Twelfth Night; or, What You Will

Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he?

Fab. 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 can.

Vio. I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II

Olivia's Garden.

Enter Sir Toby, with Sir Andrew, in a great fright.

Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil; —

Sir And. Oh!

Sir To. I have not seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, – rapier, scabbard, and all, – and he gives me the stuck-in, —

Sir And. Oh!

Sir To. With such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable: they say, he has been fencer to the Sophy.

Sir And. Plague on't, I'll not meddle with him.

Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.

Sir And. Plague on't; an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damn'd ere I had challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

Sir To. I'll make the motion: Stand here, make a good show on't. – [Aside.] Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

Enter Fabian and Viola.

I have his horse [To Fabian.] to take up the quarrel; I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil.

Fab. [To Sir Toby.] He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants, as if a bear were at his heels.

Sir To. [To Viola.] There's no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for his 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.

Vio. [Draws her Sword.] Pray heaven defend me! – [Aside.] A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.

Fab. [To Viola.] Give ground, if you see him furious.

Sir To. Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you: 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.

Sir And. [Draws.] Pray heaven, he keep his oath!

Vio. I do assure you, 'tis against my will.

[They fight.– Sir Toby and Fabian urge on Sir Andrew and Viola.

Enter Antonio, who runs between Sir Andrew and Viola.

Ant. Put up your sword; – If this young gentlemanHave done offence, I take the fault on me;If you offend him, I for him defy you.Sir To. You, sir? Why, what are you?Ant. [Draws.] One, sir, that for his love dares yet do moreThan you have heard him brag to you he will.Sir To. [Draws.] Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

[Sir Toby and Antonio fight.]

[Sir Andrew hides himself behind the Trees. – Viola retires a little.]

Fab. [Parts them.] O good Sir Toby, hold; here come the officers.

Sir To. [To Antonio.] I'll be with you anon. [Antonio shows great alarm– Sir Toby sheathes his sword.] – Sir knight, – Sir Andrew, —

Sir And. Here I am.

Sir To. What, man! – Come on. [Brings Sir Andrew forward.]

Vio. [Advances.] 'Pray, sir, [To Sir Andrew.] put up your sword, if you please.

Sir And. 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.

Enter two Officers of Justice.

1 Off. This is the man; do thy office.2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suitOf Duke Orsino.Ant. You do mistake me, sir.1 Off. No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well. —Take him away; he knows, I know him well.Ant. I must obey. – This comes with seeking you;But there's no remedy.Now my necessityMakes me to ask you for my purse: It grieves meMuch more, for what I cannot do for you,Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed;But be of comfort.1 Off. Come, sir, away.Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money.Vio. What money, sir?For the fair kindness you have showed me here,And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,Out of my lean and low abilityI'll lend you something: my having is not much;I'll make division of my present with you;Hold, there is half my coffer.Ant. Will you deny me now?Is't possible, that my deserts to youCan lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery;Lest that it make me so unsound a man,As to upbraid you with those kindnessesThat I have done for you.Vio. I know of none;Nor know I you by voice, or any feature.Ant. O heavens themselves!1 Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go.Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here,I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death;And to his image, which, methought, did promiseMost venerable worth, did I devotion.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-evilAre empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil.

[Exeunt Antonio and Officers.

Sir To. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian.

[They retire together.

Vio. He named Sebastian; I my brother knowYet living in my glass; even such, and so,In favour was my brother; and he wentStill in this fashion, colour, ornament;For him I imitate: O, if it prove,Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!

[Exit Viola.

[They advance.]

Sir To. 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.

Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.

Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him.

Sir To. Do, cuff him soundly; – but never draw thy sword.

Sir And. An I do not! —

[Exeunt.

SCENE III

The Street before Olivia's House.

Enter Sebastian and Clown.

Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not sent for you?

Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; Let me be clear of thee.

Clo. Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither: – Nothing, that is so, is so.

Seb. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else; – Thou know'st not me.

Clo. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some great man, and now applies it to a fool. – I pr'ythee, tell me what I shall vent to my lady; Shall I vent to her, that thou art coming?

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me; There's money for thee; if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.

Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand: – These wise men, that give fools money, get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.

Enter Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? There's for you.

[Striking Sebastian.

Seb. [Draws his sword.] Why, there's for thee, and there, and there: – Are all the people mad?

[Beating Sir Andrew.

Enter Sir Toby and Fabian.

Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

Clo. This will I tell my lady straight – I would not be in some of your coats for two-pence.

[Exit Clown.

Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. [Holding Sebastian.

Sir And. Nay, let him alone. I'll go another way to work with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that.

Seb. Let go thy hand.

Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well flesh'd; come on.

Seb. [Disengages himself.] I will be free from thee.

– What would'st thou now?

If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.

Sir To. What, what? – [Draws.] – Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

[They fight.

Enter Olivia, and two Servants.

Fab. Hold, good Sir Toby, hold: – my lady here!

[Exit Fabian.

Oli. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, hold.Sir To. Madam?Oli. 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! —Sir To. Come along, knight.

[Exit Sir Toby.

Oli. And you, sir, follow him.Sir And. Oh, oh! – Sir Toby, —

[Exit Sir Andrew.

Oli. I pr'ythee, gentle friend,Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, swayIn this uncivil and unjust extentAgainst thy peace. Go with me to my house;And hear thou there how many fruitless pranksThis ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou therebyMay'st smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go;Do not deny.Seb. What relish is in this? how runs the stream?Or I am mad, or else this is a dream: —Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee: 'Would thou'dst be ruled by me!Seb. Madam, I will.Oli. O, say so, and so be!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV

A Gallery in Olivia's House.

Enter Maria, with a black Gown and Hood, and Clown.

Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown and hood; make him believe, thou art Sir Topas the curate; do it quickly: I'll call Sir Toby the whilst.

[Exit Maria.

Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown.

Enter Sir Toby and Maria.

Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson.

Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, That, that is, is; so I, being master parson, am master parson: For what is that, but that? and is, but is?

Sir To. To him, Sir Topas.

Clo. [Opens the door of an inner Room] What, hoa, I say, – Peace in this prison!

Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

Mal. [In the inner Room.] Who calls there?

Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.

Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

Sir To. Well said, master parson.

Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wrong'd; good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have bound me, hand and foot, and laid me here in hideous darkness.

Clo. Say'st thou, that house is dark?

Mal. As hell, Sir Topas.

Clo. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness, but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled, than the Egyptians in their fog.

Mal. I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there was never man thus abused: I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question.

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild-fowl?

Mal. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion?

Mal. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.

Clo. Fare thee well: Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.

Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, —

Sir To. My most exquisite Sir Topas, —

Clo. Nay, I am for all waters. [Takes off the gown and hood, and gives them to Maria.]

Mar. Thou might'st have done this without thy hood and gown; he sees thee not.

Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring us word how thou find'st him: Come by and by to my chamber.

[Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria.

Clo. [Sings.] Hey Robin, jolly Robin,Tell me how thy lady does.

Mal. Fool, – fool, – good fool, —

Clo. Who calls, ha?

Mal. As ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper; as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.

Clo. Master Malvolio!

Mal. Ay, good fool.

Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?

Mal. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

Clo. But as well! then you are mad, indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.

Mal. Good fool, some ink, paper, and light, and convey what I will set down to my lady; it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.

Clo. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad, indeed? or do you but counterfeit?

Mal. Believe me, I am not: I tell thee true.

Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.

Mal. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree. I pr'ythee, be gone.

Clo. [Shuts the door of the inner Room, and sings.]I am gone, sir,And anon, sir,I'll be with you again, &c.

[Exit.

SCENE V

Olivia's Garden.

Enter Sebastian.

Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun;This pearl she gave me, I do feel't, and see't:And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then?I could not find him at the Elephant;His counsel now might do me golden service:For though my soul disputes well with my sense,That this may be some error, but no madness,Yet doth this accident and flood of fortuneSo far exceed all instance, all discourse,That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,And wrangle with my reason, that persuades meTo any other trust, but that I am mad,Or else the lady's mad. – But here she comes.

Enter Olivia, and a Friar.

Oli. 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;That my most jealous and too doubtful soulMay live at peace: He shall conceal it,Whiles you are willing it shall come to note;What time we will our celebration keepAccording to my birth. – What do you say?

Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

Oli. Then lead the way, good father:

[Exit Friar.

And heavens so shine,That they may fairly note this act of mine!

[Exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH

SCENE I

The Street before Olivia's House.

Enter Clown and Fabian.

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.

Clo. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.

Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again. – The Duke Orsino.

[Exit Fabian.

Enter Duke, Viola, and two Gentlemen.

Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friend? – I know thee well: How dost thou, my good fellow?

Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.

Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

Clo. No, sir, the worse.

Duke. How can that be?

Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly, I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why, then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.

Duke. Why, this is excellent.

Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends.

Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there's gold.

Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.

Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.

Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double dealer; there's another.

Clo. Primo, Secundo, —Tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all.

Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw: if you will let your lady know, I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.

Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty, till I come again: As you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon.

[Exit Clown.

Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.Duke. That face of his I do remember well;Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'dAs black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war:A bawbling vessel was he captain of,For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable:With which such scathful grapple did he makeWith the most noble bottom of our fleet,That very envy, and the tongue of loss,Cried fame and honour on him. —

Enter Antonio and Officers.

What's the matter?1 Off. This, please you, sir, is that Antonio,That took the Phœnix, and her fraught, from Candy;And this is he, that did the Tiger board,When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and state,In private brabble did we apprehend him.Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side;But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me,I know not what 'twas, but distraction.Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief!What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies,Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear,Hast made thine enemies?Ant. Orsino, noble sir,Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me;Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate,Though, I confess, on base and ground enough,Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:That most ingrateful boy there, by your side,From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouthDid I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:His life I gave him, and for his sake too,Did I expose myselfInto the danger of this adverse town:Drew to defend him, when he was beset;Where being apprehended, his false cunning,(Not meaning to partake with me in danger,)Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,And grew a twenty-years removed thing,While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,Which I had recommended to his useNot half an hour before.Vio. How can this be?Duke. When came he to this town?Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months before,(No interim, not a minute's vacancy,)Both day and night did we keep company.Duke. Here comes the countess; now heaven walks on earth. —But for thee; fellow, fellow, thy words are madness:But more of that anon. – Take him aside.

[Antonio and Officers retire a little.

Enter Olivia and two Servants.

Oli. What would my lord, but that he may not have,Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? —Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.Vio. Madam?Duke. Gracious Olivia, —Oli. What do you say, Cesario?Vio. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,It is as harsh and fulsome to mine ear,As howling after music.Duke. Still so cruel?Oli. Still so constant, lord.Duke. What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady,To whose ingrate and unauspicious altarsMy soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out,That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death,Kill what I love?But hear me this:Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still;But this your minion, whom, I see, you love,And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. —Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief.I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,To spite a raven's heart within a dove.

[Exeunt Duke and Gentlemen.

Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

[Going.

Oli. Where goes Cesario?Vio. After him I love,More than I love these eyes, more than my life;If I do feign, you witnesses above,Punish my life, for tainting of my love!Oli. Ah me, forsaken! how am I beguiled!Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? —Call forth the holy father.

[Exeunt two Servants.

Enter Duke.

Duke. [To Viola.] Come away.Oli. Whither, my lord? – Cesario, husband, stay.Duke. Husband?Oli. Ay, husband: Can he that deny?Duke. Her husband, sirrah?Vio. No, my lord, not I.Oli. Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up;Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou artAs great as that thou fear'st.

Enter Friar and two Servants.

O, welcome, father! —Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,Here to unfold (though lately we intendedTo keep in darkness, what occasion nowReveals before 'tis ripe,) what thou dost know,Hath newly past between this youth and me.Friar. A contract of eternal bond of love,Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;And all the ceremonySeal'd in my function, by my testimony:Since when, toward my graveI have travell'd but two hours.Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be,When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet,Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.Vio. My lord, I do protest, —Oli. O, do not swear;Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

[Olivia sends away the Friar.

Enter Sir Andrew, crying, with his Head broke.

Sir And. O, O, – For the love of heaven, a surgeon; send one presently to Sir Toby.

Oli. What's the matter?

Sir And. He has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of heaven, your help: I had rather than forty pound I were at home.

Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario: We took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

Duke. My gentleman, Cesario?

Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is: – You broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby.

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me, without cause; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.