« VorigeDoorgaan »
Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll Vio. I am a messenger. stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful.
Speak your office. Oli. What kind of man is he?
Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no Mal. Why, of man kind.
overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold Oh. What manner of man?
the olive in my hand : my words are as full of Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with peace as matter. you, will you, or no.
Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? what would you? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor
Vio. The rudeness, that hath appeard in me, young enough for a boy; as a squash is before have I learn'd from my entertainment. What 'tis a pease-cod, or a codling when 'tis almost I am, and what I would, are as secret as an apple: 'tis with him e'en standing water, maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any between boy and man. He is very well-favour- other's, profanation. ed, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him. this divinity. (Exit Maria.) Now, Sir, what Oli. Let him approach : Call in my gentle- is your text ?
Vio. Most sweet lady,Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may
be said of it. Where lies your text? Re-enter MARIA.
Vio. In Orsino's bosom. Oli. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his my face;
bosom? We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first Enter V10LA.
of his heart.
Oli. 0, I have read it; it is heresy. Have Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
you no more to say?
Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her.
Oli. Have you any commissson from your Your will ?
lord to negociate with my face? you are now Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the out of your text: but we will draw the curtain,
and show you the picture. Look you, Sir, such lady of the house, for I never saw her : I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides a one as I was this present :* l'st not well done? that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken
Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible,* even
Oli. 'Tis in grain, Sir; 'twill endure wind
and weather, to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came your, Sir?
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent,+ whose red and
white Vio. I can say little more than I have studi, Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : ed, and that question's out of my part. Good Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you If you will lead these graces to the grave, be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in And leave the world no copy. my speech.
Oli. O, Sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I Oli. Are you a comedian? Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the It shall be inventoried; and every particle, and
will give out divers schedules of my beauty : very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I
utensil, labelled to my will: as, item, two lips play. Are you the lady of the house?
indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth.
Were you sent hither to 'praise me? usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is
Vio. I see you what you are: you are too not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
proud; praise, and then show you the heart of my My lord and master loves you; 0, such love message. Oli. Come to what is important in't: I for- Could be but recompens’d, though you were
The nonpareil of beauty! (crown'd give you the praise.
Oli. How does he love me? Vio. Alas, i took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, Oli. It is the more likely to be feigned ; 1 With groans that thunder love, with sighs of
fire. pray you, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy
Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot at my gates; and allowed your approach, ra
love him : ther to wonder, at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, In voices well divulg'd,f free, learn'd, and vato make one in so skipping a dialogue.
liant, Mar. Will you hoist sail, Sir? here lies your And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, way.
Vio. No, good swabber: I am to hull here A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him; a little longer.-Some molification for
He might have took his answer long ago. giant,t sweet lady.
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. Tell me your mind.
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
I would not understand it. 1 It appears from several parts of this play that the ori
† Blender, mixed together. gual actress of Maria was very short.
1 Well spoken of by the world.
Oli. Why, what would you?
so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, not extort from me what I am willing to keep And call upon my soul within the house ; , in; therefore it charges me in manners the raWrite loyal cantons* of contemned love, ther to express* myself. You must know of And sing them loud even in the dead of night; me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which Holla your name to the reverberatet hills, I called Rodorigo; my father was that SebasAnd make the babbling gossip of the air tian of Messaline, whom, I know, you have Cry out, Olivia! 0, you should not rest heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a Between the elements of air and earth, sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens But you should pity me.
had been pleased, 'would we had so ended! but, Oli. You might do much : What is your you, Sir, altered that; for, some hour before parentage?
you took me from the breach of the sea, was Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: my sister drowned. I am a gentleman.
Ant. Alas, the day? Oli. Get you to your lord;
Seb. A lady, Sir, though it was said she much I cannot love him : let him send no more; resembled me, was yet of many accounted Unless, perchance, you come to me again, beautiful : but, though I could not, with such To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus I thank you for your pains : spend this for me. far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind Vio. I am no fee'd post. † lady; keep your that envy could not but call fair: she is purse;
drowned already, Sir, with salt water, though My master, not myself, lacks recompense. I seem to drown her remembrance again with Love make his heart of fiint, that you shall more. love;
Ant. Pardon me, Sir, your bad entertainAnd let your fervour, like my master's, be ment. Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trou
[Exit.ble. Oli. What is your parentage?
Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: let me be your servant. I am a gentleman. I'll be sworn thou art; Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and that is, kill him whom you have recovered, despirit,
sire it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom Do give thee five-fold blazon: -Not too fast :-- is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the soft! soft!
manners of my mother, that upon the least ocUnless the master were the man.-How now? casion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I Even so quickly may one catch the plague? am bound to the count Orsino's court: fareMethinks, I feel this youth's perfections, well.
(Exit. With an invisible and subtle stealth,
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
thee ! What, ho, Malvolio!
I have many enemies in Orsino's courts.
Else would I very shortly see thee there;
But come what may, I do adore thee so, Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.
E.cit. The county's|| man: he left this ring behind him
SCENE II.-A Street.
Enter V10LA ; Malvolio following.
Mal. Were not you even now with the If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, countess Olivia ? I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace I Mal. Madam, I will.
[Erit. have since arrived but hither. Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find
Mal. She returns this ring to you, Sir ; you Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. might have saved me my pains, to have taken Fate, show thy force: Ourselves we do not it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you owe;
should put your lord into a desperate assurance What is decreed, must be; and be this so! she will none of him : And one thing more;
[Exit. that you be never so hardy to come again in ACT II.
his affairs: unless it be to report your lord's
taking of this. Receive it so. SCENE I.-The Sea-coast.
Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.
Mal. Come, Sir, you peevishly threw it to Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you her; and her will is, it should be so returned: not, that I go with you?
if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Erit. darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate
Vio. I left no ring with her : What means might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I this lady?
[her! shall crave of you your leave, that I may bear Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd" my evils alone: It were a bad recompense for She made good view of me; indeed, so much, your love to lay any of them on you.
That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you
tongue, are bound.
For she did speak in starts distractedly. Seb. No, 'sooth, Sir; my determinate voyage She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you Invites me in this churlish meseenger.
None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. * Cantos, verses. † Echoing. Messenger Proclamation of gentility.
I am the man ;--If it be so, (as 'tis,) l Count. Own, possess.
Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Sir To. Good, good.
Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter ; Wherein the pregnant* enemy does much. Present mirth hath present laughter; How easy is it, for the proper-falset
What's to come, is still unsure : In women's waxen hearts to set their forms !
In delay there lies no plenty ; Alas, our frailty is the cause not we;
Then come kiss me sweet-and-twenty, For, such as we are made of, such we be.
Youth's a stuff will not endure. How will this fadge? I My master loves her
Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true dearly; And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
Sir To. A contageous breath.
Sir And. Very sweet and contageous, i' faith.
Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in My state is desperate for my master's love;
contagion. But shall we make the welkin As I am woman, now alas the day! What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe? in a catch, that will draw three souls out of
dance* indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl O time, thou must untangle this, not I; It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [Exit.
one weaver ? shall we do that?
Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am SCENE III-A Room in Olivia's House.
dog at a catch. Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir ANDREW
Clo. By’r lady, Sir, and some dogs will catch AGUE-CHEEK.
well. Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew : not to be Sir And. Most certain:let our catch be, Thou a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and knave. diluculo surgere, thou know'st,
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not : shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knaye, but I know, to be up late, is to be up late. knight.
Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an Sir And. Tis not the first time I have conunfilled can: To be up after midnight, and to strain’d one to call me knave. Begin, fool ; it go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed begins, Hold thy peace. after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. not our lives consist of the four elements ? Sir And. Good, i' faith! Come, begin. Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think,
[They sing a caich. it rather consists of eating and drinking.
Enter Maria. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep eat and drink.-Marian, I say ! -a stoop of here! If my lady have not called up her stewwine !
ard, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of Enter Clown.
doors, never trust me. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith.
Sir To. My lady's a Cataian,t we are poliClo. How now, my hearts ? Did you never ticians ; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and see the picture of we three
Three merry men we be. Am not I consanguiSir To. Welcome,ass. Now let's have a catch.neous? am I not of her blood ? Tilly-valley,
Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excel- lady! There duelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady! lent breast. I had rather than forty shillings
(Singing. had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in fooling. very gracious fooling last night, when thou Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be spokest of Pigrogromitus of the Vapians pass- disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a beting the equinoctial of Queubus ; 'twas very ter grace, but I do it more natural. good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy le
Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December, man :1 Hadst it?
[Singing Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity ;** for Mal
Mar. For the love of God, peace. volio's nose is no whipstock : My lady has a
Enter MALVOLIO. white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle
Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are ale houses.
you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, Sir And. Excellent; Why, this is the best but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.
Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you: that ye squeak out your coziers|| catches withlet's have a song.
out any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? knight give aCio. Would you have a love-song, or a song es.
Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our catch
Sneck up!1 of good life?
Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.
My lady bade me tell you, that, though she Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing alSONG.
lied to your disorders. If you can separate Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming? yourself and your misdemeanors, you are wel
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, come to the house; if not, an it would please
That can sing both high and low : you to take leave of her, she is very willing to Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
bid you farewell. Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must necds Every wise man's son doth know. Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith!
Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby,
* Driuk till the sky turns round. | Romancer. * Dexterous, ready fiend. Fair deceiver. Suit. Name of an old song. Loggerheads be. || Voice.
Equivalent to filly j'ally, shilly skally. I did irpefticoat thy grataity.
Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done. Sir And. And your horse now would make Mal. Is't even so?
him an ass. Sir To. But I will never die.
Mar. Ass I doubt not. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.
Sir And. 0, 'twill be admirable. Mal. This is much credit to you.
Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, Sir To. Shall I bid him go.? [Singing. my physic will work with him. I will plant Clo. What an If you do?
you two, and let the fool make a third, where Sir To. Shall I bid him
he shall find the letter; observe his construcClo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.
tion of it. For this night, to bed, and dream Sir To. Out o'time? Sir, ye lie.--Art any on the event. Farewell.
(Erit. more than a steward? Dost thou think, be- Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea.* calise thou art virtuous, there shall be no more Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. cakes and ale ?
Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall that adores me; What o' that? be hot i'the mouth too.
Sir And. I was adored once too. Sir To. Thou’rt i'the right.-Go, Sir, rub Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.-Thou hadst your chain* with crums :-A stoop of wine, need send for more money. Maria!
Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's a foul way out. favour at any thing more than contempt, you Sir To. Send for money, knight ; ifthou hast would not give means for this uncivil rule ;t her not i' the end, call me Cut.t she shall know of it, by this hand.
Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it Mar. Go shake your ears.
how you will. Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the 'tis too late to go to bed now : come knight ; field; and then to break promise with him, and come, knight.
(Ereunt. make a fool of him.
SCENE IV.-A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Sir To. Do't knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by
Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others.
Duke. Give me some music :-Now, good word of mouth. Mar. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
morrow, friends :since the youth of the count's was to-day with that old and antique song we heard last night; my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him : if I do Methought it did relieve
my passion much; not gull him into a nay-word, I and make him More than light airs and recollected terms, a common recreation, do not think I have wit of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :
Come but one verse. enough to lie straight in my bed: I know, I
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, can do it. Sir To. Possess us, possess us ; tell us
that should sing it.
Duke. Who was it? something of him. Mar. Marry, Sir, sometimes he is a kind of
Cur. Festo, the jester, my lord; a fool, that Puritan.
the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him he is about the house. like a dog.
Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy ex- Come hither, boy ; Ifever thou shalt love,
[Exit Curio.--Music. quisite reason, dear knight? Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for’t but For, such as I am, all true lovers are ;
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: I have reason good enough. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any Save in the constant image of the creature
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, thing constantly but a time pleaser; an affectioned|| ass, that cons state without book, and That is belov'd.—How dost thou like this tune ? utters it by great swarths :1 the best persuaded Where love is thron'd.
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellences, that it is his ground of faith, that
Duke. Thou dost speak masterly:
[eye all, that look on him, love him ; and on that My life upon't, young though thou art, thine vice in him will my revenge find notable cause
Hath stay'd upon some favourf that it loves ;
Hath it not, boy? to work. Sir To. What wilt thou do?
Vio. A little, by your favour.
Duke. What kind of woman is't? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his
Vio. Of your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee then. What beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and
years, i' faith? complexion, he shall find himself most feeling
Vio. About your years, my lord; ly personated: I can write very like my lady
Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hard. An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
Woman take ly make distinction of our hands. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device.
So sways she level in her husband's heart. Sir And. I have't in my nose too.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece,
Than woman's are. and that she is in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that
Vio, I think it well, my lord. colour.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than * Stewards anciently wore a chain. Method of life. Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
thyself, Bye-word. Inform us. || Affected. T The row of grass left by a mower.
* Amazon. † Horse. Countenance.
For women are as roses; whose fair flower, That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt; Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
Vio. And so they are : alas, that they are so; And can digest as much: make no compare To die, even when they to perfection grow! Between that love a woman can bear me, Re-enter Curio, and Clown.
And that I owe Olivia. Druke. O fellow, come, the song we had last
Vio. Ay, but I know,
Duke. What dost thou know? night :
Vio. Too well what love women to men Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain:
may The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids, that weave their thread In faith, they are as true of heart as we. with bones,*
My father had a daughter lov'd a man, Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, And dallies with the innocence of love,
I should your lordship. Like the old age.
Duke. And what's her history? Clo. Are you ready, Sir?
Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her Duke. Ay; pr’ythee, sing.
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Song.
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin’d in Clo. Come away, come away, death,
thought ; And in sad cypress let me be laid;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy, Fly away, fly away, breath ;
She sat like Patience on a monument, I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed : My shroud of white, stuck all with yow,
We men may say more, swear more: but, in0, prepare it ;
[prove My part of death no one so true
Our shows are more than will; for still we Did share it.
Much in our vows, but little in our love. Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? On my black coffin let there be strown ; Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's Not a friend not a friend greet
[not :My poor corpse,where my bones shall be thrown: And all the brothers too ;—and yet I know A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Sir, shall I to this lady?
Duke. Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, To weep there.
My love can give no place, bide no denay.* Duke. There's for thy pains.
[Exeunt. Clo. No pains, Sir ; I take pleasure in sing- SCENE V.-OLIVIA's Garden. ing, Sir.
Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir ANDREW AGUE Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. Clo. Truly, Sir, and pleasure will be paid,
CHEEK, and FABIAN. one time or another.
Sir To. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.
Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; this sport, let me be boiled to death with meand the tailor make thy doublet of changeable lancholy. taffata, for thy mind is a very opal. “I would Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have have men of such constancy put to sea, that the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by their business might be every thing, and their some notable shame? mtent every where ; for that's it, that always Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he makes a good voyage of nothing.–Farewell. brought me out of favour with my lady, about
(Exit Clown. a bear-baiting here. Duke. 'Let all the rest give place.
Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear Exeunt Curio and Attendants. again ; and we will fool him black and blue :Once more, Cesario,
Shall we not, Sir Andrew ?
Sir To. Here comes the little villain :-Ilow Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
now, my nettle of India ? But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree : That nature pranks|| her in, attracts my soul.
Malvoliu's coming down this walk; he has Vio. But, if she cannot love you, Sir ?
been yonder i' the sun, practising behaviour to Duke. I cannot be so answered,
his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, Vio. 'Sooth, but you must.
for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letSay, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
ter will make a contemplative ideot of him. Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her; themselves.] Lie thou there ; (throws down a You tell her so; Must she not then be answer'a? letter,] for here comes the trout that must be Duke. There is no woman's sides,
caught with tickling.
[Exil Maria, Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
Enter MALVOLIO. As love doth give my heart : no woman's heart
Mal. "Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria So big, to hold so much ; they lack retention.
once told me; she did affect me: and I have Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
heard herself come thus near, that, should she No motion of the liver, but the palate,
fancy,t it should be one of my complexion. *Lace makers.
| Simplo truth. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted reT'imes of simplicity. A precious stone of all colours || Decks.