OLIVIA’S house.
[Enter MARIA and Clown]
MARIA Nay, either tell me where thou hast been,
or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may
enter in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee
for thy absence.
Clown Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in
this world needs to fear no colours.
MARIA Make that good.
Clown He shall see none to fear.
MARIA A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where
that saying was born, of ‘I fear no colours.’
Clown Where, good Mistress Mary?
MARIA In the wars;
and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
Clown Well, God give them wisdom that have it;
and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
MARIA Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent;
or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging
to you?
Clown Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage;
and, for turning away, let summer bear it out.
MARIA You are resolute, then?
Clown Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.
MARIA That if one break, the other will hold; or,
if both break, your gaskins fall.
Clown 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.
MARIA Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that. Here comes
my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
[Exit]
Clown 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, may
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!
OLIVIA Take the fool away.
Clown
Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
OLIVIA Go to, you’re a dry fool;
I’ll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest.
Clown 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 mend
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
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.
OLIVIA Sir, I bade them take away you.
Clown 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.
OLIVIA Can you do it?
Clown Dexterously, good madonna.
OLIVIA Make your proof.
Clown I must catechise you for it, madonna:
good my mouse of virtue, answer me.
OLIVIA Well, sir, for want of other idleness,
I’ll bide your proof.
Clown Good madonna, why mournest thou?
OLIVIA Good fool, for my brother’s death.
Clown I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
OLIVIA I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
Clown The more fool, madonna, to mourn for
your brother’s soul being in heaven. Take away
the fool, gentlemen.
OLIVIA What think you of this fool, Malvolio?
doth he not mend?
MALVOLIO Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death
shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever
make the better fool.
Clown 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.
OLIVIA How say you to that, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO I marvel your ladyship takes delight in
such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other
day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain
than a stone. Look you now, he’s out of his guard
already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to
him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men,
that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better
than the fools’ zanies.
OLIVIA 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.
Clown Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for
thou speakest well of fools!
[Re-enter MARIA]
MARIA Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman
much desires to speak with you.
OLIVIA From the Count Orsino, is it?
MARIA I know not,
madam: ’tis a fair young man, and well attended.
OLIVIA Who of my people hold him in delay?
MARIA Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
OLIVIA Fetch him off, I pray you;
he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him!
[Exit MARIA]
Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I
am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.
[Exit MALVOLIO]
Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old,
and people dislike it.
Clown Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy
eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram
with brains! for,–here he comes,–one of thy kin has
a most weak pia mater.
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH]
OLIVIA By mine honour, half drunk.
What is he at the gate, cousin?
SIR TOBY BELCH A gentleman.
OLIVIA A gentleman! what gentleman?
SIR TOBY BELCH ‘Tis a gentle man here–a plague
o’ these pickle-herring! How now, sot!
Clown Good Sir Toby!
OLIVIA Cousin, cousin,
how have you come so early by this lethargy?
SIR TOBY BELCH Lechery! I defy lechery.
There’s one at the gate.
OLIVIA Ay, marry, what is he?
SIR TOBY BELCH Let him be the devil, an he will,
I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.
[Exit]
OLIVIA What’s a drunken man like, fool?
Clown 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.
OLIVIA Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit
o’ my coz; for he’s in the third degree of drink, he’s
drowned: go, look after him.
Clown He is but mad yet, madonna;
and the fool shall look to the madman.
[Exit]
[Re-enter MALVOLIO]
MALVOLIO Madam, yond young fellow swears he
will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he
takes on him to understand so much, and therefore
comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleep;
he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and
therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be
said to him, lady? he’s fortified against any denial.
OLIVIA Tell him he shall not speak with me.
MALVOLIO Has been told so; and he says, he’ll
stand at your door like a sheriff’s post, and be
the supporter to a bench, but he’ll speak with you.
OLIVIA What kind o’ man is he?
MALVOLIO Why, of mankind.
OLIVIA What manner of man?
MALVOLIO Of very ill manner; he’ll speak with you,
will you or no.
OLIVIA Of what personage and years is he?
MALVOLIO Not yet old enough for a man,
nor young 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.
OLIVIA Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
MALVOLIO Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
[Exit]
[Re-enter MARIA]
OLIVIA
Give me my veil: come, throw it o’er my face.
We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.
[Enter VIOLA, and Attendants]
VIOLA
The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
OLIVIA Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
Your will?
VIOLA Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,
–I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house,
for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away
my speech, for besides that it is excellently well
penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very
comptible, even to the least sinister usage.
OLIVIA Whence came you, sir?
VIOLA I can say little more than I have studied,
and that question’s out of my part. Good gentle
one, give me modest assurance if you be the lady
of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.
OLIVIA Are you a comedian?
VIOLA No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very
fangs of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you
the lady of the house?
OLIVIA If I do not usurp myself, I am.
VIOLA Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours
to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
on with my speech in your praise, and then show
you the heart of my message.
OLIVIA Come to what is important in’t: I forgive
you the praise.
VIOLA Alas, I took great pains to study it,
and ’tis poetical.
OLIVIA It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you,
keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates,
and 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.
MARIA Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.
VIOLA No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little
longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet
lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger.
OLIVIA Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver,
when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
VIOLA It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.
OLIVIA Yet you began rudely. What are you?
what would you?
VIOLA The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears,
divinity, to any other’s, profanation.
OLIVIA
Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
[Exeunt MARIA and Attendants]
Now, sir, what is your text?
VIOLA Most sweet lady,–
OLIVIA A comfortable doctrine, and much may be
said of it. Where lies your text?
VIOLA In Orsino’s bosom.
OLIVIA In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?
VIOLA
To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
OLIVIA
O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
VIOLA Good madam, let me see your face.
OLIVIA Have you any commission from your lord to
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?
[Unveiling]
VIOLA Excellently done, if God did all.
OLIVIA
‘Tis in grain, sir; ’twill endure wind and weather.
VIOLA ‘Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell’st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave
And leave the world no copy.
OLIVIA O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will
give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
inventoried, and every particle and utensil
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?
VIOLA 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!
OLIVIA How does he love me?
VIOLA With adorations, fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
OLIVIA
Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him:
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
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.
VIOLA 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.
OLIVIA Why, what would you?
VIOLA 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!
OLIVIA You might do much.
What is your parentage?
VIOLA Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.
OLIVIA Get you to your lord;
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
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.
VIOLA I am no fee’d post, lady; keep your purse:
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
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.
[Exit]
OLIVIA ‘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. How now!
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!
[Re-enter MALVOLIO]
MALVOLIO Here, madam, at your service.
OLIVIA Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county’s man: he left this ring behind him,
Would I or not: tell him I’ll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
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.
MALVOLIO Madam, I will.
[Exit]
OLIVIA 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.
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