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OLIVIA’S Garden. | |
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Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabor. | |
| Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by thy tabor? | |
| Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. | |
| Vio. Art thou a churchman? | 5 |
| Clo. 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. | |
| Vio. So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. | |
| Clo. You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward! | |
| Vio. Nay, that’s certain: they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton. | |
| Clo. I would therefore my sister had had no name, sir. | 10 |
| Vio. Why, man? | |
| Clo. Why, sir, her name’s a word; and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton. But indeed, words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them. | |
| Vio. Thy reason, man? | |
| Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them. | |
| Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing. | 15 |
| Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. | |
| Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s fool? | |
| Clo. No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings—the husband’s the bigger. I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. | |
| Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino’s. | |
| Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress. I think I saw your wisdom there. | 20 |
| Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I’ll no more with thee. Hold, there’s sixpence for thee. [Gives a piece of money. | |
| Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard! | |
| Vio. 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? | |
| Clo. [Pointing to the coin.] Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? | |
| Vio. Yes, being kept together and put to use. | 25 |
| Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. | |
| Vio. I understand you, sir; ’tis well begg’d. | |
| Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will conster to them whence you come; who you are and what you would are out of my welkin; I might say ‘element,’ but the word is overworn. [Exit. | |
| Vio. This fellow’s wise enough to play the fool, | |
| And to do that well craves a kind of wit: | 30 |
| He must observe their mood on whom he jests, | |
| The quality of persons, and the time, | |
| And, like the haggard, check at every feather | |
| That comes before his eye. This is a practice | |
| As full of labour as a wise man’s art; | 35 |
| For folly that he wisely shows is fit; | |
| But wise men folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit. | |
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Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK. | |
| Sir To. Save you, gentleman. | |
| Vio. And you, sir. | 40 |
| Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. | |
| Vio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. | |
| Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. | |
| Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. | |
| Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage. | 45 |
| Sir To. Taste your legs, sir: put them to motion. | |
| Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. | |
| Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. | |
| Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are prevented. | |
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Enter OLIVIA and MARIA. | 50 |
| Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you! | |
| Sir And. That youth’s a rare courtier. ‘Rain odours!’ well. | |
| Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. | |
| Sir And. ‘Odours,’ ‘pregnant,’ and ‘vouchsafed.’ I’ll get ’em all three all ready. | |
| Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA. | 55 |
| Give me your hand, sir. | |
| Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. | |
| Oli. What is your name? | |
| Vio. Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess. | |
| Oli. My servant, sir! ’Twas never merry world | 60 |
| Since lowly feigning was call’d compliment. | |
| You’re servant to the Count Orsino, youth. | |
| Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: | |
| Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam. | |
| Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, | 65 |
| Would they were blanks rather than fill’d with me! | |
| Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts | |
| On his behalf. | |
| Oli. O! by your leave, I pray you, | |
| I bade you never speak again of him: | 70 |
| But, would you undertake another suit, | |
| I had rather hear you to solicit that | |
| Than music from the spheres. | |
| Vio. Dear lady,— | |
| Oli Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, | 75 |
| 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: | |
| Under your hard construction must I sit, | |
| To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, | 80 |
| Which you knew none of yours: what might you think? | |
| Have you not set mine honour at the stake, | |
| And baited it with all th’ unmuzzled thoughts | |
| That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving | |
| Enough is shown; a cypress, not a bosom, | 85 |
| Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak. | |
| Vio. I pity you. | |
| Oli. That’s a degree to love. | |
| Vio. No, not a grize; for ’tis a vulgar proof | |
| That very oft we pity enemies. | 90 |
| Oli. Why, then methinks ’tis time to smile again. | |
| O world! how apt the poor are to be proud. | |
| If one should be a prey, how much the better | |
| To fall before the lion than the wolf! [Clock strikes. | |
| The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. | 95 |
| Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: | |
| And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, | |
| Your wife is like to reap a proper man: | |
| There lies your way, due west. | |
| Vio. Then westward-ho! | 100 |
| Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship! | |
| You’ll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? | |
| Oli. Stay: | |
| I prithee, tell me what thou think’st of me. | |
| Vio. That you do think you are not what you are. | 105 |
| Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. | |
| Vio. Then think you right: I am not what I am. | |
| Oli. I would you were as I would have you be! | |
| Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am? | |
| I wish it might, for now I am your fool. | 110 |
| Oli. O! what a deal of scorn looks beautiful | |
| In the contempt and anger of his lip. | |
| A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon | |
| Than love that would seem hid; love’s night is noon. | |
| Cesario, by the roses of the spring, | 115 |
| By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, | |
| I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, | |
| Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. | |
| Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, | |
| For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; | 120 |
| But rather reason thus with reason fetter, | |
| Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better. | |
| Vio. 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 | 125 |
| Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. | |
| And so adieu, good madam: never more | |
| Will I my master’s tears to you deplore. | |
| Oli. Yet come again, for thou perhaps mayst move | |
| That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [Exeunt. | 130 |
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