ARKCODEX
Act II, Scene 5
1Olivia’sgarden.
2Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
3Sir TobyCome thy ways, Signior Fabian.
4FabianNay, I’ll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
5Sir TobyWouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
6FabianI would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o’ favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
7Sir TobyTo anger him we’ll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?
8Sir AndrewAn we do not, it is pity of our lives.
9Sir TobyHere comes the little villain.
10Enter Maria.
11How now, my metal of India!
12MariaGet ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio’s coming down this walk: he has been yonder i’ the sun practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there throws down a letter; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. Exit.
13Enter Malvolio.
14Malvolio’Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on’t?
15Sir TobyHere’s an overweening rogue!
16FabianO, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
17Sir Andrew’Slight, I could so beat the rogue!
18Sir TobyPeace, I say.
19MalvolioTo be Count Malvolio!
20Sir TobyAh, rogue!
21Sir AndrewPistol him, pistol him.
22Sir TobyPeace, peace!
23MalvolioThere is example for’t; the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
24Sir AndrewFie on him, Jezebel!
25FabianO, peace! now he’s deeply in: look how imagination blows him.
26MalvolioHaving been three months married to her, sitting in my state—
27Sir TobyO, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
28MalvolioCalling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping—
29Sir TobyFire and brimstone!
30FabianO, peace, peace!
31MalvolioAnd then to have the humour of state; and after a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I would they should do theirs, to for my kinsman Toby—
32Sir TobyBolts and shackles!
33FabianO peace, peace, peace! now, now.
34MalvolioSeven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind up my watch, or play with my—some rich jewel. Toby approaches; courtesies there to me—
35Sir TobyShall this fellow live?
36FabianThough our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.
37MalvolioI extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control—
38Sir TobyAnd does not Toby take you a blow o’ the lips then?
39MalvolioSaying, “Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech,”—
40Sir TobyWhat, what?
41Malvolio“You must amend your drunkenness.”
42Sir TobyOut, scab!
43FabianNay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
44Malvolio“Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight,”—
45Sir AndrewThat’s me, I warrant you.
46Malvolio“One Sir Andrew,”—
47Sir AndrewI knew ’twas I; for many do call me fool.
48MalvolioWhat employment have we here? Taking up the letter.
49FabianNow is the woodcock near the gin.
50Sir TobyO, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!
51MalvolioBy my life, this is my lady’s hand: these be her very c’s, her u’s and her t’s; and thus makes she her great p’s. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
52Sir AndrewHer c’s, her u’s and her t’s: why that?
53MalvolioReads. “To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes:”—her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: ’tis my lady. To whom should this be?
54FabianThis wins him, liver and all.
55MalvolioReads.
Jove knows I love:
“No man must know.” What follows? the numbers altered! “No man must know:” if this should be thee, Malvolio?
But who?
Lips, do not move;
No man must know.
56Sir TobyMarry, hang thee, brock!
57MalvolioReads.
I may command where I adore;
But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore:
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
58FabianA fustian riddle!
59Sir TobyExcellent wench, say I.
60Malvolio“M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.” Nay, but first, let me see, let me see, let me see.
61FabianWhat dish o’ poison has she dressed him!
62Sir TobyAnd with what wing the staniel cheques at it!
63Malvolio“I may command where I adore.” Why, she may command me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity; there is no obstruction in this: and the end—what should that alphabetical position portend? If I could make that resemble something in me—Softly! M, O, A, I—
64Sir TobyO, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent.
65FabianSowter will cry upon’t for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.
66MalvolioM—Malvolio; M—why, that begins my name.
67FabianDid not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.
68MalvolioM—but then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: a should follow, but o does.
69FabianAnd o shall end, I hope.
70Sir TobyAy, or I’ll cudgel him, and make him cry O!
71MalvolioAnd then I comes behind.
72FabianAy, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.
73MalvolioM, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose. Reads.
“If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ’em. Thy Fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee,
“The Fortunate-Unhappy.”
Daylight and champain discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript. Reads.
“Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.”
Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do everything that thou wilt have me. Exit.
74FabianI will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
75Sir TobyI could marry this wench for this device.
76Sir AndrewSo could I too.
77Sir TobyAnd ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.
78Sir AndrewNor I neither.
79FabianHere comes my noble gull-catcher.
80Reenter Maria.
81Sir TobyWilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck?
82Sir AndrewOr o’ mine either?
83Sir TobyShall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bondslave?
84Sir AndrewI’ faith, or I either?
85Sir TobyWhy, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad.
86MariaNay, but say true; does it work upon him?
87Sir TobyLike aqua-vitae with a midwife.
88MariaIf you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me.
89Sir TobyTo the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!
90Sir AndrewI’ll make one too. Exeunt.