Twelfth Night: Or What You Will Page #3

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.

I am no fee'd post, lady

keep your purse:

My master, not myself,

lacks recompense.

Farewell, fair cruelty.

'What is your parentage?'

'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:

I am a gentleman.'

I'll be sworn thou art

Nay, not too fast.

Unless the master were the man.

How now!

Even so quickly may one catch the plague?

Methinks I feel this youth's perfections

With an invisible and subtle stealth

To creep in at mine eyes.

Well, let it be.

What ho, Malvolio!

Here, madam, at your service.

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.

-Madam, I will.

I do I know not what, and fear to find

Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.

Fate, show thy force:

ourselves we do not owe

What is decreed must be,

and be this so.

Were not you even now

with the Countess Olivia?

Even now, sir on a moderate pace

I have since arrived but hither.

he 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 desperate assurance she will none of him:

-Well, receive it so!

- She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.

Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her and her

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.

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 methought

her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts

distractedly.

She loves me!

Sure...

I am the man!

Will you stay no longer?

-Let me yet know of you... wither you are bound!

-No.

You must know of me then, Antonio.

My name is Sebastian.

My father was that Sebastian of Messaline,

whom I know you have heard of.

He left behind him myself

and a sister... Viola.

both born in an hour:

would we had so ended!

but you, sir, altered that...

Before you took me from the breach

of the sea was my sister drowned.

alas the day!

A lady, sir, though it was said

she much resembled me -

was yet of many

accounted beautiful.

O good Antonio,

forgive me your trouble.

If you will not murder me for my love,

let me be your servant.

Desire it not!

Fare ye well at once!

I am bound to

the Count Orsino's court: farewell.

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.

O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,

Methought she purged the air of pestilence!

That instant was I turn'd into a hart

And my desires,

like fell and cruel hounds,

E'er since pursue me.

Approach! Sir Andrew!

Maria!

Maria!

Marian, I say! a stoup of wine!

Did you never see the picture

of 'we three'?

Welcome, ass!

Three happy boys we

Three happy boys we

Sir Tobias!

Tillyvally. Lady!

Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

... and Malvolio's

a Peg-a-Ramsey!

Malvolio's nose is no whipstock,

and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

Excellent!

Now a song!

Come on there is sixpence for you:

let's have a song.

That old and antique song

we heard last night:

Methought it did relieve my passion much,

He is not here, so please your lordship

that should sing it.

-Who was it?

-Feste, my lord.

a fool that the lady

Olivia's father took much delight in.

- Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

-A love-song.

-A love-song!

- Ay, ay:
I care not for good life.

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

O, stay and hear

your true love's coming,

How dost thou like this tune?

It gives a very echo to the seat

Where Love is throned.

Thou dost speak masterly.

Every wise man's son doth know.

Excellent good, i' faith!

Good! Good!

What is love? 'tis not hereafter

Present mirth hath present laughter

My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye

Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves:

Hath it not, boy?

- A little, by your favour.

- What kind of woman is't?

Of your complexion.

She is not worth thee, then.

What years, i' faith??

-About your years, my lord.

Too old by heaven!

let still the woman take

An elder than herself: so wears she to him,

For, boy...

however we do praise ourselves,

Our fancies are more

giddy and unfirm,

More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,

Than women's are.

-I think it well, my lord.

-Then let thy love be younger than thyself,

For women are as roses,

whose fair flower,

being once display'd,

doth fall that very hour.

And so they are

alas, that they are so

To die, even when they to perfection grow!

What's to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,

Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Youth's a stuff will not endure.

A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

- A contagious breath.

- Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

But...

... shall we make the welkin dance indeed?

Shall we?!

There lives a man in Babylon

'O, the twelfth day of December,'

my true love said to me...

My masters... are you mad?

Have yeno wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like

tinkers at this time of night?

Do ye make an

alehouse of my lady's house?

Is there no respect of place, persons, nor

time in you?

We did keep time, sir, in our catches.

Sneck up!

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...

... misdemeanors, you

are welcome to the house if not,...

... she is very willing to bid

you farewell.

'Farewell, dear heart,

since I must needs be gone.'

'His eyes do show

his days are almost done.'

- 'But I will never die.'

- Sir Toby, there you lie.

- This is much credit to you!

- 'Shall I bid him go?'

'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?'

'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'

Out o' tune, sir: ye lie.

Art any more than a

steward?

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous...

...there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Yes, by Saint Anne,

and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.

Thou'rt i' the right.

Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs.

A stoup of wine, Maria!

Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour-

at any

thing more than contempt,

you would not give means

for this uncivil rule:.

she shall know of it...

... by this hand!

Go shake your ears.

-Bolts and shackles!

-be patient... for tonight!

For Monsieur Malvolio...

if I do not make him a common recreation...

... do not think I have wit enough to lie

straight in my bed: I know I can do it.

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