Clown.
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 hanged in this
world needs to fear note no colours note.
Mar.
Make that good.
Clo.
He shall see none to fear.
Mar.
A good lenten note answer: I can tell thee where that
saying was born, of ‘I fear no colours.’
Clo.
Where, good Mistress Mary?
Mar.
In the wars; and that may you be bold to say
in your foolery.
Clo.
Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and
those that are fools, let them use their talents.
Mar.
Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent;
or, to be note turned away, is not that as good as a
hanging to you?
Clo.
Many note a good hanging prevents a bad marriage;
and, for turning away note, let summer bear it out.
Mar.
You note are resolute, then?
Clo.
Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.
-- 234 --
Mar.
That if one break, the other will hold; or, if
both break, your gaskins note fall.
Clo.
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.
Mar.
Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes
my lady: make your excuse wisely, you note were best.
[Exit. note
note
Clo.
Wit, an't note be thy will, put me into good note folling!
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 note Lady Olivia with Malvolio.
God bless thee, lady!
Oli.
Take the fool away.
Clo.
Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
Oli.
Go to, you're note a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides,
you grow dishonest.
Clo.
Two faults, madonna note, 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 note
but calamity, so beauty's a flower. 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 to say as I wear note not
motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to
prove you a fool.
-- 235 --
Oli.
Can you do it?
Clo.
Dexteriously note, good madonna.
Oli.
Make your proof.
Clo.
I must catechize you for it, madonna: good my
mouse note of virtue, answer me note.
Oli.
Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide note your
proof.
Clo.
Good madonna, why mournest 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 note, 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 note fool.
Clo.
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.
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 note 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 note wise men note, that crow so at these set kind of fools,
no better note than the fools' zanies.
Oli.
O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless note and
-- 236 --
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.
Clo.
Now Mercury endue thee with leasing note, for thou
speakest well of fools!
Re-enter Maria. note
Mar.
Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman
much desires to speak with you.
Oli.
From the Count note Orsino, is it?
Mar.
I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and
well attended.
Oli.
Who of my people hold him in delay?
Mar.
Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman note.
Oli.
Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but
madman: fie on him! [Exit Maria note.] Go you, Malvolio:
if it be a suit from the count note, I am sick, or not at home;
what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio note.] Now you note
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; whose skull Jove cram with brains! for,—
here he comes,— noteone of thy kin has note a most weak pia mater.
noteEnter note Sir Toby.
Oli.
By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the
gate, cousin note?
Sir To.
A gentleman.
Oli.
A gentleman! what gentleman?
Sir to.
'Tis a gentleman here— notea plague o' these pickle-herring note!
How now, sot!
-- 237 --
Clo.
Good Sir Toby!
Oli.
Cousin, cousin note, 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 note he will, I care not:
give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.
[Exit.
Oli.
What's a drunken man like, fool?
Clo.
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.
Oli.
Go thou and seek the crowner note, and let him sit o'
my coz note; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drowned:
go, look after him.
Clo.
He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall
look to the madman.
[Exit. note
Re-enter Malvolio. note
Mal.
Madam, yond note 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.
Oli.
Tell him he shall not speak with me.
Mal.
Has note been told so; and he says, he'll stand at
your door like a sheriff's post, and be note the supporter to note a
bench, but he'll speak with you.
Oli.
What kind o' note man is he?
Mal.
Why, of mankind.
Oli.
What manner of man?
Mal.
Of very ill manner note; he'll speak with you, will
you or no.
-- 238 --
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 codling
when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him in note 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.
Oli.
Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
Mal.
Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
[Exit.
noteRe-enter Maria. note
Oli.
Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
Enter Viola note, and Attendants. note
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 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 note, even to the least sinister usage.
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, that I
may proceed in my note speech.
Oli.
Are you a comedian?
Vio.
No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very
fangs note of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you
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;
-- 239 --
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.
Oli.
Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the
praise.
Vio.
Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis
poetical.
Oli.
It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you, keep
it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and note allowed
your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you.
If you be not mad note, be gone; if you have reason, be brief:
'tis not that time of moon note with me to make one in so skipping
a dialogue.
Mar.
Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.
Vio.
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 note.
Oli.
Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver,
when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
Vio.
It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture
of war, no taxation note of homage: I hold the olive note in my
hand; my words are as full of peace as matter.
Oli.
Yet you began rudely. What are you? what
would you?
Vio.
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 note note; to your ears, divinity,
to any other's note, profanation.
Oli.
Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
[Exeunt Maria and Attendants. note]
Now, sir, what is your text?
-- 240 --
Vio.
Most sweet lady,—
Oli.
A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of
it. Where lies your text note?
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 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 note not well done?
[Unveiling. note
Vio.
Excellently done, if God did all.
Oli.
'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
Vio.
'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.
Oli.
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 note me?
Vio.
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 note be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
-- 241 --
The nonpareil of beauty!
Oli.
How does he love me?
Vio.
With adorations, fertile note tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Oli.
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 note yet 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? note
Vio.
Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons note of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Halloo note your name to the reverberate note 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? note
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:
-- 242 --
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.
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! note
Unless the master were the man note. 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. note
Mal.
Here, madam, at your service.
Oli.
Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's note man: he left note 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 note, Malvolio.
Mal.
Madam, I will.
[Exit.
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 note;
What is decreed must be, and be this so.
[Exit note.
-- 243 --
William Aldis Wright [1863–1866], The works of William Shakespeare edited by William George Clark... and John Glover [and William Aldis Wright] (Macmillan and Co., London) [word count] [S10701].
