Twelfth Night: Or What You Will Page #2

The lady bade take away the fool

therefore, I say again, take her away.

Sir, I bade them take away you.

Misprision in the highest degree!

Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.

- Can you do it?

- Dexterously, good madonna.

Make your proof.

I must catechise you for it, madonna.

Good my mouse

of virtue, answer me.

Well, sir, for want

of other idleness,

Good madonna,

why mournest thou?

Good fool, for my

brother's death.

- I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

- I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

The more fool, madonna, to mourn for

your brother's soul being in heaven.

Take away the fool, gentlemen.

What think you of this fool, Malvolio?

Doth he not mend?

Yes, and shall do till

the pangs of death shake him:

infirmity, that decays the wise,

doth ever make the better fool.

God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity,

for the better increasing your folly!

How say you to that,

gentle Malvolio?

I marvel your ladyship takes delight

in such a barren rascal...

Look you now, he's out

of his guard already.

unless you laugh and minister occasion

to him, he is gagged.

Oh, you are sick of

self-love, Malvolio,

and taste with a

distempered appetite.

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.

Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman

much desires to speak with you.

- From the Count Orsino, is it?

- I know not, madam.

- Who of my people hold him in delay?

- Sir Toby.

- he speaks nothing but madman.

- 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...

... and people dislike it.

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.

By mine honour, half drunk.

What is he at the gate, cousin?

A gentleman.

What gentleman?

-Tis a gentleman...

a plague o' these pickle-herring!

- How now, sot!

- Good Sir Tobias!...!

Cousin, cousin, how have you come

so early by this lethargy?

Lechery! I defy lechery.

- There's one at the gate.

- Ay, marry, what is he?

Let him be the devil,

an he will, I care not

Give me faith, say I.

Well, it's all one.

- What's a drunken man like?

- Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man...

one draught above heat makes him a fool

the second mads him

and a third drowns him.

Go thou and seek the crowner,

he's drowned...

Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you.

I told him you were sick I told him you were asleep

- Tell him he shall not speak with me.

- Has been told so

and he says, he'll stand at your door like a

sheriff's post, but he'll speak with you.

- What kind o' man is he?

- Why, of mankind.

- What manner of man?

- Of very ill manner he'll speak with you, will you or no.

- Of what personage and years is he?

- Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy

one would think his mother's milk

were scarce out of him.

Let him approach:

call in my gentlewoman.

Gentlewoman...

my lady calls.

We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

Give me my veil.

Well... The honourable lady of the house...

... which is she?

Speak to me I shall answer for her.

Your will?

Most radiant, exquisite and unmatched beauty,...

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. I have taken great pains to learn it.

Whence came you, sir?

that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me

modest assurance if you be the lady of the house,

- Are you a comedian?

- No, my profound heart!

- Are you the lady of the house?

- I am.

- I will on with my speech in your praise

- Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.

- Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.

- It is the more like to be feigned...

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.

Will you hoist sail, sir?

Here lies your way.

No, good swabber

I am to hull here a little longer.

- Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady?

- Speak your office.

It alone concerns your ear.

I bring no overture of war,

my words are of peace as matter.

Yet you began rudely.

What are you? what would you?

The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I

learned from my entertainment.

What I am, and what I would,

are as secret as maidenhead...

to your ears, divinity,

to any other's, profanation.

Give us the place alone...

we will hear this divinity.

Now Sir, what is your text?

- Most sweet lady,

-A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.

-Where lies your text?

-In Orsino's bosom.

- In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?

-in the first of his heart.

O, I have read it: it is heresy.

-Have you no more to say?

-Good madam, let me see your face.

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?

Excellently done,

if God did all.

'Tis in grain, sir

'twill endure wind and weather.

'Tis beauty truly blent,

Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,

If you will lead these graces to the grave

And leave the world no copy.

O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted.

I will giveout divers schedules of my beauty:

it shall be inventoried,

and every particle and utensil labelled to my will:

as, item, two lips, indifferent red

item, two brown eyes, with lids to them

item, one neck, one chin, and so forth.

I see you what you are, you are too proud

But, if you were the devil, you are fair.

My lord and master loves you:

O, such love could be but recompensed,

though you were crown'd the nonpareil of beauty!

How does he love me?

With adorations

fertile tears,

With groans that thunder love,

with sighs of fire.

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

learn'd and valiant

but yet I cannot love him

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.

Why, what would you?

Make me a willow cabin

at your gate,

And call upon my soul

within the house

Write loyal cantons

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

Cry out...

"Olivia"!

O, You should not rest

Between the elements of air and earth,

But you should pity me!

You might do much.

What is your parentage?

Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:

I am a gentleman.

Get you to your lord

I cannot love him:

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