MARIA
Nay; either tell me where been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter, in way of excuse: my lady will hang for absence.
CLOWN
Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.
MARIA
Make that good.
CLOWN
He shall see none to fear.
MARIA
A good lenten answer. I can tell where that saying was born, of I fear no colours.
CLOWN
Where, good Mistress Mary?
MARIA
In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
CLOWN
Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
MARIA
Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or to be turned away; is not that as good as a hanging to you?
CLOWN
Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out.
MARIA
You are resolute then?
CLOWN
Not so, neither, but I am resolved on two points.
MARIA
That if one break, the other will hold; or if both break, your gaskins fall.
CLOWN
Apt, in good faith, very apt! Well, go way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, wert as witty a piece of Eve’s flesh as any in Illyria.
MARIA
Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that. Here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
CLOWN
Wit, and’t be will, put me into good fooling! Those wits that think they have , do very prove fools; and I that am sure I lack , may pass for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless , lady!
OLIVIA
Take the fool away.
CLOWN
Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
OLIVIA
Go to, y’are a dry fool; I’ll no more of you. Besides, you grow dishonest.
CLOWN
Two faults, madonna, 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. Anything 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 but calamity, so beauty’s a flower. The lady bade take away the fool, therefore, I say again, take her away.
OLIVIA
Sir, I bade them take away you.
CLOWN
Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non facit monachum: that’s as much to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.
OLIVIA
Can you do it?
CLOWN
Dexteriously, good madonna.
OLIVIA
Make your proof.
CLOWN
I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good my mouse of virtue, answer me.
OLIVIA
Well sir, for want of other idleness, I’ll ’bide your proof.
CLOWN
Good madonna, why mourn’st ?
OLIVIA
Good fool, for my brother’s death.
CLOWN
I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
OLIVIA
I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
CLOWN
The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
OLIVIA
What think you of this fool, Malvolio? he not mend?
MALVOLIO
Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, ever make the better fool.
CLOWN
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 twopence that you are no fool.
OLIVIA
How say you to that, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO
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 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 wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools’ zanies.
OLIVIA
O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and 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.
CLOWN
Now Mercury endue with leasing, for speak’st well of fools!
MARIA
Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you.
OLIVIA
From the Count Orsino, is it?
MARIA
I know not, madam; a fair young man, and well attended.
OLIVIA
Who of my people hold him in delay?
MARIA
Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
OLIVIA
Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman. Fie on him!
OLIVIA
Go you, Malvolio. If it be a suit from the Count, I am sick, or not at home. What you will, to dismiss it.
OLIVIA
Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
CLOWN
spoke for us, madonna, as if eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here he comes, one of kin has a most weak pia mater.
OLIVIA
By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
SIR TOBY
A gentleman.
OLIVIA
A gentleman? What gentleman?
SIR TOBY
a gentleman here. A plague o’ these pickle-herrings! How now, sot?
CLOWN
Good Sir Toby.
OLIVIA
Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
SIR TOBY
Lechery! I defy lechery. There’s one at the gate.
OLIVIA
Ay, marry, what is he?
SIR TOBY
Let him be the devil an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.
OLIVIA
What’s a drunken man like, fool?
CLOWN
Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him, and a third drowns him.
OLIVIA
Go and seek the coroner, and let him sit o’ my coz; for he’s in the third degree of drink; he’s drowned. Go, look after him.
CLOWN
He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman.
MALVOLIO
Madam, yond 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.
OLIVIA
Tell him, he shall not speak with me.
MALVOLIO
Has been told so; and he says he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff’s post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he’ll speak with you.
OLIVIA
What kind o’ man is he?
MALVOLIO
Why, of mankind.
OLIVIA
What manner of man?
MALVOLIO
Of very ill manner; he’ll speak with you, will you or no.
OLIVIA
Of what personage and years is he?
MALVOLIO
Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before a peascod, or a codling, when almost an apple. with him in 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.
OLIVIA
Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.
MALVOLIO
Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
OLIVIA
Give me my veil; come, throw it my face.
We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.
VIOLA
The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
OLIVIA
Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will?
VIOLA
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, even to the least sinister usage.
OLIVIA
came you, sir?
VIOLA
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 speech.
OLIVIA
Are you a comedian?
VIOLA
No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?
OLIVIA
If I do not usurp myself, I am.
VIOLA
Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; 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.
OLIVIA
Come to what is important in’t: I forgive you the praise.
VIOLA
Alas, I took great pains to study it, and poetical.
OLIVIA
It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
MARIA
Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way.
VIOLA
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.
OLIVIA
Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
VIOLA
It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace as matter.
OLIVIA
Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?
VIOLA
The rudeness that appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment. What I am and what I would are as secret as maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any other’s, profanation.
OLIVIA
Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
OLIVIA
Now, sir, what is your text?
VIOLA
Most sweet lady—
OLIVIA
A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text?
VIOLA
In Orsino’s bosom.
OLIVIA
In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
VIOLA
To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
OLIVIA
O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
VIOLA
Good madam, let me see your face.
OLIVIA
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 not well done?
VIOLA
Excellently done, if God did all.
OLIVIA
in grain, sir; ’twill endure wind and weather.
VIOLA
beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
Lady, you are the cruel’st she alive
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.
OLIVIA
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 to praise me?
VIOLA
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 be but recompens’d though you were crown’d
The nonpareil of beauty!
OLIVIA
How does he love me?
VIOLA
With adorations, fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
OLIVIA
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 divulg’d, free, learn’d, and valiant,
And in dimension and the shape of nature,
A gracious person. But yet I cannot love him.
He might have took his answer long ago.
VIOLA
If I did love you in my master’s flame,
With such a suff’ring, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense,
I would not understand it.
OLIVIA
Why, what would you?
VIOLA
Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Hallow your name to the reverberate 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.
OLIVIA
You might do much.
What is your parentage?
VIOLA
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.
OLIVIA
Get you to your lord;
I cannot love him: let him send no more,
Unless, , you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.
VIOLA
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
Plac’d in contempt. Farewell, fair cruelty.
OLIVIA
What is your parentage?
‘Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.’ I’ll be sworn art;
tongue, face, limbs, actions, and spirit,
Do give five-fold blazon. Not too fast: soft, soft!
Unless the master were the man. How now?
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
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!
MALVOLIO
Here, madam, at your service.
OLIVIA
Run after that same peevish messenger
The County’s man: he left 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 tomorrow,
I’ll give him reasons for’t. Hie , Malvolio.
MALVOLIO
Madam, I will.
OLIVIA
I do I know not what, and fear to find
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
Fate, show force, ourselves we do not owe.
What is decreed must be; and be this so!