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)

    266 Twelfe Night, or, What you will.
    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:
    1370But rather reason thus, with reason fetter;
    Loue sought, is good: but giuen vnsought, is better.
    Vio. By innocence I sweare, and by my youth,
    I haue one heart, one bosome, and one truth,
    And that no woman has, nor neuer none
    1375Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone.
    And so adieu good Madam, neuer more,
    Will I my Masters teares to you deplore.
    Ol. Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst moue
    That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue. Exeunt

    1380Scoena Secunda.

    Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

    And. No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer:
    To. Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason.
    Fab. You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir An-
    And. Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to the
    Counts Seruing-man, then euer she bestow'd vpon mee:
    I saw't i'th Orchard.
    To. Did she see the while, old boy, tell me that.
    1390And. As plaine as I see you now.
    Fab. This was a great argument of loue in her toward
    And. S'light; will you make an Asse o'me.
    Fab. I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of
    1395iudgement, and reason.
    To. And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before
    Noah was a Saylor.
    Fab. Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight,
    onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour,
    1400to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer:
    you should then haue accosted her, and with some excel-
    lent iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd
    the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your
    hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this oppor-
    1405tunitie you let time wash off, and you are now sayld into
    the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang
    like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do re-
    deeme it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or
    1410And. And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for
    policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politi-
    To. Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of
    valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him
    1415hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note of it,
    and assure thy selfe, there is no loue-Broker in the world,
    can more preuaile in mans commendation with woman,
    then report of valour.
    Fab. There is no way but this sir Andrew.
    1420An. Will either of you beare me a challenge to him?
    To. Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and briefe:
    it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of
    inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if thou
    thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and as ma-
    1425ny Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the
    sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in Eng-
    land, set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle e-
    nough in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose-pen,
    no matter: about it.
    1430And. Where shall I finde you?
    To. Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.
    Exit Sir Andrew.
    Fa. This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby.
    To. I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand
    1435strong, or so.
    Fa. We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le
    not deliuer't.
    To. Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on
    the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes
    1440cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd
    and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the
    foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th'anatomy.
    Fab. And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no
    great presage of cruelty.

    1445Enter Maria.

    To. Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes.
    Mar. If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your
    selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is tur-
    ned Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian
    1450that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer
    beleeue such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in
    yellow stockings.
    To. And crosse garter'd?
    Mar. Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a
    1455Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murthe-
    rer. He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt,
    to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes,
    then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the
    Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hard-
    1460ly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will
    strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great
    To. Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.
    Exeunt Omnes.

    1465Scaena Tertia.

    Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.

    Seb. I would not by my will haue troubled you,
    But since you make your pleasure of your paines,
    I will no further chide you.
    1470Ant. I could not stay behinde you: my desire
    (More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth,
    And not all loue to see you (though so much
    As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage)
    But iealousie, what might befall your rrauell,
    1475Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger,
    Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue
    Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue,
    The rather by these arguments of feare
    Set forth in your pursuite.
    1480Seb. My kinde Anthonio,
    I can no other answer make, but thankes,
    And thankes: and euer oft good turnes,
    Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay:
    But were my worth, as is my conscience firme,