Twelfth Night | Act II, Scene V
Scene V
Olivia's garden.
[Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.]
- SIR TOBY:
-
Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
- FABIAN:
-
Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be
boiled to death with melancholy.
- SIR TOBY:
-
Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally
sheep-biter come by some notable shame?(5)
- FABIAN:
-
I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o'
favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
- SIR TOBY:
-
To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will
fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?
- SIR ANDREW:
-
An we do not, it is pity of our lives.(10)
- SIR TOBY:
-
Here comes the little villain.
[Enter Maria.]
How now, my nettle of India?
- MARIA:
-
Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming
down this walk: he has been yonder i' the sun practising
behavior to his own shadow this half hour: observe him,(15)
for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make
a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting!
[The men hide themselves.]
Lie thou there;
[Throws down a letter.]
for here comes the trout that must be
caught with tickling.(20)
[Exit.]
[Enter Malvolio.]
- MALVOLIO:
-
'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told
me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come
thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my
complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted
respect than any one else that follows her. What should(25)
I think on't?
- SIR TOBY:
-
Here's an overweening rogue!
- FABIAN:
-
O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of
him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
- SIR ANDREW:
-
'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!(30)
- SIR TOBY:
-
Peace, I say.
- MALVOLIO:
-
To be Count Malvolio!
- SIR TOBY:
-
Ah, rogue!
- SIR ANDREW:
-
Pistol him, pistol him.
- SIR TOBY:
-
Peace, peace!(35)
- MALVOLIO:
-
There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy married
the yeoman of the wardrobe.
- SIR ANDREW:
-
Fie on him, Jezebel!
- FABIAN:
-
O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how imagination
blows him.(40)
- MALVOLIO:
-
Having been three months married to her, sitting in
my state,—
- SIR TOBY:
-
O, for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye!
- MALVOLIO:
-
Calling my officers about me, in my branched
velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left(45)
Olivia sleeping.
- SIR TOBY:
-
Fire and brimstone!
- FABIAN:
-
O, peace, peace.
- MALVOLIO:
-
And then to have the humour of state; and after
a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place(50)
as I would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman
Toby,—
- SIR TOBY:
-
Bolts and shackles!
- FABIAN:
-
O, peace, peace, peace! now, now.
- MALVOLIO:
-
Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make
out for him: I frown the while; and perchance, wind up my
watch, or play with my—some rich jewel. Toby approaches;
courtesies there to me,—
- SIR TOBY:
-
Shall this fellow live?
- MALVOLIO:
-
I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar
smile with an austere regard of control,—
- SIR TOBY:
-
And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips
then?
- MALVOLIO:
-
Saying ‘Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on
your niece give me this prerogative of speech,’—
- SIR TOBY:
-
What, what?
- MALVOLIO:
-
‘You must amend your drunkenness.’
- SIR TOBY:
-
Out, scab!(70)
- FABIAN:
-
Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
- MALVOLIO:
-
‘Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a
foolish knight,’—
- SIR ANDREW:
-
That's me, I warrant you.
- MALVOLIO:
-
‘One Sir Andrew,’—(75)
- SIR ANDREW:
-
I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.
- MALVOLIO:
-
What employment have we here?
[Taking up the letter.]
- FABIAN:
-
Now is the woodcock near the gin.
- MALVOLIO:
-
By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very
C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's.
It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
- SIR ANDREW:
-
Her C's, her U's, and her T's: why that?
- MALVOLIO:
-
[Reads]
‘To the unknown beloved, this, and my
good wishes:’—her very phrases! By your leave, wax.
Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she
uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?
- FABIAN:
-
This wins him, liver and all.
- MALVOLIO:
-
(90)
[Reads]
‘Jove knows I love,
But who?
Lips, do not move,
No man must know.’
‘No man must know.’ What follows? the numbers alter'd!(95)
‘No man must know:’ if this should be thee, Malvolio?
- SIR TOBY:
-
Marry, hang thee, brock!
- MALVOLIO:
-
[Reads]
‘I may command where I adore;
But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore;(100)
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.’
- FABIAN:
-
A fustian riddle!
- SIR TOBY:
-
Excellent wench, say I.
- MALVOLIO:
-
‘M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.’ Nay, but first, let
me see, let me see, let me see.(105)
- FABIAN:
-
What dish o' poison has she dressed him!
- SIR TOBY:
-
And with what wing the staniel checks at it!
- MALVOLIO:
-
‘I may command where I adore.’ Why, she may
command me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is
evident to any formal capacity; there is no obstruction(110)
in this: and the end,—what should that alphabetical position
portend? If I could make that resemble something in
me,—Softly! M, O, A, I,—
- FABIAN:
-
Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as
rank as a fox.(115)
- MALVOLIO:
-
M,—Malvolio; M,—why, that begins my name.
- FABIAN:
-
Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent
at faults.
- MALVOLIO:
-
M,—but then there is no consonancy in the sequel;
that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does.(120)
- FABIAN:
-
And O shall end, I hope.
- SIR TOBY:
-
Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry ‘O!’
