The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works

Home > Fiction > The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works > Page 526
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 526

by William Shakespeare


  midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere,

  thou know’st –

  SIR ANDREW Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know,

  to be up late, is to be up late.

  5

  SIR TOBY A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.

  To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is

  early: so that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to

  bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the four

  elements?

  10

  SIR ANDREW Faith, so they say, but I think it rather

  consists of eating and drinking.

  SIR TOBY Th’art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.

  Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

  Enter CLOWN.

  SIR ANDREW Here comes the fool, i’faith.

  15

  CLOWN How now, my hearts? Did you never see the

  picture of ‘we three’?

  SIR TOBY Welcome, ass. Now let’s have a catch.

  SIR ANDREW By my troth, the fool has an excellent

  breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a

  20

  leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In

  sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night,

  when thou spok’st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians

  passing the equinoctial of Queubus: ’twas very good,

  i’faith: I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: hadst it?

  25

  CLOWN I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Malvolio’s

  nose is no whipstock, my lady has a white hand, and

  the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

  SIR ANDREW Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling,

  when all is done. Now a song!

  30

  SIR TOBY Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let’s have

  a song.

  SIR ANDREW There’s a testril of me too: if one knight

  give a –

  CLOWN Would you have a love-song, or a song of good

  35

  life?

  SIR TOBY A love-song, a love-song.

  SIR ANDREW Ay, ay. I care not for good life.

  CLOWN [Sings.]

  O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

  O stay and hear, your true love’s coming,

  40

  That can sing both high and low.

  Trip no further, pretty sweeting:

  Journeys end in lovers meeting,

  Every wise man’s son doth know.

  SIR ANDREW Excellent good, i’faith.

  45

  SIR TOBY Good, good.

  CLOWN

  What is love? ’Tis not hereafter,

  Present mirth hath present laughter: What’s to come is still unsure.

  In delay there lies no plenty,

  50

  Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty:

  Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

  SIR ANDREW A mellifluous voice, as I am a true knight.

  SIR TOBY A contagious breath.

  SIR ANDREW Very sweet and contagious, i’faith.

  55

  SIR TOBY To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.

  But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we

  rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three

  souls out of one weaver? Shall we do that?

  SIR ANDREW And you love me, let’s do’t: I am dog at a

  60

  catch.

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

  SIR ANDREW Most certain. Let our catch be, ‘Thou

  knave’.

  CLOWN ‘Hold thy peace, thou knave’, knight? I shall be

  65

  constrained in’t to call thee knave, knight.

  SIR ANDREW ’Tis not the first time I have constrained

  one to call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins, ‘Hold thy

  peace’.

  CLOWN I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

  70

  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 My lady’s a Cataian, we are politicians,

  75

  Malvolio’s a Peg-a-Ramsey, and [Sings.] ‘ Three merry

  men be we.’ Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of

  her blood? Tilly-vally! Lady! [Sings.] ‘ There dwelt a

  man in Babylon, Lady, Lady’.

  CLOWN Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable fooling.

  80

  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.

  TOBYSIR [Sings.] ‘O’the twelfth day of December –’

  MARIA For the love o’ God, peace!

  85

  Enter MALVOLIO.

  MALVOLIO My masters, are you mad? Or what are you?

  Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like

  tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an ale-house of

  my lady’s house, that ye squeak out your coziers’ catches

  without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no

  90

  respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

  SIR TOBY 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

  95

  can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you

  are welcome to the house: if not, and it would please

  you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you

  farewell.

  SIR TOBY [Sings.] Farewell, dear heart, since I must

  100

  needs be gone.

  MARIA Nay, good Sir Toby.

  CLOWN [Sings.] His eyes do show his days are almost done.

  MALVOLIO Is’t even so?

  SIR TOBY [Sings.] But I will never die.

  105

  CLOWN [Sings.] Sir Toby, there you lie.

  MALVOLIO This is much credit to you.

  SIR TOBY [Sings.] Shall I bid him go?

  CLOWN [Sings.] What and if you do?

  SIR TOBY [Sings.] Shall I bid him go, and spare not?

  110

  CLOWN [Sings.] O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

  SIR TOBY Out o’ time, 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’th’

  115

  mouth too. Exit.

  SIR TOBY Th’art i’th’ right. Go sir, rub your chain with

  crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

  MALVOLIO Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s

  favour at anything more than contempt, you would

  120

  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

  125

  break promise with him and make a fool of him.

  SIR TOBY 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 to-night. Since

  the youth of the Count’s was today with my lady, she

  130

  is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me

  alone with him. If I d
o 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.

  135

  SIR TOBY 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’d beat him like a dog.

  SIR TOBY What, for being a Puritan? Thy exquisite

  140

  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 anything

  constantly, but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass, that

  145

  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.

  150

  SIR TOBY 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

  155

  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 Excellent, I smell a device.

  SIR ANDREW I have’t in my nose too.

  160

  SIR TOBY 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

  165

  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

  170

  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 Good night, Penthesilea.

  SIR ANDREW Before me, she’s a good wench.

  175

  SIR TOBY She’s a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores

  me: what o’ that?

  SIR ANDREW I was adored once too.

  SIR TOBY Let’s to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send

  for more money.

  180

  SIR ANDREW If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul

  way out.

  SIR TOBY Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not

  i’th’ end, call me cut.

  SIR ANDREW If I do not, never trust me, take it how you

  185

  will.

  SIR TOBY Come, come, I’ll go burn some sack, ’tis too

  late to go to bed now. Come, knight, come, knight.

  Exeunt.

  2.4 Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO and others.

  ORSINO

  Give me some music. Now good morrow, friends.

  Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,

  That old and antic song we heard last night;

  Methought it did relieve my passion much,

  More than light airs and recollected terms

  5

  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.

  ORSINO Who was it?

  10

  CURIO Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the Lady

  OLIVIA’s father took much delight in. He is about the

  house.

  ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

  Exit Curio. Music plays.

  Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,

  15

  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 belov’d. How dost thou like this tune?

  20

  VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat

  Where love is thron’d.

  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.

  25

  ORSINO What kind of woman is’t?

 

‹ Prev