Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare
Act 1 - Scene 5
OLIVIA’S house.
Maria : Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will
[p]not open my
lips so wide as a bristle may enter in
[p]way of thy excuse: my lady
will hang thee for thy absence.
Feste : Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
[p]world needs to fear
no colours.
Maria : Make that good.
Feste : He shall see none to fear.
Maria : A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that
[p]saying was born,
of 'I fear no colours.'
Feste : Where, good Mistress Mary?
Maria : In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
Feste : Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those
[p]that are fools,
let them use their talents.
Maria : Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or,
[p]to be turned
away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?
Feste : Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and,
[p]for turning away,
let summer bear it out.
Maria : You are resolute, then?
Feste : Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points.
Maria : That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both
[p]break, your
gaskins fall.
Feste : Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if
[p]Sir Toby would
leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
[p]piece of Eve's flesh as any in
Illyria.
Maria : Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my
[p]lady: make your
excuse wisely, you were best.
Feste : Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling!
[p]Those wits, that
think they have thee, do very oft
[p]prove fools; and I, that am sure
I lack thee, may
[p]pass for a wise man: for what says
Quinapalus?
[p]'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'
[p][Enter
OLIVIA with MALVOLIO]
[p]God bless thee, lady!
Olivia : Take the fool away.
Feste : Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
Olivia : Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you:
[p]besides, you grow
dishonest.
Feste : Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
[p]will amend: for
give the dry fool drink, then is
[p]the fool not dry: bid the
dishonest man mend
[p]himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest;
if
[p]he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
[p]that's mended
is but patched: virtue that
[p]transgresses is but patched with sin;
and sin that
[p]amends is but patched with virtue. If that
this
[p]simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
[p]what
remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
[p]calamity, so beauty's a
flower. The lady bade take
[p]away the fool; therefore, I say again,
take her away.
Olivia : Sir, I bade them take away you.
Feste : Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non
[p]facit
monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not
[p]motley in my brain.
Good madonna, give me leave to
[p]prove you a fool.
Olivia : Can you do it?
Feste : Dexterously, good madonna.
Olivia : Make your proof.
Feste : I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse
[p]of virtue,
answer me.
Olivia : Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.
Feste : Good madonna, why mournest thou?
Olivia : Good fool, for my brother's death.
Feste : I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
Olivia : I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
Feste : The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's
[p]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:
[p]infirmity,
that decays the wise, doth ever make the
[p]better fool.
Feste : God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the
[p]better increasing
your folly! Sir Toby will be
[p]sworn that I am no fox; but he will
not pass his
[p]word for two pence that you are no fool.
Olivia : How say you to that, Malvolio?
Malvolio : I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a
[p]barren rascal: I saw
him put down the other day
[p]with an ordinary fool that has no more
brain
[p]than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard
[p]already;
unless you laugh and minister occasion to
[p]him, he is gagged. I
protest, I take these wise men,
[p]that crow so at these set kind of
fools, no better
[p]than the fools' zanies.
Olivia : Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste
[p]with a
distempered appetite. To be generous,
[p]guiltless and of free
disposition, is to take those
[p]things for bird-bolts that you deem
cannon-bullets:
[p]there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he
do
[p]nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
[p]man,
though he do nothing but reprove.
Feste : Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou
[p]speakest well of
fools!
Maria : Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much
[p]desires to speak
with you.
Olivia : From the Count Orsino, is it?
Maria : I know not, madam: 'tis 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
[p]madman: fie on
him!
[p][Exit MARIA]
[p]Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the
count, I
[p]am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss
it.
[p][Exit MALVOLIO]
[p]Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows
old, and
[p]people dislike it.
Feste : Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest
[p]son should be a
fool; whose skull Jove cram with
[p]brains! for,--here he comes,--one
of thy kin has a
[p]most weak pia mater.
Olivia : By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
Sir Toby Belch : A gentleman.
Olivia : A gentleman! what gentleman?
Sir Toby Belch : 'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these
[p]pickle-herring! How now,
sot!
Feste : Good Sir Toby!
Olivia : Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
Sir Toby Belch : Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.
Olivia : Ay, marry, what is he?
Sir Toby Belch : Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
[p]me faith, say I.
Well, it's all one.
Olivia : What's a drunken man like, fool?
Feste : Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one
[p]draught above heat
makes him a fool; the second mads
[p]him; and a third drowns him.
Olivia : Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my
[p]coz; for he's
in the third degree of drink, he's
[p]drowned: go, look after him.
Feste : He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look
[p]to the madman.
Malvolio : Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
[p]you. I told him
you were sick; he takes on him to
[p]understand so much, and therefore
comes to speak
[p]with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems
to
[p]have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
[p]comes to
speak with you. What is to be said to him,
[p]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
[p]door like a
sheriff's post, and be the supporter to
[p]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 old enough for a man, nor young enough for
[p]a boy; as a
squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
[p]cooling when 'tis almost an
apple: 'tis with him
[p]in standing water, between boy and man. He is
very
[p]well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one
[p]would
think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
Olivia : Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
Malvolio : Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
Olivia : Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
[p]We'll once more hear
Orsino's embassy.
Viola : The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
Olivia : Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
[p]Your will?
Viola : Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,--I
[p]pray you, tell
me if this be the lady of the house,
[p]for I never saw her: I would
be loath to cast away
[p]my speech, for besides that it is excellently
well
[p]penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
[p]beauties,
let me sustain no scorn; I am very
[p]comptible, even to the least
sinister usage.
Olivia : Whence came you, sir?
Viola : I can say little more than I have studied, and that
[p]question's out
of my part. Good gentle one, give me
[p]modest assurance if you be the
lady of the house,
[p]that I may proceed in my speech.
Olivia : Are you a comedian?
Viola : No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs
[p]of malice I
swear, I am not that I play. Are you
[p]the lady of the house?
Olivia : If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Viola : Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
[p]yourself; for what is
yours to bestow is not yours
[p]to reserve. But this is from my
commission: I will
[p]on with my speech in your praise, and then show
you
[p]the heart of my message.
Olivia : Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.
Viola : Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
Olivia : It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you,
[p]keep it in. I heard
you were saucy at my gates,
[p]and allowed your approach rather to
wonder at you
[p]than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone;
if
[p]you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of
[p]moon with me
to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
Maria : Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.
Viola : No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little
[p]longer. Some
mollification for your giant, sweet
[p]lady. Tell me your mind: I am a
messenger.
Olivia : Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when
[p]the courtesy of
it is so fearful. Speak your office.
Viola : It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
[p]war, no taxation
of homage: I hold the olive in my
[p]hand; my words are as fun of
peace as matter.
Olivia : Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?
Viola : The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I
[p]learned from my
entertainment. What I am, and what I
[p]would, are as secret as
maidenhead; to your ears,
[p]divinity, to any other's, profanation.
Olivia : Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.
[p][Exeunt MARIA
and Attendants]
[p]Now, sir, what is your text?
Viola : Most sweet lady,--
Olivia : A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.
[p]Where lies your
text?
Viola : In Orsino's bosom.
Olivia : In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?
Viola : To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
Olivia : O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
Viola : Good madam, let me see your face.
Olivia : Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate
[p]with my face?
You are now out of your text: but
[p]we will draw the curtain and show
you the picture.
[p]Look you, sir, such a one I was this present:
is't
[p]not well done?
Viola : Excellently done, if God did all.
Olivia : 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
Viola : 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
[p]Nature's own sweet and
cunning hand laid on:
[p]Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
[p]If
you will lead these graces to the grave
[p]And leave the world no
copy.
Olivia : O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give
[p]out divers
schedules of my beauty: it shall be
[p]inventoried, and every particle
and utensil
[p]labelled to my will: as, item, two lips,
[p]indifferent
red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to
[p]them; item, one neck, one
chin, and so forth. Were
[p]you sent hither to praise me?
Viola : I see you what you are, you are too proud;
[p]But, if you were the
devil, you are fair.
[p]My lord and master loves you: O, such
love
[p]Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd
[p]The
nonpareil of beauty!
Olivia : How does he love me?
Viola : With adorations, fertile tears,
[p]With groans that thunder love, with
sighs of fire.
Olivia : Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him:
[p]Yet I suppose him
virtuous, know him noble,
[p]Of great estate, of fresh and stainless
youth;
[p]In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant;
[p]And
in dimension and the shape of nature
[p]A gracious person: but yet I
cannot love him;
[p]He might have took his answer long ago.
Viola : If I did love you in my master's flame,
[p]With such a suffering, such
a deadly life,
[p]In your denial I would find no sense;
[p]I would not
understand it.
Olivia : Why, what would you?
Viola : Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
[p]And call upon my soul within
the house;
[p]Write loyal cantons of contemned love
[p]And sing them
loud even in the dead of night;
[p]Halloo your name to the reverberate
hills
[p]And make the babbling gossip of the air
[p]Cry out 'Olivia!'
O, You should not rest
[p]Between the elements of air and
earth,
[p]But you should pity me!
Olivia : You might do much.
[p]What is your parentage?
Viola : Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
[p]I am a gentleman.
Olivia : Get you to your lord;
[p]I cannot love him: let him send no
more;
[p]Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
[p]To tell me how he
takes it. Fare you well:
[p]I thank you for your pains: spend this for
me.
Viola : I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
[p]My master, not myself,
lacks recompense.
[p]Love make his heart of flint that you shall
love;
[p]And let your fervor, like my master's, be
[p]Placed in
contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty.
Olivia : 'What is your parentage?'
[p]'Above my fortunes, yet my state is
well:
[p]I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
[p]Thy tongue, thy
face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
[p]Do give thee five-fold blazon:
not too fast:
[p]soft, soft!
[p]Unless the master were the man. How
now!
[p]Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
[p]Methinks I feel
this youth's perfections
[p]With an invisible and subtle stealth
[p]To
creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
[p]What ho, Malvolio!
Malvolio : Here, madam, at your service.
Olivia : Run after that same peevish messenger,
[p]The county's man: he left
this ring behind him,
[p]Would I or not: tell him I'll none of
it.
[p]Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
[p]Nor hold him up
with hopes; I am not for him:
[p]If that the youth will come this way
to-morrow,
[p]I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio.
Malvolio : Madam, I will.
Olivia : I do I know not what, and fear to find
[p]Mine eye too great a
flatterer for my mind.
[p]Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not
owe;
[p]What is decreed must be, and be this so.
Previous: Act 1 - Scene 4
Next: Act 2 - Scene 1
