 | Twelfe Night, or what you will |  |
Actus Quartus,
Scæna prima.
Enter Sebastian and Clowne.Clo.
Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for
you?
Seb.
Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow,
Let me be cleere of thee.
Clo.
Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you,
nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come
speake with her: nor your name is not Master Cesario,
nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so.
Seb.
I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou
know'st not me.
Clo.
Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some
great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my folly:
I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a
Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell
me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that
thou art comming?
Seb.
I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's
money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse
paiment.
Clo.
By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wisemen
that giue fooles money, get themselues a good report,
after foureteene yeares purchase.
Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.
And.
Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you.
Seb.
Why there's for thee, and there, and there,
Are all the people mad?
To.
Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house
Clo.
This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be
in some of your coats for two pence.
To.
Come on sir, hold.
An.
Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke
with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if
there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet
it's no matter for that.
Seb.
Let go thy hand.
To.
Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong
souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come
on.
Seb.
I will be free from thee. What wouldst y
u now?
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
To.
What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or
two of this malapert blood from you.
Enter Oliuia.
Ol.
Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold.
To.
Madam.
Ol.
Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch,
Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues,
Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight.
Be not offended, deere Cesario:
Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend,
Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion sway
In this vnciuill, and vniust extent
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankes
This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby
Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe:
Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee,
He started one poore heart of mine, in thee.
Seb.
What rellish is in this? How runs the streame?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame:
Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe,
If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe.
Ol.
Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me
Seb.
Madam, I will.
Ol.
O say so, and so be.
Exeunt
Scœna Secunda.
Enter Maria and Clowne.Mar.
Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard,
make him beleeue thou art sir Topas the Curate, doe it
quickly. Ile call sir Toby the whilst.
Clo.
Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe
in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in
function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good
Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good houskeeper
goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great
scholler. The Competitors enter.
Enter Toby.
To.
Ioue blesse thee M. Parson.
Clo.
Bonos dies sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prage
that neuer saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece
of King Gorbodacke, that that is, is: so I being M. Parson,
am M. Parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is?
To.
To him sir Topas.
Clow.
What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison.
To.
The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.
Maluolio within.
Mal.
Who cals there?
Clo.
Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluolio
the Lunaticke.
Mal.
Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas goe to my
Ladie.
Clo.
Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this
man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies?
Tob.
Well said M. Parson.
Mal.
Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good
sir Topas do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee
heere in hideous darknesse.
Clo.
Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the
most modest termes, for I am one of those gentle ones,
that will vse the diuell himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou
that house is darke?
Mal.
As hell sir Topas.
Clo.
Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as baricadoes,
and the cleere stores toward the South north, are
as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of obstruction?
Mal.
I am not mad sir Topas, I say to you this house is
darke.
Clo.
Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse
but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the
Ægyptians in their fogge.
Mal.
I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh
Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I say there was neuer
man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are,
make the triall of it in any constant question.
Clo.
What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning
Wilde-fowle?
Mal.
That the soule of our grandam, might happily
inhabite a bird.
Clo.
What thinkst thou of his opinion?
Mal.
I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aproue
his opinion.
Clo.
Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse,
thou shalt hold th'opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow
of thy wits, and feare to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dispossesse
the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well.
Mal.
Sir Topas, sir Topas.
Tob.
My most exquisite sir Topas.
Clo.
Nay I am for all waters.
Mar.
Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd
and gowne, he sees thee not.
To.
To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word
how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this
knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would
he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece,
that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppeshot.
Come by and by to my Chamber.
Exit
Clo.
Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady
does.
Mal.
Foole.
Clo.
My Lady is vnkind, perdie.
Mal.
Foole.
Clo.
Alas why is she so?
Mal.
Foole, I say.
Clo.
She loues another. Who calles, ha?
Mal.
Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at
my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper:
as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee
for't.
Clo.
M. Maluolio?
Mal.
I good Foole.
Clo.
Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts?
Mall.
Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie abus'd:
I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art.
Clo.
But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be
no better in your wits then a foole.
Mal.
They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in
darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they
can to face me out of my wits.
Clo.
Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere.
Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: endeauour
thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble
babble.
Mal.
Sir Topas.
Clo.
Maintaine no words with him good fellow.
Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Marry
Amen. I will sir, I will.
Mal.
Foole, foole, foole I say.
Clo.
Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent
for speaking to you.
Mal.
Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some
paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in
Illyria.
Clo.
Well-a-day, that you were sir.
Mal.
By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, paper,
and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my
Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bearing
of Letter did.
Clo.
I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not
mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit.
Mal.
Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true.
Clo.
Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains
I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke.
Mal.
Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree:
I prethee be goue.
Clo.
I am gone sir, and anon sir,
Ile be with you againe:
In a trice, like to the old vice,
your neede to sustaine.
Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath,
cries ah ha, to the diuell:
Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad,
Adieu good man diuell.
Exit
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Sebastian.This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne,
This pearle she gaue me, I do feel't, and see't,
And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
I could not finde him at the Elephant,
Yet there he was, and there I found this credite,
That he did range the towne to seeke me out,
His councell now might do me golden seruice,
For though my soule disputes well with my sence,
That this may be some error, but no madnesse,
Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune,
So farre exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am readie to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason that perswades me
To any other trust, but that I am mad,
Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing
As I perceiue she do's: there's something in't
That is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes.
Enter Oliuia, and Priest.
Ol.
Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane well
Now go with me, and with this holy man
Into the Chantry by: there before him,
And vnderneath that consecrated roofe,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith,
That my most iealious, and too doubtfull soule
May liue at peace. He shall conceale it,
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note,
What time we will our celebration keepe
According to my birth, what do you say?
Seb.
Ile follow this good man, and go with you,
And hauing sworne truth, euer will be true.
Ol.
Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine,
That they may fairely note this acte of mine.
Exeunt.
| Twelfe Night, or what you will | |