Twelfth Night: Or What You Will Page #5

and leave me to my hearing.

- Give me your hand, sir.

- My duty, madam, and most humble service.

-What's your name?

- Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

- You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

- And he is yours, and his must needs be yours.

For him, I think not on him...

for his thoughts, Would they were blanks,

rather than fill'd with me!

- I come to whet your gentle thoughts on his behalf.

- 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 myself,

my servant and, I fear me, you

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?

- So, let me hear you speak.

- I pity you.

That's a degree to love.

No, not a grize.

For 'tis a vulgar proof,

That very oft we pity enemies.

Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.

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 alike

to reap a proper man.

There lies your way, due west.

Then westward-ho!

You'll nothing, madam,

to my lord by me?

Stay!

I prithee, tell me

what thou thinkest of me.

That you do think you are

not what you are.

- If I think so, I think the same of you.

- Then think you right: I am not what I am.

I would you was

as I would have you be!

Would it be better, madam, than I am?

I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful

In the contempt and anger of his lip!

Grace and good disposition

Attend your ladyship!

Cesario, by the roses

of the spring,

By maidhood, honour,

truth and every thing,

I love thee so, that,

...maugre all thy pride,

nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.

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.

Yet come again for thou perhaps mayst move

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

- I could not stay behind you...

- My kind Antonio!

And not all love to see you,

you sir are a stranger to these parts...

I can no other answer make

but thanks, And thanks.

and oft good turns

are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay.

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.

I do not without danger walk these streets...

Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst Orsino his galleys

I did some service...

of such note indeed, that were I

ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd.

Belike you slew

great number of his people.?

For which, if I be lapsed in this place,

I shall pay dear.

- Do not then walk too open.

- You shall find me at the Elephant.

Why I your purse?

Haply your eye shall light upon some toy

You have desire to purchase

and your store,

I think, is not for idle markets, sir.

- At the Elephant.

- I do remember.

if ever thou shalt love, remember me

For such as I am all true lovers are,

Unstaid and skittish in all motions else.

Save in the constant image

of the creature that is beloved.

O, fellow, come, play that piece

of song we had last night.

Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain

The spinsters and the knitters in the sun

do use to chant it...

Come away,

come away, death,

And in sad cypress

let me be laid

Fly away breath

Fly away, fly away breath

I am slain

by a fair cruel maid.

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!

- There's for thy pains.

- No pains, sir:
I take pleasure in singing, sir.

- I'll pay thy pleasure then.

- Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid,

one time or another.

Now, the melancholy god protect you

for your mind is a very opal.

Farewell.

Once more, Cesario,

Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty!

- But if she cannot love you, sir?

- I cannot so be answer'd.

Sooth, but you must.

Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, hath for your love

a 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?

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,

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.

- Ay, but I know...

- What dost thou know?

Too well what love women to men may owe:

In faith, they are as true of heart as we.

My father had a daughter loved a man,

As it might be,

... perhaps, were I a woman,

I should your lordship.

And what's her history?

A blank, my lord.

She never told her love,

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,

Feed on her damask cheek.

she pined 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.

But died thy sister

of her love, my boy?

I am all the daughters

of my father's house,

And all the brothers too.

and yet I know not.

I'll do my best

To woo your lady...

yet, a barful strife!

Whoe'er I woo,

myself would be his wife.

No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.

Thy reason, dear venom,

give thy reason.

Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the

count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me!

- I saw't i' the orchard.!

- Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that.

As plain as I see you now.

This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

'Slight, will you make an ass o' me?

She did show favour to the youth in your sight only

to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour.

You should then have accosted her

and banged the youth into dumbness.

you are now sailed

into the north of my lady's opinion.

unless you do redeem it by

some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.

It must be with valour for policy

I hate:
I had as lief be a puritan as a politician..

Why, then, challenge me

the count's youth to fight with him

hurt him in eleven places:

my niece shall take note of it.

there is no love-broker in the world

can more prevail than report of valour.

- Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

- Go, write it in a martial hand be curst and brief!

it is no matter how witty,

so it be eloquent.

about it!

Taunt him with the licence of ink!

Where shall I find you?

We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go.

This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

I have been dear to him, lad,

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