|
2
[Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords; Musicians attending]
4
If music be the food of love, play on;
5
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
6
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
7
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
8
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
9
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
10
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
11
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
12
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
13
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
14
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
15
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
16
But falls into abatement and low price,
17
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
18
That it alone is high fantastical.
20
Will you go hunt, my lord?
26
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
27
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
28
Methought she purged the air of pestilence!
29
That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
30
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
33
How now! what news from her?
35
So please my lord, I might not be admitted;
36
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
37
The element itself, till seven years' heat,
38
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
39
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
40
And water once a day her chamber round
41
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
42
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
43
And lasting in her sad remembrance.
45
O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
46
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
47
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
48
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
49
That live in her; when liver, brain and heart,
50
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
51
Her sweet perfections with one self king!
52
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers:
53
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
2
[Enter VIOLA, a Captain, and Sailors]
4
What country, friends, is this?
8
And what should I do in Illyria?
9
My brother he is in Elysium.
10
Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors?
12
It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
14
O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.
16
True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
17
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
18
When you and those poor number saved with you
19
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
20
Most provident in peril, bind himself,
21
Courage and hope both teaching him the practise,
22
To a strong mast that lived upon the sea;
23
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
24
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
25
So long as I could see.
27
For saying so, there's gold:
28
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
29
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
30
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
32
Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
33
Not three hours' travel from this very place.
37
A noble duke, in nature as in name.
43
Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
44
He was a bachelor then.
46
And so is now, or was so very late;
47
For but a month ago I went from hence,
48
And then 'twas fresh in murmur,—as, you know,
49
What great ones do the less will prattle of,—
50
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
54
A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
55
That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
56
In the protection of his son, her brother,
57
Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
58
They say, she hath abjured the company
61
O that I served that lady
62
And might not be delivered to the world,
63
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
66
That were hard to compass;
67
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
70
There is a fair behavior in thee, captain;
71
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
72
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
73
I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
74
With this thy fair and outward character.
75
I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
76
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
77
For such disguise as haply shall become
78
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
79
Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him:
80
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing
81
And speak to him in many sorts of music
82
That will allow me very worth his service.
83
What else may hap to time I will commit;
84
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
86
Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
87
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
89
I thank thee: lead me on.
2
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA]
4
What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
5
her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
7
By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'
8
nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great
9
exceptions to your ill hours.
11
Why, let her except, before excepted.
13
Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest
16
Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am:
17
these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be
18
these boots too: an they be not, let them hang
19
themselves in their own straps.
21
That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard
22
my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish
23
knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.
25
Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
29
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
31
What's that to the purpose?
33
Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
35
Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats:
36
he's a very fool and a prodigal.
38
Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the
39
viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
40
word for word without book, and hath all the good
43
He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that
44
he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that
45
he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he
46
hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent
47
he would quickly have the gift of a grave.
49
By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
50
that say so of him. Who are they?
52
They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.
54
With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to
55
her as long as there is a passage in my throat and
56
drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill
57
that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn
58
o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
59
Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
62
Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch!
66
Bless you, fair shrew.
70
Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
74
My niece's chambermaid.
76
Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
80
Good Mistress Mary Accost,—
82
You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
83
her, woo her, assail her.
85
By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
86
company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'?
88
Fare you well, gentlemen.
90
An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
91
never draw sword again.
93
An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
94
draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have
97
Sir, I have not you by the hand.
99
Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
101
Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
102
your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.
103
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
104
Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor?
107
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
108
Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
109
keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?
112
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
113
Are you full of them?
115
Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
116
now I let go your hand, I am barren.
119
O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I
120
see thee so put down?
121
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
122
Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary
123
put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit
124
than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a
125
great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.
128
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
129
An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home
132
Pourquoi, my dear knight?
133
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
134
What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had
135
bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in
136
fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but
139
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
140
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
141
Why, would that have mended my hair?
143
Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
144
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
145
But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
147
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
148
hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
150
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
151
Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece
152
will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one
153
she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her.
155
She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
156
her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I
157
have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,
159
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
160
I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the
161
strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques
162
and revels sometimes altogether.
164
Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
165
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
166
As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the
167
degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare
170
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
171
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
172
Faith, I can cut a caper.
174
And I can cut the mutton to't.
175
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
176
And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong
177
as any man in Illyria.
179
Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have
180
these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to
181
take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost
182
thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in
183
a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not
184
so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What
185
dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in?
186
I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy
187
leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.
188
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
189
Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
190
flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?
192
What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?
193
Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
194
Taurus! That's sides and heart.
196
No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
197
caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!
2
[Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire]
4
If the duke continue these favours towards you,
5
Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath
6
known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
8
You either fear his humour or my negligence, that
9
you call in question the continuance of his love:
10
is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
14
I thank you. Here comes the count.
15
[Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and Attendants]
19
On your attendance, my lord; here.
21
Stand you a while aloof, Cesario,
22
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
23
To thee the book even of my secret soul:
24
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
25
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
26
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
27
Till thou have audience.
30
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
31
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
33
Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds
34
Rather than make unprofited return.
36
Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
38
O, then unfold the passion of my love,
39
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
40
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
41
She will attend it better in thy youth
42
Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.
44
I think not so, my lord.
47
For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
48
That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
49
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
50
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
51
And all is semblative a woman's part.
52
I know thy constellation is right apt
53
For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
54
All, if you will; for I myself am best
55
When least in company. Prosper well in this,
56
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
57
To call his fortunes thine.
63
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
2
[Enter MARIA and Clown]
4
Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will
5
not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in
6
way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.
8
Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
9
world needs to fear no colours.
13
He shall see none to fear.
15
A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that
16
saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.'
18
Where, good Mistress Mary?
20
In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
22
Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those
23
that are fools, let them use their talents.
25
Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or,
26
to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?
28
Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and,
29
for turning away, let summer bear it out.
31
You are resolute, then?
33
Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.
35
That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both
36
break, your gaskins fall.
38
Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if
39
Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
40
piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.
42
Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my
43
lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
46
Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!
47
Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft
48
prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may
49
pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus?
50
'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'
51
[Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO]
56
Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
58
Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
59
besides, you grow dishonest.
61
Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
62
will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
63
the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend
64
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
65
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
66
that's mended is but patched: virtue that
67
transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
68
amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
69
simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
70
what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
71
calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
72
away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.
74
Sir, I bade them take away you.
76
Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non
77
facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not
78
motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to
83
Dexterously, good madonna.
87
I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse
90
Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.
92
Good madonna, why mournest thou?
94
Good fool, for my brother's death.
96
I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
98
I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
100
The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's
101
soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
103
What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?
105
Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him:
106
infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the
109
God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the
110
better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be
111
sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his
112
word for two pence that you are no fool.
114
How say you to that, Malvolio?
116
I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
117
barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day
118
with an ordinary fool that has no more brain
119
than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard
120
already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to
121
him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men,
122
that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better
123
than the fools' zanies.
125
Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
126
with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
127
guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those
128
things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets:
129
there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do
130
nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
131
man, though he do nothing but reprove.
133
Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou
134
speakest well of fools!
137
Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much
138
desires to speak with you.
140
From the Count Orsino, is it?
142
I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.
144
Who of my people hold him in delay?
146
Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
148
Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but
151
Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I
152
am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.
154
Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and
157
Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest
158
son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with
159
brains! for,—here he comes,—one of thy kin has a
161
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH]
163
By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
167
A gentleman! what gentleman?
169
'Tis a gentle man here—a plague o' these
170
pickle-herring! How now, sot!
174
Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
176
Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.
178
Ay, marry, what is he?
180
Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
181
me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.
184
What's a drunken man like, fool?
186
Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one
187
draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads
188
him; and a third drowns him.
190
Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my
191
coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's
192
drowned: go, look after him.
194
He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look
199
Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
200
you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to
201
understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
202
with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to
203
have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
204
comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him,
205
lady? he's fortified against any denial.
207
Tell him he shall not speak with me.
209
Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your
210
door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to
211
a bench, but he'll speak with you.
213
What kind o' man is he?
219
Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no.
221
Of what personage and years is he?
223
Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for
224
a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
225
cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him
226
in standing water, between boy and man. He is very
227
well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one
228
would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
230
Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
232
Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
236
Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
237
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
238
[Enter VIOLA, and Attendants]
240
The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
242
Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
245
Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,—I
246
pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house,
247
for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away
248
my speech, for besides that it is excellently well
249
penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
250
beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very
251
comptible, even to the least sinister usage.
253
Whence came you, sir?
255
I can say little more than I have studied, and that
256
question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me
257
modest assurance if you be the lady of the house,
258
that I may proceed in my speech.
262
No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs
263
of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you
264
the lady of the house?
266
If I do not usurp myself, I am.
268
Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
269
yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
270
to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
271
on with my speech in your praise, and then show you
272
the heart of my message.
274
Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.
276
Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
278
It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you,
279
keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates,
280
and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you
281
than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if
282
you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of
283
moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
285
Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.
287
No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little
288
longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet
289
lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger.
291
Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when
292
the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
294
It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
295
war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
296
hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.
298
Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?
300
The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
301
learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
302
would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears,
303
divinity, to any other's, profanation.
305
Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
306
[Exeunt MARIA and Attendants]
307
Now, sir, what is your text?
311
A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.
312
Where lies your text?
316
In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?
318
To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
320
O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
322
Good madam, let me see your face.
324
Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate
325
with my face? You are now out of your text: but
326
we will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
327
Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't
331
Excellently done, if God did all.
333
'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
335
'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
336
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
337
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
338
If you will lead these graces to the grave
339
And leave the world no copy.
341
O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give
342
out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
343
inventoried, and every particle and utensil
344
labelled to my will: as, item, two lips,
345
indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to
346
them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were
347
you sent hither to praise me?
349
I see you what you are, you are too proud;
350
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
351
My lord and master loves you: O, such love
352
Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
353
The nonpareil of beauty!
357
With adorations, fertile tears,
358
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
360
Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him:
361
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
362
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
363
In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant;
364
And in dimension and the shape of nature
365
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
366
He might have took his answer long ago.
368
If I did love you in my master's flame,
369
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
370
In your denial I would find no sense;
371
I would not understand it.
375
Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
376
And call upon my soul within the house;
377
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
378
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
379
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
380
And make the babbling gossip of the air
381
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
382
Between the elements of air and earth,
383
But you should pity me!
386
What is your parentage?
388
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
391
Get you to your lord;
392
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
393
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
394
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
395
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.
397
I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
398
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
399
Love make his heart of flint that you shall love;
400
And let your fervor, like my master's, be
401
Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty.
404
'What is your parentage?'
405
'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
406
I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
407
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
408
Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast:
410
Unless the master were the man. How now!
411
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
412
Methinks I feel this youth's perfections
413
With an invisible and subtle stealth
414
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
418
Here, madam, at your service.
420
Run after that same peevish messenger,
421
The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
422
Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it.
423
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
424
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
425
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
426
I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio.
431
I do I know not what, and fear to find
432
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
433
Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe;
434
What is decreed must be, and be this so.
|
