Twelfth Night (10 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

BOOK: Twelfth Night
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Reads

MALVOLIO
    ‘Jove knows I love,

But who?

Lips, do not move.

No man must know.’

‘No man must know.’ What follows? The
numbers altered!
90

‘No man must know.’ If this should be thee, Malvolio?

SIR TOBY
    Marry, hang thee,
brock!
92

Reads

MALVOLIO
    ‘I may command where I adore,

But silence, like a
Lucrece knife
94
,

With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:

M.O.A.I. doth
sway
96
my life.’

FABIAN
    A
fustian
97
riddle!

SIR TOBY
    Excellent wench, say I.

MALVOLIO
    ‘M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.’ Nay, but first let me see,

let me see, let me see.

FABIAN
    
What
dish o’poison has she
dressed
101
him.

SIR TOBY
    And with what
wing
the
staniel
checks
102
at it!

MALVOLIO
    ‘I may command where I adore.’ Why, she may

command me! I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to

any
formal capacity.
There is no
obstruction
105
in this. And the

end — what should that alphabetical
position
portend?
106
If I

could make that resemble something in me. Softly: M.O.A.I.—

SIR TOBY
    
O, ay
, make up that. He is now
at a cold scent.
108

FABIAN
    
Sowter
will
cry
109
upon’t for all this, though it be as

rank
110
as a fox.

MALVOLIO
    M. — Malvolio. M. — Why, that begins my name!

FABIAN
    Did not I say he would work it out? The
cur
112
is

excellent at
faults.
113

MALVOLIO
    M. — But then there is no
consonancy in the sequel
114

that
suffers
under
probation
115
: ‘A’ should follow but ‘O’ does.

FABIAN
    And
O shall end
116
, I hope.

SIR TOBY
    Ay, or I’ll cudgel him, and make him cry O!

MALVOLIO
    And then I comes behind.

FABIAN
    Ay, an you had any
eye
119
behind you, you might see

more
detraction
120
at your heels than fortunes before you.

MALVOLIO
    M.O.A.I. This
simulation
is not as the
former.
121
And

yet, to
crush
this a little, it would
bow
122
to me, for every one of

Reads

these letters are in my name. Soft, here follows prose: ‘If this

fall into thy hand,
revolve.
In my
stars
124
I am above

thee, but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great,

some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust

upon ’em. Thy Fates
open their hands.
Let thy
blood and spirit
127

embrace
them. And to
inure
thyself to what thou art
like
128
to

be,
cast
thy humble
slough
and appear fresh. Be
opposite
129
with

a kinsman, surly with servants. Let thy tongue
tang
130

arguments of state; put thyself into the
trick of singularity.
131

She thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who

commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee
ever
133

cross-gartered.
I say, remember.
Go to
134
, thou art made, if thou

desirest to be so. If not, let me see thee a steward still, the

fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers.

Farewell. She that would
alter services
137
with thee,

                    The
Fortunate-Unhappy.
138

Daylight and
champaign
discovers
not more. This is
open.
139
I

will be proud, I will read
politic
authors, I will
baffle
140
Sir

Toby, I will wash off
gross
acquaintance, I will be
point-
141

device the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let

imagination
jade
me; for every reason
excites
143
to this, that

my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of

late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered. And in this

she
manifests herself to
146
my love, and with a kind of

injunction
drives me to these
habits
147
of her liking. I thank

my stars, I am
happy.
I will be
strange
,
stout
148
, in yellow

stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of

putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript:

Reads

‘Thou canst not choose but know Reads

who I am. If thou
entertainest
152
my love, let it appear in thy

smiling. Thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my

presence
still
154
smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.’ Jove, I thank

thee. I will smile. I will do everything that thou wilt have

me.

Exit

Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian come out of hiding

FABIAN
    I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of

thousands to be paid from the
Sophy.
158

SIR TOBY
    I could marry this wench for this
device.
159

SIR ANDREW
    So could I too.

SIR TOBY
    And ask no other dowry with her but such another

jest.

Enter Maria

SIR ANDREW
    Nor I neither.

FABIAN
    Here comes my noble
gull-catcher.
164

SIR TOBY
    
Wilt thou set thy foot o’my neck?
165

SIR ANDREW
    Or o’mine either?

SIR TOBY
    Shall I
play
my freedom at
tray-trip
167
, and become thy

bondslave?
168

SIR ANDREW
    I’faith, or I either?

SIR TOBY
    Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that when

the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.

MARIA
    Nay, but say true, does it work upon him?

SIR TOBY
    Like
aqua-vitae
173
with a midwife.

MARIA
    If you will then see the
fruits
174
of the sport, mark his

first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow

stockings, and ’tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a

fashion she detests. And he will smile upon her, which will

now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a

melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a

notable
contempt.
180
If you will see it, follow me.

SIR TOBY
    To the gates of
Tartar
181
, thou most excellent devil

of wit!

SIR ANDREW
    I’ll
make one
183
too.

Exeunt

Act 3 Scene 1

running scene 10 continues

Enter Viola and Clown
[
Feste, with a tabor
]

VIOLA
    
Save
thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou
live by
1

thy tabor?

FESTE
    No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA
    Art thou a churchman?

FESTE
    No such matter, sir. I do live by the church, for I do

live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

VIOLA
    So thou mayst say, the king
lies by
7
a beggar, if a

beggar dwell near him, or the church
stands
8
by thy tabor, if

thy tabor
stand
9
by the church.

FESTE
    
You have said
, sir. To see this age! A
sentence
10
is but

a
cheveril
11
glove to a good wit. How quickly the wrong side

may be turned outward!

VIOLA
    Nay, that’s certain. They that
dally nicely
13
with

words may quickly make them
wanton.
14

FESTE
    I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.

VIOLA
    Why, man?

FESTE
    Why, sir, her name’s a word, and to dally with that

word might make my sister wanton. But indeed, words are

very rascals since
bonds
disgraced them.
19

VIOLA
    Thy reason, man?

FESTE
    Troth, sir, I can
yield
21
you none without words, and

words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with

them.

VIOLA
    I warrant thou art a merry fellow and car’st for

nothing.

FESTE
    Not so, sir, I do care for something. But in my

conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for

nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

VIOLA
    Art not thou the lady Olivia’s fool?

FESTE
    No, indeed, sir, the lady Olivia has no folly. She will

keep no fool, sir, till she be married, and fools are as like

husbands as
pilchards
32
are to herrings: the husband’s the

bigger. I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

VIOLA
    I saw thee
late
34
at the count Orsino’s.

FESTE
    Foolery, sir, does walk about the
orb
35
like the sun, it

shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir,
but
36
the fool should

be as oft with your master as with my mistress. I think I saw

your wisdom
38
there.

VIOLA
    Nay, an thou
pass upon
39
me, I’ll no more with thee.

Gives money

Hold, there’s expenses for thee.

FESTE
    Now Jove, in his next
commodity
41
of hair, send thee

a beard!

VIOLA
    By my troth I’ll tell thee, I am almost sick
for one
43

Aside

though I would not have it grow on my chin.— Is

thy lady within?

FESTE
    Would not a pair of
these
have
bred
46
, sir?

VIOLA
    Yes, being kept together and
put to use.
47

FESTE
    I would play Lord
Pandarus
of
Phrygia
48
, sir, to bring

a
Cressida
48
to this Troilus.

Gives more money

VIOLA
    I understand you, sir. ’Tis well

begged.

FESTE
    The matter, I hope, is not great, sir; begging but a

beggar.
Cressida was a beggar.
53
My lady is within, sir. I will

conster
54
to them whence you come. Who you are and what

you would are
out of my
welkin.
I might say ‘
element
55
’, but

the word is over-worn.

Exit

VIOLA
    This fellow is wise enough to play the fool,

And to do that well
craves
58
a kind of wit:

He must observe their mood on whom he jests,

The
quality
60
of persons, and the time,

And, like the
haggard
,
check
61
at every feather

That comes before his eye. This is a
practice
62

As full of labour as a wise man’s art,

For folly that he wisely shows
is fit
64
;

But wise men,
folly-fall’n
65
, quite taint their wit.

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