Original Text
Enter Olivia and Maria.
Original Text
OLIVIA. I have sent after him. He says he’ll come; How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft than begg’d or borrow’d. I speak too loud.— Where’s Malvolio?—He is sad and civil, And suits well for a servant with my fortunes; Where is Malvolio?
Original Text
MARIA. He’s coming, madam: But in very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam.
Original Text
OLIVIA. Why, what’s the matter? Does he rave?
Original Text
MARIA. No, madam, he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he come, for sure the man is tainted in ’s wits.
Original Text
OLIVIA. Go call him hither. I’m as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be. Enter Malvolio. How now, Malvolio?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. Sweet lady, ho, ho!
Original Text
OLIVIA. Smil’st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
Original Text
MALVOLIO. 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.’
Original Text
OLIVIA. Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.
Original Text
OLIVIA. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. To bed? Ay, sweetheart, and I’ll come to thee.
Original Text
OLIVIA. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?
Original Text
MARIA. How do you, Malvolio?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws!
Original Text
MARIA. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. ‘Be not afraid of greatness.’ ’Twas well writ.
Original Text
OLIVIA. What mean’st thou by that, Malvolio?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. ‘Some are born great’—
Original Text
OLIVIA. Ha?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. ‘Some achieve greatness’—
Original Text
OLIVIA. What say’st thou?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. ‘And some have greatness thrust upon them.’
Original Text
OLIVIA. Heaven restore thee!
Original Text
MALVOLIO. ‘Remember who commended thy yellow stockings’—
Original Text
OLIVIA. Thy yellow stockings?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. ‘And wished to see thee cross-gartered.’
Original Text
OLIVIA. Cross-gartered?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. ‘Go to: thou art made, if thou desir’st to be so:’—
Original Text
OLIVIA. Am I made?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. ‘If not, let me see thee a servant still.’
Original Text
OLIVIA. Why, this is very midsummer madness. Enter Servant.
Original Text
SERVANT. Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino’s is returned; I could hardly entreat him back. He attends your ladyship’s pleasure.
Original Text
OLIVIA. 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.
Original Text
[_Exeunt Olivia and Maria._]
Original Text
MALVOLIO. O 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 kinsman, surly with servants, let thy tongue tang 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 her, but it is Jove’s doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went away now, ‘Let this fellow be looked to;’ ‘Fellow!’ not ‘Malvolio’, nor after my degree, but ‘fellow’. Why, everything 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. Enter Sir Toby, Fabian and Maria.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet I’ll speak to him.
Original Text
FABIAN. Here he is, here he is. How is’t with you, sir? How is’t with you, man?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. Go off, I discard you. Let me enjoy my private. Go off.
Original Text
MARIA. 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.
Original Text
MALVOLIO. Ah, ha! does she so?
Original Text
SIR TOBY. 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 mankind.
Original Text
MALVOLIO. Do you know what you say?
Original Text
MARIA. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God he be not bewitched.
Original Text
FABIAN. Carry his water to th’ wise woman.
Original Text
MARIA. Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I’ll say.
Original Text
MALVOLIO. How now, mistress!
Original Text
MARIA. O Lord!
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Prithee hold thy peace, this is not the way. Do you not see you move him? Let me alone with him.
Original Text
FABIAN. No way but gentleness, gently, gently. The fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Why, how now, my bawcock? How dost thou, chuck?
Original Text
MALVOLIO. Sir!
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Ay, biddy, come with me. What, man, ’tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier!
Original Text
MARIA. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.
Original Text
MALVOLIO. My prayers, minx?
Original Text
MARIA. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
Original Text
MALVOLIO. Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle, shallow things. I am not of your element. You shall know more hereafter. [_Exit._]
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Is’t possible?
Original Text
FABIAN. If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.
Original Text
MARIA. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.
Original Text
FABIAN. Why, we shall make him mad indeed.
Original Text
MARIA. The house will be the quieter.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Come, we’ll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he’s 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 madmen. But see, but see! Enter Sir Andrew.
Original Text
FABIAN. More matter for a May morning.
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. Here’s the challenge, read it. I warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in’t.
Original Text
FABIAN. Is’t so saucy?
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. Ay, is’t, I warrant him. Do but read.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Give me. [_Reads._] _Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow._
Original Text
FABIAN. Good, and valiant.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. _Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for’t._
Original Text
FABIAN. A good note, that keeps you from the blow of the law.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. _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._
Original Text
FABIAN. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense—less.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. _I will waylay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me—_
Original Text
FABIAN. Good.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. _Thou kill’st me like a rogue and a villain._
Original Text
FABIAN. Still you keep o’ th’ windy side of the law. Good.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. _Fare thee well, and God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine, but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek._ If this letter move him not, his legs cannot. I’ll give’t him.
Original Text
MARIA. You may have very fit occasion for’t. He is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Go, Sir Andrew. Scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bum-baily. So soon as ever thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw’st, swear horrible, 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.
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [_Exit._]
Original Text
SIR TOBY. 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 Aguecheek 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.
Original Text
FABIAN. Here he comes with your niece; give them way till he take leave, and presently after him.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge. [_Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian and Maria._]
Original Text
OLIVIA. I have said too much unto a heart of stone, And laid mine honour too unchary on’t: There’s something in me that reproves my fault: But such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks reproof.
Original Text
VIOLA. With the same ’haviour that your passion bears Goes on my master’s griefs.
Original Text
OLIVIA. Here, wear this jewel for me, ’tis my picture. Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you. And I beseech you come again tomorrow. What shall you ask of me that I’ll deny, That honour sav’d, may upon asking give?
Original Text
VIOLA. Nothing but this, your true love for my master.
Original Text
OLIVIA. How with mine honour may I give him that Which I have given to you?
Original Text
VIOLA. I will acquit you.
Original Text
OLIVIA. Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well; A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. [_Exit._]
Original Text
Enter Sir Toby and Fabian.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Gentleman, God save thee.
Original Text
VIOLA. And you, sir.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. That defence thou hast, betake thee to’t. Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not, but thy intercepter, full of despite, 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.
Original Text
VIOLA. 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.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. 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.
Original Text
VIOLA. I pray you, sir, what is he?
Original Text
SIR TOBY. He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a 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, nob is his word; give’t or take’t.
Original Text
VIOLA. 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.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Sir, no. His indignation derives itself out of a very competent 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 meddle you must, that’s certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.
Original Text
VIOLA. 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.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. [_Exit Sir Toby._]
Original Text
VIOLA. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
Original Text
FABIAN. I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more.
Original Text
VIOLA. I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
Original Text
FABIAN. 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.
Original Text
VIOLA. I shall be much bound to you for’t. I am one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle. [_Exeunt._]
Original Text
Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Why, man, he’s a very devil. I have not seen such a firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in with such a mortal motion that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hits the ground they step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. Pox on’t, I’ll not meddle with him.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. 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.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. I’ll make the motion. Stand here, make a good show on’t. This shall end without the perdition of souls. [_Aside._] Marry, I’ll ride your horse as well as I ride you. Enter Fabian and Viola.
Original Text
[_To Fabian._] I have his horse to take up the quarrel. I have persuaded him the youth’s a devil.
Original Text
FABIAN. He is as horribly conceited of him, and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. There’s no remedy, sir, he will fight with you for’s 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.
Original Text
VIOLA. [_Aside._] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.
Original Text
FABIAN. Give ground if you see him furious.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Come, Sir Andrew, there’s no remedy, the gentleman will for his honour’s sake have one bout with you. He cannot by the duello avoid it; but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on: to’t.
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. [_Draws._] Pray God he keep his oath!
Original Text
Enter Antonio.
Original Text
VIOLA. [_Draws._] I do assure you ’tis against my will.
Original Text
ANTONIO. 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.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. You, sir? Why, what are you?
Original Text
ANTONIO. [_Draws._] One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. [_Draws._] Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.
Original Text
Enter Officers.
Original Text
FABIAN. O good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the officers.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. [_To Antonio._] I’ll be with you anon.
Original Text
VIOLA. [_To Sir Andrew._] Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. 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.
Original Text
FIRST OFFICER. This is the man; do thy office.
Original Text
SECOND OFFICER. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of Count Orsino.
Original Text
ANTONIO. You do mistake me, sir.
Original Text
FIRST OFFICER. 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.
Original Text
ANTONIO. 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.
Original Text
SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, away.
Original Text
ANTONIO. I must entreat of you some of that money.
Original Text
VIOLA. 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 much; I’ll make division of my present with you. Hold, there’s half my coffer.
Original Text
ANTONIO. 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.
Original Text
VIOLA. 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.
Original Text
ANTONIO. O heavens themselves!
Original Text
SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, I pray you go.
Original Text
ANTONIO. 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.
Original Text
FIRST OFFICER. What’s that to us? The time goes by. Away!
Original Text
ANTONIO. 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. Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks, o’erflourished by the devil.
Original Text
FIRST OFFICER. The man grows mad, away with him. Come, come, sir.
Original Text
ANTONIO. Lead me on. [_Exeunt Officers with Antonio._]
Original Text
VIOLA. Methinks his words do from such passion fly That he believes himself; so do not I. Prove true, imagination, O prove true, That I, dear brother, be now ta’en for you!
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian. We’ll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
Original Text
VIOLA. He nam’d Sebastian. I my brother know Yet living in my glass; 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._]
Original Text
SIR TOBY. 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.
Original Text
FABIAN. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. ’Slid, I’ll after him again and beat him.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
Original Text
SIR ANDREW. And I do not— [_Exit._]
Original Text
FABIAN. Come, let’s see the event.
Original Text
SIR TOBY. I dare lay any money ’twill be nothing yet. [_Exeunt._]