my will: As,
Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes,
with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth.
Were you sent hither to praise me?
I see you what you are, you are too proud;
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
My lord and master loves you: O, such love
Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
The nonpareil of beauty!
But if you were the diuell, you are faire:
My Lord, and master loues you: O such loue
Could be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd
The non-pareil of beautie
How does he love me?
With adorations, fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire
Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him:
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,240
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant;
And in dimension and the shape of nature
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.
Yet I suppose him vertuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth;
In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,
And in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person; But yet I cannot loue him:
He might haue tooke his answer long ago
If I did love you in my master's flame,
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense;
I would not understand it.
With such a suffring, such a deadly life:
In your deniall, I would finde no sence,
I would not vnderstand it
Why, what would you?
Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me!
And call vpon my soule within the house,
Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue,
And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night:
Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles,
And make the babling Gossip of the aire,
Cry out Oliuia: O you should not rest
Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth,
But you should pittie me
You might do much.260
What is your parentage?
What is your Parentage?
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.
I am a Gentleman
Get you to your lord;
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.
I cannot loue him: let him send no more,
Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe,
To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:
I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee
I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.270
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.
My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence.
Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue,
And let your feruour like my masters be,
Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.
'What is your parentage?'
'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold
Unless the master were the man. How now!280
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!
Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well;
I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art,
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit,
Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft,
Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now?
Euen so quickly may one catch the plague?
Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections
With an inuisible, and subtle stealth
To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What hoa, Maluolio.
Here, madam, at your service.
Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,290
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio.
The Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him
Would I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his Lord,
Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to morrow,
Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee Maluolio
Madam, I will.
I do I know not what, and fear to find
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe;
What is decreed must be, and be this so.
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my minde:
Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe,
What is decreed, must be: and be this so.
Finis, Actus primus.
Act II. Scene I. The sea-coast.
Enter Antonio and Sebastian
Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you?
Actus Secundus, Scaena prima.
Enter Antonio & Sebastian.
I go with you
By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over
me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps
distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your
leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad
recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.
ouer me; the malignancie of my fate, might perhaps distemper
yours; therefore I shall craue of you your leaue,
that I may beare my euils alone. It were a bad recompence
for your loue, to lay any of them on you
Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.
No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere
extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a10
touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me
what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges
me in manners the rather to express myself. You
must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian,
which I called Roderigo. My father was that
Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard
of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both
born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased,
would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that;
for some hour before you took me from the breach of20
the sea was my sister drowned.
extrauagancie. But I perceiue in you so excellent a touch
of modestie, that you will not extort from me, what I am
willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me in manners,
the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee
then Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I call'd Rodorigo)
my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I
know you haue heard of. He left behinde him, my selfe,
and a sister, both borne in an houre: if the Heauens had
beene pleas'd, would we had so ended. But you sir, alter'd
that, for some houre before you tooke me from the
breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd
Alas the day!
A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled
me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but,
though I could not with such estimable wonder
overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly
publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but
call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt
water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.
me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but thogh
I could not with such estimable wonder ouer-farre beleeue
that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish her, shee
bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is
drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to
drowne her remembrance againe with more
Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
If you will not murder me for my love, let me be
be your seruant
If you will not undo what you have done, that is,
kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not.
Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness,
and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that
upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell
tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell.
kill him, whom you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare
ye well at once, my bosome is full of kindnesse, and I
am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that vpon the
least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am
bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.
The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!40
I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there.
But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.
I haue many enemies in Orsino's Court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there:
But come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seeme sport, and I will go.
Act II. Scene II. A street.
Enter Viola, Malvolio following
Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia?
Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores.
Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since
arrived but hither.
She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have
saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself.
She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord
into a desperate assurance she will none of him:
and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to
come again in his affairs, unless it be to report10
your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.
haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your
selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord
into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one
thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe
in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking
of this: receiue it so
She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.
Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her
will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth
stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be
it his that finds it.
her will is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stooping
for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that
I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,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,
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.
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 to untie!
Fortune forbid my out-side haue not charm'd her:
She made good view of me, indeed so much,
That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speake in starts distractedly.
She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion
Inuites me in this churlish messenger:
None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none;
I am the man, if it be so, as tis,
Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame:
Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse,
Wherein the pregnant enemie does much.
How easie is it, for the proper false
In womens waxen hearts to set their formes:
Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee,
For such as we are made, if such we bee:
How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely,
And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him:
And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me:
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my maisters loue:
As I am woman (now alas the day)
What thriftlesse sighes shall poore Oliuia breath?
O time, thou must vntangle this, not I,
It is too hard a knot for me t' vnty.
Act II. Scene III. Olivia's house.
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew
Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after
midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo
surgere,' thou know'st,--
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
To. Approach Sir Andrew: not to bee a bedde after
midnight, is to be vp betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou
Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
late is to be up late.
be vp late, is to be vp late
A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.
To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is
early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go
to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the10
To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early:
so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed betimes.
Does not our liues consist of the foure Elements?
Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists
of eating and drinking.
of eating and drinking
Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!
Marian I say, a stoope of wine.
Here comes the fool, i' faith.
How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
of 'we three'?
of we three?
Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.
By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I20
had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg,
and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In
sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last
night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the
Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas
very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy
leman: hadst it?
had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so
sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth 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 yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence
for thy Lemon, hadst it?
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.
is no Whip-stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the
Mermidons are no bottle-ale houses
Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all
is done. Now, a song.
all is done. Now a song
Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.
There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a--
Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?
A love-song, a love-song.
Ay, ay: I care not for good life.
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,40
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.
Clowne sings .
O Mistris mine where are you roming?
O stay and heare, your true loues coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further prettie sweeting.
Iourneys end in louers meeting,
Euery wise mans sonne doth know.
Excellent good, i' faith.
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Present mirth, hath present laughter:
What's to come, is still vnsure.
In delay there lies no plentie,
Then come kisse me sweet and twentie:
Youths a stuffe will not endure
A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
A contagious breath.
Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.
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?
But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee
rowze the night-Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three
soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do that?
An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.
By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.'
'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be70
constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.
in't, to call thee knaue, Knight
'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to
call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.'
call me knaue. Begin foole: it begins, Hold thy peace
I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
Good, i' faith. Come, begin.
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.
my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward Maluolio, and
bid him turne you out of doores, neuer trust me
My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not80
I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'
a Peg-a-ramsie, and Three merry men be wee. Am not I
consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. Ladie,
There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady
Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
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
do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more
[Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'--
For the love o' God, peace!
My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye90
no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an
alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your
coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor
time in you?
Haue you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble
like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Alehouse
of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out your Coziers
Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice?
Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!
Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me
tell you, that, though she harbours you as her
kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If100
you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you
are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please
you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid
bad me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kinsman,
she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can
separate your selfe and your misdemeanors, you are welcome
to the house: if not, and it would please you to take
leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell
'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'
Nay, good Sir Toby.
'His eyes do show his days are almost done.'
Is't even so?
'But I will never die.'
Sir Toby, there you lie.
This is much credit to you.
'Shall I bid him go?'
'What an if you do?'
'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'
'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'
Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a
steward? Dost thou think, because thou art
virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
Dost thou thinke because thou art vertuous, there
shall be no more Cakes and Ale?
Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the
Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!
crums. A stope of Wine Maria
Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any
thing more than contempt, you would not give means
for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.
at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue
meanes for this vnciuill rule; she shall know of it by this
Go shake your ears.
'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's
a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to
break promise with him and make a fool of him.
a hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake
promise with him, and make a foole of him
Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll130
deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
deliuer thy indignation to him by word of mouth
Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the
youth of the count's was today with thy lady, she is
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me
alone with him: if I do not gull him into a
nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not
think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:
I know I can do it.
the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone
with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make
him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte enough
to lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it
Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.
Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.
O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!
What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason
The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
constantly, but a time-pleaser; an
that cons state without book and utters it by great
swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so
crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is150
his grounds of faith that all that look on him love
him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find
notable cause to work.
constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that
cons State without booke, and vtters it by great swarths.
The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd (as he thinkes)
with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all
that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will
my reuenge finde notable cause to worke
What wilt thou do?
I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure
of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find
himself most feelingly personated. I can write very
like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we160
can hardly make distinction of our hands.
loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his
legge, the manner of his gate, the expressure of his eye,
forehead, and complection, he shall finde himselfe most
feelingly personated. I can write very like my Ladie
your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make
distinction of our hands
Excellent! I smell a device.
I have't in my nose too.
He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
that they come from my niece, and that she's in
love with him.
that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue
My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
And your horse now would make him an ass.
Ass, I doubt not.
O, 'twill be admirable!
Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will
work with him. I will plant you two, and let the
fool make a third, where he shall find the letter:
observe his construction of it. For this night, to
bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.
will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let
the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter:
obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and
dreame on the euent: Farewell.
Good night, Penthesilea.
Before me, she's a good wench.
She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me:
what o' that?
I was adored once too.
Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for
If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.
Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
the end, call me cut.
end, call me Cut
If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.
Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late
to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.
to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.
Act II. Scene IV. Duke Orsino's palace.
Enter Duke Orsino, Viola, Curio, and others
Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night:
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others
Now good Cesario, but that peece of song,
That old and Anticke song we heard last night;
Me thought it did releeue my passion much,
More then light ayres, and recollected termes
Of these most briske and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse
He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.
should sing it?
Who was it?
Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady
Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house.
Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the
Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
Exit Curio. Music plays
Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
For such as I am all true lovers are,
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:
For such as I am, all true Louers are,
Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Saue in the constant image of the creature
That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?
It gives a very echo to the seat20
Where Love is throned.
Where loue is thron'd
Thou dost speak masterly:
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
Hath it not, boy?
My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye
Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues:
Hath it not boy?
A little, by your favour.
What kind of woman is't?
Of your complexion.
She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
About your years, my lord.
Too old by heaven: let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.
An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him;
So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart:
For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues,
Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme,
More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne,
Then womens are
I think it well, my lord.
Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;40
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre
Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre
And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!
To die, euen when they to perfection grow.
Enter Curio and Clown
O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with
Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,50
Like the old age.
Enter Curio & Clowne.
Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine;
The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun,
And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones,
Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of loue,
Like the old age
Are you ready, sir?
weave their thread with bones, The bobbins used in lace-making. DennisTN
Ay; prithee, sing.
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it!60
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there!
And in sad cypresse let me be laide.
Fye away, fie away breath,
I am slaine by a faire cruell maide:
My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it.
My part of death no one so true did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweete
On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne:
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:80
A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me o where
Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there
There's for thy pains.
No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir.
I'll pay thy pleasure then.
Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
Give me now leave to leave thee.
Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for
thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such90
constancy put to sea, that their business might be
every thing and their intent every where; for that's
it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy
minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constancie
put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing,
and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes
makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Let all the rest give place.
Curio and attendants retire
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;100
But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie:
Tell her my loue, more noble then the world
Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands,
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her:
Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune:
But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems
That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule
But if she cannot love you, sir?
I cannot be so answer'd.
Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd?
Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is,
Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart
As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her:
You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?
There is no woman's sides110
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart
So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention.
Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat,
That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt,
But mine is all as hungry as the Sea,
And can digest as much, make no compare
Betweene that loue a woman can beare me,
And that I owe Oliuia
Ay, but I know--
What dost thou know?
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.
In faith they are as true of heart, as we.
My Father had a daughter lou'd a man
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman
I should your Lordship
And what's her history?
A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,130
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
But let concealment like a worme i'th budde
Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought,
And with a greene and yellow melancholly,
She sate like Patience on a Monument,
Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede?
We men may say more, sweare more, but indeed
Our shewes are more then will: for still we proue
Much in our vowes, but little in our loue
But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.140
Sir, shall I to this lady?
And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
Sir, shall I to this Lady?
Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.
To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say,
My loue can giue no place, bide no denay.
Act II. Scene V. Olivia's garden.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport,
let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
let me be boyl'd to death with Melancholly
Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly
rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
Rascally sheepe-biter, come by some notable shame?
I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o'
favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
o' fauour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting heere
To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will
fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?
we will foole him blacke and blew, shall we not sir Andrew?
An we do not, it is pity of our lives.
Here comes the little villain.
How now, my metal of India!
Mettle of India?
Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's
coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the
sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half
hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I
know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of
him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there,
Throws down a letter
for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.
comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder i'the
Sunne practising behauiour to his own shadow this halfe
houre: obserue him for the loue of Mockerie: for I know
this Letter wil make a contemplatiue Ideot of him. Close
in the name of ieasting, lye thou there: for heere comes
the Trowt, that must be caught with tickling.
'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come
thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one
of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more
exalted respect than any one else that follows her.
What should I think on't?
told me she did affect me, and I haue heard her self come
thus neere, that should shee fancie, it should bee one of
my complection. Besides she vses me with a more exalted
respect, then any one else that followes her. What
should I thinke on't?
Here's an overweening rogue!
O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock
of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
Cocke of him, how he iets vnder his aduanc'd plumes
'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!
Peace, I say.
To be Count Malvolio!
Pistol him, pistol him.
There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy
married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
married the yeoman of the wardrobe
Fie on him, Jezebel!
O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how
imagination blows him.
Having been three months married to her, sitting in
sitting in my state
O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet
gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left
Veluet gowne: hauing come from a day bedde, where I
haue left Oliuia sleeping
Fire and brimstone!
O, peace, peace!
And then to have the humour of state; and after a
demure travel of regard, telling them I know my50
place as I would they should do theirs, to for my
a demure trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my
place, as I would they should doe theirs: to aske for my
Bolts and shackles!
O peace, peace, peace! now, now.
Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make
out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind
up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby
approaches; courtesies there to me,--
make out for him: I frowne the while, and perchance
winde vp my watch, or play with my some rich Iewell:
Toby approaches; curtsies there to me
Shall this fellow live?
Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.
I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar
smile with an austere regard of control,--
familiar smile with an austere regard of controll
And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?
Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on
your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'--
me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of speech
'You must amend your drunkenness.'
Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with70
a foolish knight,'--
with a foolish knight
That's me, I warrant you.
'One Sir Andrew,'--
I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.
What employment have we here?
Taking up the letter
Now is the woodcock near the gin.
O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading
aloud to him!
aloud to him
By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her
very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her80
great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
very C's, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes shee her
great P's. It is in contempt of question her hand
Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that?
[Reads] 'To the unknown beloved, this, and my good
wishes:'--her very phrases! By your leave, wax.
Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she
uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?
Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax. Soft, and the impressure
her Lucrece, with which she vses to seale: tis my
Lady: To whom should this be?
This wins him, liver and all.
Jove knows I love: But who?
Lips, do not move;90
No man must know.
'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers
altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be
man must know. No man must know. What followes?
The numbers alter'd: No man must know,
If this should be thee Maluolio?
Marry, hang thee, brock!
I may command where I adore;
But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth
sway my life
A fustian riddle!
Excellent wench, say I.
'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let
me see, let me see, let me see.
let me see, let me see, let me see
What dish o' poison has she dressed him!
And with what wing the staniel cheques at it!
'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command
me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is
evident to any formal capacity; there is no
obstruction in this: and the end,--what should110
that alphabetical position portend? If I could make
that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A,
command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is
euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction
in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall position
portend, if I could make that resemble something
in me? Softly, M.O.A.I
O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent.
Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as
rank as a fox.
as ranke as a Fox
M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name.
Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is
excellent at faults.
is excellent at faults
M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel;120
that suffers under probation A should follow but O does.
that suffers vnder probation: A. should follow, but O.
And O shall end, I hope.
Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!
And then I comes behind.
Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see
more detraction at your heels than fortunes before
see more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before
M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and
yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for
every one of these letters are in my name. Soft!130
here follows prose.
'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I
am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some
are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open
their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them;
and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be,
cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be
opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let
thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into140
the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee
that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy
yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever
cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art
made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see
thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and
not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell.
She that would alter services with thee,
Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is150
open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors,
I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross
acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man.
I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade
me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady
loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of
late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered;
and in this she manifests herself to my love, and
with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits
of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will160
be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and
cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting
on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling;
thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my
presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.'
Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do
everything that thou wilt have me.
and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to mee, for euery
one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here followes
prose: If this fall into thy hand, reuolue. In my stars
I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatnesse: Some
are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and some
haue greatnesse thrust vppon em. Thy fates open theyr
hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to invre
thy selfe to what thou art like to be: cast thy humble
slough, and appeare fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman,
surly with seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of
state; put thy selfe into the tricke of singularitie. Shee
thus aduises thee, that sighes for thee. Remember who
commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee
euer crosse garter'd: I say remember, goe too, thou art
made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a steward
still, the fellow of seruants, and not woorthie to
touch Fortunes fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter
seruices with thee, the fortunate vnhappy daylight and
champian discouers not more: This is open, I will bee
proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir
Toby, I will wash off grosse acquaintance, I will be point
deuise, the very man. I do not now foole my selfe, to let
imagination iade mee; for euery reason excites to this,
that my Lady loues me. She did commend my yellow
stockings of late, shee did praise my legge being crosse-garter'd,
and in this she manifests her selfe to my loue, &
with a kinde of iniunction driues mee to these habites of
her liking. I thanke my starres, I am happy: I will bee
strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crosse Garter'd,
euen with the swiftnesse of putting on. Ioue, and my
starres be praised. Heere is yet a postscript. Thou canst
not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let
it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore
in my presence still smile, deero my sweete, I prethee. Ioue
I thanke thee, I will smile, I wil do euery thing that thou
wilt haue me.
I will not give my part of this sport for a pension
of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
of thousands to be paid from the Sophy
I could marry this wench for this device.
So could I too.
And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.
Nor I neither.
Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
Or o' mine either?
Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy180
I' faith, or I either?
Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when
the image of it leaves him he must run mad.
when the image of it leaues him, he must run mad
Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?
Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.
If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark
his first approach before my lady: he will come to
her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she
abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;190
and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a
melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him
into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow
his first approach before my Lady: hee will come to her
in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhorres, and
crosse garter'd, a fashion shee detests: and hee will smile
vpon her, which will now be so vnsuteable to her disposition,
being addicted to a melancholly, as shee is, that it
cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil
see it follow me
To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!
I'll make one too.
Finis Actus secundus
Act III. Scene I. Olivia's garden.
Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabour
Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.
Enter Viola and Clowne.
by thy Tabor?
No, sir, I live by the church.
Art thou a churchman?
No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for
I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by
I do liue at my house, and my house dooth stand by the
So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a
beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy10
tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.
begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy Tabor,
if thy Tabor stand by the Church
You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is
but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the
wrong side may be turned outward!
but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the
wrong side may be turn'd outward
Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with
words may quickly make them wanton.
words, may quickely make them wanton
I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that
word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words20
are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.
that word, might make my sister wanton: But indeede,
words are very Rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them
Thy reason, man?
Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and
words are grown so false, I am loath to prove
reason with them.
and wordes are growne so false, I am loath to proue reason
I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.
Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my
conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be
to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing
sir, I would it would make you inuisible
Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?
No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she
will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and
fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to
herrings; the husband's the bigger: I am indeed not
her fool, but her corrupter of words.
will keepe no foole sir, till she be married, and fooles are
as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Husbands
the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir corrupter
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun,
it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but
the fool should be as oft with your master as with
my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.
Sun, it shines euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the
Foole should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mistris:
I thinke I saw your wisedome there
Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
Hold, there's expenses for thee.
thee. Hold there's expences for thee
Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!
thee a beard
By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for
though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy
one, though I would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is
thy Lady within?
Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Yes, being kept together and put to use.
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring50
a Cressida to this Troilus.
a Cressida to this Troylus
I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.
The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but
a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is
within, sir. I will construe to them whence you
come; who you are and what you would are out of my
welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn.
begger: Cressida was a begger. 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 ouer-worne.
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,60
The quality of persons, and the time,
And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practise
As full of labour as a wise man's art
For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.
And to do that well, craues a kinde of wit:
He must obserue their mood on whom he iests,
The quality of persons, and the time:
And like the Haggard, checke at euery Feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a Wise-mans Art:
For folly that he wisely shewes, is fit;
But wisemens folly falne, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew
Save you, gentleman.
Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.
And you, sir.
Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous
you should enter, if your trade be to her.
you should enter, if your trade be to her
I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
list of my voyage.
list of my voyage
Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.
My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
what you meane by bidding me taste my legs
I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we80
Enter Olivia and Maria
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
odours on you!
Enter Oliuia, and Gentlewoman.
Most excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine Odours
That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well.
My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant
and vouchsafed ear.
most pregnant and vouchsafed eare
'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em
all three all ready.
all three already
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
Exeunt Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew, and Maria
Give me your hand, sir.
my hearing. Giue me your hand sir
My duty, madam, and most humble service.
What is your name?
Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
Since lowly feigning was call'd complement:
Y'are seruant to the Count Orsino youth
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
Your seruants seruant, is your seruant Madam
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
Would they were blankes, rather then fill'd with me
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf.
On his behalfe
O, by your leave, I pray you,
I bade you never speak again of him:
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that
Than music from the spheres.
I bad you neuer speake againe of him;
But would you vndertake another suite
I had rather heare you, to solicit that,
Then Musicke from the spheares
Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,110
A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you:
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak.
After the last enchantment you did heare,
A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse
My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you:
Vnder your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you in a shamefull cunning
Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake,
And baited it with all th' vnmuzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing
Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a bosome,
Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake
I pity you.
That's a degree to love.
No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.
That verie oft we pitty enemies
Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.
O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion than the wolf!
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:130
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your were is alike to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due west.
O world, how apt the poore are to be proud?
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?
The clocke vpbraides me with the waste of time:
Be not affraid good youth, I will not haue you,
And yet when wit and youth is come to haruest,
Your wife is like to reape a proper man:
There lies your way, due West
Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
Attend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship:
You'l nothing Madam to my Lord, by me:
I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.
That you do think you are not what you are.
If I think so, I think the same of you.
Then think you right: I am not what I am.
I would you were as I would have you be!
Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
I wish it might, for now I am your foole
O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing,150
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause,
But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
In the contempt and anger of his lip,
A murdrous guilt shewes not it selfe more soone,
Then loue that would seeme hid: Loues night, is noone.
Cesario, by the Roses of the Spring,
By maid-hood, honor, truth, and euery thing,
I loue thee so, that maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide:
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause:
But rather reason thus, with reason fetter;
Loue sought, is good: but giuen vnsought, is better
By innocence I swear, and by my youth
I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.160
And so adieu, good madam: never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
I haue one heart, one bosome, and one truth,
And that no woman has, nor neuer none
Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone.
And so adieu good Madam, neuer more,
Will I my Masters teares to you deplore
Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue.
Act III. Scene II. Olivia's house.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.
Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the
count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me;
I saw't i' the orchard.
Counts Seruing-man, then euer she bestow'd vpon mee:
I saw't i'th Orchard
Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that.
As plain as I see you now.
This was a great
'Slight, will you make an ass o' me?
I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of
judgment and reason.
iudgement, and reason
And they have been grand-jury-men since before Noah
was a sailor.
Noah was a Saylor
She did show favour to the youth in your sight only
to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to
put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver.
You should then have accosted her; and with some
excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should20
have banged the youth into dumbness. This was
looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the
double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash
off, and you are now sailed into the north of my
lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle
on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by
some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.
onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour,
to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer:
you should then haue accosted her, and with some excellent
iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd
the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your
hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this opportunitie
you let time wash off, and you are now sayld into
the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang
like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do redeeme
it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or
An't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy
I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a
policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politician
Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of
valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight
with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall
take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no
love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's
commendation with woman than report of valour.
valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him
hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note of it,
and assure thy selfe, there is no loue-Broker in the world,
can more preuaile in mans commendation with woman,
then report of valour
There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?
Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief;
it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun40
of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink:
if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be
amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of
paper, although the sheet were big enough for the
Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou
write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it.
it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of
inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if thou
thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and as many
Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the
sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in England,
set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle enough
in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose-pen,
no matter: about it
Where shall I find you?
We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go.
Exit Sir Andrew
Exit Sir Andrew.
This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.
I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand
strong, or so.
strong, or so
We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll
Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the
youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes
cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were
opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as
will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of
the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes
cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd
and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the
foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy
And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no
great presage of cruelty.
great presage of cruelty.
Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes.
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself
into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is
turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no
Christian, that means to be saved by believing
rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages
of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.
selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is turned
Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian
that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer
beleeue such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in
Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school
i' the church. I have dogged him, like his
murderer. He does obey every point of the letter
that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his
face into more lines than is in the new map with the
augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such
a thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things
at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she do,
he'll smile and take't for a great favour.
Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murtherer.
He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt,
to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes,
then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the
Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hardly
forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will
strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great
Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
Act III. Scene III. A street.
Enter Sebastian and Antonio
I would not by my will have troubled you;
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.
Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.
But since you make your pleasure of your paines,
I will no further chide you
I could not stay behind you: my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
And not all love to see you, though so much
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,10
Unguided and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable: my willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.
(More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth,
And not all loue to see you (though so much
As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage)
But iealousie, what might befall your trauell,
Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger,
Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue
Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue,
The rather by these arguments of feare
Set forth in your pursuite
My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make but thanks,
And thanks; and ever [ ] oft good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
But, were my worth as is my conscience firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?20
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?
I can no other answer make, but thankes,
And thankes: and euer oft good turnes,
Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay:
But were my worth, as is my conscience firme,
You should finde better dealing: what's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne?
To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging.
I am not weary, and 'tis long toight:
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That do renown this city.
I pray you let vs satisfie our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame
That do renowne this City
Would you'ld pardon me;
I do not without danger walk these streets:
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys
I did some service; of such note indeed,30
That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd.
I do not without danger walke these streetes.
Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his gallies,
I did some seruice, of such note indeede,
That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd
Belike you slew great number of his people.
The offence is not of such a bloody nature;
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake,
Most of our city did: only myself stood out;
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,
I shall pay dear.
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell
Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument:
It might haue since bene answer'd in repaying
What we tooke from them, which for Traffiques sake
Most of our City did. Onely my selfe stood out,
For which if I be lapsed in this place
I shall pay deere
Do not then walk too open.
It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse.
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the town: there shall you have me.
In the South Suburbes at the Elephant
Is best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet,
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the Towne, there shall you haue me
Why I your purse?
Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
You have desire to purchase; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.
You haue desire to purchase: and your store
I thinke is not for idle Markets, sir
I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you
For an hour.
For an houre
To the Elephant.
I do remember.
Act III. Scene IV. Olivia's garden.
Enter Olivia and Maria
I have sent after him: he says he'll come;
How shall I feast him? what bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd.
I speak too loud.
Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes:
Where is Malvolio?
Enter Oliuia and Maria.
How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd.
I speake too loud: Where's Maluolio, he is sad, and ciuill,
And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes,
Where is Maluolio?
He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He
is, sure, possessed, madam.
But in very strange manner. He is sure possest Madam
Why, what's the matter? does he rave?
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.
were best to haue some guard about you, if hee
come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits
Go call him hither.
I am as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.
Enter Maria, with Malvolio
How now, Malvolio!
I am as madde as hee,
If sad and merry madnesse equall bee.
How now Maluolio?
Sweet lady, ho, ho.
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
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
This does make some obstruction in the blood:
This crosse-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
Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?
What is the matter with thee?
Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It
did come to his hands, and commands shall be
executed: I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.
legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall
be executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane
Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
To bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee.
God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so and kiss
thy hand so oft?
kisse thy hand so oft?
How do you, Malvolio?
At your request! yes; nightingales answer daws.
Yes Nightingales answere Dawes
Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?
before my Lady
'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas well writ.
What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
'Some are born great,'--
'Some achieve greatness,'--
What sayest thou?
'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'
Heaven restore thee!
'Remember who commended thy yellow stocking s,'--
Thy yellow stockings!
'And wished to see thee cross-gartered.'
'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so;'--
Am I made?
'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'
Why, this is very midsummer madness.
Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is
returned: I could hardly entreat him back: he
attends your ladyship's pleasure.
Orsino's is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he
attends your Ladyships pleasure
I'll come to him.
Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's
my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special
care of him: I would not have him miscarry for the60
half of my dowry.
Exeunt Olivia and Maria
Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd too. Where's my
Cosine Toby, let some of my people haue a speciall care
of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of
O, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than
Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with
the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may
appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that
in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says she;
'be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants;
let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put
thyself into the trick of singularity;' and
consequently sets down the manner how; as, a sad70
face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the
habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have
limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me
thankful! And when she went away now, 'Let this
fellow be looked to:' fellow! not Malvolio, nor
after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing
adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no
scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous
or unsafe circumstance--What can be said? Nothing
that can be can come between me and the full80
prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the
doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
man then sir Toby to looke to me. This concurres directly
with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may
appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in
the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be opposite
with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue
langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the
tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the
manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow
tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth.
I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me
thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fellow
be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor after my
degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither,
that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no
obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What
can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene
me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I,
is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Enter Maria, with Sir Toby Belch and Fabian
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.
Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe
possest him, yet Ile speake to him
Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir?
how is't with you, man?
How ist with you man?
Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private: go
Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not90
I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a
care of him.
did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue
a care of him
Ah, ha! does she so?
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.
gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio?
How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider,
he's an enemy to mankinde
Do you know what you say?
La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes
it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched!
he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd
Carry his water to the wise woman.
Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I
live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.
if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile
How now, mistress!
Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: do
you not see you move him? let me alone with him.
you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him
No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is
rough, and will not be roughly used.
is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd
Whyhow now, my
Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for
gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: hang
him, foul collier!
grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul
Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.
him to pray
My prayers, minx!
No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow
things: I am not of your element: you shall know
things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more
If this were played upon a stage now, I could
condemn it as an improbable fiction.
it as an improbable fiction
His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.
Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.
Why, we shall make him mad indeed.
The house will be the quieter.
Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My
niece is already in the belief that he's mad: we
may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance,130
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.
My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may
carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our very
pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy
on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar
and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see.
Enter Sir Andrew
More matter for a May morning.
Enter Sir Andrew.
Here's the challenge, read it: warrant there's
vinegar and pepper in't.
vinegar and pepper in't
Is't so saucy?
Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but read.
'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.'
Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow
Good, and valiant.
[Reads] 'Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind,
why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.'
thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't
A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law.
[Reads] 'Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my
sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy
throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for.'
thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter
I challenge thee for
Very brief, and to exceeding good sense--less.
[Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it150
be thy chance to kill me,'--
Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.
Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: good.
Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon one of our
souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better,
and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and th
sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek"
If this letter move him not, his legs cannot:
I'll give't him.
If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot: Ile giu't him
You may have very fit occasion for't: he is now in
some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.
in some commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by
Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner the
orchard like a bum-baily: so soon as ever thou seest
him, draw; and, as thou drawest swear horrible; for
it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a
swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood
more approbation than ever proof itself would have
earned him. Away!
of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou
seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for
it comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering
accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more
approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd
Nay, let me alone for swearing.
Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behavior
of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good
capacity and breeding; his employment between his
lord and my niece confirms no less: therefore this
letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no
terror in the youth: he will find it comes from a
clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by
word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable report
of valour; and drive the gentleman, as I know his180
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.
of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good
capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his
Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this
Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror
in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole.
But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth;
set vpon Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue
the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it)
into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and
impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil
kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.
Enter Olivia, with Viola
Here he comes with your niece: give them way till
he take leave, and presently after him.
Enter Oliuia and Viola.
till he take leaue, and presently after him
I will meditate the while upon some horrid message
for a challenge.
Exeunt Sir Toby Belch, Fabian, and Maria
for a Challenge
I have said too much unto a heart of stone
And laid mine honour too unchary out:190
There's something in me that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.
And laid mine honour too vnchary on't:
There's something in me that reproues my fault:
But such a head-strong potent fault it is,
That it but mockes reproofe
With the same 'havior that your passion bears
Goes on my master's grief.
Goes on my Masters greefes
Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you;
And I beseech you come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,
That honour saved may upon asking give?
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you:
And I beseech you come againe to morrow.
What shall you aske of me that Ile deny,
That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue
Nothing but this; your true love for my master.
How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you?
Which I haue giuen to you
Well, come again to-morrow: fare thee well:
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.
A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to hell.
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Fabian
Gentleman, God save thee.
Enter Toby and Fabian.
And you, sir.
That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what
nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know210
not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as
the hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end:
dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for
thy assailant is quick, skilful and deadly.
nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not:
but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hunter,
attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke,
be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skilfull,
You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel
to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from
any image of offence done to any man.
to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from
any image of offence done to any man
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 what220
youth, strength, skill and wrath can furnish man withal.
you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard:
for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill,
and wrath, can furnish man withall
I pray you, sir, what is he?
He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier and on
carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private
brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and
his incensement at this moment is so implacable,
that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death
and sepulchre. Hob, nob, is his word; give't or take't.
on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall,
soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and 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: giu't or take't
I will return again into the house and desire some
conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard230
of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on
others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man
of that quirk.
some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard
of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on others,
to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that
Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a
very competent injury: therefore, get you on and
give him his desire. Back you shall not to the
house, unless you undertake that with me which with
as much safety you might answer him: therefore, on,
or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you
must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.
computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him
his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you
vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you
might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword
starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or forsweare
to weare iron about you
This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me
this courteous office, as to know of the knight what
my offence to him is: it is something of my
negligence, nothing of my purpose.
me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what
my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence,
nothing of my purpose
I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this
gentleman till my return.
Gentleman, till my returne.
Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a
mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more.
a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance
I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by
his form, as you are like to find him in the proof
of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful,
bloody and fatal opposite that you could possibly
have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk
towards him? I will make your peace with him if I
by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of
his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, &
fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie
part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make
your peace with him, if I can
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.
that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care
not who knowes so much of my mettle.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, with Sir Andrew
Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a
firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard and
all, and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal
motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he
pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they
step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.
Enter Toby and Andrew.
a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all:
and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion
that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as
surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They
say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy
Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.
Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can
scarce hold him yonder.
Fabian can scarse hold him yonder
Plague on't, an I thought he had been valiant and so270
cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld
have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip,
and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.
and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere
I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and
Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet
I'll make the motion: stand here, make a good show
on't: this shall end without the perdition of souls.
Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.
Enter Fabian and Viola
I have his horse to take up the quarrel:
I have persuaded him the youth's a devil.
shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules,
marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you.
Enter Fabian and Viola.
I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded
him the youths a diuell
He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and
looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.
lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles
[To Viola] There's no remedy, sir; he will fight
with you for's oath sake: marry, he hath better
bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now
scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for
the supportance of his vow; he protests he will not hurt you.
oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his
quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth talking
of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe,
he protests he will not hurt you
[Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would
make me tell them how much I lack of a man.
me tell them how much I lacke of a man
Give ground, if you see him furious.
Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman
will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you;290
he cannot by the duello avoid it: but he has
promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he
will not hurt you. Come on; to't.
will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you:
he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised
me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt
you. Come on, too't
Pray God, he keep his oath!
I do assure you, 'tis against my will.
Put up your sword. If this young gentleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me:
If you offend him, I for him defy you.
Haue done offence, I take the fault on me:
If you offend him, I for him defie you
You, sir! why, what are you?
One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more300
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Then you haue heard him brag to you he will
Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.
O good Sir Toby, hold! here come the officers.
I'll be with you anon.
Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
Marry, will I, sir; and, for that I promised you,
I'll be as good as my word: he will bear you easily
and reins well.
be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and
This is the man; do thy office.
Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino.
You do mistake me, sir.
No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well,
Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.
Take him away: he knows I know him well.
Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head:
Take him away, he knowes I know him well
I must obey.
This comes with seeking you:
But there's no remedy; I shall answer it.
What will you do, now my necessity
Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me
Much more for what I cannot do for you320
Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed;
But be of comfort.
But there's no remedie, I shall answer it:
What will you do: now my necessitie
Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd,
But be of comfort
Come, sir, away.
I must entreat of you some of that money.
What money, sir?
For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability
I'll lend you something: my having is not much;
I'll make division of my present with you:330
Hold, there's half my coffer.
For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my leane and low ability
Ile lend you something: my hauing is not much,
Ile make diuision of my present with you:
Hold, there's halfe my Coffer
Will you deny me now?
Is't possible that my deserts to you
Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,
Lest that it make me so unsound a man
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
That I have done for you.
Ist possible that my deserts to you
Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery,
Least that it make me so vnsound a man
As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses
That I haue done for you
I know of none;
Nor know I you by voice or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man340
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.
Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabites our fraile blood
O heavens themselves!
Come, sir, I pray you, go.
Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here
I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death,
Relieved him with such sanctity of love,
And to his image, which methought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death,
Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of loue;
And to his image, which me thought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I deuotion
What's that to us? The time goes by: away!
But O how vile an idol proves this god
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
In nature there's no blemish but the mind;
None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind:
Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil
Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil.
Thou hast Sebastian done good feature, shame.
In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde:
None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde.
Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill
Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill
The man grows mad: away with him! Come, come, sir.
Come, come sir
Lead me on.
Exit with Officers
Methinks his words do from such passion fly,360
That he believes himself: so do not I.
Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!
That he beleeues himselfe, so do not I:
Proue true imagination, oh proue true,
That I deere brother, be now tane for you
Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian: we'll
whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes
He named Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet living in my glass; even such and so
In favour was my brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,370
Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love.
Yet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and so
In fauour was my Brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: Oh if it proue,
Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue
A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than
a hare: his dishonesty appears in leaving his
friend here in necessity and denying him; and for
his cowardship, ask Fabian.
then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend
heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his cowardship
A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.
'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.
Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
An I do not,--
Come, let's see the event.
I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.
Act IV. Scene I. Before Olivia's house.
Enter Sebastian and Clown
Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.
Enter Sebastian and Clowne
Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow:
Let me be clear of thee.
Let me be cleere of thee