OLIVIA

Take the fool away. Go too, you are a dry fool: I'll no more of you: be sides you grow dishonest. Sir, I bade them take away you. Can you do it? Make your proof. Well sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof. Good fool, for my brother's death. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. What think you of this fool Malvolio, does he not mend? How say you to that Malvolio ? Oh you are ficke of selflove Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guitless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts, that you deem Cannon bullets: There is no slan der in and allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing, in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. From the Count Orsino, is it? Who of my people hold him in delay Fetch him off I pray you, he speaks nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you Malvolio ; If it be a suit from the Count, I am sick, or not at home. What you will, to dismiss it. Now you see sir, how your fooling grows old, & peo ple dislike it. By mine honour half drunk. What is he at the gate Cousin? A Gentleman? What Gentleman? Cousin, Cousin, how have you come so early by this Lethargy? I marry, what is he? What's a drunken man Like, fool? Go thou and seek the Crowner, and let him sit of my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drink: he's drowned: go look after him. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. What kind of man is he? What manner of man? Of what personage, and years is he? Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman. Give me my veil: come throw it over my face, We'll once more hear Orsinos Embassy. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: your will. Whence came you sir? Are you a Comedian? If I do not usurp my self, I am. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise. It is the more Like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I herd you were saucy at my gates, & allowed your approach rather to wonder at you, then to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone: if you have reason, be brief: it's not that time of Moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue. Sure you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you? Give us the place alone, We will hear this divinity. Now sir, what is your text? A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your Text? In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? Oh, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say? 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: Is't not well done? It's in grain sir, it'll endure wind and uvea there. Oh sir, I will not be so hardhearted: I will give out diverse scedules of my beauty. It shall be Inventoried and every particle and vtensile labeled to my will: As, Item two lips indifferent red, Item two gray eyes, with lids to them: Item, one neck, one chin, & so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? How does he love me? Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot love him Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; In voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant, And in dimension, and the shape of nature, A gracious person; But yet I cannot love him: He might have took his answer long ago. Why, what would you? You might do much: What is your Parentage? 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. What is your Parentage? Above my Fortune's, 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 fivefold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft, Unless the Master were the man. How now? Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Me thinks I feel this youths perfections With and invisible, and subtle stealth To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. What hoa, Malvolio. Run after that same peevish Messenger The Counts 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 Hope's, I am not for him: If that the youth will come this way to morrow, I'll give him reasons for't: High thee Malvolio. I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind: Fate, show thy force, our selves we do not owe, What is decreed, must be: and be this so. Let the Garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. Give me your hand sir. What is your name? My servant sir? 'Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was called compliment: you are servant to the Count Orsino youth. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were blanks, rather then filled with me. Oh by your leave I pray you. I bade you never speak again of him; But would you undertake another suit I had rather hear you, to solicit that, Then Music from the spheres. Give me leave, beseech you: I did send, After the last enchantment you did hear, A Ring in chase of you. So did I abuse My self, my servant, and I fear me you: Under your hard construction must I fit, To force that on you in a shameful cunning 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 That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving Enough is shown, a Cypress, not a bosom, Hides my heart: so let me hear you speak. That's a degree to love. Why then me thinks it's time to smile again: Oh world, how apt the poor are to be proud? If one should be a prey, how much the better To fallen before the Lion, then the Wolf? 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, endue West. Stay: I prithee tell me what thou thinkest of me? If I think so, I think the same of you. I would you were, as I would have you be. Oh what a deal of scorn, looks beautiful? In the contempt and anger of his lip, A murderous gilded shows not it self more soon, Then love that would seem hid: Loves night, is noon. Cesario, by the Roses of the Spring, By maid-hood, honour, truth, and every thing, I love thee so, that maugre 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: But rather reason thus, with reason fetter; Love sought, is good: but given unsought, is better. Yet come again: for thou perhaps mayest move That heart which now abhors, to Like his love. 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, then begged, or borrowed. I speak too loud: Where's Malvolio, he is sad, and civil, And suits well for a servant with my Fortune's, Where is Malvolio ? Why what's the matter, does he rave? Go call him hither. I am as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be. How now Malvolio ? Smilest thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. Wilt thou go to bed Malvolio ? God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft? What meanest thou by that Malvolio ? Would? What sayest thou? Heaven restore thee. Thy yellow stockings? Cross gartered? Am I made? Why this is very Midsummer madness. I'll come to him. Good Maria, let this fellow be look worser too. Where's my Cosine Toby, let some of my people have a special care of him, I would not have him miscarry for the half of my Dowry. I have said too much unto a heart of stone, And laid mine honour too vnchary on't: There's something in me that reproves my fault: But such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks reproof. Here, wear this Jewel for me, 'tis my picture: Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you: 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. How with mine honour may I give him that, Which I have given to you. Well come again to morrow: far-thee-well, A Fiend Like thee might bear my soul to hell. Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the Mountains, and the barbarous Caves, Where manners never were preached: out of my sighed. Be not offended, deer Cesario : Rudesbey be gone. I prithee gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion sway In this uncivil, and unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This Ruffian hath botched up, that thou thereby Mayest smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but go: Do not deny, beshrew his soul for me, He started one poor heart of mine, in thee. Nay come I prithee, would thoud'st be ruled by me Oh say so, and so be. 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, Plighted me the full assurance of your faith, That my most jealous, and too doubtful soul May live at peace. He shall conceal it, While you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keep According to my birth, what do you say? Then led the way good father, & heavens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine. What would my Lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. What do you say Cesario ? Good my Lord. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after Music. Still so constant Lord. Where goes Cesario? Aye me detested, how am I beguiled? Hast thou forgotten thy self? Is it so long? Call forth the holy Father. Whither my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay. I Husband. Can he that deny? Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear, That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Fear not Cesario, take thy Fortune's up, Be that thou knowest thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fearest. Oh 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 it's ripe: what thou dost know Hath newly passed, between this youth, and me. Oh do not swear, Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. What's the matter? Who has done this sir Andrew ? Away with him? Who hath made this havoc with them? Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked too. Most wonderful. He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio hither, And yet alas, now I remember me, They say poor Gentleman, he's much distract. A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance, clearly banished his. How does he sirrah? Open't, and read it. How now, art thou mad? Prithee read in thy right wits. Read it you, sirrah. Did he write this? See him delivered Fabian, bring him hither: My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister, as a wife, One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, Here at my house, and at my proper cost. A sister, you are she. I my Lord, this same: How now Malvolio ? Have I Malvolio ? No. 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 camest in smiling, And in such forms, which here were presupposed Upon thee in the Letter: prithee be content, This practice hath most shrewdly passed upon thee: But when we know the grounds, and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the Plaintiff and the Judge Of thine own cause. Alas poor Fool, how have they baffled thee? He hath be most notoriously abused. Even what it please my Lord, that shall become him