Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare
Act 3 - Scene 1
OLIVIA’s garden.
Viola : Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
[p]thy tabour?
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
[p]I do live at my
house, and my house doth stand by
[p]the church.
Viola : So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a
[p]beggar dwell
near him; or, the church stands by thy
[p]tabour, if thy tabour stand
by the church.
Feste : You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is
[p]but a cheveril
glove to a good wit: how quickly the
[p]wrong side may be turned
outward!
Viola : Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with
[p]words may quickly
make them wanton.
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
[p]word might make
my sister wanton. But indeed words
[p]are very rascals since bonds
disgraced them.
Viola : Thy reason, man?
Feste : Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and
[p]words are grown
so false, I am loath to prove
[p]reason with them.
Viola : I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.
Feste : Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my
[p]conscience, sir, I
do not care for you: if that be
[p]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
[p]will keep no
fool, sir, till she be married; and
[p]fools are as like husbands as
pilchards are to
[p]herrings; the husband's the bigger: I am indeed
not
[p]her fool, but her corrupter of words.
Viola : I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.
Feste : Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun,
[p]it shines every
where. I would be sorry, sir, but
[p]the fool should be as oft with
your master as with
[p]my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.
Viola : Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
[p]Hold, there's
expenses for thee.
Feste : Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!
Viola : By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick
for
[p]one;
[p][Aside]
[p]though I would not have it grow on my chin.
Is thy
[p]lady within?
Feste : Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Viola : Yes, being kept together and put to use.
Feste : I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring
[p]a Cressida to
this Troilus.
Viola : I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.
Feste : The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but
[p]a beggar:
Cressida was a beggar. My lady is
[p]within, sir. I will construe to
them whence you
[p]come; who you are and what you would are out of
my
[p]welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn.
Viola : This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
[p]And to do that well
craves a kind of wit:
[p]He must observe their mood on whom he
jests,
[p]The quality of persons, and the time,
[p]And, like the
haggard, cheque at every feather
[p]That comes before his eye. This is
a practise
[p]As full of labour as a wise man's art
[p]For folly that
he wisely shows is fit;
[p]But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint
their wit.
Sir Toby Belch : Save you, gentleman.
Viola : And you, sir.
Sir Andrew Aguecheek : Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Viola : Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
Sir Andrew Aguecheek : I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
Sir Toby Belch : Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous
[p]you should
enter, if your trade be to her.
Viola : I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
[p]list of my
voyage.
Sir Toby Belch : Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.
Viola : My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
[p]understand what you
mean by bidding me taste my legs.
Sir Toby Belch : I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
Viola : I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we
[p]are
prevented.
[p][Enter OLIVIA and MARIA]
[p]Most excellent accomplished
lady, the heavens rain
[p]odours on you!
Sir Andrew Aguecheek : That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well.
Viola : My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant
[p]and vouchsafed
ear.
Sir Andrew Aguecheek : 'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em
[p]all three all
ready.
Olivia : Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
[p][Exeunt
SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA]
[p]Give me your hand, sir.
Viola : My duty, madam, and most humble service.
Olivia : What is your name?
Viola : Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
Olivia : My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world
[p]Since lowly feigning was
call'd compliment:
[p]You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
Viola : And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
[p]Your servant's
servant is your servant, madam.
Olivia : For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
[p]Would they were
blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
Viola : Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
[p]On his behalf.
Olivia : O, by your leave, I pray you,
[p]I bade you never speak again of
him:
[p]But, would you undertake another suit,
[p]I had rather hear
you to solicit that
[p]Than music from the spheres.
Viola : Dear lady,--
Olivia : Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
[p]After the last enchantment
you did here,
[p]A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
[p]Myself, my
servant and, I fear me, you:
[p]Under your hard construction must I
sit,To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
[p]Which you knew
none of yours: what might you think?
[p]Have you not set mine honour
at the stake
[p]And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
[p]That
tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
[p]Enough is
shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
[p]Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you
speak.
Viola : I pity you.
Olivia : That's a degree to love.
Viola : No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
[p]That very oft we pity
enemies.
Olivia : Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.
[p]O, world, how apt the
poor are to be proud!
[p]If one should be a prey, how much the
better
[p]To fall before the lion than the wolf!
[p][Clock
strikes]
[p]The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
[p]Be not
afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
[p]And yet, when wit and
youth is come to harvest,
[p]Your were is alike to reap a proper
man:
[p]There lies your way, due west.
Viola : Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
[p]Attend your
ladyship!
[p]You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Olivia : Stay:
[p]I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.
Viola : That you do think you are not what you are.
Olivia : If I think so, I think the same of you.
Viola : Then think you right: I am not what I am.
Olivia : I would you were as I would have you be!
Viola : Would it be better, madam, than I am?
[p]I wish it might, for now I am
your fool.
Olivia : O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
[p]In the contempt and anger
of his lip!
[p]A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
[p]Than
love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
[p]Cesario, by the
roses of the spring,
[p]By maidhood, honour, truth and every
thing,
[p]I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
[p]Nor wit nor
reason can my passion hide.
[p]Do not extort thy reasons from this
clause,
[p]For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause,
[p]But rather
reason thus with reason fetter,
[p]Love sought is good, but given
unsought better.
Viola : By innocence I swear, and by my youth
[p]I have one heart, one bosom
and one truth,
[p]And that no woman has; nor never none
[p]Shall
mistress be of it, save I alone.
[p]And so adieu, good madam: never
more
[p]Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Olivia : Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move
[p]That heart, which now
abhors, to like his love.
Previous: Act 2 - Scene 5
Next: Act 3 - Scene 2
