Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

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.

  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. 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. 'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.'

  FABIAN. Good and valiant.

  SIR TOBY. '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. '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. '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. '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. Marry,

    I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA

I have his horse to take up the quarrel; I have

    persuaded him the youth's a devil.

  FABIAN. He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants

   and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

  SIR TOBY. 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. 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!

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.

Enter OFFICERS

FABIAN. O good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the officers.

  SIR TOBY. 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. 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 cal