The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  FESTE Primo, secundo, tertio is a good play, and the old saying is ‘The third pays for all’. The triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure, or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind—‘one, two, three’.

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

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

  Exit

  Enter Antonio and Officers

  VIOLA

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

  ORSINO

  That face of his I do remember well,

  Yet when I saw it last it was besmeared

  As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war.

  A baubling vessel was he captain of,

  For shallow draught and bulk unprizable,

  With which such scatheful grapple did he make

  With the most noble bottom of our fleet

  That very envy and the tongue of loss

  Cried fame and honour on him. What’s the matter?

  FIRST OFFICER

  Orsino, this is that Antonio

  That took the Phoenix and her freight from Candy,

  And this is he that did the Tiger board

  When your young nephew Titus lost his leg.

  Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,

  In private brabble did we apprehend him.

  VIOLA

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

  But in conclusion put strange speech upon me.

  I know not what ’twas but distraction.

  ORSINO (to Antonio)

  Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief,

  What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies

  Whom thou in terms so bloody and so dear

  Hast made thine enemies?

  ANTONIO

  Orsino, noble sir,

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

  Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,

  Though, I confess, on base and ground enough

  Orsino’s enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither.

  That most ingrateful boy there by your side

  From the rude sea’s enraged and foamy mouth

  Did I redeem. A wreck past hope he was.

  His life I gave him, and did thereto add

  My love without retention or restraint,

  All his in dedication. For his sake

  Did I expose myself, pure for his love,

  Into the danger of this adverse town,

  Drew to defend him when he was beset,

  Where being apprehended, his false cunning—

  Not meaning to partake with me in danger—

  Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,

  And grew a twenty years’ removed thing

  While one would wink, denied me mine own purse,

  Which I had recommended to his use

  Not half an hour before.

  VIOLA How can this be?

  ORSINO When came he to this town?

  ANTONIO

  Today, my lord, and for three months before,

  No int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy,

  Both day and night did we keep company.

  Enter Olivia and attendants

  ORSINO

  Here comes the Countess. Now heaven walks on

  earth.

  But for thee, fellow—fellow, thy words are madness.

  Three months this youth hath tended upon me.

  But more of that anon. Take him aside.

  OLIVIA

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

  Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?

  Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

  VIOLA Madam—

  ORSINO Gracious Olivia—

  OLIVIA

  What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord—

  VIOLA

  My lord would speak, my duty hushes me.

  OLIVIA

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

  It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear

  As howling after music.

  ORSINO Still so cruel?

  OLIVIA Still so constant, lord.

  ORSINO

  What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady,

  To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars

  My soul the faithfull‘st off’rings hath breathed out

  That e’er devotion tendered—what shall I do?

  OLIVIA

  Even what it please my lord that shall become him.

  ORSINO

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

  Like to th’ Egyptian thief, at point of death

  Kill what I love—a savage jealousy

  That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this:

  Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,

  And that I partly know the instrument

  That screws me from my true place in your favour,

  Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still.

  But this your minion, whom I know you love,

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

  Him will I tear out of that cruel eye

  Where he sits crowned in his master’s spite.

  (To Viola) Come, boy, with me. My thoughts are ripe

  in mischief.

  I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love

  To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.

  VIOLA

  And I most jocund, apt, and willingly

  To do you rest a thousand deaths would die.

  OLIVIA

  Where goes Cesario?

  VIOLA

  After him I love

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

  More by all mores than e’er I shall love wife.

  If I do feign, you witnesses above,

  Punish my life for tainting of my love.

  OLIVIA

  Ay me detested, how am I beguiled!

  VIOLA

  Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?

  OLIVIA

  Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?

  Call forth the holy father. Exit an attendant

  ORSINO (to Viola)

  Come, away.

  OLIVIA

  Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.

  ORSINO

  Husband?

  OLIVIA Ay, husband. Can he that deny?

  ORSINO (to Viola)

  Her husband, sirrah?

  VIOLA

  No, my lord, not I.

  OLIVIA

  Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear

  That makes thee strangle thy propriety.

  Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up,

  Be that thou know‘st thou art, and then thou art

  As great as that thou fear’st.

  Enter the Priest

  O welcome, father.

  Father, I charge thee by thy reverence

  Here to unfold—though lately we intended

  To keep in darkness what occasion now

  Reveals before ’tis ripe—what thou dost know

  Hath newly passed between this youth and me.

  PRIEST

  A contract of eternal bond of love,

  Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands,

  Attested by the holy close of lips,

  Strengthened by interchangement of your rings,

  And all the ceremony of this compact

  Sealed in my function, by my testimony;

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

  I have travelled but two hours.

  ORSINO (to Viola)

  O thou dissembling cub, what wilt thou be

  When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case?

  O
r will not else thy craft so quickly grow

  That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?

  Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feet

  Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

  VIOLA

  My lord, I do protest.

  OLIVIA

  O, do not swear!

  Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

  Enter Sir Andrew

  SIR ANDREW For the love of God, a surgeon—send one presently to Sir Toby.

  OLIVIA What’s the matter?

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

  OLIVIA Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

  SIR ANDREW The Count’s gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate.

  ORSINO My gentleman, Cesario?

  SIR ANDREW ’Od’s lifelings, here he is. (To Viola) You broke my head for nothing, and that that I did I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby.

  VIOLA

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

  You drew your sword upon me without cause,

  But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

  Enter Sir Toby and Feste, the clown

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

  ORSINO (to Sir Toby)

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

  SIR TOBY That’s all one, he’s hurt me, and there’s th’end on’t. (To Feste) Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?

  FESTE O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone. His eyes were set at eight i’th’ morning.

  SIR TOBY Then he’s a rogue, and a passy-measures pavan.

  I hate a drunken rogue.

  OLIVIA

  Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?

  SIR ANDREW I’ll help you, Sir Toby, because we’ll be dressed together.

  SIR TOBY Will you help—an ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave; a thin-faced knave, a gull?

  OLIVIA

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

  Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, Feste, and Fabian

  Enter Sebastian

  SEBASTIAN (to Olivia)

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

  But had it been the brother of my blood

  I must have done no less with wit and safety.

  You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that

  I do perceive it hath offended you.

  Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows

  We made each other but so late ago.

  ORSINO

  One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,

  A natural perspective, that is and is not.

  SEBASTIAN

  Antonio! O, my dear Antonio,

  How have the hours racked and tortured me

  Since I have lost thee!

  ANTONIO Sebastian are you?

  SEBASTIAN Fear’st thou that, Antonio?

  ANTONIO

  How have you made division of yourself?

  An apple cleft in two is not more twin

  Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

  OLIVIA Most wonderfull

  SEBASTIAN (seeing Viola)

  Do I stand there? I never had a brother,

  Nor can there be that deity in my nature

  Of here and everywhere. I had a sister,

  Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured.

  Of charity, what kin are you to me?

  What countryman? What name? What parentage?

  VIOLA

  Of Messaline. Sebastian was my father.

  Such a Sebastian was my brother, too.

  So went he suited to his watery tomb.

  If spirits can assume both form and suit

  You come to fright us.

  SEBASTIAN A spirit I am indeed,

  But am in that dimension grossly clad

  Which from the womb I did participate.

  Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,

  I should my tears let fall upon your cheek

  And say ‘Thrice welcome, drowned Viola.’

  VIOLA

  My father had a mole upon his brow

  SEBASTIAN And so had mine.

  VIOLA

  And died that day when Viola from her birth

  Had numbered thirteen years.

  SEBASTIAN

  O, that record is lively in my soul.

  He finished indeed his mortal act

  That day that made my sister thirteen years.

  VIOLA

  If nothing lets to make us happy both

  But this my masculine usurped attire,

  Do not embrace me till each circumstance

  Of place, time, fortune do cohere and jump

  That I am Viola, which to confirm

  I’ll bring you to a captain in this town

  Where lie my maiden weeds, by whose gentle help

  I was preserved to serve this noble count.

  All the occurrence of my fortune since

  Hath been between this lady and this lord.

  SEBASTIAN (to Olivia)

  So comes it, lady, you have been mistook.

  But nature to her bias drew in that.

  You would have been contracted to a maid,

  Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived.

  You are betrothed both to a maid and man.

  ORSINO (to Olivia)

  Be not amazed. Right noble is his blood.

  If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,

  I shall have share in this most happy wreck.

  (To Viola) Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times

  Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

  VIOLA

  And all those sayings will I overswear,

  And all those swearings keep as true in soul

  As doth that orbed continent the fire

  That severs day from night.

  ORSINO Give me thy hand,

  And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.

  VIOLA

  The captain that did bring me first on shore

  Hath my maid’s garments. He upon some action

  Is now in durance, at Malvolio’s suit,

  A gentleman and follower of my lady’s.

  OLIVIA

  He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither—

  And yet, alas, now I remember me,

  They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distraught.

  Enter Feste the clown with a letter, and Fabian

  A most extracting frenzy of mine own

  From my remembrance clearly banished his.

  How does he, sirrah?

  FESTE Truly, madam, he holds Beelzebub at the stave’s end as well as a man in his case may do. He’s here writ a letter to you. I should have given’t you today morning. But as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.

  OLIVIA Open’t and read it.

  FESTE Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman. (Reads) ‘By the Lord, madam’—

  OLIVIA How now, art thou mad?

  FESTE No, madam, I do but read madness. An your ladyship will have it as it ought to be you must allow vox.

  OLIVIA Prithee, read i’thy right wits.

  FESTE So I do, madonna, but to read his right wits is to read thus. Therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

  OLIVIA (to Fabian) Read it you, sirrah.

  Feste gives the letter to Fabian

  FABIAN (reads) ‘By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put
on, with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury.

  The madly-used Malvolio.’

  OLIVIA Did he write this?

  FESTE Ay, madam.

  ORSINO

  This savours not much of distraction.

  OLIVIA

  See him delivered, Fabian, bring him hither.

  My lord, so please you—these things further thought

  on—

  To think me as well a sister as a wife,

  One day shall crown th‘alliance on’t, so please you,

  Here at my house and at my proper cost.

  ORSINO

  Madam, I am most apt t’embrace your offer.

  (To Viola) Your master quits you, and for your service

  done him

  So much against the mettle of your sex,

  So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,

  And since you called me master for so long,

  Here is my hand. You shall from this time be

  Your master’s mistress.

  OLIVIA (to Viola) A sister, you are she.

  Enter Malvolio

  ORSINO

  Is this the madman?

  OLIVIA Ay, my lord, this same.

  How now, Malvolio?

  MALVOLIO Madam, you have done me wrong,

  Notorious wrong.

  OLIVIA Have I, Malvolio? No.

  MALVOLIO (showing a letter)

  Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter.

  You must not now deny it is your hand.

  Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase,

  Or say ‘tis not your seal, not your invention.

  You can say none of this. Well, grant it then,

  And tell me in the modesty of honour

  Why you have given me such clear lights of favour,

  Bade me come smiling and cross-gartered to you,

  To put on yellow stockings, and to frown

  Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people,

  And acting this in an obedient hope,

  Why have you suffered me to be imprisoned,

  Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,

  And made the most notorious geck and gull

  That e’er invention played on? Tell me why?

  OLIVIA

  Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,

  Though I confess much like the character,

  But out of question, ‘tis Maria’s hand.

  And now I do bethink me, it was she

  First told me thou wast mad; then cam’st in smiling,

  And in such forms which here were presupposed

  Upon thee in the letter. Prithee be content;

  This practice hath most shrewdly passed upon thee,