Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare

Act 4 - Scene 2

OLIVIA’s house.

Maria : Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; [p]make him believe
thou art Sir Topas the curate: do [p]it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby
the whilst.

Feste : Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself [p]in't; and I would
I were the first that ever [p]dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall
enough to [p]become the function well, nor lean enough to
be [p]thought a good student; but to be said an honest man [p]and a
good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a [p]careful man and a great
scholar. The competitors enter.

Sir Toby Belch : Jove bless thee, master Parson.

Feste : Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of [p]Prague, that never
saw pen and ink, very wittily [p]said to a niece of King Gorboduc,
'That that is is;' [p]so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson;
for, [p]what is 'that' but 'that,' and 'is' but 'is'?

Sir Toby Belch : To him, Sir Topas.

Feste : What, ho, I say! peace in this prison!

Sir Toby Belch : The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

Malvolio : [Within] Who calls there?

Feste : Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio [p]the lunatic.

Malvolio : Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

Feste : Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man! [p]talkest thou
nothing but of ladies?

Sir Toby Belch : Well said, Master Parson.

Malvolio : Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir [p]Topas, do not think
I am mad: they have laid me [p]here in hideous darkness.

Feste : Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most [p]modest terms;
for I am one of those gentle ones [p]that will use the devil himself
with courtesy: [p]sayest thou that house is dark?

Malvolio : As hell, Sir Topas.

Feste : Why it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, [p]and the
clearstores toward the south north are as [p]lustrous as ebony; and
yet complainest thou of [p]obstruction?

Malvolio : I am not mad, Sir Topas: I say to you, this house is dark.

Feste : Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness [p]but ignorance; in
which thou art more puzzled than [p]the Egyptians in their fog.

Malvolio : I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though [p]ignorance were as
dark as hell; and I say, there [p]was never man thus abused. I am no
more mad than you [p]are: make the trial of it in any constant
question.

Feste : What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?

Malvolio : That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

Feste : What thinkest thou of his opinion?

Malvolio : I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.

Feste : Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness: [p]thou shalt hold the
opinion of Pythagoras ere I will [p]allow of thy wits, and fear to
kill a woodcock, lest [p]thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare
thee well.

Malvolio : Sir Topas, Sir Topas!

Sir Toby Belch : My most exquisite Sir Topas!

Feste : Nay, I am for all waters.

Maria : Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and [p]gown: he sees
thee not.

Sir Toby Belch : To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how [p]thou findest him:
I would we were well rid of this [p]knavery. If he may be conveniently
delivered, I [p]would he were, for I am now so far in offence
with [p]my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this [p]sport to
the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber.

Feste : [Singing] [p]'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, [p]Tell me how thy lady does.'

Malvolio : Fool!

Feste : 'My lady is unkind, perdy.'

Malvolio : Fool!

Feste : 'Alas, why is she so?'

Malvolio : Fool, I say!

Feste : 'She loves another'--Who calls, ha?

Malvolio : Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my [p]hand, help me to a
candle, and pen, ink and paper: [p]as I am a gentleman, I will live to
be thankful to [p]thee for't.

Feste : Master Malvolio?

Malvolio : Ay, good fool.

Feste : Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?

Malvolio : Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused: I [p]am as well in
my wits, fool, as thou art.

Feste : But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no [p]better in your
wits than a fool.

Malvolio : They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, [p]send ministers
to me, asses, and do all they can to [p]face me out of my wits.

Feste : Advise you what you say; the minister is here. [p]Malvolio, Malvolio,
thy wits the heavens restore! [p]endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave
thy vain [p]bibble babble.

Malvolio : Sir Topas!

Feste : Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I, [p]sir? not I, sir.
God be wi' you, good Sir Topas. [p]Merry, amen. I will, sir, I will.

Malvolio : Fool, fool, fool, I say!

Feste : Alas, sir, be patient. What say you sir? I am [p]shent for speaking to
you.

Malvolio : Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: I [p]tell thee, I am
as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.

Feste : Well-a-day that you were, sir

Malvolio : By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper and [p]light; and
convey what I will set down to my lady: [p]it shall advantage thee
more than ever the bearing [p]of letter did.

Feste : I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you [p]not mad indeed? or
do you but counterfeit?

Malvolio : Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.

Feste : Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his [p]brains. I will
fetch you light and paper and ink.

Malvolio : Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I [p]prithee, be gone.

Feste : [Singing] [p]I am gone, sir, [p]And anon, sir, [p]I'll be with you
again, [p]In a trice, [p]Like to the old Vice, [p]Your need to
sustain; [p]Who, with dagger of lath, [p]In his rage and his
wrath, [p]Cries, ah, ha! to the devil: [p]Like a mad lad, [p]Pare thy
nails, dad; [p]Adieu, good man devil.

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