12th Nite, Act I

Twelfth Night, Act I

ACT I, SCENE 1.	ENCORE.

[A city in Illyria. The Duke's palace. A Musician is playing. He 
finishes, and the audience applauds. He rises, bows, and starts to 
go. The audience stops applauding, but Orsino, in the audience, 
rises, and continues applauding. Curio moves in, hoping Orsino 
won't embarrass himself. The Musician stops, Orsino moves 
forward, out of the audience.)
	
      ORSINO
If music be the food of love, play on; 
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.--
[The Musician sits and begins playing again.]
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 odor!
[The Musician begins a vocal, but Orsino interrupts]
			-- Enough; no more; 
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh are you! 
      CURIO [picking up a rifle].
Will you go hunt, my lord?
      ORSINO
 What, Curio?
      CURIO.
The hart.
      ORSINO
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
I thought she purged the air of pestilence! 
That instant was I turned into a hart;
And my desires, like fierce and cruel hounds, 
E'er since pursue me.
 [Enter VALENTINE.]
 How now! what news from her?
             VALENTINE.
So please my lord, I might not be admitted; 
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years hence, 
Shall not behold her face at ample view; 
But, like a cloistress, she will veiléd walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh 
And lasting in her sad rememberance.
      ORSINO
O, she that has a heart of that fine frame 
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Has killed the flock of all affections else
That live in her, are all supplied, and filled,
Her sweet perfections with one sole king!--
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers: 
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers. 
[ORSINO exits; VALENTINE and CURIO roll their eyes and 
follow.]  



ACT I, SCENE 2.	THIS JUST INŠ

[The sea-coast.  IHN music; we hear the News Announcer's voice.]

     NEWS ANNOUNCER
This is Illyria Headline News. A shipwreck today off the coast, in a 
tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning. The flames and cracks 
of sulfurous roaring the most mightly Neptune seem to besiege, and 
made his bold waves tremble; all but mariners plunged in the 
foaming brine and quit the vessel, then all afire: a brave vessel 
dashed all to pieces. Of survivors, none is known at this hour.
[Enter VIOLA, and CAPTAIN, wrapped in blankets, and drinking 
from coffee mugs.]
       VIOLA.
What country, friend, is this?
     CAPTAIN.
This is Illyria, lady.
       VIOLA.
And what should I do in Illyria? 
My brother he is in Elysium.
By chance he is not drowned:-- what think you, captain?
     CAPTAIN.
It is by chance that you yourself were saved.
       VIOLA.
O my poor brother! and so by chance may he be.
     CAPTAIN.
True, madam; and, to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and those poor number saved with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself
To a strong mast floating upon the sea;
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
So long as I could see.
       VIOLA.
For saying so, there's gold.
Know you this country? 
     CAPTAIN.
Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born 
Not three hours' travel from this very place.
       VIOLA.
Who governs here?
     CAPTAIN.
A noble duke, in nature as in name.
       VIOLA.
What is his name?
     CAPTAIN.
Orsino. 
       VIOLA.
Orsino! I have heard my father name him: 
He was a bachelor then.
     CAPTAIN.
And so is now, or was so very late;
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmur,-- as, you know, 
(finds a copy of the National Enquirer)
What great ones do, the less will prattle of,-- 
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
       VIOLA.
What's she?
     CAPTAIN.
A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count 
That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died: for whose dear loss, 
They say, she has abjured the company
And sight of men.
       VIOLA.
			O, that I served that lady,
And might not be discloséd to the world, 
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is!
     CAPTAIN.
			That were hard to effect;
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
Not even the duke's. 
       VIOLA.
There is a fair behavior in you, captain. 
I pray you,-- and I'll pay you bounteously,-- 
Conceal me what I am; I'll serve this duke:
You shall present me as an eunuch to him:
It may be worth your pains; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of music, 
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape you your silence to my wit.
     CAPTAIN.
Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. 
       VIOLA.
I thank you: lead me on. [Exeunt.]


ACT I, SCENE 3.	TWO WILD AND CRAZY GUYS

[A city in Illyria. Olivia's house. Enter MARIA, dusting. She turns 
on the cassette player, and it plays "Stayin' Alive." She dances and 
dusts. SIR TOBY enters with a drink. She turns the player off.]

     SIR TOBY BELCH.
What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? 
I am sure care's an enemy to life.
      MARIA.
By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights: your 
niece, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. You must 
confine yourself within the modest limits of order. 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.
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
      MARIA.
Ay, he. 
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
He's as bold a man as any's in Illyria.
      MARIA.
What's that to th'purpose?
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
      MARIA.
Ay, but he's a very fool and a prodigal. 
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of 
him. Who are they?
      MARIA.
They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to her as long as there is 
a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria. What! [shushes her]  For 
here comes Sir Andrew Agueface. 
 [Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.]
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Sir Toby Belch,-- how now, Sir Toby Belch!
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Sweet Sir Andrew.
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Bless you, fair shrew. 
      MARIA.
And you too, sir.
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
What's that?
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
My niece's chambermaid.
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
      MARIA.
My name is Mary, sir.
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Good Mistress Mary Accost,--
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
You mistake, knight: "accost" is front her, board her, woo her, 
assail her. 
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the 
meaning of "accost"?
      MARIA.
Fare you well, gentlemen. 
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?
      MARIA.
Sir, I have not you by th'hand. 
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. 
[He reaches for her breast; she grabs his wrist with a judo hold; he 
drops to knees].
      MARIA
Now, sir, thought is free: marry, now I let go your hand. [Exit.]
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
O knight, you lack a cup. [Pours drink]  When did I see you so put 
down?
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Never in your life, I think; I think sometimes I have no more wit 
than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of 
beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
No question.
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
If I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home tomorrow, Sir Toby.
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
'Pourquoi', my dear knight?
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
What is 'pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time 
in the tongues that I have in fencing or dancing: O, had I but 
followed the arts! 
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Then had you had an excellent head of hair. 
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
But it becomes me well enough, does't not?
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a 
housewife take you between her legs and spin it off.
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Faith, I'll home tomorrow, Sir Toby: 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.
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
She'll none o' th' Count: she'll not match above her degree, neither 
in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear't. Tut, there's hope 
in't, man. 
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' strangest mind i' th' 
world; I delight in masks and revels sometimes altogether.
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Are you good at theatricals, knight?
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my 
betters.
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
What is your excellence in a galliard, knight? [Turns cassette back 
on--"Stayin' Alive"-- and strikes dance pose]
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Faith, I can cut a caper. [Dances]   And I think I have the back-trick 
simply as strong as any man in Illyria. 
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain 
before 'em? Why do you not go to church in a galliard, and come 
home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig.
      SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Ay, 'tis strong. Shall we set about some revels?
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
What shall we do else? Let me see you caper. [SIR ANDREW 
dances]  Ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent! [Exeunt.] 



ACT I, SCENE 4.	MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE.

[The Duke's palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's 
attire.]

       VALENTINE.
If the duke continue these favors towards you, Cesario, you
are like to be much advanced: he has known you but three
days, and already you are no stranger. 
       VIOLA.
You either fear his humor or my negligence, that you call
in question the continuance of his love: is he inconstant,
sir, in his favors? 
       VALENTINE.
No, believe me.
       VIOLA.
I thank you. Here comes the count.
 [Enter DUKE, CURIO, and ATTENDANTS.]
      ORSINO
Who saw Cesario, ho?
       VIOLA.
On your attendance, my lord; here. 
      ORSINO
Stand you awhile aloof.-- Cesario,
You know no less but all; I have unclasped 
To you the book even of my secret soul: 
Therefore, good youth, direct your steps unto her, 
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there your fixéd foot shall grow 
Till you have audience.
       VIOLA.
			Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandoned to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me. 
      ORSINO
Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, 
Rather than make unprofited return.
       VIOLA.
Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
      ORSINO
O, then unfold the passion of my love,
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith!
It shall become you well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in your youth
Than in a messenger's of more grave aspect.
       VIOLA.
I think not so, my lord.
      ORSINO
			Dear lad, believe it. Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and ruby-red; your small voice 
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and clear; 
And all is so much like a woman's part. 
I know your  constellation is right apt 
For this affair. Prosper well in this,
And you shall live as freely as your lord,
To call his fortunes yours.
       VIOLA.
				I'll do my best
To woo your lady:-- [aside]  yet, an awful strife! 
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.[Exeunt.]


ACT I, SCENE 5.	SEND IN THE CLOWNS.

[Olivia's house. CLOWN enters strolling and playing. Enter 
MARIA.]

      MARIA.
Nay, tell me where you have been: my lady will hang you for your 
absence.
      CLOWN.
Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage. 
      MARIA.
You are resolute, then?
      CLOWN.
Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points. 
      MARIA.
That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your 
britches fall.
      CLOWN.
Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go your way; if Sir Toby would 
leave drinking, you were as clever a piece of Eve's flesh as any in 
Illyria.
      MARIA.
Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady: make your 
excuse wisely, you were best.  [Exit.] 
      CLOWN.
Wit, if it be your will, put me into good fooling! For what says 
Quinapalus? "Better a witty fool than a foolish wit." 
 [Enter LADY OLIVIA with MALVOLIO.]
God bless you, lady!
      OLIVIA.
Take the fool away. 
      CLOWN.
Do you not hear, fellow? Take away the lady.
      OLIVIA.
Sir, I bade him take away you. 
      CLOWN.
Mistaken identity in the highest degree!-- Good madonna, give me 
leave to prove you a fool. 
      OLIVIA.
Can you do it?
      CLOWN.
Dexteriously, good madonna.
      OLIVIA.
Make your proof. 
      CLOWN.
I must catechize you for it, madonna: good madonna, why mourn 
you?
      OLIVIA.
Good fool, for my brother's death. 
      CLOWN.
I think his soul is in hell, madonna. 
      OLIVIA.
I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
      CLOWN.
The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in 
heaven.-- Take away the fool, gentle sir.
      OLIVIA.
What think you of this fool, Malvolio? does he not mend?
      MALVOLIO.
Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him. I marvel your 
ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down 
the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a 
stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you 
laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take 
these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better 
than the fools' zanies.
      OLIVIA.
O, 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.
      CLOWN.
Now Mercury endow you with fooling, for you speak well of fools!
 [Enter  MARIA.]
      MARIA.
Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to 
speak with you.
      OLIVIA.
From the Count Orsino, is it?
      MARIA.
I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended.
      OLIVIA.
Who of my people hold him in delay?
      MARIA.
Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
      OLIVIA.
Fetch him off, I pray you!
[Exit  MARIA.]
Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at 
home; what you will, to dismiss it.  
[Exit MALVOLIO.] 
      CLOWN.
Madonna, -- here he comes-- one of your kin has a most weak 'pia 
mater.'
 [Enter SIR TOBY.]
      OLIVIA.
By my honor, half drunk.-- What is he at the gate, uncle? 
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
A gentleman. 
      OLIVIA.
A gentleman! what gentleman?
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
'Tis a gentleman here-- How now, sot!
      CLOWN.
Good Sir Toby!-- 
      OLIVIA.
Uncle, how have you come so early by this lethargy? 
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate.
      OLIVIA.
Ay, marry; what is he?
     SIR TOBY BELCH.
Let him be the devil, if he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, 
it's all one.  [Exit.]
      OLIVIA.
What's a drunken man like, fool?
      CLOWN.
Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draft above makes 
him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. [He falls 
in mock uncosnciousness]
      OLIVIA.
Go you and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' my uncle; for he's in 
the third degree of drink,-- he's drowned: go, look after him.
      CLOWN.
He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. 
[Exit.   Enter  MALVOLIO.]
      MALVOLIO.
Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I  told 
him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and 
therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he 
seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to 
speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified 
against any denial. 
      OLIVIA.
Tell him he shall not speak with me. 
      MALVOLIO.
H'as been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a 
sheriff's post, but he'll  speak with you. 
      OLIVIA.
What kind o' man is he?
      MALVOLIO.
Why, of mankind.
      OLIVIA.
What manner of man?
      MALVOLIO.
Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no. 
      OLIVIA.
Of what personage and years is he?
      MALVOLIO.
Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy. He is 
very well-favored, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think 
his mother's milk were scarce out of him.
      OLIVIA.
Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
      MALVOLIO.
Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit.] 
 [Enter MARIA.]
      OLIVIA.
Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear 
Orsino's embassy. 
       VIOLA [Entering].
The honorable lady of the house, which is she?
      OLIVIA.
Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will?
       VIOLA.
"Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty,"1 -- I 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; for, besides that it is excellently 
well penned, I have taken great pains to learn it. Good beauties, let 
me sustain no scorn; I am very sensitive, even to the least sinister  
usage. 
      OLIVIA.
Whence came you, sir? 
       VIOLA.
I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of 
my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance if you be the 
lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. 
      OLIVIA.
Are you a comedian?
       VIOLA.
No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice
I swear I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house? 
      OLIVIA.
If I do not betray myself, I am.
       VIOLA.
Most certain, if you are she, you do betray yourself; "for, 
what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve." But this is 
from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, 
and then show you the heart of my message. 
      OLIVIA.
Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise. 
       VIOLA.
Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.
      OLIVIA.
It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you, keep it in. I heard you 
were saucy at my gates; and allowed your approach rather to wonder 
at you than to hear you. If you be mad, be gone; if you have reason, 
be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so 
skipping a dialogue. 
[MARIA offers OLIVIA a tampon from her purse; OLIVIA refuses 
it.]
      MARIA.
Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. 
       VIOLA.
No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer. Some 
mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Tell me your mind: I am a 
messenger.
      OLIVIA.
Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy 
of it is so fearful. Speak your office. 
       VIOLA.
"It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation 
of homage: I hold the olive in my hand; my words are as full of 
peace as matter."
      OLIVIA.
Yet you began rudely. What are you?
       VIOLA.
The rudeness that has 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."
      OLIVIA.
Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.[Exit MARIA.] 
Now, sir, what is your text?
       VIOLA.
"Most sweet lady,"--
      OLIVIA.
A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your 
text? 
       VIOLA.
In Orsino's bosom. 
      OLIVIA.
In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom?
       VIOLA.
To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. 
      OLIVIA.
O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say? 
       VIOLA.
Good madam, let me see your face. 

      OLIVIA.
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: is't not well done? 
[Unveiling.]
       VIOLA.
Excellently done, if God did all. 
      OLIVIA.
'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. 
       VIOLA.
'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
"Lady, you are the cruelest she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy."
      OLIVIA.
O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules 
of my beauty: it shall be inventoried, and every particle labeled to 
my will:-- as, item, two lips, indifferent red; item, two gray eyes, 
with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you 
sent hither to appraise me? 
       VIOLA.
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. 
      OLIVIA.
How does he love me?
       VIOLA.
"With adorations, with fertile tears, 
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire."
      OLIVIA.
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;
In voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant;
And, in dimension and the shape of nature, 
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him; 
He might have took his answer long ago. 
       VIOLA.
"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."
      OLIVIA.
 Why, what would you?
       VIOLA.
"Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
And call upon my soul within the house; 
Write loyal cantons of contemnéd love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night; 
Hallo 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!"
      OLIVIA.
You might do much. What is your parentage? 
       VIOLA.
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.
      OLIVIA.
			Get you to your lord;
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Unless, perhaps, 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.
       VIOLA.
I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse: 
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit.]
      OLIVIA.
"What is your parentage?"
"Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman." I'll be sworn you are; 
Your tongue, your face, your limbs, actions, and spirit,
Do give you fivefold blazon:-- not too fast;-- 
Soft, soft!-- How now!
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
I think 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!
 [Enter MALVOLIO.]
      MALVOLIO.
Here, madam, at your service.
      OLIVIA.
Run after that same peevish messenger,
Orsino's man: he left this ring behind him.
Tell him I'll none of it.
If that the youth will come this way tomorrow,
I'll give him reasons for't. Go you, Malvolio. 
      MALVOLIO.
Madam, I will. [Exit.]
      OLIVIA.
I do I know not what; and fear to find
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
Fate, show your force: ourselves we do not owe;
What is decreed must be,-- and be this so! [Exit.]
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