VIOLA
Save , friend, and music. live by tabor?
CLOWN
No, sir, I live by the church.
VIOLA
Art a churchman?
CLOWN
No such matter, sir. I do live by the church, for I do live at my house, and my house stand by the church.
VIOLA
So mayst say the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or the church stands by tabor, if tabor stand by the church.
CLOWN
You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a chev’ril glove to a good wit. How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!
VIOLA
Nay, that’s certain; they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
CLOWN
I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
VIOLA
Why, man?
CLOWN
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.
VIOLA
reason, man?
CLOWN
Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.
VIOLA
I warrant art a merry fellow, and car’st for nothing.
CLOWN
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.
VIOLA
Art not the Lady Olivia’s fool?
CLOWN
No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly. She will keep no fool, sir, till she be married, and fools 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.
VIOLA
I saw late at the Count Orsino’s.
CLOWN
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as with your master as with my mistress. I think I saw your wisdom there.
VIOLA
Nay, and pass upon me, I’ll no more with . Hold, there’s expenses for .
CLOWN
Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send a beard!
VIOLA
By my troth, I’ll tell , I am almost sick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is lady within?
CLOWN
Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
VIOLA
Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
CLOWN
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
VIOLA
I understand you, sir; well begged.
CLOWN
The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will conster to them you come; who you are and what you would are out of my welkin. I might say “element”, but the word is overworn.
VIOLA
This fellow is 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,
And like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. 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, folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit.
SIR TOBY
Save you, gentleman.
VIOLA
And you, sir.
SIR ANDREW
Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
VIOLA
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
SIR ANDREW
I hope, sir, you are, and I am yours.
SIR TOBY
Will you encounter the house? My niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
VIOLA
I am bound to your niece, sir, I mean, she is the list of my voyage.
SIR TOBY
Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.
VIOLA
My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
SIR TOBY
I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
VIOLA
I will answer you with gait and entrance: but we are prevented.
VIOLA
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!
SIR ANDREW
That youth’s a rare courtier. ‘Rain odours,’ well.
VIOLA
My matter no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
SIR ANDREW
‘Odours,’ ‘pregnant,’ and ‘vouchsafed.’—I’ll get ’em all three ready.
OLIVIA
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
OLIVIA
Give me your hand, sir.
VIOLA
My duty, madam, and most humble service.
OLIVIA
What is your name?
VIOLA
Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess.
OLIVIA
My servant, sir! never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call’d compliment:
Y’are servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
VIOLA
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours.
Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.
OLIVIA
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks rather than fill’d with me!
VIOLA
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf.
OLIVIA
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.
VIOLA
Dear lady—
OLIVIA
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.
Under your hard construction must I sit;
To force that on you in a shameful cunning,
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 cypress, not a bosom,
Hides my heart: so let me hear you speak.
VIOLA
I pity you.
OLIVIA
That’s a degree to love.
VIOLA
No, not a grize; for a vulgar proof
That very we pity enemies.
OLIVIA
Why then 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!
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.
VIOLA
Then westward ho!
Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship!
You’ll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
OLIVIA
Stay:
I tell me what think’st of me.
VIOLA
That you do think you are not what you are.
OLIVIA
If I think so, I think the same of you.
VIOLA
Then think you right; I am not what I am.
OLIVIA
I would you were as I would have you be.
VIOLA
Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
OLIVIA
O what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murd’rous 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 everything,
I love so, that maugre all pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, therefore no cause;
But rather reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
VIOLA
By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has; 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.
OLIVIA
Yet come again: for perhaps mayst move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.