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 SHAKESPEARE'S 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
 
 EDITED FOR USE IN SECONDARY 
 SCHOOLS BY 
 
 EDGAR COIT MORRIS, A.M 
 
 SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY 
 
 Non sans droict 
 
 SILVER, BURDETT AND COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 
 
^fS^.- 
 
 ■J*»w iWT Mrniiin>ini . 
 
 Twelfth Day 
 
 NOTE 
 
 The coat of arms on the title page was granted to 
 Shakespeare in 1599. The illustrations used in the text 
 are reproductions of wood-cuts from Knight's Pictorial 
 Shakespeare, Hone's Every Day Book, and Douce's 
 Illustrations of Shakespeare.- 
 
 MAR -9 1914 
 
 Copyright, IQ14, by 
 Silver, Burdett & Company 
 
 ©CI.A362813 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THIS edition of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night is prepared 
 for use in secondary schools prior to the fourth year. 
 For this reason expurgated passages and variant readings 
 are not recorded. Except for slight changes, the text is that 
 of the Cambridge edition. The punctuation has been some- 
 what modernized, especially to avoid an excessive use of the 
 colon ; and the e in -ed and -est in verse has been uniformly 
 omitted where not pronounced, but retained in prose unless 
 it was obviously omitted in pronunciation. 
 
 The Introduction aims to present only such matter as 
 should be given to the class before they read the play. 
 Obviously much that is there briefly phrased can be ex- 
 panded advantageously by the teacher ; but all biographical 
 matter and literary criticism are purposely omitted. If the 
 teacher wishes to use them, the best way is to send the 
 pupils to complete biographies and volumes of criticism 
 after the play has been studied in class, unless a little bio- 
 graphical matter be here reviewed orally. The life of a 
 writer, however, and critical estimates of his work lose all 
 vital interest when garbled as they must be for condensa- 
 tion into the space available in an Introduction. 
 
 The Notes are intended for use in connection with the 
 careful rereading of the play after it has been read through 
 once in class merely for the story. The first reading will 
 gain in interest, if the parts are assigned to the pupils ; and 
 
4 PREFACE 
 
 it may well be done in four or five recitation periods at 
 most. The second reading, for a better appreciation of the 
 play as well as for a clearer understanding of the text, 
 together with the reading of the illustrative matter sug- 
 gested in the Notes, may well occupy ten or fifteen periods. 
 After the Notes will be found a few general topics for 
 written exercises. The specific form of these topics should 
 in all cases be determined by the teacher to avoid stereo- 
 typed results from year to year. Some of the topics, it will 
 be seen, are not strictly a part of the study of literature, but 
 are inserted for the use of the pupils in their composition 
 classes, which will be running parallel with the reading of 
 the play. For very generally admitted reasons, it is not 
 desirable to assign purely literary topics for practice in com- 
 position; although in large classes many exercises may be 
 written during the literature period in order to cover more 
 ground than is possible in oral recitation. On the other 
 hand, the pupils may well be shown that the literature they 
 are reading is a vast storehouse of fact and suggestion upon 
 which they can draw when they find it difficult to select 
 topics suitable for use in the composition courses. There 
 is a distinct difference between using literature merely as a 
 means of teaching composition, and using it as an aid to 
 composition. Needless to say, the latter is by far the better 
 
 method. 
 
 E. C. M. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Twelfth Night, or What You Will, is one of the most 
 generally interesting of Shakespeare's comedies. It con- 
 tains an attractive love romance side by side with a charm- 
 ing comedy full of keen wit and sparkling humor. The 
 whole is put together into a well-woven plot of delicate 
 romance and highly farcical situations. These strongly 
 contrasted elements are presented in excellent action, both 
 in the individual scenes and in the plot as a whole. When 
 well played, therefore, it becomes one of the most effective 
 romantic comedies Shakespeare ever wrote. 
 
 The name was doubtless intended to suggest that the 
 play was suitable for performance on Twelfth Night by 
 being filled with the spirit of the festivities of that time. 
 The night of January sixth is so called because it is the 
 twelfth night after Christmas ; and it takes on part of its 
 joyous form because it is supposed to be the date of the 
 coming of the Magi to Bethlehem, or else of the appearance 
 of the Star in the East. Ecclesiastically then Twelfth 
 Night celebrates the announcement of Christ to the Gen- 
 tiles. In Shakespeare's time the day was given over to 
 elaborately grotesque festivities among the common people, 
 and in the evening plays were frequently performed at 
 Court, especially during the reign of Elizabeth and of 
 Charles the First. ' 
 
6 INTRODUCTION 
 
 This play was probably written about 1601 or 1602 ; that 
 is, about five years after The Merchant of Venice, a year or 
 two after As You Like It and Henry the Fifth, and not long 
 before Julius Ccesar. It belongs in the middle and best 
 period of Shakespeare's career. 
 
 It should be kept in mind, while studying Twelfth Night, 
 that a play resembles any ordinary narrative in that it is 
 a fictitious presentation of people involved in some inter- 
 esting action. 
 
 A play on the other hand differs from an ordinary story 
 in three important essentials. It is limited to what can be 
 acted on a stage in at most three hours. It is limited in 
 situations and action to what can be represented on a 
 stage, and made intelligible to the audience by conversa- 
 tion and action of characters. Finally, the story as told 
 or acted by the characters may have the aid of stage 
 scenery or setting. 
 
 Although much longer plays are sometimes written, they 
 are usually so divided into parts that they may be given 
 in two or three successive performances, like the three parts 
 of King Henry the Sixth by Shakespeare. In the sixteenth 
 century as in our own time it was also the custom to use 
 brief printed explanations in the form of show bills, and in 
 some cases explanatory prologues were inserted to be spoken 
 by one of the actors at the beginning of one or more of the 
 acts. In Henry the Fifth prologues help to explain the re- 
 lation of the acts. But for the most part a play is limited 
 to two and a half or three hours, and must explain itself as 
 it goes. 
 
 On account of the difficulty of selecting a few situations 
 which can be arranged in an interesting order, and in which 
 the characters may tell or act all the story, it is not possible 
 to make every good story into a play. For instance, an 
 
INTRODUCTION 7 
 
 event that begins in one place and ends in another cannot 
 be presented in full, because the stage cannot move with 
 the action. Again, actions involving many people, like a 
 football game, a baseball game, an army in action, a rail- 
 road wreck, and the like, cannot be presented on the ordi- 
 nary stage. Although Shenandoah attempts to show a whole 
 army in retreat and Ben Hur to present a chariot race and 
 The College Widow to represent a football game by the nar- 
 rative of a person watching it, no one of these is really con- 
 vincing because of its incompleteness as compared to the 
 actual events. A play therefore must have an interesting 
 and convincing plot, which can be divided into a few scenes 
 able to be presented on the stage, and involving a rather 
 limited number of important actors. 
 
 A play has a distinct advantage over any other form of 
 story telling in that it can present all the people looking 
 and acting and talking as in real life. The drama there- 
 fore always has been and is now the most popular form of 
 literature; it appeals most directly to the people, moves 
 them deeply, and conforms most fully to local and timely 
 demands. 
 
 Lest some of the situations in Twelfth Night should seem 
 strange to modern readers, it is well to notice two pecul- 
 iarities, — the young woman in a man's clothes, and the 
 locking up of the madman in a dark cell. Now it is a well- 
 known fact that although a young man can masquerade 
 successfully in a young woman's clothes, a young woman 
 can hardly ever escape detection in a man's clothes. To 
 modern eyes, therefore, the disguise of Viola seems very 
 slight ; no one in the audience for a moment confuses her 
 and her brother. This confusion was very plausible in 
 Shakespeare's time, because all the women's parts were 
 then acted by boys. So when Viola put on ooy's clothes, 
 
8 INTRODUCTION 
 
 it was no more nor less than the boy-actor getting into his 
 natural garb. This fact is no doubt the reason why in 
 Elizabethan drama there is so frequent use of men's clothes 
 or boys' clothes to disguise a young woman. It was com- 
 plete disguise, and gave the boy greater naturalness of 
 action by placing him back in his accustomed clothes. Fur- 
 thermore a boy in a woman's part adopting a boy's clothes 
 is much less likely to seem immodest, especially as repre- 
 senting the charmingly simple girls of some of Shakespeare's 
 plays, like Viola in this play and like Portia in The Mer- 
 chant of Venice. 
 
 The treatment of madmen was also peculiar in Shake- 
 speare's time. Although to this day there still lingers a 
 pleasure in annoying a simple-minded person, there has 
 been a vast change in our treatment of the actually insane. 
 We no longer laugh at their antics, much less use them 
 actually for our amusement. But in the days when a 
 king's jester was preferably a real fool, and when madmen 
 were really kept bound with chains in dark cells or shut 
 away in prisons or lonely rooms in the house, it was quite 
 in accord with the general practice to use Malvolio as they 
 did. Malvolio is actually chained up in a dark room ; and 
 since his madness is assumed to have come on by the pos- 
 session of the devil, a priest is sent for to exorcise the evil 
 spirit, that is to drive out the devil in him. This whole 
 scene fits exactly with the beliefs and customs of the time. 
 
 In this, as in all of Shakespeare's plays, the poetry is to 
 be read carefully for the beautiful verse. Twelfth Night 
 has usually regular meter, the iambic pentameter, or five- 
 stress verse, with the stress on the even syllables, and is 
 commonly called blank verse. Besides the incomplete lines, 
 which are easily read, the most troublesome exceptions to 
 the usual line are; 
 
INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 (i) Words containing /, m, n, r, can easily expand the 
 liquid into an extra syllable at need, as 
 
 / / / / / 
 
 And lasting in her sad remembrance. — I, i, 32. 
 
 (2) Sometimes words in -Hon sound one more syllable 
 
 than in modern pronunciation, as 
 
 / / / / / 
 
 Her sweet perfections, — with one self king. — I, i, 39. 
 
 (3) A pause can sometimes take the place of an [unac- 
 cented syllable, as 
 
 / / / / / 
 
 The like of him. Knowest thou this country? — I, ii, 21. 
 
 (4) A trochee often stands at the beginning of a verse, as 
 Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. — I, ii, 61. 
 
 (5) An anapest may take the place of an iambic foot, as 
 Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect. — I, iv, 27. 
 
 (6) A final syllable in -ed is sometimes pronounced, as 
 
 / / / / / 
 
 But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk. — I, i, 28. 
 
 The following books should be found in every school 
 library to aid in the study of Shakespeare's plays : 
 
 A complete edition of the plays ; A Life of William Shake- 
 speare, by Sidney Lee (The Macmillan Co.) ; Shakespeare, 
 by Edward Dowden (" Literature Primers " — American 
 Book Co.) ; A Dictionary of Classical Mythology (Harper's 
 is the best) ; A Handbook of Legendary and Mythological 
 Art, by Clara E. Clement (Houghton, Mifflin Co.) ; The 
 New International Dictionary or The Century Dictionary. 
 (Critical estimates of the life and works of Shakespeare 
 
10 INTRODUCTION 
 
 are so numerous and of such various values, that to men- 
 tion one would require the naming of fifty; and no other 
 person would agree with the list offered.) 
 
 The principal advantage of this text over others is its 
 departure from the usual method in the matter of refer- 
 ences. Superior letters have been used with words that 
 need attention, either because of their peculiar meaning,' or 
 because of some allusion or reference that might escape the 
 attention of the pupils. 
 
 d refers to Webster's New International Dictionary. 
 
 * calls especial attention to the figurative language used. 
 
 m refers to a Dictionary of Classical Mythology. 
 
 n refers to the Notes at the back of the book. 
 
 In some cases a numeral is used after the letter d to 
 indicate which meaning of the word is referred to. Of 
 course the teacher will see to it that the pupils find the 
 same part of speech in the dictionary as is used in the text, 
 and especially in the case of verbs, that there is no confu- 
 sion between transitive and intransitive. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I. The Duke's palace. 
 Enter Duke, Curio, and other Lords ; Musicians attending. 
 
 Duke. If music be the food of love, play on ; 
 Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting , 
 
 The appetite may sicken, and so die. [Music. 
 
 That strain again ! It had a dying fall : 
 O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound N 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
 
 Stealing and giving odour ! [Music] Enough ; no more : 
 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. 
 O spirit of love ! How quick D and fresh art thou, 
 That, notwithstanding thy capacity 10 
 
 Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, 
 Of what validity and pitch soe'er, 
 But falls into abatement and low price, 
 Even in a minute : so full of shapes is fancy 6 
 That it alone is high fantastical. 
 
 Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ? 
 
 Duke. What, Curio ? 
 
 Cur. The hart. 
 
 Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have : 
 O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, 
 
 Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence ! 20 
 
 That instant was I turn'd into a hart ; 
 And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds N , 
 E'er since pursue me. 
 
 13 
 
14 TWELFTH NIGHT [act I 
 
 Enter Valentine. 
 
 How now ! what news from her ? 
 
 Vol. So please my lord, I might not be admitted ; 
 But from her handmaid do return this answer : 
 The element itself, till seven years' heat N , 
 Shall not behold her face at ample view ; 
 But, like a cloistress , she will veiled walk 
 And water once a day her chamber round 
 With eye-offending brine F : all this to season 30 
 
 A brother's dead love N , which she would keep fresh 
 And lasting in her sad remembrance. 
 
 Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame 
 To pay this debt of love but to a brother, 
 How will she love, when the rich golden shaft N 
 Hath kill'd the flock F of all affections else 
 That live in her ; when liver, brain and heart, 
 These sovereign thrones, are all suppli'd, and fill'd — 
 Her sweet perfections N , — with one self king ! 
 Away before me to sweet beds of flowers : 40 
 
 Love-thoughts lie rich when canopi'd with bowers. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. The sea-coast. 
 Enter Viola, a Captain, and Sailors. 
 
 Vio. What country, friends, is this ? 
 
 Cap. This is Illyria, lady. 
 
 Vio. And what should I do in Illyria ? 
 My brother he is in Elysium M . 
 Perchance he is not drown'd : what think you, sailors ? 
 
 Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were saved. 
 
 Vio. O my poor brother ! and so perchance may he be. 
 
scene n] TWELFTH NIGHT 15 
 
 Cap. True, madam : and, to comfort you with chance, 
 Assure yourself, after our ship did split, 
 When you and those poor number saved with you 10 
 
 Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, 
 Most provident in peril, bind himself, 
 Courage and hope both teaching him the practice, 
 To a strong mast that lived upon the sea ; 
 Where, like Arion M on the dolphin's back, 
 I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves 
 So long as I could see. 
 
 Vio. For saying so, there's gold: 
 Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, 
 Whereto thy speech serves for authority, 20 
 
 The like of him. Knowest thou this country ? 
 
 Cap. Ay, madam, well ; for I was bred and born 
 Not three hours' travel from this very place. 
 
 Vio. Who governs here ? 
 
 Cap. A noble duke, in nature as in name. 
 
 Vio. What is his name ? 
 
 Cap. Orsino. 
 
 Vio. Orsino ! I have heard my father name him : 
 He was a bachelor then. 
 
 Cap. And so is now, or was so very late ; 30 
 
 For but a month ago I went from hence, 
 And then 'twas fresh in murmur, — as, you know 
 What great ones do the less will prattle of, — 
 That he did seek the love' of fair Olivia. 
 
 Vio. What's N she ? 
 
 Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count 
 That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her 
 In the protection of his son, her brother, 
 Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, 
 They say, she hath abjur'd the company 40 
 
16 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 And sight of men. 
 
 Vio. that I serv'd that lady 
 
 And might not be deliver'd to the world, 
 Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, 
 What my estate is ! 
 
 Cap. That were hard to compass ; 
 
 Because she will admit no kind of suit, 
 No, not the Duke's. 
 
 Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain ; 
 And though that nature with a beauteous wall 
 Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 
 
 I will believe thou hast a mind that suits 50 
 
 With this thy fair and outward character. 
 I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, 
 Conceal me what I am, and be my aid 
 For such disguise as haply D shall become 
 The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke : 
 Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him : 
 It may be worth thy pains ; for I can sing 
 And speak to him in many sorts of music 
 That will allow me very worth his service. 
 What else may hap to time I will commit ; 60 
 
 Only shape thou thy silence to my wit D . 
 
 Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute N I'll be : 
 When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. 
 
 Vio. I thank thee : lead me on. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. Olivia's house. 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria. 
 
 Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death 
 of her brother thus ? I am sure care's an enemy to life. 
 Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier 
 
scene m] TWELFTH NIGHT 17 
 
 o' nights : your cousin , my lady, takes great exceptions to 
 your ill hours. 
 
 Sir To. Why, let her except, before excepted*. 
 
 Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest 
 limits of order N . 8 
 
 Sir To. Confine ! I'll confine myself no finer than I am : 
 these clothes are good enough to drink in ; and so be these 
 boots too: an D they be not, let them hang themselves in 
 their own straps. 
 
 Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I 
 heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and of a foolish knight 
 that you brought in one night here to be her wooer. 
 
 Sir To. Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek ? 
 
 Mar. Ay, he. 
 
 Sir To. He's as tail 02 a man as any 's in Illyria. 
 
 Mar. What's that to the purpose ? 
 
 Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. 20 
 
 Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats : 
 he's a very fool and a prodigal. 
 
 Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so ! he plays o' the viol-de- 
 gamboys N , and speaks three or four languages word for word 
 without book N , and hath all the good gifts of nature N . 
 
 Mar. He hath indeed, almost natural N : for besides that 
 he's a fool, he's a great quarreller ; and but that he hath the 
 gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 
 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the 
 gift of a grave. 30 
 
 Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and substrac- 
 tors that say so of him. Who are they ? 
 
 Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in 
 your company. 
 
 Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece : I'll drink 
 to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink 
 
18 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 in Illyria : he's a coward and a coistril D that will not drink 
 to my niece till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish-top. 
 What, wench ! Castiliano vulgo N ! for here comes Sir An- 
 drew Agueface. 40 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 
 
 Sir And. Sir Toby Belch ! how now, Sir Toby Belch ! 
 
 Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew ! 
 
 Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. 
 
 Mar. And you too, sir. 
 
 Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. 
 
 Sir And. What's that? 
 
 Sir To. My niece's chambermaid. 
 
 Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 Mar. My name is Mary, sir. 50 
 
 Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost, — 
 
 Sir To. You mistake, knight: "accost" is front her, 
 board her, woo her, assail her. 
 
 Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. 
 
 Sir To. An D thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou 
 mights t never draw sword again. 
 
 Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never 
 draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools 
 in hand ? 
 
 Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. 60 
 
 Sir And. Marry, but you shall have ; and here's my 
 hand. 
 
 Mar. Now sir, "thought is free :" I pray you, bring your 
 hand to the buttery-bar N and let it drink. 
 
 Sir And. Wherefore, sweet-heart ? what's your metaphor ? 
 
 Mar. It's dry, sir. 
 
scene in] TWELFTH NIGHT 19 
 
 Sir And. Why, I think so : I am not such an ass but I 
 can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest ? 
 
 Mar. A dry D3 jest, sir. 
 
 Sir And. Are you full of them ? 70 
 
 Mar. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends N : marry, 
 now I let go your hand, I am barren N . [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary D : when did I 
 see thee so put down ? 
 
 Sir And. Never in your life, I think ; unless you see 
 canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more 
 wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has : but I am a 
 great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit. 
 
 Sir To. No question. 79 
 
 Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride 
 home to-morrow, Sir Toby. 
 
 Sir To. Pourquoi N , my dear knight ? 
 
 Sir And. What is "pourquoi" ? do or not do ? I would 
 I had bestowed that time in the tongues N that I have in fenc- 
 ing, dancing and bear-baiting : O, had I but followed the 
 arts ! 
 
 Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair N . 
 
 Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair ? 
 
 Sir To. Past question ; for thou seest it will not curl by 
 nature ? 90 
 
 Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does 't not ? 
 
 Sir To. Excellent ; it hangs like flax upon a distaff. 
 
 Sir And. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby : your 
 niece will not be seen ; or if she be, it's four to one she'll 
 none of me : the count himself here hard by wooes her. 
 
 Sir To. She'll none o' th' count : she'll not match above 
 her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit ; I have heard 
 her swear 't. Tut, there's life in 't, man. 
 
 Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th 
 
20 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 strangest mind i' th' world ; I delight in masques and revels 
 sometimes altogether. 101 
 
 Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshawses D , knight ? 
 
 Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under 
 the degree of my betters ; and yet I will not compare with 
 an old D6 man. 
 
 Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard D , knight ? 
 
 Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper. 
 
 Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to 't N . 
 
 Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick D simply as 
 strong as any man in Illyria. no 
 
 Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid ? wherefore have 
 these gifts a curtain before 'em ? are they like to take dust, 
 like Mistress Mall's picture N ? why dost thou not go to church 
 in a galliard and come home in a coranto D ? My very walk 
 should be a jig. What dost thou mean ? Is it a world to 
 hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution 
 of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard N . 
 
 Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in 
 a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? 
 
 Sir To. What shall we do else ? were we not born under 
 Taurus N ? 121 
 
 Sir And. Taurus ! That's sides and heart. 
 
 Sir To. No, sir ; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee 
 caper : ha ! higher : ha, ha ! excellent ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. The Duke's palace. 
 Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. 
 
 Vol. If the Duke continue these favours towards you, 
 Cesario, you are like to be much advanced : he hath known 
 you but three days, and already you are no stranger. 
 
 Vio. You either fear his humour or my negligence, that 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT 21 
 
 you call in question 02 the continuance of his love. Is he 
 inconstant, sir, in his favours? 
 
 Vol. No, believe me. 
 
 Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. 
 
 Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. 
 
 Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ? 
 
 Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; here. 10 
 
 Duke. [To Attend.} Stand you a while aloof. — Cesario, 
 Thou know'st no less but all ; I have unclasp'd 
 To thee the book even of my secret soul : 
 Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her : 
 Be not denied access ; stand at her doors, 
 And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow 
 Till thou have audience. 
 
 Vio. Sure, my noble lord, 
 
 If she be so abandon 'd to her sorrow 
 As it is spoke, she never will admit me. 
 
 Duke. Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds 20 
 
 Rather than make unprofited return. 
 
 Vio. Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then ? 
 
 Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, 
 Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith : 
 It shall become thee well to act my woes ; 
 She will attend it better in thy youth 
 Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect. 
 
 Vio. I think not so, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Dear lad, believe it ; 
 
 For they shall yet belie thy happy years, 
 That say thou art a man : Diana's lip 30 
 
 Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe 
 Is as the maiden's organ, shrill in sound, 
 And all is semblative a woman's part N . 
 
22 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 I know thy constellation is right apt N 
 
 For this affair. Some four or five attend him ; 
 
 All, if you will ; for I myself am best 
 
 When least in company. Prosper well in this, 
 
 And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, 
 
 To call his fortunes thine. 
 
 Vio. I'll do my best 
 
 To woo your lady : [Aside] yet, a barful D strife ! 40 
 
 Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. Olivia's house. 
 Enter Maria and Clown. 
 
 Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I 
 will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way 
 of thy excuse : my lady will hang thee for thy absence. 
 
 Clo. Let her hang me : he that is well hanged in this world 
 needs to fear no colours. 
 
scene v] TWELFTH NIGHT 23 
 
 Mar. Make that good. 
 
 Clo. He shall see none to fear. 
 
 Mar. A good lenten D answer : I can tell thee where that 
 saying was born, of "I fear no colours." 
 
 Clo. Where, good Mistress Mary? 10 
 
 Mar. In the wars ; and that may you be bold to say in 
 your foolery. 
 
 Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it ; and those 
 that are fools, let them use their talents. 
 
 Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; 
 or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to 
 you? 
 
 Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage ; 
 and, for turning away, let summer bear it out N . 
 
 Mar. You are resolute, then ? 20 
 
 Clo. Not so, neither ; but I am resolved on two points N . 
 
 Mar. That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both 
 break, your gaskins fall. 
 
 Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; 
 if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece 
 of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria N . 
 
 Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my 
 lady : make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit. 
 
 Clo. Wit, an 't be thy will, put me into good fooling ! 
 Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove 
 fools ; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise 
 man: for what says Quinapalus N ? " Better a witty fool 
 than a foolish wit." 33 
 
 Enter Lady Olivia with Malvolio. 
 
 God bless thee, lady ! 
 Oli. Take the fool away. 
 Clo. Do you not hear, fellows ? Take away the lady. 
 
24 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 Oli. Go to, y' are a dry fool ; I'll no more of you : besides, 
 you grow dishonest. 38 
 
 Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel 
 will amend : for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not 
 dry : bid the dishonest man mend himself ; if he mend, he is 
 no longer dishonest ; if he cannot, let the botcher D mend 
 him. Any thing that's mended is but patched : virtue that 
 transgresses is but patched with sin ; and sin that amends is 
 but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism N 
 will serve, so ; if it will not, what remedy ? As there is no 
 true cuckold but calamity, so beauty 's a flower. The lady 
 bade take away the fool ; therefore, I say again, take her 
 away. 
 
 Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. 50 
 
 Clo. Misprision 02 in the highest degree ! Lady, cucullus 
 non facit monachum N ; that's as much to say as I wear not 
 motley in my brain. Good madonna , give me leave to 
 prove you a fool. 
 
 Oli. Can you do it ? 
 
 Clo. Dexteriously , good madonna. 
 
 Oli. Make your proof. 
 
 Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna; good my 
 mouse of virtue N , answer me. 59 
 
 Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your 
 proof. 
 
 Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou ? 
 
 Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. 
 
 Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. 
 
 Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. 
 
 Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's 
 soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen. 
 
 Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio ? doth he not 
 mend? 
 
scene v] TWELFTH NIGHT 25 
 
 Mai. Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him : 
 infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better 
 fool. 72 
 
 Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better 
 increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no 
 fox F ; but he will not pass his word for two pence that you 
 are no fool. 
 
 Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a 
 barren 05 ' 6 rascal : I saw him put down the other day with 
 an ordinary fool N that has no more brain than a stone. 
 Look you now, he's out of his guard already ; unless you 
 laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, 
 I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of 
 fools, no better than the fools' zanies D . 84 
 
 Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with 
 a distempered N appetite. To be generous, guiltless and of 
 free disposition, is 'to take those things for bird-bolts D that 
 you deem cannon-bullets : there is no slander in an allowed 
 fool, though he do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known 
 discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. 90 
 
 Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing N , for thou 
 speakest well of fools ! 
 
 Re-enter Maria. 
 
 Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman 
 much desires to speak with you. 
 
 Oli. From the Count Orsino, is it ? 
 
 Mar. I know not, madam : 'tis a fair young man, and well 
 attended. 
 
 Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ? 
 
 Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. 99 
 
 Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but 
 
26 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 madman N : fie on him ! [Exit Maria.] Go you, Malvolio : 
 if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; 
 what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio.} Now you see, 
 sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. 
 
 Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest 
 son should be a fool ; whose skull Jove cram with brains ! 
 for, — here he comes, — one of thy kin has a most weak 
 pia mater N . 
 
 Enter Sir. Toby. 
 
 Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, 
 cousin? no 
 
 Sir To. A gentleman. 
 
 Oli. A gentleman ! what gentleman ? 
 
 Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here — a plague o' these pickle- 
 herring ! How now, sot N ! 
 
 Clo. Good Sir Toby N ! 
 
 Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this 
 lethargy ? 
 
 Sir To. Lechery ! I defy 04 lechery. There's one at the 
 gate. 
 
 Oli. Ay, marry, what is he ? 1 20 
 
 Sir To. Let him be the Devil, an he will, I care not : 
 give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Exit. 
 
 Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ? 
 
 Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool and a madman: one 
 draught above heat N makes him a fool; the second mads 
 him ; and a third drowns him. 
 
 Oli. Go thou and seek the crowner N , and let him sit o' 
 my coz ; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drowned : 
 go, look after him. I2 9 
 
 Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall 
 look to the madman. [Exit. 
 
scene v] TWELFTH NIGHT 27 
 
 Re-enter Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak 
 with you. I told him you were sick ; he takes on him to 
 understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with 
 you. I told him you were asleep ; he seems to have a fore- 
 knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with 
 you. What is to be said to him, lady ? he's fortified against 
 any denial. 
 
 Oli. Tell him he shall not speak with me. 
 
 Mai. Has been told so ; and he says, he'll stand at your 
 door like a sheriff's post N , and be the supporter to a bench, 
 but he'll speak with you. 142 
 
 Oli. What kind o' man is he ? 
 
 Mai. Why, of mankind. 
 
 Oli. What manner of man ? 
 
 Mai. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you 
 or no. 
 
 Oli. Of what personage and years is he? 
 
 Mai. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough 
 for a boy ; as a squash D is before 'tis a peascod , or a codling 
 when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis with him in standing water, 
 between boy and man. He is very well-favoured and he 
 speaks very shrewishly ; one would think his mother's milk 
 were scarce out of him. 154 
 
 Oli. Let him approach : call in my gentlewoman. 
 
 Mai. Gentlewoman N , my lady calls. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Maria. 
 
 Oli. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my face. 
 We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. 
 
28 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 Enter Viola. 
 
 Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she ? 
 
 Oli. Speak to me ; I shall answer for her. Your will ? 160 
 
 Vio. Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty, 
 — I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I 
 never saw her : I would be loath to cast away my speech, 
 for besides that it is excellently well penned, I have taken 
 great pains to con D it. Good beauties, let me sustain no 
 scorn ; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage N . 
 
 Oli. Whence came you, sir ? 
 
 Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that 
 question 's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest 
 assurance N if you be the lady of the house, that I may pro- 
 ceed in my speech. 171 
 
 Oli. Are you a comedian ? 
 
 Vio. No, my profound heart : and yet, by the very fangs 
 of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady 
 of the house ? 
 
 Oli. If I do not usurp N myself, I am. 
 
 Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself 1 * ; 
 for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this 
 is from N my commission : I will on with my speech in your 
 praise, and then show you the heart of my message. 180 
 
 $- Oli. Come to what is important in 't ; I forgive you the 
 praise. 
 
 Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. 
 
 Oli. It is the more like to be feigned : I pray you, keep 
 it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed 
 your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. 
 If you be not mad, be gone ; if you have reason, be brief : 
 'tis not that time of moon N with me to make one in so skip- 
 ping a dialogue. 
 
SCENE V 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 29 
 
 Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way. 190 
 
 Vio. No, good swabber ; I am to hull here a little longer. 
 Some mollification for your giant N , sweet lady. Tell me 
 your mind : I am a messenger. 
 
 Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when 
 the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. 
 
 Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of 
 war, no taxation of homage N : I hold the olive in my hand ; 
 my words are as full of peace as matter. 
 
 Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you ? what would 
 you ? 200 
 
 Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned 
 from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are 
 as secret as maidenhood N ; to your ears, divinity, to any 
 other's profanation N . 
 
 Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear this divinity. 
 [Exit Maria.] Now, sir, what is your text ? 
 
 Vio. Most sweet lady, — 
 
 Oli. A comfortable doctrine , and much may be said of it. 
 Where lies your text ? 
 
 Vio. In Orsino's bosom. 210 
 
 Oli. In his bosom ! In what chapter of his bosom ? 
 
 Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. 
 
 Oli. O, I have read it : it is heresy. Have you no more to 
 say? 
 
 Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. 
 
 Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate 
 with my face ? You are now out of your text : but we will 
 draw the curtain and show you the picture. Look you, sir, 
 such a one I was this present N : is 't not well done ? 
 
 [Unveiling. 
 
 Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. 220 
 
 Oli. 'Tis in grain N , sir ; 'twill endure wind and weather. 
 
30 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white 
 Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on ; 
 Lady, you are the cruelFst she alive, 
 If you will lead these graces to the grave 
 And leave the world no copy. 
 
 Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I will give out 
 divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be inventoried, and 
 every particle and utensil labelled to my will : as, item D , 
 two lips, indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to 
 them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you 
 sent hither to praise me ? 232 
 
 Vio. I see you what you are, you are too proud ; 
 But, if you were the devil, you are fair N . 
 My lord and master loves you : O, such love 
 Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd 
 The nonpareil of beauty ! 
 
 Oli. How does he love me ? 
 
 Vio. With adorations, fertile tears, 
 With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. 
 
 Oli. Your lord does know my mind ; I cannot love him ; 
 Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, 241 
 
 Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; 
 In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd and valiant ; 
 And in dimension and the shape of nature N 
 A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him ; 
 He might have took his answer long ago. 
 
 Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, 
 With such a suffering, such a deadly life, 
 In your denial I would find no sense ; 
 I would not understand it. 
 
 Oli. Why, what would you? 250 
 
 Vio. Make me a willow cabin N at your gate, 
 And call upon my soul within the house ; 
 
SCENE V 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 31 
 
 Write loyal cantons 1 * of contemned love 
 And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; 
 Halloo your name to the reverberate hills 
 And make the babbling gossip of the air p 
 Cry out Olivia ! O, you should not rest 
 Between the elements of air and earth, 
 But you should pity me ! 
 
 Oli. You might do much. 
 
 What is your parentage ? 260 
 
 Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : 
 I am a gentleman. 
 
 Oli. Get you to your lord ; 
 
 I cannot love him : let him send no more ; 
 Unless, perchance, you come to me again, 
 To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well : 
 I thank you for your pains : spend this for me. 
 
 Vio. I am no feed post, lady ; keep your purse : 
 My master, not myself, lacks recompense. 
 Love make his heart of flint that you shall love ; 
 And let your fervour, like my master's, be 270 
 
 Plac'd in contempt ! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit. 
 
 Oli. " What is your parentage ? " 
 ' c Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : 
 I am a gentleman." I'll be sworn thou art ; 
 Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit, 
 Do give thee five-fold blazon 03 . Not too fast : soft, soft ! 
 Unless the master were the man N . How now ! 
 Even so quickly may one catch the plague N ? 
 Methinks I feel this youth's perfections 
 
 With an invisible and subtle stealth 280 
 
 To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. 
 What ho, Malvolio ! 
 
32 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 [act i 
 
 Re-enter Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. Here, madam, at your service. 
 
 Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, 
 The county's man : he left this ring behind him, 
 Would I or not ; tell him I'll none of it. 
 Desire him not to flatter with his lord, 
 Nor hold him up with hopes ; I am not for him. 
 If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, 
 I'll give him reasons for 't ; hie thee, Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. Madam, I will. 
 
 Oli. I do I know not what, and fear to find 
 Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind N . 
 Fate, show thy force : ourselves we do not owe D ; 
 What is decreed must be, and be this so N . 
 
 [Exit. 
 291 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SHERIFF S POSTS 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 33 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene I. The sea-coast. 
 
 Enter Antonio and Sebastian. 
 
 Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go 
 with you ? 
 
 Seb. By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over 
 me N : the malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper" 2 
 yours ; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may 
 bear my evils alone : it were a bad recompense for your 
 love, to lay any of them on you. 
 Ant. Let me yet know of you wither you are bound. 8 
 Seb. No, sooth D , sir : my determinate 3 voyage is mere 
 extra vagancy N . But I perceive in you so excellent a touch 
 of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am will- 
 ing to keep in ; therefore it charges me in manners the rather 
 to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, 
 my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My father 
 was that Sebastian of Messaline N , whom I know you have 
 heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born 
 in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased, would we had 
 so ended ! but you, sir, altered that ; for some hour before 
 you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned. 
 Ant. Alas the day ! 20 
 
 Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled 
 me, was yet of many accounted beautiful : but, though I 
 could not with such estimable wonder N overfar believe that, 
 yet thus far I will boldly publish her ; she bore a mind that 
 envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, 
 
34 TWELFTH NIGHT [act n 
 
 with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance 
 again with more. 
 
 Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment 1 *. 
 
 Seb. O good Antonio, forgive me your troubled 29 
 
 Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be 
 your servant. 
 
 Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, 
 kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. Fare ye 
 well at once : my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so 
 near the manners of my mother N , that upon the least occa- 
 sion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the 
 Count Orsino's court : farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! 
 I have many enemies in Orsino's court, 
 
 Else would I very shortly see thee there. 40 
 
 But, come what may, I do adore thee so, 
 That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. A street. 
 Enter Viola, Malvolio following. 
 
 Mai. Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia ? 
 
 Vio. Even now, sir ; on a moderate pace I have since 
 arrived but hither. 
 
 Mai. She returns this ring to you, sir : you might have 
 saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She 
 adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a des- 
 perate 1 * assurance she will none of him : and one thing more, 
 that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless 
 it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. 
 
 Vio. She took the ring of me : I'll none of it. 10 
 
 Mai. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her 
 
scene in] TWELFTH NIGHT 35 
 
 will is, it should be so returned. If it be worth stooping for, 
 there it lies in your eye : if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. 
 
 Vio. I left no ring with her : what means this lady ? 
 Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her ! 
 She made good view of me ; indeed, so much, 
 That sure me thought her eyes had lost her tongue N , 
 For she did speak in starts distractedly. 
 She loves me, sure ; the cunning of her passion 
 Invites me in this churlish messenger. 20 
 
 None of my lord's ring ! why, he sent her none. 
 I am the man : if it be so, as 'tis, 
 Poor lady, she were better love a dream. 
 Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, 
 Wherein the pregnant enemy N does much. 
 How easy is it for the proper 08 -false 
 In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! 
 Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we ! 
 For such as we are made of, such we be. 
 How will this fadge D ? my master loves her dearly ; 30 
 
 And I, poor monster, fond as much on him ; 
 And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. 
 What will become of this ? As I am man, 
 My state is desperate" for my master's love ; 
 As I am woman, — now alas the day ! — 
 What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ! 
 O time ! thou must untangle this, not I ; 
 It is too hard a knot for me to untie ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. Olivia's house. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew. 
 
 - Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew : not to be a-bed after 
 midnight is to be up betimes; and deliculo surgere N , thou 
 know'st — 
 
36 TWELFTH NIGHT [act ii 
 
 Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not : but I know, to 
 be up late is to be up late. 
 
 Sir To. A false conclusion : I hate it as an unfilled can D . 
 To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early; 
 so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. 
 Does not our life consist of the four elements 01 ? 9 
 
 Sir And. Faith, so they say ; but I think it rather consists 
 of eating and drinking. 
 
 Sir To. Thou 'rt a scholar ; let us therefore eat and drink. 
 Marian, I say ! a stoup of wine ! 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith. 
 
 Clo. How now, my hearts ! did you never see the picture 
 of "we three N "? 
 
 Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch 07 . 17 
 
 Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast 06 . 
 I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg. and so 
 sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast 
 in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of 
 Pigrogromitus, of the 'Vapians passing the equinoctial of 
 Queubus N : 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence 
 for thy leman N ; hadst it ? 
 
 Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity N ; for Malvolio's nose 
 is no whipstock : my lady has a white hand, and the Myr- 
 midons are no bottle-ale houses N . 
 
 Sir And. Excellent ! why, this is the best fooling, when 
 all is done. Now, a song. 29 
 
 Sir To. Come on ; there is sixpence for you : let's have 
 a song. 
 
 Sir And. There's a testril of me too : if one knight 
 give a — 
 
 Clo, Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life N ? 
 
scene in] TWELFTH NIGHT 37 
 
 Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. 
 
 Sir And. Ay, ay : I care not for good life. 
 
 Clo. [Sings.] 
 
 O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? 
 O, stay and hear ; your true love's coming, 
 
 That can sing both high and low : 
 Trip no further, pretty sweeting ; 40 
 
 Journeys end in lovers meeting, 
 
 Every wise man's son doth know. 
 
 Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith. 
 Sir To. Good, good. 
 Clo. [Sings.] 
 
 What is love ? 'tis not hereafter ; 
 Present mirth hath present laughter ; 
 
 What 's to come is still unsure : 
 In delay there lies no plenty ; 
 Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty N , 
 
 Youth 's a stuff will not endure. 50 
 
 Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. 
 
 Sir To. A contagious breath N . 
 
 Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. 
 
 Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. 
 But shall we make the welkin D dance indeed ? shall we rouse 
 the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one 
 weaver N ? shall we do that ? 
 
 Sir And. An D you love me, let's do 't : I am dog at a 
 catch. 
 
 Clo. By 'r lady N , sir, and some dogs will catch well. 60 
 
 Sir And. Most certain. Let our catch be, "Thou knave." 
 
 Clo. "Hold thy peace, thou knave N ," knight? I shall 
 be constrained in 't to call thee knave, knight. 
 
 Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one 
 to call me knave. Begin, fool : it begins, "Hold thy peace." 
 
38 TWELFTH NIGHT [act ii 
 
 Clo. I shall never begin if I hold my peace. 
 Sir And. Good, i' faith. Come, begin. 
 
 [They sing the catch. 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Mar. What a caterwauling do you keep here ! If my 
 lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him 
 turn you out of doors, never trust me. 70 
 
 Sir To. My lady 's a Cataian D , we are politicians 01 , 
 Malvolio 's a Peg-a-Ramsey N , and " Three merry men be 
 we." Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? 
 Tillyvally D , lady! [Sings.] "There dwelt a man in Baby- 
 lon, lady, lady !" 
 
 Clo. Beshrew 03 me, the knight 's in admirable fooling. 
 
 Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and 
 so do I too : he does it with a better grace, but I do it more 
 natural. 79 
 
 Sir To. [Sings.] "O, the twelfth day of December," — 
 
 Mar. For the love of God, peace ! 
 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. My masters, are you mad ? or what are you ? Have 
 you no wit Dl , manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like 
 tinkers N at this time of night ? Do ye make an alehouse of 
 my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' D catches 
 without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no 
 respect 06 of place, persons, nor time in you ? 
 
 Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck D 
 up ! 89 
 
 Mai. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady 
 bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her 
 kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can 
 separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are welcome 
 
scene in] TWELFTH NIGHT 39 
 
 to the house ; if not, an D it would please you to take leave of 
 her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. 
 
 62V To. [Singing always.] "Farewell, dear heart, since 
 I must needs be gone." 
 
 Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby. 
 
 Clo. [Singing always.} "His eyes do show his days are 
 almost done." 100 
 
 Mai. Is 't even so ? 
 
 Sir To. "But I will never die." 
 
 Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. 
 
 Mai. This is much credit to you. 
 
 Sir To. " Shall I bid him go ? " 
 
 Clo. "What an if you do?" 
 
 Sir To. "Shall I bid him go, and spare not ?" 
 
 Clo. "O no, no, no, no, you dare not." 
 
 Sir To. Out o' time, sir : ye lie. Art any more than a 
 steward ? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, 
 there shall be no more cakes and ale ? in 
 
 Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne N , and ginger shall be hot i' th' 
 mouth too. 
 
 Sir To. Thou 'rt i' th' right. Go, sir, rub your chain 
 with crumbs N . A stoup of wine, Maria ! 
 
 Mai. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at 
 any thing more than contempt, you would not give means 
 for this uncivil rule 04 : she shall know of it, by this hand. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Mar. Go shake your ears N . 119 
 
 Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's 
 a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break prom- 
 ise with him and make a fool of him. 
 
 Sir To. Do 't, knight : I'll write thee a challenge ; or I'll 
 deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. 
 
 Mar. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night : since the 
 
40 TWELFTH NIGHT [act n 
 
 youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much 
 out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with 
 him : if I do not gull him into a nayword D , and make him 
 a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie 
 straight in my bed N : I know I can do it. 130 
 
 Sir To. Possess us, possess us ; tell us something of him. 
 
 Mar. Marry D , sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan N . 
 
 Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog ! 
 
 Sir To. What, for being a puritan ? thy exquisite reason, 
 dear knight ? 
 
 Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for 't, but I have 
 reason good enough. 
 
 Mar. The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing con- 
 stantly, but a time-pleaser ; an affectioned D2 ass, that cons 
 state without book N and utters it by great swarths D : the 
 best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with 
 excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all that look 
 on him love him ; and on that vice in him will my revenge 
 find notable cause to work. 144 
 
 Sir To. What wilt thou do ? 
 
 Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of 
 love ; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his 
 leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, fore- 
 head, and complexion 04 , he shall find himself most feelingly 
 personated. I can write very like my lady your niece : on 
 a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our 
 hands. 152 
 
 Sir To. Excellent ! I smell a device. 
 
 Sir And. I have 't in my nose too. 
 
 Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt 
 drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love 
 with him. 
 
 Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT 41 
 
 Sir And. And your horse now would make him an ass. 
 
 Mar. Ass, I doubt not. 160 
 
 Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable ! 
 
 Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic 05 
 will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool 
 make a third, where he shall find the letter: observe his 
 construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the 
 event. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea M . 
 
 Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. 
 
 Sir To. She's a beagle D , true-bred, and one that adores 
 me: what o' that? 17° 
 
 Sir And. I was adored once too. 
 
 Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for 
 more money. 
 
 Sir And. If I cannot recover 08 your niece, I am a foul 
 way out. 
 
 Sir To. Send for money, knight : if thou hast her not i' 
 th' end, call me cut. 
 
 Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. 
 
 Sir To. Come, come, I'll go burn some sack N ; 'tis too 
 late to go to bed now : come, knight ; come, knight. 180 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene IV. The Duke's palace. 
 
 Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. 
 
 Duke. Give me some music. Now, good-morrow, friends. 
 Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, 
 That old and antique song we heard last night : 
 Methought it did relieve my passion much, 
 More than light airs and recollected terms 
 Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times : 
 Come, but one verse. 
 
42 TWELFTH NIGHT [act n 
 
 Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should 
 sing it. 
 
 Duke. Who was it ? 10 
 
 Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the Lady 
 Olivia's . father took much delight in. He is about the 
 house. 
 
 Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. 
 
 [Exit Curio. Music plays. 
 Come hither, boy : if ever thou shalt love, 
 In the sweet pangs of it remember me ; 
 For such as I am all true lovers are, 
 Unstaid and skittish in all motions 04 else, 
 Save in the constant image of the creature 
 That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune ? 20 
 
 Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat 
 Where Love is throned. 
 
 Duke. Thou dost speak masterly : 
 My life upon 't, young though thou art, thine eye 
 Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves : 
 Hath it not, boy ? 
 
 Vio. A little, by your favour N . 
 
 Duke. What kind of woman is 't ? 
 
 Vio. Of your complexion 04 . 
 
 Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith ? 
 
 Vio. About your years, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Too old, by heaven: let still the woman take 30 
 An elder than herself : so wears she to him, 
 So sways she level in her husband's heart : 
 For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
 Our fancies 06 are more giddy and unfirm, 
 More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 
 Than women's are. 
 
 Vio. I think it well, my lord. 
 
SCENE IV 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 43 
 
 Yto 
 
 
 SPINSTERS AND KNITTERS 
 
 Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, 
 Or thy affection cannot hold the bent ; 
 For women are as roses, whose fair flower 
 Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. 
 
 Vio. And so they are : alas, that they are so ; 
 To die, even when they to perfection grow ! 
 
 Re-enter Curio, with Clown. 
 
 Duke. O, fellow, come, the song we had last night. 
 Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain ; 
 The spinsters and the knitters in the sun 
 And the free maids that weave their thread with bones N 
 Do use to chant it : it is silly sooth N , 
 And dallies with the innocence of love, 
 Like the old age. 
 
 40 
 
44 TWELFTH NIGHT [act ii 
 
 Clo. Are you ready, sir ? 50 
 
 Duke. Ay ; prithee, sing. [Music. 
 
 Clo. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Come away, come away, death, 
 
 And in sad cypress 1 * let me be laid ; 
 Fly away, fly away, breath ; 
 
 I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
 My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 
 
 O, prepare it ! 
 My part of death, no one so true 
 Did share it. 
 
 Not a flower, not a flower sweet, 60 
 
 On my black coffin let there be strown ; 
 Not a friend, not a friend greet 
 
 My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : 
 A thousand thousand sighs to save, 
 
 Lay me, O, where 
 Sad true lover never find my grave, 
 To weep there ! 
 
 Duke. There's for thy pains. 
 
 Clo. No pains, sir ; I take pleasure in singing, sir. 
 
 Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. 70 
 
 Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid N , one time or 
 another. 
 
 Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. 
 
 Clo. Now, the melancholy god N protect thee; and the 
 tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind 
 is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put 
 to sea, that their business might be every thing and their 
 intent every where ; for that's it that always makes a good 
 voyage of nothing. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Duke. Let all the rest give place. 
 
 [Curio and Attendants retire. 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT 45 
 
 Once more, Cesario, 
 Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty : 81 
 
 Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, 
 Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ; 
 The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, 
 Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune N ; 
 But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems 
 That nature pranks her in attracts my soul. 
 
 Vio. But if she cannot love you, sir ? 
 
 Duke. I cannot be so answer'd. 
 
 Vio. Sooth, but you must. 
 
 Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, 90 
 
 Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
 As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her ; 
 You tell her so ; must she not then be answer'd ? 
 
 Duke. There is no woman's sides 
 Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 
 As love doth give my heart ; no woman's heart 
 So big, to hold so much ; they lack retention. 
 Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. 
 No motion of the liver N , but the palate, 
 That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt ; 100 
 
 But mine is all as hungry as the sea, 
 And can digest as much : make no compare 
 Between that love a woman can bear me 
 And that I owe Olivia. 
 
 Vio. Ay, but I know — 
 
 Duke What dost thou know ? 
 
 Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe : 
 In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
 My father had a daughter lov'd a man, 
 As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, 
 I should your lordship. 
 
46 TWELFTH NIGHT [act n 
 
 Duke. And what's her history ? no 
 
 Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, 
 
 But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, 
 
 Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought, 
 
 And with a green and yellow melancholy 
 
 She sat, like Patience on a monument, 
 
 Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed ? 
 
 We men may say more, swear more : but indeed 
 
 Our shows are more than will ; for still we prove 
 
 Much in our vows, but little in our love. 
 
 Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? 120 
 
 Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, 
 
 And all the brothers too : and yet I know not. 
 
 Sir, shall I to this lady ? 
 Duke. Ay, that's the theme. 
 
 To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say, 
 
 My love can give no place, bide no denay. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. Olivia's garden. 
 Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Come thy ways N , Signior Fabian. 
 
 Fab. Nay, I'll come : if I lose a scruple of this sport, let 
 me be boiled to death with melancholy. 
 
 Sir To. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly 
 rascally sheep-biter D come by some notable shame ? 
 
 Fab. I would exult, man : you know, he brought me out 
 o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting D here. 
 
 Sir To. To anger him we'll have the bear again ; and 
 we will fool him black and blue N : shall we not, Sir Andrew ? 
 
 Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 10 
 
 Sir To. Here comes the little villain, 
 
SCENE VI 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 47 
 
 bear baiting {Seventeenth Century) 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 How now, my metal of India N ! 
 
 Mar. Get ye all three into N the box-tree : Malvolio 's 
 coming down this walk. He has been yonder i' the sun 
 practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour. 
 Observe him, for the love of mockery ; for I know this letter 
 will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name 
 of jesting ! Lie thou there [throws down a letter] ; for here 
 comes the trout that must be caught with tickling N . [Exit. 
 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. 'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune. Maria once told 
 me she did affect me : and I have heard herself come thus 
 near, that, should she fancy 06 , it should be one of my com- 
 plexion 04 . Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect 
 
48 TWELFTH NIGHT [act n 
 
 A STONE-BOW 
 
 than any one else that follows her. What should I think 
 on 't? 25 
 
 Sir To. Here's an overweening rogue ! 
 
 Fab. O, peace ! Contemplation makes a rare turkey- 
 cock of him : how he jets D under his advanced N plumes ! 
 
 Sir And. 'Slight 1 *, I could so beat the rogue ! 
 
 Sir To. Peace, I say. 30 
 
 Mai. To be Count Malvolio ! 
 
 Sir To. Ah, rogue ! 
 
 Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. 
 
 Sir To. Peace, peace ! 
 
 Mai. There is example for 't; the lady of the Strachy 
 married the yeoman of the wardrobe N . 
 
 Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel N ! 
 
 Fab. O, peace ! now he's deeply in : look how imagination 
 blows him. 39 
 
 Mai. Having been three months married to her, sitting 
 in my state N , — 
 
 Sir To. O, for a stone-bow D , to hit him in the eye ! 
 
 Mai. Calling my officers about me, in my branched 
 velvet N gown ; having come from a day-bed N , where I have 
 left Olivia sleeping, — 
 
 Sir To. Fire and brimstone ! 
 
 Fab. O, peace, peace ! 
 
 Mai. And then to have the humour of state N ; and after 
 a demure travel of regard N , telling them I know my place 
 
scene v] TWELFTH NIGHT 49 
 
 A WATCH OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 
 
 as I would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman 
 Toby, — 51 
 
 Sir To. Bolts and shackles ! 
 
 Fab. O, peace, peace, peace ! now, now. 
 
 Mai. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make 
 out for him : I frown the while ; and perchance wind up my 
 watch, or play with my — some rich jewel N . Toby ap- 
 proaches ; courtesies there to me, — 
 
 Sir To. Shall this fellow live ? 
 
 Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars N , 
 yet peace. 60 
 
 Mai. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my 
 familiar smile with an austere regard of control, — 
 
 Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips 
 then? 
 
 Mai. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me 
 on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech, — 
 
 Sir To. What, what ? 
 
 Mai. You must amend your drunkenness. 
 
 Sir To. Out, scab ! 69 
 
 Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. 
 
 Mai. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a 
 foolish knight — 
 
 Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. 
 
 Mai. One Sir Andrew, — 
 
50 TWELFTH NIGHT [act n 
 
 Sir And. I knew 'twas I ; for many do call me fool. 
 
 Mai. What employment have we here ? 
 
 [Taking up the letter. 
 
 Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin N . 
 
 Sir To. O, peace ! and the spirit of humours 04 intimate 
 reading aloud to him ! 79 
 
 Mai. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her 
 very C's, her U's and her T's ; and thus makes she her 
 great P's. It is, in contempt of question N , her hand. 
 
 Sir And. Her C's, her U's and her T's : why that ? 
 
 Mai. [Reads.] "To the unknown beloved, this, and my 
 good wishes N :" — her very phrases ! By your leave, wax N . 
 Soft N ! and the impressure her Lucrece M , with which she 
 uses to seal : 'tis my lady. To whom should this be ? 
 
 Fab. This wins him, liver N and all. 
 
 Mai. [Reads.] 
 
 Jove knows I love : 
 
 But who ? 90 
 
 Lips, do not move ; 
 No man must know. 
 
 "No man must know." What follows! the numbers 016 
 altered! "No man must know!" if this should be thee, 
 Malvolio ? 
 
 Sir To. Marry D , hang thee, brock D ! 
 
 Mai. [Reads.] 
 
 I may command where I adore ; 
 
 But silence, like a LucreceM knife, 
 With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore ; 
 
 M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. IOO 
 
 Fab. A fustian D riddle ! 
 Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. 
 
 Mai. "M, O, A, I, doth sway my life." Nay, but first, 
 let me see, let me see, let me see. 
 
scene v] TWELFTH NIGHT 51 
 
 Fab. What dish o' poison has she dressed him ! 
 
 Sir To. And with what wing the staniel checks at it N ! 
 
 Mai. "I may command where I adore." Why, she may 
 command me : I serve her ; she is my lady. Why, this 
 is evident to any formal capacity ; there is no obstruction 
 in this : and the end, — what should that alphabetical posi- 
 tion portend ? If I could make that resemble something in 
 me, — Softly ! M, O, A, I, — 112 
 
 Sir To. O, ay, make up that : he is now at a cold scent N . 
 
 Fab. Sowter N will cry upon 't for all this, though it be as 
 rank as a fox N . 
 
 Mai. M, — Malvolio ; M, — why, that begins my name. 
 
 Fab. Did not I say he would work it out ? the cur is ex- 
 cellent at faults N . 
 
 Mai. M, — but then there is no consonancy in the sequel ; 
 that suffers under probation N : A should follow, but O does. 
 
 Fab. And O shall end, I hope. 121 
 
 Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O ! 
 
 Mai. And then I comes behind. 
 
 Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see 
 more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. 
 
 Mai. M, O, A, I ; this simulation is not as the former : 
 and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every 
 one of these letters are in my name. Soft ! here follows 
 prose. 129 
 
 [Reads.] If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars 1 * I am 
 above thee ; but be not afraid of greatness : some are born great, some 
 achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy 
 FatesM open their hands ; let thy blood^ and spirit embrace them ; 
 and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough D 
 and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; 
 let thy tongue tang arguments of state N ; put thyself into the trick of 
 singularity : she thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember 
 who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever 
 
52 TWELFTH NIGHT [act n 
 
 cross-garteredN : I say, remember. Go to, thou art made**, if thou 
 desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of 
 servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune's ringers. Farewell. She 
 that would alter services with thee, 142 
 
 The Fortunate- Unhappy. 
 
 Daylight and champaign 01 discovers not more : this is open. 
 I will be proud, I will read politic authors N , I will baffle 01 
 Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point - 
 devise the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let 
 imagination jade me N ; for every reason excites to this, that 
 my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings 
 of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered ; and in 
 this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of 
 injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank 
 my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow 
 stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of 
 putting on. Jove and my stars be praised ! Here is yet a 
 postscript. 156 
 
 [Reads.] Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou 
 entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles be- 
 come thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, 
 I prithee. 
 
 Jove, I thank thee : I will smile ; I will do every thing 
 that thou wilt have me. [Exit. 
 
 Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of 
 thousands to be paid from the Sophy N . 164 
 
 Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. 
 
 Sir And. So could I too. 
 
 Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her but such another 
 jest. 
 
 Sir And. Nor I neither. 
 
 Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. 170 
 
scene v] TWELFTH NIGHT 53 
 
 Re-enter Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck ? 
 
 Sir And. Or o' mine either ? 
 
 Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip D , and be- 
 come thy bond-slave ? 
 
 Sir And. V faith, or I either? 
 
 Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that 
 when the image of it leaves him he must run mad. 
 
 Mar. Nay, but say true ; does it work upon him ? 
 
 Sir To. Like aqua-vitae N with a midwife. 179 
 
 Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark 
 his first approach before my lady : he will come to her in 
 yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors, and cross- 
 gartered, a fashion she detests ; and he will smile upon her, 
 which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being 
 addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn 
 him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me. 
 
 Sir To. To the gates of Tartar*, thou most excellent 
 devil of wit ! 
 
 Sir And. I'll make one too. [Exeunt. 
 
54 TWELFTH NIGHT [act in 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene I. Olivia's garden. 
 Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabor. 
 
 Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music : dost thou live by 
 thy tabor ? 
 
 Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. 
 
 Vio. Art thou a churchman ? 
 
 Clo. No such matter, sir : I do live by the church ; for 
 I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the 
 church. 
 
 Vio. So thou mayst say, the king lives by a beggar, if a 
 beggar dwell near him ; or, the church stands by thy tabor, 
 if thy tabor stand by the church. 10 
 
 Clo. You have said, sir. To see this age ! A sentence 
 is but a cheveril D glove to a good wit : how quickly the 
 wrong side may be turned outward ! 
 
 Vio. Nay, that's certain. 
 
 Clo. Indeed words are very rascals since bonds disgraced 
 them. 
 
 Vio. Thy reason, man ? 
 
 Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words ; 
 and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with 
 them. 20 
 
 Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for 
 nothing. 
 
 Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something ; but in my 
 conscience, sir, I do not care for you. If that be to care for 
 nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 55 
 
 Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool ? 
 
 Clo. No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly. She 
 will keep no fool, sir, till she be married ; and fools are as 
 like husbands as pilchards are to herrings; the husband's 
 the bigger. I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of 
 words. 31 
 
 Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's. 
 
 Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it 
 shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool 
 should be as oft with your master as with my mistress. I 
 think I saw your wisdom there. 
 
 Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. 
 Hold, there's expenses for thee. [Gives money. 
 
 Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee 
 a beard ! 40 
 
 Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one ; 
 [Aside] though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is 
 thy lady within ? 
 
 Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir ? 
 
 Vio. Yes, being kept together and put to use. 
 
 Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia N , sir, to bring 
 a Cressida to this Troilus. 
 
 Vio. I understand you, sir ; 'tis well begged. 48 
 
 [Gives again. 
 
 Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a 
 beggar : Cressida was a beggar N . My lady is within, sir. 
 I will construe to them whence you come ; who you are and 
 what you would are out of my welkin, I might say " ele- 
 ment 1 *," but the word is over- worn. [Exit. 
 
 Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; 
 And to do that well craves a kind of wit : 
 He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 
 The quality of persons, and the time, 
 
56 TWELFTH NIGHT [act hi 
 
 And, like the haggard, check at every feather 1 * 
 
 That comes before his eye. This is a practice 
 
 As full of labour as a wise man's art : 60 
 
 For folly that he wisely shows is fit ; 
 
 But wise men, folly-falPn, quite taint their wit D . 
 
 Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir To. Save you, gentleman. 
 
 Vio. And you, sir. 
 
 Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. 
 
 Vio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur™. 
 
 Sir And. I hope, sir, you are ; and I am yours. 
 
 Sir To. Will you encounter the house ? my niece is desir- 
 ous you should enter, if your trade be to her. 69 
 
 Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the 
 list 04 of my voyage. 
 
 Sir To. Taste your legs, sir ; put them to motion. 
 
 Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I under- 
 stand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. 
 
 Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. 
 
 Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we 
 are prevented 01 . 
 
 Enter Olivia and Maria. 
 
 Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours 
 on you ! 79 
 
 Sir And. That youth 's a rare courtier: "Rain odours;" 
 well. 
 
 Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own 
 most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. 
 
 Sir And. "Odours," "pregnant" and "vouchsafed:" I'll 
 get 'em all three all ready. 
 
 OH. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 57 
 
 hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria.] Give 
 me your hand, sir. 
 
 Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. 
 
 Oli. What is your name ? 90 
 
 Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. 
 
 Oli. My servant, sir ! 'Twas never merry world 
 Since lowly feigning was calPd compliment : 
 You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth. 
 
 Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours : 
 Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. 
 
 Oli. For him, I think not on him : for his thoughts, 
 Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me ! 
 
 Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts 
 On his behalf. 
 
 Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you, 100 
 
 I bade you never speak again of him : 
 But, would you undertake another suit, 
 I had rather hear you to solicit that 
 Than music D5 from the spheres D4b . 
 
 Vio. Dear lady, — 
 
 Oli. Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, 
 After the last enchantment you did here, 
 A ring in chase of you : so did I abuse N 
 Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you ; 
 Under your hard construction must I sit, 
 To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, no 
 
 Which you knew none of yours : what might you think ? 
 Have you not set mine honour at the stake 
 And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts 1 * 
 That tyrannous heart can think ? To one of your receiving 
 Enough is shown : a cypress N , not a bosom, 
 Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak. 
 
 Vio. I pity you. 
 
58 TWELFTH NIGHT [act m 
 
 Oli. That's a degree to love. 
 
 Vio. No, not a grize D ; for 'tis a vulgar proof 1 *, 
 That very oft we pity enemies. 
 
 Oli. Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again. 120 
 
 world, how apt the poor are to be proud ! 
 If one should be a prey, how much the better 
 
 To fall before the lion than the wolf ! [Clock strikes. 
 
 The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. 
 
 Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you : 
 
 And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, 
 
 Your wife is like to reap a proper man : 
 
 There lies your way, due west. 
 
 Vio. Then westward-ho N ! Grace and good disposition 
 Attend your ladyship ! 130 
 
 You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me ? 
 
 Oli. Stay : 
 
 1 prithee, tell me what thou think'st of me. 
 
 Vio. That you do think you are — not what you are. 
 
 Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. 
 
 Vio. Then think you right : I am not what I am. 
 
 Oli. I would you were as I would have you be ! 
 
 Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am ? 
 I wish it might, for now I am your fool. 
 
 Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 140 
 
 In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 
 A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon 
 Than love that would seem hid : love's night is noon. 
 Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
 By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing, 
 I love thee so, that maugre D all thy pride, 
 Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. 
 Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
 For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; 
 
scene n] TWELFTH NIGHT 59 
 
 But rather reason thus with reason fetter, 150 
 
 Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. 
 
 Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, 
 I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, 
 And that no woman has ; nor never none 
 Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
 And so adieu, good madam : never more 
 Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 
 
 Oli. Yet come again ; for thou perhaps mayst move 
 That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. Olivia's house. 
 Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. 
 
 Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. 
 
 Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the 
 count's servingman than ever she bestowed upon me ; I 
 saw 't i' th' orchard 01 . 
 
 Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy ? tell me that. 
 
 Sir And. As plain as I see you now. 
 
 Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward 
 you. 10 
 
 Sir And. 'Slight N , will you make an ass o' me ? 
 
 Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of 
 judgement and reason. 
 
 Sir To. And they have been grand-jurymen since before 
 Noah was a sailor. 
 
 Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight only 
 to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put 
 fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver N . You should 
 then have accosted her ; and with some excellent jests, fire- 
 
60 TWELFTH NIGHT [act in 
 
 new from the mint F , you should have banged the youth into 
 dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was 
 balked : the double gilt of this opportunity you let time 
 wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's 
 opinion ; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's 
 beard N , unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt 
 either of valour or policy" 3 . 26 
 
 Sir And. An 't be any way, it must be with valour; for 
 policy I hate : I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician 01 . 
 
 Sir To. Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis 
 of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with 
 him ; hurt him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of 
 it ; and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world 
 can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than 
 report of valour. 34 
 
 Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? 
 
 Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand ; be curst and 
 brief ; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full 
 of invention : taunt him with the license of ink : if thou 
 thou'st N him some thrice, it shall not be amiss ; and as 
 many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet 
 were big enough for the bed of Ware in England 1 *, set 'em 
 down : go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, 
 though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter : about it. 
 
 Sir And. Where shall I find you? 45 
 
 Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo D : go. 
 
 [Exit Sir Andrew. 
 
 Fab. This is a dear manakin D,N to you, Sir Toby. 
 
 Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand N 
 strong, or so. 49 
 
 Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him : but you'll 
 not deliver 't ? 
 
scene in] TWELFTH NIGHT 61 
 
 Sir To. Never trust me, then ; and by all means stir on 
 the youth to an answer N . I think oxen and wain-ropes 
 cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened 
 and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot 
 of a flea, I'll eat the rest of th' anatomy. 
 
 Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no 
 great presage of cruelty. 58 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine N comes. 
 
 Mar. If you desire the spleen Dl ' 6 , and will laugh your- 
 selves into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned 
 heathen, a very renegado ; for there is no Christian, that 
 means to be saved by believing rightly can ever believe such 
 impossible passages of grossness N . He's in yellow stockings. 
 
 Sir To. And cross-gartered ? 65 
 
 Mar. Most villanously ; like a pedant D that keeps a 
 school i' th' church N . I have dogged him like his murderer. 
 He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to 
 betray him : he does smile his face into more lines than is 
 in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies N ; you 
 have not seen such a thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear 
 hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him: if 
 she do, he'll smile and take 't for a great favour. 73 
 
 Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. A street. 
 Enter Sebastian and Antonio. 
 
 Seb. I would not by my will have troubled you ; 
 But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, 
 I will no further chide you. 
 
 Ant. I could not stay behind you : my desire, 
 
62 TWELFTH NIGHT [act in 
 
 More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth : 
 
 And not all love to see you, though so much 
 
 As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, 
 
 But jealousy Da what might befall your travel, 
 
 Being skilless in these parts ; which to a stranger, 
 
 Unguided and unfriended, often prove 10 
 
 Rough and unhospitable : my willing love, 
 
 The rather by these arguments of fear, 
 
 Set forth in your pursuit. 
 
 Seb. My kind Antonio, 
 
 I can no other answer make but thanks, 
 And thanks, and thanks ; and ever oft good turns 
 Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay : 
 But, were my worth as is my conscience firm, 
 You should find better dealing. What's to do ? 
 Shall we go see the reliques N of this town ? 
 
 Ant. To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging. 20 
 
 Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night : 
 I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes 
 With the memorials and the things of fame 
 That do renown this city. 
 
 Ant. Would you'd pardon me ; 
 
 I do not without danger walk these streets : 
 Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys* 
 I did some service ; of such note indeed, 
 That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd D2 . 
 
 Seb. Belike you slew great number of his people. 
 
 Ant. t The offence is not of such a bloody nature ; 30 
 
 Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel 
 Might well have given us bloody argument. 
 It might have since been answer'd in repaying 
 What we took from them ; which, for traffic's sake, 
 Most of our city did ; only myself stood out j 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT 63 
 
 For which, if I be lapsed 02 in this place, 
 I shall pay dear. 
 
 Seb. Do not then walk too open. 
 
 A nt. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse. 
 In the south suburbs, at the Elephant N , 
 Is best to lodge : I will bespeak our diet, 40 
 
 Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge 
 With viewing of the town : there shall you have me. 
 
 Seb. Why I your purse ? 
 
 Ant. Haply D your eye shall light upon some toy 
 You have desire to purchase ; and your store,' 
 I think, is not for idle markets, sir. 
 
 Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you 
 For an hour. 
 
 Ant. To the Elephant. 
 
 Seb. I do remember. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. Olivia's garden. 
 Enter Olivia and Maria. 
 
 Oli. I have sent after him : he says he'll come ; 
 How shall I feast him ? what bestow of him ? 
 For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd. 
 I speak too loud. 
 
 Where is Malvolio ? he is sad and civil N , 
 And suits well for a servant with my fortunes : 
 Where is Malvolio ? 
 
 Mar. He's coming, madam ; but in very strange manner. 
 He is, sure, possessed N , madam. 
 
 Oli. Why, what's the matter ? does he rave ? 10 
 
 Mar. No, madam, he does nothing but smile : your lady- 
 ship were best to have some guard about you, if he come; 
 for, sure, the man is tainted in 's wits. 
 
64 TWELFTH NIGHT [act m 
 
 Oli. Go call him hither. [Exit Maria.} I am as mad as 
 he, 
 If sad and merry madness equal be. 
 
 Re-enter Maria, with Malvolio. 
 
 How now, Malvolio ! 
 
 Mai. Sweet lady, ho, ho. 
 
 Oli. Smilest thou ? 
 I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. 19 
 
 Mai. Sad, lady ? I could be sad : this does make some 
 obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering: but what 
 of that ? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very 
 true sonnet is, " Please one, and please all." 
 
 Oli. Why, how dost thou, man ? what is the matter with 
 thee? 
 
 Mai. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs N . 
 It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed : 
 I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. 
 
 Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. To bed ! ay, sweet-heart. 30 
 
 Oli. God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so and kiss 
 thy hand so oft ? 
 
 Mar. How do you, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. At your request ! yes ; nightingales answer daws F . 
 
 Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness be- 
 fore my lady ? 
 
 Mai. "Be not afraid of greatness :" 'twas well writ. 
 
 Oli. What mean'st thou by that, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. "Some are born great," — 
 
 Oli. Ha ! 40 
 
 Mai. "Some achieve greatness," — 
 
 Oli. What say'st thou ? 
 
 Mai. "And some have greatness thrust upon them." 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT 65 
 
 Oli. Heaven restore thee ! 
 
 Mai. "Remember who commended thy yellow stock- 
 ings," — 
 Oli. My yellow stockings ! 
 Mai. "And wished to see thee cross-gartered." 
 Oli. Cross-gartered ! 
 
 Mai. " Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be so ; " — 
 Oli. AmImade N ? 51 
 
 Mai. " If not, let me see thee a servant still." 
 Oli. Why, this is very midsummer madness N . 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's 
 is returned : I could hardly entreat him back : he attends 
 your ladyship's pleasure. 
 
 Oli. I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] Good Maria, 
 let this fellow be looked to. Where's my cousin Toby? 
 Let some of my people have a special care of him : I would 
 not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry. 60 
 
 [Exeunt Olivia and Maria. 
 
 Mai. O, ho ! do you come near me now ? no worse man 
 than Sir Toby to look to me ! This concurs directly with 
 the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear 
 stubborn to him ; for she incites me to that in the letter. 
 "Cast thy humble slough," says she; "be opposite with a 
 kinsman, surly with servants ; let thy tongue tang with 
 arguments of state ; put thyself into the trick of singularity ; " 
 and consequently sets down the manner how ; as, a sad face, 
 a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir 
 of note, and so forth. I have limed D her ; but it is Jove's N 
 doing, and Jove make me thankful ! And when she went 
 away now, "Let this fellow be looked to:" fellow Dl ! not 
 Malvolio, nor after my degree 05 , but fellow. Why, every 
 
66 TWELFTH NIGHT [act ra 
 
 thing adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple 
 of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circum- 
 stance — what can be said ? Nothing that can be can come 
 between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, 
 not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. 78 
 
 Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby and Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If 
 all the devils of hell be drawn in little N , and Legion himself 
 possessed* him, yet I'll speak to him. 
 
 Fab. Here he is, here he is. How is' t with you, sir ? how 
 is 't with you, man ? 
 
 Mai. Go off ; I discard you : let me enjoy my private : 
 go off. 
 
 Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him ! did 
 not I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a 
 care of him. 
 
 Mai. Ah, ha ! does she so ? 89 
 
 Sir To. Go to, go to ; peace, peace ; we must deal gently 
 with him : let me alone. How do you, Malvolio ? how is 't 
 with you ? What, man ! defy the devil N : consider, he's an 
 enemy to mankind. 
 
 Mai. Do you know what you say ? 
 
 Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes 
 it at heart ! Pray God, he be not bewitched ! My lady 
 would not lose him for more than I'll say. 
 
 Mai. How now, mistress ! 
 
 Mar. O Lord ! 99 
 
 Sir To. Prithee, hold thy peace ; this is not the way : 
 do you not see you move him ? let me alone with him. 
 
 Fab. No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend 
 is rough, and will not be roughly used. 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT • 67 
 
 Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock D ! how dost thou, 
 chuck N ? 
 
 Mai. Sir! 
 
 Sir To. Ay, Biddy N , come with me. What, man ! 'tis 
 not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan N : hang him, 
 foul collier N ! 109 
 
 Mar. Get him to say his prayers N , good Sir Toby, get him 
 to pray. 
 
 Mai. My prayers, minx I 
 
 Mar. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness. 
 
 Mai. Go, hang yourselves all ! you are idle shallow things : 
 I am not of your element : you shall know more hereafter. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Is 't possible ? 
 
 Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, I could con- 
 demn it as an improbable fiction. 
 
 Sir To. His very genius N hath taken the infection of the 
 device, man. 120 
 
 Mar. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and 
 taint. 
 
 Fab. Why, we shall make him mad indeed. 
 
 Mar. The house will be the quieter. 
 
 Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound N . 
 My niece is already in the belief that he's mad : we may 
 carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, till our very 
 pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on 
 him : at which time we will bring the device to the bar N and 
 crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. 130 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew. 
 
 Fab. More matter for a May morning N . 
 Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it : I warrant there's 
 vinegar and pepper in 't. 
 
68 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 [act in 
 
 MAY DAY AT HITCHIN IN HERTFORDSHIRE 
 
 Fab. Is 't so saucy ? 
 
 Sir And. Ay, is 't, I warrant him : do but read. 
 
 Sir To. Give me. 
 
 [Reads.] Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow. 
 
 Fab. Good, and valiant. 
 
 Sir To. [Reads.] Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I 
 do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for 't. 140 
 
 Fab. A good note ; that keeps you from the blow of the 
 law. 
 
 Sir To. [Reads.] Thou comest to the Lady Olivia, and in my sight 
 she uses thee kindly : but thou liest in thy throat ; that is not the 
 matter I challenge thee for. 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 Fab. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense — less. 
 
 Sir To. [Reads.] I will waylay thee going home ; where if it be thy 
 chance to kill me, — 
 
 Fab. Good. 
 
 Sir To. [Reads.] Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain. 150 
 
 Fab. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law : good. 
 
 Sir To. [Reads.] Fare thee well ; and God have mercy upon one 
 of our souls ! He may have mercy upon mine ; but my hope is better, 
 and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn 
 enemy, Andrew Aguecheek. 
 
 If this letter move him not, his legs cannot : I'll give 't him. 
 
 Mar. You may have very fit occasion for 't : he is now in 
 some commerce with my lady, and will by and by N depart. 
 
 Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew ; scout me for him at the corner 
 of the orchard like a bum-baily D : so soon as ever thou 
 seest him, draw ; and, as thou draw'st, swear horrible ; for 
 it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering 
 accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation 
 than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away ! 164 
 
 Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter : for the behav- 
 iour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good 
 capacity and breeding ; his employment between his lord 
 and my niece confirms no less : therefore this letter, being 
 so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth : 
 he will find it comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver 
 his challenge by word of mouth ; set upon Aguecheek a 
 notable report of valour ; and drive the gentleman, as I 
 know his youth will aptly receive it, into a most hideous 
 opinion of his rage, skill, fury and impetuosity. This will 
 so fright them both that they will kill one another by the 
 look, like cockatrices . 177 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT [act in 
 
 Re-enter Olivia, with Viola. 
 
 Fab. Here he comes with your niece : give them way till 
 he take leave, and presently N after him. 
 
 Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some horrid mes- 
 sage for a challenge. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria. 
 
 Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone 
 And laid mine honour too unchary out : 
 There's something in me that reproves my fault ; 
 But such a headstrong potent fault it is, 
 That it but mocks reproof. 
 
 Vio. With the same haviour that your passion bears 
 Goes on my master's grief. 
 
 Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture ; 
 Refuse it not ; it hath no tongue to vex you ; 190 
 
 And I beseech you come again to-morrow. 
 What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, 
 That honour saved may upon asking give ? 
 
 Vio. Nothing but this ; your true love for my master. 
 
 Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that 
 Which I have given to you ? 
 
 Vio. I will acquit you. 
 
 Oli. Well, come again to-morrow : fare thee well : 
 A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Sir Toby and Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee. 
 
 Vio. And you, sir. 200 
 
 Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee to 't : of 
 
 what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know 
 
 not ; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the 
 
 hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end N : dismount thy 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT 71 
 
 tuck N , be yare D in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, 
 skilful and deadly. 
 
 Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any 
 quarrel to me : my remembrance is very free and clear from 
 any image of offence done to any man. 209 
 
 Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you : therefore, 
 if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard ; 
 for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill 
 and wrath can furnish man withal D . 
 
 Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he ? 
 
 Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unhacked rapier and 
 on carpet consideration 1 * ; but he is a devil in private brawl : 
 souls and bodies hath he divorced three ; and his incensement 
 at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be 
 none but by pangs of death and sepulchre. Hob D , nob, is 
 his word; give 't or take 't. 220 
 
 Vio. I will return again into the house and desire some 
 conduct d2 of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of 
 some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to 
 taste their valour : belike this is a man of that quirk. 
 
 Sir To. Sir, no ; his indignation derives itself out of a 
 very competent injury: therefore, get you on and give 
 him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you 
 undertake that with me which with as much safety you might 
 answer him : therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked ; 
 for meddle you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear 
 iron about you. 231 
 
 Vio. This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me 
 this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my 
 offence to him is : it is something of my negligence, nothing 
 of my purpose. 
 
 Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this 
 gentleman till my return. [Exit. 
 
72 TWELFTH NIGHT [act m 
 
 Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter ? 
 
 Fab. I know the knight is incensed against you, even to 
 a mortal arbitrement N ; but nothing of the circumstance 
 more. 241 
 
 Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he ? 
 
 Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by 
 his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. 
 He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody and fatal oppo- 
 site that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. 
 Will you walk towards him? I will make your peace with 
 him if I can. 
 
 Vio. I shall be much bound to you for 't : I am one that 
 had rather go with sir D3 priest than sir D2 knight : I care not 
 who knows so much of my mettle. [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Sir Toby, with Sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil ; I have not seen 
 such a firago N . I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard 
 and all, and he gives me the stuck in N with such a mortal 
 motion N , that it is inevitable ; and on the answer, he pays 
 you N as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on. They 
 say he has been fencer to the Sophy D . 
 
 Sir And. Pox on 't, I'll not meddle with him. 
 
 Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified : Fabian can 
 scarce hold him yonder. 260 
 
 Sir And. Plague on 't, an I thought he had been valiant 
 and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damned ere I'd 
 have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll 
 give him my horse, grey Capilet. 
 
 Sir To. I'll make the motion : stand here, make a good 
 show on 't: this shall end without the perdition of souls. 
 [Aside.] Marry D , I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. 
 
„ „,, TWELFTH NIGHT 73 
 
 SCENE IV] l vv 
 
 Re-enter Fabian and Viola. 
 
 [To Fab.] I have his horse to take up the quarrel": I have 
 nersuaded him the youth 's a devil. 2 9 
 
 P Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and 
 looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels 
 
 «r r/ir» 7fo.l There's no remedy, sir; he will fight 
 with you for '. oath sake : marry, he hath better bethought 
 Tim 01 his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth 
 talking of: therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow, 
 he protests he will not hurt you. 
 
 no [Aside.] Pray God defend me! A little thing would 
 make me tell them how much I lack of a man. 
 
 Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious. 279 
 
 Sir To Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy ; the gentle- 
 man will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you; 
 he canno by the duello" avoid it : but he has promised me, 
 as hTis a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. 
 
 Come on ; to 't. 
 
 Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath ! 
 
 Via. I do assure you, 'tis against my will. [They draw. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Ant Put up your sword. If this young gentleman 
 Have done offence, I take the fault on me : 
 If you offend him, I for him defy you. 
 
 Sir To You, sir ! why, what are you? 2 9° 
 
 Ant One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more 
 Than you have heard him brag to you he will. 
 " Sir To Nay, if you be an undertaker * I am for you 
 
 W 10. rs*y, y [They draw. 
 
74 TWELFTH NIGHT [act in 
 
 Enter Officers. 
 
 Fab. O good Sir Toby, hold ! here come the officers. 
 
 Sir To. I'll be with you anon D . 
 
 Vio. Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please. 
 
 Sir And. Marry, will I, sir; and, for that I promised 
 you, I'll be as good as my word: he will bear you easily 
 and reins well. 
 
 First Of. This is the man ; do thy office. 300 
 
 Sec. Of. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino. 
 
 Ant. You do mistake me, sir. 
 
 First Of. No, sir, no jot ; I know your favour well, 
 Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. 
 Take him away : he knows I know him well. 
 
 Ant. I must obey. [To Vio.] This comes with seeking 
 you: 
 But there's no remedy ; I shall answer 04 it. 
 What will you do, now my necessity 
 
 Makes me to ask you for my purse ? It grieves me 310 
 
 Much more for what I cannot do for you 
 Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed : 
 But be of comfort. 
 
 Sec. Of. Come, sir, away. 
 
 Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money. 
 
 Vio. What money, sir ? 
 For the fair kindness you have show'd me here, 
 And, part, being prompted by your present trouble, 
 Out of my lean and low ability 
 
 I'll lend you something : my having is not much; 320 
 
 I'll make division of my present with you : 
 Hold, there's half my coffer. 
 
 Ant. Will you deny me now ? 
 
 Is 't possible that my deserts to you 
 
scene iv] TWELFTH NIGHT 75 
 
 Can lack persuasion ? Do not tempt my misery, 
 Lest that it make me so unsound a man 
 As to upbraid you with those kindnesses 
 That I have done for you. 
 
 Vio. I know of none ; 
 
 Nor know I you by voice or any feature : 
 I hate ingratitude more in a man 
 
 Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 330 
 
 Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption 
 Inhabits our frail blood. 
 
 Ant. O heavens themselves ! 
 
 Sec. Of. Come, sir, I pray you, go. 
 
 Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here 
 I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death, 
 Relieved him with such sanctity of love, 
 And to his image, which methought did promise 
 Most venerable worth, did I devotion. 
 
 First Of. What's that to us ? The time goes by : away ! 
 
 Ant. But O how vile an idol proves this god ! 340 
 
 Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame N . 
 In nature there's no blemish but the mind ; 
 None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind : 
 Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil 
 Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd N by the devil. 
 
 First Of. The man grows mad : away with him ! Come, 
 come, sir. 
 
 Ant. Lead me on. [Exit with Officers. 
 
 Vio. Methinks his words do from such passion fly, 
 That he believes himself : so do not I. 
 
 Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, 350 
 
 That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you ! 
 
 Sir To. Come hither, knight ; come hither, Fabian : 
 we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws D2 . 
 
76 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 [act in 
 
 Vio. He named Sebastian : I my brother know 
 Yet living in my glass ; even such and so 
 In favour was my brother, and he went 
 Still 02 in this fashion, colour, ornament ; 
 For him I imitate : O, if it prove, 
 Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward 
 than a hare : his dishonesty appears in leaving his friend 
 here in necessity and denying him ; and for his cowardship, 
 ask Fabian. 363 
 
 Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. 
 
 Sir And. 'Slid N , I'll after him again and beat him. 
 
 Sir To. Do ; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword. 
 
 Sir And. An D I do not, — [Exit. 
 
 Fab. Come, let's see the event" 5 . 
 
 Sir To. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 " EMPTY TRUNKS " 
 
SCENE 1 1 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 77 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Scene I. Before Olivia's house. 
 Enter Sebastian and Clown. 
 do. Will you make me believe that I am not sent for 
 
 you? 
 
 Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow : 
 
 Let me be clear of thee. 
 
 do. Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; 
 nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak 
 with her ; nor your name is not Master Cesario ; nor this 
 is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so. 
 
 Seb. I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else : 
 Thou know'st not me. IO 
 
 do. Vent my folly ! he has heard that word of some great 
 man and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly ! I am 
 afraid this great lubberly word will prove a cockney. I 
 prithee now, ungird thy strangeness and tell me what I shall 
 vent to my lady : shall I vent to her that thou art coming ? 
 
 Seb. I prithee, foolish Greek N , depart from me : 
 There's money for thee : if you tarry longer, 
 I shall give worse payment. 
 
 do. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise 
 men that give fools money get themselves a good report — 
 after fourteen years' purchased . 2I 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again ? there's for you. 
 
 [Strikes him. 
 
 Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. 
 
78 TWELFTH NIGHT [act iv 
 
 Are all the people mad ? [They fight. 
 
 Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house. 
 
 Clo. This will I tell my lady straight : I would not be in 
 some of your coats for two pence. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. 
 
 Sir And. Nay, let him alone : I'll go another way to work 
 with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if 
 there be any law in Illyria : though I struck him first, yet 
 it's no matter for that. 32 
 
 Seb. Let go thy hand. 
 
 Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my 
 young soldier, put up your iron : you are well fleshed N ; 
 come on. 
 
 Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now ? 
 If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword. 
 
 Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce 
 or two of this malapert blood from you. 40 
 
 Enter Olivia. 
 
 Oli. Hold, Toby ; on thy life I charge thee, hold ! 
 
 Sir To. Madam I 
 
 Oli. Will it be ever thus ? Ungracious wretch, 
 Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, 
 Where manners ne'er were preach'd ! out of my sight ! 
 Be not offended, dear Cesario. 
 Rudesby, be gone ! [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 
 
 I prithee, gentle friend, 
 Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway 
 In this uncivil and unjust extent" 6 
 
 Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, 50 
 
 And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks 
 This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby 
 Mayst smile at this : thou shalt not choose but go : 
 
scene n] TWELFTH NIGHT 79 
 
 Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, 
 He started one poor heart of mine in thee F . 
 
 Seb. What relish F is in this ? how runs the stream ? 
 Or I am mad, or else this is a dream : 
 Let fancy still my sense in Lethe D steep ; 
 If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep ! 
 
 Oli. Nay, come, I prithee ; would thou 'dst be ruled by 
 me ! 60 
 
 Seb. Madam, I will. 
 
 Oli. O, say so, and so be ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. Olivia's house. 
 Enter Maria and Clown. 
 
 Mar. Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard ; 
 make him believe thou art Sir D3 Topas the curate : do it 
 quickly ; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. [Exit. 
 
 Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in 't ; 
 and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a 
 gown. I am not tall enough to become the function well, 
 nor lean enough to be thought a good student ; but to be 
 said an honest man and a good housekeeper goes as fairly 
 as to say a careful man and a great scholar. The competi- 
 tors enter. 10 
 Enter Sir Toby and Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Jove bless thee, master Parson. 
 
 Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby : for, as the old hermit of 
 Prague N , that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a 
 niece of King Gorboduc, "That that is is ;" so I, being master 
 Parson, am master Parson ; for, what is "that" but "that," 
 and "is" but "is"? 
 
 Sir To. To him, Sir Topas. 
 
 Clo. What, ho, I say ! peace in this prison N ! 
 
80 TWELFTH NIGHT [act iv 
 
 Sir To. The knave counterfeits well ; a good knave. 
 
 Mai. [Within.] Who calls there ? 20 
 
 Clo. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio 
 the lunatic. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my 
 lady. 
 
 Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend ! how vexest thou this man ! 
 talkest thou nothing but of ladies ? 
 
 Sir To. Well said, master Parson. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged : good Sir 
 Topas, do not think I am mad : they have laid me here in 
 hideous darkness. 30 
 
 Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Satan ! I call thee by the most 
 modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones that will 
 use the devil himself with courtesy : say'st thou that house 
 is dark ? 
 
 Mai. As hell, Sir Topas. 
 
 Clo. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barrica- 
 does, and the clearstories toward the south-north N are as 
 lustrous as ebony ; and yet complainest thou of obstruction ? 
 
 Mai. I am not mad, Sir Topas : I say to you, this house is 
 dark. 40 
 
 Clo. Madman, thou errest : I say, there is no darkness but 
 ignorance ; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyp- 
 tians in their fog N . 
 
 Mai. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though 
 ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I say, there was never 
 man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are : make 
 the trial of it in any constant question. 
 
 Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras N concerning wild 
 fowl? 
 
 Mai. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit 
 a bird. 51 
 
scene n] TWELFTH NIGHT 81 
 
 Clo. What think'st thou of his opinion ? 
 
 Mai. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his 
 opinion. 
 
 Clo. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness : 
 thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow 
 of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock 14 , lest thou dispossess 
 the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, Sir Topas ! 
 
 Sir To. My most exquisite Sir Topas ! 60 
 
 Clo™. Nay, I am for all waters. 
 
 Mar. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard 
 and gown : he sees thee not. 
 
 Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word 
 how thou find'st him : I would we were well rid of this 
 knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he 
 were, for I am now so far in offence with my niece that I 
 cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot D . 
 Come by and by to my chamber. 
 
 [Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria. 
 
 Clo. [Singing.] 
 
 Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, 70 
 
 Tell me how thy lady does N . 
 
 Mai. Fool! 
 
 Clo. [Singing.] "My lady is unkind, perdy." 
 
 Mai. Fool! 
 
 Clo. [Singing.] "Alas, why is she so?" 
 
 Mai. Fool, I say ! 
 
 Clo. [Singing.] "She loves another" — Who calls, ha? 
 
 Mai. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my 
 hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper : as I am 
 a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for 't. 80 
 
 Clo. Master Malvolio ? 
 
82 TWELFTH NIGHT [act iv 
 
 Mai. Ay, good fool. 
 
 Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits N ? 
 
 Mai. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused : 
 I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. 
 
 Clo. But as well ? then you are mad indeed, if you be no 
 better in your wits than a fool. 
 
 Mai. They have here propertied N me ; keep me in dark- 
 ness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face 
 me out of my wits. 90 
 
 Clo. Advise you what you say ; the minister is here. — 
 Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore ! endeavour 
 thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble. 
 
 Mai. SirTopas! 
 
 Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. — Who 
 I, sir ? not I, sir. God be wi' you N , good Sir Topas. — 
 Marry, amen. — I will, sir, I will N . 
 
 Mai. Fool, fool, fool, I say ! 
 
 Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am 
 shent D for speaking to you. 100 
 
 Mai. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: 
 I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. 
 
 Clo. Well-a-day that you were, sir ! 
 
 Mai. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, 
 and light; and convey what I will set down to my lady: 
 it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter 
 did. 
 
 Clo. I will help you to 't. But tell me true, are you not 
 mad indeed ? or do you but counterfeit ? 
 
 Mai. Believe me, I am not ; I tell thee true. 1 10 
 
 Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains. 
 I will fetch you light and paper and ink. 
 
 Mai. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree : I prithee, 
 be gone. 
 
scene in] TWELFTH NIGHT 83 
 
 Clo. [Singing. \ 
 
 I am gone, sir, 
 
 And anon, sir, 
 I'll be with you again, 
 
 In a trice, 
 
 Like to the old Vice N , 
 Your need to sustain ; 120 
 
 Who, with dagger of lath, 
 In his rage and his wrath, 
 
 Cries, ah, ha ! to the Devil : 
 Like a mad lad, 
 Pare thy nails, dad ; 
 Adieu, goodman Devil N . [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. Olivia's garden. 
 
 Enter Sebastian. 
 
 Seb. This is the air ; that is the glorious sun ; 
 This pearl she gave me ; I do feel 't and see 't ; 
 And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, 
 Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then ? 
 I could not find him at the Elephant : 
 Yet there he was ; and there I found this credit N , 
 That he did range the town to seek me out. 
 His counsel now might do me golden service ; 
 For though my soul disputes well with my sense, 
 That this may be some error, but no madness, 10 
 
 Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune 1 * 
 So far exceed all instance, all discourse 1 *, 
 That I am ready to distrust mine eyes 
 And wrangle D with my reason that persuades me 
 To any other trust but that I am mad, 
 Or else the lady's mad ; yet, if 'twere so, 
 She could not sway her house, command her followers, 
 
84 TWELFTH NIGHT [act iv 
 
 Take and give back affairs and their dispatch 
 
 With such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing 
 
 As I perceive she does : there's something in 't 20 
 
 That is deceivable. But here the lady comes. 
 
 Enter Olivia and Priest. 
 
 Oli. Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, 
 Now go with me and with this holy man 
 Into the chantry by : there, before him, 
 And underneath that consecrated roof, 
 Plight me the full assurance of your faith ; 
 That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
 May live at peace. He shall conceal it 
 Whiles N you are willing it shall come to note, 
 What time we will our celebration keep 30 
 
 According to my birth. What do you say ? 
 
 Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you ; 
 And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. 
 
 Oli. Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so 
 shine, 
 That they may fairly note this act of mine ! [Exeunt. 
 
 THE CHANTRY 
 
SCENE I] 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 85 
 
 COURTYARD OF A CASTLE 
 
 ACT V 
 
 Scene I. Before Olivia's house. 
 
 Enter Clown and Fabian. 
 
 Fab Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. 
 do. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. 
 
 Fab. Any thing. 
 
 do. Do not desire to see this letter. > 
 
 Fab. This is, to give a dog, and in recompense desire my 
 dog again. 
 
86 TWELFTH NIGHT [act v 
 
 Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords. 
 
 Duke. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? 
 
 Clo. Ay, sir ; we are some of her trappings. 
 
 Duke. I know thee well : how dost thou, my good fellow? 
 
 Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for 
 my friends. n 
 
 Duke. Just the contrary ; the better for thy friends. 
 
 Clo. No, sir, the worse. 
 
 Duke. How can that be ? 
 
 Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me ; 
 now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass : so that by my foes, 
 sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends 
 I am abused : so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your 
 four negatives make your two affirmatives N , why then, the 
 worse for my friends and the better for my foes. 20 
 
 Duke. Why, this is excellent. 
 
 Clo. By my troth, sir, no ; though it please you to be one 
 of my friends. 
 
 Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me : there's gold. 
 
 Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you 
 could make it another. 
 
 Duke. O, you give me ill counsel. 
 
 Clo. Put your grace N in your pocket, sir, for this once, 
 and let your flesh and blood obey it N . 
 
 Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a double- 
 dealer: there's another. 31 
 
 Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play N ; and the old 
 saying is, the third pays for all : the triplex , sir, is a good 
 tripping measure ; or the bells of Saint Bennet N , sir, may put 
 you in mind ; one, two, three. 
 
 Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this 
 throw: if you will let your lady know I am here to speak 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 87 
 
 with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my 
 bounty further. 3 9 
 
 Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. 
 I go, sir ; but I would not have you to think that my desire 
 of having is the sin of covetousness : but, as you say, sir, 
 let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit. 
 
 Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. 
 
 Enter Antonio and Officers. 
 
 Duke. That face of his I do remember well ; 
 Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd 
 As black as Vulcan M in the smoke of war : 
 A bawbling N vessel was he captain of, 
 For shallow draught and bulk unprizable D ; 
 With which such scathful grapple did he make 5° 
 
 With the most noble bottom of our fleet, 
 That very envy N and the tongue of loss N 
 Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter ? 
 
 First Of. Orsino, this is that Antonio 
 That took the Phcenix and her fraught from Candy N ; 
 And this is he that did the Tiger board, 
 When your young nephew Titus lost his leg : 
 Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state*, 
 In private brabble did we apprehend him. 
 
 Vio. He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side ; 60 
 
 But in conclusion put strange speech upon me : 
 I know not what 'twas but distraction. 
 
 Duke. Notable pirate ! thou salt-water thief ! 
 What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, 
 Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, 
 Hast made thine enemies ? 
 
 A n t. Orsino, noble sir, 
 
 Be pleased that I shake oft these names you give me : 
 
88 TWELFTH NIGHT [act v 
 
 Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, 
 
 Though I confess, on base and ground enough, 
 
 Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither : 70 
 
 That most ingrateful boy there by your side, 
 
 From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth 
 
 Did I redeem ; a wrack past hope he was : 
 
 His life I gave him and did thereto add 
 
 My love, without retention or restraint, 
 
 All his in dedication : for his sake 
 
 Did I expose myself, pure for his love, 
 
 Into the danger of this adverse town ; 
 
 Drew to defend him when he was beset : 
 
 Where being apprehended, his false cunning, 80 
 
 Not meaning to partake with me in danger, 
 
 Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, 
 
 And grew a twenty years removed thing 
 
 While one would wink ; denied me mine own purse, 
 
 Which I had recommended to his use 
 
 Not half an hour before. 
 
 Vio. How can this be ? 
 
 Duke. When came he to this town ? 
 
 Ant. To-day, my lord ; and for three months before, 
 No interim, not a minute's vacancy, 
 Both day and night did we keep company. 90 
 
 Enter Olivia and Attendants. 
 
 Duke. Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on 
 earth. 
 But for thee, fellow ; fellow, thy words are madness : 
 Three months this youth hath tended upon me ; 
 But more of that anon. Take him aside. 
 
 Oli. What would my lord, but that he may not have, 
 Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ? 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 89 
 
 Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. 
 
 Vio. Madam ! 
 
 Duke. Gracious Olivia, — 
 
 Oli. What do you say, Cesario ? Good my lord, — ioo 
 
 Vio. My lord would speak ; my duty hushes me. 
 
 OIL If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, 
 It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear 
 As howling after music. 
 
 Duke. Still so cruel ? 
 
 Oli. Still so constant, lord. 
 
 Duke. What, to perverseness ? you uncivil lady, 
 To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars 
 My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out 
 That e'er devotion tender'd ! What shall I do ? 
 
 Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. 
 
 Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, in 
 Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death 1 *, 
 Kill what I love ? — a savage jealousy 
 That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this : 
 Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, 
 And that I partly know the instrument 
 That screws me from my true place in your favour, 
 Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still ; 
 But this your minion D , whom I know you love, 
 And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, 120 
 
 Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, 
 Where he sits crowned in his master's spite N . 
 Come, boy, with me ; my thoughts are ripe in mischief : 
 I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, 
 To spite a raven's heart within a dove. 
 
 Vio. And I, most jocund, apt and willingly, 
 To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. 
 
 Oli. Where goes Cesario ? 
 
90 TWELFTH NIGHT [act v 
 
 Vio. After him I love 
 
 More than I love these eyes, more than my life, 
 More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife. 130 
 
 If I do feign, you witnesses above 
 Punish my life for tainting of my love ! 
 
 Oli. Ay me, detested ! how am I begun" d D ! 
 
 Vio. Who does beguile you ? who does do you wrong ? 
 
 Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself ? is it so long ? 
 Call forth the holy father. [Attendant goes out. 
 
 Duke. Come, away ! 
 
 Oli. Whither, my lord ? Cesario, husband, stay. 
 
 Duke. Husband ! 
 
 Oli. Ay, husband : can he that deny ? 
 
 Duke. Her husband, sirrah D ! 
 
 Vio. No, my lord, not I. 
 
 Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear 140 
 
 That makes thee strangle thy propriety N : 
 Fear not, Cesario ; take thy fortunes up ; 
 Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art 
 As great as that thou fear'st. 
 
 Enter Attendant and Priest. 
 
 O, welcome, father ! 
 Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, 
 Here to unfold, though lately we intended 
 To keep in darkness what occasion now 
 Reveals before 'tis ripe, what thou dost know 
 Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me. 
 
 Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, 150 
 
 Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, 
 Attested by the holy close of lips, 
 Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings ; 
 And all the ceremony of this compact 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 91 
 
 Seal'd in my function, by my testimony : 
 
 Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave 
 
 I have travelPd but two hours. 
 
 Duke. O thou dissembling cub ! what wilt thou be 
 When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case N ? 
 Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, 160 
 
 That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ? 
 Farewell, and take her ; but direct thy feet 
 Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. 
 
 Vio. My lord, I do protest — 
 
 Oli. O, do not swear ! 
 
 Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew with his head broken. 
 
 Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon ! Send one 
 presently to Sir Toby. 
 
 Oli. What's the matter ? 
 
 Sir And. He has broke my head across and has given Sir 
 Toby a bloody coxcomb D too : for the love of God, your help ! 
 I had rather than forty pound I were at home. 171 
 
 Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew ? 
 
 Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario : we took 
 him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate N . 
 
 Duke. My gentleman, Cesario ? 
 
 Sir And. 'Od's lifelings N , here he is ! You broke my 
 head for nothing ; and that that I did, I was set on to do 't 
 by Sir Toby. 
 
 Vio. Why do you speak to me ? I never hurt you : 
 You drew your sword upon me without cause ; 180 
 
 But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not. 
 
 Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt 
 me : I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. 
 
92 TWELFTH NIGHT [act v 
 
 Enter Sir Toby drunk, led by the Clown. 
 
 Here comes Sir Toby halting ; you shall hear more : but if 
 he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you other- 
 gates than he did. 
 
 Duke. How now, gentleman ! how is 't with you ? 
 
 Sir To. That's all one : has hurt me, and there's the end 
 on 't. Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot ? 
 
 Clo. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes 
 were set at eight i' th' morning. 191 
 
 Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures pavin N : 
 I hate a drunken rogue. 
 
 Oli. Away with him ! Who hath made this havoc with 
 them? 
 
 Sir And. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dressed 
 together. 
 
 Sir To. Will you help ? an ass-head and a coxcomb and 
 a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull N ! 
 
 Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. 200 
 [Exeunt Clown, Fabian, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. 
 
 Enter Sebastian. 
 
 Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman ; 
 But, had it been the brother of my blood, 
 I must have done no less with wit and safety N . 
 You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that 
 I do perceive it hath offended you : 
 Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows 
 We made each other but so late ago. 
 
 Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, 
 A natural perspective*, that is and is not ! 
 
 Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio ! 210 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 93 
 
 How have the hours rack'd and tortured me, 
 Since I have lost thee ! 
 
 Ant. Sebastian are you ? 
 
 Seh Fear'st thou that, Antonio? 
 
 Ant. How have you made division of yourself ? 
 An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin 
 Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian ? 
 
 Oli. Most wonderful 1 
 
 Seb. Do I stand there ? I never had a brother ; 
 Nor can there be that deity in my nature*, 
 Of here and every where. I had a sister, 
 Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd. 
 Of charity, what kin are you to me ? 
 What countryman? what name? what parentage ? 
 
 Vio. OfMessaline: Sebastian was my father ; 
 Such a Sebastian was my brother too, 
 So went he suited to his watery tomb :^ 
 If spirits can assume both form and suit 
 
 You come to fright us. 
 
 5^ A spirit I am indeed ; 
 
 But am in that dimension grossly clad N 
 
 Which from the womb I did participate. 230 
 
 Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, 
 
 I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, 
 
 And say " Thrice welcome, drowned Viola !" 
 
 Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow. 
 
 Seb. And so had mine. 
 
 Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth 
 Had number'd thirteen years. 
 
 Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul ! 
 He finished indeed his mortal act 
 That day that made my sister thirteen years. 240 
 
 Vio. If nothing lets D to make us happy both 
 
94 TWELFTH NIGHT [act v 
 
 But this my masculine usurp'd attire, 
 
 Do not embrace me till each circumstance 
 
 Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump D 
 
 That I am Viola : which to confirm, 
 
 I'll bring you to a captain in this town, 
 
 Where lie my maiden weeds ; by whose gentle help 
 
 I was preserv'd to serve this noble count. 
 
 All the occurrence of my fortune since 
 
 Hath been between this lady and this lord. 250 
 
 Seb. [To Olivia.] So comes it, lady, you have been mis- 
 took: 
 But nature to her bias D drew in that. 
 You would have been contracted to a maid ; 
 Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd, 
 You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. 
 
 Duke. Be not amazed ; right noble is his blood. 
 If this be so, as yet the glass N seems true, 
 I shall have share in this most happy wrack. 
 [To Viola.] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times 
 Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. 260 
 
 Vio. And all those sayings will I over-swear ; 
 And all those swearings keep as true in soul 
 As doth that orbed continent the fire N 
 That severs day from night. 
 
 Duke. Give me thy hand ; 
 
 And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds . 
 
 Vio. The captain that did bring me first on shore 
 Hath my maid's garments : he upon some action 
 Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit, 
 A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. 
 
 Oli. He shall enlarge him : fetch Malvolio hither : 270 
 And yet, alas, now I remember me, 
 They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 95 
 
 Re-enter Clown, with a letter, and Fabian. 
 
 A most extracting 1 * frenzy of mine own 
 From my remembrance clearly banish'd his. 
 How does he, sirrah ? 
 
 Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub N at the stave's 
 end N as well as a man in his case may do : has here writ a 
 letter to you ; I should have given 't you to-day morning, 
 but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills 03 
 not much when they are delivered. 280 
 
 Oli. Open 't, and read it. 
 
 Clo. Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers 
 the madman. [Reads.] "By the Lord, madam," — 
 
 Oli. How now ! art thou mad ? 
 
 Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness : an your lady- 
 ship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox. 
 
 Oli. Prithee, read i' thy right wits. 
 
 Clo. So I do, madonna ; but to read his right wits is to 
 read thus : therefore perpend D , my princess, and give ear. 
 
 Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian. 290 
 
 Fab. [Reads.] By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world 
 shall know it : though you have put me into darkness and given your 
 drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well 
 as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the sem- 
 blance I put on ; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much 
 right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my 
 duty a little unthought of and speak out of my injury. 
 
 The Madly-used Malvolio. 
 
 Oli. Did he write this ? 
 
 Clo. Ay, madam. 300 
 
 Duke. This savours not much of distraction. 
 
 Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian ; bring him hither. 
 
 [Exit Fabian. 
 
96 TWELFTH NIGHT [act v 
 
 My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, 
 To think me as well a sister as a wife, 
 One day shall crown th' alliance on 't, so please you, 
 Here at my house and at my proper 1 cost. 
 
 Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer. 
 [To Viola.] Your master quits" you; and for your service 
 
 done him, 
 So much against the mettle of your sex, 
 So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, 310 
 
 And since you call'd me master for so long, 
 Here is my hand : you shall from this time be 
 Your master's mistress. 
 
 Oli. A sister ! you are she. 
 
 Re-enter Fabian, with Malvolio. 
 
 Duke. Is this the madman ? 
 
 Oli. Ay, my lord, this same. 
 
 How now, Malvolio ! 
 
 Mai. Madam, you have done me wrong, 
 
 Notorious wrong. 
 
 Oli. Have I, Malvolio ? no. 
 
 Mai. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter. 
 You must not now deny it is your hand F : 
 Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase ; 
 Or say 'tis not your seal, not your invention : 320 
 
 You can say none of this : well, grant it then, 
 And tell me, in the modesty of honour N , 
 Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, 
 Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you, 
 To put on yellow stockings and to frown 
 Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people ; 
 And, acting this in an obedient hope, 
 Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, 
 
scene i] TWELFTH NIGHT 97 
 
 Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, 
 
 And made the most notorious geck D and gull 330 
 
 That e'er invention play'd on ? tell me why. 
 
 Oil. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, 
 Though, I confess, much like the character : 
 But out of question 'tis Maria's hand. 
 And now I do bethink me, it was she 
 First told me thou wast mad ; then earnest in smiling, 
 And in such forms which here were presuppos'd 
 Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content : 
 This practice 08 hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee ; 
 But when we know the grounds and authors of it, 340 
 
 Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge 
 Of thine own cause. 
 
 Fab. Good madam, hear me speak, 
 
 And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come 
 Taint the condition of this present hour, 
 Which I have wonder 'd at. In hope it shall not, 
 Most freely I confess, myself and Toby 
 Set this device against Malvolio here, 
 Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts N 
 We had conceiv'd in him. Maria writ 
 
 The letter at Sir Toby's great importance : 350 
 
 In recompense whereof he hath married her. 
 How with a sportful malice it was follow'd, 
 May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ; 
 If that the injuries be justly weigh'd 
 That have on both sides pass'd. 
 
 Oli. Alas, poor fool, how have they baffl'd D thee ! 
 
 Clo. Why, "some are born great, some achieve great- 
 ness, and some have greatness thrown upon them." I was 
 one, sir, in this interlude ; one Sir Topas, sir ; but that's 
 all one. "By the Lord, fool, I am not mad." But do you 
 
98 TWELFTH NIGHT [act v 
 
 remember? "Madam, why laugh you at such a barren 
 rascal ? an you smile not, he's gagged :" and thus the whirli- 
 gig of time N brings in his N revenges. 363 
 
 Mai. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. [Exit. 
 
 Oli. He hath been most notoriously abused. 
 
 Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace : 
 He hath not told us of the captain yet : 
 When that is known and golden time convents N , 
 A solemn combination shall be made 
 
 Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, 370 
 
 We will not part from hence. Cesario, come ; 
 For so you shall be, while you are a man ; 
 But when in other habits you are seen, 
 Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen. 
 
 [Exeunt, all except Clown. 
 
 Clo. [Sings. Y 
 
 When that I was and a little tiny boy, 
 
 With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
 A foolish thing was but a toy, 
 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came to man's estate, 
 
 With hey, ho, etc. 380 
 
 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, 
 
 For the rain, etc. 
 
 But when I came, alas ! to wive, 
 
 With hey, ho, etc. 
 By swaggering could I never thrive, 
 
 For the rain, etc. 
 
 But when I came unto my beds, 
 
 With hey, ho, etc. 
 With toss-pots still had drunken heads, 
 
 For the rain, etc. 390 
 
 A great while ago the world begun, 
 
 With hey, ho, etc. 
 But that's all one, our play is done, 
 
 And we'll strive to please you every day. [Exit. 
 
NOTES 
 
 (In matters of large interest, these Notes undertake only to suggest 
 sources of information, not to give it.) 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I 
 
 5. sound: sound of the wind. 
 
 22. fell and cruel hounds : see the story of Actaeon in Dictionary 
 of Classical Mythology. 
 
 26. seven years' heat: seven summers. 
 
 30-31. season A brother's dead love : preserve, keep fresh in 
 mind my love for my dead brother. In Shakespeare's time the use 
 of salt to preserve meat was so novel a process that it gave rise to 
 many figurative phrases like this. 
 
 35. golden shaft: golden-headed arrow. According to Ovid, 
 when Cupid's arrow was headed with gold, it caused love; but when 
 headed with lead, it destroyed love. See Dictionary of Classical 
 Mythology under Cupid, or his Greek name, Eros. 
 
 39. sweet perfections : liver, brain, and heart, the thrones 
 respectively of emotion, intellect, and affection, which are to be 
 occupied by Love as King. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 35. What's she? implies not only what is her name, but also 
 what is her social position. That form of the question is constant 
 in Shakespeare's plays. 
 
 62. mute: a dumb servant, as in eastern countries. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 6. let her except, before excepted: let her take it out in 
 exceptions. A humorous perversion of the law phrase, exceptis 
 excipiendis, which means, excepting those things which were to be 
 excepted. 
 
 7-8. modest limits of order: moderate limits of orderly con- 
 duct. 
 
 99 
 
100 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 23. viol-de-gamboys : bass viol. See viola in Webster's New 
 International Dictionary. 
 
 25. without book: by heart. 
 
 25. gifts of nature: all the gifts nature bestows at birth, and 
 
 implying no others ; therefore childlike, 
 simple. 
 
 26. natural : foolish. A natural was 
 a born fool, or idiot. 
 
 39. Castiliano vulgo! some of Sir 
 Toby's unintelligible Spanish. May 
 mean, act in public like a Spaniard, who 
 was thought by Protestant England to 
 be a subtle, wily plotter. 
 
 64. buttery-bar : the ledge at the top 
 of the buttery half-door to set tankards 
 on. The buttery was originally the place 
 where liquors only were kept ; later it 
 was used for provisions. 
 
 a viol-de-gamboys 71. I have them . . . ends. In line 
 
 64 Maria looks at Sir Andrew's hand. 
 In this speech she takes it, thus making them, whose antecedent 
 is dry jests, also refer to the fingers of Sir Andrew, who is the butt of 
 much of the fun in the play. 
 72. barren: without jests. 
 82. Pourquoi : French word meaning why. 
 84. tongues: languages. Cf. 11. 24, 25. 
 
 87. Then hadst . . . hair. In this line Sir Toby is playing on 
 the word tongues, which he pronounces tongs, with which Sir Andrew 
 could have curled his lanky, straight hair. 
 
 108. cut the mutton to it: plays on double meaning of capers, 
 tricks, and the greenish flower buds of the caper plant often served 
 in a sauce with mutton. 
 
 113. Mistress Mall's picture. No one knows who Mistress Mall 
 was; but the allusion is to the custom of hanging curtains over 
 pictures to protect them from dust. Incidentally, Mall is a pet 
 form of Maud. 
 
 117. star of a galliard: a star favorable to a galliard, to dancing. 
 One of many allusions to the belief in the supposed influence of the 
 position of certain constellations at the time of a child's birth over 
 the life of the child. See Astrology in New International Dictionary, 
 or in a good Encyclopaedia. 
 
 121. Taurus: the Bull, the second constellation of the Zodiac, 
 containing the Pleiades and Hyades (which see in Dictionary of 
 Mythology). It was supposed to influence the neck and throat, 
 not the sides and heart, nor the legs and thighs. 
 
scene iv] NOTES 101 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 33. all is part. In Shakespeare's time all female parts 
 were played on the professional stage by boys. 
 
 34. thy constellation ... apt: see note, I. iii. 117. 
 
 Scene V 
 
 19 for turning . . . bear it out : as for my being turned out of 
 service, I'll get along all right, for it's now summer. 
 
 21 two points. The pun in the next speech is based on the fact 
 that the metal tags on the ends of laces used to fasten hose and 
 doublet together were called points, — like the metal ends of shoe- 
 
 aC 25-26 if Sir Toby . . . Dlyria. This is a bit of the Clown's 
 illogical logic, and means, if Sir Toby could stop drinking long 
 enough, he would marry you, for he thinks you are the wittiest 
 girl in Illyria. 
 
 32. Quinapalus: a manufactured authority for wisdom, — part 
 of the Clown's fooling. 
 
 45 this simple syllogism. The preceding sentence is a syllo- 
 gism only in form and in the Clown's logic. See syllogism in New 
 International Dictionary. 
 
 51-52. cucullus . . . monachum: a cowl does not make a monk. 
 In modern phrase, clothes do not make the man. 
 
 59 my mouse of virtue: my virtuous mouse. Mouse is a 
 common term of endearment, and permitted to the fool s use by his 
 wide license. 
 
 80. ordinary fool: a real, natural fool. 
 
 86. distempered: diseased. 
 
 91 Mercury endue thee with leasing. Mercury as the god of 
 merchants, who were proverbial liars, could give her great efficiency 
 in lying. 
 
 100-101. he speaks . . . madman: he talks exactly like a mad- 
 man. 
 
 108. pia mater: brain. 
 
 113-114 a plague . . . sot. Sir. Toby hiccoughs being drunk, 
 but pretends it is due to his having eaten pickled, i.e. dried, herrings ; 
 then turns and calls the Clown sot, or drunkard. 
 
 115. Good Sir Toby. The Clown tries to calm him. 
 
 125. above heat : above enough to warm a man up well. 
 
 127. crowner: old spelling for coroner. 
 
 141 like a sheriff's post. There is doubt as to whether a post was 
 set up at a sheriff's door as a sign of authority or to post bills on, or 
 
102 TWELFTH NIGHT [act i 
 
 whether the doorposts, having been frequently used as a convenient 
 place to post bills, gradually came to be thought of as a kind of 
 symbol of authority. 
 
 156. Gentlewoman. Notice that Maria is more like a lady in 
 waiting than a servant. 
 
 166. comptible . . . usage : sensitive even to the least unfriendly 
 usage. 
 
 170. modest assurance : moderate assurance. 
 
 176. usurp myself : encroach unlawfully on myself. 
 
 177. if you . . . yourself: if you are the lady of the house, you 
 unlawfully encroach upon your own duties. 
 
 179. from: apart from. 
 
 188. time of the moon. The moon at various phases was sup- 
 posed to have greater or less influence on people. 
 
 192. giant: ironical, because she was small. See III. ii. 59. 
 
 197. taxation of homage : demand for homage. 
 
 202-203. What I am . . . maidenhood: probably lines from an 
 old ballad. Notice the rhythm and rhyme. 
 
 203-204. to your ears . . . profanation: if I told you, it would be 
 proper, but if told to anyone else, it would be highly improper, 
 since I am a disguised girl in the service of the Duke and in love with 
 him. 
 
 219. I was this present : jocose for, I am now. 
 
 221. in grain : dyed in the wool. See New International Diction- 
 ary for etymology. 
 
 234. if you . . . fair. The devil was supposed to be black. 
 
 244. shape of nature : natural shape. 
 
 251. willow cabin. Willow was a favorite with mourners and 
 disconsolate lovers. See Othello, IV. iii. 28-51 ; also Hone's Every 
 Day Book, pp. 540-542. 
 
 253. cantons: cantos, stanzas. 
 
 277. Unless the . . . man: would that the master and servant 
 could change places ! 
 
 278. catch the plague : fall in love. 
 
 292. Mine eye . . . mind: my eye will lead me to believe what 
 my mind tells me is not true. 
 
 294. be this so : may this be so decreed. 
 
scene i] NOTES 103 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene I 
 
 3-4. My stars . . .me: my future looks dark. Compare 
 I. iii. 117. 
 
 10. mere extravagancy: nothing but wandering. 
 15. Messaline : no such city exists. 
 
 23. estimable wonder : admiring estimation. 
 
 28. your bad entertainment : my poor entertainment of you. 
 
 29. your trouble : the trouble I caused you. 
 
 35. manners of my mother: weeping, which was then supposed 
 to be the distinctive trait of women. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 17. her eyes had lost her tongue: she was so occupied with 
 looking that she could not speak. 
 
 25. pregnant enemy : resourceful enemy, Cupid. Johnson inter- 
 prets it the enemy of man, the devil. Which do you think? 
 
 Scene III 
 
 2. deliculo surgere : blunder for part of a sentence from Lyly's 
 Latin Grammar, which it is thought Shakespeare must have studied 
 in the Stratford Grammar School. Diluculo surgere saluberrimum est: 
 it is most healthful to rise at dawn. 
 
 22-23. Pigrogromitus . . . Queubus: mere nonsense of the 
 Clown. 
 
 24. leman : sweetheart. 
 
 25. impeticos thy gratillity: the Clown's distortion of, put thy 
 gratuity in my petticoat pocket. 
 
 27. bottle-ale houses : much like modern saloons. 
 
 34. love-song . . . good life: a vulgar ballad or a decent 
 song. 
 
 49. sweet-and-twenty : my sweet girl and twenty times, or my 
 sweet girl of twenty. Which do you think? 
 
 52. contagious breath : pleasing voice. 
 
 56-57. draw three . . . weaver. There was a belief that music 
 could draw the soul out of a man. See Much. Ado, II. iii. 61, 62. 
 Weavers were proverbially good singers. It would therefore be a 
 good catch that could draw three souls from one weaver! 
 
 60. By'r lady : By our Lady, the Virgin Mary. 
 
 62. Hold thy peace, thou knave : the first line of the catch. 
 
104 TWELFTH NIGHT [act ii 
 
 72. Peg-a-Ramsey : probably the name of an old ballad, and 
 not a very respectable one. 
 
 72-73. Three merry men be we : another old ballad. 
 
 84. tinkers: notorious drunkards, quarrelers, and talkers. 
 112. St. Anne : the mother of Mary, and grandmother of Christ. 
 114-115. rub your chain with crumbs : a common way to polish 
 
 the chain, which was worn by a butler as a badge of his office. 
 
 119. Go shake your ears: as though he were a donkey. 
 
 129-130. wit enough . . . my bed : a thing any fool can do. 
 
 132. puritan: then a term of contempt. Possibly she thought 
 him a hypocrite, a person who affected virtue not his own. 
 
 140. cons state without book: learns dignified deportment by 
 heart. 
 
 179. burn some sack: heat some wine. See sack in the New 
 International Dictionary. 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 25. favour: face and approval. 
 
 46. free maids . . . bones : innocent girls who make lace. 
 The lace was made over a pad in which bones were set to make the 
 form. Pins are used now in place of bones. 
 
 47. silly sooth : simple truth. 
 
 53. cypress: either a cypress wood coffin, or a crepe shroud. 
 Which seems more likely? See 1. 56. 
 
 71. pleasure will be paid. Compare the modern proverb, 
 Those who dance must pay the piper. 
 
 74. melancholy god : god of melancholy. 
 
 85. as giddily as fortune : as carelessly as fortune, who is most 
 inconstant, hence is pictured sometimes as standing on a rolling 
 globe, and sometimes as sitting before a turning wheel to which men 
 are tied. 
 
 99. No motion of the liver: no real feeling, as the liver was 
 believed to be the seat of emotion. See I. i. 37. 
 
 Scene V 
 
 1. Come thy ways: come on. 
 
 9. black and blue : completely, thoroughly. 
 
 12. My metal of India: my golden girl, since gold then came 
 chiefly from India. 
 
 13. into: behind. 
 
 19. trout . . . tickling: the man that must be caught with 
 flattery. 
 
scene v] NOTES 105 
 
 28. advanced: lifted up. 
 
 35-36. lady of . . . wardrobe. The exact allusion is not known ; 
 but Bandello, the Italian novelist, in one of his novels, tells how the 
 Duchess of Amain marries her majordomo, the man in charge of her 
 household, a sort of head steward. Malvolio may refer to this 
 incident. 
 
 37. Jezebel. Note the inaccuracy of Sir Andrew's knowledge of 
 the Bible. Is there any point to this? Whom did he probably 
 mean ? 
 
 41. my state : my chair of state, my official chair. 
 
 43-44. branched velvet: velvet on which a figured design has 
 been impressed, of course without colors. 
 
 44. day-bed: couch. 
 
 48. humour of state : high airs due to my position. 
 
 49. demure travel of regard : slowly looking around. 
 
 56. play with . . . jewel: forgetting himself, he plays with his 
 chain, then, recalling that this is the badge of his menial office, 
 changes to rich jewel. 
 
 59. with cars : with carts, by hitching carts to it. 
 
 77. woodcock near the gin. The woodcock was a proverbially 
 silly bird. Gin is a snare or trap. 
 
 82. in contempt of question : without a doubt. 
 
 84-85. To the . . . wishes : the superscription on the outside of 
 the letter, which was a sheet of paper written on one side and folded 
 and sealed with wax in the old-fashioned manner. There was no 
 envelope. 
 
 85. By your leave, wax: I beg pardon for breaking the wax. 
 
 86. Soft: wait a moment, — as he notices the seal to be Olivia's, 
 a figure of Lucrece. See Lucrece in Dictionary of Classical Mythology. 
 
 88. liver: see II. iv. 99. 
 
 106. with what ... at it: how eagerly the hawk goes after the 
 wrong game. A hawk, or staniel, was said to check when it left the 
 pursuit of the proper game and went after something else. 
 
 113. at a cold scent: on the wrong track; a figure from hunting. 
 
 114. Sowter: common name for a hound. 
 
 114-115. Sowter . . . fox: the hound will cry out at it (the 
 wrong track) as though it were the real track. Or possibly in irony, 
 — Malvolio will find it at last, though it is evident to all the rest of 
 us at once. Which do you prefer? 
 
 118. faults : false tracks, broken scents. 
 
 120. probation: proof, testing. 
 
 130. In my stars: by the fortune of my birth. See I. iii. 117. 
 
 133. blood: feeling. 
 
106 TWELFTH NIGHT [act in 
 
 136. arguments of state : political conversation. 
 
 139. cross-gartered: with garters above and below the knee, 
 crossing behind. 
 
 139. thou art made : thy fortune is made. 
 
 145. politic authors : writers on politics. 
 
 148. jade me : trick me. 
 
 164. Sophy : Shah of Persia, Sofi. 
 
 179. Aqua-vitae: water of life, strong drink. 
 
 187. Tartar : Tartarus, hell. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene I 
 
 46. Lord Pandarus of Phrygia : in the story of Troilus and Cres- 
 sida as told by Shakespeare. 
 
 50. Cressida was a beggar: not according to Homer, but in the 
 mediaeval romance, which puts Pandarus into the story, Cressida 
 is said to have come into great poverty. 
 
 52-53. welkin . . . element: both mean sky. 
 
 58. like the . . . feather: like an untrained hawk, leave the 
 proper game to pursue any bird that crosses its path. 
 
 65-66. Dieu . . . serviteur: God save you, sir. And you too; 
 your servant. Sir Andrew's knowledge of French is slight. 
 
 107. abuse : has three meanings as applied to three different 
 objects, — (a) dishonor, (b) deceive, and (c) impose on. 
 
 112-113. set mine . . . thoughts. The figure is based on the 
 sport of bear-baiting, in which a bear was tied to a stake and worried 
 by dogs till it or the dogs were killed. 
 
 115. cypress : handkerchief of crepelike fabric worn as part of 
 the mourning costume. 
 
 118. vulgar proof : common experience. 
 
 129. westward-ho ! the cry of the Thames boatmen on the 
 eastern side of the river to announce their destination and to attract 
 passengers. When only one bridge spanned the Thames, many 
 ferry boats were in constant use. The corresponding cries were, 
 Eastward-ho ! Northward-ho ! etc. 
 
scene n] 
 
 NOTES 
 
 107 
 
 Scene II 
 
 11. 'Slight: by God's light. 
 
 23-25. you are . . . beard. The north side is of course the cool 
 side. The Dutchman here mentioned is thought to have been 
 Barenz, who discovered Nova Zembla in 1596, the news of which 
 reached Holland in 1598. 
 
 40. thou'st. Thou was used only to familiar friends and to 
 servants, so was an insult to a stranger. 
 
 A BED OF SHAKESPEARE S TIME 
 
 42. the bed of Ware in England: was 10 feet 9 inches square, 
 was able to accommodate ten persons, and was at one time in the 
 Saracen's Head Inn in Ware. 
 
 48. some two thousand: some two thousand pounds, equal to 
 about fifty thousand dollars now. An English pound, consisting of 
 twenty shillings, is about $4.85 in present values ; but in Shake- 
 speare's time, when a shilling was the day's wage for a skilled me- 
 chanic, obviously a pound was of much greater relative value. 
 
 53. an answer : an acceptance of the challenge. 
 59. the youngest wren of nine : hence the smallest. 
 64. passages of grossness : great proceedings. 
 67. i' the church : not an unusual place for a school then, since 
 practically all teachers had taken at least minor orders. 
 
108 TWELFTH NIGHT [act m 
 
 70. new map . . . Indies: probably a map for o'ne of the edi- 
 tions of Hakluyt's Voyages, then well known. See Mr. Coote's 
 article in Transactions of the New Shakspere Society, 1877-1870, 
 p. 88/. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 19. reliques : ancient remains. 
 
 26. count his galleys. This construction was at one time erro- 
 neously thought to be the origin of our possessive in J s. 
 
 39. Elephant: name of the inn, whose sign was the picture of 
 an elephant. Picture signs were then almost universally used, 
 because few of the people could read. 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 5. sad and civil : serious and polite. 
 
 9. possessed: in the power of an evil spirit, which was sup- 
 posed to be actually inside the person. 
 
 26. Not black . . . legs : not melancholy, though dressed in 
 yellow stockings. 
 
 51. Am I made: double meaning, — Am I a maid? Is my 
 fortune made? 
 
 53. midsummer madness. People's wits are easily turned by 
 the heat in hot countries like Italy. Compare the similar implica- 
 tion in the name of the play, A Midsummer Night's Dream, in which 
 people act very strangely. 
 
 80. drawn in little : painted in miniature. Of course, in order 
 that all the devils in hell could possess Malvolio they would have to 
 be as small as a miniature. 
 
 80-81. Legion . . . him: allusion to Mark, v. 9. 
 
 92. defy the devil : renounce the devil ; and of course he would 
 leave him. 
 
 107. Biddy: called out by chuck above, a corruption of chick. 
 
 108. gravity . . . Satan : a dignified man to play at the childish 
 game (of tossing cherry stones into a hole) with Satan. 
 
 109. collier: coal-digger. Satan was believed to be black. 
 
 110. Get him . . . prayers : a test of his being possessed by the 
 devil. If he could say his prayers, the uttering of the name of the 
 Lord would drive Satan out. See 1. 113. 
 
 119. genius: the attendant spirit, supposed in classical pagan 
 belief to be allotted to each person. Mediaeval belief allowed to 
 each person two attendant spirits, one good and one evil. 
 
 125. we'll have . . . bound: a common way to keep the insane. 
 
 131. May morning : the first of May, on which all sorts of pranks 
 
scene i] NOTES 109 
 
 and eccentricities were allowable. See Hone's Every Day Book, 
 pp. 271-300. 
 
 158. by and by: immediately. 
 
 179. presently: at once. 
 
 204. orchard-end : end of the garden. 
 
 204. dismount thy tuck: draw thy rapier. 
 
 215-216. dubbed . . . consideration: made a knight with 
 unhacked rapier for social, not military, considerations. 
 
 240. mortal arbitrement : deadly decision. 
 
 253. firago : virago. 
 
 254. the stuck in: a stab, or thrust. 
 
 254. mortal motion : deadly stroke. 
 
 255. on the answer he pays you : on the return thrust he repays 
 you. 
 
 268. take up the quarrel : settle the quarrel. 
 
 341. done good features shame: shamed your looks, which seem 
 to indicate a man of honor. 
 
 345. o'erflourish'd : decorated. 
 
 365. 'Slid: by God's eyelid. It was then customary to swear by 
 almost every part of Christ's body. 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Scene I 
 
 16. foolish Greek: Greeks were supposed to be a particularly 
 careless and happy people. 
 
 21. after fourteen years' purchase: a figure from one of the 
 methods of determining the value of land. Since property was 
 usually assumed to be worth twelve times its rental value, to pay 
 fourteen would be to pay a high price. 
 
 35. you are well fleshed: you are well aroused, — as an animal 
 would be by the taste of flesh. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 12-13. old Hermit of Prague : an imaginary creation of the 
 Clown, like the niece of King Gorboduc (next line) and others. 
 
 18. in this prison : Malvolio has been shut up in a dark room in 
 the house. 
 
110 TWELFTH NIGHT [act iv 
 
 37. toward the south-north : of course no real direction, though 
 the word is compounded like south-west, south-east, and the like. 
 Intended to be nonsense. 
 
 42-43. Egyptians in their fog : where mentioned in the Bible? 
 
 48. Pythagoras : who believed in transmigration (see Dictionary) 
 of souls. Malvolio's answer is quite true. 
 
 57. woodcock: believed to be the simplest of birds. See II. 
 v. 77. 
 
 61. Clo. This speech and the next two, by Maria and Sir Toby, 
 are of course not heard by Malvolio, who next hears the Clown sing- 
 ing in his natural voice. 
 
 70-71. Hey Robin . . . does. See Percy's Reliques of Ancient 
 Poetry, vol. I, Bk. ii, no. 4, of which the Clown quotes most of the 
 first two stanzas. In the old ballad the first stanza runs, — 
 
 A Robin, 
 
 Jolly Robin, 
 Tell me how thy leman doeth, 
 
 And thou shalt know of myn. 
 
 83. how fell . . . wits: how did you lose your five wits? Ac- 
 cording to the old belief, a person had five wits corresponding to his 
 five senses, — common sense, imagination, fancy, estimation, and 
 memory. 
 
 88. propertied me : made a tool of me. 
 
 91-97. Clo. ... I will. Here and in his next speech, the Clown 
 is speaking part of the time in his own voice, and part in the'voice of 
 Sir Topas. 
 
 96. God be wi' you : full form of our good-by. 
 119. old Vice. In the old Mystery Plays, the devil was a com- 
 mon figure on the stage, and he was frequently attended by the 
 Vice (as here described), who played all sorts of pranks on his 
 majesty. 
 
 126. goodman : the term used of persons below the rank of gen- 
 tleman, therefore derogatory. This is spoken by the Vice as he 
 runs away from the devil. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 6. this credit: report. 
 
 11. accident and flood of fortune: accidental flood of fortune. 
 
 12. all instance, all discourse : all example, all reason. 
 29. Whiles: until. 
 
scene i] NOTES 111 
 
 ACT V 
 
 Scene I 
 
 18-19. so that . . . affirmatives : a confusion of words made to 
 seem logical but really nonsense. 
 
 28. grace : virtue. 
 
 29. let your ... it: let your natural inclination obey it (the 
 ill counsel). 
 
 32. Primo . . . play : it is safer to take chances on three throws 
 of the dice than on one. 
 
 34. Saint Behnet: church dedicated to St. Benedict, near the 
 Globe Theatre, burned in the great fire of 1666. 
 48. bawbling: small, trifling. 
 52. very envy : even malice, even the malicious. 
 52. tongue of loss: tongues of the losers. 
 55. fraught from Candy : freight from Candia. 
 58. desperate of shame and state : reckless of disgrace and danger. 
 112. the Egyptian . . . death. Theobald points out that this is 
 probably an allusion to an old eastern romance translated into 
 English in Shakespeare's time. It is the story of Theagenes and 
 Chariclea, as told in the Ethiopica of Heliodorus. According to 
 this, a robber by name of Thyamis captured the lady Chariclea, 
 fell in love with her, and left her in his cave with other treasures. 
 Later, being overpowered by another band of robbers, he determined 
 she should fall into no other hands, so tried to kill her ; but in the 
 darkness of the cave he killed another by mistake. 
 122. in his master's spite : as a spite to his master. 
 141. strangle thy propriety: disown thine own identity. 
 159. a grizzle on thy case : gray hairs on thy skin. 
 174. incardinate: Sir Andrew's blunder for incarnate. 
 176. 'Od's lif elings : another of the numerous corruptions of 
 God's name in oaths, connected to a diminutive. 
 
 192. passy measures pavin. The pavin was a slow and. stately 
 dance, which when played faster was called passamezzo pavin. 
 203. with wit and safety: with wise consideration for my safety. 
 209. a natural perspective : a natural distortion of the thing seen. 
 A glass perspective was a glass that produced an optical illusion. 
 219. deity in my nature : godlike power in my nature. 
 229. dimension grossly clad : bodily form materially (as opposed 
 to spiritually) clad. 
 
 257. glass: the glass perspective ; see 1. 209. 
 
 263. As doth . . . fire: as the orbed continent — the hollow 
 
112 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 [act V 
 
 crystalline sphere supposed to hold the sun in its periphery, — firmly 
 holds the sun. 
 
 273. extracting: drawing out, distracting. 
 
 276. Belzebub : the devil ; usually spelt Beelzebub. 
 
 277. at the stave's 
 end : at a safe distance ; 
 ^- r - '-- : - : r : -.'- J; ' : '"'^:^^.. a phrase used infight- 
 
 ing with a quarter- 
 sr^gSlm ._ ~" - staff. (Gurth used one 
 
 > r i|j j|- _ '"""; to advantage in ch. xi 
 
 '\$MS!gn^miA of Ivanhoe; and the 
 
 Friar always carried 
 one.)' 
 
 322. in the modesty 
 of honour : with mod- 
 erate regard for honor. 
 
 348. parts : acts, or 
 conduct. 
 
 363. whirligig of 
 
 wheel of For- 
 See II. iv. 85. 
 his : its. 
 golden time 
 
 exceedingly 
 time makes 
 
 time: 
 tune. 
 
 363. 
 
 368. 
 
 convents : 
 favorable 
 it 
 
 FIGHTING WITH QUARTERSTAVES 
 
 convenient. 
 
 375. (Sings) : a song 
 and dance by the 
 Clown, who was popu- 
 lar in such a perform- 
 ance. 
 
 GENERAL TOPICS FROM WHICH SPECIAL TOPICS FOR 
 PAPERS MAY BE DERIVED 
 
 I. Shakespeare's Use of Men's Clothes to Disguise Women. 
 How frequent? How effective? 
 
 II. Duelling in Shakespeare's Plays. 
 
 III. Fools, Jesters, and Clowns in Shakespeare's Plays. 
 
 IV. Boy-actors, especially in Women's Parts. 
 V. Time-duration in this Play. 
 
 VI. The Foreign Atmosphere of Illyria. (Compare with that 
 of other Italian plays.) 
 
 VII. Which Characters are Plausible? Convincing? 
 VIII. Which Situations are Plausible? Convincing? 
 IX. Compare or contrast characters in this play with similar ones 
 in As You Like It. 
 
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 Treatment Date: Feb. 2009 
 
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