Twelfth Night: Act 1

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SIR TOBY BELCH
A gentleman.

OLIVIA
A gentleman! what gentleman?

SIR TOBY BELCH
'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these pickle-herring! How now, sot!

Clown
Good Sir Toby!

OLIVIA
Cousin, cousin, 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, an 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 mad man: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.

OLIVIA
Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my coz; 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

Re-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
Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, 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; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him in standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured 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

Re-enter MARIA

OLIVIA
Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

Enter VIOLA, and Attendants

VIOLA
The honourable 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,--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 con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very 'countable, 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 usurp myself, I am.

VIOLA
Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp 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 not 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
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 fun of peace as matter.

OLIVIA
Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?

VIOLA
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.

 

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