| ACT ISCENE V | OLIVIA'S house. | |
| | Enter MARIA and Clown | |
| MARIA | Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will | |
| | not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in | |
| | way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence. | |
| Clown | Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this | 5 |
| | world needs to fear no colours. | |
| MARIA | Make that good. | |
| Clown | He shall see none to fear. | |
| MARIA | A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that | |
| | saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.' | 10 |
| Clown | Where, good Mistress Mary? | |
| MARIA | In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. | |
| Clown | Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those | |
| | that are fools, let them use their talents. | |
| MARIA | Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or, | 15 |
| | to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you? | |
| Clown | Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, | |
| | for turning away, let summer bear it out. | |
| MARIA | You are resolute, then? | |
| Clown | Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points. | 20 |
| MARIA | That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both | |
| | break, your gaskins fall. | |
| Clown | Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if | |
| | Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a | |
| | piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. | 25 |
| MARIA | Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my | |
| | lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. | |
| | Exit | |
| Clown | Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! | |
| | Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft | |
| | prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may | 30 |
| | pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus? | |
| | 'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.' | |
| | Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO | |
| | God bless thee, lady! | |
| OLIVIA | Take the fool away. | |
| Clown | Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. | 35 |
| OLIVIA | Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: | |
| | besides, you grow dishonest. | |
| Clown | Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel | |
| | will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is | |
| | the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend | 40 |
| | himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if | |
| | he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing | |
| | that's mended is but patched: virtue that | |
| | transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that | |
| | amends is but patched with virtue. If that this | 45 |
| | simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, | |
| | what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but | |
| | calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take | |
| | away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. | |
| OLIVIA | Sir, I bade them take away you. | 50 |
| Clown | Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non | |
| | facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not | |
| | motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to | |
| | prove you a fool. | |
| OLIVIA | Can you do it? | 55 |
| Clown | Dexterously, good madonna. | |
| OLIVIA | Make your proof. | |
| Clown | I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse | |
| | of virtue, answer me. | |
| OLIVIA | Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof. | 60 |
| Clown | Good madonna, why mournest thou? | |
| OLIVIA | Good fool, for my brother's death. | |
| Clown | I think his soul is in hell, madonna. | |
| OLIVIA | I know his soul is in heaven, fool. | |
| Clown | The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's | 65 |
| | soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen. | |
| OLIVIA | What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend? | |
| MALVOLIO | Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him: | |
| | infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the | |
| | better fool. | 70 |
| Clown | God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the | |
| | better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be | |
| | sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his | |
| | word for two pence that you are no fool. | |
| OLIVIA | How say you to that, Malvolio? | 75 |
| MALVOLIO | I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a | |
| | barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day | |
| | with an ordinary fool that has no more brain | |
| | than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard | |
| | already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to | 80 |
| | him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, | |
| | that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better | |
| | than the fools' zanies. | |
| OLIVIA | Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste | |
| | with a distempered appetite. To be generous, | 85 |
| | guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those | |
| | things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets: | |
| | there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do | |
| | nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet | |
| | man, though he do nothing but reprove. | 90 |
| Clown | Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou | |
| | speakest well of fools! | |
| | Re-enter MARIA | |
| MARIA | Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much | |
| | desires to speak with you. | |
| OLIVIA | From the Count Orsino, is it? | 95 |
| MARIA | I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended. | |
| OLIVIA | Who of my people hold him in delay? | |
| MARIA | Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. | |
| OLIVIA | Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but | |
| | madman: fie on him! | 100 |
| | Exit MARIA | |
| | Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I | |
| | am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. | |
| | Exit MALVOLIO | |
| | Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and | |
| | people dislike it. | |
| Clown | Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest | 105 |
| | son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with | |
| | brains! for,--here he comes,--one of thy kin has a | |
| | most weak pia mater. | |
| | Enter SIR TOBY BELCH | |
| OLIVIA | By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin? | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | A gentleman. | 110 |
| OLIVIA | A gentleman! what gentleman? | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | 'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these | |
| | pickle-herring! How now, sot! | |
| Clown | Good Sir Toby! | |
| OLIVIA | Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? | 115 |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate. | |
| OLIVIA | Ay, marry, what is he? | |
| SIR TOBY BELCH | Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give | |
| | me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. | |
| | Exit | |
| OLIVIA | What's a drunken man like, fool? | 120 |
| Clown | Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one | |
| | draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads | |
| | him; and a third drowns him. | |
| OLIVIA | Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my | |
| | coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's | 125 |
| | drowned: go, look after him. | |
| Clown | He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look | |
| | to the madman. | |
| | Exit | |
| | Re-enter MALVOLIO | |
| MALVOLIO | Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with | |
| | you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to | 130 |
| | understand so much, and therefore comes to speak | |
| | with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to | |
| | have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore | |
| | comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, | |
| | lady? he's fortified against any denial. | 135 |
| OLIVIA | Tell him he shall not speak with me. | |
| MALVOLIO | Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your | |
| | door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to | |
| | a bench, but he'll speak with you. | |
| OLIVIA | What kind o' man is he? | 140 |
| MALVOLIO | Why, of mankind. | |
| OLIVIA | What manner of man? | |
| MALVOLIO | Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no. | |
| OLIVIA | Of what personage and years is he? | |
| MALVOLIO | Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for | 145 |
| | a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a | |
| | cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him | |
| | in standing water, between boy and man. He is very | |
| | well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one | |
| | would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him. | 150 |
| OLIVIA | Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman. | |
| MALVOLIO | Gentlewoman, my lady calls. | |
| | Exit | |
| | Re-enter MARIA | |
| OLIVIA | Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face. | |
| | We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. | |
| | Enter VIOLA, and Attendants | |
| VIOLA | The honourable lady of the house, which is she? | 155 |
| OLIVIA | Speak to me; I shall answer for her. | |
| | Your will? | |
| VIOLA | Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,--I | |
| | pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, | |
| | for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away | 160 |
| | my speech, for besides that it is excellently well | |
| | penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good | |
| | beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very | |
| | comptible, even to the least sinister usage. | |
| OLIVIA | Whence came you, sir? | 165 |
| VIOLA | I can say little more than I have studied, and that | |
| | question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me | |
| | modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, | |
| | that I may proceed in my speech. | |
| OLIVIA | Are you a comedian? | 170 |
| VIOLA | No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs | |
| | of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you | |
| | the lady of the house? | |
| OLIVIA | If I do not usurp myself, I am. | |
| VIOLA | Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp | 175 |
| | yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours | |
| | to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will | |
| | on with my speech in your praise, and then show you | |
| | the heart of my message. | |
| OLIVIA | Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise. | 180 |
| VIOLA | Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. | |
| OLIVIA | It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you, | |
| | keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, | |
| | and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you | |
| | than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if | 185 |
| | you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of | |
| | moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue. | |
| MARIA | Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. | |
| VIOLA | No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little | |
| | longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet | 190 |
| | lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger. | |
| OLIVIA | Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when | |
| | the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. | |
| VIOLA | It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of | |
| | war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my | 195 |
| | hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter. | |
| OLIVIA | Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you? | |
| VIOLA | The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I | |
| | learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I | |
| | would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears, | 200 |
| | divinity, to any other's, profanation. | |
| OLIVIA | Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. | |
| | Exeunt MARIA and Attendants | |
| | Now, sir, what is your text? | |
| VIOLA | Most sweet lady,-- | |
| OLIVIA | A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. | 205 |
| | Where lies your text? | |
| VIOLA | In Orsino's bosom. | |
| OLIVIA | In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom? | |
| VIOLA | To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. | |
| OLIVIA | O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say? | 210 |
| VIOLA | Good madam, let me see your face. | |
| OLIVIA | Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate | |
| | with my face? You are now out of your text: but | |
| | we will draw the curtain and show you the picture. | |
| | Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't | 215 |
| | not well done? | |
| | Unveiling | |
| VIOLA | Excellently done, if God did all. | |
| OLIVIA | 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. | |
| VIOLA | 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white | |
| | Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: | 220 |
| | Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, | |
| | If you will lead these graces to the grave | |
| | And leave the world no copy. | |
| OLIVIA | O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give | |
| | out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be | 225 |
| | inventoried, and every particle and utensil | |
| | labelled to my will: as, item, two lips, | |
| | indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to | |
| | them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were | |
| | you sent hither to praise me? | 230 |
| VIOLA | I see you what you are, you are too proud; | |
| | But, if you were the devil, you are fair. | |
| | My lord and master loves you: O, such love | |
| | Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd | |
| | The nonpareil of beauty! | 235 |
| OLIVIA | How does he love me? | |
| VIOLA | With adorations, fertile tears, | |
| | With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. | |
| OLIVIA | Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him: | |
| | Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, | 240 |
| | Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; | |
| | In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant; | |
| | And in dimension and the shape of nature | |
| | A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him; | |
| | He might have took his answer long ago. | 245 |
| VIOLA | If I did love you in my master's flame, | |
| | With such a suffering, such a deadly life, | |
| | In your denial I would find no sense; | |
| | I would not understand it. | |
| OLIVIA | Why, what would you? | 250 |
| VIOLA | Make me a willow cabin at your gate, | |
| | And call upon my soul within the house; | |
| | Write loyal cantons of contemned love | |
| | And sing them loud even in the dead of night; | |
| | Halloo your name to the reverberate hills | 255 |
| | And make the babbling gossip of the air | |
| | Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest | |
| | Between the elements of air and earth, | |
| | But you should pity me! | |
| OLIVIA | You might do much. | 260 |
| | What is your parentage? | |
| VIOLA | Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: | |
| | I am a gentleman. | |
| OLIVIA | Get you to your lord; | |
| | I cannot love him: let him send no more; | 265 |
| | Unless, perchance, you come to me again, | |
| | To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: | |
| | I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. | |
| VIOLA | I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse: | |
| | My master, not myself, lacks recompense. | 270 |
| | Love make his heart of flint that you shall love; | |
| | And let your fervor, like my master's, be | |
| | Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. | |
| | Exit | |
| OLIVIA | 'What is your parentage?' | |
| | 'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: | 275 |
| | I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art; | |
| | Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit, | |
| | Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast: | |
| | soft, soft! | |
| | Unless the master were the man. How now! | 280 |
| | Even so quickly may one catch the plague? | |
| | Methinks I feel this youth's perfections | |
| | With an invisible and subtle stealth | |
| | To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. | |
| | What ho, Malvolio! | 285 |
| | Re-enter MALVOLIO | |
| MALVOLIO | Here, madam, at your service. | |
| OLIVIA | Run after that same peevish messenger, | |
| | The county's man: he left this ring behind him, | |
| | Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it. | |
| | Desire him not to flatter with his lord, | 290 |
| | Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: | |
| | If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, | |
| | I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio. | |
| MALVOLIO | Madam, I will. | |
| | Exit | |
| OLIVIA | I do I know not what, and fear to find | 295 |
| | Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. | |
| | Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe; | |
| | What is decreed must be, and be this so. | |
| | Exit | |
