Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Twelfth Night (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editors: David Carnegie, Mark Houlahan
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-372-4

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editors: David Carnegie, Mark Houlahan
    Peer Reviewed

    Twelfth Night (Folio 1, 1623)

    Twelfe Night, or, What you will.
    Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow
    95What my estate is.
    Cap. That were hard to compasse,
    Because she will admit no kinde of suite,
    No, not the Dukes.
    Vio. There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine,
    100And though that nature, with a beauteous wall
    Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee
    I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites
    With this thy faire and outward charracter.
    I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously)
    105Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde,
    For such disguise as haply shall become
    The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke,
    Thou shalt present me as an Eunuch to him,
    It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing,
    110And speake to him in many sorts of Musicke,
    That will allow me very worth his seruice.
    What else may hap, to time I will commit,
    Onely shape thou thy silence to my wit.
    Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee,
    115When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
    Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.

    Scæna Tertia.

    Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.
    Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the
    120death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to
    Mar. By my troth sir Toby you must come in earlyer
    a nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions
    to your ill houres.
    125To. Why let her except, before excepted.
    Ma. I, but you must confine your selfe within the
    modest limits of order.
    To. Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am:
    these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee
    130these boots too: and they be not, let them hang them-
    selues in their owne straps.
    Ma. That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I
    heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish
    knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer
    135To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke?
    Ma. I he.
    To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
    Ma. What's that to th'purpose?
    To. Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare.
    140Ma. I, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates:
    He's a very foole, and a prodigall.
    To. Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol-de-gan-
    boys, and speaks three or four languages word for word
    without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature.
    145Ma. He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that
    he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath
    the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrel-
    ling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely
    haue the gift of a graue.
    150Tob. By this hand they are scoundrels and substra-
    ctors that say so of him. Who are they?
    Ma. They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly
    in your company.
    To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke
    155to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke
    in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not
    drinke to my Neece. till his braines turne o'th toe, like a
    parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo : for here coms
    Sir Andrew Agueface.
    Enter Sir Andrew.
    And. Sir Toby Belch. How now sir Toby Belch?
    To. Sweet sir Andrew.
    And. Blesse you faire Shrew.
    Mar. And you too sir.
    165Tob. Accost Sir Andrew, accost.
    And. What's that?
    To. My Neeces Chamber-maid.
    Ma. Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance
    Ma. My name is Mary sir.
    170And. Good mistris Mary, accost.
    To, You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord
    her, woe her, assayle her.
    And. By my troth I would not vndertake her in this
    company. Is that the meaning of Accost?
    175Ma. Far you well Gentlemen.
    To. And thou let part so Sir Andrew, would thou
    mightst neuer draw sword agen.
    And. And you part so mistris, I would I might neuer
    draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue
    180fooles in hand?
    Ma. Sir, I haue not you by'th hand.
    An. Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand.
    Ma. Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your
    hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke.
    185An. Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Meta-
    Ma. It's dry sir.
    And. Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I
    can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest?
    190Ma. A dry iest Sir.
    And. Are you full of them?
    Ma. I Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now
    I let go your hand, I am barren.
    Exit Maria
    To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did
    195I see thee so put downe?
    An. Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Ca-
    narie put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no
    more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I
    am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme
    200to my wit.
    To. No question.
    An. And I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride
    home to morrow sir Toby.
    To. Pur-quoy my deere knight?
    205An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had
    bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing
    dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the
    To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire.
    210An. Why, would that haue mended my haire?
    To. Past question, for thou seest it will not coole my
    An. But it becoms we wel enough, dost not?
    To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope
    to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off.
    215An. Faith Ile home to morrow sir Toby , your niece wil
    not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me:
    the Connt himselfe here hard by, wooes her.
    To. Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir
    degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her
    220swear t. Tut there's life in't man.
    Twelfe Night, or, What you will.