FESTE Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?

VIOLA Yes, being kept together and put to use.

FESTE I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

VIOLA (giving money) I understand you, sir, ’tis well begged.

FESTE The matter I hope is not great, sir; begging but a beggar—Cressida was a beggar. 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 ‘element’, but the word is over-worn. Exit

VIOLA

This fellow is wise enough to play the fool,

And to do that well craves a kind of wit.

He must observe their mood on whom he jests,

The quality of persons, and the time,

And, like the haggard, check at every feather

That comes before his eye. This is a practice

As full of labour as a wise man’s art,

For folly that he wisely shows is fit,

But wise men, folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit.

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew

SIR TOBY Save you, gentleman.

VIOLA And you, sir.

SIR ANDREW Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

VIOLA Et vous aussi, votre serviteur.

SIR ANDREW I hope, sir, you are, and I am yours.

SIR TOBY Will you encounter the house? My niece is desirous you should enter if your trade be to her.

VIOLA I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean she is the list of my voyage.

SIR TOBY Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.

VIOLA My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

SIR TOBY I mean to go, sir, to enter.

VIOLA I will answer you with gait and entrance.

Enter Olivia, and Maria, her gentlewoman

But we are prevented. (To Olivia) Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you.

SIR ANDREW (to Sir Toby) That youth’s a rare courtier;

‘rain odours’—well.

VIOLA My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

SIR ANDREW (to Sir Toby) ‘Odours’, ‘pregnant’, and

‘vouchsafed’—I’ll get ’em all three all ready.

OLIVIA Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria Give me your hand, sir.

VIOLA

My duty, madam, and most humble service.

OLIVIA What is your name?

VIOLA

Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess.

OLIVIA

My servant, sir? ’Twas never merry world

Since lowly feigning was called compliment.

You’re servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

VIOLA

And he is yours, and his must needs be yours.

Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.

OLIVIA

For him, I think not on him. For his thoughts,

Would they were blanks rather than filled with me.

VIOLA

Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts

On his behalf.

OLIVIA

O by your leave, I pray you.

I bade you never speak again of him;

But would you undertake another suit,

I had rather hear you to solicit that

Than music from the spheres.

VIOLA

Dear lady—

OLIVIA

Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,

After the last enchantment you did here,

A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse

Myself, my servant, and I fear me you.

Under your hard construction must I sit,

To force that on you in a shameful cunning

Which you knew none of yours. What might you

think?

Have you not set mine honour at the stake

And baited it with all th’unmuzzled thoughts

That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your

receiving

Enough is shown. A cypress, not a bosom,

Hides my heart. So let me hear you speak.

VIOLA

I pity you.

OLIVIA

That’s a degree to love.

VIOLA

No, not a grece, for ’tis a vulgar proof

That very oft we pity enemies.

OLIVIA

Why then, methinks ’tis time to smile again.

O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

If one should be a prey, how much the better

To fall before the lion than the wolf!

Clock strikes

The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.

Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you;

And yet when wit and youth is come to harvest

Your wife is like to reap a proper man.

There lies your way, due west.

VIOLA

Then westward ho!

Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship.

You’ll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

OLIVIA

Stay. I prithee tell me what thou think’st of me.

VIOLA

That you do think you are not what you are.

OLIVIA

If I think so, I think the same of you.

VIOLA

Then think you right, I am not what I am.

OLIVIA

I would you were as I would have you be.

VIOLA

Would it be better, madam, than I am?

I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

OLIVIA (aside)

O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful

In the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murd’rous guilt shows not itself more soon

Than love that would seem hid. Love’s night is noon.

(To Viola) Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

By maidhood, honour, truth, 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 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 master’s tears to you deplore.

OLIVIA

Yet come again, for thou perhaps mayst move

That heart which now abhors, to like his love.

Exeunt ⌈severally⌉