Sir Andrew.
Sir To.
Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after
midnight is to be up betimes; and ‘diluculo note surgere,’ thou
know'st,— note
Sir An.
Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know,
to be up late is to be up late.
Sir To.
A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.
To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early: so
that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes.
Does not our life note consist of the four elements?
Sir And.
Faith, so they say; but I think it rather
consists of eating and drinking.
note
Sir To.
Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and
drink. Marian note, I say! a stoup note of wine!
Enter Clown.
Sir And.
Here comes the fool, i' faith.
Clo.
How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture
of ‘we three’?
-- 247 --
Sir To.
Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.
Sir And.
By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast note.
I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so
sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast
in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of
Pigrogromitus note, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of
Queubus: 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for
thy leman note: hadst it?
Clo.
I did impeticos thy gratillity note; for Malvolio's nose
is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the
Myrmidons note are no bottle-ale houses.
Sir And.
Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when
all is done. Now, a song.
Sir To.
Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have
a song.
Sir And.
There's a testril of me too: if one knight
give a— note
Clo.
Would you have a love-song, or a song of good
life?
Sir To.
A love-song, a love-song.
Sir And.
Ay, ay: I care not for good life.
Clo. [Sings]
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; note your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers note meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.
Sir And.
Excellent good, i' faith.
Sir To.
Good, good.
Clo. [Sings]
What is love? note 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
-- 248 --
In delay note there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me note, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Sir And.
A mellifluous voice, as I am true note knight.
Sir To.
A contagious breath.
Sir And.
Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.
Sir To.
To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we
rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls note
out of one weaver? shall we do that?
Sir And.
An note you love me, let's do't: I am dog note at a
catch.
Clo.
By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch
well.
Sir And.
Most certain. Let our catch be, ‘Thou
knave.’
Clo.
‘Hold thy peace, thou knave,’ knight? note I shall be
constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.
Sir And.
'Tis not the first time I have constrained one
to call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins ‘Hold thy peace.’
Clo.
I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
Sir And.
Good, i'faith. Come, begin.
[Catch sung.
noteEnter Maria.
Mar.
What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my
lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him
turn you out of doors, never trust me.
Sir To.
My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
a Peg-a-Ramsey, and ‘Three merry men be we.’ Am
not I consanguineous? am I not note of her blood? Tillyvally.
Lady!
[Sings note]
‘There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!’
Clo.
Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
Sir And.
Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed,
-- 249 --
and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it
more natural.
Sir To. [Sings note]
‘O note, the twelfth note day of December;’,—
Mar.
For the love o' God, peace!
Enter Malvolio.
Mal.
My masters, are you mad? or what are you?
Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
tinkers at this time of night? Do ye note make an alehouse of
my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' note catches
without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no
respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
Sir To.
We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck
noteup note!
Mal.
Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady
bade me tell you, that, though note she harbours you as her
kinsman note, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you
can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are
welcome to the house; if not, an note it would please you to
take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.
note
Sir To.
‘Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.’
Mar. note
Nay, good Sir Toby.
Clo.
‘His eyes do show his days are almost done.’
Mal.
Is't even so?
Sir To.
‘But I will never note die.’
Clo.
Sir Toby, there you lie.
Mal.
This is much credit to you.
Sir To.
‘Shall I bid him go?’
Clo.
‘What an note if you do?’
Sir To.
‘Shall I bid him go, and spare not?’
Clo.
‘O no, no, no, no note, you dare not.’
-- 250 --
Sir To.
Out o' tune, sir: note ye lie. Art note any more than a
steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous,
there shall be no more cakes and ale?
Clo.
Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i'
the mouth too.
Sir To.
Thou'rt note i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain note
with crums. A stoup note of wine, Maria!
Mal.
Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at
any thing more than contempt, you would not give means
for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.
[Exit.
Mar.
Go shake your ears.
Sir And.
'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a
man's a-hungry, to challenge him the field note, and then to
break promise with him and make a fool of him.
Sir To.
Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge; or
I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Mar.
Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night: since
the youth note of the count's note was to-day with my lady, she is
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone
with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword note, and make
him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough
to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it.
Sir To. note
Possess us, possess us; tell us something of
him.
Mar.
Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan note.
Sir And.
O, if I thought that, I'ld beat him like a dog!
Sir To.
What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
dear knight?
Sir And.
I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have
reason good enough.
-- 251 --
Mar.
The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly,
but a time-pleaser; an affectioned note ass, that cons
state without book note and utters it by great swarths note: the best
persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies,
that it is his grounds note of faith that all that look on
him love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge
find notable cause to work.
Sir To.
What wilt thou do?
Mar.
I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his
leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead,
and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly
personated. I can write very like my lady your niece: on
a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our
hands.
Sir To.
Excellent! I smell a device.
Sir And.
I have 't in my nose too.
Sir To.
He shall think, by the letters note that thou wilt
drop, that they come note from my niece, and that she's note in love
with him.
Mar.
My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
Sir And. note
And your horse now would make him an ass.
Mar.
Ass, I note doubt not.
Sir And.
O, 'twill be admirable!
Mar.
Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic
will work with him note. I will plant you two, and let the fool
make a third, where he shall find the letter: observe his note
construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on
the event. Farewell.
[Exit.
Sir To.
Good night, Penthesilea.
Sir And.
Before me, she's a good wench.
Sir To.
She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores
me: what o' that?
-- 252 --
Sir And.
I was adored once too.
Sir To.
Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send
for more money.
Sir And.
If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul
way out.
Sir To.
Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not
i' the end, call me cut.
Sir And.
If I do not, never trust me, take it how you
will.
Sir To.
Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too
late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.
[Exeunt.
note
Scene IV. [Footnote:
The Duke's palace. note
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.
Duke.
Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night:
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms note
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.
Cur.
He is not here, so please your lordship, that
should sing it.
Duke.
Who was it?
Cur.
Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady Olivia's
father took much delight in. He is about the house.
Duke.
Seek note him out, and play the tune the while.
[Exit Curio. note Music plays.
Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
For such I am all true lovers are,
-- 253 --
Unstaid and skittish in all motions note else,
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
Vio.
It gives a very echo to the seat note
Where Love is throned.
Duke.
Thou dost speak masterly:
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
Hath it not, boy?
Vio.
A little, by your favour.
Duke.
What kind of woman is't?
Vio.
Of your complexion.
Duke.
She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
Vio.
About your years, my lord.
Duke.
Too old, by heaven: let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn note,
Than women's are.
Vio.
I think it well, my lord.
Duke.
Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
Vio.
And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!
Re-enter note Curio and Clown.
Duke.
O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
-- 254 --
And the free note maids that weave their thread with bones
Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
And dallies note with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
Clo.
Are you ready, sir?
Duke.
Ay; prithee note, sing.
[Music.
Song.
Clo.
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly note away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare note it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where note
Sad note true lover note never note find my grave,
To weep there!
Duke.
There's for thy pains.
Clo.
No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
Duke.
I'll pay thy pleasure then.
Clo.
Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or
another note.
Duke.
Give me now leave to leave thee note.
Clo. note
Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind
is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put
-- 255 --
to sea, that their business might be every thing and their
intent every where note; for that's it that always makes a good
voyage of nothing. Farewell.
[Exit.
note
Duke.
Let all the rest give place.
[Curio and Attendants retire. note
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in note attracts my soul.
Vio.
But if she cannot love you, sir?
Duke.
I note cannot be so answer'd.
Vio.
Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd?
Duke.
There is no woman's sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,—
No motion of the liver, but the palate,— note
That suffer note surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest note as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
Vio.
Ay, but I know,—
-- 256 --
Duke.
What dost thou know?
Vio.
Too well what love women to men may owe:
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter loved a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
Duke.
And what's note her history?
Vio.
A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought;
And with a green and yellow note melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument, note
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
Duke.
But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Vio.
I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too: and yet note I know not.
Sir, shall I to this lady?
Duke.
Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My note love can give no place, bide no denay.
[Exeunt.
note
Scene V. [Footnote:
Olivia's garden. note
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Sir To.
Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
Fab.
Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport,
let me be boiled note to death with melancholy.
-- 257 --
Sir To.
Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly
rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
Fab.
I would exult, man: you know, he brought me
out o' note favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
Sir To.
To anger him we'll have the bear again; and
we will fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?
Sir And.
An note we do not, it is note pity of our lives.
Sir To.
Here comes the little villain.
Enter Maria. note
How now, my metal note of India!
Mar.
Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's
coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the sun
practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour: observe
him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter
will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the
notename of jesting! Lie thou there [throws down a letter note];
for here comes the trout that must be caught with
tickling.
[Exit.
noteEnter Malvolio.
Mal.
'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus
near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion.
Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect
than any one else that follows her. What should I think
on't?
Sir To.
Here's an overweening rogue!
Fab.
O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkeycock
of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
Sir And.
'Slight note, I could so beat the rogue!
Sir To. note
Peace, I say.
-- 258 --
Mal.
To be Count Malvolio!
Sir To.
Ah, rogue!
Sir And.
Pistol him, pistol him.
Sir To. note
Peace, peace!
Mal.
There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy note
married the yeoman of the wardrobe note.
Sir And.
Fie on him note, Jezebel!
Fab.
O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how imagination
blows him.
Mal.
Having been three months married to her, sitting
in my state,—
Sir To.
O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
Mal.
Calling my officers about me, in my branched
velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have
left Olivia sleeping,—
Sir To.
Fire and brimstone!
Fab.
O, peace, peace!
Mal.
And then to have the humour note of state; and after a
demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I
would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman note Toby,—
Sir To.
Bolts and shackles!
Fab.
O, peace, peace, peace! now, now.
Mal.
Seven of my people, with an obedient start,
make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind
up my watch, or play with my—some note rich jewel. Toby
approaches; courtesies there to me,—
Sir To.
Shall this fellow live?
Fab.
Though our silence be drawn from us with cars note note,
yet peace.
-- 259 --
Mal.
I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my
familiar smile with an austere regard of control,—
Sir To.
And does not Toby take you a blow o' the
lips then?
Mal.
Saying, ‘Cousin note Toby, my fortunes having cast
me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech,’—
Sir To.
What, what?
Mal.
‘You must amend your drunkenness.’
Sir To.
Out, scab!
Fab.
Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
Mal.
‘Besides, you waste the treasure of your time
with a foolish knight,’—
Sir And.
That's me, I warrant you.
Mal.
‘One Sir Andrew,’—
Sir And.
I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.
Mal.
What employment note have we here?
[Taking note up the letter.
Fab.
Now is the woodcock near the gin.
Sir To.
O, peace! and note the spirit of humours intimate
reading aloud to him!
Mal.
By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her
very C's, her U's and her T's; and thus makes she her
great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
Sir And.
Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that?
Mal. [reads note]
To the unknown beloved, this, and my good
wishes:—her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! note
and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to
seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?
Fab.
This wins him, liver and all.
Mal.
[reads note]
Jove knows I love:
But who? note
Lips, note do not move;
No man must know note.
-- 260 --
‘No man must know.’ What follows? the numbers altered! note
‘No man must know:’ if this should be thee, Malvolio?
Sir To.
Marry, hang thee, brock!
Mal. [reads note]
I may command where I adore;
But silence, like a Lucrece knife note,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life note.
Fab.
A fustian riddle!
Sir To.
Excellent wench, say I.
Mal.
‘M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.’ Nay, but first,
let me see, let me see, let me see note.
Fab.
What dish o' note poison has she dressed him!
Sir To.
And with what wing the staniel note checks at it!
Mal.
‘I may command where I adore.’ Why, she
may command me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this
is evident to any formal capacity; there is no obstruction
in this: and the end,—what should that alphabetical position
portend? If I could make that resemble something
in me,— noteSoftly! M, O, A, I,—
Sir To.
O, ay, make up note that: he is now at a cold scent.
Fab.
Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be note
as rank as a fox.
Mal.
M,—Malvolio; M,—why, that begins my name note.
Fab.
Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is
excellent at faults.
Mal.
M,—but then there is no consonancy in the sequel; note
that suffers note under probation: A should follow, but O does.
-- 261 --
Fab.
And O shall end, I hope.
Sir To.
Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!
Mal.
And then I comes behind.
Fab.
Ay, an note you had any eye behind you, you might
see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.
Mal.
M, O, A, I; this simulation note is not as the former:
and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me note, for every
one of these letters are note in my name. Soft! here follows prose.
[Reads note]
If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above
thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born note great, some achieve note
greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em note. Thy Fates open
their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; and, to inure
thyself to what thou art like to be, note cast thy humble slough and appear
fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy
tongue tang note arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity:
she thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who
commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered:
I say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to
be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants,
and not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would
alter services with thee,
The Fortunate-Unhappy.
Daylight note and champain note discovers not note more: this is open.
I will be proud, I will read politic note authors, I will baffle Sir
Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise note
the very man. I do not now note fool myself, to let imagination
jade me; for every note reason excites to this, that my lady
-- 262 --
loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late,
she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she
manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of note injunction
drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars I
am happy. I will be strange, stout note, in yellow stockings note, and
cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove
and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript.
[Reads note]
Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest
my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become
thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear note my sweet, I prithee.
Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do every thing that
thou wilt have me.
[Exit.
Fab.
I will not give my part of this sport for a pension
of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
Sir To.
I could marry this wench for this device.
Sir And.
So note could I too.
Sir To.
And ask no other dowry with her but such
another jest.
note
Sir And.
Nor I neither.
Fab.
Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Re-enter Maria. note
Sir To.
Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
Sir And.
Or o' mine either?
Sir To.
Shall I play my freedom at note tray-trip, and become
thy bond-slave?
Sir And.
I' faith, or I either?
Sir To.
Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that
when the image of it leaves him he must run mad.
Mar.
Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?
Sir To.
Like aqua-vitæ with a midwife.
Mar.
If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark
his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in
yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered,
a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her,
-- 263 --
which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being
addicted to a melancholy note as she is, that it cannot but turn
him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me.
Sir To.
To the gates of Tartar note, thou most excellent
devil of wit!
Sir And.
I'll make one too.
[Exeunt. note
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].
