Twelfth Night (Shakespeare) - Directed by Kenneth Branagh

I'll tell the tale

now listen to me

With a hey ho

the wind and the rain

but merry or sad

Which shall it be?

For the rain... it raineth every day

Once upon Twelfth Night,
or what you will

aboard a ship, bound home
to Messaline

The festive company
dressed for mascarade and singing songs

to each other and amusing

delight into the rest in two young twins

the storm has forced their vessel
from her course

And now they strike
upon submerging rocks

uncertain of what two leave
and what to save

A brother and sister, often
since their father's death

have but themselves

alone in the whole world

deep currents and the
sinking bark above them

divide what had not
ever been kept apart

the poor survivors
reach an alien shore

For Messaline, with this country,
is at war.

What country, friends, is this?

This is Illyria, lady.

And what should I do in Illyria?

My brother...

he is in Elysium.

Perchance he is not drown'd?

My Lady Viola... It is perchance
that yourself were saved.

My poor brother!

Sebastian!

The war between their kingdom and ours
Too often has led to bloody arguments

We must not be discovered
in this place

Who governs here?
-The Duke. Orsino

Orsino?

I heard my father name him

he was a bachelor then.
- So he is now. Or was so very late.

It is said no woman
may approach his court

but from one month ago 'twas fresh in murmur
that he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

What's she?
-That's her! Olivia!

Daughter of a Count who
died some twelve months since

Her brother has lately also died.

And in her grief, it is said she has abjured
the sight and company of men.

O that I served that lady

That were hard to compass
Because she will admit no kind of suit,

No, not the duke's.

I prithee...

...Be my aid. For such disguise as haply
shall become the form of my intent.

I'll serve this duke:
Thou shall present me as a boy to him:

It may be worth thy pains for I can sing

And speak to him in many sorts of music

That will allow me very worth his service.

Oh, I thank thee!

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT or
WHAT YOU WILL.

If music be the food of love, play on

Give me... excess of it

... surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so...

... die.

That strain again!

it had a dying fall:

O, it came o'er my ear
like the sweet sound,

That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odour!

Enough

no more!

'Tis not so sweet now
as it was before.

How now!... what news of Olivia?
-So please my lord, I might not be admitted

But from her handmaid do return this answer:

"The element itself, till seven years' heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view "

"But, like a cloistress..."

"... all this to season a brother's dead love, which she would
keep fresh and lasting in her sad remembrance."

O, she that hath a heart
of that fine frame

To pay this debt of love but to a brother,

My Lord Orsino...

Here comes the Count!

-Who saw Cesario, ho?
-On your attendance, my lord here.

Cesario...

Thou know'st no less but all

I have unclasp'd
to thee the book even of my secret soul:

Therefore, good youth,
address thy gait unto her

Stand at her doors, and tell them : there
thy fixed foot shall grow till thou have audience.

Sure, my noble lord, if she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
as it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Be clamorous
and leap all civil bounds!

Say I do speak with her, my lord,
what then?

Then unfold
the passion of my love,

It shall become thee well
to act my woes

She will attend it better in thy youth
- I think not so, my Lord.

Dear lad, believe it

For they shall yet belie thy happy years,
That say thou art a man:

Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious

thy small pipe Is as the maiden's organ,
shrill and sound,

And all is semblative a woman's part.

I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affair.

Some three or four : attend him.

By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in
earlier o' nights

That quaffing and drinking
will undo you

I heard my lady
talk of it yesterday

and of a foolish knight that you brought in
one night here to be her wooer.

Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
- Ay, he.

- He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
- What's that to the purpose?

Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. and speaks
three or four languages word for word without book!

he's a fool and a he's great quareller.

and but that he hath the gift of a coward
he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

Sir Toby Belch!

Sir Andrew Agueface!

- How now, Sir Toby Belch!
- Sweet Sir Andrew!

God Bless you, fair shrew.

-And you too, sir.
- What's that?

- My niece's chambermaid.
- oh good Mistress Accost...

- I desire better acquaintance.
-My name is Mary.

Good Mistress Mary Accost,--

'accost' is front her, board her,

woo her, assail her.

Fare you well, gentlemen.

Is that the meaning of "accost"?

O knight when did I
see thee so put down?

What a plague means my niece,
to take the death of her brother thus?

I am sure care's
an enemy to life.

I ride home tomorrow, Sir Tobias.

"Pourquoi", my dear boy?
-What is "pourquoi"?

Do or not do?

I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues
that I have in fencing and dancing!

O, had I but followed the arts!

I am going home tomorrow.
your niece will not be seen.

or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me:
the count himself here hard by woos her.

She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
her degree, I have heard her swear't.

Tut, there's life in't,man.

I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the
strangest mind in the world

I delight in masques and revels
sometimes altogether.

- Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
- Faith, I can cut a caper.

And I think I have the back-trick simply
as strong as any man in Illyria.

Wherefore are these things hid?

wherefore have
these gifts a curtain before 'em?

why dost thou not go to church
in a galliard and come home...

... in a coranto?

Is it a world to hide virtues in?

- My lady will hang thee for thy absence.
- Let her hang me: I fear no colours.

- I can tell thee where that saying was born.
- Where, good Mistress Mary?

In the war.

Well, God give them wisdom
that have it

and those that are fools,
let them use their talents.

- You are resolute, then?
- I am resolved on two points...

That if one break, the other will hold
or, if both break, your breeches fall.

If Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a
piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Peace, you rogue,

no more o' that.

- God bless thee, lady!
- Take the fool away...

- Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
- I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest.

bid the dishonest man mend himself
if he mend, he is no longer dishonest

if he cannot, let the
botcher mend him!

Any thing that's mended
is but patched...

virtue that transgresses
is but patched with sin

and sin that amends
is but patched with virtue.

As there is no true cuckold but
calamity, so beauty's a flower.

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?
-T�is 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:

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.

Possess us, possess us
tell us something of him.

- Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.
- O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog!

The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing
constantly, but a time-pleaser

so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is
his grounds of faith that all that look on him love him

and on that vice in him will my revenge find
notable cause to work.

What wilt thou do?

I will drop in his way some obscure
epistles of love

wherein he shall find
himself most feelingly personated.

I can write very
like my lady your niece

on a forgotten matter we
can hardly make distinction of our hands.

- Excellent! I smell a device.
-I have't in my nose too.

But for this night...

To bed...

Dream on the event.

Farewell.

Good night, Penthesilea!

Before me, she's a good wench.

She's a beagle, true-bred,

and one that adores me...

what o' that?

I was adored once too.

Come, come, I'll go burn some sack
'tis too late to go to bed now

Disguise...

I see, thou art a wickedness,

Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.

How will this fadge?

As I am man,

My state is desperate for my master's love

As I am woman,

�now alas the day!�
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!

Come hither, boy!

Come, boy. Come!

How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else...

That live in her.

when liver, brain and heart,
are all supplied with one self king!

Sir, shall I to this lady?

Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste...

Tell her my love can give no place,
bide no denay.

Malvolio is
coming down this walk!

Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. Wouldst thou not
be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter
come by some notable shame?

He brought me out o' favour with
my lady about a bear-baiting here.

Get ye all three into the box-tree!

"My Lady..."

"My Lady. Countess..."

for here comes the trout
that must be caught with tickling.

'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

'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!

-To be Count Malvolio!...
-Ah, rogue!

Having been three months married to her,

-... sitting in my state...
-O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!!

Calling my officers about me,
in my branched velvet gown...

having come from a day-bed,
where I have left

Olivia sleeping,...

and then, after a demure
travel of regard,

telling them I know my
place as I would they should do theirs,

-to ask for my kinsman: Toby!

I frown the while
and perchance wind up my watch,...

... or play with my -

- some rich jewel.

Toby approaches courtesies there to me,
I extend my hand to him...

...thus saying, 'Cousin Toby,
You must amend your drunkenness!'

Out, scab!

What employment have we here?

By my life, this is my lady's hand!

"'To the unknown... beloved"

"... this, and my good wishes."

By your leave, wax.
Soft!...

and the impressure her Lucrece,
with which she uses to seal.

'tis my lady.

To whom should this be?

"Jove knows I love: But who? "

"Lips, do not move
No man must know. "

"'No man must know "?

if this should be thee, Malvolio?!

"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. "

-M.O.A.I...
- Excellent wench, say I.

Let me see... "M.O.A.I."

" I may command where I adore."

Why, she may command
me: I serve her she is my lady.

and the end,-what should
that alphabetical position portend? "M.O.A.I"?

Moai... Moa... i... M!

M,- Malvolio M,- why, that begins my name!

A should follow but O does.

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.

"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.."

"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 co-...

"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 champaign
discovers not more.

I will be proud,
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.

Jove and my stars be praised!

Here is yet a postscript!

"Y'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.!

Jove, I thank thee!

Jove, I am happy!

- I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands!
- I could marry this wench for this device!

-Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
-Or o' mine either?

- Nay, but say true does it work upon him?
- Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

Then, mark his first approach
before my lady:

he will come to
her in yellow stockings,

and 'tis a colour she abhors!

Save thee, friend,
dost thou live by thy music?

- No, sir, I live by the church.
-Art thou a churchman?

No such matter, sir: I do live by the church
for I do live at my house,

and my house doth stand by
the church.

Hold, there's expenses for thee.

Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair,
send thee a beard!

By my troth, I'll tell thee,
I am almost sick for one

though I would not have it
grow on my chin.

Is thy
lady within?

I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir,
to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

I understand you, sir 'tis well begged.

The matter, I hope, is not great, sir,
begging but a beggar:

Cressida was a beggar.

My lady is within, sir.
I will construe to her whence you come

- Save you, gentleman.
- And you, sir.

-Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
- Et vous aussi votre serviteur.

I hope, sir, you are
as I am yours.

my niece is desirous
you should enter, if your trade be to her.

your niece, sir is the list of my voyage.
But we are prevented.

Most excellent accomplished lady,
the heavens rain odours on you!

'Rain odours'? well.
That youth's a rare courtier:

My matter hath no voice, to your own
most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:'
I'll get 'em all three all ready.

Let the garden door be shut,
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,
some two thousand strong, or so.

Yond gull Malvolio is
turned heathen.

- He's in yellow stockings.
- And cross-gartered?

How now... Malvolio...?

Sweet lady, ho, ho.

Smilest thou?
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does make some
obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering.

but what of that? if it please the eye of one...

- 'Please one, and please all.'
- Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?

Not black in my mind,...
though yellow in my legs.

It did come to his hands,

and commands shall be executed

I think we do know
the sweet Roman hand.

Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

To bed?

ay, sweet-heart.

and I'll come to thee.

God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so
and kiss thy hand so oft?

How do you, Malvolio?

Why appear you with this
ridiculous boldness before my lady?

'Be not afraid of greatness:'
'twas well writ.

'Some achieve greatness, and some
have greatness thrust upon them.'

'Remember who commended
thy yellow stockings,'

'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so '
'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'

Why, this is very
midsummer madness!

Madam, the young gentleman
of the Count Orsino's is returned.

I'll come to him.

Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to.

Where's my cousin Toby?
Let some of my people have a special care of him

O, ho! do you come near me now?

no worse man than
Sir Toby to look to me!

she sends him on purpose, that I may appear
stubborn to him I have limed her!!!

but it is Jove's doing,
and Jove make me thankful!

And when she went away now, 'Let this fellow be looked to:'
fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow.

Why, every thing
adheres together!

What can be said?

Nothing that can be...

... can come between me and the full
prospect of my hopes.

If all the devils of hell be drawn in little,
yet I'll speak to him.

Go off I discard you.

Sir Toby, my lady prays you
to have a care of him.

Ah, ha! does she so?

- What, man! defy the devil!
- Do you know what you say?

La you, an you speak ill of the devil,
how he takes it at heart!

-Carry his water to the wise woman.
- it shall be done to-morrow morning.

- My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.
- How now, mistress!

- let me enjoy my private.
- Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray!

My prayers, minx!

- No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.
-you are idle shallow things...

I am not of your element: you shall know
more hereafter.

Is't possible?

If this were played upon a stage now, I could
condemn it as an improbable fiction.

Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound.

- Why, we shall make him mad indeed.
- My niece is already in the belief that he's mad

we may carry it thus,
for our pleasure and his penance.

a scurvy fellow thou art!

More matter for a May morning.

Here's the challenge, read it.

- I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't.
- Is't so saucy?

'Youth, whatsoever thou art,
thou art but a scurvy fellow.'

Good, and valiant.

"Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my
sight she uses thee kindly."

"but that is not the matter
I challenge thee for"

Very brief, and to exceeding good sense...

" I will waylay thee going home where if it
be thy chance to kill me,..."

Good!

"...Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain."

Still you keep o' the windy side
of the law: good.

"Fare thee well and God have mercy upon
one of our souls!"

"He may have mercy upon mine but
my hope is better"

"and so look to thyself."

"Thy friend,..."

"... as thou usest him,
and thy sworn enemy,."

ANDREW AGUECHEEK.

If this letter move him not, his legs cannot!
I'll give't him.

He is now in some commerce with my lady,
but will by and by depart.

Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner the
orchard like a bum-baily.

so soon as ever thou seest him, draw
and, as thou drawest swear horrible! Away!

Nay, let me alone for swearing!

I will deliver his challenge by
word of mouth.

And I beseech you come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny?

Nothing but this
your true love for my master.

How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you?

I will acquit you!

Thou art a foolish fellow...

Will you make me believe
that I am not sent for you?

Go to, go to!...

Well, come again to-morrow:
fare thee well!

A fiend like thee
might bear my soul to hell!

-Let me be clear of thee!
-Well... Hell not.

- Gentleman, God save thee.
- And you, sir.

That defence thou hast,
betake thee to't.

of what nature the wrongs are thou hast
done him, I know not but thy intercepter

...bloody as the hunter,
attends thee at the orchard-end.

You mistake, sir I am sure no man
hath any quarrel to me.

You'll find it otherwise,
I assure you.

therefore, if you hold your life at any price,
betake you to your guard

for your opposite hath in him what
youth, strength...

...skill and wrath can furnish man withal.

- I beseech you, sir, what is he?
- he is a devil in private brawl.

souls and bodies
hath he divorced three.

I will return again into the house and
desire some conduct of the lady.

I am no fighter.

I beseech you to know what my offence to him is:
it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.

Signior Fabian, stay you by this
gentleman till my return.

Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?

I know the knight is incensed against you,
even to a mortal arbitrement...

Why, man, he's a very devil
I have not seen such a firago.

I had a pass with him, and he gives me
the stuck in with such a mortal motion...

... that it is inevitable they say he has been
fencer to the Shah of Persia.

- Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.
- Ay, but he will not now be pacified.

- Fabian can scarce hold him yonder
- Plague on't!

Let him let the matter slip,
and I'll give him my horse.

I'll make the motion.

stand here, make a good show on't.

I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

- I will make your peace with him if I can.
- I shall be much bound to you for't.

- I have persuaded him the youth's a devil.
- He is as horribly conceited of him.

There's no remedy, sir he will fight
with you for's oath sake.

- Give ground, if you see him furious.
- Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy.

the gentleman will, for his honour's sake,
have one bout with you.

Come on...

To't!

Put up your sword!

If this young gentleman
Have done offence...

- I take the fault on me.
- You, sir! why, what are you?

One, sir, that for his love
dares yet do more -

Than you have heard him
brag to you he will.

Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

hold! here come the officers.

I'll be with you anon.

-Put your sword up.
-and, for that I promised you, I'll be as good as my word.

he will bear you easily
and reins well.

Antonio, I arrest thee
at the suit of Count Orsino.

-You do mistake me, sir.
-No, sir, no jot.

I know your favour well,

Though now you have
no sea-cap on your head.

Take him away: he knows I know him well.

I must obey.
This comes with seeking you:

What will you do, now my necessity
Makes me to ask you for my purse?

- Come, sir, away.
- I must entreat of you some of that money.

What money, sir? For the fair kindness
you have show'd me here I'll lend you something...

Will you deny me now?

Come, sir.

This youth that you see here
I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death,

What's that to us? Go tell my lord Orsino,
We will haul him here.

Lead me on.

A very dishonest paltry boy,
and more a coward than a hare

leaving his friend here in necessity
and denying him...

A coward, a most devout coward,
religious in it.

- 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him.
- Do cuff him soundly...

- but never draw thy sword.
- An I do not!

The have wronged me :
they have laid me into darkness!

The world shall know it!

No, I do not know you nor
I am not sent to you by my lady!

nor your name is not Master Cesario
nor this is not my nose neither.

Nothing that is so is so.

I prithee, foolish Greek, vent thy folly
somewhere else: Thou know'st not me.

"Vent my folly"! and tell me,
what I shall vent to my lady?

Shall I vent to her
that thou art coming?

There's
money for thee.

if you tarry longer, I shall give
worse payment.

By my troth,
thou hast an open hand!

Now, sir, have I met you again?
there's for you!

Why, there's for thee!

Are all
the people mad?

Hold, sir, or I'll throw
your dagger o'er the house.

I would not be in some of
your coats for two pence.

I'll have an action of battery against him,
though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that!

- Let go thy hand!
- I will not let you go, my young soldier!

I will be free from thee!!!

What wouldst thou now?

What, what?

Nay, then I must have an ounce or two
of this malapert blood from you.

Hold, Toby!!!

On thy life I charge thee, hold!

-Madam!
-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!

I prithee, gentle friend, 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.

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!

Nay, come, I prithee
would thou'ldst be ruled by me!

Madam...

I will.

O, say so, and so be!

Prove true, imagination...

O, prove true.

I would I were the first that ever
dissembled in such a gown.

- Jove bless thee, master Parson.
- Bonos dies, Sir Toby.

As the old hermit of Prague, who 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'?

To him, Sir Topas.

What, ho, I say! peace in this prison!

Who calls there?

Master Topas, the curate,
who comes to visit Malvolio, the lunatic.

Good Master Topas, good Master Topas,
go to my lady...

Out, hyperbolical fiend!
Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

He counterfeits well.

Good Sir Topas,
do not think I am mad.

they have laid me
here in hideous darkness....

- Sayest thou that house is dark?
- As Hell, Master Topas.

Why it hath bay windows
transparent as barricadoes

and the clearstores toward
the south north are as lustrous as ebony.

I am not mad.

This is the air...

that is the glorious sun

This pearl she gave me,
I do feel't and see't

Yet doth this accident and
flood of fortune so far exceeds -

- 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...

I am not... mad!

- Fare thee well.
- Master Topas!

I would we were well rid of this
knavery....

I am now so far in offence
with my niece -

that I cannot pursue with any safety.

Come by and by to my chamber.

jolly Robin...

Tell me how thy lady does.'

Feste!

Feste!

Feste!

Feste! Good Feste! help me to a candle,
and pen, ink and paper.

Mr Malvolio! Alas, sir, how fell you
besides your five wits?

Never was a man
so notoriously abused!

They have here propertied me kept me
in darkness, sent ministers to me!

I am as well in my wits
as any man in Illyria!

- Well-a-day that you were, sir
- By this hand, I am!

Good Feste, some ink, paper and light
and convey what I will set down to my lady.

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 as I perceive she does

There's something in't
that is... deceiveable.

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, 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 do you say?

I'll follow this good man, and go with you
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

But tell me true, are you
not mad indeed?

Or do you but counterfeit?

Believe me, I am not

I tell thee true.

Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman
till I see his brains.

I will fetch you light and paper and ink.

I'll requite it in the highest degree!

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, good man devil.

Now, as thou lovest me,
let me see his letter.

Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Ay, sir we are some of her trappings.

If you will let your lady know I am here and bring her
along with you, it may awake my bounty further.

Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty
till I come again.

This is the man, sir,
that did rescue me.

- That face of his I do remember well...
- this is that Antonio, that took the Phoenix.

When your young nephew Titus lost his leg.

- He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side...
- Notable pirate!

Thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness
brought thee to their mercies -

- whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,
Hast made thine enemies?

Orsino, noble sir,

Antonio never yet
was thief or pirate,

Though I confess,

on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy.

A witchcraft drew me hither.

That most ingrateful boy
there by your side,

His life I gave him!
For his sake...

-... faced the danger
of this adverse town!

How can this be?

When came he to this town?

Yester-day, my lord and for three months before,
Both day and night did we keep company.

Here comes the countess:
now heaven walks on earth.

But for thee, fellow fellow,
thy words are madness...

Three months this youth
hath tended upon me.

Bring him away.

What would my lord,
but that he may not have?

Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

- Gracious Olivia...
- What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord -

My lord would speak
my duty hushes me.

If it be aught
to the old tune, my lord

It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
As howling after music.

- Still so cruel?
- Still so constant, lord.

What, to perverseness?
you uncivil lady,

My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath
breathed out that e'er devotion tender'd!

- What shall I do?
- Even what it please my lord, that shall become him.

Why should I not, in savage jealousy like to the
Egyptian thief at point of death, kill what I love?

But Madam, hear me this:

Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,

Live you the marble-breasted
tyrant still

But this your minion, whom I know you love,
And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,

Him will I tear out
of that cruel eye,

And I, most jocund, apt and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

Come, boy, with me
my thoughts are ripe in mischief:

- Where goes Cesario?
- After him I love...

More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.

- Ay me, detested! how am I beguiled!
- Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

Hast thou forgot thyself?
is it so long?

- Call forth the holy father!
- Come, away!

Whither, my lord?
Cesario, husband, stay!

- Husband!
- Ay, husband: can he that deny?

- Her husband, sirrah?
- No, my lord, not I.

Fear not, Cesario
take thy fortunes up!

O, welcome, father!

Father

I charge thee, by thy reverence, here to unfold,
though lately we intended to keep in darkness

what thou dost know hath newly
pass'd between this youth and me.

A contract of
eternal bond of love...

Confirm'd by mutual
joinder of your hands...

Strengthen'd by
interchangement of your rings

Seal'd in my function,
by my testimony.

O thou dissembling cub!

what wilt thou be when time
hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?

Farewell, and take her...

but direct thy feet where thou and I
henceforth may never meet.

- My lord, I do protest...
- O, do not swear!

Hold little faith,
though thou hast too much fear.

For the love of God, a surgeon!
Send one presently to Sir Toby!

For the love of God, your help!

- What's the matter?
- He has broke my head across and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too

I had rather than
forty pound I were at home!

Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

The count's gentleman, one Cesario:
he's the very devil incardinate.

- My gentleman, Cesario?
- 'Od's lifelings, here he is!

You broke my head for nothing and that
that I did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby.

I never hurt you:
You drew your sword upon me without cause!

If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have
hurt me: Here comes Sir Toby halting

If he had not been in drink, he would have
tickled you othergates than he did!

- How now, gentleman! how is't with you?
- That's all one: has hurt me, and there's the end on't.

- Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot?
- O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone.

I hate a drunken rogue.

Away with him!

Who hath made this havoc with them?

I'll help you, Sir Toby,
because well be dressed together.

Will you help me?

an ass-head... and a coxcomb?

and a knave, a thin-faced knave!

A gull!

Get him to bed,
and let his hurt be look'd to.

I am sorry, madam,
I have hurt your kinsman.

But, had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less with wit and safety.

Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.

Antonio!

O my dear Antonio! How have the hours rack'd
and tortured me, since I have lost thee!

- Sebastian... are you?
- Fear'st thou that, Antonio?

How have you made division of yourself?

Which is Sebastian?

Most wonderful!

Do I stand there?

I never had a brother

but I had a sister, whom the blind waves
and surges have devour'd.

Of charity, what kin are you to me?

What countryman?

what name? what parentage?

Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father

Such a Sebastian was my brother too,

So went he suited to his watery tomb:

Were you a woman,
as the rest goes even...

I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,

and say :

'Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!'

My father had a mole upon his brow.

And so had mine.

And died that day
when Viola from her birth...

... That day that made my sister thirteen years.

If nothing lets to make us happy both

But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me...

till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere...

... and jump I am..

Viola...

which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain

by whose gentle help
I was preserved...

to serve this noble count.

So comes it, lady,
you have been mistook

But nature to her bias drew in that.

You would have been
contracted to a maid

Nor are you therein,
by my life, deceived,

You are betroth'd
both to a maid and man.

If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,

I shall have share in this most happy wreck.

Boy,

Thou hast said to me a thousand times
thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

And all those sayings will I overswear

Give me thy hand

Your master quits you

and for your service done him,
So much against the mettle of your sex,

Here is my hand

you shall from this time be

Your master's mistress.

And let me see thee
in thy woman's weeds.

A sister! you are she.

From Malvolio?

What now? Malvolio?

Madam, you have done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.

Have I, Malvolio? no.

Lady, you have.
Pray you, peruse that letter.

You must not now deny it is your hand.
well, grant it then!

And tell me, in the modesty of honour,

Why you have given me
such clear lights of favour?

bade me come smiling
and cross-garter'd to you,

And, acting this in an obedient hope,

Why have you suffer'd me
to be imprison'd, kept in a dark house,

visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck...

and gull that e'er invention
play'd on? tell me...

... Why?

Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,

Though, I confess,
much like the character

But out of question 'tis Maria's hand.

And now I do bethink me, it was she
First told me thou wast mad

This practise hath most shrewdly
pass'd upon thee

Good madam, hear me speak,

Most freely I confess, Maria writ
The letter at Sir Toby's great importance

In recompense whereof
he hath married her.

Alas, poor fool,
how have they baffled thee!

" 'Why, some are born great,..."

"... Some achieve greatness...."

"... And some have greatness thrown upon them. "

I was one, sir, in this interlude...

...one Master Topas.

'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad.'

But do you remember? 'Madam, why laugh you at such
a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagged:'

And thus the whirligig of time...

... brings in his revenges.

I'll be revenged...

on the whole pack of you.

Pursue him and entreat him to a peace.

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho.

'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,

For the rain it raineth every day.

He hath been most notoriously abused.

No, it is done and golden time convents.

A solemn combination shall be made
Of our dear souls.

But when I came, alas! to wive,
With hey, ho.

By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain.

But when I came unto my beds,

With hey, ho.

With toss-pots still had drunken heads,

For the rain.

A great while ago the world begun, 2620
With hey, ho.

But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.

And I'll strive to please you every day.

Every day.

Every day.