Maria: God bless thee, lady!
Take the fool away.
Clown: Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you.
C: The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.
Sir, I bade them take away you.
C: Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.
Can you do it?
C: Dexterously, good madonna.
Make your proof.
C: I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse of virtue, answer me.
Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.
C: Good madonna, why mournest thou?
Good fool, for my brother's death.
C: I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
C: The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?
C: ... but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool.
How say you to that, Malvolio?
Malvolio: ... I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies.
Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite.
Mar: Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you.
From the Count Orsino, is it?
Mar: I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.
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.
Mal: Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. He's fortified against any denial.
Tell him he shall not speak with me.
Mal: Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, but he'll speak with you.
Of what personage and years is he?
Mal: ... one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
Mal: Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
V: The honorable lady of the house, which is she?
Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will?
V: ... I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage.
Whence came you, sir?
V: I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part.
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.
V: ... Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady.
Tell me your mind.
V: I am a messenger.
Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
V: It alone concerns your ear.
Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?
V: ... to your ears, divinity, to any other's profanation.
Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. Now, sir, what is your text?
V: Most sweet lady, --
A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text?
V: In Orsino's bosom.
In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?
V: 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?
V: 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.
V: Excellently done, if God did all.
'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure the wind and weather.
V: Lady, you are the cruelest she alive if you will lead these graces to the grave and leave the world no copy.
O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; it shall be inventoried: 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?
V: ... The nonpareil of beauty!
How does he love me?
V: With adorations, fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him. - He might have took his answer long ago.
V: ... In your denial I would find no sense; I would not understand it.
Why, what would you?
V: ... O, you should not rest between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me!
You might do much. What is your parentage?
V: Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: 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.
V: ... Farewell, fair cruelty.
'What is your parentage?'
'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast:
soft, soft!
Unless the master were the man. Ho
Mal: 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.
Mal: 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.
Andrew: 'Odours, 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em all three ready.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
Give me your hand, sir.
V: My duty, madam, and most humble service.
What is your name?
V: 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.
V: and he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
V: Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf.
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.
V: Dear lady, --
Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you:
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you
V: I pity you.
That's a degree to love.
V: No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity 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 n
V: Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
Attend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Stay:
I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.
V: That you do think you are not what you are.
If I think so, I think the same of you.
V: Then think you right: I am not what I am.
I would you were as I would have you be!
V: Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
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, honor, truth, and every thing
V: ... never more
Will I my masters tears to you deplore.
Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
Sebastian: I do remember.
Exeunt. SCENE 4
Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes:
Where is Malvolio?
Mar: He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He is, sure, possessed, madam.
Why, what's the matter? does he rave?
Mar: ... if he 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.
Mal: Sweet lady, ho, ho.
Smilest thou?
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
Mal: ... this cross-gartering; but what of that?
Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?
Mal: ... I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.
Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Mal: To bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee.
God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile and kiss thy hand so oft?
Mal: 'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas well writ.
What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
Mal: 'Some are born great,' --
Ha!
Mal: 'Some achieve greatness,' --
What sayest thou?
Mal: 'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'
Heaven restore thee!
Mal: 'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,' --
Thy yellow stockings!
Mal: 'And wished to see thee cross-gartered.'
Cross-gartered!
Mal: 'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so;' --
Am I made?
Mal: 'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'
Why, this is very midsummer madness.
Servant: ... he attends your ladyship's 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 the half of my dowry.
Toby: What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.
Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge thee, hold!
T: Madam!
Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight!
Be not offended, dear Cesario.
Rudesby, be gone!
I prithee, gentle friend,
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sw
S: ... If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
Nay, come, I prithee; would thou'ldst be ruled by me!
S: Madam, I will.
O, say so, and so be!
S: There's something in't that is deceivable. But here the lady comes.
Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, Now go with me and with this holy man into the chantry by. There, before him, and underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full assurance of your faith; What do you say?
S: I'll follow this good man, and go with you; and, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
Then lead the way good father; and heavens so shine that they may fairly note this act of mine.
O: ... But more of that anon. Take him aside.
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
O: Gracious Olivia, --
What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord, --
V: My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.
If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
As howling after music.
O: Still so cruel?
Still so constant, lord.
O: What, to perverseness?
Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.
V: And I, most jocund, apt and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
Where goes Cesario?
After him I love
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
Ay me, detested! how am I beguiled!
V: Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?
Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long?
Call forth the holy father.
O: Come, away!
Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.
O: Husband!
Ay, husband: can he that deny.
V: No, my lord, not I.
Fear not, Cesario; take thy fortunes up;
Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st.
O, welcome, father!
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold, what thou dost know
Hath newly pass'd between this youth
V: My lord, I do protest --
O, do not swear!
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.
A: For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently to Sir Toby.
What's the matter?
A: He has broke my head across and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too:
Who has done this, Sir Andrew?
T: Then he's a rogue, I hate a drunken rogue.
Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?
T: Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull!
Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.
Antonio: ... Which is Sebastian?
Most wonderful.
V: ... he upon some action
Is not in durance, at Malvolio's suit.
He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio hither:
And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.
How does he, sirrah?
Clown: Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the staves's end as well as a man in his case may do.
Open't, and read it.
C: ... 'By the Lord, madam,' --
How now! art thou mad?
C: ... an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox.
Prithee, read i' thy right wits.
C: So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read this: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.
Read it you, sirrah.
Fabian: ... I leave my duty a little unthought of and speak out of my injury. THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO.'
Did he write this?
O: This savours not much of distraction.
See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.
My lord so please you, these things further thought on,
To think me as well as sister as a wife.
O: ... you shall from this time be
Your master's mistress.
A sister! you are she.
O: Is this the madman?
Ay, my lord, this same.
How now, Malvolio!
Mal: Madam, you have done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.
Have I, Malvolio? no.
Mal: Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter.
Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Though, I confess, much like the character
But out of question 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was she
First told me thou wast mad; then camest in smiling.
Good madam, Maria writ
The letter at Sir Tob
Mal: I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.
He hath been most notoriously abused.