9
ACT IV.
SCENE I. The Street before Olivia’s House.
Enter Sebastian and Clown.
CLOWN.
Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
SEBASTIAN.
Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow.
Let me be clear of thee.
CLOWN.
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.
SEBASTIAN.
I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else,
Thou know’st not me.
CLOWN.
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 lubber, the world, 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?
SEBASTIAN.
I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me.
There’s money for thee; if you tarry longer
I shall give worse payment.
CLOWN.
By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get
themselves a good report—after fourteen years’ purchase.
Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby and Fabian.
SIR ANDREW.
Now sir, have I met you again? There’s for you.
[Striking Sebastian.]
SEBASTIAN.
Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there.
Are all the people mad?
[Beating Sir Andrew.]
SIR TOBY.
Hold, sir, or I’ll throw your dagger o’er the house.
CLOWN.
This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of your coats for
twopence.
[Exit Clown.]
SIR TOBY.
Come on, sir, hold!
SIR ANDREW.
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.
SEBASTIAN.
Let go thy hand!
SIR TOBY.
Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you
are well fleshed. Come on.
SEBASTIAN.
I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now?
If thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
[Draws.]
SIR TOBY.
What, what? Nay, then, I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from
you.
[Draws.]
Enter Olivia.
OLIVIA.
Hold, Toby! On thy life I charge thee hold!
SIR TOBY.
Madam.
OLIVIA.
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
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
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.
Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me,
He started one poor heart of mine, in thee.
SEBASTIAN.
What relish is in this? How runs the stream?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
OLIVIA.
Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou’dst be ruled by me!
SEBASTIAN.
Madam, I will.
OLIVIA.
O, say so, and so be!
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. A Room in Olivia’s House.
Enter Maria and Clown.
MARIA.
Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir
Topas the curate. Do it quickly. I’ll call Sir Toby the whilst.
[Exit Maria.]
CLOWN.
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 competitors enter.
Enter Sir Toby and Maria.
SIR TOBY.
Jove bless thee, Master Parson.
CLOWN.
Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, 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 TOBY.
To him, Sir Topas.
CLOWN.
What ho, I say! Peace in this prison!
SIR TOBY.
The knave counterfeits well. A good knave.
Malvolio within.
MALVOLIO.
Who calls there?
CLOWN.
Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.
MALVOLIO.
Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.
CLOWN.
Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? Talkest thou nothing but of
ladies?
SIR TOBY.
Well said, Master Parson.
MALVOLIO.
Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad.
They have laid me here in hideous darkness.
CLOWN.
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?
MALVOLIO.
As hell, Sir Topas.
CLOWN.
Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clerestories
toward the south-north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of
obstruction?
MALVOLIO.
I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark.
CLOWN.
Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but ignorance, in which thou
art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.
MALVOLIO.
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.
CLOWN.
What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wildfowl?
MALVOLIO.
That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
CLOWN.
What think’st thou of his opinion?
MALVOLIO.
I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.
CLOWN.
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, lest thou
dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.
MALVOLIO.
Sir Topas, Sir Topas!
SIR TOBY.
My most exquisite Sir Topas!
CLOWN.
Nay, I am for all waters.
MARIA.
Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown. He sees thee not.
SIR TOBY.
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. Come by and by to my chamber.
[Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria.]
CLOWN.
[Singing.]
Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
Tell me how thy lady does.
MALVOLIO.
Fool!
CLOWN.
My lady is unkind, perdy.
MALVOLIO.
Fool!
CLOWN.
Alas, why is she so?
MALVOLIO.
Fool, I say!
CLOWN.
She loves another—
Who calls, ha?
MALVOLIO.
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.
CLOWN.
Master Malvolio?
MALVOLIO.
Ay, good fool.
CLOWN.
Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
MALVOLIO.
Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool,
as thou art.
CLOWN.
But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a
fool.
MALVOLIO.
They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses,
and do all they can to face me out of my wits.
CLOWN.
Advise you what you say: the minister is here. [As Sir Topas] Malvolio,
Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore. Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave
thy vain bibble-babble.
MALVOLIO.
Sir Topas!
CLOWN.
[As Sir Topas] Maintain no words with him, good fellow. [As
himself] Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God buy you, good Sir Topas. [As Sir
Topas] Marry, amen. [As himself] I will sir, I will.
MALVOLIO.
Fool, fool, fool, I say!
CLOWN.
Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you.
MALVOLIO.
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.
CLOWN.
Well-a-day that you were, sir!
MALVOLIO.
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.
CLOWN.
I will help you to’t. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed? or do you but
counterfeit?
MALVOLIO.
Believe me, I am not. I tell thee true.
CLOWN.
Nay, I’ll ne’er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light,
and paper, and ink.
MALVOLIO.
Fool, I’ll requite it in the highest degree: I prithee be gone.
CLOWN.
[Singing.]
I am gone, sir, and anon, sir,
I’ll be with you again,
In a trice, like to the old Vice,
Your need to sustain;
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.’
[Exit.]
SCENE III. Olivia’s Garden.
Enter Sebastian.
SEBASTIAN.
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,
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,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
And wrangle 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,
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
That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.
Enter Olivia and a Priest.
OLIVIA.
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 you are willing it shall come to note,
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth. What do you say?
SEBASTIAN.
I’ll follow this good man, and go with you,
And having sworn truth, ever will be true.
OLIVIA.
Then lead the way, good father, and heavens so shine,
That they may fairly note this act of mine!
[Exeunt.]