If music be the food of love, play on,

1.1.26Give me excess of it, that surfeiting,

1.1.37The appetite may sicken, and so die.

1.1.48[To the Musicians] That strain again! It had a dying fall;

1.1.59Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound

1.1.610That breathes upon a bank of violets,

1.1.711Stealing, and giving odor. [To the Musicians] Enough, no more.

1.1.812'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

1.1.913O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou,

1.1.1014That notwithstanding thy capacity

1.1.1115Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,

1.1.1216Of what validity and pitch soe'er,

1.1.1317But falls into abatement and low price

1.1.1418Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy,

1.1.1519That it alone is high fantastical.

Will you go hunt, my Lord?

Will you go hunt, my Lord? What, Curio?

Will you go hunt, my Lord? What, Curio? The hart.

Why so I do, the noblest that I have.

1.1.1824O when mine eyes did see Olivia first,

1.1.1925Methought she purged the air of pestilence;

1.1.2026That instant was I turned into a hart,

1.1.2127And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,

1.1.2228E'er since pursue me.

E'er since pursue me. How now, what news from her?

So please my lord, I might not be admitted,

1.1.2431But from her handmaid do return this answer:

1.1.2532The element itself, till seven years' heat,

1.1.2633Shall not behold her face at ample view;

1.1.2734But like a cloistress she will veilèd walk,

1.1.2835And water once a day her chamber round

1.1.2936With eye-offending brine--all this to season

1.1.3037A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh

1.1.3138And lasting in her sad remembrance.

O she that hath a heart of that fine frame

1.1.3340To pay this debt of love but to a brother,

1.1.3441How will she love, when the rich golden shaft

1.1.3542Hath killed the flock of all affections else

1.1.3643That live in her--when liver, brain, and heart,

1.1.3744These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled

1.1.3845Her sweet perfections, with one self king!

1.1.3946Away before me, to sweet beds of flowers;

1.1.4047Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.

What country, friends, is this?

This is Illyria, lady.

And what should I do in Illyria?

1.2.454My brother he is in Elysium.

1.2.555Perchance he is not drowned--what think you, sailors?

It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

Oh, my poor brother! And so perchance may he be.

True, madam, and to comfort you with chance,

1.2.959Assure your self, after our ship did split,

1.2.1060When you, and those poor number saved with you,

1.2.1161Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,

1.2.1262Most provident in peril, bind himself--

1.2.1363Courage and hope both teaching him the practice--

1.2.1464To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea;

1.2.1565Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,

1.2.1666I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves

1.2.1767So long as I could see.

[Giving him gold] For saying so, there's gold.

1.2.1969Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,

1.2.2070Whereto thy speech serves for authority,

1.2.2171The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

Ay, madam, well, for I was bred and born

1.2.2373Not three hours' travel from this very place.

Who governs here?

A noble duke, in nature as in name.

What is his name?

Orsino.

Orsino! I have heard my father name him.

1.2.2979He was a bachelor then.

And so is now, or was so very late;

1.2.3181For but a month ago I went from hence,

1.2.3282And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as you know,

1.2.3383What great ones do, the less will prattle of)

1.2.3484That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

What's she?

A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count

1.2.3787That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her

1.2.3888In the protection of his son, her brother,

1.2.3989Who shortly also died; for whose dear love,

1.2.4090They say, she hath abjured the sight

1.2.4191And company of men.

Oh, that I served that lady,

1.2.4393And might not be delivered to the world

1.2.4494Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,

1.2.4595What my estate is!

What my estate is! That were hard to compass,

1.2.4697Because she will admit no kind of suit,

1.2.4798No, not the duke's.

There is a fair behavior in thee, Captain;

1.2.49100And though that nature with a beauteous wall

1.2.50101Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee

1.2.51102I will believe thou hast a mind that suits

1.2.52103With this thy fair and outward character.

1.2.53104I prithee--and I'll pay thee bounteously--

1.2.54105Conceal me what I am, and be my aid

1.2.55106For such disguise as haply shall become

1.2.56107The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke.

1.2.57108Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him--

1.2.58109It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing,

1.2.59110And speak to him in many sorts of music,

1.2.60111That will allow me very worth his service.

1.2.61112What else may hap, to time I will commit,

1.2.62113Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be;

1.2.64115When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

I thank thee. Lead me on.

What a plague means my niece to take the 120death of her brother thus! I am sure care's an enemy to 121life.

By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier 123a-nights. Your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions 124to your ill hours.

Why let her except, before excepted.

Ay, but you must confine yourself within the 127modest limits of order.

Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am! 129These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be 130these boots too; an they be not, let them hang 131themselves in their own straps.

That quaffing and drinking will undo you. I 133heard my lady talk of it yesterday--and of a foolish 134knight that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer.

Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

Ay, he.

He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

What's that to th'purpose?

Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats. 141He's a very fool, and a prodigal.

Fie that you'll say so! He plays o'th'viol-de-gamboys, 143and speaks three or four languages word for word 144without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

He hath indeed, all most natural. For besides that 146he's a fool, he's a great quarreler; and but that he hath 147the gift of a coward, to allay the gust he hath in 148quarreling, 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly 149have the gift of a grave.

By this hand, they are scoundrels and 151substractors that say so of him. Who are they?

They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly 153in your company.

With drinking healths to my niece! I'll drink 155to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink 156in Illyria. He's a coward and a coistrel that will not 157drink to my niece till his brains turn o'th'toe, like a 158parish top.

1.3.18158.1What, wench! Castiliano vulgo; for here comes 159Sir Andrew Agueface.

Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch!

Sweet Sir Andrew!

Bless you, fair shrew.

And you too, sir.

Accost, Sir Andrew, accost!

What's that?

My niece's chambermaid.

Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

My name is Mary, sir.

Good Mistress Mary Accost--

[Aside to Sir Andrew] You mistake, knight. "Accost" is front her, board 172her, woo her, assail her.

[Aside to Sir Toby, indicating audience] By my troth, I would not undertake her in this 174company. Is that the meaning of "accost"?

Fare you well, gentlemen.

[Aside to Sir Andrew] An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou 177might'st never draw sword again.

An you part so, mistress, I would I might never 179draw sword again! Fair lady, do you think you have 180fools in hand?

Sir, I have not you by th'hand.

Marry, but you shall have, and here's my hand.

[Taking his hand] Now sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your 184hand to th'buttery bar, and let it drink.

Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your 186metaphor?

It's dry, sir.

Why, I think so. I am not such an ass but I 189can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?

A dry jest, sir.

Are you full of them?

Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends. [Letting go his hand] Marry, now 193I let go your hand, I am barren.

O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary. [Pouring wine] When did 195I see thee so put down?

Never in your life, I think, unless you see 197canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no 198more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has. But I 199am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm 200to my wit.

No question.

An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride 203home tomorrow, Sir Toby.

Pourquoi, my dear knight?

What is pourquoi? "Do," or "not do"? I would I had 206bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, 207dancing, and bear-baiting. O had I but followed the 208arts!

Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

Why, would that have mended my hair?

Past question, for thou see'st it will not curl by nature.

But it becomes me well enough, dost not?

Excellent! It hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope 214to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.

Faith, I'll home tomorrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will 216not be seen, or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me. 217The count himself here hard by woos her.

She'll none o'th'count. She'll not match above her 219degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her 220swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man.

I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o'th' 222strangest mind i'th'world. I delight in masques and 223revels sometimes altogether.

Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under 226the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with 227an old man.

What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

Faith, I can cut a caper.

And I can cut the mutton to it.

And I think I have the back-trick simply as 232strong as any man in Illyria.

Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have 234these gifts a curtain before 'em? Are they like to take 235dust, like Mistress Moll's picture? Why dost thou not go 236to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? 237My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much 238as make water but in a cinquepace! What dost thou 239mean! Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think by 240the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed 241under the star of a galliard.

Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a 243flame-colored stock. Shall we set about some revels?

What shall we do else? Were we not born under 245Taurus!

Taurus? That's sides and heart.

No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee 248caper.

1.3.68Ha, higher! Ha, ha, excellent!

If the Duke continue these favors towards you, 252Cesario, you are like to be much advanced. He hath known 253you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

You either fear his humor, or my negligence, 255that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is 256he inconstant, sir, in his favors?

No, believe me.

I thank you. Here comes the count.

Who saw Cesario, ho?

On your attendance, my lord, here.

[To the Courtiers] Stand you awhile aloof. [All but Viola stand apart.] Cesario,

1.4.8262Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasped

1.4.9263To thee the book even of my secret soul.

1.4.10264Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her,

1.4.11265Be not denied access, stand at her doors,

1.4.12266And tell them, there thy fixèd foot shall grow

1.4.13267Till thou have audience.

Till thou have audience. Sure, my noble lord,

1.4.14269If she be so abandoned to her sorrow

1.4.15270As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,

1.4.17272Rather than make unprofited return.

Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?

O then unfold the passion of my love,

1.4.20275Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith;

1.4.21276It shall become thee well to act my woes,

1.4.22277She will attend it better in thy youth,

1.4.23278Than in a nuncio's [Indicating Valentine] of more grave aspect.

I think not so, my lord.

I think not so, my lord. Dear lad, believe it;

1.4.25281For they shall yet belie thy happy years

1.4.26282That say thou art a man. Diana's lip

1.4.27283Is not more smooth, and rubious; thy small pipe

1.4.28284Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound;

1.4.29285And all is semblative a woman's part.

1.4.30286I know thy constellation is right apt

1.4.31287For this affair. [To the Courtiers] Some four or five attend him--

1.4.32288All if you will, for I myself am best

1.4.33289When least in company. Prosper well in this,

1.4.34290And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord

1.4.35291To call his fortunes thine.

To call his fortunes thine. I'll do my best

1.4.36293To woo your lady.

To woo your lady. [To the audience] Yet a barful strife;

1.4.37294Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will 298not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter, in way 299of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Let her hang me; he that is well hanged in this 301world needs to fear no colors.

Make that good.

He shall see none to fear!

A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where that 305saying was born, of "I fear no colors."

Where, good Mistress Mary?

In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in 308your foolery.

Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and 310those that are fools, let them use their talents.

Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; 312or to be turned away--is not that as good as a hanging to 313you?

Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; 315and for turning away, let summer bear it out.

You are resolute, then?

Not so neither, but I am resolved on two points--

That if one break, the other will hold; or if both 319break, your gaskins fall!

Apt in good faith, very apt. Well, go thy way; if 321Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece 322of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Peace, you rogue, no more o'that! 325

1.5.16Here comes my 324lady. Make your excuse wisely, you were best.

[To the audience] Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! 327Those wits that think they have thee, do very oft prove 328fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a 329wise man. For what says Quinapalus? "Better a witty fool, 330than a foolish wit." [To Olivia] God bless thee, lady!

[To the Gentlemen] Take the fool away.

Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.

Go to, y'are a dry fool; I'll no more of you. 334Besides, you grow dishonest.

Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel 336will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool 337not dry. Bid the dishonest man mend himself: if he mend, 338he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher 339mend him. Anything that's mended is but patched; virtue 340that transgresses is but patched with sin, and sin that 341amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple 342syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? 343As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a 344flower. The lady bade take away the fool, therefore I 345say again, take her away.

Sir, I bade them take away you.

Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus 348non facit monachum--that's as much to say, as "I wear not 349motley in my brain." Good madonna, give me leave to 350prove you a fool.

Can you do it?

Dexteriously, good madonna.

Make your proof.

I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good my 355mouse of virtue, answer me.

Well sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your 357proof.

Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?

Good fool, for my brother's death.

I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your 363brother's soul, being in heaven. [To the Gentlemen] Take away the fool, 364gentlemen.

What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Doth he 366not mend?

Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake 368him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the 369better fool.

God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the 371better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that 372I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for twopence 373that you are no fool.

How say you to that, Malvolio?

I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such 376a barren rascal. I saw him put down the other day with 377an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone. 378Look you now, he's out of his guard already. Unless you 379laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest 380I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of 381fools, no better than the fools' zanies.

Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste 383with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, 384and of free disposition, is to take those things for 385bird-bolts that you deem cannon bullets. There is no 386slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; 387nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do 388nothing but reprove.

Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou 390speak'st well of fools.

Madam, there is at the gate a young 393gentleman much desires to speak with you.

From the Count Orsino, is it?

I know not, madam. 'Tis a fair young man, and 396well attended.

Who of my people hold him in delay?

Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

Fetch him off, I pray you, he speaks nothing but 400madman. Fie on him!

1.5.47Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit 401from the count, I am sick, or not at home. What you 402will, to dismiss it.

1.5.48403Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and 404people dislike it.

Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest 406son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with 407brains, for--

1.5.50here he comes-- 408one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.

By mine honor, half drunk. What is he at the 410gate, cousin?

A gentleman.

A gentleman? What gentleman?

'Tis a gentleman here--[belching] a plague o'these pickle 414herring! [To Clown] How now, sot!

Good Sir Toby!

Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by 417this lethargy?

Lechery? I defy lechery! There's one at the 419gate.

Ay, marry, what is he?

Let him be the devil an he will, I care not; give 422me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.

What's a drunken man like, fool?

Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: 425one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second 426mads him, and a third drowns him.

Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit 428o'my coz, for he's in the third degree of drink: he's 429drowned. Go look after him.

He is but mad yet, madonna, and the fool shall 431look to the madman.

Madam, yond young fellow swears he will 434speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on 435him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak 436with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to have 437a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to 438speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? He's 439fortified against any denial.

Tell him he shall not speak with me.

He has been told so; and he says he'll stand at 442your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to 443a bench, but he'll speak with you.

What kind o'man is he?

Why, of mankind.

What manner of man?

Of very ill manner: he'll speak with you, will 448you or no.

Of what personage and years is he?

Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough 451for a boy: as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling 452when 'tis almost an apple. 'Tis with him in standing 453water between boy and man. He is very well-favored, 454and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think his 455mother's milk were scarce out of him.

Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.

[Calling offstage] Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

Give me my veil. Come, throw it o'er my face.

1.5.76460We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

The honorable lady of the house, which is she?

Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your will?

Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable 465beauty--[To Maria or a Gentleman] I pray you tell me if this be the lady of the house, 466for I never saw her. I would be loath to cast away my 467speech; for besides that it is excellently well penned, I have 468taken great pains to con it. [Olivia and others laugh.] Good beauties, let me 469sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least 470sinister usage.

Whence came you, sir?

I can say little more than I have studied, and that 473question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me 474modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I 475may proceed in my speech.

Are you a comedian?

No, my profound heart; and yet--by the very 478fangs of malice I swear--I am not that I play. Are you 479the lady of the house?

If I do not usurp myself, I am.

Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp your482self, for what is yours to bestow is not yours to 483reserve. But this is from my commission. I will on with 484my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of 485my message.

Come to what is important in't, I forgive you 487the praise.

Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis 489poetical.

It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep 491it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your 492approach rather to wonder at you, than to hear you. If 493you be not mad, be gone. If you have reason, be brief. 494'Tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so 495skipping a dialogue.

Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way.

[To Maria] No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little 498longer. [To Olivia] Some mollification for your Giant, sweet lady! 499Tell me your mind, I am a messenger.

Sure you have some hideous matter to deliver, 501when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.

It alone concerns your ear. I bring no 503overture of war, no taxation of homage. I hold the olive 504in my hand. My words are as full of peace as matter.

Yet you began rudely. What are you? 506What would you?

The rudeness that hath appeared in me, have I 508learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I 509would, are as secret as maidenhead: to your ears, 510divinity; to any others', profanation.

Give us the place alone; 512we will hear this divinity.

1.5.96Now sir, what is your text?

Most sweet lady--

A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said 515of it. Where lies your text?

In Orsino's bosom.

In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?

To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.

O, I have read it. It is heresy. Have you no more 520to say?

Good madam, let me see your face.

Have you any commission from your lord to 523negotiate with my face? You are now out of your text. 524But we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture.

1.5.105525Look you, sir, such a one I was this present. Is't not well 526done?

Excellently done, if god did all.

'Tis in grain, sir, 'twill endure wind and 529weather.

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white

1.5.109531Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.

1.5.110532Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive

1.5.111533If you will lead these graces to the grave,

1.5.112534And leave the world no copy.

O sir, I will not be so hardhearted. I will give 536out divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried, 537and every particle and utensil labeled to my will: as, 538item, [Indicating] two lips, indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, 539with lids to them; item, one neck; one chin; and so forth. 540Were you sent hither to praise me?

I see you what you are, you are too proud;

1.5.115542But if you were the devil, you are fair.

1.5.116543My lord and master loves you. O, such love

1.5.117544Could be but recompensed, though you were crowned

1.5.118545The nonpareil of beauty.

The nonpareil of beauty. How does he love me?

With adorations, fertile tears,

1.5.120548With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him.

1.5.122550Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,

1.5.123551Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;

1.5.124552In voices well divulged, free, learn'd, and valiant,

1.5.125553And in dimension, and the shape of nature,

1.5.126554A gracious person. But yet I cannot love him.

1.5.127555He might have took his answer long ago.

If I did love you in my master's flame,

1.5.129557With such a suff'ring, such a deadly life,

1.5.130558In your denial I would find no sense;

1.5.131559I would not understand it.

I would not understand it. Why, what would you?

Make me a willow cabin at your gate,

1.5.133562And call upon my soul within the house;

1.5.134563Write loyal cantos of contemnèd love,

1.5.135564And sing them loud even in the dead of night;

1.5.136565Hallow your name to the reverberate hills,

1.5.137566And make the babbling gossip of the air

1.5.138567Cry out "Olivia!" O you should not rest

1.5.139568Between the elements of air and earth,

1.5.140569But you should pity me.

But you should pity me. You might do much!

1.5.141571What is your parentage?

Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:

1.5.143573I am a gentleman.

I am a gentleman. Get you to your lord.

1.5.144575I cannot love him. Let him send no more,

1.5.145576Unless, perchance, you come to me again,

1.5.146577To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well.

1.5.147578[Offering a purse] I thank you for your pains. Spend this for me.

I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse.

1.5.149580My master, not myself, lacks recompense.

1.5.150581Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love,

1.5.151582And let your fervor, like my master's, be

583Placed in contempt. Farwell, fair cruelty.

"What is your parentage?"

1.5.153585"Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:

1.5.154586I am a gentleman." I'll be sworn thou art!

1.5.155587Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit,

1.5.156588Do give thee five-fold blazon. Not too fast! Soft, soft!

1.5.157589Unless the master were the man. How now!

1.5.158590Even so quickly may one catch the plague?

1.5.159591Methinks I feel this youth's perfections

1.5.160592With an invisible and subtle stealth

1.5.161593To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.

1.5.162594[Calling] What ho, Malvolio!

[Calling] What ho, Malvolio! Here, madam, at your service.

Run after that same peevish messenger,

1.5.164598The county's man. He left this ring behind him,

1.5.165599Would I or not. Tell him I'll none of it.

1.5.166600Desire him not to flatter with his lord,

1.5.167601Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him.

1.5.168602If that the youth will come this way tomorrow,

1.5.169603I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio.

Madam, I will.

[To the audience] I do I know not what, and fear to find

1.5.172606Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.

1.5.173607Fate, show thy force, ourselves we do not owe;

1.5.174608What is decreed must be; and be this so.

Will you stay no longer? Nor will you not that 613I go with you?

By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly 615over me. The malignancy of my fate might perhaps 616distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave 617that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad 618recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.

Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.

No, sooth, sir. My determinate voyage is mere 621extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch 622of modesty that you will not extort from me what I am 623willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners 624the rather to express myself. You must know of me 625then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I called 626Roderigo). My father was that Sebastian of Messaline whom I 627know you have heard of. He left behind him myself 628and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had 629been pleased, would we had so ended! But you, sir, 630altered that, for some hour before you took me from the 631breach of the sea was my sister drowned.

Alas the day!

A lady, sir, though it was said she much 634resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful. But though 635I could not with such estimable wonder overfar 636believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her: she 637bore a mind that envy could not but call fair.[Weeping] She is 638drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to 639drown her remembrance again with more.

Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.

O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

If you will not murder me for my love, let me 643be your servant.

If you will not undo what you have done--that is, 645kill him whom you have recovered--desire it not. Fare 646ye well at once; my bosom is full of kindness, and I 647am yet so near the manners of my mother that upon the 648least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am 649bound to the Count Orsino's court; farewell.

The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!

2.1.12651I have many enemies in Orsino's court,

2.1.13652Else would I very shortly see thee there.

2.1.14653But come what may, I do adore thee so

2.1.15654That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

Were not you even now with the Countess 658Olivia?

Even now, sir; on a moderate pace, I have since 660arrived but hither.

She returns this ring to you, sir. You might 662have saved me my pains to have taken it away your663self. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord 664into a desperate assurance she will none of him. And one 665thing more: that you be never so hardy to come again 666in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking 667of this. [Offering the ring] Receive it so.

She took the ring of me; I'll none of it.

Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and 670her will is, it should be so returned. [Throwing the ring down] If it be worth 671stooping for, there it lies, in your eye; if not, be it his that 672finds it.

[To the audience] [Picking up the ring] I left no ring with her. What means this lady?

2.2.7674Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her!

2.2.8675She made good view of me; indeed so much

2.2.9676That methought her eyes had lost her tongue,

2.2.10677For she did speak in starts distractedly.

2.2.11678She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion

2.2.12679Invites me in this churlish messenger.

2.2.13680None of my lord's ring? Why, he sent her none;

2.2.14681I am the man! If it be so, as 'tis,

2.2.15682Poor lady, she were better love a dream.

2.2.16683Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,

2.2.17684Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.

2.2.18685How easy is it for the proper false

2.2.19686In women's waxen hearts to set their forms.

2.2.20687Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we,

2.2.21688For such as we are made of, such we be.

2.2.22689How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,

2.2.23690And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,

2.2.24691And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.

2.2.25692What will become of this? As I am man,

2.2.26693My state is desperate for my master's love;

2.2.27694As I am woman--now alas the day--

2.2.28695What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?

2.2.29696O time, thou must untangle this, not I,

2.2.30697It is too hard a knot for me t'untie.

Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after 701midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou 702know'st.

Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I know to 704be up late is to be up late.

A false conclusion. I hate it as an unfilled can. 706To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; 707so that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed 708betimes. Does not our life consist of the four 709elements?

Faith, so they say, but I think it rather consists 711of eating and drinking.

Th'art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. 713[Calling] Marian, I say, a stoup of wine!

Here comes the fool, i'faith.

How now, my hearts! Did you never see the 717picture of "We Three"?

Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I 720had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so 721sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast 722in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of 723Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of 724Queubus. 'Twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence 725for thy leman--hadst it?

I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Malvolio's nose 727is no whipstock, my lady has a white hand, and the 728Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when 730all is done. Now a song!

[To Clown, giving money] Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let's have 732a song.

[Giving sixpence] There's a testril of me too. If one knight give a--

Would you have a love song, or a song of good 735life?

A love song, a love song.

Ay, ay. I care not for good life.

Excellent good, i'faith.

Good, good.

A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

A contagious breath.

Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.

To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. 757But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we 758rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three 759souls out of one weaver? Shall we do that?

An you love me, let's do't! I am dog at a 761catch.

By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

Most certain. Let our catch be "Thou Knave."

"Hold thy peace, thou knave," knight? I shall be 765constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to 767call me knave. Begin, fool. It begins, [Singing] "Hold thy peace."

I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

Good, i'faith! Come, begin.

What a caterwauling do you keep here! If 772my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio, and 773bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

My lady's a Cathayan, we are politicians, Malvolio's 775a Peg-a-Ramsay, and [Singing] "Three merry men be we"! Am not I 776consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally, 777lady! [Singing] "There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady"!

Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so 780do I too. He does it with a better grace, but I do it more 781natural.

[Singing] "O'the twelfth day of December--"

For the love o'god, peace!

My masters, are you mad! Or what are you? 786Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble 787like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an 788alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your 789coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? 790Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady 793bade me tell you that, though she harbors you as her 794kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can 795separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are 796welcome to the house. If not, an it would please you to take 797leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.

[Singing] [To Maria] "Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone."

Nay, good Sir Toby.

[Singing] [Indicating Sir Toby] "His eyes do show his days are almost done."

Is't even so?

[Singing] "But I will never die."

[Singing] Sir Toby, there you lie.

This is much credit to you.

[Singing] [Indicating Malvolio] "Shall I bid him go?"

[Singing] "What an if you do?"

"Shall I bid him go, and spare not?"

"O no, no, no, no, you dare not!"

[To Malvolio] Out o'tune, sir? Ye lie! Art any more than a 810steward? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there 811shall be no more cakes and ale?

Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i'th'813mouth too.

Th'art i'th'right. [To Malvolio] Go, sir, rub your chain with 815crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favor 817at anything more than contempt, you would not give 818means for this uncivil rule. She shall know of it, by this 819hand.

Go shake your ears!

'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's 822a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break 823promise with him, and make a fool of him.

Do't, knight. I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll 825deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight. Since 827the youth of the count's was today with my lady, she is 828much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone 829with him. If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make 830him a common recreation, do not think I have wit 831enough to lie straight in my bed. I know I can do it.

Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.

Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.

Oh, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog!

What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite reason, 836dear knight?

I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason 838good enough.

The devil a puritan that he is, or anything 840constantly but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass, that 841cons state without book, and utters it by great swaths. 842The best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, 843with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all 844that look on him love him; and on that vice in him will 845my revenge find notable cause to work.

What wilt thou do?

I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of 848love, wherein by the color of his beard, the shape of his 849leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, 850forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most 851feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady 852your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make 853distinction of our hands.

Excellent, I smell a device.

I have't in my nose too.

He shall think by the letters that thou wilt drop 857that they come from my niece, and that she's in love 858with him.

My purpose is indeed a horse of that color.

And your horse now would make him an ass.

Ass, I doubt not.

Oh, 'twill be admirable!

Sport royal, I warrant you. I know my 864physic will work with him. I will plant you two, and let 865the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter. 866Observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and 867dream on the event. Farewell.

Good night, Penthesilea!

Before me, she's a good wench.

She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me. 871What o'that?

I was adored once, too.

Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for 874more money.

If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way 876out.

Send for money, knight. If thou hast her not i'th'878end, call me cut.

If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late 881to go to bed now. Come, knight, come, knight.

[To the Musicians] Give me some music. [To the Courtiers] Now good morrow, friends;

2.4.2885Now, good Cesario--but that piece of song,

2.4.3886That old and antique song we heard last night;

2.4.4887Methought it did relieve my passion much,

2.4.5888More than light airs and recollected terms

2.4.6889Of these most brisk and giddy-pacèd times.

2.4.7890Come, but one verse.

He is not here, so please your lordship, that

2.4.9892should sing it.

Who was it?

Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the Lady 895Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the 896house.

Seek him out, [To the Musicians] and play the tune the while.

2.4.13899Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,

2.4.14900In the sweet pangs of it, remember me.

2.4.15901For such as I am, all true lovers are:

2.4.16902Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,

2.4.17903Save in the constant image of the creature

2.4.18904That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?

It gives a very echo to the seat

2.4.20906Where love is throned.

Where love is throned. Thou dost speak masterly;

2.4.21908My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye

2.4.22909Hath stayed upon some favor that it loves.

2.4.23910Hath it not, boy?

Hath it not, boy? A little, by your favor.

What kind of woman is't?

What kind of woman is't? Of your complexion.

She is not worth thee then. What years, i'faith?

About your years, my lord.

Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take

2.4.28917An elder than her self; so wears she to him,

2.4.29918So sways she level in her husband's heart.

2.4.30919For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,

2.4.31920Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,

2.4.32921More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,

2.4.33922Than women's are.

Than women's are. I think it well, my lord.

Then let thy love be younger than thyself,

2.4.35925Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;

2.4.36926For women are as roses, whose fair flower

2.4.37927Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

And so they are. Alas, that they are so:

2.4.39929To die, even when they to perfection grow.

Oh, fellow, come, the song we had last night.

2.4.41932Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;

2.4.42933The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,

2.4.43934And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,

2.4.44935Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,

2.4.45936And dallies with the innocence of love,

2.4.46937Like the old age.

Are you ready, sir?

Ay, prithee sing. Music.

[Giving money] There's for thy pains.

No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.

I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or 957another.

Give me now leave to leave thee.

Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the 960tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy 961mind is a very opal. I would have men of such 962constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, 963and their intent everywhere; for that's it that always 964makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.

Let all the rest give place.

Let all the rest give place. Once more, Cesario,

2.4.72966Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.

2.4.73967Tell her my love, more noble than the world,

2.4.74968Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;

2.4.75969The parts that Fortune hath bestowed upon her,

2.4.76970Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune;

2.4.77971But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems

2.4.78972That Nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.

But if she cannot love you, sir?

I cannot be so answered.

I cannot be so answered. Sooth, but you must.

2.4.81976Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,

2.4.82977Hath for your love as great a pang of heart

2.4.83978As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her.

2.4.84979You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?

There is no woman's sides

2.4.86981Can bide the beating of so strong a passion

2.4.87982As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart

2.4.88983So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.

2.4.89984Alas, their love may be called appetite,

2.4.90985No motion of the liver, but the palate,

2.4.91986That suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;

2.4.92987But mine is all as hungry as the sea,

2.4.93988And can digest as much. Make no compare

2.4.94989Between that love a woman can bear me,

2.4.95990And that I owe Olivia.

And that I owe Olivia. Ay, but I know--

What dost thou know?

Too well what love women to men may owe.

2.4.98994In faith, they are as true of heart as we.

2.4.99995My father had a daughter loved a man

2.4.100996As it might be perhaps, were I a woman,

2.4.101997I should your lordship.

I should your lordship. And what's her history?

A blank, my lord. She never told her love,

2.4.1031000But let concealment like a worm i'th'bud

2.4.1041001Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,

2.4.1051002And with a green and yellow melancholy

2.4.1061003She sat like Patience on a monument,

2.4.1071004Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?

2.4.1081005We men may say more, swear more, but indeed

2.4.1091006Our shows are more than will: for still we prove

2.4.1101007Much in our vows, but little in our love.

But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

I am all the daughters of my father's house,

2.4.1131010And all the brothers too; and yet I know not--

2.4.1141011Sir, shall I to this lady?

Sir, shall I to this lady? Ay, that's the theme.

2.4.1151013To her in haste; [Giving a jewel] give her this jewel; say

2.4.1161014My love can give no place, bide no denay.

Come thy ways, Signor Fabian.

Nay, I'll come! If I lose a scruple of this sport, 1019let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

Wouldst thou not be glad to have the 1021niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

I would exult, man! You know he brought me out 1023o'favor with my lady, about a bear-baiting here.

To anger him we'll have the bear again, and 1025we will fool him black and blue--shall we not, Sir 1026Andrew?

An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Here comes the little villain! How now, my 1030metal of India?

Get ye all three into the box-tree. Malvolio's 1032coming down this walk; he has been yonder i'the 1033sun practicing behavior to his own shadow this half 1034hour. Observe him, for the love of mockery, for I know 1035this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, 1036in the name of jesting! [The men hide.] Lie thou there; [Placing the letter on the stage] for here comes 1037the trout that must be caught with tickling.

[To the audience] 'Tis but fortune, all is fortune. Maria once 1040told me she did affect me, and I have heard herself come 1041thus near, that should she fancy, it should be one of 1042my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more 1043exalted respect than anyone else that follows her. What 1044should I think on't? [He struts about the stage.]

[Aside to Sir Toby and Fabian] [and the audience.] Here's an overweening rogue!

[Aside] Oh, peace! Contemplation makes a rare 1047turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advanced plumes!

[Aside] 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!

[Aside] Peace, I say!

To be Count Malvolio!

[Aside] Ah, rogue!

[Aside] Pistol him, pistol him!

[Aside] Peace, peace!

There is example for't: the Lady of the 1055Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

[Aside] Fie on him, Jezebel!

[Aside] Oh, peace, now he's deeply in. Look how 1058imagination blows him.

Having been three months married to her, 1060sitting in my state--

[Aside] Oh, for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye!

--calling my officers about me, in my branched 1063velvet gown, having come from a day-bed, where I 1064have left Olivia sleeping--

[Aside] Fire and brimstone!

[Aside] Oh, peace, peace!

--and then to have the humor of state, and after 1068a demure travel of regard--telling them I know my 1069place, as I would they should do theirs--to ask for my 1070kinsman Toby.

[Aside] Bolts and shackles!

[Aside] Oh, peace, peace, peace![Malvolio walks near the letter.] Now, now!

Seven of my people, with an obedient start, 1074make out for him. I frown the while, and perchance 1075wind up my watch, or play with my--[Realizing he is playing with his steward's chain] some rich jewel. 1076Toby approaches; curtsies there to me--

[Aside] Shall this fellow live!

[Aside] Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, 1079yet peace!

--I extend my hand to him, thus; quenching my 1081familiar smile with an austere regard of control--

[Aside] And does not Toby take you a blow o'the lips 1083then?

--saying, "Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast 1085me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech--"

[Aside] What, what!

"--you must amend your drunkenness."

[Aside] Out, scab!

[Aside] Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our 1090plot!

"Besides, you waste the treasure of your time 1092with a foolish knight--"

[Aside] That's me, I warrant you.

"--one Sir Andrew."

[Aside] I knew 'twas I, for many do call me fool.

[Seeing and then taking up the letter] What employment have we here?

[Aside] Now is the woodcock near the gin.

[Aside] Oh, peace, and the spirit of humors intimate 1099reading aloud to him.

[To the audience, as he examines the outside of the letter] By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her 1101very C's, her U's, and her T's, and thus makes she her 1102great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

[Aside] Her C's, her U's, and her T's--why that?

1105Her very phrases! [Starting to break the seal] By your leave, wax. [Pausing] Soft! And the 1106impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal. 'Tis my 1107lady! To whom should this be?

[Aside] This wins him, liver and all.

2.5.54"No man must know." What follows? 1111The numbers altered. "No man must know." 1112If this should be thee, Malvolio!

[Aside] Marry, hang thee, brock!

[Aside] A fustian riddle.

[Aside] Excellent wench, say I.

"M.O.A.I. doth sway my life." Nay, but first 1121let me see, let me see, let me see.

[Aside] What dish o'poison has she dressed him!

[Aside] And with what wing the staniel checks at it!

"I may command, where I adore." Why, she may 1125command me: I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is 1126evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstruction 1127in this. And the end--what should that alphabetical 1128position portend? If I could make that resemble something 1129in me! Softly. "M.O.A.I."

[Aside] Oh, ay, make up that! He is now at a cold scent.

[Aside] Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be 1132as rank as a fox.

"M." Malvolio! "M," why that begins my name!

[Aside] Did not I say he would work it out? The cur 1135is excellent at faults.

"M." But then there is no consonancy in the sequel. 1137That suffers under probation: "A" should follow, but "O" 1138does.

[Aside] And "O" shall end, I hope.

[Aside] Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry "O"!

And then "I" comes behind.

[Aside] Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might 1143see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before 1144you.

"M.O.A.I." This simulation is not as the former; 1146and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for 1147every one of these letters are in my name. Soft, here 1148follows prose.

2.5.79Daylight and 1164champaign discovers not more! This is open. I will be 1165proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir 1166Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be 1167point-device the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let 1168imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, 1169that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow 1170stockings of late, she did praise my leg being 1171cross-gartered, and in this she manifests herself to my love, and 1172with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of 1173her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be 1174strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, 1175even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my 1176stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript. [Reading]

2.5.81Jove, 1180I thank thee. I will smile, I will do everything that thou 1181wilt have me.

I will not give my part of this sport for a 1183pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

I could marry this wench for this device--

So could I too.

--and ask no other dowry with her, but such 1187another jest.

Nor I neither.

Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

[Abasing himself on the stage] Wilt thou set thy foot o'my neck?

[Following suit as Sir Toby rises] Or o'mine either?

Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become 1194thy bondslave?

I'faith, or I either?

Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that 1197when the image of it leaves him he must run mad.

Nay, but say true, does it work upon him?

Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark 1201his first approach before my lady. He will come to her 1202in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she abhors, and 1203cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile 1204upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her 1205disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it 1206cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will 1207see it, follow me.

To the gates of Tartarus, thou most excellent devil 1209of wit!

I'll make one too.

Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live 1215by thy tabor?

No, sir, I live by the church.

Art thou a churchman?

No such matter, sir. I do live by the church, for 1219I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the 1220church.

So thou mayst say the king lies by a beggar, if a 1222beggar dwell near him; or the church stands by thy 1223tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.

You have said, sir. [To the audience as well as Viola] To see this age! A sentence is 1225but a cheverel glove to a good wit: how quickly the 1226wrong side may be turned outward!

Nay, that's certain: they that dally nicely with 1228words may quickly make them wanton.

I would therefore my sister had had no name, sir.

Why, man?

Why, sir, her name's a word, and to dally with 1232that word might make my sister wanton. But indeed, 1233words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.

Thy reason, man?

Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, 1236and words are grown so false I am loath to prove 1237reason with them.

I warrant thou art a merry fellow and car'st for 1239nothing.

Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my 1241conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for 1242nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?

No indeed, sir! The Lady Olivia has no folly. She 1245will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are 1246as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings: the 1247husband's the bigger. I am indeed not her fool, but her 1248corrupter of words.

I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the 1251sun, it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the 1252fool should be as oft with your master as with my 1253mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.

Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with 1255thee. Hold, [Giving him a coin] there's expenses for thee.

Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send 1257thee a beard.

By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for 1259one, [To the audience] though I would not have it grow on my chin. [To the Clown.] Is 1260thy lady within?

[Indicating the coin] Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?

Yes, being kept together, and put to use.

I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring 1264a Cressida to [Displaying the coin] this Troilus.

I understand you, sir, 'tis well begged. [Gives another coin.]

The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a 1267beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I 1268will conster to them whence you come; who you are, and 1269what you would, are out of my welkin--I might say 1270element, but the word is overworn.

[To the audience] This fellow is wise enough to play the fool,

3.1.281272And to do that well craves a kind of wit.

3.1.291273He must observe their mood on whom he jests,

3.1.301274The quality of persons, and the time;

3.1.311275And like the haggard, check at every feather

3.1.321276That comes before his eye. This is a practice

3.1.331277As full of labor as a wise man's art:

3.1.341278For folly that he wisely shows, is fit;

3.1.351279But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

Save you, gentleman.

And you, sir.

Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.

I hope, sir, you are, and I am yours.

Will you encounter the house? My niece is 1287desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the 1289list of my voyage.

Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.

My legs do better understand me, sir, than I 1292understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

I mean to go, sir, to enter.

I will answer you with gait and entrance--

3.1.47But we 1295are prevented. 1297[To Olivia] Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain 1298odors on you.

[To the audience] That youth's a rare courtier: "rain odors"--well.

My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own 1301most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

[Writing] "Odors," "pregnant," and "vouchsafed": I'll get 'em 1303all three all ready.

Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to 1305my hearing.

3.1.52Give me your hand, sir.

My duty, madam, and most humble service.

What is your name?

Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

My servant, sir? 'Twas never merry world

3.1.571310Since lowly feigning was called compliment.

3.1.581311Y'are servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:

3.1.601313Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

For him, I think not on him; for his thoughts,

3.1.621315Would they were blanks, rather than filled with me.

Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts

3.1.641317On his behalf.

On his behalf. Oh, by your leave, I pray you!

3.1.651319I bade you never speak again of him;

3.1.661320But would you undertake another suit,

3.1.671321I had rather hear you to solicit that

3.1.681322Than music from the spheres.

Dear lady--

Dear lady-- Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,

3.1.701325After the last enchantment you did here,

3.1.711326A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse

3.1.721327Myself, my servant, and I fear me, you.

3.1.731328Under your hard construction must I sit,

3.1.741329To force that on you in a shameful cunning

3.1.751330Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?

3.1.761331Have you not set mine honor at the stake,

3.1.771332And baited it with all th'unmuzzled thoughts

3.1.781333That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving

3.1.791334Enough is shown; a cypress, not a bosom,

3.1.801335Hides my heart. So, let me hear you speak.

I pity you.

I pity you. That's a degree to love.

No, not a grece: for 'tis a vulgar proof

3.1.831339That very oft we pity enemies.

Why then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.

3.1.851341O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

3.1.861342If one should be a prey, how much the better

3.1.871343To fall before the lion than the wolf!

3.1.881345The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.

3.1.891346Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you;

3.1.901347And yet when wit and youth is come to harvest,

3.1.911348Your wife is like to reap a proper man.

3.1.921349There lies your way, due west.

There lies your way, due west. Then westward ho!

3.1.931351Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship.

3.1.941352You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

Stay!

3.1.96I prithee tell me what thou think'st of me?

That you do think you are not what you are.

If I think so, I think the same of you.

Then think you right: [Including the audience] I am not what I am.

I would you were as I would have you be.

Would it be better, madam, than I am?

3.1.1021359I wish it might, for now I am your fool!

[To the audience] Oh, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful

3.1.1041361In the contempt and anger of his lip!

3.1.1051362A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon,

3.1.1061363Than love that would seem hid. Love's night is noon.

3.1.1071364[To Viola] Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

3.1.1081365By maidhood, honor, truth, and everything,

3.1.1091366I love thee so, that maugre all thy pride,

3.1.1101367Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.

3.1.1111368Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,

3.1.1121369For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;

3.1.1131370But rather reason thus with reason fetter:

3.1.1141371Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better.

By innocence I swear, and by my youth,

3.1.1161373I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,

3.1.1171374And that no woman has; nor never none

3.1.1181375Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.

3.1.1191376And so adieu, good madam; never more

3.1.1201377Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

Yet come again--for thou perhaps mayst move

3.1.1221379That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer!

Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

You must needs yield your reason, Sir 1385Andrew!

Marry, I saw your niece do more favors to the 1387count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me. 1388I saw't i'th'orchard.

Did she see thee the while, old boy, tell me that?

As plain as I see you now.

This was a great argument of love in her toward 1392you.

'Slight, will you make an ass o'me?

I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of 1395judgment and reason.

And they have been grand-jurymen since before 1397Noah was a sailor.

She did show favor to the youth in your sight 1399only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valor, 1400to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver. 1401You should then have accosted her, and with some 1402excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged 1403the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your 1404hand, and this was balked. The double gilt of this 1405opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into 1406the north of my lady's opinion, where you will hang 1407like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do 1408redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valor or 1409policy.

An't be any way, it must be with valor, for 1411policy I hate.[To the audience] I had as lief be a Brownist, as a 1412politician.

Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of 1414valor. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him, 1415hurt him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it; 1416and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world 1417can more prevail in man's commendation with women 1418than report of valor.

There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.

Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Go, write it in a martial hand. Be cursed and brief. 1422It is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of 1423invention. Taunt him with the license of ink. If thou 1424"thou'st" him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as 1425many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the 1426sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in 1427England, set 'em down. Go, about it! Let there be gall 1428enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, 1429no matter. About it!

Where shall I find you?

We'll call thee at thy cubiculo. Go!

This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand 1435strong, or so.

We shall have a rare letter from him--but you'll 1437not deliver't?

Never trust me then; and by all means stir on 1439the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes 1440cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened 1441and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the 1442foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of th'anatomy.

And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no 1444great presage of cruelty.

Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.

If you desire the spleen, and will laugh your 1448selves into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is 1449turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian 1450that means to be saved by believing rightly can ever 1451believe such impossible passages of grossness. He's in 1452yellow stockings!

And cross-gartered?

Most villainously, like a pedant that keeps a 1455school i'th'church. I have dogged him like his 1456murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped 1457to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines 1458than is in the new map with the augmentation of the 1459Indies; you have not seen such a thing as 'tis. I can 1460hardly forbear hurling things at him; I know my lady will 1461strike him. If she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great 1462favor.

Come, bring us, bring us where he is!

I would not by my will have troubled you,

3.3.21468But since you make your pleasure of your pains,

3.3.31469I will no further chide you.

I could not stay behind you. My desire,

3.3.51471More sharp than filèd steel, did spur me forth;

3.3.61472And not all love to see you--though so much

3.3.71473As might have drawn one to a longer voyage--

3.3.81474But jealousy what might befall your travel,

3.3.91475Being skilless in these parts, which to a stranger,

3.3.101476Unguided and unfriended, often prove

3.3.111477Rough and unhospitable. My willing love,

3.3.121478The rather by these arguments of fear,

3.3.131479Set forth in your pursuit.

Set forth in your pursuit. My kind Antonio,

3.3.141481I can no other answer make but thanks,

3.3.151482And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns

3.3.161483Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay.

3.3.171484But were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,

3.3.181485You should find better dealing. What's to do?

3.3.191486Shall we go see the relics of this town?

Tomorrow, sir; best first go see your lodging.

I am not weary, and 'tis long to night.

3.3.221489I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes

3.3.231490With the memorials and the things of fame

1491That do renown this city.

That do renown this city. Would you'd pardon me.

3.3.241493I do not without danger walk these streets.

3.3.251494Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the count his galleys

3.3.261495I did some service, of such note indeed

3.3.271496That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answered.

Belike you slew great number of his people.

Th'offence is not of such a bloody nature,

3.3.301499Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel

3.3.311500Might well have given us bloody argument.

3.3.321501It might have since been answered in repaying

3.3.331502What we took from them, which for traffic's sake

3.3.341503Most of our city did. Only myself stood out,

3.3.351504For which, if I be lapsèd in this place,

3.3.361505I shall pay dear.

I shall pay dear. Do not then walk too open.

It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse.

3.3.381508In the south suburbs at the Elephant

3.3.391509Is best to lodge; I will bespeak our diet,

3.3.401510Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge

3.3.411511With viewing of the town. There shall you have me.

Why I your purse?

Haply your eye shall light upon some toy

3.3.441514You have desire to purchase; and your store,

3.3.451515I think, is not for idle markets, sir.

I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for

3.3.471517An hour.

An hour. To th'Elephant.

An hour. To th'Elephant. I do remember.

[To the audience] I have sent after him; he says he'll come.

3.4.21523How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?

3.4.31524For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed.

3.4.41525I speak too loud--

3.4.5[To Maria] Where's Malvolio? He is sad and civil,

3.4.61526And suits well for a servant with my fortunes.

3.4.71527Where is Malvolio?

He's coming, madam, 1529but in very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam.

Why, what's the matter? Does he rave?

No, madam, he does nothing but smile. Your 1532ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he 1533come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits.

Go call him hither.

Go call him hither. 1536[To the audience] I am as mad as he,

3.4.121537If sad and merry madness equal be.

1538How now, Malvolio!

Sweet lady, ho, ho!

Smil'st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

Sad, lady? I could be sad. 1542This does make some obstruction in the blood, 1543this cross-gartering; but what of that? 1544If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true 1545sonnet is, [Singing] "Please one, and please all."

Why, how dost thou, man? 1547What is the matter with thee?

Not black in my mind, though yellow in my 1549legs. [Holding up letter] It did come to his hands, and commands shall 1550be executed. I think we do know the sweet roman 1551hand.

Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

To bed! [Singing] "Ay, sweetheart, and I'll come to thee."

God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and 1555kiss thy hand so oft?

How do you, Malvolio?

[To Maria, scornfully] At your request? 1558Yes, nightingales answer daws!

Why appear you with this ridiculous 1560boldness before my lady?

[To Olivia] "Be not afraid of greatness": 'twas well writ.

What mean'st thou by that, Malvolio?

"Some are born great--"

Ha?

"--some achieve greatness--"

What say'st thou?

"--and some have greatness thrust upon them."

Heaven restore thee!

"Remember who commended thy yellow 1570stockings--"

Thy yellow stockings?

"--and wished to see thee cross-gartered."

Cross-gartered?

"Go to, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so--"

Am I made?

"--if not, let me see thee a servant still."

[To the audience] Why, this is very midsummer madness.

Madam, the young gentleman of the Count 1580Orsino's is returned; I could hardly entreat him back. He 1581attends your ladyship's pleasure.

I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] 1583Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my 1584cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care 1585of him; I would not have him miscarry for the half of 1586my dowry.

Oh ho, do you come near me now? [To the audience] No worse 1588man than Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs 1589directly with the letter. She sends him on purpose, that I may 1590appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in 1591the letter. "Cast thy humble slough," says she, "be 1592opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants, let thy tongue 1593tang with arguments of state, put thyself into the 1594trick of singularity"; and consequently sets down the 1595manner how: as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow 1596tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. 1597I have limed her, but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me 1598thankful. And when she went away now, "Let this 1599fellow be looked to." "Fellow!" Not Malvolio, nor after my 1600degree, but "fellow." Why, everything adheres together, 1601that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no 1602obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance--what 1603can be said? Nothing that can be can come between 1604me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Jove, not I, 1605is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

[Pretending not to see Malvolio] Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all 1608the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself 1609possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.

Here he is, here he is. [To Malvolio] How is't with you, sir? 1611How is't with you, man?

Go off, I discard you. Let me enjoy my private. 1613Go off!

[To Sir Toby and Fabian, aloud, to be overheard] Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! 1615Did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have 1616a care of him.

[Aside]Ah ha! Does she so?

[To them, aloud] Go to, go to. Peace, peace, we must deal 1619gently with him. Let me alone. [Approaching Malvolio] How do you, Malvolio? 1620How is't with you? What, man, defy the devil; consider, 1621he's an enemy to mankind.

Do you know what you say?

[To them, aloud] La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how 1624he takes it at heart! Pray God he be not bewitched!

[To them, aloud] Carry his water to th'wise woman.

[To them, aloud] Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning 1627if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll 1628say.

How now, mistress?

[To them, aloud] Oh Lord!

[To them, aloud] Prithee hold thy peace, this is not the way. Do 1632you not see you move him? Let me alone with him.

[To them, aloud] No way but gentleness; gently, gently. The fiend 1634is rough, and will not be roughly used.

[Approaching Malvolio]Why, how now, my bawcock? How dost thou, chuck?

Sir!

Ay, biddy, come with me. What, man, 'tis not for 1638gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang him, foul 1639collier!

[To them, aloud] Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get 1641him to pray.

My prayers, minx!

[To them, aloud] No, I warrant you, he will not hear of 1644godliness.

Go hang yourselves all! You are idle, shallow 1646things; I am not of your element. You shall know more 1647hereafter.

[Laughing] Is't possible?

[Including the audience] If this were played upon a stage now, I could 1650condemn it as an improbable fiction!

His very genius hath taken the infection of the 1652device, man.

Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air, 1654and taint.

Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

The house will be the quieter.

Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. 1658My niece is already in the belief that he's mad. We may 1659carry it thus for our pleasure, and his penance, till our 1660very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy 1661on him; at which time we will bring the device to the bar 1662and crown thee for a finder of madmen.

3.4.71But see, but see!

More matter for a May morning!

Here's the challenge, read it. I warrant there's 1666vinegar and pepper in't.

[Taking the challenge] Is't so saucy?

Ay, is't, I warrant him! Do but read.

Give me. [Taking the challenge and reading] 1670

[To Sir Andrew] Good, and valiant.

[To Sir Andrew] A good note: that keeps you from the blow of the law.

Very brief, and to exceeding good sense--[Aside] less.

Good.

[To Sir Andrew] Still you keep o'th'windy side of the law. Good.

If this letter move him not, his legs cannot. 1689I'll giv't him.

You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now 1691in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by 1692depart.

Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner 1694of the orchard like a bum-baily. So soon as ever thou 1695see'st him, draw. And as thou draw'st, swear horrible; for 1696it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath with a 1697swaggering accent, sharply twanged off, gives manhood more 1698approbation than ever proof itself would have earned 1699him. Away!

Nay, let me alone for swearing.

Now will not I deliver his letter; for the 1702behavior of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good 1703capacity and breeding. His employment between his 1704lord and my niece confirms no less. Therefore this 1705letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror 1706in the youth; he will find it comes from a clodpoll. 1707But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, 1708set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valor, and drive 1709the gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receive it) 1710into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and 1711impetuosity. This will so fright them both that they will 1712kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.

Here he comes with your niece; give them way 1715till he take leave, and presently after him.

I will meditate the while upon some horrid message 1717for a challenge.

I have said too much unto a heart of stone,

3.4.961719And laid mine honor too unchary on't;

3.4.971720There's something in me that reproves my fault,

3.4.981721But such a headstrong potent fault it is,

3.4.991722That it but mocks reproof.

With the same havior that your passion bears

3.4.1011724Goes on my master's griefs.

Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture--

3.4.1031726Refuse it not, [Giving the jewel] it hath no tongue to vex you--

3.4.1041727And I beseech you come again tomorrow.

3.4.1051728What shall you ask of me that I'll deny,

3.4.1061729That, honor saved, may upon asking give?

Nothing but this: your true love for my master.

How with mine honor may I give him that

3.4.1091732Which I have giv'n to you?

Which I have giv'n to you? I will acquit you.

Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well,

3.4.1111735A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.

Gentleman, god save thee.

And you, sir.

That defense thou hast, betake thee to't. Of what 1740nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; 1741but thy interceptor, full of despite, bloody as the 1742hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end. Dismount thy tuck, 1743be yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, 1744skilful, and deadly.

You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any 1746quarrel to me. My remembrance is very free and clear from 1747any image of offence done to any man.

You'll find it otherwise, I assure you. Therefore, if 1749you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard; 1750for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, 1751and wrath can furnish man withal.

I pray you, sir, what is he?

He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier and 1754on carpet consideration, but he is a devil in private brawl. 1755Souls and bodies hath he divorced three, and his 1756incensement at this moment is so implacable that satisfaction 1757can be none but by pangs of death and sepulcher. "Hob, 1758nob" is his word: giv't or take't.

I will return again into the house, and desire 1760some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard 1761of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on 1762others to taste their valor; belike this is a man of that 1763quirk.

Sir, no. His indignation derives itself out of a 1765very competent injury; therefore get you on, and give him 1766his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you 1767undertake that with me which with as much safety you 1768might answer him. Therefore on, or strip your sword 1769stark naked; for meddle you must, that's certain, or 1770forswear to wear iron about you.

[To the audience] This is as uncivil as strange. [To Sir Toby] I beseech you, do 1772me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what 1773my offence to him is. It is something of my negligence, 1774nothing of my purpose.

I will do so. [To Fabian] Signor Fabian, stay you by this 1776gentleman till my return.

Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?

I know the knight is incensed against you, even to 1779a mortal arbitrament, but nothing of the circumstance 1780more.

I beseech you, what manner of man is he?

Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him 1783by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of 1784his valor. He is indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and 1785fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any 1786part of Illyria. Will you walk towards him? [Viola hesitates.] I will make 1787your peace with him, if I can.

I shall be much bound to you for't. I am one 1789that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight; I care 1790not who knows so much of my mettle.

Why, man, he's a very devil, I have not seen such 1793a virago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, 1794and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal motion 1795that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as 1796surely as your feet hits the ground they step on. They 1797say he has been fencer to the Sophy.

Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him!

Ay, but he will not now be pacified; [Pointing towards Viola and Fabian] 1800Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.

Plague on't, an I thought he had been valiant, 1802and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damned ere 1803I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and 1804I'll give him my horse, gray Capilet.

I'll make the motion. Stand here, make a good 1806show on't; this shall end without the perdition of souls. 1807[Aside] Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

3.4.1331809[To Fabian] I have his horse to take up the quarrel. I have persuaded 1810him the youth's a devil.

[Indicating Viola] He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and 1812looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.

[To Viola] There's no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for's 1814oath sake. Marry, he hath better bethought him of his 1815quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth 1816talking of. Therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow; 1817he protests he will not hurt you.

[To the audience] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make 1819me tell them how much I lack of a man.

[To Viola] Give ground if you see him furious.

Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy, the 1822gentleman will for his honor's sake have one bout with you. 1823He cannot by the duello avoid it. But he has promised 1824me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt 1825you. [To them both] Come on, to't.

Pray God he keep his oath!

[To Sir Andrew] I do assure you, 'tis against my will.

[To Sir Andrew, drawing] Put up your sword! If this young gentleman

3.4.1421830Have done offence, I take the fault on me;

3.4.1431831If you offend him, I for him defy you.

You, sir? Why, what are you?

One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more

3.4.1461834Than you have heard him brag to you he will.

[Drawing ] Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

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

[To Antonio] I'll be with you anon.

[To Sir Andrew] Pray sir, put your sword up, if you please.

Marry, will I, sir; [Sheathing his sword] and for that I promised you, I'll 1841be as good as my word. He will bear you easily, and 1842reins well.

[To Second Officer] This is the man; do thy office.

Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit

3.4.155Of Count Orsino.

Of Count Orsino. You do mistake me, sir.

No, sir, no jot. I know your favor well,

3.4.1581847Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.

3.4.1591848Take him away; he knows I know him well.

I must obey. [To Viola] This comes with seeking you;

3.4.1611850But there's no remedy, I shall answer it.

3.4.1621851What will you do, now my necessity

3.4.1631852Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me

3.4.1641853Much more for what I cannot do for you

3.4.1651854Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed,

3.4.1661855But be of comfort.

Come, sir, away.

I must entreat of you some of that money.

What money, sir?

3.4.1701859For the fair kindness you have showed me here,

3.4.1711860And part being prompted by your present trouble,

3.4.1721861Out of my lean and low ability

3.4.1731862I'll lend you something. My having is not much;

3.4.1741863I'll make division of my present with you.

3.4.1751864Hold, [Offering a few coins] there's half my coffer.

[Rejecting them] Will you deny me now?

3.4.1771866Is't possible that my deserts to you

3.4.1781867Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,

3.4.1791868Lest that it make me so unsound a man

3.4.1801869As to upbraid you with those kindnesses

3.4.1821870That I have done for you.

That I have done for you. I know of none,

3.4.1841872Nor know I you by voice or any feature.

3.4.1851873I hate ingratitude more in a man

3.4.1861874Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness,

3.4.1871875Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption

3.4.1891876Inhabits our frail blood.

Inhabits our frail blood. O heavens themselves!

Come, sir, I pray you go.

Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here

3.4.1931880I snatched one half out of the jaws of death,

3.4.1941881Relieved him with such sanctity of love,

3.4.1951882And to his image, which methought did promise

3.4.1961883Most venerable worth, did I devotion.

What's that to us? The time goes by. Away!

But O, how vile an idol proves this god!

3.4.1991886[To Viola] Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.

3.4.2001887In nature, there's no blemish but the mind;

3.4.2011888None can be called deformed but the unkind.

3.4.2021889Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil

3.4.2031890Are empty trunks, o'er-flourished by the devil!

The man grows mad; away with him. [To Antonio] 1892Come, come, sir!

Lead me on.

[To the audience] Methinks his words do from such passion fly

3.4.2071895That he believes himself; so do not I.

3.4.2081896Prove true, imagination, O prove true,

3.4.2091897That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

Come hither, knight, come hither, Fabian. We'll 1899whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.

[To the audience] He named Sebastian! I my brother know

3.4.2121901Yet living in my glass. Even such and so

3.4.2131902In favor was my brother, and he went

3.4.2141903Still in this fashion, color, ornament,

3.4.2151904For him I imitate. O, if it prove,

3.4.2161905Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love.

A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward 1907than a hare. His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend 1908here in necessity, and denying him; and for his 1909cowardship, ask Fabian.

A coward, a most devout coward, religious in 1911it.

'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him.

Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

An I do not--

Come, let's see the event.

I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.

Will you make me believe that I am not sent for 1920you?

Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow,

4.1.31922Let me be clear of thee.

Well held out i'faith! No, I do not know you, 1924nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come 1925speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; 1926nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so, is so.

I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else,

4.1.6Thou 1928know'st not me.

Vent my folly! [To the audience] He has heard that word of some 1930great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my 1931folly! I am afraid this great lubber the world will prove a 1932cockney. [To Sebastian] I prithee now, ungird thy strangeness, and tell 1933me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall I vent to her that 1934thou art coming?

I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me. [Giving a coin]

4.1.9There's 1936money for thee; If you tarry longer,

4.1.10[Threatening a blow] I shall give worse 1937payment.

By my troth, thou hast an open hand. [To the audience] These 1939wise men that give fools money get themselves a good 1940report--after fourteen years' purchase!

Now, sir, have I met you again? There's for you!

Why, there's for thee, and there, and there!

4.1.141944[To the audience] Are all the people mad?

[Seizing Sebastian] Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

[To the audience] This will I tell my lady straight; [To them] I would not be 1947in some of your coats for twopence.

Come on, sir, hold!

Nay, let him alone. I'll go another way to work 1950with him: I'll have an action of battery against him, if 1951there be any law in Illyria. Though I struck him first, yet 1952it's no matter for that.

[To Sir Toby] Let go thy hand!

Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young 1955soldier, put up your iron. You are well fleshed. Come 1956on!

I will be free from thee. [He breaks free and draws his sword.] What wouldst thou now?

4.1.221958If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.

[Drawing] What, what! Nay then, I must have an ounce or 1960two of this malapert blood from you.

Hold, Toby! On thy life I charge thee, hold!

Madam.

Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,

4.1.271965Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,

4.1.281966Where manners ne'er were preached! Out of my sight!

4.1.291967[To Sebastian] Be not offended, dear Cesario.

4.1.301968[To Sir Toby] Rudesby, be gone! [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian.] [To Sebastian] I prithee, gentle friend,

4.1.311969Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway

4.1.321970In this uncivil and unjust extent

4.1.331971Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,

4.1.341972And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks

4.1.351973This ruffian hath botched up, that thou thereby

4.1.361974Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go;

4.1.371975Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me,

4.1.381976He started one poor heart of mine in thee.

[To the audience] What relish is in this? How runs the stream?

4.1.401978Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.

4.1.411979Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;

4.1.421980If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

Nay, come, I prithee; would thou'dst be ruled by me!

Madam, I will.

Madam, I will. O say so, and so be. Exeunt.

Nay, I prithee put on this gown, and this beard; 1987make him believe thou art Sir Topaz the curate. Do it 1988quickly. I'll call Sir Toby the whilst.

[To the audience] Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself 1990in't, and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in 1991such a gown. I am not tall enough to become the 1992function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good 1993student; but to be said an honest man and a good 1994housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great 1995scholar.

4.2.31995.1The competitors enter.

Jove bless thee, Master Parson.

Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, 1999that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece 2000of King Gorboduc, "That that is, is"; so I, being Master Parson, 2001am Master Parson; for what is "that" but "that," and "is" but "is"?

To him, Sir Topaz!

[In the voice of Sir Topaz] What ho, I say. Peace in this prison.

[To the audience or Maria] The knave counterfeits well: a good knave.

[Within] Who calls there?

Sir Topaz the curate, who comes to visit 2008Malvolio the lunatic.

[Within] Sir Topaz, Sir Topaz, good Sir Topaz, go to my 2010lady.

Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this 2012man! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

[Aside to Clown] Well said, Master Parson!

[Within] Sir Topaz, never was man thus wronged. Good 2015Sir Topaz, do not think I am mad: they have laid me 2016here in hideous darkness.

Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the 2018most modest terms-- [Including the audience] for I am one of those gentle ones 2019that will use the devil himself with courtesy--say'st thou 2020that house is dark?

[Within] As hell, Sir Topaz.

Why, it hath bay windows transparent as 2023barricadoes, and the clerestories toward the south-north are 2024as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of 2025obstruction?

[Within] I am not mad, Sir Topaz; I say to you this house is 2027dark.

Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness 2029but ignorance, in which thou art more puzzled than the 2030Egyptians in their fog.

[Within] I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though2032ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say there was 2033never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are. 2034Make the trial of it in any constant question.

What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning 2036wildfowl?

[Within] That the soul of our grandam might haply 2038inhabit a bird.

What think'st thou of his opinion?

[Within] I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve 2041his opinion.

Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness.2043Thou shalt hold th'opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow 2044of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock lest thou 2045dispossess the soul of thy grandam. [Moving away] Fare thee well.

[Within] Sir Topaz, Sir Topaz!

My most exquisite Sir Topaz!

Nay, I am for all waters.

Thou mightst have done this without thy beard 2050and gown; he sees thee not.

[To Clown] To him in thine own voice, and bring me word 2052how thou find'st him. I would we were well rid of this 2053knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would 2054he were, for I am now so far in offence with my niece, 2055that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the 2056upshot. Come by and by to my chamber.

[Within] Fool!

[Within] Fool!

[Within] Fool, I say!

4.2.39Who calls, ha?

[Within] Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at 2066my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper. 2067As I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee 2068for't.

Master Malvolio?

[Within] Ay, good fool.

Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?

[Within] Fool, there was never man so notoriously 2073abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be 2075no better in your wits than a fool.

[Within] They have here propertied me: keep me in 2077darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they 2078can to face me out of my wits.

Advise you what you say, the minister is here. 2080[Speaking as Sir Topaz] Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore. 2081Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble 2082babble.

[Within] Sir Topaz!

[As Sir Topaz] Maintain no words with him, good fellow. 2085[Speaking as himself] Who I, sir? Not I, sir! God buy you, good Sir Topaz. [As Sir Topaz] 2086Marry, amen. [As himself] I will, sir, I will.

[Within] Fool! Fool! Fool, I say!

Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent 2089for speaking to you.

[Within] Good fool, help me to some light, and some 2091paper; I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in 2092Illyria.

Well-a-day that you were, sir.

[Within] By this hand, I am! Good fool, some ink, 2095paper, and light; and convey what I will set down to my 2096lady. It shall advantage thee more than ever the 2097bearing of letter did.

I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not 2099mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit?

[Within] Believe me, I am not, I tell thee true.

Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains! 2102I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.

[Within] Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree. 2104I prithee, be gone!

[To the audience] This is the air, that is the glorious sun,

4.3.22116[Indicating the pearl] This pearl she gave me, I do feel't, and see't,

4.3.32117And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,

4.3.42118Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then?

4.3.52119I could not find him at the Elephant,

4.3.62120Yet there he was, and there I found this credit,

4.3.72121That he did range the town to seek me out.

4.3.82122His counsel now might do me golden service,

4.3.92123For though my soul disputes well (with my sense)

4.3.102124That this may be some error, but no madness,

4.3.112125Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune

4.3.122126So far exceed all instance, all discourse,

4.3.132127That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,

4.3.142128And wrangle with my reason that persuades me

4.3.152129To any other trust but that I am mad,

4.3.162130Or else the lady's mad. Yet if 'twere so,

4.3.172131She could not sway her house, command her followers,

4.3.182132Take and give back affairs and their dispatch,

4.3.192133With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing

4.3.202134As I perceive she does. There's something in't

4.3.212135That is deceivable.

That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.

Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well,

4.3.232138Now go with me, and with this holy man,

4.3.242139Into the chantry by; there before him,

4.3.252140And underneath that consecrated roof,

4.3.262141Plight me the full assurance of your faith,

4.3.272142That my most jealous and too doubtful soul

4.3.282143May live at peace. He shall conceal it,

4.3.292144Whiles you are willing it shall come to note

4.3.302145What time we will our celebration keep

4.3.312146According to my birth. What do you say?

I'll follow this good man, and go with you,

4.3.332148And having sworn truth, ever will be true.

Then lead the way, good father, and heavens so shine

2150That they may fairly note this act of mine.

Now as thou lov'st me, let me see his letter.

Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

Anything.

Do not desire to see this letter.

This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire 2159my dog again.

Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.

I know thee well. How dost thou, my good 2164fellow?

Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse 2166for my friends.

Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

No, sir, the worse.

How can that be?

Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me. 2171Now, my foes tell me plainly I am an ass, so that by my 2172foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my 2173friends I am abused. So that, conclusions to be as kisses, if 2174your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why 2175then, the worse for my friends and the better for my foes.

Why, this is excellent.

By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be 2178one of my friends.

Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there's gold.

But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would 2181you could make it another.

O you give me ill counsel.

Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, 2184and let your flesh and blood obey it.

Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-2186dealer; there's another. [Orsino gives him another gold coin.]

Primo, secundo, tertio is a good play; and the old 2188saying is, "the third pays for all"; the triplex, sir, is a good 2189tripping measure; or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put 2190you in mind: one, two, three.

You can fool no more money out of me at this 2192throw. If you will let your lady know I am here to speak 2193with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my 2194bounty further.

Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come 2196again. I go, sir, but I would not have you to think that 2197my desire of having is the sin of covetousness--but as 2198you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap; I will awake it 2199anon.

Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.

That face of his I do remember well;

5.1.262203Yet when I saw it last, it was besmeared

5.1.272204As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war.

5.1.282205A baubling vessel was he captain of,

5.1.292206For shallow draught and bulk, unprizable;

5.1.302207With which such scatheful grapple did he make

5.1.312208With the most noble bottom of our fleet,

5.1.322209That very envy, and the tongue of loss,

5.1.332210Cried fame and honor on him. What's the matter?

Orsino, this is that Antonio

5.1.352212That took the Phoenix, and her fraught from Candy,

5.1.362213And this is he that did the Tiger board

5.1.372214When your young nephew Titus lost his leg.

5.1.382215Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,

5.1.392216In private brabble did we apprehend him.

He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side,

5.1.412218But in conclusion put strange speech upon me;

5.1.422219I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

Notable pirate, thou saltwater thief,

5.1.442221What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies

5.1.452222Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,

5.1.462223Hast made thine enemies?

Hast made thine enemies? Orsino, noble sir,

5.1.472225Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me.

5.1.482226Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate,

5.1.492227Though I confess, on base and ground enough,

5.1.502228Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:

5.1.512229That most ingrateful boy there by your side

5.1.522230From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth

5.1.532231Did I redeem. A wrack past hope he was.

5.1.542232His life I gave him, and did thereto add

5.1.552233My love without retention or restraint,

5.1.562234All his in dedication. For his sake

5.1.572235Did I expose myself, pure for his love,

5.1.582236Into the danger of this adverse town;

5.1.592237Drew to defend him, when he was beset;

5.1.602238Where being apprehended, his false cunning,

5.1.612239Not meaning to partake with me in danger,

5.1.622240Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,

5.1.632241And grew a twenty years' removèd thing

5.1.642242While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,

5.1.652243Which I had recommended to his use

5.1.662244Not half an hour before.

Not half an hour before. How can this be?

When came he to this town?

Today, my lord; and for three months before,

5.1.692248No int'rim, not a minute's vacancy,

5.1.702249Both day and night did we keep company.

Here comes the countess, now heaven walks 2252on earth.

5.1.722253[To Antonio] But for thee, fellow--fellow, thy words are madness.

5.1.732254Three months this youth hath tended upon me;

5.1.742255But more of that anon. [To Officers] Take him aside.

What would my lord, but that he may not have,

5.1.762257Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?

5.1.772258[To Viola] Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

Madam--

Gracious Olivia--

What do you say, Cesario? [Silencing Orsino] Good my lord.

My lord would speak, my duty hushes me.

If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,

5.1.832264It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear

5.1.842265As howling after music.

Still so cruel?

Still so cruel? Still so constant, lord.

What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady,

5.1.872269To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars

5.1.882270My soul the faithfull'st off'rings have breathed out

5.1.892271That e'er devotion tendered! What shall I do?

Even what it please my lord, that shall become him

Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,

5.1.922274Like to th'Egyptian thief at point of death,

5.1.932275Kill what I love?--a savage jealousy,

5.1.942276That sometime savors nobly. But hear me this:

5.1.952277Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,

5.1.962278And that I partly know the instrument

5.1.972279That screws me from my true place in your favor,

5.1.982280Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still.

5.1.992281But [Seizing Viola] this your minion, whom I know you love,

5.1.1002282And whom, by heaven, I swear I tender dearly,

5.1.1012283Him will I tear out of that cruel eye

5.1.1022284Where he sits crownèd in his master's spite.

5.1.1032285Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief.

5.1.1042286I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,

5.1.1052287To spite a raven's heart within a dove. [He moves to exit with Viola.]

And I most jocund, apt, and willingly,

5.1.1072289To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

Where goes Cesario?

Where goes Cesario? After him I love

5.1.1092292More than I love these eyes, more than my life,

5.1.1102293More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.

5.1.1112294If I do feign, you witnesses above

5.1.1122295Punish my life, for tainting of my love.

Ay me, detested! How am I beguiled!

Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?

Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?

5.1.1162299Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant.]

Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant.] [To Cesario] Come, away.

Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay!

Husband?

Husband? Ay, husband. Can he that deny?

Her husband, sirrah?

Her husband, sirrah? No, my lord, not I.

Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear

5.1.1212307That makes thee strangle thy propriety.

5.1.1222308Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up,

5.1.1232309Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art

5.1.1242310As great as that thou fear'st.

5.1.1252312O welcome, father!

5.1.1262313Father, I charge thee by thy reverence

5.1.1272314Here to unfold (though lately we intended

5.1.1282315To keep in darkness what occasion now

5.1.1292316Reveals before 'tis ripe) what thou dost know

5.1.1302317Hath newly passed between this youth and me.

A contract of eternal bond of love,

5.1.1322319Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands,

5.1.1332320Attested by the holy close of lips,

5.1.1342321Strengthened by interchangement of your rings,

5.1.1352322And all the ceremony of this compact

5.1.1362323Sealed in my function, by my testimony;

5.1.1372324Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave

5.1.1382325I have travelled but two hours.

[To Viola] O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be

5.1.1402327When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case?

5.1.1412328Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow

5.1.1422329That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?

5.1.1432330Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feet

5.1.1442331Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

My lord, I do protest--

My lord, I do protest-- O, do not swear,

5.1.1462334Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one 2337presently to Sir Toby.

What's the matter?

He's broke my head across, and has given Sir 2340Toby a bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your 2341help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home.

Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

The count's gentleman, one Cesario. We took 2344him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

My gentleman Cesario?

[Seeing Viola] [and recoiling in fear]. 'Od's lifelings, here he is! [To her] You broke my head 2347for nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do't by Sir 2348Toby.

Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you.

5.1.1552350You drew your sword upon me without cause,

5.1.1562351But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt 2354me; I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. 2355Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more. But if 2356he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you 2357othergates than he did.

How now, gentleman? How is't with you?

That's all one, he's hurt me, and there's th'end on't. 2360[To Clown] Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?

Oh, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes 2362were set at eight i'th'morning.

Then he's a rogue, and a passy-measures pavan. I 2364hate a drunken rogue.

Away with him! Who hath made this havoc2366with them?

I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dressed 2368together.

Will you help? An ass-head, and a coxcomb, and 2370a knave? A thin-faced knave, a gull!

Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to.

I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman;

5.1.1672374But had it been the brother of my blood,

5.1.1682375I must have done no less with wit and safety.