SCENE I. The Street before OLIVIA'S House.
[Enter SEBASTIAN and CLOWN.]
Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow;
Let me be clear of thee.
Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not
sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your
name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither.--
Nothing that is so is so.
I pr'ythee vent thy folly somewhere else. Thou know'st not me.
Vent my folly! he has heard that word of some great man, and
now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great
lubber, the world, will prove a cockney.--I pr'ythee now, ungird
thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall
I vent to her that thou art coming?
I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me;
There's money for thee; if you tarry longer
I shall give worse payment.
By my troth, thou hast an open hand:--These wise men that
give fools money get themselves a good report after fourteen
[Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY, and FABIAN.]
Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you.
Why, there's for thee, and there, and there.
Are all the people mad?
[Beating SIR ANDREW.]
Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.
This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of
your coats for twopence.
Come on, sir; hold.
Nay, let him alone; I'll go another way to work with
him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any
law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for
Let go thy hand.
Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier,
put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on.
I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now?
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this
malapert blood from you.
Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee hold.
Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne'er were preach'd! Out of my sight!
Be not offended, dear Cesario!--
Rudesby, be gone!--I pr'ythee, gentle friend,
[Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN.]
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
In this uncivil and unjust extent
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go;
Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me,
He started one poor heart of mine in thee.
What relish is in this? how runs the stream?
Or I am mad/ or else this is a dream:--
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
Nay, come, I pr'ythee. Would thou'dst be ruled by me!
Madam, I will.
O, say so, and so be!
SCENE II. A Room in OLIVIA'S House.
[Enter MARIA and CLOWN.]
Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown and this beard; make him
believe thou art Sir Topas the curate; do it quickly: I'll call
Sir Toby the whilst.
Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in't; and
I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I
am not tall enough to become the function well: nor lean enough
to be thought a good student: but to be said, an honest man and a
good housekeeper, goes as fairly as to say, a careful man and a
great scholar. The competitors enter.
[Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.]
Jove bless thee, Master Parson.
Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, that
never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King
Gorboduc, 'That that is, is'; so I, being master parson, am
master parson: for what is that but that? and is but is?
To him, Sir Topas.
What, hoa, I say,--Peace in this prison!
The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.
[In an inner chamber.] Who calls there?
Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the
Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.
Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? talkest thou
nothing but of ladies?
Well said, master parson.
Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir Topas, do
not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.
Fie, thou dishonest Sathan! I call thee by the most modest
terms; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil
himself with courtesy. Say'st thou that house is dark?
As hell, Sir Topas.
Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the
clear storeys toward the south-north are as lustrous as ebony;
and yet complainest thou of obstruction?
I am not mad, Sir Topas; I say to you this house is dark.
Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but
ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in
I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though
ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say there was never man
thus abused. I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it
in any constant question.
What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild-fowl?
That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
What thinkest thou of his opinion?
I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.
Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt
hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits; and
fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy
grandam. Fare thee well.
Sir Topas, Sir Topas!
My most exquisite Sir Topas!
Nay, I am for all waters.
Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown: he
sees thee not.
To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou
findest him; I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may
be conveniently delivered, I would he were; for I am now so far
in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety
this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber.
[Exeunt SIR TOBY and MARIA.]
[Singing.] 'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
Tell me how thy lady does.'
'My lady is unkind, perdy.'
'Alas, why is she so?'
Fool, I say;--
'She loves another'--Who calls, ha?
Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand,
help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper; as I am a
gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.
Ay, good fool.
Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused; I am as well in
my wits, fool, as thou art.
But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in
your wits than a fool.
They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send
ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my
Advise you what you say: the minister is here.--Malvolio, thy
wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave
thy vain bibble-babble.
Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I, sir? not
I, sir. God b' wi' you, good Sir Topas.--Marry, amen.--I will
sir, I will.
Fool, fool, fool, I say,--
Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for
speaking to you.
Good fool, help me to some light and some paper;
I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.
Well-a-day,--that you were, sir!
By this hand, I am: Good fool, some ink, paper, and
light, and convey what I will set down to my lady; it shall
advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.
I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad
indeed? or do you but counterfeit?
Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.
Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains.
I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.
Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I pr'ythee be
'I am gone, sir,
And anon, sir,
I'll be with you again,
In a trice,
Like to the old vice,
Your need to sustain;
Who with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath,
Cries ah, ha! to the devil:
Like a mad lad,
Pare thy nails, dad.
Adieu, goodman drivel.
SCENE III. OLIVIA'S Garden.
This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't:
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then?
I could not find him at the Elephant;
Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
His counsel now might do me golden service;
For though my soul disputes well with my sense,
That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me
To any other trust but that I am mad,
Or else the lady's mad; yet if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take and give back affairs and their despatch
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing,
As I perceive she does: there's something in't
That is deceivable. But here comes the lady.
[Enter OLIVIA and a Priest.]
Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well,
Now go with me and with this holy man
Into the chantry by: there, before him
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith,
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace. He shall conceal it
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note;
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth.--What do you say?
I'll follow this good man, and go with you;
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
Then lead the way, good father;--And heavens so shine
That they may fairly note this act of mine!