Twelfth Night - William Shakespeare (online e book reading TXT) 📗

/> No man must know.

'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers alter'd!
'No man must know.' If this should be thee, Malvolio?

SIR TOBY.
Marry, hang thee, brock!

MALVOLIO.
[Reads]
I may command where I adore;
But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.

FABIAN.
A fustian riddle!

SIR TOBY.
Excellent wench, say I.

MALVOLIO.
'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let me see, let
me see, let me see.

FABIAN.
What dish o' poison has she dress'd him!

SIR TOBY.
And with what wing the staniel checks at it!

MALVOLIO.
'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command me; I serve
her; she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity;
there is no obstruction in this: and the end, - what should that
alphabetical position portend? if I could make that resemble
something in me! - Softly! M, O, A, I, -

SIR TOBY.
O, ay, make up that; he is now at a cold scent.

FABIAN.
Sowter will cry upon 't for all this, though it be as rank as a
fox.

MALVOLIO.
M, - Malvolio; M, - why, that begins my name.

FABIAN.
Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent at
faults.

MALVOLIO.
M, - but then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers
under probation: A should follow, but O does.

FABIAN.
And O shall end, I hope.

SIR TOBY.
Ay, or I 'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!

MALVOLIO.
And then I comes behind.

FABIAN.
Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction
at your heels than fortunes before you.

MALVOLIO.
M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former; and yet, to
crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these
letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose.
- [Reads] 'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am
above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great,
some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.
Thy Fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace
them; and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy
humble slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly
with servants; let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put
thyself into the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee that
sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and
wish'd to see thee ever cross-garter'd. I say, remember. Go to,
thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so; if not, let me see thee
a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch
Fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with
thee,
THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.

Daylight and champain discovers not more; this is open. I will be
proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I
will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very
man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for
every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did
commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being
cross-garter'd; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and
with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her
liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout,
in yellow stockings, and cross-garter'd, even with the swiftness
of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
postscript.

[Reads] Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
entertain'st my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles
become thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear my
sweet, I prithee.

Jove, I thank thee. I will smile; I will do everything that thou
wilt have me.
[Exit.]

FABIAN.
I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands
to be paid from the Sophy.

SIR TOBY.
I could marry this wench for this device.

SIR ANDREW.
So could I too.

SIR TOBY.
And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.

SIR ANDREW.
Nor I neither.

FABIAN.
Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

[Re-enter MARIA.]

SIR TOBY.
Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?

SIR ANDREW.
Or o' mine either?

SIR TOBY.
Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond-slave?

SIR ANDREW.
I' faith, or I either?

SIR TOBY.
Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it
leaves him he must run mad.

MARIA.
Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?

SIR TOBY.
Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

MARIA.
If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first
approach before my lady. He will come to her in yellow stockings,
and 't is a colour she abhors; and cross-garter'd, a fashion she
detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as
she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If
you will see it, follow me.

SIR TOBY.
To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

SIR ANDREW.
I'll make one too.

[Exeunt.]


ACT III. SCENE I.

OLIVIA'S garden.

[Enter VIOLA, and CLOWN with a tabor.]

VIOLA.
Save thee, friend, and thy music! dost thou live by thy tabor?

CLOWN.
No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA.
Art thou a churchman?

CLOWN.
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.

VIOLA.
So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell
near him; or the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand
by the church.

CLOWN.
You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a cheveril
glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong side may be turn'd
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 disgrac'd them.

VIOLA.
Thy reason, man?

CLOWN.
Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are
grown so false, I am loth to prove reason with them.

VIOLA.
I warrant thou 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 thou 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 thee 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 oft
with your master as with my mistress. I think I saw your
wisdom there.

VIOLA.
Nay, and thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold,
there's expenses for thee.

CLOWN.
Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

VIOLA.
By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one; [Aside]
though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy 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; 't is well begg'd.

CLOWN.
The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar.
Cressida was a beggar. 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-worn.
[Exit.]

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.

[Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW.]

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.

[Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.]

Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

SIR ANDREW.
That youth's a rare courtier. 'Rain odours'; well.

VIOLA.
My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and
vouchsafed ear.

SIR ANDREW.
'Odours,' 'pregnant,' and 'vouchsafed': I'll get 'em all three
all ready.

OLIVIA.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
[Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA.] 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! 'T was never merry world
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment;
You're 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, -