Act III, Scene 1
Enter VIOLA, and FESTE with a tabor.
Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by thy tabor?
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. 5
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.
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 10
Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words may
quickly make them wanton.
I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
Why, man? 15
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.
Thy reason, man?
Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words 20
are grown so false I am loath to prove reason with them.
I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.
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. 25
Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?
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. 30
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it
shines everywhere. 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. 35
Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.
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? 40
Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Yes, being kept together and put to use.
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir,
to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged. 45
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
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.
This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; 50
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
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 55
As full of labour as a wise man's art:
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.
Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
Save you, gentleman.
And you, sir. 60
Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you
should enter, if your trade be to her. 65
I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage.
Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.
My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what
you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
I mean, to go, sir, to enter. 70
I will answer you with gait and entrance: but we are prevented.
Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!
That youth's a rare courtier- 'Rain odours'! well.
My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant
and vouchsafed ear. 75
'Odours,' 'pregnant,' and 'vouchsafed':--I'll get 'em all three ready.
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA.
Give me your hand, sir.
My duty, madam, and most humble service.
What is your name? 80
Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was called compliment:
You are servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours; 85
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks rather than filled with me!
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf:-- 90
O, by your leave, I pray you:
I bade you never speak again of him:
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that
Than music from the spheres. 95
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: 100
Under your hard construction must I sit;
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,
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts 105
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
Hides my heart: so let me hear you speak.
I Pity you.
That's a degree to love. 110
No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof
That very oft we pity enemies.
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 115
To fall before the lion than the wolf! (Clock strikes.)
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 like to reap a proper man. 120
There lies your way, due-west.
Grace and good disposition 'tend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
I prithee tell me what thou think'st 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 were as I would have you be! 130
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!
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon 135
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honour, truth, and everything,
I love thee so that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. 140
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause:
But rather reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
By innocence I swear, and by my youth, 145
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. 150
Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, mayst move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
Twelfth Night II.v : Twelfth Night III.ii