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X
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will
by William Shakespeare
ACT III. SCENE I.
OLIVIA'S garden.
[Enter VIOLA, and CLOWN with a tabor.]
VIOLA. Save thee, friend, and thy music! dost thou
live by thy tabor?
CLOWN. No, sir, I live by the church.
VIOLA. Art thou a churchman?
CLOWN. No such matter, sir: I do live by the church;
for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
VIOLA. So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar,
if a beggar dwell near him; or the church stands by thy tabor,
if thy tabor stand by the church.
CLOWN. You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence
is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong
side may be turn'd outward!
VIOLA. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely
with words may quickly make them wanton.
CLOWN. I would, therefore, my sister had had no name,
sir.
VIOLA. Why, man?
CLOWN. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally
with that word might make my sister wanton. But, indeed, words
are very rascals since bonds disgrac'd them.
VIOLA. Thy reason, man?
CLOWN. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words;
and words are grown so false, I am loth to prove reason
with them.
VIOLA. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st
for nothing.
CLOWN. Not so, sir; I do care for something; but
in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care
for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
VIOLA. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?
CLOWN. No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly:
she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools
are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the
bigger. I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of
words.
VIOLA. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.
CLOWN. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like
the sun, it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the
fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress. I think
I saw your wisdom there.
VIOLA. Nay, and thou pass upon me, I'll no more with
thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee.
CLOWN. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send
thee a beard!
VIOLA. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick
for one; [Aside] though I would not have it grow on my chin.
Is thy lady within?
CLOWN. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
VIOLA. Yes, being kept together and put to use.
CLOWN. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir,
to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
VIOLA. I understand you, sir; 't is well begg'd.
CLOWN. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging
but a beggar. Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within,
sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are and what
you would are out of my welkin,— I might say 'element,' but the
word is over-worn. [Exit.]
VIOLA. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice As full of labour as a wise man's art:
For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their
wit.
[Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW.]
SIR TOBY. Save you, gentleman!
VIOLA. And you, sir.
SIR ANDREW. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
VIOLA. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
SIR ANDREW. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
SIR TOBY. Will you encounter the house? my niece is
desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
VIOLA. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she
is the list of my voyage.
SIR TOBY. Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.
VIOLA. My legs do better understand me, sir, than
I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
SIR TOBY. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
VIOLA. I will answer you with gait and entrance.
But we are prevented.
[Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.]
Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odours on you!
SIR ANDREW. That youth's a rare courtier. 'Rain odours';
well.
VIOLA. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your
own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
SIR ANDREW. 'Odours,' 'pregnant,' and 'vouchsafed': I'll
get 'em all three all ready.
OLIVIA. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me
to my hearing. [Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA.]
Give me your hand, sir.
VIOLA. My duty, madam, and most humble service.
OLIVIA. What is your name?
VIOLA. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
OLIVIA. My servant, sir! 'T was never merry world
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment; You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
VIOLA. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours;
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
OLIVIA. For him, I think not on him; for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
VIOLA. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf.
OLIVIA. O, by your leave, I pray you,
I bade you never speak again of him; But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that Than music from the spheres.
VIOLA. Dear lady,—
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 ***,
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 't is a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.
OLIVIA. Why, then methinks 't is 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 ***, 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.]
SIR ANDREW. 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.
SIR ANDREW. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to
the count's serving-man 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.
SIR ANDREW. As plain as I see you now.
FABIAN. This was a great argument of love in her toward
SIR ANDREW. 'Slight, will you make an *** 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 ***'d the youth into dumbness. This
was look'd for at your hand, and this was balk'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.
SIR ANDREW. And'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.
SIR ANDREW. 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.
SIR ANDREW. 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 wain-ropes 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.
SIR TOBY. Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.
[Enter MARIA.]
MARIA. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves
into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is
turn'd heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian, that
means to be sav'd 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 't is. 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; too 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 't is 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, sweet-heart, 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?
MALVOLIO. '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-garter'd.'
OLIVIA. Cross-garter'd!
MALVOLIO. 'Go to, thou art 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, every thing
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 thank'd.
[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
possessed him, yet I 'll speak to him.
FABIAN. Here he is, here he is. How is 't with you,
sir? 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, and you speak ill of the devil, how
he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitch'd! 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! 't is
not for gravity to play at cherry-pit 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.
SIR ANDREW. Here 's the challenge, read it; I warrant
there 's vinegar and pepper in 't.
FABIAN. Is 't so saucy?
SIR ANDREW. 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. [Reads.] 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 see'st
him, draw; and as thou drawest, 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!
SIR ANDREW. 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 a notable report of valour; and
drive the gentleman, as I 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 grief.
OLIVIA. Here, wear this jewel for me, 't is 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 FABIAN.]
SIR TOBY. Gentleman, God save thee!
VIOLA. And you, sir.
SIR TOBY. That defence thou hast, betake thee to 't.
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, ***, 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.]
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 had 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.
SIR ANDREW. 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.
SIR ANDREW. Plague on 't; and 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, gray 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. 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.
SIR ANDREW. Pray God, he keep his oath!
VIOLA. I do assure you 't is against my will. [They
draw]
[Enter ANTONIO.]
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. I 'll be with you anon.
VIOLA. Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
SIR ANDREW. 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.
1 OFFICER. This is the man; do thy office.
2 OFFICER. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit
Of Count Orsino.
ANTONIO. You do mistake me, sir.
1 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.
2 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!
2 OFFICER. Come, sir, I pray you, go.
ANTONIO. Let me speak a little. This youth that you
see here I ***'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.
1 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.
1 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.
SIR ANDREW. 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.
SIR TOBY. Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
SIR ANDREW. And I do not,—
[Exit.]
FABIAN. Come, let's see the event.
SIR TOBY. I dare lay any money 't will be nothing yet.
[Exeunt.]
End of Scene IV. End of Act III.
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