SCENE I.
Olivia's Garden.
Enter Viola, and Clown.
Vio.
Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou
live by thy tabor3 note?
Clo.
No, sir; I live by the church.
-- 373 --
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 beggar4 note,
if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by
thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.
Clo.
You have said, sir.—To see this age!—A sentence
is but a cheveril glove5 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.
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
-- 374 --
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
the 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 expenses 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, sir6 note?
Vio.
Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
Clo.
I would play lord Pandarus 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 beggar7 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-worn8 note.
[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,
-- 375 --
And, like the haggard9 note, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. 11Q0454 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's folly fall'n quite taints their wit10 note
.
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 yours.
Sir To.
Will you encounter the house? my niece is
desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
Vio.
I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is
the list of my voyage11 note.
Sir To.
Taste your legs, sir: put them to motion.
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 prevented.
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.
-- 376 --
Vio.
My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your
own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear1 note.
Sir And.
“Odours,” “pregnant,” and “vouchsafed:”
—I'll get 'em all three all ready2 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.
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're 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 music from the spheres.
Vio.
Dear lady,—
Oli.
Give me leave, 'beseech you. I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you.
-- 377 --
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, 11Q0455
Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom,
Hides my heart3 note
. So, let me hear you speak.
Vio.
I pity you.
Oli.
That's a degree to love.
Vio.
No, not a grise4 note
; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
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 ho5 note!
Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship.
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
-- 378 --
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 lip!
A murderous 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, maugre6 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 has7 note; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam: never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Oli.
Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, may'st move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
[Exeunt.
-- 379 --
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
