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[18], 303, [1], 46, 49-100, [2], 69-232, [2], 79-80, [26], 76, 79-82, 80-98, [2], 109-156, 257-993 [i.e. 399], [1] p.; fol.
Numbering peculiarities: 1st count: p.50 misnumbered 58; p.59 misnumbered 51; p.86 misnumbered 88; p.153 misnumbered 151; p.161 misnumbered] 163; p.164 misnumbered 162; p. 165 misnumbered 163; p. 189 misnumbered 187; p. 249 misnumbered 251; p.250 misnumbered 252; p. 265 misnumbered 273 -- 2nd count: p.37 misnumbered 39 in some copies; p.89 misnumbered 91; p. 90 misnumbered 92 -- 3rd count: p.165-166 numbered 167 and 168 respectively; p. 216 numbered 218 -- 5th count: p. 279 misnumbered 259; p. 282 misnumbered 280; p.308 misnumbered 38; p. 379 misnumbered 389; p. 399 misnumbered 993.
The signatures varies between sources, with the most commonly cited being Hinman's and West's: 1. Hinman: πA⁶ (πA1+1) [πB²], ²A-2B⁶ 2C² a-g⁶ χgg⁸ h-v⁶ x⁴ χ1.2 [para.]-2[para.]⁶ 3[para]¹ aa-ff⁶ gg² Gg⁶ hh⁶ kk-bbb⁶; 2. West: πA⁶ (πA1+1, πA5+1.2)²A-2B⁶ 2C² a-g⁶ ²g⁸ h-v⁶ x⁴ 'gg3.4' (±'gg3') [para.]-2[para.]⁶ 3[para]¹ 2a-2f⁶ 2g² 2G⁶ 2h⁶ 2k-2v⁶ x⁶ 2y-3b⁶.
Mis-signed leaves: a3 mis-signed Aa3; ³gg1 mis-signed Gg; nn1-nn2 mis-signed Nn and Nn2 and oo1 mis-signed Oo.
"The life and death of King Iohn" begins new pagination on leaf a1 recto; "The tragedy of Coriolanus" begins new pagination on leaf aa1 recto.
Predominantly printed in double columns.
Text within simple lined frame.
Colophon reads: "Printed at the charges of W. Iaggard, Ed. Blount, I. Smithweeke, and W. Aspley. 1623.".
Editors’ dedication signed: Iohn Heminge. Henry Condell.
Two MS verses on first endpaper verso: 1. 9 lines of verse by an unknown author, first line reads "An active swain to make a leap was seen". 2. A copy of Ben Jonson’s printed "To the Reader"; MS note on t.p. (mutilated) appears to read "Honest [Shakes]peare". Minor annotations on leaf 2n4 (Macbeth). All in an early English hand, presumably added after leaving the Library.
Seventeenth-century (1624) English (Oxford) smooth calf. Bound for the Bodleian Library by William Wildgoose, with evidence of two cloth ties, red sprinkled edge. Formerly chained, with evidence of chain staple at the head of the upper cover. Remains of paper label at the head of the spine. Enclosed in 20th century book box by Maltby of Oxford. See S. Gibson in Original Bodleian Copy of First Folio, p. 12-13. One of four items sent out on 17th February 1624 for binding by Wildgoose containing printed waste from a copy of Cicero’s "De Officiis, et al." [Deventer: Richard Pafraet, between 1480 and 1485] as paste-downs. For more information on this work see: Bod. Inc. Cat., C-322.
For further details on the printing of this item see Hinman, Charleton. The printing and proof-reading of the First Folio of Shakespeare: Oxford, 1963.
Acquired by the Bodleian in 1623, presumably in sheets. It
was sent out to
After leaving the Bodleian this copy entered
the collection of
For a full discussion of this copy and the digital version see http://shakespeare.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/ and West and Rasmussen (2011), 31.
What a plague meanes my Neece to take the
death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to
life.
By my troth sir Toby, you must come in earlyer
a nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions
to your ill houres.
Why let her except, before excepted.
I, but you must confine your selfe within the
modest limits of order.
Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am:
these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee
these boots too: and they be not, let them hang them
selues in their owne straps.
That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I
heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish
knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer
Who, Sir Andrew Ague‑cheeke?
I he.
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
What's that to th'purpose?
Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare.
Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol‑de‑gam
boys, and speaks three or four languages word for word
without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature.
He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that
he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath
the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrel
ling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely
haue the gift of a graue.
By this hand they are scoundrels and substra
ctors that say so of him. Who are they?
They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly
in your company.
With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke
to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke
in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not
drinke to my Neece. till his braines turne o'th toe, like
a parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo: for here coms
Sir Andrew Agueface.
Sir Toby Belch. How now sir Toby Belch?
Sweet sir Andrew.
Blesse you faire Shrew.
And you too sir.
Accost Sir Andrew, accost.
What's that?
My Neeces Chamber‑maid.
Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance
My name is Mary sir.
Good mistris Mary, accost.
You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord
her, woe her, assayle her.
By my troth I would not vndertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of Accost?
Far you well Gentlemen.
And thou let part so Sir Andrew, would thou
mightst neuer draw sword agen.
And you part so mistris, I would I might neuer
draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue
fooles in hand?
Sir, I haue not you by'th hand.
Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand.
Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your
hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke.
Wherefore (sweet‑heart
phor?
It's dry sir.
Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I
can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest?
A dry iest Sir.
Are you full of them?
I Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now
I let go your hand, I am barren.
O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did
Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Ca
narie put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no
more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I
am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme
to my wit.
No question
And I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride
home to morrow sir Toby.
Pur‑quoy my deere knight?
What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had
bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing
dancing, and beare‑bayting: O had I but followed the
Arts.
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire.
Why, would that haue mended my haire?
Past question, for thou seest it will not coole
my
But it becoms me wel enough, dost not?
Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope
to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off.
Faith Ile home to morrow sir Toby, your niece wil
not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me:
the Co
Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir
degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her
swear t. Tut there's life in't man.
Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th
strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Re
uels sometimes altogether.
Art thou good at these kicke‑chawses Knight
As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder
the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with
an old man.
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Faith, I can cut a caper.
And I can cut the Mutton too't.
And I thinke I haue the backe‑tricke, simply as
strong as any man in Illyria.
Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue
these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take
dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe
to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto
My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much
as make water but in a Sinke‑a‑pace: What dooest thou
meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by
the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vn
der the starre of a Galliard.
I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?
What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder
Taurus?
Taurus? That sides and heart.
No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee ca
per. Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.
If the Duke continue these fauours towards you
Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known
you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger.
You either feare his humour, or my negligence,
that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is
he inconstant sir, in his fauours.
No beleeue me.
I thanke you: heere comes the Count.
Who saw Cesario hoa?
On your attendance my Lord heere.
Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?
I thinke not so, my Lord.
Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will
not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way
of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence.
Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this
world, needs to feare no colours.
Make that good.
He shall see none to feare.
A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y
saying was borne, of I feare no colours.
Where good mistris Mary?
In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in
your foolerie.
Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: &
those that are fooles, let them vse their talents.
Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent,
or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a h
you?
Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage:
and for turning away, let summer beare it out.
You are resolute then?
Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points
That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both
breake, your gaskins fall.
Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if
sir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece
of Eues flesh, as any in Illyria.
Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my
Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling:
those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue
fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a
wise man. For what saies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole,
then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady.
Take the foole away.
Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie.
Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: be
sides you grow dis‑honest.
Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell
wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole
not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend,
he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher
mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu
that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that a
mends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple
Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not,
As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a
flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I
say againe, take her away.
Sir, I bad them take away you.
Misprision in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus
non facit monachum: that's as much to say, as I weare not
Can you do it
Dexteriously, good Madona.
Make your proofe.
I must catechize you for it Madona, Good my
Mouse of vertue answer mee.
Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your
proofe.
Good Madona, why mournst thou?
Good foole, for my brothers death.
I thinke his soule is in hell, Madona.
I know his soule is in heauen, foole.
The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your
Brothers soule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole,
Gentlemen.
What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he
not mend?
Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake
him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the
better foole.
God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the
better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that
I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence
that you are no Foole.
How say you to that Maluolio?
I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in such
a barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, with
an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone.
Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you
laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest
I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of
fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies.
O you are sicke of selfe‑loue Maluolio, and taste
with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse,
and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird‑
bolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slan
der in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle;
nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee do
nothing but reproue.
Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou
speak'st well of fooles.
Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentle
man, much desires to speake with you.
From the Count Orsino, is it?
I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and
well attended.
Who of my people hold him in delay?
Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman.
Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing but
madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a
from the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What you
will, to dismisse it.
Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & peo
ple dislike it.
Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest
sonne should be a foole: who se scull, Ioue cramme with
braines, for heere he comes.
One of thy kin has a most weake Pia‑mater.
By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the
gate Cosin?
A Gentleman.
A Gentleman? What Gentleman?
'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle
herring: How now Sot.
Good Sir Toby.
Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by
this Lethargie?
Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the
gate.
I marry, what is he?
Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: giue
me faith say I. Well, it's all one.
What's a drunken man like, foole?
Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man:
One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second
maddes him, and a third drownes him.
Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitte
o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's
drown'd: go looke after him.
He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shall
looke to the madman.
Madam, yond young fellow sweares hee will
speake with you. I told him you were sicke, he takes on
him to vnderstand so much, and therefore comes to speak
with you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to haue
a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to
speake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee's
fortified against any deniall.
Tell him, he shall not speake with me.
Ha's beene told so: and hee sayes hee'l stand at
your doore like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter to
a bench, but hee'l speake with you.
What kinde o'man is he?
Why of mankinde.
What manner of man?
Of verie ill manner: hee'l speake with you, will
you, or no.
Of what personage, and yeeres is he
Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enough
for a boy: as a squash is before tis a pescod, or a Codling
when tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standing wa
ter, betweene boy and man. He is verie well‑fauour'd,
and he speakes verie shrewishly: One would thinke his
mothers milke were scarse out of him.
Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman.
Gentlewoman, my Lady calles.
The honorable Ladie of the house, which is she?
Speake to me, I shall answer for her: your will.
Most radiant, exquisite, and vnmatchable beau
tie. I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house,
for I neuer saw her. I would bee loath to cast away my
speech: for besides that it is excellently well pend, I haue
taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee su
staine no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the least
sinister vsage.
Whence came you sir?
I can say little more then I haue studied, & that
question's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee
modest assurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, that
I may proceede in my speech.
Are you a Comedian?
No my profound heart: and yet (by the verie
phangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are you
the Ladie of the house?
If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am.
Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp your
selfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to re
serue. But this is from my Commission: I will on with
my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of
my message.
Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you
the praise.
Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis
Poeticall.
It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep
it in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your
approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If
you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe:
'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so
skipping a dialogue.
Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way.
No good swabber, I am to hull here a little lon
ger. Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie;
tell me your minde, I am a messenger.
Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer,
when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office.
It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouer
ture of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe
in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter.
Yet you began rudely. What are you?
What would you
The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue I
learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
would, are as secret as maiden‑head: to your eares, Di
uinity; to any others, prophanation.
Giue vs the place alone,
We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?
Most sweet Ladie.
A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saide
of it. Where lies your Text?
In Orsinoes bosome.
In his bosome
To answer by the method in the first of his hart.
O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more
to say?
Good Madam, let me see your face.
Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to
negotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text:
but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture.
Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well
done?
Excellently done, if God did all.
'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and wea
ther.
O sir, I will not be so hard‑hearted: I will giue
out diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried
and euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my will: As,
Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes,
with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth.
Were you sent hither to praise me?
How does he loue me?
Why, what would you?
Heere Madam, at your seruice.
Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that
I go with you.
By your patience, no: my starres shine darkely
ouer me; the malignancie of my fate, might perhaps di
temper yours; therefore I shall craue of you your leaue,
that I may beare my euils alone. It were a bad recom
pence for your loue, to lay any of them on you.
Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.
No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is meere
extrauagancie. But I perceiue in you so excellent a touch
of modestie, that you will not extort from me, what I am
willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me in manners,
the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee
then Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I call'd Rodo
rigo) my father was that
Alas the day.
A Lady sir, though it
bled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but thogh
I could not with such estimable wonder ouer‑farre be
leeue that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish her, shee
bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is
drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to
drowne her remembrance againe with more.
Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment.
O good Antonio, forgiue me your trouble.
If you will not murther me for my loue, let m
be your seruant.
If you will not vndo what you haue done, that is
kill him, whom you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare
ye well at once, my bosome is full of kindnesse, and I
am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that vpon the
least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am
bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.
Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse O
liuia?
Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since a
riu'd but hither.
She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might
haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your
selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord
into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one
thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe
in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking
of this: receiue it so.
She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it.
Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and
her will is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stoo
ping for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that
findes it.
Approach Sir Andrew: not to bee a bedde after
midnight, is to be vp betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou
know'st.
Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to
be vp late, is to be vp late.
A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne.
To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early:
so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed be
times. Does not our liues consist of the foure Ele
ments?
Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather consists
of eating and drinking.
Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke
Marian I say, a stoope of wine.
Heere comes the foole yfaith.
How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Pic
ture of we three?
Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch.
By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I
had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so
sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth thou wast
in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of
Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians pasing the Equinoctial of
Queubus: 'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence
for thy Lemon, hadst it?
I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Maluolios nose
is no Whip‑stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the
Mermidons are no bottle‑ale houses.
Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when
all is done. Now a song.
Come on, there is sixe pence for you. Let's haue
a song.
There's a testrill of me too: if one knight giue a
Would you haue a loue‑song, or a song of good
life?
A loue song, a loue song.
I, I. I care not for good life.
Excellent good, ifaith.
Good, good.
A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight.
A contagious breath.
Very sweet, and contagious ifaith.
To heare by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee
rowze the night‑Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three
soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do that?
And you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a
Catch.
Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Most cThou Knaue.
Hold thy peace, thou Knaue knight. I shall be con
strained in't, to call thee knaue, Knight.
'Tis not the first time I haue constrained one to
call me knaue. Begin foole: it begins, Hold thy peace.
I shall neuer begin if I hold my peace.
Good ifaith: Come begin.
What a catterwalling doe you keepe heere? If
my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward Maluolio, and
bid him turne you out of doores, neuer trust me.
My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Maluolios
a Peg‑a‑ramsie, and Three merry men be wee. Am not I
consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. La
die, There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.
Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling.
I, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so
do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more
naturall.
O the twelfe day of December.
For the loue o' God peace.
My masters are you mad? Or what are you?
Haue you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble
like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Ale
house of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out your Cozi
ers Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice?
Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
We did keepe time sir in our Catches. Snecke vp.
Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady
bad me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kins
man, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can
separate your selfe and your misdemeanors, you are wel
come to the house: if not, and it would please you to take
leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.
Nay good Sir Toby.
This is much credit to you.
Out o' tune sir, ye lye: Art any more then a Stew
ard? Dost thou thinke because thou art vertuous, there
shall be no more Cakes and Ale?
Yes by S. Anne, and Ginger shall bee hotte y'th
Th'art i'th right. Goe sir, rub your Chaine with
crums. A stope of Wine Maria.
Mistris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies fauour
at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue
meanes for this vnciuill rule; she shall know of it by this
hand.
Go shake your eares.
'Twere as good a deede as to drink when a mans
a hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake
promise with him, and make a foole of him.
Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile
deliuer thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since
the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone
with him: If I do not gull him into an ayword, and make
him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte e
nough to lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it.
Possesse vs, possesse vs, tell vs something of him.
Marrie sir, sometimes he is a kinde of Puritane.
O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge.
What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason,
deere knight.
I haue no exquisite reason for't, but I haue reason
good enough.
The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing
constantly but a time‑pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that
cons State without booke, and vtters it by great swarths.
The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd (as he thinkes)
with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that
all
that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him,
will
my reuenge finde notable cause to worke.
What wilt thou do?
I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of
loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his
legge, the manner of his gate, the expressure of his eye,
forehead, and complection, he shall finde himselfe most
feelingly personated. I can write very like my Ladie
your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make
distinction of our hands.
Excellent, I smell a deuice.
I hau't in my nose too.
He shall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop
that they come from
with him.
My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.
And your horse now would make him an Asse.
Asse, I doubt not.
O twill be admirable.
Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Phy
sicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let
the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter:
obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and
dreame on the euent: Farewell.
Good night Penthisilea.
Before me she's a good wench.
She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me:
what o'that?
I was ador'd once too.
Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for
more money.
If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way
out.
Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th
end, call me Cut.
If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will.
Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late
to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.
He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that
should sing it?
Who was it?
Feste the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie
Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the
house.
Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.
About your yeeres my Lord.
I thinke it well my Lord.
No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir.
Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or
another.
Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the
Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy
minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constan
cie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing,
and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes
makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
But if she cannot loue you sir.
It cannot be so answer'd.
Come thy wayes Signior Fabian.
Nay Ile come: if I loose a scruple of this sport,
let me be boyl'd to death with Melancholly.
Wouldst thou not be glad to haue the niggard
ly Rascally sheepe‑biter, come by some notable shame?
I would exult man: you know he brought me out
o'fauour with my Lady, about a Beare‑baiting heere.
To anger him wee'l haue the Beare againe, and
we will foole him blacke and blew, shall we not sir An
drew?
And we do not, it is pittie of our liues.
Heere comes the little villaine: How now my
Mettle of India
Get ye all three into the box tree: Maluolio's
comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder i'the
Sunne practising behauiour to his own shadow this halfe
houre: obserue him for the loue of Mockerie: for I know
this Letter wil make a contemplatiue Ideot of him. Close
in the name of ieasting, lye thou there: for heere comes
the Trowt, that must be caught with tickling.
'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune. Maria once
told me she did affect me, and I haue heard her self come
thus neere, that should shee fancie, it should bee one of
my complection. Besides she vses me with a more ex
alted respect, then any one else that followes her. What
should I thinke on't?
Heere's an ouer‑weening rogue.
Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey
Cocke of him, how he iets vnder his aduanc'd plumes.
Slight I could so beate the Rogue.
Peace I say.
To be Count Maluolio.
Ah Rogue.
Pistoll him, pistoll him.
Peace, peace.
There is example for't: The Lady of the Stra
chy, married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
Fie on him Iezabel.
O peace, now he's deepely in: looke how imagi
nation blowes him.
Hauing beene three moneths married to her,
sitting in my state.
O for a stone‑bow to hit him in the eye.
Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd
Veluet gowne: hauing come from a day bedde, where I
haue left Oliuia sleeping.
Fire and Brimstone.
O peace, peace.
And then to haue the humor of state: and after
a demure trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my
place, as I would they should doe theirs: to aske for my
kinsman Toby.
Boltes and shackles.
Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now.
Seauen of my people with an obedient start,
make out for him: I frowne the while, and perchance
winde vp my watch, or play with my some rich Iewell:
Toby approaches; curtsies there to me.
Shall this fellow liue?
Though our silence be drawne from vs with cars,
yet peace.
And do's not Toby take you a blow o'the lippes,
then?
Saying, Cosine Toby, my Fortunes hauing cast
me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of speech.
What, what?
You must amend your drunkennesse.
Out scab.
Nay patience, or we breake the sinewes of our
plot
Besides you waste the treasure of your time,
with a foolish knight.
That's mee I warrant you.
One sir Andrew.
I knew 'twas I, for many do call mee foole.
What employment haue we heere?
Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin.
Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate rea
ding aloud to him.
By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her
very C s, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes shee
great P's. It is in contempt of question her hand.
Her C's, her V's, and her T's: why that?
To the vnknowne belou'd, this, and my good Wishes:
Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax. Soft, and the im
pressure her Lucrece, with which she vses to seale: tis my
Lady: To whom should this be?
This winnes him, Liuer and all.
Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no
man must know. No man must know. What followes?
Marrie hang thee brocke.
A fustian riddle.
Excellent Wench, say I.
M.O.A.I. doth sway my life. Nay but first
let me see, let me see, let me see.
What dish a poyson has she drest him
And with what wing the stallion checkes at it?
I may command, where I adore: Why shee may
command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is
euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction
in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall po
sition portend, if I could make that resemble something
in me? Softly, M.O.A.I.
O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent.
Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee
as ranke as a Fox.
M. Maluolio, M: why that begins my name.
Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre
is excellent at faults.
M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequell
that suffers vnder probation: A. should follow, but O.
does.
And O shall end, I hope.
I, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry O.
And then I. comes behind.
I, and you had any eye behinde you, you might
see more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before
you.
M,O,A,I. This simulation is not as the former:
and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to mee, for e
uery one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here fol
lowes prose: If this fall into thy hand, reuolue. In my stars
I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatnesse: Some
are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and
haue greatnesse thrust vppon em. Thy fates open theyr
hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to in
ure thy selfe to what thou art like to be:cast thy humble
slough, and appeare fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman,
surly with seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of
state; put thy selfe into the tricke of singularitie. Shee
thus aduises thee, that sighes for thee. Remember who
commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee
euer crosse garter'd: I say remember, goe too, thou art
made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a ste
ward still, the fellow of seruants, and not woorthie to
touch Fortunes fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter
seruices with thee, the fortunate vnhappy daylight and
champian discouers not more: This is open, I will bee
proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir
Toby, I will wash off grosse acquaintance, I will be point
deuise, the very man. I do not now foole my selfe, to let
imagination iade mee; for euery reason excites to this,
that my Lady loues mè. She did commend my yellow
stockings of late, shee did praise my legge being crosse‑
garter'd, and in this she manifests her selfe to my loue, &
with a kinde of iniunction driues mee to these habites of
her liking. I thanke my starres, I am happy: I will bee
strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crosse Garter'd,
euen with the swiftnesse of putting on. Ioue, and my
starres be praised. Heere is yet a postscript. Thou canst
not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let
it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. There
fore in my presence still smile, deere my sweete, I prethee. Ioue
I will not giue my part of this sport for a pensi
on of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
I could marry this wench for this deuice.
So could I too.
And aske no other dowry with her, but such ano
ther iest.
Nor I neither.
Heere comes my noble gull catcher.
Wilt thou set thy foote o'my necke.
Or o'mine either?
Shall I play my freedome at tray‑trip, and becom
thy bondslaue?
Ifaith, or I either?
Why, thou hast put him in such a dreame, that
when the image of it leaues him, he must run mad.
Nay but say true, do's it worke vpon him?
Like Aqua vite with a Midwife.
If you will then see the fruites of the sport, mark
his first approach before my Lady: hee will come to her
in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhorres, and
crosse garter'd, a fashion shee detests: and hee will smile
vpon her, which will now be so vnsuteable to her dispo
sition, being addicted to a melancholly, as shee is, that it
cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil
see it follow me.
To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent diuell
of wit.
Ile make one too.
Saue thee Friend and thy Musick: dost thou liue
by thy Tabor?
No sir, I liue by the Church.
Art thou a Churchman?
No such matter sir, I do liue by the Church: For,
I do liue at my house, and my house dooth stand by the
Church.
So thou maist say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a
begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy Ta
bor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church.
You haue said sir: To see this age: A sentence is
but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the
wrong side may be turn'd outward.
Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with
words, may quickely make them wanton.
I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir.
Why man?
Why sir, her names a word, and to dallie with
that word, might make my sister wanton: But indeede,
words are very Rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them.
Thy reason man?
Troth sir, I can yeeld you none without wordes,
and wordes are growne so false, I am loath to proue rea
son with them.
I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for
nothing.
Not so sir, I do care for something: but in my con
science sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for no
thing sir, I would it would make you inuisible.
Art not thou the Lady Oliuia's foole?
No indeed sir, the Lady Oliuia has no folly, shee
will keepe no foole sir, till she be married, and fooles are
as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Hus
bands the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir cor
rupter of words.
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.
Foolery sir, does walke about the Orbe like the
sun, it shines euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the
foole should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mi
stris: I thinke I saw your wisedome there.
Nay, and thou passe vpon me, Ile no more with
thee Hold there's expences for thee.
Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, send
thee a beard.
By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost sicke for
one, though I would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is
my Lady within?
Would not a paire of these haue bred sir?
Yes being kept together, and put to vse.
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia sir, to bring
a Cresssida to this Troylus.
I vnderstand you sir, tis well begg'd.
The matter I hope is not great sir; begging, but a
begger: Cresssida was a begger. My Lady is within sir. I
will conster to them whence you come, who you are, and
what you would are out of my welkin, I might say Ele
ment, but the word is ouer‑worne.
Saue you Gentleman.
And you sir.
Dieu vou guard Monsieur.
Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture.
I hope sir, you are, and I am yours.
Will you incounter the house, my Neece is desi
rous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
I am bound to your Neece sir, I meane she is the
list of my voyage.
Taste your legges sir, put them to motion.
My legges do better vnderstand me sir, then I vn
derstand what you meane by bidding me taste my legs.
I meane to go sir, to enter.
I will answer you with gate and entrance, but we
are preuented.
Most excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine O
dours on you.
That youth's a rare Courtier, raine odours, wel.
My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne
most pregnant and vouchsafed eare.
Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: Ile get 'em
all three already.
Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to
my hearing. Giue me your hand sir.
No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer:
Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason.
You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir An
drew?
Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to the
Counts Seruing‐man, then euer she bestow'd vpon mee:
I saw't i'th Orchard.
Did she see the while, old boy, tell me that.
As plaine as I see you now.
This was a great argument of loue in her toward
you.
S'light; will you make an Asse o'me.
I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of
iudgement, and reason.
And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before
Noah was a Saylor.
Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight,
onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour,
to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer:
you should then haue accosted her, and with some excel
lent iests, fire‑new from the mint, you should haue bangd
the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your
hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this oppor
tunitie you let time wash off, and you are now sayld into
the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang
like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do re
deeme it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or
policie.
And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for
policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politi
cian.
Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of
valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him
hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note of it,
and assure thy selfe, there is no loue‑Broker in the world,
can more preuaile in mans commendation with woman,
then report of valour.
There is no way but this sir Andrew.
Will either of you beare me a challenge to him?
Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and briefe:
it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of
inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if thou
thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and as ma
ny Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the
sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in Eng
land, set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle e
nough in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose‑pen,
no matter: about it.
Where shall I finde you?
Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.
This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby.
I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand
strong, or so.
We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le
not deliuer't.
Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on
the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine‑ropes
cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd
and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the
foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy.
And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no
great presage of cruelty.
Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes.
If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your
selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is tur
ned Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian
that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer
beleeue such imposssible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in
yellow stockings.
And crosse garter'd?
Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a
Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murthe
rer. He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt,
to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes,
then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the
Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hard
ly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will
strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great
fauour.
Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.
No Madam, he does nothing but smile: your La
dyship were best to haue some guard about you, if hee
come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits.
Not blacke in my minde
legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall
be executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane
hand.
Wilt thou go to bed Maluolio?
To bed
God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and
kisse thy hand so oft
How do you Maluolio?
Why appeare you with this ridiculous bold
nesse before my Lady.
Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ.
What meanst thou by that Maluolio?
Some are borne great.
Ha?
Some atcheeue greatnesse.
What sayst thou?
And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon them.
Heauen restore thee.
Remember who commended thy yellow stock
ings.
Thy yellow stockings?
And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd.
Crosse garter'd?
Go too, thou art made,
Am I made?
If not, let me see thee a seruant still.
Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse.
Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count
Orsino's is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he
attends your Ladyships pleasure.
Ile come to him.
Good Maria, let this fellow be look d too. Where's my
Cosine Toby, let some of my people haue a speciall care
of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of
my Dowry.
Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse
man then sir Toby to looke to me. This concurres direct
ly with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may
appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in
the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be oppo
site with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue
langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the
tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the
manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow
tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth.
I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me
thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fel
low be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor after my
degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither,
that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no
obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What
can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene
me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I,
is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all
the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe
possest him, yet Ile speake to him.
Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir?
How ist with you man?
Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate:
go off.
Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him;
did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue
a care of him.
Ah ha, does she so?
Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale
gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio?
How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider,
he's an enemy to mankinde.
Do you know what you say?
La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, how
he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd.
Carry his water to th'wise woman.
Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning
if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile
say.
How now mistris?
Oh Lord.
Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe
you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him.
No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend
is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd.
Why how now my bawcock? how dost y
Sir.
I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for
grauity to play at cherrie‑pit with sathan Hang him foul
Colliar.
Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette
him to pray.
My prayers Minx.
No I warrant you, he will not heare of godly
nesse.
Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe
things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more
heereafter.
Ist posssible
If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could con
demne it as an improbable fiction.
His very genius hath taken the infection of the
deuice man.
Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre,
and taint.
Why we shall make him mad indeede.
The house will be the quieter.
Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound.
My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may
carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our ve
ry pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy
on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar
and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see.
More matter for a May morning.
Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's
vinegar and pepper in't.
Ist so sawcy?
I, ist? I warrant him: do but read.
Giue me.
Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow.
Good, and valiant.
Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call
thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't.
A good note, that keepes you from the blow of yͤ
Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vses
thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter
I challenge thee for.
Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence‑lesse.
I will way‑lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance
to kill me.
Good.
Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine.
Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good.
Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our
soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better,
and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy
sworne enemie, Andrew Ague‑cheeke.
If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot:
Ile giu't him.
You may haue verie fit occasion
in some commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by
depart.
Go sir Andrew: scout mee for him at the corner
of the Orchard like a bum‑Baylie: so soone as euer thou
seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for
ring accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more
approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd
him. Away.
Nay let me alone for swearing.
Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behaui
our of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good
capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his
Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this
Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror
in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde‑pole.
But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth;
set vpon Ague‑cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue
the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it)
into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and
impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil
kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.
Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way
till he take leaue, and presently after him.
I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid message
for a Challenge.
I will acquit you.
Gentleman, God saue thee.
And you sir.
That defence thou hast, betake the too't: of what
nature the w
but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hun
ter, attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke,
be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skil
full, and deadly.
You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quar
rell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from
any image of offence done to any man.
You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if
you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard:
for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill,
and wrath, can furnish man withall.
I pray you sir what is he?
He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and
on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall,
soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his incense
ment at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction
can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob,
nob, is his word: giu't or take't.
I will returne againe into the house, and desire
some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard
of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on o
thers, to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that
quirke.
Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a ve
ry computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him
his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you
vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you
might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword
starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or for
sweare to weare iron about you.
This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe
me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what
my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence,
nothing of my purpose.
I will doe so. Signiour Fabian, stay you by this
Gentleman, till my returne.
Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?
I know the knight is incenst against you, euen to
a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance
more.
I beseech you what manner of man is he?
Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him
by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of
his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, &
fatall opposite that you could posssibly haue found in anie
part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make
your peace with him, if I can.
I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one,
that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care
not who knowes so much of my mettle.
Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such
a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all:
and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion
that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as
surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They
say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy.
Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him.
I but he will not now be pacified,
Fabian can scarse hold him yonder.
Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant,
and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere
I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and
Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet.
Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good
shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules,
marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you.
I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded
him the youths a diuell.
He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, &
lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles.
There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's
oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his
quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth tal
king of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe,
he protests he will not hurt you.
Pray God defend me: a little thing would make
me tell them how much I lacke of a man.
Giue ground if you see him furious.
Come sir Andrew, there's no remedie, the Gen
tleman will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you:
he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised
me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt
you. Come on, too't.
Pray God he keepe his oath.
I do assure you tis against my will.
You sir? Why, what are you?
Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you.
O good sir Toby hold: heere come the Officers.
Ile be with you anon.
Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please.
Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile
be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and
raines well.
This is the man, do thy Office.
Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino
You do mistake me sir.
Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian: Weel
whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes.
A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward
then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend
heere in necesssity, and denying him: and for his coward
ship aske Fabian.
A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in
it.
Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him.
Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy sword
And I do not.
Come, let's see the euent.
I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.
Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for
you?
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.
I prethee vent thy folly some‑where else, thou
know'st not me.
Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some
great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my fol
ly: 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?
I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's
money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse
paiment.
By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wise‑
men that giue fooles money, get themselues a good re
port, after foureteene yeares purchase.
Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you.
Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house.
This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be
in some of your coats for two pence.
Come on sir, hold.
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.
Let go thy hand.
Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong
souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come
on.
What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or
two of this malapert blood from you.
Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold.
Madam.
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.
Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe
in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in
Twelfe Night, or, What you
will.
in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the
function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good
Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good hous
keeper goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great
scholler. The Competitors enter.
Ioue blesse thee M. Parson.
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 him sir Topas.
What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison.
The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.
Who cals there?
Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluo
lio the Lunaticke.
Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas goe to my
Ladie.
Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this
man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies
Well said M. Parson.
Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good
sir Topas do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee
heere in hideous darknesse.
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?
As hell sir Topas.
Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as bari
cadoes, and the cleere stores toward the South north, are
as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of ob
struction?
I am not mad sir Topas, I say to you this house is
darke,
Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse
but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the
Ægyptians in their fogge.
I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh
Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I say there was ne
uer man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are,
make the triall of it in any constant question.
What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning
Wilde‑fowle?
That the soule of our grandam, might happily
inhabite a bird.
What thinkst thou of his opinion
I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aproue
his opinion.
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 dis
possesse the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well.
Sir Topas, sir Topas.
My most exquisite sir Topas.
Nay I am for all waters.
Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd
and gowne, he sees thee not.
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 vppe
shot. Come by and by to my Chamber.
Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady
does.
Foole.
My Lady is vnkind, perdie.
Foole.
Alas why is she so?
Foole, I say.
She loues another. Who calles, ha?
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.
M. Maluolio?
I good Foole.
Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts?
Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie a
bus'd: I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art.
But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be
no better in your wits then a foole.
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.
Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere.
Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: en
deauour thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble
babble.
Sir Topas.
Maintaine no words with him good fellow.
Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Mar
ry Amen. I will sir, I will.
Foole, foole, foole I say.
Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent
for speaking to you.
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.
Well‑a‑day, that you were sir.
By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, pa
per, and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my
Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bea
ring of Letter did.
I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not
mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit.
Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true.
Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains
I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke.
Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree:
I prethee be gone.
Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter.
Good M. Fabian, grant me another request.
Any thing.
Do not desire to see this Letter.
This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desire
my dogge againe.
Belong you to the Lady Oliuia, friends
I sir, we are some of her trappings.
I know thee well: how doest thou my good
Fellow?
Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worse
for my friends.
Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends.
No sir, the worse.
How can that be?
Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me,
now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my
foes sir, I profit in the knowledge of my selfe, and by my
friends I am abused: so that conclusions to be as kisses, if
your foure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why
then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.
Why this is excellent.
By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be
one of my friends.
Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold.
But that it would be double dealing sir, I would
you could make it another.
O you giue me ill counsell.
Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once,
and let your flesh and blood obey it.
Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double
dealer: there's another.
Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play, and the olde
saying is, the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good
tripping measure, or the belles of Bennet sir, may put
you in minde, one, two, three.
You can foole no more money out of mee at this
throw: if you will let your Lady know I am here to speak
with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my
bounty further.
Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come a
gen. I go sir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that
my desire of hauing is the sinne of couetousnesse: but as
you say sir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it
anon.
Where goes Cesario?
My Lord, I do protest.
For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one pre
sently to sir Toby.
What's the matter?
H'as broke my head a‑crosse, and has giuen Sir
Toby a bloody Coxcombe too: for the loue of God your
helpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home.
Who has done this sir Andrew?
The Counts Gentleman, one Cesario: we tooke
him for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell incardinate.
My Gentleman Cesario?
Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head
for nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do't by sir
Toby.
If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt
me: I thinke you set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe.
Heere comes sir Toby halting, you shall heare more: but if
he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you
other gates then he did.
How now Gentleman? how ist with you?
That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th'end on't:
Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot?
O he's drunke sir Toby an houre agone: his eyes
were set at eight i'th morning.
Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I
hate a drunken rogue.
Away with him? Who hath made this hauocke
with them?
Ile helpe you sir Toby, because we'll be drest to
gether.
Will you helpe an Asse‑head, and a coxcombe, &
a knaue: a thin fac'd knaue, a gull?
Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd too.
Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the staues end as
well as a man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to
you, I should haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a
madmans Epistles are no Gospels, so it skilles not much
when they are deliuer'd.
Open't, and read it.
Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole
deliuers the Madman. By the Lord Madam.
How now, art thou mad?
No Madam, I do but reade madnesse: and your
Ladyship will haue it as it ought to bee, you must allow
Vox.
Prethee reade i'thy right wits.
So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to
reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue
eare.
Read it you, sirrah.
By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and
the world shall know it: Though you haue put mee into
darkenesse, and giuen your drunken Cosine rule ouer me,
yet haue I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladie
ship. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the
semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to
do my selfe much right, or you much shame: thinke of
me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of,
and speake out of my iniury. The madly vs'd Maluolio.
Did he write this
I Madame.
This sauours not much of distraction.
Why some are borne great, some atchieue great
nesse, and some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them. I
was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir Topas sir, but that's
all one: By the
member, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall,
and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge
of time, brings in his reuenges.