_A Room in_ OLIVIA'S _House_.
_Enter_ CLOWN _and_ MARIA.
_Mar._ 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.
_Clo._ Let her hang me: he, that is well hang'd in this world, needs
to fear no colours.
_Mar._ Make that good.
_Clo._ He shall see none to fear.
_Mar._ A good lenten answer: Yet you will be hang'd, for being so
long absent; or, to be turn'd away; is not that as good as a hanging to
you?
_Clo._ Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning
away, let summer bear it out.
_Mar._ Here comes my lady; make your excuse wisely, you were best.
[_Exit_ MARIA.
_Clo._ Wit, and'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, MALVOLIO, _and two Servants_.
Bless thee, lady!
_Oli._ Take the fool away.
_Clo._ Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
_Oli._ Go to, you're a dry fool: I'll no more of you; besides, you
grow dishonest.
_Clo._ 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.--The lady bade take away the fool;
therefore, I say again, take her away.
_Oli._ Sir, I bade them take away you.
_Clo._ Misprision in the highest degree!--Lady, _Cucullus non facit
monachum_; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good
madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.
_Oli._ Can you do it?
_Clo._ Dexterously, good madonna.
_Oli._ Make your proof.
_Clo._ I must catechize you for it, madonna: Good my mouse of
virtue, answer me.
_Oli._ Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 'bide your proof.
_Clo._ Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?
_Oli._ Good fool, for my brother's death.
_Clo._ I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.
_Oli._ I know, his soul is in heaven, fool.
_Clo._ The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul
being in heaven.--Take away the fool, gentlemen.
_Oli._ What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?
_Mal._ Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him:
Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.
_Clo._ Heaven 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.
_Oli._ How say you to that, Malvolio?
_Mal._ 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 gagg'd.--I protest, I take
these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than
the fools' zanies.
_Oli._ O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a
distemper'd 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 allow'd fool, though he do
nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do
nothing but reprove.
_Clo._ Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well
of fools!
_Enter_ MARIA.
_Mar._ Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, much desires
to speak with you.
_Oli._ From the Duke Orsino, is it?
_Mar._ I know not, madam.
_Oli._ Who of my people hold him in delay?
_Mar._ Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
_Oli._ Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: Fye
on him! [_Exit_ MARIA.
Go you, Malvolio:--if it be a suit from the duke, I am sick, or not at
home; what you will, to dismiss it.
[_Exeunt_ MALVOLIO, _and two Servants_.
Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
_Clo._ Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should
be a fool.
_Sir To._ [_Without._] Where is she? where is she?
_Clo._ Whose skull Jove cram with brains!--for here he comes, one of
thy kin, has a most weak _pia mater_.
_Enter_ SIR TOBY.
_Oli._ By mine honour, half drunk.--What is he at the gate, uncle?
_Sir To._ A gentleman.
_Oli._ A gentleman? What gentleman?
_Sir To._ 'Tis a gentleman here,--How now, sot?
_Clo._ Good Sir Toby,----
_Oli._ Uncle, uncle, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
_Sir To._ Lechery! I defy lechery.--There's one at the gate.
_Oli._ Ay, marry; what is he?
_Sir To._ Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me
faith, say I. Well, it's all one.--A plague o' these pickle-herrings.
[_Exit_ SIR TOBY.
_Oli._ What's a drunken man like, fool?
_Clo._ Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman; one draught above
heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.
_Oli._ Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' my uncle;
for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drown'd: go, look after
him.
_Clo._ He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the
madman. [_Exit_ CLOWN.
_Enter_ MALVOLIO.
_Mal._ 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 fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with
you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial.
_Oli._ Tell him, he shall not speak with me.
_Mal._ He has been told so; and, he says, he'll stand at your door
like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak
with you.
_Oli._ What kind of man is he?
_Mal._ Why, of man-kind.
_Oli._ What manner of man?
_Mal._ Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you, or no.
_Oli._ Of what personage, and years, is he?
_Mal._ Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as
a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a coddling when 'tis almost an
apple: 'tis with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is
very well-favour'd, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think, his
mother's milk were scarce out of him.
_Oli._ Let him approach: Call in my gentlewoman.
_Mal._ Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [_Exit_ MALVOLIO.
[Illustration]
_Enter_ MARIA.
_Oli._ Give me my veil. [_Exit_ MARIA.
What means his message to me?
I have denied his access o'er and o'er:
Then what means this?
_Enter_ MARIA, _with a Veil_.
Come, throw it o'er my face;
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
_Enter_ VIOLA.
_Vio._ The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
_Oli._ Speak to me, I shall answer for her:--Your will?
_Vio._ 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 loth to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well
penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it.
_Oli._ Whence came you, sir?
_Vio._ 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.
_Oli._ If I do not usurp myself, I am.
_Vio._ Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what
is yours to bestow, is not yours to reserve.
_Oli._ I heard you were saucy at my gates; and allow'd 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.--What are you? what would
you?
_Vio._ What I am, and what I would, are to your ears, divinity; to
any other's, profanation.
_Oli._ Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
[_Exit_ MARIA.
Now, sir, what is your text?
_Vio._ Most sweet lady,----
_Oli._ A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where
lies your text?
_Vio._ In Orsino's bosom.
_Oli._ In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
_Vio._ To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
_Oli._ O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
_Vio._ Good madam, let me see your face.
_Oli._ Have you any commission from your lord to negociate 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 as I, does this
present. [_Unveiling._
_Vio._ 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.
_Oli._ O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted.
_Vio._ My lord and master loves you; O, such love
Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
The nonpareil of beauty!
_Oli._ How does he love me?
_Vio._ With adorations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
_Oli._ Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him:
He might have took his answer long ago.
_Vio._ 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.
_Oli._ Why, what would you?
_Vio._ 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;
Holla 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.
_Oli._ You might do much:--What is your parentage?
_Vio._ Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.
_Oli._ 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.
_Vio._ 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 fervour, like my master's, be
Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [_Exit_ VIOLA.
_Oli._ 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!--
_Enter_ MALVOLIO.
_Mal._ Here, madam, at your service.
_Oli._ Run after that same peevish messenger,
Orsino'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.
_Mal._ Madam, I will. [_Exit_ MALVOLIO.
_Oli._ 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!
[_Exit._