William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (332 page)
Read William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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SIR ANDREW Excellent good, i’faith.
SIR TOBY Good, good.
FESTE
What is love? ’Tis not hereafter,
Present mirth hath present laughter.
What’s to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.
Present mirth hath present laughter.
What’s to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.
SIR ANDREW A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
SIR TOBY A contagious breath.
SIR ANDREW Very sweet and contagious, i’faith.
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 An you love me, let’s do’t. I am dog at a catch.
FESTE By’r Lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
SIR ANDREW Most certain. Let our catch be ‘Thou knave’.
FESTE ‘Hold thy peace, thou knave’, knight. I shall be 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’.
FESTE I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
SIR ANDREW Good, i’faith. Come, begin.
They sing the catch.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 Cathayan, we are politicians, Malvolio’s a Peg-o‘-Ramsey, and ‘hree merry men be we’. Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally—‘lady’! ‘There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.’
FESTE Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable fooling.
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.
SIR TOBY
‘O’the twelfth day of December’—
MARIA For the love o’ God, peace.
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 alehouse of my lady’s house, that ye squeak out your coziers’ catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no 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 can separate yourself and your misdemeanours you are welcome to the house. If not, an it would please you to take leave of her she is very willing to bid you farewell.
SIR TOBY
‘Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.’
MARIA Nay, good Sir Toby.
FESTE
‘His eyes do show his days are almost done.’
MALVOLIO Is’t even so?
SIR TOBY
‘But I will never die.’
FESTE
‘Sir Toby, there you lie.’
MALVOLIO This is much credit to you.
SIR TOBY
‘Shall I bid him go?’
FESTE
‘What an if you do?’
SIR TOBY
‘Shall I bid him go, and spare not?’
FESTE
‘O no, no, no, no, you dare not.’
SIR TOBY Out o’ tune, sir, ye lie. (To Malvolio) Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?
FESTE Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i’th’ mouth, too.
SIR TOBY Thou‘rt i’th’ right. (To
Malvolio
) Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. (To Maria) A stoup of wine, Maria.
Malvolio
) Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. (To Maria) A stoup of wine, Maria.
MALVOLIO Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favour at anything more than contempt you would 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 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 tonight. Since the youth of the Count’s was today with my lady she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him. If I do 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.
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 reason, dear knight.
SIR ANDREW I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough.
MARIA The dev’l a puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass that cons state without book and utters it by great swathes; 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.
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 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.
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 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 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
Exit
SIR TOBY Good night, Penthesilea.
SIR ANDREW Before me, she’s a good wench.
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.
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 will.
SIR TOBY Come, come, I’ll go burn some sack, ’tis too late to go to bed now. Come knight, come knight.
Exeunt
2.4Exeunt
Enter the Duke, Viola as Cesario, 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
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse.
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
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?
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
(To Viola) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
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 beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
Music plays
(To Viola) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
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 beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
VIOLA
It gives a very echo to the seat
Where love is throned.
Where love is throned.
ORSINO
Thou dost speak masterly.
My life upon’t, young though thou art thine eye
Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves.
Hath it not, boy?
My life upon’t, young though thou art thine eye
Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves.
Hath it not, boy?
VIOLA
A little, by your favour.
ORSINO
What kind of woman is’t?
VIOLA
Of your complexion.
ORSINO
She is not worth thee then. What years, i’faith?
VIOLA About your years, my lord.
ORSINO
Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself. So wears she to him;
So sways she level in her husband’s heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women’s are.
An elder than herself. So wears she to him;
So sways she level in her husband’s heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women’s are.
VIOLA
I think it well, my lord.
ORSINO
Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
VIOLA
And so they are. Alas that they are so:
To die even when they to perfection grow.
To die even when they to perfection grow.
Enter Curio and Feste the clown
ORSINO (
to Feste
)
to Feste
)
O fellow, come, the song we had last night.
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain.
The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread with
bones,
Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain.
The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread with
bones,
Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
FESTE Are you ready, sir?
ORSINO I prithee, sing.
Music
FESTE (
sings
)
sings
)
Come away, come away death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fie away, fie away breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it.
My part of death no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strewn.
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me O where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there.
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Fie away, fie away breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it.
My part of death no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strewn.
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me O where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there.
DUKE (
giving money
) There’s for thy pains.
giving money
) There’s for thy pains.
FESTE No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.
ORSINO I’ll pay thy pleasure then.
FESTE Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
ORSINO Give me now leave to leave thee.
FESTE Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Exit
Exit
ORSINO
Let all the rest give place:
Exeunt Curio and others
Get thee to yon same sovereign cruelty.
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands.
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her
Tell her I hold as giddily as fortune;
But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
Exeunt Curio and others
Once more, Cesario,
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands.
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her
Tell her I hold as giddily as fortune;
But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
VIOLA
But if she cannot love you, sir?
ORSINO
I cannot be so answered.
VIOLA Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her.
You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her.
You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
ORSINO
There is no woman’s sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart; no woman’s heart
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt.
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart; no woman’s heart
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt.
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
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