by A. A. Milne
* * *
Clown
I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
Good, i' faith. Come, begin.
Catch sung
Enter MARIA
* * *
MARIA
What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady
have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him
turn you out of doors, never trust me.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's
a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not
I consanguineous? am I not of her blood?
Tillyvally. Lady!
Sings
'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'
* * *
Clown
Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do
I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it
more natural.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
[Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'—
* * *
MARIA
For the love o' God, peace!
Enter MALVOLIO
* * *
MALVOLIO
My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an
alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your
coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor
time in you?
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!
* * *
MALVOLIO
Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me
tell you, that, though she harbours you as her
kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If
you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you
are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please
you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid
you farewell.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'
* * *
MARIA
Nay, good Sir Toby.
* * *
Clown
'His eyes do show his days are almost done.'
* * *
MALVOLIO
Is't even so?
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
'But I will never die.'
* * *
Clown
Sir Toby, there you lie.
* * *
MALVOLIO
This is much credit to you.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
'Shall I bid him go?'
* * *
Clown
'What an if you do?'
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'
* * *
Clown
'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a
steward? Dost thou think, because thou art
virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
* * *
Clown
Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the
mouth too.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!
* * *
MALVOLIO
Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any
thing more than contempt, you would not give means
for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.
Exit
* * *
MARIA
Go shake your ears.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's
a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to
break promise with him and make a fool of him.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll
deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
* * *
MARIA
Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the
youth of the count's was today with thy lady, she is
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me
alone with him: if I do not gull him into a
nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not
think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:
I know I can do it.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.
* * *
MARIA
Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
dear knight?
* * *
SIR ANDREW
I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason
good enough.
* * *
MARIA
The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass,
that cons state without book and utters it by great
swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so
crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is
his grounds of faith that all that look on him love
him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find
notable cause to work.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
What wilt thou do?
* * *
MARIA
I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure
of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find
himself most feelingly personated. I can write very
like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we
can hardly make distinction of our hands.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Excellent! I smell a device.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
I have't in my nose too.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
that they come from my niece, and that she's in
love with him.
* * *
MARIA
My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
And your horse now would make him an ass.
* * *
MARIA
Ass, I doubt not.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
O, 'twill be admirable!
* * *
MARIA
Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will
work with him. I will plant you two, and let the
fool make a third, where he shall find the letter:
observe his construction of it. For this night, to
bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.
Exit
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Good night, Penthesilea.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me:
what o' that?
* * *
SIR ANDREW
I was adored once too.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for
more money.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i'
the end, call me cut.
* * *
SIR ANDREW
If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.
* * *
SIR TOBY BELCH
Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late
to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.
Exeunt
Scene IV. Duke Orsino's Palace.
Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and others
DUKE ORSINO
Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night:
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.
* * *
CURIO
He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
Who was it?
* * *
CURIO
Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady
Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
Exit CURIO. Music plays
Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
For such as I am all true lovers are,
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
* * *
VIOLA
It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is throned.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
Thou dost speak masterly:
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:
Hath it not, boy?
* * *
VIOLA
A little, by your favour.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
What kind of woman is't?
* * *
VIOLA
Of your complexion.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith?
* * *
VIOLA
About your years, my lord.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
Too old by heaven: let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.
* * *
VIOLA
I think it well, my lord.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
* * *
VIOLA
And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!
Re-enter CURIO and Clown
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
* * *
Clown
Are you ready, sir?
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
Ay; prithee, sing.
Music
SONG.
* * *
Clown
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there!
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
There's for thy pains.
* * *
Clown
No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
I'll pay thy pleasure then.
* * *
Clown
Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
Give me now leave to leave thee.
* * *
Clown
Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for
thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such
constancy put to sea, that their business might be
every thing and their intent every where; for that's
it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Exit
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
Let all the rest give place.
CURIO and Attendants retire
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
* * *
VIOLA
But if she cannot love you, sir?
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
I cannot be so answer'd.
* * *
VIOLA
Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love a great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd?
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
There is no woman's sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
* * *
VIOLA
Ay, but I know—
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
What dost thou know?
* * *
VIOLA
Too well what love women to men may owe:
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter loved a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
* * *
DUKE ORSINO
And what's her history?
* * *