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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Part 59 out of 63

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should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman Toby-
SIR TOBY. Bolts and shackles!
FABIAN. O, peace, peace, peace! Now, now.
MALVOLIO. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for
him. I frown the while, and perchance wind up my watch, or play
with my- some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to me-
SIR TOBY. Shall this fellow live?
FABIAN. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.
MALVOLIO. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile
with an austere regard of control-
SIR TOBY. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?
MALVOLIO. Saying 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your
niece give me this prerogative of speech'-
SIR TOBY. What, what?
MALVOLIO. 'You must amend your drunkenness'-
SIR TOBY. Out, scab!
FABIAN. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
MALVOLIO. 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a
foolish knight'-
AGUECHEEK. That's me, I warrant you.
MALVOLIO. 'One Sir Andrew.'
AGUECHEEK. I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.
MALVOLIO. What employment have we here?
[Taking up the letter]
FABIAN. Now is the woodcock near the gin.
SIR TOBY. O, peace! And the spirit of humours intimate reading
aloud to him!
MALVOLIO. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very
C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It
is, in contempt of question, her hand.
AGUECHEEK. Her C's, her U's, and her T's. Why that?
MALVOLIO. [Reads] 'To the unknown belov'd, this, and my good
wishes.' Her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! And the
impressure her Lucrece with which she uses to seal; 'tis my lady.
To whom should this be?
FABIAN. This wins him, liver and all.
MALVOLIO. [Reads]

Jove knows I love,
But who?
Lips, do not move;
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.
AGUECHEEK. So could I too.
SIR TOBY. And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.

Enter MARIA

AGUECHEEK. Nor I neither.
FABIAN. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
SIR TOBY. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
AGUECHEEK. Or o' mine either?
SIR TOBY. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy
bond-slave?
AGUECHEEK. 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-vita! with a midwife.
AIARIA. 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 'tis 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!
AGUECHEEK. I'll make one too. Exeunt

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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
chev'ril 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 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 loath 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 pilchers 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: think I saw your
wisdom there.
VIOLA. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
Hold, there's expenses for thee. [Giving a coin]
CLOWN. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send the 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; 'tis well begg'd.
[Giving another coin]
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 overworn.
Exit CLOWN
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.
AGUECHEEK. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
VIOLA. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
AGUECHEEK. 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!
AGUECHEEK. That youth's a rare courtier- 'Rain odours' well!
VIOLA. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant
and vouchsafed car.
AGUECHEEK. '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 all but OLIVIA and VIOLA] 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! 'Twas 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 'tis a vulgar proof
That very oft we pity enemies.
OLIVIA. Why, then, methinks 'tis 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! [Clock strikes]
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 prithee tell me what thou 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 every thing,
I love thee so that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast 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 thou perhaps mayst move
That heart which now abhors to like his love. Exeunt

SCENE II.
OLIVIA'S house

Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW and FABIAN

AGUECHEEK. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
SIR TOBY. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
FABIAN. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.
AGUECHEEK. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the Count's
servingman than ever she bestow'd upon me; I saw't i' th'
orchard.
SIR TOBY. Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me that.
AGUECHEEK. As plain as I see you now.
FABIAN. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.
AGUECHEEK. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me?
FABIAN. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment
and reason.
SIR TOBY. And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a
sailor.
FABIAN. She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to
exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in
your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should then have
accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the
mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbness. This was
look'd for at your hand, and this was baulk'd. The double gilt of
this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sail'd
into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an
icicle on Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some
laudable attempt either of valour or policy.
AGUECHEEK. An't be any way, it must be with valour, for policy I
hate; I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician.
SIR TOBY. Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of
valour. Challenge me the Count's youth to fight with him; hurt
him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it; and assure
thyself there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in
man's commendation with woman than report of valour.
FABIAN. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
AGUECHEEK. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?
SIR TOBY. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is
no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention.
Taunt him with the license of ink; if thou thou'st him some
thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in
thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the
bed of Ware in England, set 'em down; go about it. Let there be
gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no
matter. About it.
AGUECHEEK. Where shall I find you?
SIR TOBY. We'll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.
Exit SIR ANDREW
FABIAN. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY. I have been dear to him, lad- some two thousand strong,
or so.
FABIAN. We shall have a rare letter from him; but you'll not
deliver't?
SIR TOBY. Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth
to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them
together. For Andrew, if he were open'd and you find so much
blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the
rest of th' anatomy.
FABIAN. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great
presage of cruelty.

Enter MARIA

SIR TOBY. Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.
MARIA. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into
stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very
renegado; for there is no Christian that means to be saved by
believing rightly can ever believe such impossible passages of
grossness. He's in yellow stockings.
SIR TOBY. And cross-garter'd?
MARIA. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' th'
church. I have dogg'd him like his murderer. He does obey every
point of the letter that I dropp'd to betray him. He does smile
his face into more lines than is in the new map with the
augmentation of the Indies. You have not seen such a thing as
'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady
will strike him; if she do, he'll smile and take't for a great
favour.
SIR TOBY. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. Exeunt

SCENE III.
A street

Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO

SEBASTIAN. I would not by my will have troubled you;
But since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.
ANTONIO. I could not stay behind you: my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
And not all love to see you- though so much
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage-
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,
Unguided and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable. My willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.
SEBASTIAN. My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make but thanks,
And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns
Are shuffl'd off with such uncurrent pay;
But were my worth as is my conscience firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?
ANTONIO. To-morrow, sir; best first go see your lodging.
SEBASTIAN. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That do renown this city.
ANTONIO. Would you'd pardon me.
I do not without danger walk these streets:
Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his galleys
I did some service; of such note, indeed,
That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd.
SEBASTIAN. Belike you slew great number of his people.
ANTONIO.Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature;
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake,
Most of our city did. Only myself stood out;
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,
I shall pay dear.
SEBASTIAN. Do not then walk too open.
ANTONIO. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse;
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet,
Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the town; there shall you have me.
SEBASTIAN. Why I your purse?
ANTONIO. Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
You have desire to purchase; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.
SEBASTIAN. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
An hour.
ANTONIO. To th' Elephant.
SEBASTIAN. I do remember. Exeunt

SCENE IV.
OLIVIA'S garden

Enter OLIVIA and MARIA

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?
MARIA. He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner.
He is sure possess'd, madam.
OLIVIA. Why, what's the matter? Does he rave?
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.
OLIVIA. Go call him hither. Exit MARIA
I am as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.

Re-enter MARIA with MALVOLIO

How now, Malvolio!
MALVOLIO. Sweet lady, ho, ho.
OLIVIA. Smil'st thou?
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
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.'
OLIVIA. Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee?
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.
OLIVIA. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO. To bed? Ay, sweetheart, and I'll come to thee.
OLIVIA. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand
so oft?
MARIA. How do you, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO. At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws!
MARIA. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?
MALVOLIO. 'Be not afraid of greatness.' 'Twas well writ.
OLIVIA. What mean'st thou by that, Malvolio?
AIALVOLIO. 'Some are born great,'-
OLIVIA. Ha?
MALVOLIO. 'Some achieve greatness,'-
OLIVIA. What say'st thou?
MALVOLIO. 'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'
OLIVIA. Heaven restore thee!
MALVOLIO. 'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,'-
OLIVIA. 'Thy yellow stockings?'
MALVOLIO. 'And wish'd to see thee cross-garterd.'
OLIVIA. 'Cross-garter'd?'
MALVOLIO. 'Go to, thou an made, if thou desir'st to be so';-
OLIVIA. Am I made?
MALVOLIO. 'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'
OLIVIA. Why, this is very midsummer madness.

Enter SERVANT

SERVANT. Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is
return'd; I could hardly entreat him back; he attends your
ladyship's pleasure.
OLIVIA. I'll come to him. [Exit SERVANT] Good Maria, let this
fellow be look'd 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.
Exeunt OLIVIA and MARIA
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 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 lim'd her; but it is
Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went away
now- 'Let this fellow be look'd 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.

Re-enter MARIA, with SIR TOBY and FABIAN

SIR TOBY. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the
devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possess'd
him, yet I'll speak to him.
FABIAN. Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir?
SIR TOBY. How is't with you, man?
MALVOLIO. Go off; I discard you. Let me enjoy my private; go off.
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.
MALVOLIO. Ah, ha! does she so?
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.
MALVOLIO. Do you know what you say?
MARIA. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at
heart! Pray God he be not bewitched.
FABIAN. Carry his water to th' wise woman.
MARIA. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I live. My
lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.
MALVOLIO. How now, mistress!
MARIA. O Lord!
SIR TOBY. Prithee hold thy peace; this is not the way. Do you not
see you move him? Let me alone with him.
FABIAN. No way but gentleness- gently, gently. The fiend is rough,
and will not be roughly us'd.
SIR TOBY. Why, how now, my bawcock!
How dost thou, chuck?
MALVOLIO. Sir!
SIR TOBY. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man, 'tis not for gravity
to play at cherrypit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier!
MARIA. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.
MALVOLIO. My prayers, minx!
MARIA. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
MALVOLIO. Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle shallow things; I
am not of your element; you shall know more hereafter.
Exit
SIR TOBY. Is't possible?
FABIAN. If this were play'd upon a stage now, I could condemn it as
an improbable fiction.
SIR TOBY. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device,
man.
MARIA. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.
FABIAN. Why, we shall make him mad indeed.
MARIA. The house will be the quieter.
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

FABIAN. More matter for a May morning.
AGUECHEEK. Here's the challenge; read it. I warrant there's vinegar
and pepper in't.
FABIAN. Is't so saucy?
AGUECHEEK. Ay, is't, I warrant him; do but read.
SIR TOBY. Give me. [Reads] 'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art
but a scurvy fellow.'
FABIAN. Good and valiant.
SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do
call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.'
FABIAN. A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law.
SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'Thou com'st 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.'
FABIAN. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense- less.
SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it be
thy chance to kill me'-
FABIAN. Good.
SIR TOBY. 'Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.'
FABIAN. Still you keep o' th' windy side of the law. Good!
SIR TOBY. [Reads] '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.
MARIA. You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some
commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.
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 twang'd
off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would
have earn'd him. Away.
AGUECHEEK. Nay, let me alone for swearing. Exit
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 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.

Re-enter OLIVIA. With VIOLA

FABIAN. Here he comes with your niece; give them way till he take
leave, and presently after him.
SIR TOBY. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a
challenge.
Exeunt SIR TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA
OLIVIA. I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary out;
There's something in me that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is
That it but mocks reproof.
VIOLA. With the same haviour that your passion bears
Goes on my master's griefs.
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 to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,
That honour sav'd may upon asking give?
VIOLA. Nothing but this- your true love for my master.
OLIVIA. How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you?
VIOLA. I will acquit you.
OLIVIA. Well, come again to-morrow. Fare thee well;
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. Exit

Re-enter SIR TOBY and SIR FABIAN

SIR TOBY. Gentleman, God save thee.
VIOLA. And you, sir.
SIR TOBY. That defence thou hast, betake thee tot. 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.
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.
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.
VIOLA. I pray you, sir, what is he?
SIR TOBY. He is knight, dubb'd with unhatch'd rapier and on carpet
consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl. Souls and
bodies hath he divorc'd 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.
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.
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.
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.
SIR TOBY. I Will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman
till my return. Exit SIR TOBY
VIOLA. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
FABIAN. I know the knight is incens'd against you, even to a mortal
arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more.
VIOLA. I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
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.
VIOLA. I shall be much bound to you for't. I am one that would
rather go with sir priest than sir knight. I care not who knows
so much of my mettle. Exeunt

Re-enter SIR TOBY With SIR ANDREW

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
hit the ground they step on. They say he has been fencer to the
Sophy.
AGUECHEEK. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.
SIR TOBY. Ay, but he will not now be pacified; Fabian can scarce
hold him yonder.
AGUECHEEK. Plague on't; an I thought he had been valiant, and so
cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damn'd ere I'd have
challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him
my horse, grey Capilet.
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.

Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA

[To FABIAN] I have his horse to take up the quarrel; I have
persuaded him the youth's a devil.
FABIAN. [To SIR TOBY] He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants
and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.
SIR TOBY. [To VIOLA] 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.
VIOLA. [Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me
tell them how much I lack of a man.
FABIAN. Give ground if you see him furious.
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 promis'd me, as he is a gentleman and
a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to't.
AGUECHEEK. Pray God he keep his oath! [They draw]

Enter ANTONIO

VIOLA. I do assure you 'tis against my will.
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.
SIR TOBY. You, sir! Why, what are you?
ANTONIO. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
SIR TOBY. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.
[They draw]

Enter OFFICERS

FABIAN. O good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the officers.
SIR TOBY. [To ANTONIO] I'll be with you anon.
VIOLA. Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
AGUECHEEK. Marry, will I, sir; and for that I promis'd you, I'll be
as good as my word. He will bear you easily and reins well.
FIRST OFFICER. This is the man; do thy office.
SECOND OFFICER. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit
Of Count Orsino.
ANTONIO. You do mistake me, sir.
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.
ANTONIO. I Must obey. [To VIOLA] 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.
SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, away.
ANTONIO. I must entreat of you some of that money.
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.
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.
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.
ANTONIO. O heavens themselves!
SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, I pray you go.
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.
FIRST OFFICER. What's that to us? The time goes by; away.
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'erflourish'd by the devil.
FIRST OFFICER. The man grows mad. Away with him.
Come, come, sir.
ANTONIO. Lead me on. Exit with OFFICERS
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!
SIR TOBY. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper
o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.
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
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.
FABIAN. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.
AGUECHEEK. 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.
SIR TOBY. Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
AGUECHEEK. And I do not- Exit
FABIAN. Come, let's see the event.
SIR TOBY. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.
Exeunt

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ACT IV. SCENE I.
Before OLIVIA'S house

Enter SEBASTIAN and CLOWN

CLOWN. Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
SEBASTIAN. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; let me be clear
of thee.
CLOWN. 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.
SEBASTIAN. I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else.
Thou know'st not me.
CLOWN. 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 prithee now, ungird
thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall
I vent to her that thou art coming?
SEBASTIAN. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me;
There's money for thee; if you tarry longer
I shall give worse payment.
CLOWN. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that
give fools money get themselves a good report after fourteen
years' purchase.

Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY, and FABIAN

AGUECHEEK. Now, sir, have I met you again?
[Striking SEBASTIAN] There's for you.
SEBASTIAN. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there.
Are all the people mad?
SIR TOBY. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.
[Holding SEBASTIAN]
CLOWN. This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of
your coats for two-pence. Exit
SIR TOBY. Come on, sir; hold.
AGUECHEEK. 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
that.
SEBASTIAN. Let go thy hand.
SIR TOBY. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier,
put up your iron; you are well flesh'd. Come on.
SEBASTIAN. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now?
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. [Draws]
SIR TOBY. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this
malapert blood from you. [Draws]

Enter OLIVIA

OLIVIA. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee hold.
SIR TOBY. Madam!
OLIVIA. 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!
Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN
I prithee, gentle friend,
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.
SEBASTIAN. 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!
OLIVIA. Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou'dst be rul'd by me!
SEBASTIAN. Madam, I will.
OLIVIA. O, say so, and so be! Exeunt

SCENE II.
OLIVIA'S house

Enter MARIA and CLOWN

MARIA. Nay, I prithee, 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. Exit
CLOWN. 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 and MARIA

SIR TOBY. Jove bless thee, Master Parson.
CLOWN. Bonos dies, Sir Toby; for as the old hermit of Prague, that
never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to 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?
SIR TOBY. To him, Sir Topas.
CLOWN. What ho, I say! Peace in this prison!
SIR TOBY. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.
MALVOLIO. [Within] Who calls there?
CLOWN. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the
lunatic.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.
CLOWN. Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this man!
Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?
SIR TOBY. Well said, Master Parson.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do
not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.
CLOWN. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! 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?
MALVOLIO. As hell, Sir Topas.
CLOWN. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the
clerestories toward the south north are as lustrous as ebony; and
yet complainest thou of obstruction?
MALVOLIO. I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark.
CLOWN. Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but
ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in
their fog.
MALVOLIO. I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though
ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say there was never man
thus abus'd. I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it
in any constant question.
CLOWN. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?
MALVOLIO. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
CLOWN. What think'st thou of his opinion?
MALVOLIO. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his
opinion.
CLOWN. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt
hold th' 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.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas!
SIR TOBY. My most exquisite Sir Topas!
CLOWN. Nay, I am for all waters.
MARIA. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown: he
sees thee not.
SIR TOBY. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou
find'st him. I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may
be conveniently deliver'd, 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.
Exit with MARIA
CLOWN. [Sings] Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
Tell me how thy lady does.
MALVOLIO. Fool!
CLOWN. [Sings] My lady is unkind, perdy.
MALVOLIO. Fool!
CLOWN. [Sings] Alas, why is she so?
MALVOLIO. Fool I say!
CLOWN. [Sings] She loves another- Who calls, ha?
MALVOLIO. 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.
CLOWN. Master Malvolio?
MALVOLIO. Ay, good fool.
CLOWN. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
MALVOLIO. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abus'd;
I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.
CLOWN. But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in
your wits than a fool.
MALVOLIO. 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
wits.
CLOWN. Advise you what. you say: the minister is here.
[Speaking as SIR TOPAS] Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore!
Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble.
MALVOLIO. Sir Topas!
CLOWN. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.- Who, I, sir? Not
I, sir. God buy you, good Sir Topas.- Marry, amen.- I will sir, I
will.
MALVOLIO. Fool, fool, fool, I say!
CLOWN. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for
speaking to you.
MALVOLIO. 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.
CLOWN. Well-a-day that you were, sir!
MALVOLIO. 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.
CLOWN. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad
indeed, or do you but counterfeit?
MALVOLIO. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.
CLOWN. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains.
I will fetch you light and paper and ink.
MALVOLIO. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree; I prithe be
gone.
CLOWN. [Singing]
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 devil. Exit

SCENE III.
OLIVIA'S garden

Enter SEBASTIAN

SEBASTIAN. 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 dispatch
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing,
As I perceive she does. There's something in't
That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.

Enter OLIVIA and PRIEST

OLIVIA. 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 fun 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?
SEBASTIAN. I'll follow this good man, and go with you;
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
OLIVIA. Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine
That they may fairly note this act of mine! Exeunt

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ACT V. SCENE I.
Before OLIVIA's house

Enter CLOWN and FABIAN

FABIAN. Now, as thou lov'st me, let me see his letter.
CLOWN. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.
FABIAN. Anything.
CLOWN. Do not desire to see this letter.
FABIAN. This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog
again.

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and LORDS

DUKE. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?
CLOWN. Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.
DUKE. I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow?
CLOWN. Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my
friends.
DUKE. Just the contrary: the better for thy friends.
CLOWN. No, sir, the worse.
DUKE. How can that be?
CLOWN. Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my
foes tell me plainly I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I
profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused;
so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make
your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and
the better for my foes.
DUKE. Why, this is excellent.
CLOWN. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my
friends.
DUKE. Thou shalt not be the worse for me. There's gold.
CLOWN. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could
make it another.
DUKE. O, you give me ill counsel.
CLOWN. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let
your flesh and blood obey it.
DUKE. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer.
There's another.
CLOWN. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying
is 'The third pays for all.' The triplex, sir, is a good tripping
measure; or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind-
one, two, three.
DUKE. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw; if you
will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring
her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.
CLOWN. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go,
sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having
is the sin of covetousness. But, as you say, sir, let your bounty
take a nap; I will awake it anon. Exit

Enter ANTONIO and OFFICERS

VIOLA. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
DUKE. That face of his I do remember well;
Yet when I saw it last it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war.
A baubling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught and bulk unprizable,
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet
That very envy and the tongue of los
Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter?
FIRST OFFICER. Orsino, this is that Antonio
That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy;
And this is he that did the Tiger board
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg.
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.
VIOLA. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side;
But in conclusion put strange speech upon me.
I know not what 'twas but distraction.
DUKE. Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief!
What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies
Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,
Hast made thine enemies?
ANTONIO. Orsino, noble sir,
Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me:
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,
Though I confess, on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ingrateful boy there by your side
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was.
His life I gave him, and did thereto ad
My love without retention or restraint,
All his in dedication; for his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him when he was beset;
Where being apprehended, his false cunning,
Not meaning to partake with me in danger,
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty years removed thing
While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.
VIOLA. How can this be?
DUKE. When came he to this town?
ANTONIO. To-day, my lord; and for three months before,
No int'rim, not a minute's vacancy,
Both day and night did we keep company.

Enter OLIVIA and ATTENDANTS

DUKE. Here comes the Countess; now heaven walks on earth.
But for thee, fellow- fellow, thy words are madness.
Three months this youth hath tended upon me-
But more of that anon. Take him aside.
OLIVIA. What would my lord, but that he may not have,
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
VIOLA. Madam?
DUKE. Gracious Olivia-
OLIVIA. What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord-
VIOLA. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.
OLIVIA. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
As howling after music.
DUKE. Still so cruel?
OLIVIA. Still so constant, lord.
DUKE. What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady,
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
My soul the faithfull'st off'rings hath breath'd out
That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?
OLIVIA. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.
DUKE. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death,
Kill what I love?- a savage jealousy
That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still;
But this your minion, whom I know you love,
And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief:
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love
To spite a raven's heart within a dove.
VIOLA. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
OLIVIA. Where goes Cesario?
VIOLA. After him I love
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
If I do feign, you witnesses above
Punish my life for tainting of my love!
OLIVIA. Ay me, detested! How am I beguil'd!
VIOLA. Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?
OLIVIA. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?
Call forth the holy father. Exit an ATTENDANT
DUKE. Come, away!
OLIVIA. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.
DUKE. Husband?
OLIVIA. Ay, husband; can he that deny?
DUKE. Her husband, sirrah?
VIOLA. No, my lord, not I.
OLIVIA. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear
That makes thee strangle thy propriety.
Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up;
Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st.

Enter PRIEST

O, welcome, father!
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold- though lately we intended
To keep in darkness what occasion now
Reveals before 'tis ripe- what thou dost know
Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me.
PRIEST. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strength'ned by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony;
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave,
I have travell'd but two hours.
DUKE. O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be,
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?
Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?
Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.
VIOLA. My lord, I do protest-
OLIVIA. O, do not swear!
Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear.

Enter SIR ANDREW

AGUECHEEK. For the love of God, a surgeon!
Send one presently to Sir Toby.
OLIVIA. What's the matter?
AGUECHEEK. Has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a
bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather
than forty pound I were at home.
OLIVIA. Who has done this, Sir Andrew?
AGUECHEEK. The Count's gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a
coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.
DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario?
AGUECHEEK. Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for
nothing; and that that did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby.
VIOLA. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you.
You drew your sword upon me without cause;
But I bespake you fair and hurt you not.

Enter SIR TOBY and CLOWN

AGUECHEEK. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think
you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby halting;
you shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would
have tickl'd you othergates than he did.
DUKE. How now, gentleman? How is't with you?
SIR TOBY. That's all one; has hurt me, and there's th' end on't.
Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?
CLOWN. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at
eight i' th' morning.
SIR TOBY. Then he's a rogue and a passy measures pavin. I hate a
drunken rogue.
OLIVIA. Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them?
AGUECHEEK. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dress'd
together.
SIR TOBY. Will you help- an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a
thin fac'd knave, a gull?
OLIVIA. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.
Exeunt CLOWN, FABIAN, SIR TOBY, and SIR ANDREW

Enter SEBASTIAN

SEBASTIAN. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman;
But, had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that
I do perceive it hath offended you.
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.
DUKE. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!
A natural perspective, that is and is not.
SEBASTIAN. Antonio, O my dear Antonio!
How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me
Since I have lost thee!
ANTONIO. Sebastian are you?
SEBASTIAN. Fear'st thou that, Antonio?
ANTONIO. How have you made division of yourself?
An apple cleft in two is not more twin
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
OLIVIA. Most wonderful!
SEBASTIAN. Do I stand there? I never had a brother;
Nor can there be that deity in my nature
Of here and everywhere. I had a sister
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd.
Of charity, what kin are you to me?
What countryman, what name, what parentage?
VIOLA. Of Messaline; Sebastian was my father.
Such a Sebastian was my brother too;
So went he suited to his watery tomb;
If spirits can assume both form and suit,
You come to fright us.
SEBASTIAN. A spirit I am indeed,
But am in that dimension grossly clad
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say 'Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!'
VIOLA. My father had a mole upon his brow.
SEBASTIAN. And so had mine.
VIOLA. And died that day when Viola from her birth
Had numb'red thirteen years.
SEBASTIAN. O, that record is lively in my soul!
He finished indeed his mortal act
That day that made my sister thirteen years.
VIOLA. If nothing lets to make us happy both
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
That I am Viola; which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
I was preserv'd to serve this noble Count.
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
SEBASTIAN. [To OLIVIA] So Comes it, lady, you have been mistook;
But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to a maid;
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd;
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
DUKE. Be not amaz'd; right noble is his blood.
If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
I shall have share in this most happy wreck.
[To VIOLA] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times
Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
VIOLA. And all those sayings will I overswear;
And all those swearings keep as true in soul
As doth that orbed continent the fire
That severs day from night.
DUKE. Give me thy hand;
And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
VIOLA. The captain that did bring me first on shore
Hath my maid's garments. He, upon some action,
Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit,
A gentleman and follower of my lady's.
OLIVIA. He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither;
And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.

Re-enter CLOWN, with a letter, and FABIAN

A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.
How does he, sirrah?
CLOWN. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end as well
as a man in his case may do. Has here writ a letter to you; I
should have given 't you to-day morning, but as a madman's
epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are
deliver'd.
OLIVIA. Open't, and read it.
CLOWN. Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the
madman. [Reads madly ] 'By the Lord, madam-'
OLIVIA. How now! Art thou mad?
CLOWN. No, madam, I do but read madness. An your ladyship will have
it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.
OLIVIA. Prithee read i' thy right wits.
CLOWN. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read
thus; therefore perpend, my Princess, and give ear.
OLIVIA. [To FABIAN] Read it you, sirrah.
FABIAN. [Reads] 'By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world
shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given
your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my
senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that
induced me to the semblance I put on, with the which I doubt not
but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you
please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of
my injury.
THE MADLY-US'D MALVOLIO'

OLIVIA. Did he write this?
CLOWN. Ay, Madam.
DUKE. This savours not much of distraction.
OLIVIA. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.
Exit FABIAN
My lord, so please you, these things further thought on,
To think me as well a sister as a wife,
One day shall crown th' alliance on't, so please you,
Here at my house, and at my proper cost.
DUKE. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer.
[To VIOLA] Your master quits you; and, for your service done
him,
So much against the mettle of your sex,
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,
And since you call'd me master for so long,
Here is my hand; you shall from this time be
You master's mistress.
OLIVIA. A sister! You are she.

Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO

DUKE. Is this the madman?
OLIVIA. Ay, my lord, this same.
How now, Malvolio!
MALVOLIO. Madam, you have done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.
OLIVIA. Have I, Malvolio? No.
MALVOLIO. Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter.
You must not now deny it is your hand;
Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase;
Or say 'tis not your seal, not your invention;
You can say none of this. Well, grant it then,
And tell me, in the modesty of honour,
Why you have given me such clear lights of favour,
Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow stockings, and to frown
Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people;
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck and gul
That e'er invention play'd on? Tell me why.
OLIVIA. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Though, I confess, much like the character;
But out of question 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was she
First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling,
And in such forms which here were presuppos'd
Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content;
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee,
But, when we know the grounds and authors of it,
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Of thine own cause.
FABIAN. Good madam, hear me speak,
And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come
Taint the condition of this present hour,
Which I have wond'red at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confess myself and Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
We had conceiv'd against him. Maria writ
The letter, at Sir Toby's great importance,
In recompense whereof he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge,
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd
That have on both sides pass'd.
OLIVIA. Alas, poor fool, how have they baffl'd thee!
CLOWN. Why, 'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
have greatness thrown upon them.' I was one, sir, in this
interlude- one Sir Topas, sir; but that's all one. 'By the Lord,
fool, I am not mad!' But do you remember- 'Madam, why laugh you
at such a barren rascal? An you smile not, he's gagg'd'? And thus
the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
MALVOLIO. I'll be reveng'd on the whole pack of you.
Exit
OLIVIA. He hath been most notoriously abus'd.
DUKE. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace;
He hath not told us of the captain yet.
When that is known, and golden time convents,
A solemn combination shall be made
Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister,
We will not part from hence. Cesario, come;
For so you shall be while you are a man;
But when in other habits you are seen,
Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen.
Exeunt all but the CLOWN

CLOWN sings

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.
Exit

THE END

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1595

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA

by William Shakespeare

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

DUKE OF MILAN, father to Silvia
VALENTINE, one of the two gentlemen
PROTEUS, " " " " "
ANTONIO, father to Proteus
THURIO, a foolish rival to Valentine
EGLAMOUR, agent for Silvia in her escape
SPEED, a clownish servant to Valentine
LAUNCE, the like to Proteus
PANTHINO, servant to Antonio
HOST, where Julia lodges in Milan
OUTLAWS, with Valentine

JULIA, a lady of Verona, beloved of Proteus
SILVIA, the Duke's daughter, beloved of Valentine
LUCETTA, waiting-woman to Julia

SERVANTS
MUSICIANS

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SCENE:
Verona; Milan; the frontiers of Mantua

ACT I. SCENE I.
Verona. An open place

Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS

VALENTINE. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
Were't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
But since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein,
Even as I would, when I to love begin.
PROTEUS. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu!
Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest
Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel.
Wish me partaker in thy happiness
When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy headsman, Valentine.
VALENTINE. And on a love-book pray for my success?
PROTEUS. Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee.
VALENTINE. That's on some shallow story of deep love:
How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.
PROTEUS. That's a deep story of a deeper love;
For he was more than over shoes in love.
VALENTINE. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love,
And yet you never swum the Hellespont.
PROTEUS. Over the boots! Nay, give me not the boots.
VALENTINE. No, I will not, for it boots thee not.
PROTEUS. What?
VALENTINE. To be in love- where scorn is bought with groans,
Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment's mirth
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights;
If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;
If lost, why then a grievous labour won;
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
PROTEUS. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
VALENTINE. So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove.
PROTEUS. 'Tis love you cavil at; I am not Love.
VALENTINE. Love is your master, for he masters you;
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.
PROTEUS. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
VALENTINE. And writers say, as the most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,
Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime,
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsel the
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu. My father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.
PROTEUS. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
VALENTINE. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.
To Milan let me hear from thee by letters
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
And I likewise will visit thee with mine.
PROTEUS. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
VALENTINE. As much to you at home; and so farewell!
Exit VALENTINE
PROTEUS. He after honour hunts, I after love;
He leaves his friends to dignify them more:
I leave myself, my friends, and all for love.
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphis'd me,
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at nought;
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.

Enter SPEED

SPEED. Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you my master?
PROTEUS. But now he parted hence to embark for Milan.
SPEED. Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already,
And I have play'd the sheep in losing him.
PROTEUS. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray,
An if the shepherd be awhile away.
SPEED. You conclude that my master is a shepherd then, and
I a sheep?
PROTEUS. I do.
SPEED. Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep.
PROTEUS. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.
SPEED. This proves me still a sheep.
PROTEUS. True; and thy master a shepherd.
SPEED. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
PROTEUS. It shall go hard but I'll prove it by another.
SPEED. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the
shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me;
therefore, I am no sheep.
PROTEUS. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd; the shepherd for
food follows not the sheep: thou for wages followest thy master;
thy master for wages follows not thee. Therefore, thou art a
sheep.
SPEED. Such another proof will make me cry 'baa.'
PROTEUS. But dost thou hear? Gav'st thou my letter to Julia?
SPEED. Ay, sir; I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a lac'd
mutton; and she, a lac'd mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing
for my labour.
PROTEUS. Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons.
SPEED. If the ground be overcharg'd, you were best stick her.
PROTEUS. Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best pound you.
SPEED. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your
letter.
PROTEUS. You mistake; I mean the pound- a pinfold.
SPEED. From a pound to a pin? Fold it over and over,
'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.
PROTEUS. But what said she?
SPEED. [Nodding] Ay.
PROTEUS. Nod- ay. Why, that's 'noddy.'
SPEED. You mistook, sir; I say she did nod; and you ask me if she
did nod; and I say 'Ay.'
PROTEUS. And that set together is 'noddy.'
SPEED. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for
your pains.
PROTEUS. No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter.
SPEED. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.
PROTEUS. Why, sir, how do you bear with me?
SPEED. Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly; having nothing but the
word 'noddy' for my pains.
PROTEUS. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
SPEED. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
PROTEUS. Come, come, open the matter; in brief, what said she?
SPEED. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both
at once delivered.
PROTEUS. Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she?
SPEED. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.
PROTEUS. Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her?
SPEED. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so
much as a ducat for delivering your letter; and being so hard to
me that brought your mind, I fear she'll prove as hard to you in
telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she's as
hard as steel.
PROTEUS. What said she? Nothing?
SPEED. No, not so much as 'Take this for thy pains.' To testify
your bounty, I thank you, you have testern'd me; in requital
whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself; and so, sir,
I'll commend you to my master.
PROTEUS. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck,
Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being destin'd to a drier death on shore. Exit SPEED
I must go send some better messenger.
I fear my Julia would not deign my lines,
Receiving them from such a worthless post. Exit

SCENE II.
Verona. The garden Of JULIA'S house

Enter JULIA and LUCETTA

JULIA. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?
LUCETTA. Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheedfully.
JULIA. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen
That every day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
LUCETTA. Please you, repeat their names; I'll show my mind
According to my shallow simple skill.
JULIA. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
LUCETTA. As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine;
But, were I you, he never should be mine.
JULIA. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
LUCETTA. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so.
JULIA. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?
LUCETTA. Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us!
JULIA. How now! what means this passion at his name?
LUCETTA. Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing shame
That I, unworthy body as I am,
Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.
JULIA. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
LUCETTA. Then thus: of many good I think him best.
JULIA. Your reason?
LUCETTA. I have no other but a woman's reason:
I think him so, because I think him so.
JULIA. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him?
LUCETTA. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
JULIA. Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov'd me.
LUCETTA. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye.
JULIA. His little speaking shows his love but small.
LUCETTA. Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.
JULIA. They do not love that do not show their love.
LUCETTA. O, they love least that let men know their love.
JULIA. I would I knew his mind.
LUCETTA. Peruse this paper, madam.
JULIA. 'To Julia'- Say, from whom?
LUCETTA. That the contents will show.
JULIA. Say, say, who gave it thee?
LUCETTA. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus.
He would have given it you; but I, being in the way,
Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I pray.
JULIA. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place.
There, take the paper; see it be return'd;
Or else return no more into my sight.
LUCETTA. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
JULIA. Will ye be gone?
LUCETTA. That you may ruminate. Exit
JULIA. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter.
It were a shame to call her back again,
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
What fool is she, that knows I am a maid
And would not force the letter to my view!
Since maids, in modesty, say 'No' to that
Which they would have the profferer construe 'Ay.'
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love,
That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod!
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here!
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile!
My penance is to call Lucetta back
And ask remission for my folly past.
What ho! Lucetta!

Re-enter LUCETTA

LUCETTA. What would your ladyship?
JULIA. Is't near dinner time?
LUCETTA. I would it were,
That you might kill your stomach on your meat
And not upon your maid.
JULIA. What is't that you took up so gingerly?
LUCETTA. Nothing.
JULIA. Why didst thou stoop then?
LUCETTA. To take a paper up that I let fall.
JULIA. And is that paper nothing?
LUCETTA. Nothing concerning me.
JULIA. Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
LUCETTA. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,
Unless it have a false interpreter.
JULIA. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
LUCETTA. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune.
Give me a note; your ladyship can set.
JULIA. As little by such toys as may be possible.
Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' Love.'
LUCETTA. It is too heavy for so light a tune.
JULIA. Heavy! belike it hath some burden then.
LUCETTA. Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it.
JULIA. And why not you?
LUCETTA. I cannot reach so high.
JULIA. Let's see your song. [LUCETTA withholds the letter]
How now, minion!
LUCETTA. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out.
And yet methinks I do not like this tune.
JULIA. You do not!
LUCETTA. No, madam; 'tis too sharp.
JULIA. You, minion, are too saucy.
LUCETTA. Nay, now you are too flat
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant;
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.
JULIA. The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass.
LUCETTA. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.
JULIA. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears the letter]
Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie.
You would be fing'ring them, to anger me.
LUCETTA. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd
To be so ang'red with another letter. Exit
JULIA. Nay, would I were so ang'red with the same!
O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey
And kill the bees that yield it with your stings!
I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia,
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.'
Poor wounded name! my bosom,,as a bed,
Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down.
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
Till I have found each letter in the letter-
Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear
Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock,
And throw it thence into the raging sea.
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ:
'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia.' That I'll tear away;
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names.
Thus will I fold them one upon another;
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

Re-enter LUCETTA

LUCETTA. Madam,
Dinner is ready, and your father stays.
JULIA. Well, let us go.
LUCETTA. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here?
JULIA. If you respect them, best to take them up.
LUCETTA. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down;
Yet here they shall not lie for catching cold.
JULIA. I see you have a month's mind to them.
LUCETTA. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you judge I wink.
JULIA. Come, come; will't please you go? Exeunt

SCENE III.
Verona. ANTONIO'S house

Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO

ANTONIO. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?

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