SCENE I.
Olivia's Garden.
Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabor.
Vio.
Save thee, friend, and thy musick: Dost
thou live by the tabor?
Clo.
No, sir, I live by the church7 note
.
-- 430 --
Vio.
Art thou a churchman?
Clo.
No such matter, sir; I do live by the
church: for I do live at my house, and my house
doth stand by the church.
Vio.
So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar8 note,
if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church
stands by the tabor, if thy tabor stand by the
church.
Clo.
You have said, sir.—To see this age!—
A sentence is but a cheveril glove9 note to a good wit;
How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!
Vio.
Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely
with words, may quickly make them wanton.
Clo.
I would therefore, my sister had had no
name, sir.
-- 431 --
Vio.
Why, man?
Clo.
Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally
with that word, might make my sister wanton:
But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced
them.
Vio.
Thy reason, man?
Clo.
Troth, sir, I can yield you none without
words; and words are grown so false, I am loath
to prove reason with them.
Vio.
I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and
carest for nothing.
Clo.
Not so, sir, I do care for something: but
in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if
that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would
make you invisible.
Vio.
Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool?
Clo.
No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no
folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married;
and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to
herrings, the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed,
not her fool, but her corrupter of words.
Vio.
I saw thee late at the count Orsino's.
Clo.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like
the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry,
sir, but he fool should be as oft with your master,
as with my mistress: I think, I saw your wisdom
there.
Vio.
Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more
with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.
Clo.
Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair,
send thee a beard!
Vio.
By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick
for one; though I would not have it grow on my
chin. Is thy lady within?
Clo.
Would not a pair of these have bred, sir1 note
?
-- 432 --
Vio.
Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
Clo.
I would play lord Pandarus2 note of Phrygia,
sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
Vio.
I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd.
Clo.
The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging
but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar3 note
. My
lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence
you come; who you are, and what you would, are
out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the
word is over-worn.
[Exit.
Vio.
This fellow's wise enough to play the fool;
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;
And, like the haggard4 note
, check at every feather
-- 433 --
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art:
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;
But wise men, folly-fallen5 note
, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.
Sir To.
Save you, gentleman.
Vio.
And you, sir.
Sir And.
Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Vio.
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
Sir And.
I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours6 note
.
-- 434 --
Sir To.
Will you encounter the house? my
niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be
to her7 note.
Vio.
I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she
is the list8 note of my voyage.
Sir To.
Taste your legs, sir9 note
, put them to
motion.
-- 435 --
Vio.
My legs do better understand me, sir, than
I understand what you mean by bidding me taste
my legs.
Sir To.
I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
Vio.
I will answer you with gait and entrance:
But we are prevented1 note
.
Enter Olivia and Maria.
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
odours on you!
Sir And.
That youth's a rare courtier! Rain
odours! well.
Vio.
My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your
own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear2 note
.
Sir And.
Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:—
I'll get 'em all three all ready3 note
.
Oli.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me
to my hearing.
[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria.
Give me your hand, sir.
Vio.
My duty, madam, and most humble service.
-- 436 --
Oli.
What is your name?
Vio.
Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
Oli.
My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.
Vio.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours;
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
Oli.
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
Vio.
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf:—
Oli.
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 musick from the spheres.
Vio.
Dear lady,—
Oli.
Give me leave, 'beseech you3 note
: I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here4 note
,
-- 437 --
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 knew none of yours: What might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving5 note
-- 438 --
Enough is shown; a cyprus6 note, not a bosom,
Hides my heart: So let me hear you speak7 note
.
Vio.
I pity you.
Oli.
That's a degree to love.
Vio.
No, not a grise8 note
; for 'tis a vulgar proof9 note,
That very oft we pity enemies.
Oli.
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?
[Clock strikes.
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.—
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due west.
Vio.
Then westward-hoe1 note:
-- 439 --
Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Oli.
Stay:
I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me.
Vio.
That you do think, you are not what you are.
Oli.
If I think so, I think the same of you.
Vio.
Then think you right; I am not what I am.
Oli.
I would, you were as I would have you be!
Vio.
Would it be better, madam, than I am,
I wish it might; for now I am your fool.
Oli.
O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip2 note
!
A murd'rous 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, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee so, that, maugre3 note
all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause:
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.
Vio.
By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has4 note; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone5 note.
-- 440 --
And so adieu, good madam; never more
Will I my masters tears to you deplore.
Oli.
Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may'st move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Room in Olivia's House.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian.
Sir And.
No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
Sir To.
Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
Fab.
You must needs yield your reason, sir
Andrew.
Sir And.
Marry, I saw your niece do more favours
to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed
upon me; I saw't i' the orchard.
Sir To.
Did she see thee the while6 note, old boy?
tell me that.
Sir And.
As plain as I see you now.
Fab.
This was a great argument of love in her
toward you.
Sir And.
'Slight! will you make an ass o' me?
Fab.
I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the
oaths of judgment and reason.
Sir To.
And they have been grand jury-men,
since before Noah was a sailor.
Fab.
She did show favour to the youth in your
sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse
valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone
-- 441 --
in your liver: You should then have accosted
her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from
the mint, you should have banged the youth into
dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and
this was baulked: the double gilt of this opportunity
you let time wash off, and you are now sailed
into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will
hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless
you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either
of valour, or policy.
Sir And.
And't be any way, it must be with valour;
for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist7 note
,
as a politician.
Sir To.
Why then, build me thy fortunes upon
the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's
youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places;
-- 442 --
my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself,
there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail
in man's commendation with woman, than report
of valour.
Fab.
There is no way but this, sir Andrew.
Sir And.
Will either of you bear me a challenge
to him?
Sir To.
Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst8 note
and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent,
and full of invention: taunt him with the
licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice9 note
, it
-- 443 --
shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in
thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big
enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em
down; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in
thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no
matter: About it.
Sir And.
Where shall I find you?
Sir To.
We'll call thee at the cubiculo1 note: Go.
[Exit Sir Andrew.
Fab.
This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby.
Sir To.
I have been dear to him, lad; some two
thousand strong, or so.
Fab.
We shall have a rare letter from him: but
you'll not deliver it.
Sir To.
Never trust me then; and by all means
stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and
-- 444 --
wainropes cannot hale them together2 note. For Andrew,
if he were opened, and you find so much
blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll
eat the rest of the anatomy.
Fab.
And his opposite3 note, the youth, bears in his
visage no great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria.
Sir To.
Look, where the youngest wren of nine
comes4 note
.
Mar.
If you desire the spleen, and will laugh
yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio
is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there
is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing
rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages
of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.
Sir To.
And cross-gartered?
Mar.
Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps
-- 445 --
a school i' the church.—I have dogged him, like his
murderer: He does obey every point of the letter
that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his
face into more lines, than are in the new map, with
the augmentation of the Indies5 note: you have not
seen such a thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling
things at him. I know, my lady will strike
him6 note; if she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great
favour.
Sir To.
Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Street.
Enter Antonio and Sebastian.
Seb.
I would not, by my will, have troubled you;
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.
Ant.
I could not stay behind you; my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
And not all love to see you, (though so much,
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,)
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,
Unguided, and unfriended, often prove
-- 446 --
Rough and unhospitable: My willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.
Seb.
My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make, but, thanks,
And thanks, and ever thanks: Often good turns6 note
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
But, were my worth7 note
, as is my conscience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town8 note
?
-- 447 --
Ant.
To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your lodging.
Seb.
I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame,
That do renown this city.
Ant.
'Would, you'd pardon me;
I do not without danger walk these streets:
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the Count his gallies9 note,
I did some service; of such note, indeed,
That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd.
Seb.
Belike, you slew great number of his people.
Ant.
The offence is not of such a bloody nature;
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel,
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
What we took from them; which, for traffick's sake,
Most of our city did: only myself stood out:
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,
I shall pay dear.
Seb.
Do not then walk too open.
Ant.
It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse;
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge,
-- 448 --
With viewing of the town; there shall you have me.
Seb.
Why I your purse?
Ant.
Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
You have desire to purchase; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.
Seb.
I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
an hour.
Ant.
To the Elephant.—
Seb.
I do remember.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Olivia's Garden.
Enter Olivia and Maria.
Oli.
I have sent after him: He says, he'll come1 note;
How shall I feast him? what bestow on him2 note
?
For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borrow'd.
I speak too loud.—
Where is Malvolio?—he is sad, and civil3 note
,
-- 449 --
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 possess'd4 note
madam.
Oli.
Why, what's the matter? does he rave?
Mar.
No, madam, he does nothing but smile:
your ladyship were best to have some guard about
you, if he come5 note
; for, sure the man is tainted in's
wits.
Oli.
Go call him hither.—I am as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.—
Enter Malvolio.
How now, Malvolio?
Mal.
Sweet lady, ho, ho.
[Smiles fantastically.
Oli.
Smil'st thou?
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
Mal.
Sad, lady? I could be sad: This does make
some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering;
But what of that, if it please the eye of one, it is
with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one, and
please all.
Oli.
Why, how dost thou, man? what is the
matter with thee?
Mal.
Not black in my mind, though yellow in
-- 450 --
my legs: It did come to his hands, and commands
shall be executed. I think, we do know the sweet
Roman hand.
Oli.
Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Mal.
To bed? ay, sweet-heart; and I'll come to
thee.
Oli.
God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile
so, and kiss thy hand so oft6 note?
Mar.
How do you, Malvolio?
Mal.
At your request? Yes; Nightingales answer daws.
Mar.
Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness
before my lady?
Mal.
Be not afraid of greatness:—'Twas well
writ.
Oli.
What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
Mal.
Some are born great,—
Oli.
Ha?
Mal.
Some achieve greatness,—
Oli.
What say'st thou?
Mal.
And some have greatness thrust upon them.
Oli.
Heaven restore thee!
Mal.
Remember, who commended thy yellow
stockings;—
Oli.
Thy yellow stockings?
Mal.
And wished to see thee cross-gartered.
Oli.
Cross-gartered?
Mal.
Go to: thou art made, if thou desirest to
be so;—
Oli.
Am I made?
-- 451 --
Mal.
If not, let me see thee a servant still.
Oli.
Why, this is very midsummer madness7 note
.
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Madam, the young gentleman of the count
Orsino's is returned; I could hardly entreat him
back: he attends your ladyship's pleasure.
Oli.
I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] 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.
[Exeunt Olivia and Maria.
Mal.
Oh, ho! do you come near me now? no
worse man than sir Toby to look to me? This concurs
directly with the letter; she sends him on purpose,
that I may appear stubborn to him; for she
incites me to that in the letter. Cast thy humble
slough, says she;—be opposite with a kinsman8 note
,
surly with servants,—let thy tongue tang9 note
with
arguments of state,—put thyself into the trick of
singularity;—and, consequently, sets down the
manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a
slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and
so forth. I have limed her1 note; but it is Jove's doing,
-- 452 --
and Jove make me thankful! And, when she went
away now, Let this fellow be looked to: Fellow2 note!
not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why,
every thing adheres together; that no dram of a
scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous
or unsafe circumstance,—What can be
said? Nothing, that can be, can come between
me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove,
not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian.
Sir To.
Which way is he, in the name of sanctity?
If all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and
Legion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.
Fab.
Here he is, here he is:—How is't with you,
sir? how is't with you, man?
Mal.
Go off; I discard you; let me enjoy my
private; go off.
Mar.
Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within
him! did not I tell you?—Sir Toby, my lady prays
you to have a care of him.
Mal.
Ah, ha! does she so?
Sir To.
Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal
gently with him; let me alone. How do you, Malvolio?
how is't with you? What, man! defy the
devil: consider, he's an enemy to mankind3 note
.
Mal.
Do you know what you say?
Mar.
La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how
he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched!
Fab.
Carry his water to the wise woman.
Mar.
Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow
-- 453 --
morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for
more than I'll say.
Mal.
How now, mistress?
Mar.
O lord!
Sir To.
Pr'ythee, hold thy peace; this is not the
way: Do you not see, you move him? let me alone
with him.
Fab.
No way but gentleness: gently, gently:
the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used.
Sir To.
Why, how now, my bawcock? how dost
thou, chuck?
Mal.
Sir?
Sir To.
Ay, Biddy, come with me4 note. What,
man! 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit5 note with
Satan: Hang him, foul collier6 note
!
Mar.
Get him to say his prayers; good sir Toby,
get him to pray.
Mal.
My prayers, minx?
Mar.
No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
Mal.
Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow
-- 454 --
things: I am not of your element; you shall
know more hereafter.
[Exit.
Sir To.
Is't possible?
Fab.
If this were played upon a stage now, I
could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
Sir To.
His very genius hath taken the infection
of the device, man.
Mar.
Nay, pursue him now; lest the device take
air, and taint.
Fab.
Why, we shall make him mad, indeed.
Mar.
The house will be the quieter.
Sir To.
Come, we'll have him in a dark room,
and bound. My niece is already in the belief that
he is mad; we may carry it thus, for our pleasure,
and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of
breath, prompt us to have mercy on him: at which
time, we will bring the device to the bar, and crown
thee for a finder of madmen6 note
. But see, but see.
Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.
Fab.
More matter for a May morning7 note.
-- 455 --
Sir And.
Here's the challenge, read it; I warrant,
there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Fab.
Is't so sawcy?
Sir And.
Ay, is it, I warrant him: do but read.
Sir To.
Give me. [Reads.] Youth, whatsoever
thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.
Fab.
Good, and valiant.
Sir To.
Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind,
why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason
for't.
Fab.
A good note: that keeps you from the
blow of the law.
Sir To.
Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in
my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy
throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for.
Fab.
Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less.
Sir To.
I will way-lay thee going home; where
if it be thy chance to kill me,—
Fab.
Good.
Sir To.
Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.
Fab.
Still you keep o' the windy side of the law:
Good.
Sir To.
Fare thee well; and God have mercy
upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon
mine8 note
; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself.
-- 456 --
Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy.
Andrew Ague-cheek.
Sir To.
If this letter move him not, his legs
cannot: I'll give't him.
Mar.
You may have very fit occasion for't; he
is now in some commerce with my lady, and will
by and by depart.
Sir To.
Go, sir Andrew; scout me for him at
the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailiff: so
soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou
drawest, swear horrible9 note; for it comes to pass oft,
that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent
sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation
than ever proof itself would have earned him.
Away.
Sir And.
Nay, let me alone for swearing.
[Exit.
Sir To.
Now will not I deliver his letter: for the
behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to
be of good capacity and breeding; his employment
between his lord and my niece confirms no less;
therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant,
will breed no terror in the youth, he will find it
comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his
challenge by word of mouth; set upon Ague-cheek
a notable report of valour; and drive the gentleman,
(as, I know, his youth will aptly receive it,)
into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury,
and impetuosity. This will so fright them both,
that they will kill one another by the look, like
cockatrices.
Enter Olivia and Viola.
Fab.
Here he comes with your niece: give them
way, till he take leave, and presently after him.
-- 457 --
Sir To.
I will meditate the while upon some
horrid message for a challenge.
[Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
Oli.
I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary out1 note:
There's something in me, that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.
Vio.
With the same 'haviour that your passion bears,
Go on my master's griefs.
Oli.
Here, wear this jewel for me2 note
, tis my picture;
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you:
And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny;
That honour, sav'd, may upon asking give?
Vio.
Nothing but this, your true love for my master.
Oli.
How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you?
Vio.
I will acquit you.
Oli.
Well, come again to-morrow: Fare thee well;
A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell.
[Exit.
Re-enter Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian.
Sir To.
Gentleman, God save thee.
Vio.
And you, sir.
Sir To.
That defence thou hast, betake thee
-- 458 --
to't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done
him, I know not; but thy intercepter3 note, full of despight,
bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the
orchard end: dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy
preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and
deadly.
Vio.
You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man hath
any quarrel to me; my remembrance is very free
and clear from any image of offence done to any
man.
Sir To.
You'll find it otherwise, I assure you:
therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake
you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him
what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish
man withal.
Vio.
I pray you, sir, what is he?
Sir To.
He is knight, dubbed with unhatch'd
rapier, and on carpet consideration4 note
; but he is a
-- 459 --
devil in private brawl: souls and bodies hath he
divorced three; and his incensement at this moment
is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none
but by pangs of death and sepulchre: hob, nob5 note
, is
his word; give't, or take't.
-- 460 --
Vio.
I will return again into the house, and desire
some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I
have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels
purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike,
this is a man of that quirk.
Sir To.
Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out
of a very competent* note injury; therefore, get you on,
and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the
house, unless you undertake that with me, which
with as much safety you might answer him: therefore,
on, or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle6 note
you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear
iron about you.
Vio.
This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech
you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the
knight what my offence to him is; it is something
of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.
Sir To.
I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you
by this gentleman till my return.
[Exit Sir Toby.
Vio.
Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
Fab.
I know, the knight is incensed against you,
even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the
circumstance more.
Vio.
I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
-- 461 --
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.
Re-enter Sir Toby, with Sir Andrew.
Sir To.
Why, man, he's a very devil7 note; I have
not seen such a firago8 note
. I had a pass with him,
rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in9 note
,
with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable;
-- 462 --
and on the answer, he pays you1 note as surely as your
feet hit the ground they step on: They say, he has
been fencer to the Sophy.
Sir And.
Pox 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 damned ere I'd have 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; this shall end without the perdition
of souls: Marry, I'll ride your horse as well
as I ride you.
[Aside.
Re-enter Fabian and Viola.
I have his horse [To Fab.] to take up the quarrel;
I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil.
Fab.
He is as horribly conceited of him2 note; and
pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.
Sir To.
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.
-- 463 --
Vio.
Pray God defend me! A little thing would
make me tell them how much I lack of a man.
[Aside.
Fab.
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 duello3 note 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.
Pray God, he keep his oath!
[Draws.
Enter Antonio.
Vio.
I do assure you, 'tis against my will.
[Draws.
Ant.
Put up your sword;—If this young gentleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me;
If you offend him, I for him defy you.
[Drawing.
Sir To.
You, sir? why, what are you?
Ant.
One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Sir To.
Nay, if you be an undertaker4 note
, I am
for you.
[Draws.
-- 464 --
Enter two Officers.
Fab.
O good sir Toby, hold; here come the
officers.
Sir To.
I'll be with you anon.
[To Antonio.
Vio.
Pray, sir, put up your sword, if you please.
[To Sir Andrew.
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.
1 Off.
This is the man; do thy office.
2 Off.
Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit
Of count Orsino.
Ant.
You do mistake me, sir.
1 Off.
No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well,
Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.—
Take him away; he knows, I know him well.
Ant.
I must obey.—This comes with seeking you;
But there's no remedy; I shall answer it.
What will you do? Now my necessity
Makes me to ask you for my purse: It grieves me
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd;
But be of comfort.
-- 465 --
2 Off.
Come, sir, away.
Ant.
I must entreat of you some of that money.
Vio.
What money, sir?
For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability
I'll lend you something: my having is not much5 note;
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 you
Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,
Lest that it make me so unsound a man,
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
That I have done for you.
Vio.
I know of none;
Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.
Ant.
O heavens themselves!
2 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;
Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love,—
And to his image, which, methought, did promise
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
1 Off.
What's that to us? The time goes by; away.
Ant.
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;
-- 466 --
Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous-evil
Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil5 note
.
1 Off.
The man grows mad; away with him.
Come, come, sir.
Ant.
Lead me on.
[Exeunt Officers, with Antonio.
Vio.
Methinks, his words do from such passion fly,
That he believes himself; so do not I6 note.
Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!
Sir To.
Come hither, knight; come hither,
Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most
sage saws.
Vio.
He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know
Yet living in my glass7 note
; even such, and so,
In favour was my brother; and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!
[Exit.
-- 467 --
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,—
[Exit.
Fab.
Come, let's see the event.
Sir To.
I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing
yet.
[Exeunt.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
