With
drinking
healths to my niece; I'll drink to her as
long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria.
long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria.
Shakespeare
Shout.
Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIOMEDES,
and the rest, marching
AGAMEMNON. Hark! hark! what shout is this?
NESTOR. Peace, drums!
SOLDIERS. [Within] Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain. Achilles!
DIOMEDES. The bruit is Hector's slain, and by Achilles.
AJAX. If it be so, yet bragless let it be;
Great Hector was as good a man as he.
AGAMEMNON. March patiently along. Let one be sent
To pray Achilles see us at our tent.
If in his death the gods have us befriended;
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.
Exeunt
ACT V. SCENE 10.
Another part of the plain
Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, and DEIPHOBUS
AENEAS. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.
Never go home; here starve we out the night.
Enter TROILUS
TROILUS. Hector is slain.
ALL. Hector! The gods forbid!
TROILUS. He's dead, and at the murderer's horse's tail,
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed.
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy.
I say at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on.
AENEAS. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
TROILUS. You understand me not that tell me so.
I do not speak of flight, of fear of death,
But dare all imminence that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone.
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd
Go in to Troy, and say there 'Hector's dead. '
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away;
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet. You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you. And, thou great-siz'd coward,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates;
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy. With comfort go;
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
Enter PANDARUS
PANDARUS. But hear you, hear you!
TROILUS. Hence, broker-lackey. Ignominy and shame
Pursue thy life and live aye with thy name!
Exeunt all but PANDARUS
PANDARUS. A goodly medicine for my aching bones! world! world! thus
is the poor agent despis'd! traitors and bawds, how earnestly are
you set a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be
so lov'd, and the performance so loathed? What verse for it? What
instance for it? Let me see-
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing
Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;
And being once subdu'd in armed trail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted
cloths. As many as be here of pander's hall,
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall;
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be made.
It should be now, but that my fear is this,
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss.
Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases,
And at that time bequeath you my diseases. Exit
THE END
<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM
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1602
TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL
by William Shakespeare
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ORSINO, Duke of Illyria
SEBASTIAN, brother of Viola
ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend of Sebastian
A SEA CAPTAIN, friend of Viola
VALENTINE, gentleman attending on the Duke
CURIO, gentleman attending on the Duke
SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle of Olivia
SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK
MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia
FABIAN, servant to Olivia
FESTE, a clown, servant to Olivia
OLIVIA, a rich countess
VIOLA, sister of Sebastian
MARIA, Olivia's waiting woman
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and Attendants
<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM
SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC. , AND IS
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WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE
DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS
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SCENE:
A city in Illyria; and the sea-coast near it
ACT I. SCENE I.
The DUKE'S palace
Enter ORSINO, Duke of Illyria, CURIO, and other LORDS; MUSICIANS attending
DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken and so die.
That strain again! It had a dying fall;
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough, no more;
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price
Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.
CURIO. Will you go hunt, my lord?
DUKE. What, Curio?
CURIO. The hart.
DUKE. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have.
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence!
That instant was I turn'd into a hart,
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me.
Enter VALENTINE
How now! what news from her?
VALENTINE. So please my lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years' heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But like a cloistress she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine; all this to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting in her sad remembrance.
DUKE. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fill'd,
Her sweet perfections, with one self king!
Away before me to sweet beds of flow'rs:
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bow'rs.
Exeunt
SCENE II.
The sea-coast
Enter VIOLA, a CAPTAIN, and SAILORS
VIOLA. What country, friends, is this?
CAPTAIN. This is Illyria, lady.
VIOLA. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd- what think you, sailors?
CAPTAIN. It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
VIOLA. O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.
CAPTAIN. True, madam, and, to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and those poor number saved with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself-
Courage and hope both teaching him the practice-
To a strong mast that liv'd upon the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
So long as I could see.
VIOLA. For saying so, there's gold.
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
CAPTAIN. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours' travel from this very place.
VIOLA. Who governs here?
CAPTAIN. A noble duke, in nature as in name.
VIOLA. What is his name?
CAPTAIN. Orsino.
VIOLA. Orsino! I have heard my father name him.
He was a bachelor then.
CAPTAIN. And so is now, or was so very late;
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmur- as, you know,
What great ones do the less will prattle of-
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
VIOLA. What's she?
CAPTAIN. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died; for whose dear love,
They say, she hath abjur'd the company
And sight of men.
VIOLA. O that I serv'd that lady,
And might not be delivered to the world,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is!
CAPTAIN. That were hard to compass,
Because she will admit no kind of suit-
No, not the Duke's.
VIOLA. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For such disguise as haply shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him;
It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing
And speak to him in many sorts of music,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap to time I will commit;
Only shape thou silence to my wit.
CAPTAIN. Be you his eunuch and your mute I'll be;
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
VIOLA. I thank thee. Lead me on. Exeunt
SCENE III.
OLIVIA'S house
Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA
SIR TOBY. What a plague means my niece to take the death of her
brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
MARIA. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights;
your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.
SIR TOBY. Why, let her except before excepted.
MARIA. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits
of order.
SIR TOBY. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am. These
clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too;
an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.
MARIA. That quaffing and drinking will undo you; I heard my lady
talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in
one night here to be her wooer.
SIR TOBY. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
MARIA. Ay, he.
SIR TOBY. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
MARIA. What's that to th' purpose?
SIR TOBY. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
MARIA. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a
very fool and a prodigal.
SIR TOBY. Fie that you'll say so! He plays o' th' viol-de-gamboys,
and speaks three or four languages word for word without book,
and hath all the good gifts of nature.
MARIA. He hath indeed, almost natural; for, besides that he's a
fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a
coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought
among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave.
SIR TOBY. By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that
say so of him. Who are they?
MARIA. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.
SIR TOBY.
With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her as
long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria.
He's a coward and a coystrill that will not drink to my niece
till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK
AGUECHEEK. Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch!
SIR TOBY. Sweet Sir Andrew!
AGUECHEEK. Bless you, fair shrew.
MARIA. And you too, sir.
SIR TOBY. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
AGUECHEEK. What's that?
SIR TOBY. My niece's chambermaid.
AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
MARIA. My name is Mary, sir.
AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Mary Accost-
SIR Toby. You mistake, knight. 'Accost' is front her, board her,
woo her, assail her.
AGUECHEEK. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company.
Is that the meaning of 'accost'?
MARIA. Fare you well, gentlemen.
SIR TOBY. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never
draw sword again!
AGUECHEEK. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw
sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?
MARIA. Sir, I have not you by th' hand.
AGUECHEEK. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
MARIA. Now, sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to
th' buttry-bar and let it drink.
AGUECHEEK. Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your metaphor?
MARIA. It's dry, sir.
AGUECHEEK. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass but I can keep my
hand dry. But what's your jest?
MARIA. A dry jest, sir.
AGUECHEEK. Are you full of them?
MARIA. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends; marry, now I let
go your hand, I am barren. Exit MARIA
SIR TOBY. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary! When did I see
thee so put down?
AGUECHEEK. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put
me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian
or an ordinary man has; but I am great eater of beef, and I
believe that does harm to my wit.
SIR TOBY. No question.
AGUECHEEK. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home
to-morrow, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY. Pourquoi, my dear knight?
AGUECHEEK. What is 'pourquoi'- do or not do? I would I had bestowed
that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and
bear-baiting. Oh, had I but followed the arts!
SIR TOBY. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
AGUECHEEK. Why, would that have mended my hair?
SIR TOBY. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
AGUECHEEK. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
SIR TOBY. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to
see a huswife take thee between her legs and spin it off.
AGUECHEEK. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will
not be seen, or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me;
the Count himself here hard by woos her.
SIR TOBY. She'll none o' th' Count; she'll not match above her
degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her
swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man.
AGUECHEEK. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' strangest
mind i' th' world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes
altogether.
SIR TOBY. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
AGUECHEEK. 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?
AGUECHEEK. Faith, I can cut a caper.
SIR TOBY. And I can cut the mutton to't.
AGUECHEEK. 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; I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. 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.
AGUECHEEK. Ay, 'tis 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?
AGUECHEEK. 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.
Enter DUKE, CURIO, and ATTENDANTS
VIOLA. I thank you. Here comes the Count.
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.
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.
and the rest, marching
AGAMEMNON. Hark! hark! what shout is this?
NESTOR. Peace, drums!
SOLDIERS. [Within] Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain. Achilles!
DIOMEDES. The bruit is Hector's slain, and by Achilles.
AJAX. If it be so, yet bragless let it be;
Great Hector was as good a man as he.
AGAMEMNON. March patiently along. Let one be sent
To pray Achilles see us at our tent.
If in his death the gods have us befriended;
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.
Exeunt
ACT V. SCENE 10.
Another part of the plain
Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, and DEIPHOBUS
AENEAS. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.
Never go home; here starve we out the night.
Enter TROILUS
TROILUS. Hector is slain.
ALL. Hector! The gods forbid!
TROILUS. He's dead, and at the murderer's horse's tail,
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed.
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy.
I say at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on.
AENEAS. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
TROILUS. You understand me not that tell me so.
I do not speak of flight, of fear of death,
But dare all imminence that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone.
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd
Go in to Troy, and say there 'Hector's dead. '
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away;
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet. You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you. And, thou great-siz'd coward,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates;
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy. With comfort go;
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
Enter PANDARUS
PANDARUS. But hear you, hear you!
TROILUS. Hence, broker-lackey. Ignominy and shame
Pursue thy life and live aye with thy name!
Exeunt all but PANDARUS
PANDARUS. A goodly medicine for my aching bones! world! world! thus
is the poor agent despis'd! traitors and bawds, how earnestly are
you set a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be
so lov'd, and the performance so loathed? What verse for it? What
instance for it? Let me see-
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing
Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;
And being once subdu'd in armed trail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted
cloths. As many as be here of pander's hall,
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall;
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be made.
It should be now, but that my fear is this,
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss.
Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases,
And at that time bequeath you my diseases. Exit
THE END
<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM
SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC. , AND IS
PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE
WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE
DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS
PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED
COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY
SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP. >>
1602
TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL
by William Shakespeare
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ORSINO, Duke of Illyria
SEBASTIAN, brother of Viola
ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend of Sebastian
A SEA CAPTAIN, friend of Viola
VALENTINE, gentleman attending on the Duke
CURIO, gentleman attending on the Duke
SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle of Olivia
SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK
MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia
FABIAN, servant to Olivia
FESTE, a clown, servant to Olivia
OLIVIA, a rich countess
VIOLA, sister of Sebastian
MARIA, Olivia's waiting woman
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and Attendants
<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM
SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC. , AND IS
PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE
WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE
DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS
PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED
COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY
SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP. >>
SCENE:
A city in Illyria; and the sea-coast near it
ACT I. SCENE I.
The DUKE'S palace
Enter ORSINO, Duke of Illyria, CURIO, and other LORDS; MUSICIANS attending
DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken and so die.
That strain again! It had a dying fall;
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough, no more;
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price
Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.
CURIO. Will you go hunt, my lord?
DUKE. What, Curio?
CURIO. The hart.
DUKE. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have.
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence!
That instant was I turn'd into a hart,
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me.
Enter VALENTINE
How now! what news from her?
VALENTINE. So please my lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years' heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But like a cloistress she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine; all this to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting in her sad remembrance.
DUKE. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fill'd,
Her sweet perfections, with one self king!
Away before me to sweet beds of flow'rs:
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bow'rs.
Exeunt
SCENE II.
The sea-coast
Enter VIOLA, a CAPTAIN, and SAILORS
VIOLA. What country, friends, is this?
CAPTAIN. This is Illyria, lady.
VIOLA. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd- what think you, sailors?
CAPTAIN. It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
VIOLA. O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be.
CAPTAIN. True, madam, and, to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and those poor number saved with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself-
Courage and hope both teaching him the practice-
To a strong mast that liv'd upon the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
So long as I could see.
VIOLA. For saying so, there's gold.
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?
CAPTAIN. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours' travel from this very place.
VIOLA. Who governs here?
CAPTAIN. A noble duke, in nature as in name.
VIOLA. What is his name?
CAPTAIN. Orsino.
VIOLA. Orsino! I have heard my father name him.
He was a bachelor then.
CAPTAIN. And so is now, or was so very late;
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmur- as, you know,
What great ones do the less will prattle of-
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
VIOLA. What's she?
CAPTAIN. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died; for whose dear love,
They say, she hath abjur'd the company
And sight of men.
VIOLA. O that I serv'd that lady,
And might not be delivered to the world,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is!
CAPTAIN. That were hard to compass,
Because she will admit no kind of suit-
No, not the Duke's.
VIOLA. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For such disguise as haply shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke:
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him;
It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing
And speak to him in many sorts of music,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap to time I will commit;
Only shape thou silence to my wit.
CAPTAIN. Be you his eunuch and your mute I'll be;
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
VIOLA. I thank thee. Lead me on. Exeunt
SCENE III.
OLIVIA'S house
Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA
SIR TOBY. What a plague means my niece to take the death of her
brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
MARIA. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights;
your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.
SIR TOBY. Why, let her except before excepted.
MARIA. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits
of order.
SIR TOBY. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am. These
clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too;
an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.
MARIA. That quaffing and drinking will undo you; I heard my lady
talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in
one night here to be her wooer.
SIR TOBY. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
MARIA. Ay, he.
SIR TOBY. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
MARIA. What's that to th' purpose?
SIR TOBY. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
MARIA. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a
very fool and a prodigal.
SIR TOBY. Fie that you'll say so! He plays o' th' viol-de-gamboys,
and speaks three or four languages word for word without book,
and hath all the good gifts of nature.
MARIA. He hath indeed, almost natural; for, besides that he's a
fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a
coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought
among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave.
SIR TOBY. By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that
say so of him. Who are they?
MARIA. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.
SIR TOBY.
With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her as
long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria.
He's a coward and a coystrill that will not drink to my niece
till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK
AGUECHEEK. Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch!
SIR TOBY. Sweet Sir Andrew!
AGUECHEEK. Bless you, fair shrew.
MARIA. And you too, sir.
SIR TOBY. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
AGUECHEEK. What's that?
SIR TOBY. My niece's chambermaid.
AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
MARIA. My name is Mary, sir.
AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Mary Accost-
SIR Toby. You mistake, knight. 'Accost' is front her, board her,
woo her, assail her.
AGUECHEEK. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company.
Is that the meaning of 'accost'?
MARIA. Fare you well, gentlemen.
SIR TOBY. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never
draw sword again!
AGUECHEEK. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw
sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?
MARIA. Sir, I have not you by th' hand.
AGUECHEEK. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.
MARIA. Now, sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to
th' buttry-bar and let it drink.
AGUECHEEK. Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your metaphor?
MARIA. It's dry, sir.
AGUECHEEK. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass but I can keep my
hand dry. But what's your jest?
MARIA. A dry jest, sir.
AGUECHEEK. Are you full of them?
MARIA. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends; marry, now I let
go your hand, I am barren. Exit MARIA
SIR TOBY. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary! When did I see
thee so put down?
AGUECHEEK. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put
me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian
or an ordinary man has; but I am great eater of beef, and I
believe that does harm to my wit.
SIR TOBY. No question.
AGUECHEEK. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home
to-morrow, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY. Pourquoi, my dear knight?
AGUECHEEK. What is 'pourquoi'- do or not do? I would I had bestowed
that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and
bear-baiting. Oh, had I but followed the arts!
SIR TOBY. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
AGUECHEEK. Why, would that have mended my hair?
SIR TOBY. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
AGUECHEEK. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
SIR TOBY. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to
see a huswife take thee between her legs and spin it off.
AGUECHEEK. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will
not be seen, or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me;
the Count himself here hard by woos her.
SIR TOBY. She'll none o' th' Count; she'll not match above her
degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her
swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man.
AGUECHEEK. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' strangest
mind i' th' world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes
altogether.
SIR TOBY. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
AGUECHEEK. 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?
AGUECHEEK. Faith, I can cut a caper.
SIR TOBY. And I can cut the mutton to't.
AGUECHEEK. 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; I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. 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.
AGUECHEEK. Ay, 'tis 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?
AGUECHEEK. 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.
Enter DUKE, CURIO, and ATTENDANTS
VIOLA. I thank you. Here comes the Count.
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.
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.
