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twg_000000028000 | madam, than I am? I wish it might, for now I am your fool. OLIVIA. O what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! A murdrous guilt shows not itself more soon Than love that would seem hid. Loves night is noon. Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028001 | and everything, 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; But rather reason thus with reason fetter: Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. VIOLA. By innocence I swear, and by my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028002 | youth, 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 masters tears to you deplore. OLIVIA. Yet come again: for thou perhaps mayst move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [_Exeunt._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028003 | SCENE II. A Room in Olivias House. Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian. SIR ANDREW. No, faith, Ill not stay a jot longer. SIR TOBY. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. FABIAN. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. SIR ANDREW. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the Counts servingman than ever she bestowed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028004 | upon me; I sawt i th orchard. SIR TOBY. Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me that. SIR ANDREW. As plain as I see you now. FABIAN. This was a great argument of love in her toward you. SIR ANDREW. Slight! will you make an ass o me? FABIAN. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028005 | oaths of judgment and reason. SIR TOBY. And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor. FABIAN. She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her, and with some excellent jests, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028006 | fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my ladys opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on Dutchmans beard, unless you do redeem | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028007 | it by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policy. SIR ANDREW. Andt be any way, it must be with valour, for policy I hate; I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician. SIR TOBY. Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him. Hurt him in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028008 | eleven places; my niece shall take note of it, and assure thyself there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in mans commendation with woman than report of valour. FABIAN. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. SIR ANDREW. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? SIR TOBY. Go, write it in a martial | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028009 | hand, be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention. Taunt him with the licence of ink. If thou thoust him some thrice, it shall not be amiss, and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028010 | in England, set em down. Go about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. About it. SIR ANDREW. Where shall I find you? SIR TOBY. Well call thee at the cubiculo. Go. [_Exit Sir Andrew._] FABIAN. This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby. SIR TOBY. I have been | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028011 | dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong, or so. FABIAN. We shall have a rare letter from him; but youll not deliver it. SIR TOBY. Never trust me then. And by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened and you find so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028012 | much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, Ill eat the rest of th anatomy. FABIAN. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter Maria. SIR TOBY. Look where the youngest wren of nine comes. MARIA. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028013 | me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian that means to be saved by believing rightly can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. Hes in yellow stockings. SIR TOBY. And cross-gartered? MARIA. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i th church. I have dogged him like his murderer. He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028014 | does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies. You have not seen such a thing as tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him. If she do, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028015 | hell smile and taket for a great favour. SIR TOBY. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. A street. Enter Sebastian and Antonio. SEBASTIAN. I would not by my will have troubled you, But since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you. ANTONIO. I could not stay behind you: my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028016 | desire, More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; And not all love to see you, though so much, As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, But jealousy what might befall your travel, Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, Unguided and unfriended, often prove Rough and unhospitable. My willing love, The rather by these | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028017 | arguments of fear, Set forth in your pursuit. SEBASTIAN. My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. But were my worth, as is my conscience, firm, You should find better dealing. Whats to do? Shall we go see the relics of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028018 | this town? ANTONIO. Tomorrow, sir; best first go see your lodging. SEBASTIAN. I am not weary, and tis long to night; I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes With the memorials and the things of fame That do renown this city. ANTONIO. Would youd pardon me. I do not without danger walk these streets. Once in a sea-fight, gainst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028019 | the Count his galleys, I did some service, of such note indeed, That were I taen here, it would scarce be answerd. SEBASTIAN. Belike you slew great number of his people. ANTONIO. Th offence is not of such a bloody nature, Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel Might well have given us bloody argument. It might have since | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028020 | been answered in repaying What we took from them, which for traffics sake, Most of our city did. Only myself stood out, For which, if I be lapsed in this place, I shall pay dear. SEBASTIAN. Do not then walk too open. ANTONIO. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, heres my purse. In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028021 | Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge With viewing of the town. There shall you have me. SEBASTIAN. Why I your purse? ANTONIO. Haply your eye shall light upon some toy You have desire to purchase; and your store, I think, is not for idle markets, sir. SEBASTIAN. Ill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028022 | be your purse-bearer, and leave you for an hour. ANTONIO. To th Elephant. SEBASTIAN. I do remember. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Olivias garden. Enter Olivia and Maria. OLIVIA. I have sent after him. He says hell come; How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft than beggd or borrowd. I speak too loud. Wheres | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028023 | Malvolio?He is sad and civil, And suits well for a servant with my fortunes; Where is Malvolio? MARIA. Hes coming, madam: But in very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam. OLIVIA. Why, whats the matter? Does he rave? MARIA. No, madam, he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he come, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028024 | for sure the man is tainted in s wits. OLIVIA. Go call him hither. Im as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be. Enter Malvolio. How now, Malvolio? MALVOLIO. Sweet lady, ho, ho! OLIVIA. Smilst thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. MALVOLIO. Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028025 | the blood, this cross-gartering. But what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one and please all. OLIVIA. Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee? MALVOLIO. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It did come to his hands, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028026 | commands shall be executed. I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. OLIVIA. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? MALVOLIO. To bed? Ay, sweetheart, and Ill come to thee. OLIVIA. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft? MARIA. How do you, Malvolio? MALVOLIO. At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws! MARIA. Why | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028027 | appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady? MALVOLIO. Be not afraid of greatness. Twas well writ. OLIVIA. What meanst thou by that, Malvolio? MALVOLIO. Some are born great OLIVIA. Ha? MALVOLIO. Some achieve greatness OLIVIA. What sayst thou? MALVOLIO. And some have greatness thrust upon them. OLIVIA. Heaven restore thee! MALVOLIO. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings OLIVIA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028028 | Thy yellow stockings? MALVOLIO. And wished to see thee cross-gartered. OLIVIA. Cross-gartered? MALVOLIO. Go to: thou art made, if thou desirst to be so: OLIVIA. Am I made? MALVOLIO. If not, let me see thee a servant still. OLIVIA. Why, this is very midsummer madness. Enter Servant. SERVANT. Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsinos is returned; I could | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028029 | hardly entreat him back. He attends your ladyships pleasure. OLIVIA. Ill come to him. [_Exit Servant._] Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Wheres my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry. [_Exeunt Olivia and Maria._] MALVOLIO. O ho, do you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028030 | come near me now? No worse man than Sir Toby to look to me. This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter. Cast thy humble slough, says she; be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants, let thy tongue tang with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028031 | arguments of state, put thyself into the trick of singularity, and consequently, sets down the manner how: as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her, but it is Joves doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went away now, Let this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028032 | fellow be looked to; Fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, everything adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance. What can be said? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028033 | doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Enter Sir Toby, Fabian and Maria. SIR TOBY. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet Ill speak to him. FABIAN. Here he is, here he is. How ist with you, sir? How ist | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028034 | with you, man? MALVOLIO. Go off, I discard you. Let me enjoy my private. Go off. MARIA. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! Did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him. MALVOLIO. Ah, ha! does she so? SIR TOBY. Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal gently | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028035 | with him. Let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? How ist with you? What, man! defy the devil! Consider, hes an enemy to mankind. MALVOLIO. Do you know what you say? MARIA. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God he be not bewitched. FABIAN. Carry his water to th wise | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028036 | woman. MARIA. Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than Ill say. MALVOLIO. How now, mistress! MARIA. O Lord! SIR TOBY. Prithee hold thy peace, this is not the way. Do you not see you move him? Let me alone with him. FABIAN. No way but gentleness, gently, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028037 | gently. The fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. SIR TOBY. Why, how now, my bawcock? How dost thou, chuck? MALVOLIO. Sir! SIR TOBY. Ay, biddy, come with me. What, man, tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier! MARIA. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028038 | pray. MALVOLIO. My prayers, minx? MARIA. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness. MALVOLIO. Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle, shallow things. I am not of your element. You shall know more hereafter. [_Exit._] SIR TOBY. Ist possible? FABIAN. If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. SIR | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028039 | TOBY. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man. MARIA. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint. FABIAN. Why, we shall make him mad indeed. MARIA. The house will be the quieter. SIR TOBY. Come, well have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that hes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028040 | mad. We may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him, at which time we will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see! Enter Sir Andrew. FABIAN. More matter for a May morning. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028041 | SIR ANDREW. Heres the challenge, read it. I warrant theres vinegar and pepper int. FABIAN. Ist so saucy? SIR ANDREW. Ay, ist, I warrant him. Do but read. SIR TOBY. Give me. [_Reads._] _Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow._ FABIAN. Good, and valiant. SIR TOBY. _Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028042 | call thee so, for I will show thee no reason fort._ FABIAN. A good note, that keeps you from the blow of the law. SIR TOBY. _Thou comest to the Lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for._ FABIAN. Very brief, and to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028043 | exceeding good senseless. SIR TOBY. _I will waylay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me_ FABIAN. Good. SIR TOBY. _Thou killst me like a rogue and a villain._ FABIAN. Still you keep o th windy side of the law. Good. SIR TOBY. _Fare thee well, and God have mercy upon one of our souls! He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028044 | may have mercy upon mine, but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, Andrew Aguecheek._ If this letter move him not, his legs cannot. Ill givet him. MARIA. You may have very fit occasion fort. He is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028045 | by depart. SIR TOBY. Go, Sir Andrew. Scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bum-baily. So soon as ever thou seest him, draw, and as thou drawst, swear horrible, for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028046 | have earned him. Away. SIR ANDREW. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [_Exit._] SIR TOBY. Now will not I deliver his letter, for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less. Therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028047 | terror in the youth. He will find it comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek notable report of valour, and drive the gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receive it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028048 | both that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices. Enter Olivia and Viola. FABIAN. Here he comes with your niece; give them way till he take leave, and presently after him. SIR TOBY. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge. [_Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian and Maria._] OLIVIA. I have said too much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028049 | unto a heart of stone, And laid mine honour too unchary ont: Theres something in me that reproves my fault: But such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks reproof. VIOLA. With the same haviour that your passion bears Goes on my masters griefs. OLIVIA. Here, wear this jewel for me, tis my picture. Refuse it not, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028050 | it hath no tongue to vex you. And I beseech you come again tomorrow. What shall you ask of me that Ill deny, That honour savd, may upon asking give? VIOLA. Nothing but this, your true love for my master. OLIVIA. How with mine honour may I give him that Which I have given to you? VIOLA. I will acquit | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028051 | you. OLIVIA. Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well; A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. [_Exit._] Enter Sir Toby and Fabian. SIR TOBY. Gentleman, God save thee. VIOLA. And you, sir. SIR TOBY. That defence thou hast, betake thee tot. Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not, but thy intercepter, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028052 | full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end. Dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly. VIOLA. You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel to me. My remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man. SIR | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028053 | TOBY. Youll find it otherwise, I assure you. Therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard, for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withal. VIOLA. I pray you, sir, what is he? SIR TOBY. He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier, and on carpet consideration, but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028054 | he is a devil in private brawl. Souls and bodies hath he divorced three, and his incensement at this moment is so implacable that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre. Hob, nob is his word; givet or taket. VIOLA. I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady. I am | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028055 | no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirk. SIR TOBY. Sir, no. His indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury; therefore, get you on and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028056 | undertake that with me which with as much safety you might answer him. Therefore on, or strip your sword stark naked, for meddle you must, thats certain, or forswear to wear iron about you. VIOLA. This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028057 | is. It is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose. SIR TOBY. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. [_Exit Sir Toby._] VIOLA. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? FABIAN. I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028058 | VIOLA. I beseech you, what manner of man is he? FABIAN. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028059 | towards him? I will make your peace with him if I can. VIOLA. I shall be much bound to you fort. I am one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle. [_Exeunt._] Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew. SIR TOBY. Why, man, hes a very devil. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028060 | have not seen such a firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in with such a mortal motion that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hits the ground they step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy. SIR ANDREW. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028061 | Pox ont, Ill not meddle with him. SIR TOBY. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. SIR ANDREW. Plague ont, an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, Id have seen him damned ere Id have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and Ill give him my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028062 | horse, grey Capilet. SIR TOBY. Ill make the motion. Stand here, make a good show ont. This shall end without the perdition of souls. [_Aside._] Marry, Ill ride your horse as well as I ride you. Enter Fabian and Viola. [_To Fabian._] I have his horse to take up the quarrel. I have persuaded him the youths a devil. FABIAN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028063 | He is as horribly conceited of him, and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels. SIR TOBY. Theres no remedy, sir, he will fight with you fors oath sake. Marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of. Therefore, draw for the supportance of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028064 | his vow; he protests he will not hurt you. VIOLA. [_Aside._] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man. FABIAN. Give ground if you see him furious. SIR TOBY. Come, Sir Andrew, theres no remedy, the gentleman will for his honours sake have one bout with you. He cannot | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028065 | by the duello avoid it; but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on: tot. SIR ANDREW. [_Draws._] Pray God he keep his oath! Enter Antonio. VIOLA. [_Draws._] I do assure you tis against my will. ANTONIO. Put up your sword. If this young gentleman Have done offence, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028066 | take the fault on me. If you offend him, I for him defy you. SIR TOBY. You, sir? Why, what are you? ANTONIO. [_Draws._] One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will. SIR TOBY. [_Draws._] Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you. Enter Officers. FABIAN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028067 | O good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the officers. SIR TOBY. [_To Antonio._] Ill be with you anon. VIOLA. [_To Sir Andrew._] Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please. SIR ANDREW. Marry, will I, sir; and for that I promised you, Ill be as good as my word. He will bear you easily, and reins well. FIRST OFFICER. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028068 | This is the man; do thy office. SECOND OFFICER. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of Count Orsino. ANTONIO. You do mistake me, sir. FIRST OFFICER. No, sir, no jot. I know your favour well, Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. Take him away, he knows I know him well. ANTONIO. I must obey. This comes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028069 | with seeking you; But theres no remedy, I shall answer it. What will you do? Now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse. It grieves me Much more for what I cannot do for you, Than what befalls myself. You stand amazd, But be of comfort. SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, away. ANTONIO. I must entreat of you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028070 | some of that money. VIOLA. What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have showd me here, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability Ill lend you something. My having is not much; Ill make division of my present with you. Hold, theres half my coffer. ANTONIO. Will you deny me now? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028071 | Ist possible that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you. VIOLA. I know of none, Nor know I you by voice or any feature. I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028072 | vainness, babbling, drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood. ANTONIO. O heavens themselves! SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, I pray you go. ANTONIO. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here I snatchd one half out of the jaws of death, Relievd him with such sanctity of love; And to his image, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028073 | which methought did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion. FIRST OFFICER. Whats that to us? The time goes by. Away! ANTONIO. But O how vile an idol proves this god! Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. In nature theres no blemish but the mind; None can be calld deformd but the unkind. Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028074 | evil Are empty trunks, oerflourished by the devil. FIRST OFFICER. The man grows mad, away with him. Come, come, sir. ANTONIO. Lead me on. [_Exeunt Officers with Antonio._] VIOLA. Methinks his words do from such passion fly That he believes himself; so do not I. Prove true, imagination, O prove true, That I, dear brother, be now taen for you! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028075 | SIR TOBY. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian. Well whisper oer a couplet or two of most sage saws. VIOLA. He namd Sebastian. I my brother know Yet living in my glass; even such and so In favour was my brother, and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate. O if it prove, Tempests are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028076 | kind, and salt waves fresh in love! [_Exit._] SIR TOBY. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare. His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian. FABIAN. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. SIR ANDREW. Slid, Ill after him again and beat | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028077 | him. SIR TOBY. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword. SIR ANDREW. And I do not [_Exit._] FABIAN. Come, lets see the event. SIR TOBY. I dare lay any money twill be nothing yet. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV. SCENE I. The Street before Olivias House. Enter Sebastian and Clown. CLOWN. Will you make me believe that I am not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028078 | sent for you? SEBASTIAN. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow. Let me be clear of thee. CLOWN. Well held out, i faith! No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028079 | nose neither. Nothing that is so, is so. SEBASTIAN. I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else, Thou knowst not me. CLOWN. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028080 | strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall I vent to her that thou art coming? SEBASTIAN. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me. Theres money for thee; if you tarry longer I shall give worse payment. CLOWN. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get themselves a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028081 | good reportafter fourteen years purchase. Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby and Fabian. SIR ANDREW. Now sir, have I met you again? Theres for you. [_Striking Sebastian._] SEBASTIAN. Why, theres for thee, and there, and there. Are all the people mad? [_Beating Sir Andrew._] SIR TOBY. Hold, sir, or Ill throw your dagger oer the house. CLOWN. This will I tell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028082 | my lady straight. I would not be in some of your coats for twopence. [_Exit Clown._] SIR TOBY. Come on, sir, hold! SIR ANDREW. Nay, let him alone, Ill go another way to work with him. Ill have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria. Though I struck him first, yet its no matter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028083 | for that. SEBASTIAN. Let go thy hand! SIR TOBY. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed. Come on. SEBASTIAN. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou darst tempt me further, draw thy sword. [_Draws._] SIR TOBY. What, what? Nay, then, I must | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028084 | have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [_Draws._] Enter Olivia. OLIVIA. Hold, Toby! On thy life I charge thee hold! SIR TOBY. Madam. OLIVIA. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, Where manners neer were preachd! Out of my sight! Be not offended, dear Cesario. Rudesby, be gone! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028085 | [_Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian._] I prithee, gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botchd up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028086 | Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, He started one poor heart of mine, in thee. SEBASTIAN. What relish is in this? How runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream. Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! OLIVIA. Nay, come, I prithee. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028087 | Would thoudst be ruled by me! SEBASTIAN. Madam, I will. OLIVIA. O, say so, and so be! [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. A Room in Olivias House. Enter Maria and Clown. MARIA. Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate. Do it quickly. Ill call Sir Toby the whilst. [_Exit Maria._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028088 | CLOWN. Well, Ill put it on, and I will dissemble myself int, and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good student, but to be said, an honest man and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028089 | to say, a careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter. Enter Sir Toby and Maria. SIR TOBY. Jove bless thee, Master Parson. CLOWN. _Bonos dies_, Sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, That that is, is: so I, being Master Parson, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028090 | am Master Parson; for what is that but that? and is but is? SIR TOBY. To him, Sir Topas. CLOWN. What ho, I say! Peace in this prison! SIR TOBY. The knave counterfeits well. A good knave. Malvolio within. MALVOLIO. Who calls there? CLOWN. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic. MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028091 | good Sir Topas, go to my lady. CLOWN. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? Talkest thou nothing but of ladies? SIR TOBY. Well said, Master Parson. MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad. They have laid me here in hideous darkness. CLOWN. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028092 | thee by the most modest terms, for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy. Sayst thou that house is dark? MALVOLIO. As hell, Sir Topas. CLOWN. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clerestories toward the south-north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction? MALVOLIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028093 | I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark. CLOWN. Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but ignorance, in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog. MALVOLIO. I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say there was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028094 | never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are. Make the trial of it in any constant question. CLOWN. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wildfowl? MALVOLIO. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. CLOWN. What thinkst thou of his opinion? MALVOLIO. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028095 | his opinion. CLOWN. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness. Thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas! SIR TOBY. My most exquisite Sir Topas! CLOWN. Nay, I am for all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028096 | waters. MARIA. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown. He sees thee not. SIR TOBY. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findst him. I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he were, for I am now so far in offence with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028097 | my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. [_Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria._] CLOWN. [_Singing._] _Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does._ MALVOLIO. Fool! CLOWN. _My lady is unkind, perdy._ MALVOLIO. Fool! CLOWN. _Alas, why is she so?_ MALVOLIO. Fool, I say! CLOWN. _She | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028098 | loves another_ Who calls, ha? MALVOLIO. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper. As I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee fort. CLOWN. Master Malvolio? MALVOLIO. Ay, good fool. CLOWN. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? MALVOLIO. Fool, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028099 | there was never man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. CLOWN. But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool. MALVOLIO. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face | 60 | gutenberg |
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