Twelfe Night — Act 1 Scene 5

Enter Maria, and Clowne.

Ma.Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I willnot open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in wayof thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Clo.Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in thisworld, needs to feare no colours.

Ma.Make that good.

Clo.He shall see none to feare.

Ma.A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where ysaying was borne, of I feare no colours.

Clo.Where good mistris Mary?

Ma.In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say inyour foolerie.

Clo.Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: &those that are fooles, let them vse their talents.

Ma.Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent, or tobe turn'd away: is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo.Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage:and for turning away, let summer beare it out.

Ma.You are resolute then?

Clo.Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points

Ma.That if one breake, the other will hold: or if bothbreake, your gaskins fall.

Clo.Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, ifsir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a pieceof Eues flesh, as any in Illyria.

Ma.Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes myLady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.

Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.

Clo.Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling:those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft prouefooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for awise man. For what saies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole,then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady.

Ol.Take the foole away.

Clo.Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie.

Ol.Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you:besides you grow dis-honest.

Clo.Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsellwil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foolenot dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend,he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botchermend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertuthat transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin thatamends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this simpleSillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, what remedy?As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beautiesa flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore Isay againe, take her away.

Ol.Sir, I bad them take away you.

Clo.Misprision in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullusnon facit monachum: that's as much to say, as I weare notmotley in my braine: good Madona, giue mee leaue toproue you a foole.

Ol.Can you do it?

Clo.Dexteriously, good Madona.

Ol.Make your proofe.

Clo.I must catechize you for it Madona, Good myMouse of vertue answer mee.

Ol.Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your proofe.

Clo.Good Madona, why mournst thou?

Ol.Good foole, for my brothers death.

Clo.I thinke his soule is in hell, Madona.

Ol.I know his soule is in heauen, foole.

Clo.The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your Brotherssoule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole, Gentlemen.

Ol.What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he not mend?

Mal.Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shakehim: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make thebetter foole.

Clow.God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for thebetter increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn thatI am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pencethat you are no Foole.

Ol.How say you to that Maluolio?

Mal.I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in sucha barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, withan ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone.Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles youlaugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protestI take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde offooles, no better then the fooles Zanies.

Ol.O you are sicke of selfe-loue Maluolio, and tastewith a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse,and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts,that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slanderin an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle;nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee donothing but reproue.

Clo.Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thouspeak'st well of fooles.

Enter Maria.

Mar.Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman,much desires to speake with you.

Ol.From the Count Orsino, is it?

MaI know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, andwell attended.

Ol.Who of my people hold him in delay?

Ma.Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman.

Ol.Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing butmadman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a suitfrom the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What youExit Maluo.will, to dismisse it.Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & peopledislike it.

Clo.Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldestsonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme withbraines, for heere he comes.Enter Sir Toby.One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater.

Ol.By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the gate Cosin?

To.A Gentleman.

Ol.A Gentleman? What Gentleman?

To.'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickleherring: How now Sot.

Clo.Good Sir Toby.

Ol.Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely bythis Lethargie?

To.Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the gate

Ol.I marry, what is he?

To.Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: giueExitme faith say I. Well, it's all one.

Ol.What's a drunken man like, foole?

Clo.Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man:One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the secondmaddes him, and a third drownes him.

Ol.Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitteo'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee'sdrown'd: go looke after him.

Clo.He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shalllooke to the madman.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal.Madam, yond young fellow sweares hee willspeake with you. I told him you were sicke, he takes onhim to vnderstand so much, and therefore comes to speakwith you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to hauea fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes tospeake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee'sfortified against any deniall.

Ol.Tell him, he shall not speake with me.

Mal.Ha's beene told so: and hee sayes hee'l stand atyour doore like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter toa bench, but hee'l speake with you.

Ol.What kinde o'man is he?

Mal.Why of mankinde.

Ol.What manner of man?

Mal.Of verie ill manner: hee'l speake with you, willyou, or no.

Ol.Of what personage, and yeeres is he?

Mal.Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enoughfor a boy: as a squash is before tis a pescod, or a Codlingwhen tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standingwater, betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd,and he speakes verie shrewishly: One would thinke hismothers milke were scarse out of him.

Ol.Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman.

Mal.ExitGentlewoman, my Lady calles.

Enter Maria.

Ol.Giue me my vaile: come throw it ore my face,Wee'l once more heare Orsinos Embassie.

Enter Violenta.

Vio.The honorable Ladie of the house, which is she?

Ol.Speake to me, I shall answer for her: your will.

Vio.Most radiant, exquisite, and vnmatchable beautie.I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house,for I neuer saw her. I would bee loath to cast away myspeech: for besides that it is excellently well pend, I hauetaken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let meesustaine no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the leastsinister vsage.

Ol.Whence came you sir?

Vio.I can say little more then I haue studied, & thatquestion's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue meemodest assurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, thatmay proceede in my speech.

Ol.Are you a Comedian?

Vio.No my profound heart: and yet (by the veriephangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are youthe Ladie of the house?

Ol.If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am.

Vio.Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp yourselfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours toreserue. But this is from my Commission: I will on withmy speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart ofmy message.

Ol.Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you the praise.

Vio.Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis Poeticall.

Ol.It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keepit in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd yourapproach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. Ifyou be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe:'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in soskipping a dialogue.

Ma.Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way.

Vio.No good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer.Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie;tell me your minde, I am a messenger.

Ol.Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer,when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office.

Vio.It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouertureof warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffein my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter.

Ol.Yet you began rudely. What are you?What would you?

Vio.The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue Ilearn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what Iwould, are as secret as maiden-head: to your eares,Diuinity; to any others, prophanation.

Ol.Giue vs the place alone,We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?

Vio.Most sweet Ladie.

Ol.A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saideof it. Where lies your Text?

Vio.In Orsinoes bosome.

Ol.In his bosome? In what chapter of his bosome?

Vio.To answer by the method, in the first of his hart.

Ol.O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more to say?

Vio.Good Madam, let me see your face.

Ol.Haue you any Commission from your Lord, tonegotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text:but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture. Lookeyou sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well done?

Vio.Excellently done, if God did all.

Ol.'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and weather.

Vio.Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white,Natures owne sweet, and cunning hand laid on:Lady, you are the cruell'st shee aliue,If you will leade these graces to the graue,And leaue the world no copie.

Ol.O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will giueout diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoriedand euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my will: As,Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes,with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth.Were you sent hither to praise me?

Vio.I see you what you are, you are too proud:But if you were the diuell, you are faire:My Lord, and master loues you: O such loueCould be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'dThe non-pareil of beautie.

Ol.How does he loue me?

Vio.With adorations, fertill teares,With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire.

Ol.Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue himYet I suppose him vertuous, know him noble,Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth;In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,And in dimension, and the shape of nature,A gracious person; But yet I cannot loue him:He might haue tooke his answer long ago.

Vio.If I did loue you in my masters flame,With such a suffring, such a deadly life:In your deniall, I would finde no sence,I would not vnderstand it.

Ol.Why, what would you?

Vio.Make me a willow Cabine at your gate,And call vpon my soule within the house,Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue,And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night:Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles,And make the babling Gossip of the aire,Cry out Oliuia: O you should not restBetweene the elements of ayre, and earth,But you should pittie me.

Ol.You might do much:What is your Parentage?

Vio.Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well:I am a Gentleman

Ol.Get you to your Lord:I cannot loue him: let him send no more,Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe,To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee.

Vio.I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse,My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence.Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue,And let your feruour like my masters be,ExitPlac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.

Ol.What is your Parentage?Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well;I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art,Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit,Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft,Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now?Euen so quickly may one catch the plague?Me thinkes I feele this youths perfectionsWith an inuisible, and subtle stealthTo creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.What hoa, Maluolio.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal.Heere Madam, at your seruice

Ol.Run after that same peeuish MessengerThe Countes man: he left this Ring behinde himWould I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it.Desire him not to flatter with his Lord,Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him:If that the youth will come this way to morrow,Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee Maluolio.

Mal.Exit.Madam, I will.

Ol.I do I know not what, and feare to findeMine eye too great a flatterer for my minde:Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe,What is decreed, must be: and be this so.Finis, Actus primus.