Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare [the lemonade war series .TXT] 📗

/> Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

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

SIR TOBY.
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

SIR ANDREW.
Faith, I can cut a caper.

SIR TOBY.
And I can cut the mutton to't.

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

SIR TOBY.
Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a
curtain before 'em? are they like to take dust, like Mistress
Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and
come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig. What dost
thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the
excellent constitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the star
of a galliard.

SIR ANDREW.
Ay, 't is strong, and it does indifferent well in flame-colour'd
stock. Shall we set about some revels?

SIR TOBY.
What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

SIR ANDREW.
Taurus! That's sides and heart.

SIR TOBY.
No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the caper. Ha! higher!
ha, ha, excellent!

[Exeunt.]


SCENE IV.

The DUKE'S palace.

[Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire.]

VALENTINE.
If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are
like to be much advanc'd. He hath known you but three days, and
already you are no stranger.

VIOLA.
You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in
question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in
his favours?

VALENTINE.
No, believe me.

VIOLA.
I thank you. Here comes the Count.

[Enter DUKE, CURIO, and ATTENDANTS.]

DUKE.
Who saw Cesario, ho?

VIOLA.
On your attendance, my lord; here.

DUKE.
Stand you awhile aloof. Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul.
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou have audience.

VIOLA.
Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

DUKE.
Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds
Rather than make unprofited return.

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

DUKE.
O, then unfold the passion of my love,
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith!
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth
Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.

VIOLA.
I think not so, my lord.

DUKE.
Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.
I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affair. Some four or five attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best
When least in company. Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

VIOLA.
I'll do my best
To woo your lady, - [Aside] yet, a barful strife!
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE 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 hang'd in this 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.'

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 hang'd for being so long absent; or to be turn'd
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 resolv'd on two points.

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.

MARIA.
Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady; make your
excuse wisely, you were best.

[Exit.]

CLOWN.
Wit, and '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 pass for a wise man: for what says
Quinapalus? 'Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.'

[Enter LADY OLIVIA with MALVOLIO.]

God bless thee, lady!

OLIVIA.
Take the fool away.

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

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 himself; if he mend, he is no longer
dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
that's mended is but patch'd; virtue that transgresses is but
patch'd with sin; and sin that amends is but patch'd with virtue.
If that this 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.

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?

CLOWN.
Dexteriously, good madonna.

OLIVIA.
Make your proof.

CLOWN.
I must catechize you for it, madonna; good my mouse of virtue,
answer me.

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

CLOWN.
Good madonna, why mourn'st 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 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.

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 twopence that you are no fool.

OLIVIA.
How say you to that, Malvolio?

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 him,
he is gagg'd. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at
these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies.

OLIVIA.
O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a
distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free
disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem
cannon bullets. There is no slander in an allow'd fool, though he
do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man,
though he do nothing but reprove.

CLOWN.
Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st 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?

MARIA.
I know not, madam; 't is 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! [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 son should be a
fool; whose skull Jove cram with brains! for - here he comes -

[Enter SIR TOBY.]

one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.

OLIVIA.
By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?

SIR TOBY.
A gentleman.

OLIVIA.
A gentleman! what gentleman?

SIR TOBY.
'T is a gentleman 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?

SIR TOBY.
Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.

OLIVIA.
Ay, marry, what is he?

SIR TOBY.
Let him be the devil, and he will, I care not; give me faith, say
I. Well, it's all one.
[Exit.]

OLIVIA.
What's a drunken man like, fool?

CLOWN.
Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: 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 drown'd: 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 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.

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?

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