READ STUDY GUIDE: Act II, scenes iii–iv |
|
Act II, Scene iii:
OLIVIA'S house
OLIVIA'S house
| [Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW.] |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up |
| betimes; and 'diluculo surgere,' thou know'st— |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I know, to be up late is to be |
| up late. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfill'd can. To be up after |
| midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that to go to bed |
| after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life |
| consist of the four elements? |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and |
| drinking. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Thou 'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I |
| say! a stoup of wine! |
| [Enter CLOWN.] |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Here comes the fool, i' faith. |
| CLOWN: |
| How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture of 'We Three'? |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than |
| forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, |
| as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling |
| last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians |
| passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 't was very good, i' faith. I |
| sent thee sixpence for thy leman; hadst it? |
| CLOWN: |
| I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no |
| whipstock; my lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no |
| bottle-ale houses. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, |
| a song. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| There's a testril of me too. If one knight give a— |
| CLOWN: |
| Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? |
| SIR TOBY: |
| A love-song, a love-song. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Ay, ay; I care not for good life. |
| CLOWN: |
| [Sings.] |
 O mistress mine, where are you roaming? |
| O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, |
| That can sing both high and low: |
| Trip no further, pretty sweeting; |
| Journeys end in lovers meeting, |
| Every wise man's son doth know. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Excellent good, i' faith. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Good, good. |
| CLOWN: |
| [Sings.] |
| What is love? 'T is not hereafter; |
| Present mirth hath present laughter; |
| What's to come is still unsure. |
| In delay there lies no plenty, |
| Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, |
| Youth's a stuff will not endure. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| A contagious breath. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make |
| the welkin dance indeed? shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch |
| that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that? |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| And you love me, let's do 't; I am dog at a catch. |
| CLOWN: |
| By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.' |
| CLOWN: |
| 'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be constrain'd in |
| 't to call thee knave, knight. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. |
| Begin, fool: it begins, 'Hold thy peace.' |
| CLOWN: |
| I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Good, i' faith! Come, begin. |
| [Catch sung.] |
| [Enter MARIA.] |
| MARIA: |
| What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not call'd |
| up her steward Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, |
| never trust me. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a |
| Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' |
| Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally; |
| lady![Sings.]'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!' |
| CLOWN: |
| Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too; he |
| does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| [Sings] |
| 'O, the twelfth day of December,'— |
| MARIA: |
| For the love o' God, peace! |
| [Enter MALVOLIO.] |
| MALVOLIO: |
| My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, |
| manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of |
| night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak |
| out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of |
| voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? |
| SIR TOBY: |
| We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! |
| MALVOLIO: |
| Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you |
| that, though she harbours you as her kins-man, she's nothing |
| allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your |
| misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, and it would |
| please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you |
| farewell. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| 'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.' |
| MARIA: |
| Nay, good Sir Toby. |
| CLOWN: |
| 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.' |
| MALVOLIO: |
| Is 't even so? |
| SIR TOBY: |
| 'But I will never die.' |
| CLOWN: |
| Sir Toby, there you lie. |
| MALVOLIO: |
| This is much credit to you. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| 'Shall I bid him go?' |
| CLOWN: |
| 'What and if you do?' |
| SIR TOBY: |
| 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?' |
| CLOWN: |
| 'O, no, no, no, no, you dare not.' |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Out o' tune, sir? ye lie. Art any more than a steward? Dost thou |
| think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes |
| and ale? |
| CLOWN: |
| Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' th' mouth too. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Th 'rt i' th' right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A |
| stoup of wine, Maria! |
| MALVOLIO: |
| Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's favour at any thing more |
| than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule. |
| She shall know of it, by this hand. |
| [Exit.] |
| MARIA: |
| Go shake your ears. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| 'T were as good a deed as to drink when a man's a-hungry, to |
| challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him and |
| make a fool of him. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy |
| indignation to him by word of mouth. |
| MARIA: |
| Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the |
| count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For |
| Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him; if I do not gull him |
| into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I |
| have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. |
| MARIA: |
| Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog! |
| SIR TOBY: |
| What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight? |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| I have no exquisite reason for 't, but I have reason good enough. |
| MARIA: |
| The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly, but a |
| time-pleaser; an affection'd ass, that cons state without book, |
| and utters it by great swarths; the best persuaded of himself, so |
| cramm'd, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his grounds |
| of faith that all that look on him love him; and on that vice in |
| him will my revenge find notable cause to work. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| What wilt thou do? |
| MARIA: |
| I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by |
| the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his |
| gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and |
| complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I |
| can write very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we |
| can hardly make distinction of our hands. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Excellent! I smell a device. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| I have 't in my nose too. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they |
| come from my niece, and that she's in love with him. |
| MARIA: |
| My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| And your horse now would make him an ass. |
| MARIA: |
| Ass, I doubt not. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| O, 't will be admirable! |
| MARIA: |
| Sport royal, I warrant you; I know my physic will work with him. |
| I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he |
| shall find the letter; observe his construction of it. For |
| this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. |
| [Exit.] |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Good night, Penthesilea. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| Before me, she's a good wench. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me. What o' that? |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| I was ador'd once too. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i' th' end, call me |
| cut. |
| SIR ANDREW: |
| If I do not, never trust me; take it how you will. |
| SIR TOBY: |
| Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 't is too late to go to bed |
| now. Come, knight; come, knight. |
| [Exeunt.] |
|
|
||||
|
