TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT TWELFTH NIGHT, the end of the Christmas season, was traditionally a time of revelry and topsy-turvydom; Shakespeare’s title for a play in which a servant aspires to his mistress’s hand has no more specific reference. It was thought appropriate to the festive occasion of Candlemas (2 February) 1602 when, in the first known allusion to it, John Manningham, a law student of the Middle Temple in London, noted ‘at our feast we had a play called Twelfth Night, or What You Will’. References to ‘the Sophy’—the Shah of Persia (2.5.174; 3.4.271)—probably post-date Sir Robert Shirley’s return from Persia, in a ship named The Sophy, in 1599; and ‘the new map with the augmentation of the Indies’ (3.2.75) appears to be one published in 1599 and reissued in 1600. Shakespeare may have picked up the name Orsino for his young duke from a Tuscan nobleman whom Queen Elizabeth entertained at Whitehall with a play performed by Shakespeare’s company on Twelfth Night 1601. Probably he wrote Twelfth Night during that year. Twelfth Night’s romantic setting is Illyria, the Greek and Roman name for Adriatic territory roughly corresponding to the former Yugoslavia. Manningham had noted that the play was ‘much like The Comedy of Errors or Menaechmi in Plautus’, thinking no doubt of the confusions created by identical twins. Shakespeare may also have known an anonymous Italian comedy, GI’Ingannati (The Deceived Ones), acted in 1531 and first printed in 1537, which influenced a number of other plays and prose tales including Barnaby Riche’s story of Apolonius and Silla printed as part of Riche’s Farewell to Military Profession (1581). Riche gave Shakespeare his main plot of a shipwrecked girl (Viola) who, disguised as a boy (Cesario), serves a young Duke (Orsino) and undertakes love-errands on his behalf to a noble lady (Olivia) who falls in love with her but mistakenly marries her twin brother (Sebastian). Shakespeare idealizes Riche’s characters and purges the story of some of its explicit sexuality: Riche’s Olivia, for example, is pregnant before marriage, and his Viola reveals her identity, in a manner impractical for a boy actor, by stripping to the waist. Shakespeare complicates the plot by giving Olivia a reprobate uncle, Sir Toby Belch, and two additional suitors, the asinine Sir Andrew Aguecheek and her steward, Malvolio, tricked by members of her household into believing that she loves him. More important to the play than to the plot is the entirely Shakespearian clown, Feste, a wry and oblique commentator whose wit in folly is opposed to Malvolio’s folly in wit. Twelfth Night is the consummation of Shakespeare’s romantic comedy, a play of wide emotional range, extending from the robust, brilliantly orchestrated humour of the scene of midnight revelry (2.2) to the rapt wonder of the antiphon of recognition (5.1.224-56) between the reunited twins. In performance the balance shifts, favouring sometimes the exposure and celebration of folly, at other times the poignancy of unattained love and of unheeded wisdom; but few other plays have so consistently provided theatrical pleasure of so high an order. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY ORSINO, Duke of Illyria FIRST OFFICER SECOND OFFICER

VIOLA, a lady, later disguised as Cesario A CAPTAIN SEBASTIAN, her twin brother ANTONIO, another sea-captain OLIVIA, a Countess MARIA, her waiting-gentlewoman SIR TOBY Belch, Olivia’s kinsman SIR ANDREW Aguecheek, companion of Sir Toby MALVOLIO, Olivia’s steward FABIAN, a member of Olivia’s household FESTE the Clown, her jester A PRIEST A SERVANT of Olivia Musicians, sailors, lords, attendants

Twelfth Night, or What You Will

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Music. Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other lords
ORSINO	If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die. That strain again, it had a dying fall. O, it came o‘er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour. Enough, no more, ’Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
(didascalia)	Music ceases
ORSINO	O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, naught enters there, Of what validity and pitch so e’er, But falls into abatement and low price Even in a minute! So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.
CURIO	Will you go hunt, my lord?
ORSINO	What, Curio?
CURIO	The hart.
ORSINO	Why so I do, the noblest that I have. O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first Methought she purged the air of pestilence; That instant was I turned into a hart, And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E’er since pursue me.
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine
ORSINO	How now, what news from her?
VALENTINE	So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself till seven years’ heat Shall not behold her face at ample view, But like a cloistress she will veiled walk And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine—all this to season A brother’s dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance.
ORSINO	O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love when the rich golden shaft Hath killed the flock of all affections else That live in her—when liver, brain, and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled Her sweet perfections with one self king! Away before me to sweet beds of flowers. Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Viola, a Captain, and sailors
VIOLA	What country, friends, is this?
CAPTAIN	This is Illyria, lady.
VIOLA	And what should I do in Illyria? My brother, he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drowned. What think you sailors?
CAPTAIN	It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
VIOLA	O my poor brother!—and so perchance may he be.
CAPTAIN	True, madam, and to comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you and those poor number saved with you Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself— Courage and hope both teaching him the practice— To a strong mast that lived upon the sea, Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves So long as I could see.
VIOLA	(giving money) For saying so, there’s gold. Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him. Know’st thou this country?
CAPTAIN	Ay, madam, well, for I was bred and born Not three hours’ travel from this very place.
VIOLA	Who governs here?
CAPTAIN	A noble duke, in nature As in name.
VIOLA	What is his name?
CAPTAIN	Orsino.
VIOLA	Orsino. I have heard my father name him. He was a bachelor then.
CAPTAIN	And so is now, or was so very late, For but a month ago I went from hence, And then ’twas fresh in murmur—as, you know, What great ones do the less will prattle of— That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
VIOLA	What’s she?
CAPTAIN	A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died, for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjured the sight And company of men.
VIOLA	O that I served that lady, And might not be delivered to the world Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is.
CAPTAIN	That were hard to compass, Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the Duke’s.
VIOLA	There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain, And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character. I pray thee—and I’ll pay thee bounteously— Conceal me what I am, and be my aid For such disguise as haply shall become The form of my intent. I’ll serve this duke. Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him. It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing, And speak to him in many sorts of music That will allow me very worth his service. What else may hap, to time I will commit. Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
CAPTAIN	Be you his eunuch, and your mute I’ll be. When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
VIOLA	I thank thee. Lead me on.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria
SIR TOBY	What a plague means my niece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care’s an enemy to life.
MARIA	By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o’ nights. Your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.
SIR TOBY	Why, let her except, before excepted.
MARIA	Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
SIR TOBY	Confine? I’ll confine myself no finer than I am. These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.
MARIA	That quaffing and drinking will undo you. I heard my lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.
SIR TOBY	Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
MARIA	Ay, he.
SIR TOBY	He’s as tall a man as any’s in Illyria.
MARIA	What’s that to th’ purpose?
SIR TOBY	Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
MARIA	Ay, but he’ll have but a year in all these ducats. He’s a very fool, and a prodigal.
SIR TOBY	Fie that you’ll say so! He plays o’th’ viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.
MARIA	He hath indeed, almost natural, for besides that he’s a fool, he’s a great quarreller, and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, ’tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave.
SIR TOBY	By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they?
MARIA	They that add, moreover, he’s drunk nightly in your company.
SIR TOBY	With drinking healths to my niece. I’ll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria. He’s a coward and a coistrel that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o’th’ toe, like a parish top. What wench, Castiliano, vulgo, for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Andrew Aguecheek
SIR ANDREW	Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch?
SIR TOBY	Sweet Sir Andrew.
SIR ANDREW	(to Maria) Bless you, fair shrew.
MARIA	And you too, sir.
SIR TOBY	Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
SIR ANDREW	What’s that?
SIR TOBY	My niece’s chambermaid.
SIR ANDREW	Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
MARIA	My name is Mary, sir.
SIR ANDREW	Good Mistress Mary Accost.
SIR TOBY	You mistake, knight. ’Accost’ is front her, board her, woo her, assail her.
SIR ANDREW	By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of ‘accost’?
MARIA	Fare you well, gentlemen.
SIR TOBY	An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again.
SIR ANDREW	An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?
MARIA	Sir, I have not you by th’ hand.
SIR ANDREW	Marry, but you shall have, and here’s my hand.
MARIA	(taking his hand) Now sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to th’ buttery-bar, and let it drink.
SIR ANDREW	Wherefore, sweetheart? What’s your metaphor?
MARIA	It’s dry, sir.
SIR ANDREW	Why, I think so. I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what’s your jest?
MARIA	A dry jest, sir.
SIR ANDREW	Are you full of them?
MARIA	Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers’ ends. Marry, now I let go your hand I am barren. Exit
SIR TOBY	O knight, thou lackest a cup of canary. When did I see thee so put down?
SIR ANDREW	Never in your life, I think, unless you see canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
SIR TOBY	No question.
SIR ANDREW	An I thought that, I’d forswear it. I’ll ride home tomorrow, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY	Pourquoi, my dear knight?
SIR ANDREW	What is ‘Pourquoi’? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O, had I but followed the arts!
SIR TOBY	Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
SIR ANDREW	Why, would that have mended my hair?
SIR TOBY	Past question, for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
SIR ANDREW	But it becomes me well enough, does’t not?
SIR TOBY	Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin it off.
SIR ANDREW	Faith, I’ll home tomorrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will not be seen, or if she be, it’s four to one she’ll none of me. The Count himself here hard by woos her.
SIR TOBY	She’ll none o‘th’ Count. She’ll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit, I have heard her swear’t. Tut, there’s life in’t, man.
SIR ANDREW	I’ll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o‘th’ strangest mind i’th’ world. I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether.
SIR TOBY	Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
SIR ANDREW	As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.
SIR TOBY	What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? SIR ANDREW Faith, I can cut a caper.
SIR TOBY	And I can cut the mutton to’t.
SIR ANDREW	And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
SIR TOBY	Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have these gifts a curtain before ’em? Are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall’s picture? Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig. I would not so much as make water but in a cinquepace. What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think by the excellent constitution of thy leg it was formed under the star of a galliard.
SIR ANDREW	Ay, ’tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a divers-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?
SIR TOBY	What shall we do else—were we not born under Taurus?
SIR ANDREW	Taurus? That’s sides and heart.
SIR TOBY	No, sir, it is legs and thighs: let me see thee caper.
(didascalia)	Sir Andrew capers
SIR TOBY	Ha, higher! Ha ha, excellent.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine, and Viola (as Cesario) in man’s attire
VALENTINE	If the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced. He hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
VIOLA	You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
VALENTINE	No, believe me.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke, Curio, and attendants
VIOLA	I thank you. Here comes the Count.
ORSINO	Who saw Cesario, ho?
VIOLA	On your attendance, my lord, here.
ORSINO	(to Curio and attendants) Stand you a while aloof. (To Viola) Cesario, Thou know’st no less but all. I have unclasped To thee the book even of my secret soul. Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her, Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou have audience.
VIOLA	Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandoned to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
ORSINO	Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return.
VIOLA	Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
ORSINO	O then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith. It shall become thee well to act my woes— She will attend it better in thy youth Than in a nuncio’s of more grave aspect.
VIOLA	I think not so, my lord.
ORSINO	Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie thy happy years That say thou art a man. Diana’s lip Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman’s part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affair. (To Curio and attendants) Some four or five attend him. All if you will, for I myself am best When least in company. (To Viola) Prosper well in this And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine.
VIOLA	I’ll do my best
(didascalia)	To woo your lady—aside yet a barful strife—
VIOLA	Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Maria, and Feste, the clown
MARIA	Nay, either tell me where thou hast been or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence.
FESTE	Let her hang me. He that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.
MARIA	Make that good.
FESTE	He shall see none to fear.
MARIA	A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where that saying was born, of ‘I fear no colours’.
FESTE	Where, good Mistress Mary?
MARIA	In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
FESTE	Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
MARIA	Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent, or to be turned away—is not that as good as a hanging to you?
FESTE	Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out.
MARIA	You are resolute then?
FESTE	Not so neither, but I am resolved on two points.
MARIA	That if one break, the other will hold; or if both break, your gaskins fall.
FESTE	Apt, in good faith, very apt. Well, go thy way. If Sir Toby would leave drinking thou wert as witty a piece of Eve’s flesh as any in lllyria.
MARIA	Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that. Here comes my lady. Make your excuse wisely, you were best.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia, with Malvolio and attendants
(didascalia)	FESTE aside Wit, an’t be thy will, put me into good footing! Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools, and I that am sure I lack thee may pass for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus?—‘Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.’ (To Olivia) God bless thee, lady.
OLIVIA	(to attendants) Take the fool away.
FESTE	Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
OLIVIA	Go to, you’re a dry fool. I’ll no more of you. Besides, you grow dishonest.
FESTE	Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend, for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself: if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Anything that’s mended is but patched. Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin, and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so. If it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty’s a flower. The lady bade take away the fool, therefore I say again, take her away.
OLIVIA	Sir, I bade them take away you.
FESTE	Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, ‘Cucullus non facit monachum’—that’s as much to say as I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.
OLIVIA	Can you do it?
FESTE	Dexteriously, good madonna.
OLIVIA	Make your proof.
FESTE	I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good my mouse of virtue, answer me.
OLIVIA	Well, sir, for want of other idleness I’ll bide your proof.
FESTE	Good madonna, why mournest thou?
OLIVIA	Good fool, for my brother’s death.
FESTE	I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
OLIVIA	I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
FESTE	The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul, being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
OLIVIA	What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Doth he not mend?
MALVOLIO	Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.
FESTE	God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity for the better increasing your folly. Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool.
OLIVIA	How say you to that, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal. I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he’s out of his guard already. Unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest I take these wise men that crow so at these set kind of fools no better than the fools’ zanies.
OLIVIA	O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition is to take those things for birdbolts that you deem cannon bullets. There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.
FESTE	Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools.
(didascalia)	Enter Maria
MARIA	Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you.
OLIVIA	From the Count Orsino, is it?
MARIA	I know not, madam. ’Tis a fair young man, and well attended.
OLIVIA	Who of my people hold him in delay?
MARIA	Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
OLIVIA	Fetch him off, I pray you, he speaks nothing but madman. Fie on him. Go you, Malvolio. If it be a suit from the Count, I am sick, or not at home—what you will to dismiss it. Exit Malvolio Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
FESTE	Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool, whose skull Jove cram with brains, for—here he comes—
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby
FESTE	one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.
OLIVIA	By mine honour, half-drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
SIR TOBY	A gentleman.
OLIVIA	A gentleman? What gentleman?
SIR TOBY	’Tis a gentleman here. (He belches) A plague o’ these pickle herring! (To Feste) How now, sot?
FESTE	Good Sir Toby.
OLIVIA	Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
SIR TOBY	Lechery? I defy lechery. There’s one at the gate. OLIVIA Ay, marry, what is he?
SIR TOBY	Let him be the devil an he will, I care not. Give me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.
(didascalia)	Exit
OLIVIA	What’s a drunken man like, fool?
FESTE	Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman—one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him, and a third drowns him.
OLIVIA	Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o’ my coz, for he’s in the third degree of drink, he’s drowned. Go look after him.
FESTE	He is but mad yet, madonna, and the fool shall look to the madman.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Malvolio
MALVOLIO	Madam, yon young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick—he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleep—he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? He’s fortified against any denial.
OLIVIA	Tell him he shall not speak with me.
MALVOLIO	He’s been told so, and he says he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff’s post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he’ll speak with you.
OLIVIA	What kind o’ man is he?
MALVOCIO	Why, of mankind.
OLIVIA	What manner of man?
MALVOLIO	Of very ill manner: he’ll speak with you, will you or no.
OLIVIA	Of what personage and years is he?
MALVOLIO	Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before ‘tis a peascod, or a codling when ’tis almost an apple. ’Tis with him in standing water between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly. One would think his mother’s milk were scarce out of him.
OLIVIA	Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.
MALVOLIO	Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Maria
OLIVIA	Give me my veil. Come, throw it o’er my face. We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.
(didascalia)	Enter Viola as Cesario
VIOLA	The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
OLIVIA	Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your will.
VIOLA	Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty. —I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her. I would be loath to cast away my speech, for besides that it is excellently well penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very ’countable, even to the least sinister usage.
OLIVIA	Whence came you, sir?
VIOLA	I can say little more than I have studied, and that question’s out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.
OLIVIA	Are you a comedian?
VIOLA	No, my profound heart; and yet—by the very fangs of malice I swear—I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?
OLIVIA	If I do not usurp myself, I am.
VIOLA	Most certain if you are she you do usurp yourself, for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission. I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message.
OLIVIA	Come to what is important in’t, I forgive you the praise.
VIOLA	Alas, I took great pains to study it, and ’tis poetical.
OLIVIA	It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone. If you have reason, be brief. ’Tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
MARIA	Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way.
VIOLA	No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer. (To Olivia) Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Tell me your mind, I am a messenger.
OLIVIA	Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
VIOLA	It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage. I hold the olive in my hand. My words are as full of peace as matter.
OLIVIA	Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?
VIOLA	The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment. What I am and what I would are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears, divinity; to any others’, profanation.
(didascalia)	OLIVIA (to Maria and attendants) Give us the place alone, we will hear this divinity.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Maria and attendants
VIOLA	Now sir, what is your text?
VIOLA	Most sweet lady—
OLIVIA	A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text?
VIOLA	In Orsino’s bosom.
OLIVIA	In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
VIOLA	To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
OLIVIA	O, I have read it. It is heresy. Have you no more to say?
VIOLA	Good madam, let me see your face.
OLIVIA	Have 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 show you the picture. She unveils Look you, sir, such a one I was this present. Is’t not well done?
VIOLA	Excellently done, if God did all.
OLIVIA	‘Tis in grain, sir, ’twill endure wind and weather.
VIOLA	‘Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Lady, you are the cruell’st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.
OLIVIA	O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. I will give out divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried and every particle and utensil labelled to my will, as, item, two lips, indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me?
VIOLA	I see you what you are, you are too proud, But if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you. O, such love Could be but recompensed though you were crowned The nonpareil of beauty.
OLIVIA	How does he love me?
VIOLA	With adorations, fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
OLIVIA	Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him. Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth, In voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant, And in dimension and the shape of nature A gracious person; but yet I cannot love him. He might have took his answer long ago.
VIOLA	If I did love you in my master’s flame, With such a suff’ring, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense, I would not understand it.
OLIVIA	Why, what would you?
VIOLA	Make me a willow cabin at your gate And call upon my soul within the house, Write loyal cantons of contemnèd love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night; Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out ‘Olivia!’ O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth But you should pity me.
OLIVIA	You might do much. What is your parentage?
VIOLA	Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. I am a gentleman.
OLIVIA	Get you to your lord. I cannot love him. Let him send no more, Unless, perchance, you come to me again To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well. I thank you for your pains. (Offering a purse) Spend this for me.
VIOLA	I am no fee’d post, lady. Keep your purse. My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of flint that you shall love, And let your fervour, like my master’s, be Placed in contempt. Farewell, fair cruelty. Exit
OLIVIA	‘What is your parentage?’ ‘Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. I am a gentleman.’ I’ll be sworn thou art. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit Do give thee five-fold blazon. Not too fast. Soft, soft— Unless the master were the man. How now? Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Methinks I feel this youth’s perfections With an invisible and subtle stealth To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. What ho, Malvolio.
(didascalia)	Enter Malvolio
MALVOLIO	Here, madam, at your service.
OLIVIA	Run after that same peevish messenger The County’s man. He left this ring behind him, Would I or not. Tell him I’ll none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his lord, Nor hold him up with hopes. I am not for him. If that the youth will come this way tomorrow, I’ll give him reasons for’t. Hie thee, Malvolio.
MALVOLIO	Madam, I will.
(didascalia)	Exit at one door
OLIVIA	I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe. What is decreed must be; and be this so.
(didascalia)	Exit at another door

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Antonio and Sebastian
ANTONIO	Will you stay no longer, nor will you not that I go with you?
SEBASTIAN	By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me. The malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours, therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.
ANTONIO	Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.
SEBASTIAN	No, sooth, sir. My determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in. Therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My father was that Sebastian of Messaline whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended. But you, sir, altered that, for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned.
ANTONIO	Alas the day!
SEBASTIAN	A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful. But though I could not with such estimable wonder over-far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her: she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.
ANTONIO	Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
SEBASTIAN	O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
ANTONIO	If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.
SEBASTIAN	If you will not undo what you have done—that is, kill him whom you have recovered—desire it not. Fare ye well at once. My bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino’s court. Farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
ANTONIO	The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino’s court, Else would I very shortly see thee there. But come what may, I do adore thee so That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. Exit

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Viola as Cesario, and Malvolio, at several doors
MALVOLIO	Were not you ev’n now with the Countess Olivia?
VIOLA	Even now, sir, on a moderate pace, I have since arrived but hither.
MALVOLIO	(offering a ring) She returns this ring to you, sir. You might have saved me my pains to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him. And one thing more: that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord’s taking of this. Receive it so.
VIOLA	She took the ring of me. I’ll none of it.
MALVOLIO	Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her, and her will is it should be so returned. He throws the ring down If it be worth stooping for, there it lies, in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. Exit
VIOLA	(picking up the ring) I left no ring with her. What means this lady? Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her. She made good view of me, indeed so much That straight methought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts, distractedly. She loves me, sure. The cunning of her passion Invites me in this churlish messenger. None of my lord’s ring! Why, he sent her none. I am the man. If it be so—as ’tis— Poor lady, she were better love a dream! Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper false In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms! Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we, For such as we are made of, such we be. How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly, And I, poor monster, fond as much on him, And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my master’s love. As I am woman, now, alas the day, What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t’untie. Exit

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew
SIR TOBY	Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after midnight is to be up betimes, and diliculo surgere, thou knowest.
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 unfilled 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 lives 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Feste, the clown
SIR ANDREW	Here comes the fool, i’faith.
FESTE	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. ‘Twas very good, i’faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman. Hadst it?
FESTE	I did impeticos thy gratility; 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	(to Feste) Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let’s have a song.
SIR ANDREW	(to Feste) There’s a testril of me, too. If one knight give a—
FESTE	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.
FESTE	(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.
FESTE	What is love? ’Tis 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	An you love me, let’s do’t. I am dog at a catch.
FESTE	By’r Lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
SIR ANDREW	Most certain. Let our catch be ‘Thou knave’.
FESTE	‘Hold thy peace, thou knave’, knight. I shall be constrained in’t to call thee knave, knight.
SIR ANDREW	‘Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool. It begins ‘Hold thy peace’.
FESTE	I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
SIR ANDREW	Good, i’faith. Come, begin. They sing the catch.
(didascalia)	Enter Maria
MARIA	What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.
SIR TOBY	My lady’s a Cathayan, we are politicians, Malvolio’s a Peg-o‘-Ramsey, and ‘hree merry men be we’. Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally—‘lady’! ‘There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.’
FESTE	Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable fooling.
SIR ANDREW	Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I, too. He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.
SIR TOBY	‘O’the twelfth day of December’—
MARIA	For the love o’ God, peace.
(didascalia)	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 kinsman she’s nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours you are welcome to the house. If not, an 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.
FESTE	‘His eyes do show his days are almost done.’
MALVOLIO	Is’t even so?
SIR TOBY	‘But I will never die.’
FESTE	‘Sir Toby, there you lie.’
MALVOLIO	This is much credit to you.
SIR TOBY	‘Shall I bid him go?’
FESTE	‘What an if you do?’
SIR TOBY	‘Shall I bid him go, and spare not?’
FESTE	‘O no, no, no, no, you dare not.’
SIR TOBY	Out o’ tune, sir, ye lie. (To Malvolio) Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?
FESTE	Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i’th’ mouth, too.
SIR TOBY	Thou‘rt i’th’ right. (To Malvolio) Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. (To Maria) A stoup of wine, Maria.
MALVOLIO	Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favour at anything 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	’Twere 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 tonight. Since the youth of the Count’s was today 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 dev’l a puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass that cons state without book and utters it by great swathes; the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, 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, ’twill 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 adored 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, ’tis too late to go to bed now. Come knight, come knight. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke, Viola as Cesario, Curio, and others
ORSINO	Give me some music. Now good morrow, friends. Now good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antic song we heard last night. Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times. Come, but one verse.
CURIO	He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
ORSINO	Who was it?
CURIO	Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house.
ORSINO	Seek him out, and play the tune the while. Exit Curio
(didascalia)	Music plays
ORSINO	(To Viola) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it remember me; For such as I am, all true lovers are, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else Save in the constant image of the creature That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
VIOLA	It gives a very echo to the seat Where love is throned.
ORSINO	Thou dost speak masterly. My life upon’t, young though thou art thine eye Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves. Hath it not, boy?
VIOLA	A little, by your favour.
ORSINO	What kind of woman is’t?
VIOLA	Of your complexion.
ORSINO	She is not worth thee then. What years, i’faith?
VIOLA	About your years, my lord.
ORSINO	Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take An elder than herself. So wears she to him; So sways she level in her husband’s heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women’s are.
VIOLA	I think it well, my lord.
ORSINO	Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent; For women are as roses, whose fair flower Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
VIOLA	And so they are. Alas that they are so: To die even when they to perfection grow.
(didascalia)	Enter Curio and Feste the clown
ORSINO	(to Feste) O fellow, come, the song we had last night. Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain. The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
FESTE	Are you ready, sir?
ORSINO	I prithee, sing.
(didascalia)	Music
FESTE	(sings) Come away, come away death, And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fie away, fie away breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O prepare it. My part of death no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet On my black coffin let there be strewn. Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me O where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there.
DUKE	(giving money) There’s for thy pains.
FESTE	No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.
ORSINO	I’ll pay thy pleasure then.
FESTE	Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
ORSINO	Give me now leave to leave thee.
FESTE	Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. Exit
ORSINO	Let all the rest give place: Exeunt Curio and others Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon same sovereign cruelty. Tell her my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands. The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her Tell her I hold as giddily as fortune; But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
VIOLA	But if she cannot love you, sir?
ORSINO	I cannot be so answered.
VIOLA	Sooth, but you must. Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her. You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
ORSINO	There is no woman’s sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart; no woman’s heart So big, to hold so much. They lack retention. Alas, their love may be called appetite, No motion of the liver, but the palate, That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt. But mine is all as hungry as the sea, And can digest as much. Make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me And that I owe Olivia.
VIOLA	Ay, but I know—
ORSINO	What dost thou know?
VIOLA	Too well what love women to men may owe. In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter loved a man As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman I should your lordship.
ORSINO	And what’s her history?
VIOLA	A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i’th’ bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more, but indeed Our shows are more than will; for still we prove Much in our vows, but little in our love.
ORSINO	But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
VIOLA	I am all the daughters of my father’s house, And all the brothers too; and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this lady?
ORSINO	Ay, that’s the theme, To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say My love can give no place, bide no denay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 2, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
SIR TOBY	Come thy ways, Signor 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?
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.
(didascalia)	Enter Maria with a letter
SIR TOBY	Here comes the little villain. How now, my metal 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 behaviour to his own shadow this half-hour. Observe him, 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. Maria places the letter Lie thou there, for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	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 anyone else that follows her. What should I think on’t?
SIR TOBY	Here’s an overweening rogue.
FABIAN	O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkeycock of him—how he jets under his advanced plumes!
SIR ANDREW	’Slight, I could so beat the rogue.
SIR TOBY	Peace, I say.
MALVOLIO	To be Count Malvolio!
SIR TOBY	Ah, rogue.
SIR ANDREW	Pistol him, pistol him.
SIR TOBY	Peace, peace.
MALVOLIO	There is example for’t: the Lady of the Strachey 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.
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 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, 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—(touching his chain) some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to me.
SIR TOBY	Shall this fellow live?
FABIAN	Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.
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.
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.’
SIR ANDREW	I knew ’twas I, for many do call me fool.
MALVOLIO	(seeing the letter) What employment have we here? FABIAN Now is the woodcock near the gin.
SIR TOBY	O peace, and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him.
MALVOLIO	(taking up the letter) 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! (Opening the letter) 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	‘Jove knows I love, But who? Lips do not move, No man must know.’ ‘No man must know.’ What follows? The numbers altered. ‘No man must know.’ If this should be thee, Malvolio?
SIR TOBY	Marry, hang thee, brock.
MALVOLIO	‘I may command where I adore, But silence like a Lucrece knife With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore.
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. 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 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.’
SIR TOBY	O ay, make up that, he is now at a cold scent.
FABIAN	Sowter will cry upon’t for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.
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.
FABIAN	And ‘O’ shall end, I hope.
SIR TOBY	Ay, or I’ll cudgel him, and make him cry ‘O!’
MALVOLIO	And then ‘I’ comes behind.
FABIAN	Ay, an you had any eye behind you you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.
MALVOLIO	‘M.O.A.I.’ This simulation is not as the former; and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft, here follows prose: ‘If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ’em. Thy fates open their hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants. Let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity. She thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered. I say remember, go to, thou art made if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, The Fortunate-Unhappy.’ Daylight and champaign discovers not more. This is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-device the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg, being cross-gartered, and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised. Here is yet a postscript. ‘Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.’ Jove, I thank thee. I will smile, I will do everything that thou wilt have me.
(didascalia)	Exit
MALVOLIO	Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian come from hiding
FABIAN	I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
SIR TOBY	I could marry this wench for this device.
SIR ANDREW	So could I, too.
SIR TOBY	And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.
(didascalia)	Enter Maria
SIR ANDREW	Nor I neither.
FABIAN	Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
SIR TOBY	(to Maria) Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck?
SIR ANDREW	(to Maria) Or o’ mine either?
SIR TOBY	(to Maria) Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bondslave?
SIR ANDREW	(to Maria) I’faith, or I either?
SIR TOBY	(to Maria) Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.
MARIA	Nay, but say true, does it work upon him?
SIR TOBY	Like aqua vitae with a midwife.
MARIA	If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady. He will come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me.
SIR TOBY	To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit.
SIR ANDREW	I’ll make one, too. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Viola as Cesario and Feste the clown, with pipe and tabor
VIOLA	Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by thy tabor?
FESTE	No, sir, I live by the church.
VIOLA	Art thou a churchman?
FESTE	No such matter, sir. I do live by the church for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
VIOLA	So thou mayst say the king lies by a beggar if a beggar dwell near him, or the church stands by thy tabor if thy tabor stand by the church.
FESTE	You have said, sir. To see this age!—A sentence is but a cheverel glove to a good wit, how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward.
VIOLA	Nay, that’s certain. They that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
FESTE	I would therefore my sister had had no name, sir.
VIOLA	Why, man?
FESTE	Why, sir, her name’s a word, and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton. But indeed, words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.
VIOLA	Thy reason, man?
FESTE	Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false I am loath to prove reason with them.
VIOLA	I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.
FESTE	Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you. If that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
VIOLA	Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s fool?
FESTE	No indeed, sir, the Lady Olivia has no folly, she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married, and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings—the husband’s the bigger. I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words.
VIOLA	I saw thee late at the Count Orsino’s.
FESTE	Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress. I think I saw your wisdom there.
VIOLA	Nay, an thou pass upon me, I’ll no more with thee. (Giving money) Hold, there’s expenses for thee.
FESTE	Now Jove in his next commodity of hair send thee a beard.
VIOLA	By my troth I’ll tell thee, I am almost sick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?
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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia, and Maria, her gentlewoman
VIOLA	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
(didascalia)	severally

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
SIR ANDREW	No, faith, I’ll 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 Count’s servingman than ever she bestowed upon me. I saw’t 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 oaths of judgement 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, 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 lady’s opinion, where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s beard unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.
SIR ANDREW	An’t 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 Count’s youth to fight with him, hurt him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man’s 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 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 ‘thou’st’ 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, 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	We’ll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.
(didascalia)	Exit Sir Andrew
FABIAN	This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY	I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong or so.
FABIAN	We shall have a rare letter from him; but you’ll not deliver’t.
SIR TOBY	Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wain-ropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of th’anatomy.
FABIAN	And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.
(didascalia)	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 me. Yon 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. He’s 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 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, he’ll smile, and take’t for a great favour.
SIR TOBY	Come bring us, bring us where he is. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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 desire, More sharp than filèd 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 arguments of fear Set forth in your pursuit.
SEBASTIAN	My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks; and ever oft good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. But were my worth as is my conscience firm, You should find better dealing. What’s to do? Shall we go see the relics of 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 you’d pardon me. I do not without danger walk these streets. Once in a sea-fight ‘gainst the Count his galleys I did some service, of such note indeed That were I ta’en here it would scarce be answered.
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 been answered in repaying What we took from them, which for traffic’s sake Most of our city did. Only myself stood out, For which if I be latched in this place I shall pay dear.
SEBASTIAN	Do not then walk too open.
ANTONIO	It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here’s my purse. In the south suburbs at the Elephant 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	I’ll be your purse-bearer, and leave you For an hour.
ANTONIO	To th’ Elephant.
SEBASTIAN	I do remember.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 3, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia and Maria
OLIVIA	(aside) I have sent after him, he says he’ll come. How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed. I speak too loud. (To Maria) Where’s Malvolio? He is sad and civil, 5 And suits well for a servant with my fortunes. Where is Malvolio?
MARIA	He’s coming, madam, but in very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam.
OLIVIA	Why, what’s 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, for sure the man is tainted in’s wits.
OLIVIA	Go call him hither. Exit Maria I am as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be.
(didascalia)	Enter Malvolio, cross-gartered and wearing yellow stockings, with Maria
OLIVIA	How now, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Sweet lady, ho, ho!
OLIVIA	Smil’st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
MALVOLIO	Sad, lady? I could be sad. This does make some obstruction in 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’.
(didascalia)	OLIVIA
MALVOLIO	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 commands shall be executed. I think we do know the sweet roman hand.
OLIVIA	Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	(kissing his hand) To bed? ’Ay, sweetheart, and I’ll 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 appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?
MALVOLIO	‘Be not afraid of greatness’—’twas well writ.
OLIVIA	What meanest 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	‘Thy yellow stockings’?
MALVOLIO	‘And wished to see thee cross-gartered.’
OLIVIA	‘Cross-gartered’?
MALVOLIO	‘Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be so.’
OLIVIA	Am I made?
MALVOLIO	‘If not, let me see thee a servant still.’
OLIVIA	Why, this is very midsummer madness.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
SERVANT	Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino’s is returned. I could hardly entreat him back. He attends your ladyship’s pleasure.
OLIVIA	I’ll come to him. Exit Servant Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where’s 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, severally
MALVOLIO	O ho, do you 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 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 Jove’s doing, and Jove make me thankful. And when she went away now, ‘let this 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 doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
(didascalia)	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 I’ll speak to him.
FABIAN	Here he is, here he is. (To Malvolio) How is’t with you, sir? How is’t 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	Aha, does she so?
SIR TOBY	Go to, go to. Peace, peace, we must deal gently with him. Let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? How is’t with you? What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he’s 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 woman.
MARIA	Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I’ll 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, 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 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	Is’t possible?
FABIAN	If this were played upon a stage, now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
SIR 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, we’ll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he’s 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Andrew with a paper
FABIAN	More matter for a May morning.
SIR ANDREW	Here’s the challenge, read it. I warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in’t.
FABIAN	Is’t so saucy?
SIR ANDREW	Ay—is’t? 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 call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for’t.’
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.’ 155
FABIAN	Very brief, and to exceeding good sense (aside) -less.
SIR TOBY	‘I will waylay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me’—
FABIAN	Good.
SIR TOBY	‘Thou killest 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 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. I’ll give’t him.
MARIA	You may have very fit occasion for’t. He is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and 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 drawest, 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 have earned him. Away.
SIR ANDREW	Nay, let me alone for swearing.
(didascalia)	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 terror in the youth. He will find it comes from a clodpoll. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek a 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 both that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia, and Viola as Cesario
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria
OLIVIA	I have said too much unto a heart of stone, And laid mine honour too unchary out. There’s 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 master’s griefs.
OLIVIA	(giving a jewel) Here, wear this jewel for me, ’tis my picture— Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you— And I beseech you come again tomorrow. What shall you ask of me that I’ll deny, That honour, saved, 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 you.
OLIVIA	Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well. A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Fabian
SIR TOBY	Gentleman, God save thee.
VIOLA	And you, sir.
SIR TOBY	That defence thou hast, betake thee to’t. Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not, but thy intercepter, 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 TOBY	You’ll 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 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, give’t or take’t.
VIOLA	I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady. I am 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 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, that’s 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 is. It is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.
SIR TOBY	I will do so. Signor Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. Exit
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.
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 towards him, I will make your peace with him if I can.
(didascalia)	VIOLA I shall be much bound to you for’t. I am one that had rather go with Sir Priest than Sir Knight—I care not who knows so much of my mettle. Exeunt
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew
SIR TOBY	Why, man, he’s a very devil, I have not seen such a virago. 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	Pox on’t, I’ll not meddle with him.
SIR TOBY	Ay, but he will not now be pacified, Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.
SIR ANDREW	Plague on’t, an I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence I’d have seen him damned ere I’d have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip and I’ll give him my horse, grey Capulet.
SIR TOBY	I’ll make the motion. Stand here, make a good show on’t—this shall end without the perdition of souls. (Aside) Marry, I’ll ride your horse as well as I ride you.
(didascalia)	Enter Fabian, and Viola as Cesario
SIR TOBY	[Aside to Fabian] I have his horse to take up the quarrel, I have persuaded him the youth’s a devil.
FABIAN	(aside to Sir Toby) He is as horribly conceited of him, and pants and looks pale as if a bear were at his heels.
SIR TOBY	(to Viola) There’s no remedy, sir, he will fight with you for’s 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 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	(to Sir Andrew) Give ground if you see him furious.
SIR TOBY	Come, Sir Andrew, there’s no remedy, the gentleman will for his honour’s sake have one bout with you, he cannot 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, to’t.
SIR ANDREW	Pray God he keep his oath.
(didascalia)	Enter Antonio
VIOLA	I do assure you ’tis against my will. Sir Andrew and Viola draw their swords
ANTONIO	(drawing his sword, to Sir Andrew) Put up your sword. If this young gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me. If you offend him, I for him defy you.
SIR TOBY	You, sir? Why, what are you?
ANTONIO	One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
SIR TOBY	(drawing his sword) Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.
(didascalia)	Enter Officers
FABIAN	O, good Sir Toby, hold. Here come the officers.
SIR TOBY	(to Antonio) I’ll 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 I’ll be as good as my word. He will bear you easily, and reins well. Sir Andrew and Viola put up their swords
FIRST OFFICER	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 seacap on your head. (To Second Officer) Take him away, he knows I know him well.
ANTONIO	I must obey. (To Viola) This comes with seeking you. But there’s 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 amazed, But be of comfort.
SECOND OFFICER	Come, sir, away.
ANTONIO	(to Viola) I must entreat of you some of that money.
VIOLA	What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have showed me here, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability I’ll lend you something. My having is not much. I’ll make division of my present with you. Hold, (offering money) there’s half my coffer.
ANTONIO	Will you deny me now? Is’t 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, 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 snatched one half out of the jaws of death, Relieved him with such sanctity of love, And to his image, which methought did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
FIRST OFFICER	What’s 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 there’s no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind. Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks o’er-flourished by the devil.
FIRST OFFICER	The man grows mad, away with him. Come, come, sir.
ANTONIO	Lead me on.
(didascalia)	Exit with Officers
VIOLA	(aside) 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 ta’en for you!
SIR TOBY	Come hither, knight. Come hither, Fabian. We’ll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws. They stand aside
VIOLA	He named 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 kind, and salt waves fresh in love! Exit
SIR TOBY	(to Sir Andrew) 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, I’ll after him again, and beat him.
SIR TOBY	Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
SIR ANDREW	An I do not—
(didascalia)	Exit
FABIAN	Come, let’s see the event.
SIR TOBY	I dare lay any money ’twill be nothing yet.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sebastian and Feste, the clown
FESTE	Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
SEBASTIAN	Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow, Let me be clear of thee.
FESTE	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 nose, neither. Nothing that is so, is so.
SEBASTIAN	I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else, Thou know’st not me.
FESTE	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 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. There’s money for thee. If you tarry longer I shall give worse payment.
FESTE	By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report, after fourteen years’ purchase.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian
SIR ANDREW	(to Sebastian) Now, sir, have I met you again? (Striking him) There’s for you.
SEBASTIAN	[striking Sir Andrew with his dagger] Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there. Are all the people mad?
SIR TOBY	(to Sebastian, holding him back) Hold, sir, or I’ll throw your dagger o’er the house.
FESTE	This will I tell my lady straight, I would not be in some of your coats for twopence. Exit
SIR TOBY	Come on, sir, hold.
SIR ANDREW	Nay, let him alone, I’ll go another way to work with him. I’ll have an action of battery against him if there be any law in Illyria. Though I struck him first, yet it’s no matter 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	(freeing himself) I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
SIR TOBY	What, what? Nay then, I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. Sir Toby and Sebastian draw their swords.
(didascalia)	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 ne’er were preached—out of my sight! Be not offended, dear Cesario. (To Sir Toby) Rudesby, be gone.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
OLIVIA	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 botched up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go. 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, would thou’dst be ruled by me.
SEBASTIAN	Madam, I will.
OLIVIA	O, say so, and so be.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Maria carrying a gown and false beard, and Feste, the clown
MARIA	Nay, I prithee put on this gown and this beard, make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate. Do it quickly. I’ll call Sir Toby the whilst. Exit
FESTE	Well, I’ll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in’t, and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. He disguises himself 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 to say ‘a careful man and a great scholar’. The competitors enter.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Maria
SIR TOBY	Jove bless thee, Master Parson.
FESTE	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, am Master Parson; for what is ‘that’ but ‘that’, and ‘is’ but ‘is’?
SIR TOBY	To him, Sir Topas.
FESTE	What ho, I say, peace in this prison.
SIR TOBY	The knave counterfeits well—a good knave. Malvolio within
MALVOLIO	Who calls there?
FESTE	Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.
MALVOLIO	Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.
FESTE	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.
FESTE	Fie, thou dishonest Satan—I call 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.
FESTE	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	I am not mad, Sir Topas; I say to you this house is dark.
FESTE	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 never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are. Make the trial of it in any constant question.
FESTE	What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wildfowl?
MALVOLIO	That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
FESTE	What thinkest thou of his opinion?
MALVOLIO	I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.
FESTE	Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness. Thou shalt hold th’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.
FESTE	Nay, I am for all waters.
MARIA	Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown, he sees thee not.
(didascalia)	SIR TOBY (to Feste) To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest 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 my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. To Maria Come by and by to my chamber.
(didascalia)	Exit With Maria
FESTE	(sings) ‘Hey Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does.’
MALVOLIO	Fool!
FESTE	‘My lady is unkind, pardie.’
MALVOLIO	Fooll
FESTE	‘Alas, why is she so?’
MALVOLIO	Fool, I say!
FESTE	‘She 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 for’t.
FESTE	Master Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Ay, good fool.
FESTE	Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
MALVOLIO	Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.
FESTE	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 me out of my wits.
FESTE	Advise you what you say, the minister is here. (As Sir Topas) Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore. Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble.
MALVOLIO	Sir Topas.
FESTE	(as Sir Topas) Maintain no words with him, good fellow. (As himself) Who I, sir? Not I, sir. God b’wi’ you, good Sir Topas. (As Sir Topas) Marry, amen. (As himself) I will, sir, I will.
MALVOLIO	Fool, fool, fool, I say.
FESTE	Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you.
MALVOLIO	Good fool, help me to some light and some paper. I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. no
FESTE	Well-a-day that you were, sir.
MALVOLIO	By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, and light, and convey what I will set down to my lady. It shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.
FESTE	I will help you to’t. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit?
MALVOLIO	Believe me, I am not, I tell thee true.
FESTE	Nay, I’ll ne’er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.
MALVOLIO	Fool, I’ll requite it in the highest degree. I prithee, be gone.
FESTE	I am gone, sir, And anon, sir, I’ll be with you again, In a trice, Like to the old Vice, Your need to sustain, Who with dagger of lath In his rage and his wrath Cries ‘Aha,’ to the devil, Like a mad lad, ‘Pare thy nails, dad, Adieu, goodman devil.’ Exit

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sebastian
SEBASTIAN	This is the air, that is the glorious sun. This pearl she gave me, I do feel’t and see‘t, And though ’tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet ‘tis not madness. Where’s Antonio then? I could not find him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service, For though my soul disputes well with my sense That this may be some error but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes And wrangle with my reason that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad, Or else the lady’s mad. Yet if ’twere so She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs and their dispatch With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceive she does. There’s something in’t That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia and a Priest
OLIVIA	Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well Now go with me, and with this holy man, Into the chantry by. There before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full assurance of your faith, That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace. He shall conceal it Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keep According to my birth. What do you say?
SEBASTIAN	I’ll follow this good man, and go with you, And having sworn truth, ever will be true.
OLIVIA	Then lead the way, good father, and heavens so shine That they may fairly note this act of mine.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Feste the clown and Fabian
FABIAN	Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.
FESTE	Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.
FABIAN	Anything.
FESTE	Do not desire to see this letter.
FABIAN	This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke, Viola as Cesario, Curio, and lords
ORSINO	Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?
FESTE	Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.
ORSINO	I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow? FESTE Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends.
ORSINO	Just the contrary—the better for thy friends.
FESTE	No, sir, the worse.
ORSINO	How can that be?
FESTE	Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass, so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused; so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why then the worse for my friends and the better for my foes.
ORSINO	Why, this is excellent.
FESTE	By my troth, sir, no, though it please you to be one of my friends.
ORSINO	(giving money) Thou shalt not be the worse for me. There’s gold.
FESTE	But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.
ORSINO	O, you give me ill counsel.
FESTE	Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.
ORSINO	Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer. (Giving money) There’s another.
FESTE	Primo, secundo, tertio is a good play, and the old saying is ‘The third pays for all’. The triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure, or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind—‘one, two, three’.
ORSINO	You can fool no more money out of me 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.
FESTE	Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir, but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness. But as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Antonio and Officers
VIOLA	Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
ORSINO	That face of his I do remember well, Yet when I saw it last it was besmeared As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war. A baubling vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught and bulk unprizable, With which such scatheful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet That very envy and the tongue of loss Cried fame and honour on him. What’s the matter?
FIRST OFFICER	Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix and her freight from Candy, And this is he that did the Tiger board When your young nephew Titus lost his leg. Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In private brabble did we apprehend him.
VIOLA	He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side, But in conclusion put strange speech upon me. I know not what ’twas but distraction.
ORSINO	(to Antonio) Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief, What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies Whom thou in terms so bloody and so dear Hast made thine enemies?
ANTONIO	Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me. Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though, I confess, on base and ground enough Orsino’s enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither. That most ingrateful boy there by your side From the rude sea’s enraged and foamy mouth Did I redeem. A wreck past hope he was. His life I gave him, and did thereto add My love without retention or restraint, All his in dedication. For his sake Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town, Drew to defend him when he was beset, Where being apprehended, his false cunning— Not meaning to partake with me in danger— Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twenty years’ removed thing While one would wink, denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before.
VIOLA	How can this be?
ORSINO	When came he to this town?
ANTONIO	Today, my lord, and for three months before, No int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy, Both day and night did we keep company.
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia and attendants
ORSINO	Here comes the Countess. Now heaven walks on earth. But for thee, fellow—fellow, thy words are madness. Three months this youth hath tended upon me. But more of that anon. Take him aside.
OLIVIA	What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
VIOLA	Madam—
ORSINO	Gracious Olivia—
OLIVIA	What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord—
VIOLA	My lord would speak, my duty hushes me.
OLIVIA	If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music.
ORSINO	Still so cruel?
OLIVIA	Still so constant, lord.
ORSINO	What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull‘st off’rings hath breathed out That e’er devotion tendered—what shall I do?
OLIVIA	Even what it please my lord that shall become him.
ORSINO	Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to th’ Egyptian thief, at point of death Kill what I love—a savage jealousy That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still. But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye Where he sits crowned in his master’s spite. (To Viola) Come, boy, with me. My thoughts are ripe in mischief. I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.
VIOLA	And I most jocund, apt, and willingly To do you rest a thousand deaths would die.
OLIVIA	Where goes Cesario?
VIOLA	After him I love More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More by all mores than e’er I shall love wife. If I do feign, you witnesses above, Punish my life for tainting of my love.
OLIVIA	Ay me detested, how am I beguiled!
VIOLA	Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?
OLIVIA	Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy father. Exit an attendant
ORSINO	(to Viola) Come, away.
OLIVIA	Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.
ORSINO	Husband?
OLIVIA	Ay, husband. Can he that deny?
ORSINO	(to Viola) Her husband, sirrah?
VIOLA	No, my lord, not I.
OLIVIA	Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety. Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up, Be that thou know‘st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear’st.
(didascalia)	Enter the Priest
OLIVIA	O welcome, father. Father, I charge thee by thy reverence Here to unfold—though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before ’tis ripe—what thou dost know Hath newly passed between this youth and me.
PRIEST	A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthened by interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Sealed in my function, by my testimony; Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave I have travelled but two hours.
ORSINO	(to Viola) O thou dissembling cub, what wilt thou be When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.
VIOLA	My lord, I do protest.
OLIVIA	O, do not swear! Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Andrew
SIR ANDREW	For the love of God, a surgeon—send one presently to Sir Toby.
OLIVIA	What’s the matter?
SIR ANDREW	He’s broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb, too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home.
OLIVIA	Who has done this, Sir Andrew?
SIR ANDREW	The Count’s gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate.
ORSINO	My gentleman, Cesario?
SIR ANDREW	’Od’s lifelings, here he is. (To Viola) You broke my head for nothing, and that that I did I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby.
VIOLA	Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you. You drew your sword upon me without cause, But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Feste, the clown
SIR ANDREW	If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt you have hurt me. I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby, halting. You shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink he would have tickled you othergates than he did.
ORSINO	(to Sir Toby) How now, gentleman? How is’t with you?
SIR TOBY	That’s all one, he’s hurt me, and there’s th’end on’t. (To Feste) Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?
FESTE	O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone. His eyes were set at eight i’th’ morning.
SIR TOBY	Then he’s a rogue, and a passy-measures pavan. I hate a drunken rogue.
OLIVIA	Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?
SIR ANDREW	I’ll help you, Sir Toby, because we’ll be dressed together.
SIR TOBY	Will you help—an ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave; a thin-faced knave, a gull?
OLIVIA	Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, Feste, and Fabian
(didascalia)	Enter Sebastian
SEBASTIAN	(to Olivia) I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman, But had it been the brother of my blood I must have done no less with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that I do perceive it hath offended you. Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago.
ORSINO	One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A natural perspective, that is and is not.
SEBASTIAN	Antonio! O, my dear Antonio, How have the hours racked and tortured me Since I have lost thee!
ANTONIO	Sebastian are you?
SEBASTIAN	Fear’st thou that, Antonio?
ANTONIO	How have you made division of yourself? An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
OLIVIA	Most wonderfull
SEBASTIAN	(seeing Viola) Do I stand there? I never had a brother, Nor can there be that deity in my nature Of here and everywhere. I had a sister, Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured. Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman? What name? What parentage?
VIOLA	Of Messaline. Sebastian was my father. Such a Sebastian was my brother, too. So went he suited to his watery tomb. If spirits can assume both form and suit You come to fright us.
SEBASTIAN	A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek And say ‘Thrice welcome, drowned Viola.’
VIOLA	My father had a mole upon his brow
SEBASTIAN	And so had mine.
VIOLA	And died that day when Viola from her birth Had numbered thirteen years.
SEBASTIAN	O, that record is lively in my soul. He finished indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years.
VIOLA	If nothing lets to make us happy both But this my masculine usurped attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune do cohere and jump That I am Viola, which to confirm I’ll bring you to a captain in this town Where lie my maiden weeds, by whose gentle help I was preserved to serve this noble count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord.
SEBASTIAN	(to Olivia) So comes it, lady, you have been mistook. But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid, Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived. You are betrothed both to a maid and man.
ORSINO	(to Olivia) Be not amazed. Right noble is his blood. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck. (To Viola) Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
VIOLA	And all those sayings will I overswear, And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from night.
ORSINO	Give me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.
VIOLA	The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maid’s garments. He upon some action Is now in durance, at Malvolio’s suit, A gentleman and follower of my lady’s.
OLIVIA	He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither— And yet, alas, now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distraught.
(didascalia)	Enter Feste the clown with a letter, and Fabian
OLIVIA	A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banished his. How does he, sirrah?
FESTE	Truly, madam, he holds Beelzebub at the stave’s end as well as a man in his case may do. He’s here writ a letter to you. I should have given’t you today morning. But as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.
OLIVIA	Open’t and read it.
FESTE	Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman. (Reads) ‘By the Lord, madam’—
OLIVIA	How now, art thou mad?
FESTE	No, madam, I do but read madness. An your ladyship will have it as it ought to be you must allow vox.
OLIVIA	Prithee, read i’thy right wits.
FESTE	So I do, madonna, but to read his right wits is to read thus. Therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.
OLIVIA	(to Fabian) Read it you, sirrah. Feste gives the letter to Fabian
FABIAN	(reads) ‘By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on, with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-used Malvolio.’
OLIVIA	Did he write this?
FESTE	Ay, madam.
ORSINO	This savours not much of distraction.
OLIVIA	See him delivered, Fabian, bring him hither. My lord, so please you—these things further thought on— To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown th‘alliance on’t, so please you, Here at my house and at my proper cost.
ORSINO	Madam, I am most apt t’embrace your offer. (To Viola) Your master quits you, and for your service done him So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you called me master for so long, Here is my hand. You shall from this time be Your master’s mistress.
OLIVIA	(to Viola) A sister, you are she.
(didascalia)	Enter Malvolio
ORSINO	Is this the madman?
OLIVIA	Ay, my lord, this same. How now, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong.
OLIVIA	Have I, Malvolio? No.
MALVOLIO	(showing a letter) Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand. Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase, Or say ‘tis not your seal, not your invention. You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me in the modesty of honour Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, Bade me come smiling and cross-gartered to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people, And acting this in an obedient hope, Why have you suffered me to be imprisoned, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck and gull That e’er invention played on? Tell me why?
OLIVIA	Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though I confess much like the character, But out of question, ‘tis Maria’s hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me thou wast mad; then cam’st in smiling, And in such forms which here were presupposed Upon thee in the letter. Prithee be content; This practice hath most shrewdly passed upon thee, But when we know the grounds and authors of it Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause.
FABIAN	Good madam, hear me speak, And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wondered at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confess myself and Toby Set this device against Malvolio here Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceived against him. Maria writ The letter, at Sir Toby’s great importance, In recompense whereof he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was followed May rather pluck on laughter than revenge If that the injuries be justly weighed That have on both sides passed.
OLIVIA	(to Malvolio) Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!
FESTE	Why, ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them.’ I was one, sir, in this interlude, one Sir Topas, sir; but that’s all one. ‘By the Lord, fool, I am not mad’—but do you remember, ‘Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal, an you smile not, he’s gagged’—and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
MALVOLIO	I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you. Exit
OLIVIA	He hath been most notoriously abused.
ORSINO	Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace. He hath not told us of the captain yet.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
ORSINO	When that is known, and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence. Cesario, come— For so you shall be while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino’s mistress, and his fancy’s queen.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Feste
FESTE	(sings) When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man’s estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, ’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With tosspots still had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day. A great while ago the world begun, With hey ho, the wind and the rain, But that’s all one, our play is done, And we’ll strive to please you every day.
(didascalia)	Exit
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA	Troilus and Cressida, first heard of in a Stationers’ Register entry of 7 February 1603, was probably written within the previous eighteen months. This entry did not result in publication; the play was re-entered on 28 January 1609, and a quarto appeared during that year. The version printed in the 1623 Folio adds a Prologue, and has many variations in dialogue. It includes the epilogue spoken by Pandarus (which we print as an Additional Passage), but certain features of the text suggest that it does so by accident, and that the epilogue had been marked for omission. Our text is based in substance on the Folio in the belief that this represents the play in its later, revised form. The story of the siege of Troy was the main subject of one of the greatest surviving works of classical literature, Homer’s Iliad, probably Shakespeare read George Chapman’s 1598 translation of Books 1―2 and 7―11. The story also figures prominently in Virgil’s Aeneid and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, both of which Shakespeare knew well. The war between Greece and Troy had been provoked by the abduction of the Grecian Helen (better, if confusingly, known as Helen of Troy) by the Trojan hero Paris, son of King Priam. Shakespeare’s play opens when the Greek forces, led by Menelaus’ brother Agamemnon, have already been besieging Troy for seven years. Shakespeare concentrates on the opposition between the Greek hero Achilles and the Trojan Hector. In the Folio, Troilus and Cressida is printed among the tragedies; if there is a tragic hero, it is Hector. Shakespeare also shows how the war caused by one love affair destroys another. The stories of the love between the Trojan Troilus and the Grecian Cressida, encouraged by her uncle Pandarus, and of Cressida’s desertion of Troilus for the Greek Diomedes, are medieval additions to the heroic narrative. Chaucer’s long poem Troilus and Criseyde was already a classic, and Shakespeare would also have known Robert Henryson’s continuation, The Testament of Cresseid, in which Cressida, deserted by Diomedes, dwindles into a leprous beggar. Troilus and Cressida is a demanding play, Shakespeare’s third longest, highly philosophical in tone and with an exceptionally learned vocabulary. Possibly (as has often been conjectured) he wrote it for private performance; the 1603 Stationers’ Register entry says it had been acted by the King’s Men, and the original title-page of the 1609 quarto repeats this claim, but while the edition was being printed this title-page was replaced by one that does not mention performance, and an epistle was added claiming that it was ‘a new play, never staled with the stage, never clapper-clawed with the palms of the vulgar’. An adaptation by John Dryden of 1679 was successfully acted from time to time for half a century, but the first verified performance of Shakespeare’s play was in Germany in 1898, and that was heavily adapted. Troilus and Cressida came into its own in the twentieth century, when its deflation of heroes, its radical questioning of human values (especially in relation to love and war), and its remorseless examination of the frailty of human aspirations in the face of the destructive powers of time seemed particularly apposite to modern intellectual and ethical preoccupations.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY
PROLOGUE	Trojans PRIAM, King of Troy CASSANDRA, Priam’s daughter, a prophetess ANDROMACHE, wife of Hector PANDARUS, a lord CRESSIDA, his niece CALCHAS, her father, who has joined the Greeks HELEN, wife of Menelaus, now living with Paris ALEXANDER, servant of Cressida Servants of Troilus, musicians, soldiers, attendants Greeks AGAMEMNON, Commander-in-Chief MENELAUS, his brother
ACHILLES	PATROCLUS, his companion
THERSITES	MYRMIDONS, soldiers of Achilles Servants of Diomedes, soldiers

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Music. Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other lords
ORSINO	If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die. That strain again, it had a dying fall. O, it came o‘er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour. Enough, no more, ’Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
(didascalia)	Music ceases
ORSINO	O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, naught enters there, Of what validity and pitch so e’er, But falls into abatement and low price Even in a minute! So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.
CURIO	Will you go hunt, my lord?
ORSINO	What, Curio?
CURIO	The hart.
ORSINO	Why so I do, the noblest that I have. O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first Methought she purged the air of pestilence; That instant was I turned into a hart, And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E’er since pursue me.
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine
ORSINO	How now, what news from her?
VALENTINE	So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself till seven years’ heat Shall not behold her face at ample view, But like a cloistress she will veiled walk And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine—all this to season A brother’s dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance.
ORSINO	O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love when the rich golden shaft Hath killed the flock of all affections else That live in her—when liver, brain, and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled Her sweet perfections with one self king! Away before me to sweet beds of flowers. Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Musica. Entrano Orsino duca d’Illiria, Curio e altri signori
ORSINO	Se la musica è il cibo dell’amore, suonate ancora, datemene in eccesso, affinché, saziandosi, l’appetito s’ammali e così muoia. Quella cadenza di nuovo: aveva un morente declinare. Oh, mi giunse all’orecchio come il dolce suono che spira sopra un’aiuola di violette, rubando e donando profumo. Basta, non più, non è più dolce ora come lo era prima.
(didascalia)	La musica cessa
ORSINO	Oh spirito d’amore, quanto sei rapido e fresco! Ché, per quanto la tua capienza accolga al pari del mare, nulla vi entra, di qualsivoglia pregio e altezza, che non decada in scadimento e vil prezzo anche in un solo minuto! Tanto piena di forme è la fantasia che essa sola è altamente fantastica.
CURIO	Volete andare a caccia, mio signore?
ORSINO	Che cosa, Curio?
CURIO	Il cervo.
ORSINO	Ma è appunto quel che faccio, il più nobile ch’io abbia. Oh, quando i miei occhi videro Olivia la prima volta mi parve ch’ella purgasse l’aria dalla pestilenza; in quell’istante fui mutato in cervo, e i miei desideri, come cani feroci e crudeli, da allora mi danno la caccia.
(didascalia)	Entra Valentino
ORSINO	Ebbene, che notizie porti da lei?
VALENTINO	Col vostro permesso, signore, non mi fu dato d’entrare, ma dalla sua ancella riporto questa risposta: l’aria stessa, fino al calore di sette anni, non contemplerà il suo volto a pieno scoperto, ma come una monaca di clausura andrà velata e bagnerà una volta al giorno tutta la sua stanza con salsedine che offende gli occhi—tutto questo per serbare il morto amore d’un fratello, che vuol mantenere fresco e duraturo nella sua mesta memoria.
ORSINO	Oh, colei che ha un cuore di sì nobile tempra da pagare questo debito d’amore a un solo fratello, come amerà quando il ricco strale d’oro avrà ucciso lo stuolo d’ogni altro affetto che vive in lei—quando fegato, cervello e cuore, questi troni sovrani, saranno tutti forniti, e colme le sue dolci perfezioni da un unico e medesimo re! Precedetemi verso dolci letti di fiori. Amorosi pensieri giacciono ricchi sotto le volte delle frasche.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Viola, a Captain, and sailors
VIOLA	What country, friends, is this?
CAPTAIN	This is Illyria, lady.
VIOLA	And what should I do in Illyria? My brother, he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drowned. What think you sailors?
CAPTAIN	It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
VIOLA	O my poor brother!—and so perchance may he be.
CAPTAIN	True, madam, and to comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you and those poor number saved with you Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself— Courage and hope both teaching him the practice— To a strong mast that lived upon the sea, Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves So long as I could see.
VIOLA	(giving money) For saying so, there’s gold. Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him. Know’st thou this country?
CAPTAIN	Ay, madam, well, for I was bred and born Not three hours’ travel from this very place.
VIOLA	Who governs here?
CAPTAIN	A noble duke, in nature As in name.
VIOLA	What is his name?
CAPTAIN	Orsino.
VIOLA	Orsino. I have heard my father name him. He was a bachelor then.
CAPTAIN	And so is now, or was so very late, For but a month ago I went from hence, And then ’twas fresh in murmur—as, you know, What great ones do the less will prattle of— That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
VIOLA	What’s she?
CAPTAIN	A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died, for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjured the sight And company of men.
VIOLA	O that I served that lady, And might not be delivered to the world Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is.
CAPTAIN	That were hard to compass, Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the Duke’s.
VIOLA	There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain, And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character. I pray thee—and I’ll pay thee bounteously— Conceal me what I am, and be my aid For such disguise as haply shall become The form of my intent. I’ll serve this duke. Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him. It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing, And speak to him in many sorts of music That will allow me very worth his service. What else may hap, to time I will commit. Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
CAPTAIN	Be you his eunuch, and your mute I’ll be. When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
VIOLA	I thank thee. Lead me on.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Viola, un Capitano e marinai
VIOLA	Che paese è questo, amici?
CAPITANO	Questa è l’Illiria, signora.
VIOLA	E che dovrei fare io in Illiria? Mio fratello è nell’Elisio. Forse non è annegato. Che ne dite, marinai?
CAPITANO	Fu un caso che voi stessa foste salvata.
VIOLA	Oh, il mio povero fratello!—e così forse può esserlo anche lui.
CAPITANO	È vero, madonna, e per confortarvi col caso, siatene certa: dopo che la nostra nave si spezzò, quando voi e quei pochi salvati con voi vi reggeste alla scialuppa in balìa dell’onda, io vidi vostro fratello, assai previdente nel pericolo, legarsi— il coraggio e la speranza insieme insegnandogli il modo— a un forte albero che galleggiava sul mare, dove, come Arione sul dorso del delfino, lo vidi tener dimestichezza con i flutti fin dove giunse il mio sguardo.
VIOLA	(dandogli del denaro) Per aver detto questo, eccoti dell’oro. Il mio proprio scampo dischiude alla mia speranza, cui il tuo racconto serve d’autorità, lo stesso per lui. Conosci tu questo paese?
CAPITANO	Sì, madonna, e bene, ché fui cresciuto e nato a non tre ore di cammino da questo stesso luogo.
VIOLA	Chi governa qui?
CAPITANO	Un nobile duca, di natura come di nome.
VIOLA	Qual è il suo nome?
CAPITANO	Orsino.
VIOLA	Orsino. Ho udito mio padre nominarlo. Era scapolo allora.
CAPITANO	E lo è tuttora, o lo era pochissimo tempo fa, ché appena un mese addietro partii di qui, e allora era fresco nel mormorio—giacché, sapete, ciò che fanno i grandi i piccoli lo cianciano— ch’egli cercava l’amore della bella Olivia.
VIOLA	Chi è costei?
CAPITANO	Una vergine virtuosa, figlia d’un conte morto or è circa un anno, che la lasciò sotto la protezione del figlio suo, il fratello di lei, il quale poco dopo anch’egli morì; e per il caro amore di lui, dicono, ella ha abiurato la vista e la compagnia degli uomini.
VIOLA	Oh, potessi io servire quella dama, e non essere consegnata al mondo finché non avessi maturato la mia occasione, di far noto quale sia la mia condizione.
CAPITANO	Sarebbe arduo da ottenere, perché ella non ammette suppliche d’alcun genere, no, nemmeno quelle del Duca.
VIOLA	C’è un bel contegno in te, capitano, e benché la natura dietro un muro leggiadro spesso rinchiuda corruzione, pure di te vorrò credere che tu abbia un animo che s’accorda con questo tuo bello ed esteriore aspetto. Ti prego—e ti pagherò generosamente— di celare quel che sono, e d’essermi d’aiuto per quel travestimento che meglio s’addica alla forma del mio disegno. Servirò questo duca. Tu mi presenterai a lui come un eunuco. Può valere la tua fatica, ché io so cantare, e parlargli in molte sorti di musica che mi renderanno assai degna del suo servizio. Quel che altro può accadere, al tempo lo rimetto. Tu soltanto foggia il tuo silenzio al mio ingegno.
CAPITANO	Siate voi il suo eunuco, e il vostro muto io sarò. Quando la mia lingua ciarli, allora i miei occhi non vedano più.
VIOLA	Ti ringrazio. Guidami.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria
SIR TOBY	What a plague means my niece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care’s an enemy to life.
MARIA	By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o’ nights. Your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.
SIR TOBY	Why, let her except, before excepted.
MARIA	Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
SIR TOBY	Confine? I’ll confine myself no finer than I am. These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.
MARIA	That quaffing and drinking will undo you. I heard my lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.
SIR TOBY	Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
MARIA	Ay, he.
SIR TOBY	He’s as tall a man as any’s in Illyria.
MARIA	What’s that to th’ purpose?
SIR TOBY	Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
MARIA	Ay, but he’ll have but a year in all these ducats. He’s a very fool, and a prodigal.
SIR TOBY	Fie that you’ll say so! He plays o’th’ viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.
MARIA	He hath indeed, almost natural, for besides that he’s a fool, he’s a great quarreller, and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, ’tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave.
SIR TOBY	By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they?
MARIA	They that add, moreover, he’s drunk nightly in your company.
SIR TOBY	With drinking healths to my niece. I’ll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria. He’s a coward and a coistrel that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o’th’ toe, like a parish top. What wench, Castiliano, vulgo, for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Andrew Aguecheek
SIR ANDREW	Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch?
SIR TOBY	Sweet Sir Andrew.
SIR ANDREW	(to Maria) Bless you, fair shrew.
MARIA	And you too, sir.
SIR TOBY	Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
SIR ANDREW	What’s that?
SIR TOBY	My niece’s chambermaid.
SIR ANDREW	Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
MARIA	My name is Mary, sir.
SIR ANDREW	Good Mistress Mary Accost.
SIR TOBY	You mistake, knight. ’Accost’ is front her, board her, woo her, assail her.
SIR ANDREW	By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of ‘accost’?
MARIA	Fare you well, gentlemen.
SIR TOBY	An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again.
SIR ANDREW	An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?
MARIA	Sir, I have not you by th’ hand.
SIR ANDREW	Marry, but you shall have, and here’s my hand.
MARIA	(taking his hand) Now sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to th’ buttery-bar, and let it drink.
SIR ANDREW	Wherefore, sweetheart? What’s your metaphor?
MARIA	It’s dry, sir.
SIR ANDREW	Why, I think so. I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what’s your jest?
MARIA	A dry jest, sir.
SIR ANDREW	Are you full of them?
MARIA	Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers’ ends. Marry, now I let go your hand I am barren. Exit
SIR TOBY	O knight, thou lackest a cup of canary. When did I see thee so put down?
SIR ANDREW	Never in your life, I think, unless you see canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
SIR TOBY	No question.
SIR ANDREW	An I thought that, I’d forswear it. I’ll ride home tomorrow, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY	Pourquoi, my dear knight?
SIR ANDREW	What is ‘Pourquoi’? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O, had I but followed the arts!
SIR TOBY	Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
SIR ANDREW	Why, would that have mended my hair?
SIR TOBY	Past question, for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
SIR ANDREW	But it becomes me well enough, does’t not?
SIR TOBY	Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin it off.
SIR ANDREW	Faith, I’ll home tomorrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will not be seen, or if she be, it’s four to one she’ll none of me. The Count himself here hard by woos her.
SIR TOBY	She’ll none o‘th’ Count. She’ll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit, I have heard her swear’t. Tut, there’s life in’t, man.
SIR ANDREW	I’ll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o‘th’ strangest mind i’th’ world. I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether.
SIR TOBY	Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
SIR ANDREW	As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.
SIR TOBY	What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? SIR ANDREW Faith, I can cut a caper.
SIR TOBY	And I can cut the mutton to’t.
SIR ANDREW	And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
SIR TOBY	Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have these gifts a curtain before ’em? Are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall’s picture? Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig. I would not so much as make water but in a cinquepace. What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think by the excellent constitution of thy leg it was formed under the star of a galliard.
SIR ANDREW	Ay, ’tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a divers-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?
SIR TOBY	What shall we do else—were we not born under Taurus?
SIR ANDREW	Taurus? That’s sides and heart.
SIR TOBY	No, sir, it is legs and thighs: let me see thee caper.
(didascalia)	Sir Andrew capers
SIR TOBY	Ha, higher! Ha ha, excellent.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Ser Toby Belch e Maria
SER TOBY	Che diavolo intende mia nipote a prendersi così la morte del fratello? Son certo che l’affanno è nemico della vita.
MARIA	In fede mia, ser Toby, dovete rincasare più presto la sera. Vostra cugina, la mia signora, ha molto da ridire sulle vostre ore sregolate.
SER TOBY	Ebbene, che ridica pure, prima di ridire.
MARIA	Sì, ma dovete contenervi entro i modesti limiti dell’ordine.
SER TOBY	Contenermi? Non mi conterò più fino di come sono. Questi panni son buoni abbastanza per berci dentro, e così pure questi stivali; e se non lo sono, che s’impicchino alle proprie stringhe.
MARIA	Quel tracannare e bere vi rovinerà. Ho udito la mia signora parlarne ieri, e d’un cavaliere sciocco che una notte portaste qui perché le facesse la corte.
SER TOBY	Chi, Ser Andrew Aguecheek?
MARIA	Sì, lui.
SER TOBY	È un uomo alto quanto ogni altro in Illiria.
MARIA	E che c’entra questo?
SER TOBY	Ebbene, ha tremila ducati l’anno.
MARIA	Sì, ma avrà appena un anno per tutti quei ducati. È un vero sciocco, e uno scialacquatore.
SER TOBY	Vergogna, che diciate questo! Suona la viola da gamba, e parla tre o quattro lingue parola per parola senza libro, e ha tutti i buoni doni della natura.
MARIA	Li ha davvero, quasi da idiota di natura; perché, oltre a essere uno sciocco, è un gran litigioso, e se non avesse il dono della codardia a placare il gusto che prova nel litigare, si pensa fra i prudenti che avrebbe presto il dono d’una fossa.
SER TOBY	Per questa mano, son furfanti e detrattori quelli che dicono ciò di lui. Chi sono?
MARIA	Quelli che aggiungono, per giunta, che si ubriaca ogni notte in vostra compagnia.
SER TOBY	Bevendo alla salute di mia nipote. Berrò a lei finché ci sarà un passaggio nella mia gola e del vino in Illiria. È un codardo e un pezzente chi non berrà a mia nipote finché il cervello non gli giri sulla punta del piede, come una trottola di parrocchia. Su, ragazza, Castiliano vulgo, ché ecco venire ser Andrew Faccia-di-Febbre.
(didascalia)	Entra Ser Andrew Aguecheek
SER ANDREW	Ser Toby Belch! Ebbene, ser Toby Belch?
SER TOBY	Dolce ser Andrew.
SER ANDREW	(a Maria) Dio vi benedica, bella bisbetica.
MARIA	E anche voi, signore.
SER TOBY	All’abbordaggio, ser Andrew, all’abbordaggio.
SER ANDREW	Che vuol dire?
SER TOBY	La cameriera di mia nipote.
SER ANDREW	Buona madonna Abbordaggio, desidero far miglior conoscenza.
MARIA	Il mio nome è Maria, signore.
SER ANDREW	Buona madonna Maria Abbordaggio.
SER TOBY	Vi sbagliate, cavaliere. «Abbordare» vuol dire affrontarla, salirle a bordo, corteggiarla, assalirla.
SER ANDREW	In fede mia, non l’affronterei in questa compagnia. È questo il significato di «abbordare»?
MARIA	State bene, signori.
SER TOBY	Se la lasci andar così, ser Andrew, che tu non possa mai più sguainare la spada.
SER ANDREW	Se ve n’andate così, madonna, vorrei non poter mai più sguainare la spada. Bella dama, credete d’aver degli sciocchi per le mani?
MARIA	Signore, non ho voi per la mano.
SER ANDREW	Perbacco, ma l’avrete: ecco la mia mano.
MARIA	(prendendogli la mano) Ora, signore, il pensiero è libero. Vi prego, portate la vostra mano al banco della dispensa, e fatela bere.
SER ANDREW	Perché mai, cuor mio? Che metafora è la vostra?
MARIA	È asciutta, signore.
SER ANDREW	Ebbene, credo di sì. Non sono tanto asino da non saper tenere asciutta la mia mano. Ma dov’è la vostra facezia?
MARIA	Una facezia asciutta, signore.
SER ANDREW	Ne siete piena?
MARIA	Sì, signore, le ho sulla punta delle dita. Perbacco, ora che lascio la vostra mano son rimasta sterile. Esce
SER TOBY	Oh cavaliere, ti manca una coppa di vin delle Canarie. Quando mai t’ho visto così abbattuto?
SER ANDREW	Mai in vita vostra, credo, se non quando avete visto il vin delle Canarie abbattermi. Mi pare che a volte non abbia più ingegno d’un cristiano o d’un uomo comune; ma sono un gran mangiatore di manzo, e credo che ciò faccia danno al mio ingegno.
SER TOBY	Senza dubbio.
SER ANDREW	Se lo credessi, vi rinuncerei. Cavalcherò verso casa domani, ser Toby.
SER TOBY	Pourquoi, mio caro cavaliere?
SER ANDREW	Che cos’è «Pourquoi»? Fare, o non fare? Vorrei aver speso nelle lingue quel tempo che ho speso nella scherma, nella danza e nella caccia all’orso. Oh, avessi seguito le arti!
SER TOBY	Allora avresti avuto un’eccellente capigliatura.
SER ANDREW	Ma come, ciò avrebbe migliorato i miei capelli?
SER TOBY	Fuor di dubbio, ché vedi bene che non s’arricciano per natura.
SER ANDREW	Ma mi stanno abbastanza bene, non è vero?
SER TOBY	Eccellentemente: pendono come lino da una conocchia, e spero di veder qualche massaia prenderti fra le gambe e filarteli via.
SER ANDREW	In fede mia, me ne andrò a casa domani, ser Toby. Vostra nipote non si lascia vedere; e se anche si lasciasse, c’è da scommettere quattro contro uno che non ne vorrà sapere di me. Il Conte in persona, qui vicino, le fa la corte.
SER TOBY	Non ne vorrà sapere del Conte. Non si accoppierà al di sopra del suo grado, né per beni, né per anni, né per ingegno; gliel’ho udito giurare. Suvvia, c’è ancora speranza, uomo.
SER ANDREW	Resterò un mese di più. Sono un tipo dall’indole più strana del mondo. Mi diletto di mascherate e baldorie, talvolta tutt’insieme.
SER TOBY	Sei bravo in queste inezie, cavaliere?
SER ANDREW	Quanto ogni uomo in Illiria, chiunque egli sia, al di sotto del grado dei miei superiori; e tuttavia non mi paragonerò a un vecchio.
SER TOBY	Qual è la tua eccellenza in una gagliarda, cavaliere? SER ANDREW In fede mia, so tagliare una capriola.
SER TOBY	E io so tagliare il montone che l’accompagna.
SER ANDREW	E credo d’avere il passo all’indietro forte quanto ogni uomo in Illiria.
SER TOBY	Perché queste cose stanno nascoste? Perché questi doni hanno una tenda davanti? Sono forse fatti per prender polvere, come il ritratto di madonna Mall? Perché non vai in chiesa in gagliarda, e non torni a casa in coranta? La mia stessa andatura dovrebbe essere una giga. Non farei nemmeno acqua se non in cinquepassi. Che intendi fare? È forse un mondo in cui nascondere le virtù? Pensavo davvero, dall’eccellente costituzione della tua gamba, che fosse formata sotto la stella d’una gagliarda.
SER ANDREW	Sì, è forte, e figura discretamente bene in una calza di più colori. Vogliamo dar mano a qualche baldoria?
SER TOBY	Che altro dovremmo fare—non siamo forse nati sotto il Toro?
SER ANDREW	Il Toro? Quello è fianchi e cuore.
SER TOBY	No, signore, è gambe e cosce: fammiti vedere far capriole.
(didascalia)	Ser Andrew fa capriole
SER TOBY	Ah, più alto! Ah ah, eccellente.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Valentine, and Viola (as Cesario) in man’s attire
VALENTINE	If the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced. He hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.
VIOLA	You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
VALENTINE	No, believe me.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke, Curio, and attendants
VIOLA	I thank you. Here comes the Count.
ORSINO	Who saw Cesario, ho?
VIOLA	On your attendance, my lord, here.
ORSINO	(to Curio and attendants) Stand you a while aloof. (To Viola) Cesario, Thou know’st no less but all. I have unclasped To thee the book even of my secret soul. Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her, Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou have audience.
VIOLA	Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandoned to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
ORSINO	Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return.
VIOLA	Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
ORSINO	O then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith. It shall become thee well to act my woes— She will attend it better in thy youth Than in a nuncio’s of more grave aspect.
VIOLA	I think not so, my lord.
ORSINO	Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie thy happy years That say thou art a man. Diana’s lip Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman’s part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affair. (To Curio and attendants) Some four or five attend him. All if you will, for I myself am best When least in company. (To Viola) Prosper well in this And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine.
VIOLA	I’ll do my best
(didascalia)	To woo your lady—aside yet a barful strife—
VIOLA	Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Valentino e Viola (come Cesario) in abito maschile
VALENTINO	Se il Duca continua questi favori verso di voi, Cesario, è probabile che sarete molto innalzato. Vi conosce da soli tre giorni, e già non siete più un estraneo.
VIOLA	O temete il suo umore o la mia negligenza, se mettete in dubbio la durata del suo affetto. È forse incostante, signore, nei suoi favori?
VALENTINO	No, credetemi.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Duca, Curio e servitori
VIOLA	Vi ringrazio. Ecco venire il Conte.
ORSINO	Chi ha visto Cesario, olà?
VIOLA	Al vostro servizio, mio signore, qui.
ORSINO	(a Curio e ai servitori) Tenetevi un poco in disparte. (A Viola) Cesario, tu non sai meno del tutto. Ti ho dischiuso il libro stesso della mia segreta anima. Perciò, buon giovane, volgi i tuoi passi verso di lei, non lasciarti negare l’accesso, sta’ alle sue porte, e di’ loro che il tuo piede fermo vi metterà radici finché non avrai udienza.
VIOLA	Certo, mio nobile signore, se ella è tanto abbandonata al suo dolore quanto si dice, non mi ammetterà mai.
ORSINO	Fa’ clamore, e valica ogni civile confine, piuttosto che tornare senza profitto.
VIOLA	Poniamo che io le parli, mio signore: e allora?
ORSINO	Oh, allora dispiega la passione del mio amore, sorprendila col discorso della mia cara fede. Ti si addirà bene recitare le mie pene— ella vi presterà miglior ascolto nella tua giovinezza che in un nunzio d’aspetto più grave.
VIOLA	Non credo, mio signore.
ORSINO	Caro ragazzo, credilo; ché smentiscono i tuoi felici anni coloro che dicono che sei un uomo. Il labbro di Diana non è più liscio né più rubicondo; la tua piccola voce è come l’organo d’una fanciulla, acuta e limpida, e tutto in te somiglia a una parte di donna. So che la tua costellazione è quanto mai adatta a questa impresa. (A Curio e ai servitori) Quattro o cinque di voi lo accompagnino. Tutti, se volete, ché io sto meglio quando son meno in compagnia. (A Viola) Riesci bene in questo e vivrai libero quanto il tuo signore, chiamando tue le sue fortune.
VIOLA	Farò del mio meglio
(didascalia)	Per corteggiare la vostra dama—a parte: eppure ostacolato contrasto—
VIOLA	Chiunque io corteggi, io stessa vorrei essere sua moglie.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Maria, and Feste, the clown
MARIA	Nay, either tell me where thou hast been or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence.
FESTE	Let her hang me. He that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.
MARIA	Make that good.
FESTE	He shall see none to fear.
MARIA	A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where that saying was born, of ‘I fear no colours’.
FESTE	Where, good Mistress Mary?
MARIA	In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.
FESTE	Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
MARIA	Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent, or to be turned away—is not that as good as a hanging to you?
FESTE	Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out.
MARIA	You are resolute then?
FESTE	Not so neither, but I am resolved on two points.
MARIA	That if one break, the other will hold; or if both break, your gaskins fall.
FESTE	Apt, in good faith, very apt. Well, go thy way. If Sir Toby would leave drinking thou wert as witty a piece of Eve’s flesh as any in lllyria.
MARIA	Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that. Here comes my lady. Make your excuse wisely, you were best.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia, with Malvolio and attendants
(didascalia)	FESTE aside Wit, an’t be thy will, put me into good footing! Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools, and I that am sure I lack thee may pass for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus?—‘Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.’ (To Olivia) God bless thee, lady.
OLIVIA	(to attendants) Take the fool away.
FESTE	Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.
OLIVIA	Go to, you’re a dry fool. I’ll no more of you. Besides, you grow dishonest.
FESTE	Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend, for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself: if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Anything that’s mended is but patched. Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin, and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so. If it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty’s a flower. The lady bade take away the fool, therefore I say again, take her away.
OLIVIA	Sir, I bade them take away you.
FESTE	Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, ‘Cucullus non facit monachum’—that’s as much to say as I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.
OLIVIA	Can you do it?
FESTE	Dexteriously, good madonna.
OLIVIA	Make your proof.
FESTE	I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good my mouse of virtue, answer me.
OLIVIA	Well, sir, for want of other idleness I’ll bide your proof.
FESTE	Good madonna, why mournest thou?
OLIVIA	Good fool, for my brother’s death.
FESTE	I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
OLIVIA	I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
FESTE	The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul, being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.
OLIVIA	What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Doth he not mend?
MALVOLIO	Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.
FESTE	God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity for the better increasing your folly. Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool.
OLIVIA	How say you to that, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal. I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he’s out of his guard already. Unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest I take these wise men that crow so at these set kind of fools no better than the fools’ zanies.
OLIVIA	O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition is to take those things for birdbolts that you deem cannon bullets. There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.
FESTE	Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools.
(didascalia)	Enter Maria
MARIA	Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you.
OLIVIA	From the Count Orsino, is it?
MARIA	I know not, madam. ’Tis a fair young man, and well attended.
OLIVIA	Who of my people hold him in delay?
MARIA	Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
OLIVIA	Fetch him off, I pray you, he speaks nothing but madman. Fie on him. Go you, Malvolio. If it be a suit from the Count, I am sick, or not at home—what you will to dismiss it. Exit Malvolio Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
FESTE	Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool, whose skull Jove cram with brains, for—here he comes—
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby
FESTE	one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.
OLIVIA	By mine honour, half-drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?
SIR TOBY	A gentleman.
OLIVIA	A gentleman? What gentleman?
SIR TOBY	’Tis a gentleman here. (He belches) A plague o’ these pickle herring! (To Feste) How now, sot?
FESTE	Good Sir Toby.
OLIVIA	Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
SIR TOBY	Lechery? I defy lechery. There’s one at the gate. OLIVIA Ay, marry, what is he?
SIR TOBY	Let him be the devil an he will, I care not. Give me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.
(didascalia)	Exit
OLIVIA	What’s a drunken man like, fool?
FESTE	Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman—one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him, and a third drowns him.
OLIVIA	Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o’ my coz, for he’s in the third degree of drink, he’s drowned. Go look after him.
FESTE	He is but mad yet, madonna, and the fool shall look to the madman.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Malvolio
MALVOLIO	Madam, yon young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick—he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleep—he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? He’s fortified against any denial.
OLIVIA	Tell him he shall not speak with me.
MALVOLIO	He’s been told so, and he says he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff’s post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he’ll speak with you.
OLIVIA	What kind o’ man is he?
MALVOCIO	Why, of mankind.
OLIVIA	What manner of man?
MALVOLIO	Of very ill manner: he’ll speak with you, will you or no.
OLIVIA	Of what personage and years is he?
MALVOLIO	Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before ‘tis a peascod, or a codling when ’tis almost an apple. ’Tis with him in standing water between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly. One would think his mother’s milk were scarce out of him.
OLIVIA	Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.
MALVOLIO	Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Maria
OLIVIA	Give me my veil. Come, throw it o’er my face. We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.
(didascalia)	Enter Viola as Cesario
VIOLA	The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
OLIVIA	Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your will.
VIOLA	Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty. —I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her. I would be loath to cast away my speech, for besides that it is excellently well penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very ’countable, even to the least sinister usage.
OLIVIA	Whence came you, sir?
VIOLA	I can say little more than I have studied, and that question’s out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.
OLIVIA	Are you a comedian?
VIOLA	No, my profound heart; and yet—by the very fangs of malice I swear—I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?
OLIVIA	If I do not usurp myself, I am.
VIOLA	Most certain if you are she you do usurp yourself, for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission. I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message.
OLIVIA	Come to what is important in’t, I forgive you the praise.
VIOLA	Alas, I took great pains to study it, and ’tis poetical.
OLIVIA	It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone. If you have reason, be brief. ’Tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
MARIA	Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way.
VIOLA	No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer. (To Olivia) Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Tell me your mind, I am a messenger.
OLIVIA	Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
VIOLA	It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage. I hold the olive in my hand. My words are as full of peace as matter.
OLIVIA	Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?
VIOLA	The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment. What I am and what I would are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears, divinity; to any others’, profanation.
(didascalia)	OLIVIA (to Maria and attendants) Give us the place alone, we will hear this divinity.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Maria and attendants
VIOLA	Now sir, what is your text?
VIOLA	Most sweet lady—
OLIVIA	A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text?
VIOLA	In Orsino’s bosom.
OLIVIA	In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
VIOLA	To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
OLIVIA	O, I have read it. It is heresy. Have you no more to say?
VIOLA	Good madam, let me see your face.
OLIVIA	Have 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 show you the picture. She unveils Look you, sir, such a one I was this present. Is’t not well done?
VIOLA	Excellently done, if God did all.
OLIVIA	‘Tis in grain, sir, ’twill endure wind and weather.
VIOLA	‘Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Lady, you are the cruell’st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.
OLIVIA	O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. I will give out divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried and every particle and utensil labelled to my will, as, item, two lips, indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me?
VIOLA	I see you what you are, you are too proud, But if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you. O, such love Could be but recompensed though you were crowned The nonpareil of beauty.
OLIVIA	How does he love me?
VIOLA	With adorations, fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
OLIVIA	Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him. Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth, In voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant, And in dimension and the shape of nature A gracious person; but yet I cannot love him. He might have took his answer long ago.
VIOLA	If I did love you in my master’s flame, With such a suff’ring, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense, I would not understand it.
OLIVIA	Why, what would you?
VIOLA	Make me a willow cabin at your gate And call upon my soul within the house, Write loyal cantons of contemnèd love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night; Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out ‘Olivia!’ O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth But you should pity me.
OLIVIA	You might do much. What is your parentage?
VIOLA	Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. I am a gentleman.
OLIVIA	Get you to your lord. I cannot love him. Let him send no more, Unless, perchance, you come to me again To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well. I thank you for your pains. (Offering a purse) Spend this for me.
VIOLA	I am no fee’d post, lady. Keep your purse. My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of flint that you shall love, And let your fervour, like my master’s, be Placed in contempt. Farewell, fair cruelty. Exit
OLIVIA	‘What is your parentage?’ ‘Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. I am a gentleman.’ I’ll be sworn thou art. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit Do give thee five-fold blazon. Not too fast. Soft, soft— Unless the master were the man. How now? Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Methinks I feel this youth’s perfections With an invisible and subtle stealth To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. What ho, Malvolio.
(didascalia)	Enter Malvolio
MALVOLIO	Here, madam, at your service.
OLIVIA	Run after that same peevish messenger The County’s man. He left this ring behind him, Would I or not. Tell him I’ll none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his lord, Nor hold him up with hopes. I am not for him. If that the youth will come this way tomorrow, I’ll give him reasons for’t. Hie thee, Malvolio.
MALVOLIO	Madam, I will.
(didascalia)	Exit at one door
OLIVIA	I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe. What is decreed must be; and be this so.
(didascalia)	Exit at another door

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Maria e Feste, il buffone
MARIA	No: o mi dici dove sei stato, o non aprirò le labbra tanto da lasciarvi entrare una setola a favore della tua scusa. La mia signora t’impiccherà per la tua assenza.
FESTE	Che m’impicchi pure. Chi è ben impiccato in questo mondo non ha da temere alcun colore.
MARIA	Dimostralo.
FESTE	Non ne vedrà alcuno da temere.
MARIA	Una buona risposta di magro. Ti so dire dove nacque quel detto, «non temo colori».
FESTE	Dove, buona madonna Maria?
MARIA	In guerra; e questo potete arditamente dirlo nelle vostre buffonerie.
FESTE	Bene, Dio dia saggezza a chi la possiede; e quelli che sono sciocchi, che usino i loro talenti.
MARIA	Eppure sarai impiccato per essere stato via tanto a lungo, o sarai cacciato via—non è per te altrettanto buono d’un’impiccagione?
FESTE	Più d’una buona impiccagione previene un cattivo matrimonio; e quanto all’esser cacciato via, che l’estate me lo faccia sopportare.
MARIA	Siete dunque risoluto?
FESTE	Neppure questo; ma sono risolto su due punti.
MARIA	Che se l’uno si rompe, l’altro tiene; o se si rompono entrambi, vi cascano le brache.
FESTE	Azzeccato, in buona fede, molto azzeccato. Bene, va’ per la tua strada. Se ser Toby smettesse di bere, tu saresti un pezzo di carne d’Eva spiritoso quanto ogni altro in Illiria.
MARIA	Zitto, furfante, basta con questo. Ecco venire la mia signora. Fareste meglio a scusarvi con giudizio.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entra Olivia, con Malvolio e servitori
(didascalia)	FESTE a parte Ingegno, se è tua volontà, mettimi su buon piede! Quegli ingegni che credono di possederti si rivelano assai spesso sciocchi, e io che son certo di mancarne posso passare per uomo saggio. Ché, che dice Quinapalo?—«Meglio uno sciocco spiritoso che uno spirito sciocco.» (A Olivia) Dio ti benedica, signora.
OLIVIA	(ai servitori) Portate via il buffone.
FESTE	Non sentite, gente? Portate via la signora.
OLIVIA	Suvvia, sei un buffone arido. Non ne voglio più sapere di te. Per giunta, diventi disonesto.
FESTE	Due difetti, madonna, che il bere e il buon consiglio emenderanno: ché date da bere allo sciocco arido, e allora lo sciocco non è più arido; dite al disonesto d’emendarsi: se s’emenda, non è più disonesto; se non può, che lo rappezzi il rattoppatore. Tutto ciò che è emendato non è che rappezzato. La virtù che trasgredisce non è che rappezzata di peccato, e il peccato che s’emenda non è che rappezzato di virtù. Se questo semplice sillogismo può servire, sta bene. Se non serve, che rimedio c’è? Come non v’è vero cornuto se non la calamità, così la bellezza è un fiore. La signora ha ordinato di portar via il buffone, perciò dico di nuovo: portate via lei.
OLIVIA	Signore, ho ordinato loro di portar via voi.
FESTE	Equivoco del più alto grado! Signora, «Cucullus non facit monachum»—che è quanto dire: non porto il variopinto nel cervello. Buona madonna, datemi licenza di provare che siete una sciocca.
OLIVIA	Sapete farlo?
FESTE	Destramente, buona madonna.
OLIVIA	Fatene la prova.
FESTE	Debbo catechizzarvi per questo, madonna. Mio buon topolino di virtù, rispondetemi.
OLIVIA	Bene, signore, in mancanza d’altro ozio sopporterò la vostra prova.
FESTE	Buona madonna, perché sei in lutto?
OLIVIA	Buon buffone, per la morte di mio fratello.
FESTE	Credo che la sua anima sia all’inferno, madonna.
OLIVIA	So che la sua anima è in cielo, buffone.
FESTE	Tanto più sciocca, madonna, a portare il lutto per l’anima di vostro fratello, che è in cielo. Portate via la sciocca, signori.
OLIVIA	Che ne pensate di questo buffone, Malvolio? Non va forse migliorando?
MALVOLIO	Sì, e continuerà finché le doglie della morte non lo scuoteranno. L’infermità, che rovina i saggi, rende sempre migliore lo sciocco.
FESTE	Dio vi mandi, signore, una rapida infermità per meglio accrescere la vostra follia. Ser Toby giurerà che io non sono una volpe, ma non impegnerebbe la sua parola per due soldi che voi non siate uno sciocco.
OLIVIA	Che ne dite a questo, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Mi meraviglio che vostra signoria si diletti d’un tal furfante sterile. L’altro giorno l’ho visto sconfitto da uno sciocco comune che non ha più cervello d’una pietra. Guardate ora, è già rimasto senza difesa. Se non ridete e non gli porgete occasione, resta imbavagliato. Protesto che questi uomini saggi che tanto schiamazzano dietro a questa sorta di sciocchi patentati non li stimo migliori dei buffoni degli sciocchi.
OLIVIA	Oh, siete malato d’amore di voi stesso, Malvolio, e gustate con appetito guasto. Essere generosi, senza colpa e di libera disposizione vuol dire prendere per frecce da uccelli quelle che voi giudicate palle di cannone. Non c’è calunnia in un buffone patentato, benché non faccia altro che inveire; né v’è inveire in un uomo notoriamente discreto, benché non faccia altro che riprendere.
FESTE	Ora Mercurio ti doti di menzogna, ché parli bene degli sciocchi.
(didascalia)	Entra Maria
MARIA	Madonna, alla porta c’è un giovane gentiluomo che desidera molto parlare con voi.
OLIVIA	Da parte del Conte Orsino, non è vero?
MARIA	Non lo so, madonna. È un bel giovane, e ben accompagnato.
OLIVIA	Chi della mia gente lo trattiene?
MARIA	Ser Toby, madonna, vostro parente.
OLIVIA	Allontanatelo, vi prego, non parla che da pazzo. Vergogna su di lui. Andate voi, Malvolio. Se è una supplica da parte del Conte, io sono malata, o non sono in casa—quel che volete, per congedarla. Esce Malvolio Ora vedete, signore, come le vostre buffonerie invecchiano, e la gente non le gradisce.
FESTE	Hai parlato in nostro favore, madonna, come se il tuo figlio maggiore dovesse essere uno sciocco; e che Giove gli stipi il cranio di cervello, ché—eccolo che viene—
(didascalia)	Entra ser Toby
FESTE	uno dei tuoi parenti ha una pia mater assai debole.
OLIVIA	Sul mio onore, mezzo ubriaco. Chi è alla porta, cugino?
SER TOBY	Un gentiluomo.
OLIVIA	Un gentiluomo? Quale gentiluomo?
SER TOBY	C’è un gentiluomo qui. (Rutta) Peste a queste aringhe sott’aceto! (A Feste) Ebbene, ubriacone?
FESTE	Buon ser Toby.
OLIVIA	Cugino, cugino, come vi siete preso così presto questa letargia?
SER TOBY	Lussuria? Sfido la lussuria. C’è uno alla porta. OLIVIA Sì, perbacco, chi è?
SER TOBY	Sia pure il diavolo, se vuole, non me ne curo. Datemi la fede, dico io. Bene, è tutt’uno.
(didascalia)	Esce
OLIVIA	A che somiglia un ubriaco, buffone?
FESTE	A un annegato, a uno sciocco e a un pazzo—un sorso oltre il caldo lo fa sciocco, il secondo lo fa pazzo, e il terzo lo annega.
OLIVIA	Va’ a cercare il magistrato delle inchieste, e che faccia l’inchiesta su mio cugino, ché è al terzo grado del bere: è annegato. Va’ a badare a lui.
FESTE	Non è ancora che pazzo, madonna, e lo sciocco baderà al pazzo.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entra Malvolio
MALVOLIO	Madonna, quel giovanotto giura che parlerà con voi. Gli ho detto che eravate malata—pretende di capirlo, e perciò viene a parlare con voi. Gli ho detto che dormivate—sembra averne pure una preconoscenza, e perciò viene a parlare con voi. Che gli si deve dire, signora? È fortificato contro ogni diniego.
OLIVIA	Ditegli che non parlerà con me.
MALVOLIO	Gliel’hanno detto, e lui dice che starà alla vostra porta come il palo d’uno sceriffo, e farà da sostegno a una panca, ma parlerà con voi.
OLIVIA	Che sorta d’uomo è?
MALVOCIO	Ebbene, del genere umano.
OLIVIA	Di che maniera d’uomo?
MALVOLIO	Di pessima maniera: parlerà con voi, che vogliate o no.
OLIVIA	Di che aspetto e di che anni è?
MALVOLIO	Non ancora abbastanza vecchio per un uomo, né abbastanza giovane per un ragazzo; come un baccello prima d’essere pisello, o una mela acerba quando è quasi mela. È con lui come l’acqua ferma, fra il ragazzo e l’uomo. Ha lineamenti assai ben fatti, e parla in modo assai stizzoso. Si direbbe che il latte materno gli sia appena uscito di bocca.
OLIVIA	Che si avvicini. Chiamate la mia damigella.
MALVOLIO	Damigella, la mia signora chiama.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entra Maria
OLIVIA	Datemi il mio velo. Su, gettatelo sul mio volto. Udremo ancora una volta l’ambasciata d’Orsino.
(didascalia)	Entra Viola come Cesario
VIOLA	L’onorevole signora di questa casa, qual è?
OLIVIA	Parlate a me, risponderò per lei. Che volete?
VIOLA	Radiosissima, squisita e impareggiabile bellezza. —Vi prego, ditemi se questa è la signora della casa, ché non l’ho mai veduta. Mi spiacerebbe gettar via il mio discorso, poiché, oltre a essere eccellentemente ben composto, mi son dato gran pena a impararlo a memoria. Buone bellezze, non fatemi patire scherno; sono assai sensibile, anche al minimo trattamento maligno.
OLIVIA	Donde venite, signore?
VIOLA	Poco posso dire oltre a quel che ho studiato, e quella domanda è fuori della mia parte. Buona e gentile creatura, datemi modesta assicurazione che siete voi la signora della casa, affinché io possa procedere nel mio discorso.
OLIVIA	Siete un commediante?
VIOLA	No, mio profondo cuore; e tuttavia—per le zanne stesse della malizia lo giuro—non sono ciò che recito. Siete voi la signora della casa?
OLIVIA	Se non usurpo me stessa, lo sono.
VIOLA	Certissimamente, se siete lei, usurpate voi stessa; ché ciò che è vostro da donare non è vostro da riservare. Ma questo esula dal mio incarico. Proseguirò col mio discorso in vostra lode, e poi vi mostrerò il cuore del mio messaggio.
OLIVIA	Venite a ciò che v’è d’importante, vi condono la lode.
VIOLA	Ahimè, mi son dato gran pena a studiarla, ed è poetica.
OLIVIA	Tanto più è probabile che sia finta; vi prego, tenetevela. Ho udito che eravate insolente alle mie porte, e ho permesso il vostro accesso più per stupirmi di voi che per udirvi. Se non siete pazzo, andatevene. Se avete senno, siate breve. Non è per me quel tempo di luna da prender parte a un dialogo così saltellante.
MARIA	Volete issare le vele, signore? Ecco la vostra strada.
VIOLA	No, buon mozzo, debbo restare alla cappa ancora un poco. (A Olivia) Un po’ di calmante per il vostro gigante, dolce signora. Ditemi il vostro pensiero: sono un messaggero.
OLIVIA	Certo, avete qualche orribile faccenda da riferire, se la cortesia di essa è tanto spaventosa. Dite il vostro ufficio.
VIOLA	Riguarda il vostro orecchio soltanto. Non porto proposta di guerra, né imposizione d’omaggio. Tengo l’ulivo in mano. Le mie parole son piene di pace quanto di sostanza.
OLIVIA	Eppure avete cominciato rozzamente. Chi siete? Che volete?
VIOLA	La rozzezza che è apparsa in me l’ho appresa dall’accoglienza ricevuta. Ciò che sono e ciò che voglio sono segreti come la verginità; alle vostre orecchie, teologia; a quelle d’altri, profanazione.
(didascalia)	OLIVIA (a Maria e ai servitori) Lasciateci soli, udremo questa teologia.
(didascalia)	Escono Maria e i servitori
VIOLA	Ora, signore, qual è il vostro testo?
VIOLA	Dolcissima signora—
OLIVIA	Dottrina confortante, e molto se ne può dire. Dove si trova il vostro testo?
VIOLA	Nel petto d’Orsino.
OLIVIA	Nel suo petto? In quale capitolo del suo petto?
VIOLA	Per rispondere col metodo, nel primo del suo cuore.
OLIVIA	Oh, l’ho letto. È eresia. Non avete altro da dire?
VIOLA	Buona madonna, lasciatemi vedere il vostro volto.
OLIVIA	Avete qualche incarico dal vostro signore di negoziare col mio volto? Ora siete fuori dal vostro testo. Ma tireremo la tenda e vi mostreremo il quadro. Si toglie il velo Guardate, signore, tale io ero in questo presente. Non è ben fatto?
VIOLA	Eccellentemente fatto, se Dio fece tutto.
OLIVIA	È tinta in grana, signore, resisterà al vento e alle intemperie.
VIOLA	È bellezza veracemente mescolata, il cui rosso e bianco la dolce e astuta mano della Natura stessa vi pose. Signora, siete la più crudele che viva se condurrete queste grazie alla tomba senza lasciare al mondo copia alcuna.
OLIVIA	Oh signore, non sarò così dura di cuore. Farò rilasciare diversi inventari della mia bellezza. Sarà inventariata e ogni particella e utensile etichettato nel mio testamento: come, item, due labbra, discretamente rosse; item, due occhi grigi, con relative palpebre; item, un collo, un mento, e così via. Foste mandato qui per lodarmi?
VIOLA	Vedo bene ciò che siete: siete troppo orgogliosa, ma foste pure il diavolo, siete bella. Il mio signore e padrone vi ama. Oh, tale amore non potrebbe che essere ricompensato, foste pure incoronata l’impareggiabile fra le bellezze.
OLIVIA	Come mi ama?
VIOLA	Con adorazioni, con feconde lacrime, con gemiti che tuonano amore, con sospiri di fuoco.
OLIVIA	Il vostro signore conosce il mio pensiero: non posso amarlo. Pure lo suppongo virtuoso, lo so nobile, di grande stato, di fresca e immacolata giovinezza, ben divulgato dalle voci, libero, dotto e valoroso, e nella statura e nella forma di natura persona graziosa; eppure non posso amarlo. Poteva avere la sua risposta già da tempo.
VIOLA	Se io vi amassi con l’ardore del mio padrone, con tale sofferenza, con tale mortale vita, nel vostro rifiuto non troverei alcun senso, non lo comprenderei.
OLIVIA	Ebbene, che fareste?
VIOLA	Mi farei una capanna di salice alla vostra porta e chiamerei la mia anima dentro la casa; scriverei leali canzoni d’amore disprezzato, e le canterei forte perfino nel cuore della notte; griderei il vostro nome ai colli riecheggianti, e farei sì che la ciarliera pettegola dell’aria gridasse «Olivia!». Oh, non avreste riposo fra gli elementi dell’aria e della terra senza aver pietà di me.
OLIVIA	Potreste far molto. Qual è il vostro lignaggio?
VIOLA	Al di sopra delle mie fortune, pure il mio stato è buono. Sono un gentiluomo.
OLIVIA	Tornate dal vostro signore. Non posso amarlo. Non mandi più nessuno, a meno che, per caso, voi non torniate da me a dirmi come la prende. State bene. Vi ringrazio per il vostro disturbo. (Offrendogli una borsa) Spendete questo per me.
VIOLA	Non sono un messo prezzolato, signora. Tenete la vostra borsa. È il mio padrone, non io, a mancare di ricompensa. Amore faccia di selce il cuore di colui che amerete, e il vostro fervore, come quello del mio padrone, sia posto in dispregio. Addio, bella crudeltà. Esce
OLIVIA	«Qual è il vostro lignaggio?» «Al di sopra delle mie fortune, pure il mio stato è buono. Sono un gentiluomo.» Lo giurerei che tu lo sei. La tua lingua, il tuo volto, le tue membra, i gesti e lo spirito ti danno cinque volte il blasone. Non troppo in fretta. Piano, piano— a meno che il padrone non fosse il servo. Che avviene? Si può prendere la peste così in fretta? Mi par di sentire le perfezioni di questo giovane con un’invisibile e sottile furtività insinuarsi dentro i miei occhi. Bene, sia pure. Olà, Malvolio.
(didascalia)	Entra Malvolio
MALVOLIO	Eccomi, madonna, al vostro servizio.
OLIVIA	Corri dietro a quel petulante messaggero, l’uomo del Conte. Ha lasciato qui questo anello, volessi io o no. Digli che non ne voglio sapere. Pregalo di non lusingare il suo signore, né di sostenerlo con speranze. Non faccio per lui. Se il giovane vorrà passare di qui domani, gliene darò le ragioni. Affrettati, Malvolio.
MALVOLIO	Madonna, così farò.
(didascalia)	Esce da una porta
OLIVIA	Faccio non so che cosa, e temo di trovare il mio occhio troppo grande adulatore per la mia mente. Fato, mostra la tua forza. Noi stessi non ci apparteniamo. Ciò che è decretato dev’essere; e sia questo così.
(didascalia)	Esce da un’altra porta

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Antonio and Sebastian
ANTONIO	Will you stay no longer, nor will you not that I go with you?
SEBASTIAN	By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me. The malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours, therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.
ANTONIO	Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.
SEBASTIAN	No, sooth, sir. My determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in. Therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My father was that Sebastian of Messaline whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended. But you, sir, altered that, for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned.
ANTONIO	Alas the day!
SEBASTIAN	A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful. But though I could not with such estimable wonder over-far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her: she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.
ANTONIO	Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
SEBASTIAN	O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
ANTONIO	If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.
SEBASTIAN	If you will not undo what you have done—that is, kill him whom you have recovered—desire it not. Fare ye well at once. My bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino’s court. Farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
ANTONIO	The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino’s court, Else would I very shortly see thee there. But come what may, I do adore thee so That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Antonio e Sebastiano
ANTONIO	Non volete restare più a lungo, né volete che io venga con voi?
SEBASTIANO	Con vostra licenza, no. Le mie stelle splendono oscure sopra di me. La malignità del mio destino potrebbe forse turbare il vostro; perciò vi chiederò il permesso di portare i miei mali da solo. Sarebbe una mala ricompensa al vostro affetto scaricarne alcuno su di voi.
ANTONIO	Fatemi almeno sapere dove siete diretto.
SEBASTIANO	No, in verità, signore. Il viaggio che ho stabilito è pura vagabondaggine. Ma scorgo in voi un tratto di modestia così eccellente che non vorrete estorcermi ciò che io intendo tacere. Perciò la buona creanza mi obbliga tanto più a rivelarmi. Dovete dunque sapere di me, Antonio, che il mio nome è Sebastiano, mentre mi facevo chiamare Roderigo. Mio padre fu quel Sebastiano di Messalina di cui so che avete sentito parlare. Lasciò dietro di sé me e una sorella, entrambi nati in una stessa ora. Se al cielo fosse piaciuto, così avessimo anche finito. Ma voi, signore, mutaste ciò: perché un’ora circa prima che voi mi traeste dalla furia del mare, mia sorella era annegata.
ANTONIO	Ahimè, che giorno!
SEBASTIANO	Una fanciulla, signore, che pure si diceva mi rassomigliasse molto, era tuttavia da molti reputata bella. Ma per quanto io non potessi con tanto pregevole stupore credervi troppo oltre, fino a questo punto oserò proclamarla: portava in sé un animo che l’invidia stessa non poteva non chiamare bello. È già annegata, signore, nell’acqua salata, benché io paia annegarne di nuovo il ricordo con altra ancora.
ANTONIO	Perdonatemi, signore, la mala accoglienza.
SEBASTIANO	Oh buon Antonio, perdonatemi voi il disturbo.
ANTONIO	Se non volete uccidermi per il mio affetto, lasciate che io sia vostro servitore.
SEBASTIANO	Se non volete disfare ciò che avete fatto—cioè uccidere colui che avete salvato—non lo desiderate. State bene, e sia subito. Il mio petto è colmo di tenerezza, e sono ancora tanto vicino ai modi di mia madre che alla minima occasione i miei occhi racconteranno di me. Sono diretto alla corte del Conte Orsino. Addio.
(didascalia)	Esce
ANTONIO	La benignità di tutti gli dèi t’accompagni! Ho molti nemici alla corte d’Orsino, altrimenti fra brevissimo ti vedrei laggiù. Ma accada quel che accada, io t’adoro tanto che il pericolo mi parrà gioco, e andrò. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Viola as Cesario, and Malvolio, at several doors
MALVOLIO	Were not you ev’n now with the Countess Olivia?
VIOLA	Even now, sir, on a moderate pace, I have since arrived but hither.
MALVOLIO	(offering a ring) She returns this ring to you, sir. You might have saved me my pains to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him. And one thing more: that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord’s taking of this. Receive it so.
VIOLA	She took the ring of me. I’ll none of it.
MALVOLIO	Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her, and her will is it should be so returned. He throws the ring down If it be worth stooping for, there it lies, in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. Exit
VIOLA	(picking up the ring) I left no ring with her. What means this lady? Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her. She made good view of me, indeed so much That straight methought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts, distractedly. She loves me, sure. The cunning of her passion Invites me in this churlish messenger. None of my lord’s ring! Why, he sent her none. I am the man. If it be so—as ’tis— Poor lady, she were better love a dream! Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper false In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms! Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we, For such as we are made of, such we be. How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly, And I, poor monster, fond as much on him, And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my master’s love. As I am woman, now, alas the day, What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t’untie. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Viola come Cesario, e Malvolio, da porte diverse
MALVOLIO	Non eravate voi or ora dalla contessa Olivia?
VIOLA	Or ora, signore; a passo moderato, da allora non sono giunto che fin qui.
MALVOLIO	(offrendogli un anello) Ella vi restituisce questo anello, signore. Avreste potuto risparmiarmi la fatica portandovelo via voi stesso. Aggiunge, inoltre, che dovreste dare al vostro signore la disperata certezza che ella non ne vuol sapere di lui. E un’altra cosa: che non siate mai tanto temerario da tornare per i suoi affari, se non per riferire come il vostro signore abbia preso la cosa. Ricevetelo dunque così.
VIOLA	Fu lei a prendere l’anello da me. Non ne voglio sapere.
MALVOLIO	Suvvia, signore, gliel’avete gettato con petulanza, ed è sua volontà che vi sia restituito allo stesso modo. Getta a terra l’anello Se val la pena di chinarsi a raccoglierlo, eccolo lì, sotto i vostri occhi; se no, sia di chi lo trova. Esce
VIOLA	(raccogliendo l’anello) Non ho lasciato alcun anello con lei. Che intende questa dama? La sorte non voglia che il mio aspetto l’abbia stregata. Mi guardò ben bene, e davvero tanto che subito mi parve che i suoi occhi le avessero smarrito la lingua, ché parlava a scatti, distrattamente. Mi ama, di certo. L’astuzia della sua passione mi invita per mezzo di questo rozzo messaggero. Niente anello del mio signore! Ma se non gliene ha mandato alcuno. Sono io l’uomo. Se è così—com’è— povera dama, meglio le sarebbe amare un sogno! Travestimento, io vedo che sei una malvagità in cui il fecondo nemico opera assai. Com’è facile ai belli e falsi imprimere le loro forme nei cerei cuori delle donne! Ahimè, la nostra fragilità n’è la causa, non noi, ché quali siamo fatte, tali siamo. Come andrà a finire? Il mio padrone l’ama teneramente, e io, povero mostro, altrettanto smanio per lui, ed ella, ingannata, par che stravveda per me. Che sarà di tutto questo? In quanto sono uomo, il mio stato è disperato per l’amore del mio padrone. In quanto sono donna, ora, ahimè che giorno, quali sospiri infruttuosi esalerà la povera Olivia! Oh tempo, tocca a te districare questo, non a me. È un nodo troppo duro perché io lo sciolga. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew
SIR TOBY	Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after midnight is to be up betimes, and diliculo surgere, thou knowest.
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 unfilled 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 lives 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Feste, the clown
SIR ANDREW	Here comes the fool, i’faith.
FESTE	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. ‘Twas very good, i’faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman. Hadst it?
FESTE	I did impeticos thy gratility; 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	(to Feste) Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let’s have a song.
SIR ANDREW	(to Feste) There’s a testril of me, too. If one knight give a—
FESTE	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.
FESTE	(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.
FESTE	What is love? ’Tis 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	An you love me, let’s do’t. I am dog at a catch.
FESTE	By’r Lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
SIR ANDREW	Most certain. Let our catch be ‘Thou knave’.
FESTE	‘Hold thy peace, thou knave’, knight. I shall be constrained in’t to call thee knave, knight.
SIR ANDREW	‘Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool. It begins ‘Hold thy peace’.
FESTE	I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
SIR ANDREW	Good, i’faith. Come, begin. They sing the catch.
(didascalia)	Enter Maria
MARIA	What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.
SIR TOBY	My lady’s a Cathayan, we are politicians, Malvolio’s a Peg-o‘-Ramsey, and ‘hree merry men be we’. Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally—‘lady’! ‘There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.’
FESTE	Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable fooling.
SIR ANDREW	Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I, too. He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.
SIR TOBY	‘O’the twelfth day of December’—
MARIA	For the love o’ God, peace.
(didascalia)	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 kinsman she’s nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours you are welcome to the house. If not, an 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.
FESTE	‘His eyes do show his days are almost done.’
MALVOLIO	Is’t even so?
SIR TOBY	‘But I will never die.’
FESTE	‘Sir Toby, there you lie.’
MALVOLIO	This is much credit to you.
SIR TOBY	‘Shall I bid him go?’
FESTE	‘What an if you do?’
SIR TOBY	‘Shall I bid him go, and spare not?’
FESTE	‘O no, no, no, no, you dare not.’
SIR TOBY	Out o’ tune, sir, ye lie. (To Malvolio) Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?
FESTE	Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i’th’ mouth, too.
SIR TOBY	Thou‘rt i’th’ right. (To Malvolio) Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. (To Maria) A stoup of wine, Maria.
MALVOLIO	Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favour at anything 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	’Twere 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 tonight. Since the youth of the Count’s was today 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 dev’l a puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass that cons state without book and utters it by great swathes; the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, 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, ’twill 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 adored 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, ’tis too late to go to bed now. Come knight, come knight. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano ser Toby e ser Andrew
SER TOBY	Avvicinati, ser Andrew. Non essere a letto dopo la mezzanotte è essere alzati per tempo; e diliculo surgere, tu lo sai.
SER ANDREW	No, in fede mia, non lo so; ma so che essere alzati tardi è essere alzati tardi.
SER TOBY	Falsa conclusione. La detesto come un boccale vuoto. Essere alzati dopo la mezzanotte e allora andare a letto è presto; sicché andare a letto dopo la mezzanotte è andare a letto per tempo. Non consistono forse le nostre vite dei quattro elementi?
SER ANDREW	In fede mia, così dicono; ma io credo che consista piuttosto nel mangiare e nel bere.
SER TOBY	Sei un dotto; mangiamo dunque e beviamo. Marianna, dico, un boccale di vino.
(didascalia)	Entra Feste, il buffone
SER ANDREW	Ecco venire il buffone, in fede mia.
FESTE	Ebbene, cuori miei. Non avete mai visto il quadro dei «noi tre»?
SER TOBY	Benvenuto, asino. Ora facciamoci una canzone a canone.
SER ANDREW	In fede mia, il buffone ha un’eccellente ugola. Darei quaranta scellini per avere una gamba simile, e un fiato così dolce nel cantare, come li ha il buffone. In verità, eri in vena di graziosissime buffonerie la scorsa notte, quando parlavi di Pigrogromito, dei Vapiani che passano l’equinoziale di Queubus. Era davvero ottima cosa, in fede mia. Ti mandai sei pence per la tua bella. Li avesti?
FESTE	Impetticciai la tua gratilità; ché il naso di Malvolio non è un manico di frusta. La mia signora ha una mano bianca, e i Mirmidoni non sono osterie da birra.
SER ANDREW	Eccellente! Ecco, questa è la miglior buffoneria, a conti fatti. Ora una canzone.
SER TOBY	(a Feste) Su, ecco sei pence per te. Facciamoci una canzone.
SER ANDREW	(a Feste) C’è un testone anche da parte mia. Se un cavaliere dà un—
FESTE	Volete una canzone d’amore, o una canzone di buona vita?
SER TOBY	Una canzone d’amore, una canzone d’amore.
SER ANDREW	Sì, sì. Della buona vita non m’importa.
FESTE	(canta) Oh signora mia, dove vai errando? Oh fermati e ascolta, il tuo vero amore sta venendo, colui che sa cantare acuto e grave. Non andar oltre, mia graziosa dolcezza. I viaggi finiscono nell’incontro degli innamorati, ogni figlio di saggio lo sa bene.
SER ANDREW	Eccellente davvero, in fede mia.
SER TOBY	Bene, bene.
FESTE	Che cos’è l’amore? Non è nell’avvenire, l’allegrezza presente ha presente il riso. Ciò che verrà è sempre incerto. Nell’indugio non c’è abbondanza, vieni dunque a baciarmi, dolce e ventenne. La giovinezza è stoffa che non dura.
SER ANDREW	Una voce melliflua, com’è vero che son cavaliere.
SER TOBY	Un fiato contagioso.
SER ANDREW	Assai dolce e contagioso, in fede mia.
SER TOBY	A udirlo col naso, è dolce nel contagio. Ma vogliamo far davvero danzare la volta celeste? Vogliamo destare la civetta della notte con un canone che tragga tre anime da un solo tessitore? Facciamolo?
SER ANDREW	Se mi volete bene, facciamolo. Sono un cane nei canoni.
FESTE	Per la Madonna, signore, e certi cani acchiappano bene.
SER ANDREW	Certissimo. Sia il nostro canone «Tu, furfante».
FESTE	«Taci, tu furfante», cavaliere. Vi sarò costretto a chiamarvi furfante, cavaliere.
SER ANDREW	Non è la prima volta che costringo qualcuno a chiamarmi furfante. Comincia, buffone. Comincia con «Taci».
FESTE	Non comincerò mai, se taccio.
SER ANDREW	Bene, in fede mia. Su, comincia. Cantano il canone.
(didascalia)	Entra Maria
MARIA	Che baccano da gatti fate qui! Se la mia signora non ha già svegliato il suo maggiordomo Malvolio e non gli ha ordinato di sbattervi fuori dalla porta, non fidatevi mai più di me.
SER TOBY	La mia signora è una cataina, noi siamo uomini di stato, Malvolio è un Peg-o’-Ramsey, e «tre uomini allegri siam noi». Non sono forse consanguineo? Non sono forse del suo sangue? Tarantella—«signora»! «Viveva un uomo a Babilonia, signora, signora.»
FESTE	Che io sia maledetto, il cavaliere è in ammirevole vena di buffonerie.
SER ANDREW	Sì, se la si prende, se la cava abbastanza bene, e così pure io. Lui lo fa con miglior grazia, ma io lo faccio più naturalmente.
SER TOBY	«Il dodicesimo giorno di dicembre»—
MARIA	Per l’amor di Dio, silenzio.
(didascalia)	Entra Malvolio
MALVOLIO	Signori miei, siete impazziti? O che cosa siete? Non avete senno, creanza, né onestà, da schiamazzare come calderai a quest’ora di notte? Fate forse una bettola della casa della mia signora, da strillare i vostri canoni da ciabattini senza alcuna attenuazione o riguardo di voce? Non c’è in voi rispetto di luogo, di persone, né di tempo?
SER TOBY	Il tempo l’abbiamo tenuto, signore, nei nostri canoni. Impiccati!
MALVOLIO	Ser Toby, debbo essere schietto con voi. La mia signora m’ha ordinato di dirvi che, benché vi ospiti come suo parente, ella non ha nulla a che fare con i vostri disordini. Se sapete separare voi stesso dai vostri misfatti, siete il benvenuto nella casa. Se no, e vi piacesse prendere congedo da lei, ella è ben disposta a darvi l’addio.
SER TOBY	«Addio, caro cuore, poiché debbo andarmene.»
MARIA	No, buon ser Toby.
FESTE	«I suoi occhi mostrano che i suoi giorni son quasi finiti.»
MALVOLIO	È proprio così?
SER TOBY	«Ma io non morirò mai.»
FESTE	«Ser Toby, qui mentite.»
MALVOLIO	Questo vi fa molto onore.
SER TOBY	«Devo dirgli d’andarsene?»
FESTE	«E se anche lo faceste?»
SER TOBY	«Devo dirgli d’andarsene, senza risparmio?»
FESTE	«Oh no, no, no, no, non osate.»
SER TOBY	Stonato, signore, voi mentite. (A Malvolio) Sei forse qualcosa di più d’un maggiordomo? Credi che, perché sei virtuoso, non ci saranno più focacce e birra?
FESTE	Sì, per sant’Anna, e anche lo zenzero sarà pungente in bocca.
SER TOBY	Hai ragione. (A Malvolio) Andate, signore, a lustrarvi la catena con le briciole. (A Maria) Un boccale di vino, Maria.
MALVOLIO	Madonna Maria, se apprezzaste il favore della mia signora in qualcosa più che disprezzo, non dareste modo a questa incivile sregolatezza. Ella lo saprà, per questa mano. Esce
MARIA	Andate a scuotervi le orecchie.
SER ANDREW	Sarebbe buona azione quanto bere quando si ha fame sfidarlo in campo e poi mancargli di parola, e farne un babbeo.
SER TOBY	Fallo, cavaliere. Ti scriverò io una sfida, o gli recherò a voce la tua indignazione.
MARIA	Dolce ser Toby, siate paziente per stanotte. Da quando il giovane del Conte è stato oggi con la mia signora, ella è assai fuori di quiete. Quanto a monsieur Malvolio, lasciate fare a me sola. Se non lo canzono fino a farne un proverbio e uno spasso comune, non crediate che io abbia senno abbastanza per stendermi dritta nel mio letto. So che posso farlo.
SER TOBY	Mettici a parte, mettici a parte, dicci qualcosa di lui.
MARIA	Perbacco, signore, talvolta è una specie di puritano.
SER ANDREW	Oh, se lo credessi, lo bastonerei come un cane.
SER TOBY	Come, perché è puritano? La tua squisita ragione, caro cavaliere.
SER ANDREW	Non ho una squisita ragione, ma ho ragione abbastanza buona.
MARIA	Puritano un corno, e nient’altro costantemente se non un adulatore del tempo, un asino affettato che impara a memoria il contegno e lo sciorina a grandi falcate; il più convinto di sé, così zeppo, come crede, d’eccellenze, che è suo fondamento di fede che tutti quelli che lo guardano lo amino; e su quel suo vizio la mia vendetta troverà notevole materia su cui operare.
SER TOBY	Che farai?
MARIA	Lascerò cadere sul suo cammino certe oscure epistole d’amore, nelle quali, dal colore della barba, dalla forma della gamba, dal modo dell’andatura, dall’espressione dell’occhio, della fronte e della carnagione, egli si troverà ritratto in modo assai toccante. So scrivere in modo molto simile alla mia signora, vostra nipote: su una cosa dimenticata, a stento sappiamo distinguere le nostre mani.
SER TOBY	Eccellente, fiuto una macchinazione.
SER ANDREW	L’ho anch’io nel naso.
SER TOBY	Egli penserà, dalle lettere che lascerai cadere, che vengano da mia nipote, e che ella sia innamorata di lui.
MARIA	Il mio disegno è appunto un cavallo di quel colore.
SER ANDREW	E il vostro cavallo ne farà ora un asino.
MARIA	Asino non ne dubito.
SER ANDREW	Oh, sarà ammirevole.
MARIA	Spasso regale, ve lo garantisco. So che la mia medicina farà effetto su di lui. Vi piazzerò tutti e due—e che il buffone faccia il terzo—là dove egli troverà la lettera. Osservate l’interpretazione che ne darà. Per questa notte, a letto, e sognate l’evento. Addio. Esce
SER TOBY	Buona notte, Pentesilea.
SER ANDREW	Quant’è vero me, è una brava ragazza.
SER TOBY	È un bracchetto di pura razza, e una che m’adora. E con ciò?
SER ANDREW	Anch’io fui adorato una volta.
SER TOBY	Andiamo a letto, cavaliere. Avrai bisogno di mandare a prendere altro denaro.
SER ANDREW	Se non riesco a conquistare vostra nipote, sono malamente rovinato.
SER TOBY	Manda a prendere denaro, cavaliere. Se non l’avrai alla fine, chiamami castrone.
SER ANDREW	Se non lo faccio, non fidatevi mai più di me, prendetela come volete.
SER TOBY	Su, su, andrò a scaldare un po’ di vin secco, è troppo tardi per andare a letto ormai. Vieni cavaliere, vieni cavaliere. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke, Viola as Cesario, Curio, and others
ORSINO	Give me some music. Now good morrow, friends. Now good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antic song we heard last night. Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times. Come, but one verse.
CURIO	He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.
ORSINO	Who was it?
CURIO	Feste the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia’s father took much delight in. He is about the house.
ORSINO	Seek him out, and play the tune the while. Exit Curio
(didascalia)	Music plays
ORSINO	(To Viola) Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it remember me; For such as I am, all true lovers are, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else Save in the constant image of the creature That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
VIOLA	It gives a very echo to the seat Where love is throned.
ORSINO	Thou dost speak masterly. My life upon’t, young though thou art thine eye Hath stayed upon some favour that it loves. Hath it not, boy?
VIOLA	A little, by your favour.
ORSINO	What kind of woman is’t?
VIOLA	Of your complexion.
ORSINO	She is not worth thee then. What years, i’faith?
VIOLA	About your years, my lord.
ORSINO	Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take An elder than herself. So wears she to him; So sways she level in her husband’s heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women’s are.
VIOLA	I think it well, my lord.
ORSINO	Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent; For women are as roses, whose fair flower Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
VIOLA	And so they are. Alas that they are so: To die even when they to perfection grow.
(didascalia)	Enter Curio and Feste the clown
ORSINO	(to Feste) O fellow, come, the song we had last night. Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain. The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
FESTE	Are you ready, sir?
ORSINO	I prithee, sing.
(didascalia)	Music
FESTE	(sings) Come away, come away death, And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fie away, fie away breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O prepare it. My part of death no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet On my black coffin let there be strewn. Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me O where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there.
DUKE	(giving money) There’s for thy pains.
FESTE	No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.
ORSINO	I’ll pay thy pleasure then.
FESTE	Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.
ORSINO	Give me now leave to leave thee.
FESTE	Now the melancholy god protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere, for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. Exit
ORSINO	Let all the rest give place: Exeunt Curio and others Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yon same sovereign cruelty. Tell her my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands. The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her Tell her I hold as giddily as fortune; But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems That nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
VIOLA	But if she cannot love you, sir?
ORSINO	I cannot be so answered.
VIOLA	Sooth, but you must. Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her. You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
ORSINO	There is no woman’s sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart; no woman’s heart So big, to hold so much. They lack retention. Alas, their love may be called appetite, No motion of the liver, but the palate, That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt. But mine is all as hungry as the sea, And can digest as much. Make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me And that I owe Olivia.
VIOLA	Ay, but I know—
ORSINO	What dost thou know?
VIOLA	Too well what love women to men may owe. In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter loved a man As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman I should your lordship.
ORSINO	And what’s her history?
VIOLA	A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i’th’ bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more, but indeed Our shows are more than will; for still we prove Much in our vows, but little in our love.
ORSINO	But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
VIOLA	I am all the daughters of my father’s house, And all the brothers too; and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this lady?
ORSINO	Ay, that’s the theme, To her in haste. Give her this jewel. Say My love can give no place, bide no denay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Duca, Viola come Cesario, Curio e altri
ORSINO	Datemi un po’ di musica. Or dunque buon giorno, amici. Ora, buon Cesario, solo quel pezzo di canzone, quell’antica e vetusta canzone che udimmo la scorsa notte. Mi parve che alleviasse molto la mia passione, più delle arie leggere e delle frasi studiate di questi tempi vivaci e dal passo vertiginoso. Su, una sola strofa.
CURIO	Non è qui, con licenza di vostra signoria, colui che dovrebbe cantarla.
ORSINO	Chi era?
CURIO	Feste il giullare, mio signore, un buffone di cui il padre di madonna Olivia si dilettava molto. È qui per la casa.
ORSINO	Cercalo, e intanto si suoni l’aria. Esce Curio
(didascalia)	Suona la musica
ORSINO	(A Viola) Vieni qua, ragazzo. Se mai tu amerai, nei dolci spasimi dell’amore ricordati di me; ché tale quale io sono, tali sono tutti i veri innamorati, instabili e volubili in ogni altro moto salvo che nell’immagine costante della creatura che è amata. Come ti piace quest’aria?
VIOLA	Rende un’eco fedele alla sede dove l’amore siede in trono.
ORSINO	Parli da maestro. Ne va la mia vita: per giovane che tu sia, il tuo occhio s’è fermato su qualche volto che ama. Non è vero, ragazzo?
VIOLA	Un poco, con vostra licenza.
ORSINO	Che sorta di donna è?
VIOLA	Della vostra carnagione.
ORSINO	Non è degna di te, allora. Che anni, in fede mia?
VIOLA	Su per giù i vostri anni, mio signore.
ORSINO	Troppo vecchia, per il cielo. Prenda sempre la donna uno più vecchio di lei. Così ella s’adatta a lui; così si mantiene salda nel cuore del marito. Ché, ragazzo, per quanto noi ci lodiamo, i nostri capricci sono più vertiginosi e malfermi, più bramosi, incostanti, più presto perduti e logori, di quelli delle donne.
VIOLA	Lo credo bene, mio signore.
ORSINO	Sia dunque il tuo amore più giovane di te, o il tuo affetto non potrà reggere alla tensione; ché le donne sono come rose, il cui bel fiore, una volta dischiuso, cade in quella stessa ora.
VIOLA	E così sono. Ahimè che siano tali: morire proprio quando giungono a perfezione.
(didascalia)	Entrano Curio e Feste il buffone
ORSINO	(a Feste) Oh amico, vieni, la canzone che udimmo la scorsa notte. Notala bene, Cesario: è antica e semplice. Le filatrici e le lavoranti a maglia al sole, e le fanciulle libere che tessono il loro filo coi fuselli, sogliono cantarla. È candida verità, e scherza con l’innocenza dell’amore, come l’antico tempo.
FESTE	Siete pronto, signore?
ORSINO	Ti prego, canta.
(didascalia)	Musica
FESTE	(canta) Vieni, oh vieni, morte, e in mesto cipresso lasciami deporre. Va’ via, va’ via, respiro, son ucciso da una bella crudele fanciulla. Il mio sudario bianco, tutto trapunto di tasso, oh preparatelo. La mia parte di morte nessuno così fedele l’ha mai divisa. Non un fiore, non un dolce fiore sia sparso sulla mia nera bara. Non un amico, non un amico saluti il mio povero corpo, dove saran gettate le mie ossa. Per risparmiare mille e mille sospiri, deponetemi oh là dove nessun triste e fedele amante trovi la mia tomba, per piangervi.
DUCA	(dandogli del denaro) Ecco per la tua fatica.
FESTE	Nessuna fatica, signore. Provo piacere a cantare, signore.
ORSINO	Pagherò allora il tuo piacere.
FESTE	In verità, signore, e il piacere si paga, prima o poi.
ORSINO	Dammi ora licenza di lasciarti.
FESTE	Ora il dio della malinconia ti protegga, e il sarto ti faccia il farsetto di taffetà cangiante, ché la tua mente è un vero opale. Vorrei che gli uomini di tale costanza fossero messi in mare, sicché i loro affari fossero ogni cosa e le loro intenzioni dappertutto; ché è questo che fa sempre di nulla un buon viaggio. Addio. Esce
ORSINO	Tutti gli altri lascino il luogo: Escono Curio e gli altri Ancora una volta, Cesario, recati da quella medesima sovrana crudeltà. Dille che il mio amore, più nobile del mondo, non fa conto di quantità di sporche terre. Le parti che la fortuna le ha concesso dille che io le stimo vertiginose quanto la fortuna; ma è quel miracolo e regina delle gemme di cui la natura l’adorna che attrae la mia anima.
VIOLA	Ma se ella non può amarvi, signore?
ORSINO	Non posso ricevere tale risposta.
VIOLA	In verità, dovete. Poniamo che qualche dama, come forse v’è, abbia per il vostro amore uno spasimo di cuore altrettanto grande quanto quello che voi avete per Olivia. Voi non potete amarla. Voi glielo dite. Non deve forse allora ricevere risposta?
ORSINO	Non v’è fianco di donna che possa sostenere il battito d’una passione così forte come quella che l’amore dà al mio cuore; né cuore di donna così grande da contenerne tanto. Manca loro capienza. Ahimè, il loro amore si può chiamare appetito, non moto del fegato, ma del palato, che soffre sazietà, nausea e rigetto. Ma il mio è tutto affamato quanto il mare, e altrettanto può digerire. Non fare paragone fra quell’amore che una donna può portarmi e quello che io devo a Olivia.
VIOLA	Sì, ma io so—
ORSINO	Che cosa sai?
VIOLA	Troppo bene quale amore le donne possano dovere agli uomini. In fede, esse sono fedeli di cuore quanto noi. Mio padre ebbe una figlia che amò un uomo come potrebbe darsi, forse, se io fossi donna, che amassi vostra signoria.
ORSINO	E qual è la sua storia?
VIOLA	Un foglio bianco, mio signore. Ella non disse mai il suo amore, ma lasciò che il segreto, come un verme nel bocciolo, le rodesse la guancia di damasco. Si consumò nel pensiero, e con una verde e gialla malinconia sedeva come la pazienza su un monumento, sorridendo al dolore. Non era questo amore davvero? Noi uomini possiamo dire di più, giurare di più; ma in verità le nostre apparenze superano la volontà, ché sempre ci mostriamo molti nei voti, ma pochi nell’amore.
ORSINO	Ma morì tua sorella del suo amore, ragazzo mio?
VIOLA	Io sono tutte le figlie della casa di mio padre, e tutti i fratelli pure; eppure non so. Signore, devo andare da questa dama?
ORSINO	Sì, questo è il tema: da lei in fretta. Dalle questo gioiello. Dille che il mio amore non può cedere il posto, né sopportare rifiuto.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
SIR TOBY	Come thy ways, Signor 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?
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.
(didascalia)	Enter Maria with a letter
SIR TOBY	Here comes the little villain. How now, my metal 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 behaviour to his own shadow this half-hour. Observe him, 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. Maria places the letter Lie thou there, for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	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 anyone else that follows her. What should I think on’t?
SIR TOBY	Here’s an overweening rogue.
FABIAN	O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkeycock of him—how he jets under his advanced plumes!
SIR ANDREW	’Slight, I could so beat the rogue.
SIR TOBY	Peace, I say.
MALVOLIO	To be Count Malvolio!
SIR TOBY	Ah, rogue.
SIR ANDREW	Pistol him, pistol him.
SIR TOBY	Peace, peace.
MALVOLIO	There is example for’t: the Lady of the Strachey 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.
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 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, 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—(touching his chain) some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to me.
SIR TOBY	Shall this fellow live?
FABIAN	Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.
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.
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.’
SIR ANDREW	I knew ’twas I, for many do call me fool.
MALVOLIO	(seeing the letter) What employment have we here? FABIAN Now is the woodcock near the gin.
SIR TOBY	O peace, and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him.
MALVOLIO	(taking up the letter) 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! (Opening the letter) 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	‘Jove knows I love, But who? Lips do not move, No man must know.’ ‘No man must know.’ What follows? The numbers altered. ‘No man must know.’ If this should be thee, Malvolio?
SIR TOBY	Marry, hang thee, brock.
MALVOLIO	‘I may command where I adore, But silence like a Lucrece knife With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore.
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. 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 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.’
SIR TOBY	O ay, make up that, he is now at a cold scent.
FABIAN	Sowter will cry upon’t for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.
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.
FABIAN	And ‘O’ shall end, I hope.
SIR TOBY	Ay, or I’ll cudgel him, and make him cry ‘O!’
MALVOLIO	And then ‘I’ comes behind.
FABIAN	Ay, an you had any eye behind you you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.
MALVOLIO	‘M.O.A.I.’ This simulation is not as the former; and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft, here follows prose: ‘If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ’em. Thy fates open their hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants. Let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity. She thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered. I say remember, go to, thou art made if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, The Fortunate-Unhappy.’ Daylight and champaign discovers not more. This is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-device the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg, being cross-gartered, and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised. Here is yet a postscript. ‘Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.’ Jove, I thank thee. I will smile, I will do everything that thou wilt have me.
(didascalia)	Exit
MALVOLIO	Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian come from hiding
FABIAN	I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
SIR TOBY	I could marry this wench for this device.
SIR ANDREW	So could I, too.
SIR TOBY	And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.
(didascalia)	Enter Maria
SIR ANDREW	Nor I neither.
FABIAN	Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
SIR TOBY	(to Maria) Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck?
SIR ANDREW	(to Maria) Or o’ mine either?
SIR TOBY	(to Maria) Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bondslave?
SIR ANDREW	(to Maria) I’faith, or I either?
SIR TOBY	(to Maria) Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.
MARIA	Nay, but say true, does it work upon him?
SIR TOBY	Like aqua vitae with a midwife.
MARIA	If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady. He will come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me.
SIR TOBY	To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit.
SIR ANDREW	I’ll make one, too. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano ser Toby, ser Andrew e Fabiano
SER TOBY	Vieni pure avanti, signor Fabiano.
FABIANO	Sì che vengo. Se perdo uno scrupolo di questo spasso, che io sia bollito a morte nella malinconia.
SER TOBY	Non saresti lieto di veder quel gretto e furfante mordi-pecore incappare in qualche notevole vergogna?
FABIANO	Esulterei, amico. Sapete che mi fece perdere il favore della mia signora per via d’una caccia all’orso qui.
SER TOBY	Per farlo arrabbiare avremo di nuovo l’orso, e lo faremo beffare fino a farlo nero e livido, non è vero, ser Andrew?
SER ANDREW	Se non lo facciamo, peccato per le nostre vite.
(didascalia)	Entra Maria con una lettera
SER TOBY	Ecco venire la piccola scellerata. Ebbene, mio metallo d’India?
MARIA	Cacciatevi tutti e tre nel bosso. Malvolio sta scendendo per questo viale. È stato laggiù al sole per una mezz’ora a esercitare il contegno davanti alla propria ombra. Osservatelo, per l’amor della beffa, ché so che questa lettera ne farà un idiota contemplativo. Nascosti, in nome dello scherzo! Gli uomini si nascondono. Maria depone la lettera Giaci tu lì, ché ecco venire la trota che va presa col solletico.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entra Malvolio
MALVOLIO	Non è che fortuna, tutto è fortuna. Maria mi disse una volta che ella nutriva inclinazione per me, e le ho udito arrivare a dire quasi altrettanto: che, se dovesse innamorarsi, sarebbe d’uno della mia carnagione. Per giunta, mi tratta con un rispetto più elevato che chiunque altro dei suoi. Che debbo pensarne?
SER TOBY	Ecco un furfante presuntuoso.
FABIANO	Oh, silenzio! La contemplazione ne fa un raro tacchino—come si pavoneggia sotto le penne rizzate!
SER ANDREW	Perdio, potrei bastonarlo, quel furfante.
SER TOBY	Silenzio, dico.
MALVOLIO	Essere il conte Malvolio!
SER TOBY	Ah, furfante.
SER ANDREW	Sparategli, sparategli.
SER TOBY	Silenzio, silenzio.
MALVOLIO	Ce n’è l’esempio: la dama degli Strachey sposò il guardarobiere.
SER ANDREW	Vergogna su di lui, Jezabele.
FABIANO	Oh silenzio, ora c’è dentro fino al collo. Guardate come l’immaginazione lo gonfia.
MALVOLIO	Sposato con lei da tre mesi, seduto nel mio seggio di stato—
SER TOBY	Oh, una balestra da sassi per colpirlo in un occhio!
MALVOLIO	Chiamando i miei ufficiali intorno a me, nella mia veste di velluto a rami, uscito allora da un letto di riposo dove ho lasciato Olivia addormentata—
SER TOBY	Fuoco e zolfo!
FABIANO	Oh silenzio, silenzio.
MALVOLIO	E poi assumere l’umore dell’autorità e—dopo un contegnoso giro di sguardo, dicendo loro che conosco il mio posto, come vorrei che essi conoscessero il loro—domandare del mio parente Toby.
SER TOBY	Ceppi e catene!
FABIANO	Oh silenzio, silenzio, silenzio, ora, ora.
MALVOLIO	Sette dei miei uomini con obbediente scatto corrono a cercarlo. Io intanto aggrotto la fronte, e forse carico il mio orologio, o gioco con il mio—(toccandosi la catena) qualche ricco gioiello. Toby s’avvicina; là mi fa la riverenza.
SER TOBY	Dovrà vivere, costui?
FABIANO	Anche se il nostro silenzio ci fosse strappato coi carri da tiro, silenzio.
MALVOLIO	Gli tendo la mano così, spegnendo il mio sorriso familiare con un austero sguardo di comando—
SER TOBY	E allora Toby non vi assesta un colpo sulle labbra?
MALVOLIO	Dicendo: «Cugino Toby, le mie fortune, avendomi gettato su vostra nipote, mi danno questa prerogativa di parola»—
SER TOBY	Che, che!
MALVOLIO	«Dovete emendare la vostra ubriachezza.»
SER TOBY	Fuori di qui, rogna.
FABIANO	Suvvia, pazienza, o spezziamo i nervi della nostra trama.
MALVOLIO	«Per giunta, sprecate il tesoro del vostro tempo con un cavaliere sciocco»—
SER ANDREW	Quello sono io, ve lo garantisco.
MALVOLIO	«Un certo ser Andrew.»
SER ANDREW	Sapevo che ero io, ché molti mi chiamano sciocco.
MALVOLIO	(vedendo la lettera) Che faccenda abbiamo qui? FABIANO Ora la beccaccia è vicina al laccio.
SER TOBY	Oh silenzio, e lo spirito degli umori gli suggerisca di leggere ad alta voce.
MALVOLIO	(raccogliendo la lettera) Sulla mia vita, questa è la mano della mia signora. Queste sono proprio le sue c, le sue u e le sue t, e così fa le sue grandi P. È fuori di questione la sua mano.
SER ANDREW	Le sue c, le sue u e le sue t? Perché mai?
MALVOLIO	(legge) «All’ignoto amato, questo, e i miei buoni auguri.» Proprio le sue frasi! (Aprendo la lettera) Con permesso, cera—piano, e l’impronta è la sua Lucrezia, con cui suole sigillare—è la mia signora. A chi sarà indirizzata?
FABIANO	Questo lo conquista, fegato e tutto.
MALVOLIO	«Giove sa che io amo, ma chi? Labbra, non vi muovete, nessuno deve sapere.» «Nessuno deve sapere.» Che segue? Il metro è mutato. «Nessuno deve sapere.» Se questo fossi tu, Malvolio?
SER TOBY	Perbacco, che tu sia impiccato, tasso.
MALVOLIO	«Io posso comandare là dove adoro, ma il silenzio, come un coltello di Lucrezia, con colpo esangue mi trafigge il cuore.
M.O.A.I.	governa la mia vita.»
FABIANO	Un indovinello ampolloso.
SER TOBY	Ragazza eccellente, dico io.
MALVOLIO	«M.O.A.I. governa la mia vita.» Suvvia, ma prima fammi vedere, fammi vedere, fammi vedere. FABIANO Che piatto di veleno gli ha ammannito!
SER TOBY	E con che ala il falchetto ci si getta sopra!
MALVOLIO	«Io posso comandare là dove adoro.» Ebbene, ella può comandarmi. Io la servo, ella è la mia signora. Ecco, questo è evidente a ogni normale capacità. Non c’è ostacolo in questo. E la fine—che potrà mai significare quella disposizione alfabetica? Se potessi far sì che rassomigliasse a qualcosa di me. Piano—«M.O.A.I.»
SER TOBY	Oh sì, mettici mano, ora è su una pista fredda.
FABIANO	Sowter abbaierà lo stesso, per quanto la traccia sia rancida come una volpe.
MALVOLIO	«M.» Malvolio—«M»—ma ecco, così comincia il mio nome.
FABIANO	Non dicevo che ci sarebbe arrivato? Il bastardo è eccellente sulle piste false.
MALVOLIO	«M» Ma poi non c’è consonanza in ciò che segue. Questo non regge alla prova. Dovrebbe seguire una «A», e invece viene una «O».
FABIANO	E in «O» finirà, lo spero.
SER TOBY	Sì, o lo bastonerò e gli farò gridare «O!».
MALVOLIO	E poi viene dietro una «I».
FABIANO	Già, e se aveste un occhio dietro, vedreste più derisione alle vostre calcagna che fortune davanti a voi.
MALVOLIO	«M.O.A.I.» Questa dissimulazione non è come la precedente; eppure, a forzarla un poco, si piegherebbe a me, ché ognuna di queste lettere è nel mio nome. Piano, qui segue della prosa: «Se questo cade nella tua mano, meditalo. Nelle mie stelle io sono al di sopra di te, ma non temere la grandezza. Alcuni nascono grandi, alcuni conquistano la grandezza, e ad alcuni la grandezza è gettata addosso. I tuoi fati aprono le mani: che il tuo sangue e il tuo spirito le abbraccino; e per avvezzarti a ciò che è probabile tu divenga, getta la tua umile spoglia, e appari nuovo. Sii ostile con un parente, arcigno coi servi. Che la tua lingua faccia risuonare argomenti di stato; assumi l’aria della singolarità. Così ti consiglia colei che sospira per te. Ricorda chi lodò le tue calze gialle, e desiderò vederti sempre con le giarrettiere incrociate. Ricorda, dico, suvvia: tu sei fatto, se desideri esserlo; se no, che io ti veda ancora maggiordomo, il compagno dei servi, e non degno di toccare le dita della Fortuna. Addio. Colei che vorrebbe scambiare i servizi con te, La Fortunata-Infelice.» La luce del giorno e la campagna aperta non rivelano di più. Questo è chiaro. Sarò orgoglioso, leggerò autori politici, confonderò ser Toby, mi laverò via le rozze conoscenze, sarò con esattezza proprio quell’uomo. Ora non m’inganno, né lascio che l’immaginazione mi mena per il naso; ché ogni ragione porta a questo: che la mia signora mi ama. Lodò di recente le mie calze gialle, lodò la mia gamba, con le giarrettiere incrociate; e in ciò ella si manifesta al mio amore, e con una sorta d’ingiunzione mi spinge a queste fogge di suo gradimento. Ringrazio le mie stelle, sono felice. Sarò scostante, altero, in calze gialle e con le giarrettiere incrociate, con la rapidità stessa dell’indossarle. Siano lodati Giove e le mie stelle. C’è ancora un poscritto. «Non puoi non sapere chi io sia. Se accogli il mio amore, che appaia nel tuo sorriso; i tuoi sorrisi ti stanno bene. Perciò in mia presenza sorridi sempre, mio caro dolce, te ne prego.» Giove, ti ringrazio. Sorriderò, farò tutto ciò che tu vorrai da me.
(didascalia)	Esce
MALVOLIO	Ser Toby, ser Andrew e Fabiano escono dal nascondiglio
FABIANO	Non cederei la mia parte di questo spasso per una pensione di migliaia da pagarsi dal Sofì.
SER TOBY	Potrei sposare questa ragazza per una tale trovata.
SER ANDREW	Anch’io potrei.
SER TOBY	E non chiederle altra dote se non un altro scherzo simile.
(didascalia)	Entra Maria
SER ANDREW	Nemmeno io.
FABIANO	Ecco venire la mia nobile acchiappa-gonzi.
SER TOBY	(a Maria) Vuoi metter il piede sul mio collo?
SER ANDREW	(a Maria) O anche sul mio?
SER TOBY	(a Maria) Devo giocarmi la mia libertà a tre dadi, e diventare tuo schiavo?
SER ANDREW	(a Maria) In fede mia, o anch’io?
SER TOBY	(a Maria) Ma come, tu l’hai messo in un tale sogno che, quando l’immagine di esso lo abbandonerà, dovrà impazzire.
MARIA	Suvvia, ma ditemi il vero: fa effetto su di lui?
SER TOBY	Come l’acquavite su una levatrice.
MARIA	Se dunque volete vedere i frutti dello spasso, osservate la sua prima comparsa davanti alla mia signora. Verrà da lei in calze gialle, ed è un colore che ella aborre, e con le giarrettiere incrociate, una foggia che detesta; e le sorriderà, il che ora sarà così poco confacente alla sua disposizione, dedita com’ella è alla malinconia, che non potrà che volgerlo in notevole disprezzo. Se volete vederlo, seguitemi.
SER TOBY	Fino alle porte del Tartaro, tu eccellentissimo diavolo d’ingegno.
SER ANDREW	Ci sarò anch’io. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Viola as Cesario and Feste the clown, with pipe and tabor
VIOLA	Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by thy tabor?
FESTE	No, sir, I live by the church.
VIOLA	Art thou a churchman?
FESTE	No such matter, sir. I do live by the church for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
VIOLA	So thou mayst say the king lies by a beggar if a beggar dwell near him, or the church stands by thy tabor if thy tabor stand by the church.
FESTE	You have said, sir. To see this age!—A sentence is but a cheverel glove to a good wit, how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward.
VIOLA	Nay, that’s certain. They that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
FESTE	I would therefore my sister had had no name, sir.
VIOLA	Why, man?
FESTE	Why, sir, her name’s a word, and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton. But indeed, words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.
VIOLA	Thy reason, man?
FESTE	Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false I am loath to prove reason with them.
VIOLA	I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.
FESTE	Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you. If that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
VIOLA	Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s fool?
FESTE	No indeed, sir, the Lady Olivia has no folly, she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married, and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings—the husband’s the bigger. I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words.
VIOLA	I saw thee late at the Count Orsino’s.
FESTE	Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress. I think I saw your wisdom there.
VIOLA	Nay, an thou pass upon me, I’ll no more with thee. (Giving money) Hold, there’s expenses for thee.
FESTE	Now Jove in his next commodity of hair send thee a beard.
VIOLA	By my troth I’ll tell thee, I am almost sick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?
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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia, and Maria, her gentlewoman
VIOLA	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
(didascalia)	severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Viola come Cesario e Feste il buffone, con piffero e tamburello
VIOLA	Dio ti salvi, amico, e la tua musica. Vivi tu del tuo tamburello?
FESTE	No, signore, io vivo presso la chiesa.
VIOLA	Sei tu un uomo di chiesa?
FESTE	Nulla di simile, signore. Vivo presso la chiesa perché vivo nella mia casa, e la mia casa sta presso la chiesa.
VIOLA	Così potresti dire che il re giace presso un mendicante, se un mendicante abita vicino a lui; o che la chiesa sta presso il tuo tamburello, se il tuo tamburello sta presso la chiesa.
FESTE	L’avete detto, signore. A vedere quest’epoca!—Una frase non è che un guanto di capretto per un buono ingegno: com’è presto voltato il rovescio all’infuori.
VIOLA	Certo, questo è vero. Quelli che scherzano troppo finemente con le parole possono presto renderle sfrontate.
FESTE	Vorrei perciò che mia sorella non avesse avuto nome, signore.
VIOLA	Perché, amico?
FESTE	Ebbene, signore, il suo nome è una parola, e scherzare con quella parola potrebbe rendere sfrontata mia sorella. Ma davvero le parole sono grandi furfanti, da quando le obbligazioni le hanno disonorate.
VIOLA	La tua ragione, amico?
FESTE	In verità, signore, non ve ne posso dare alcuna senza parole; e le parole sono divenute così false che mi ripugna provare con esse la ragione.
VIOLA	Scommetto che sei un tipo allegro, e che non t’importa di nulla.
FESTE	Non è così, signore: qualcosa m’importa; ma in coscienza, signore, di voi non m’importa. Se questo è non curarsi di nulla, signore, vorrei che ciò vi rendesse invisibile.
VIOLA	Non sei tu il buffone di madonna Olivia?
FESTE	No davvero, signore: madonna Olivia non ha follia, non terrà buffone, signore, finché non sia maritata; e i buffoni somigliano ai mariti come le sardine alle aringhe—il marito è il più grosso. Non sono davvero il suo buffone, ma il suo corruttore di parole.
VIOLA	Ti ho visto di recente in casa del conte Orsino.
FESTE	La follia, signore, gira per il globo come il sole: splende dappertutto. Mi dispiacerebbe, signore, che il buffone non fosse tanto spesso dal vostro padrone quanto dalla mia padrona. Mi pare d’avervi visto laggiù, vostra saggezza.
VIOLA	Suvvia, se cominci a farmi lo spirito addosso, non voglio più aver che fare con te. (Dandogli del denaro) Tieni, ecco per le tue spese.
FESTE	Ora Giove, alla sua prossima partita di peli, ti mandi una barba.
VIOLA	In fede mia te lo dirò: ne sono quasi malato dal desiderio, benché non vorrei che mi crescesse sul mento. È in casa la tua signora?
FESTE	Un paio di queste non figlierebbero, signore?
VIOLA	Sì, se tenute insieme e messe a frutto.
FESTE	Farei volentieri il signor Pandaro di Frigia, signore, per portare una Cressida a questo Troilo.
VIOLA	(dandogli del denaro) Vi capisco, signore, è ben mendicato.
FESTE	La cosa, spero, non è grave, signore: mendicare non è che una mendicante—Cressida fu una mendicante. La mia signora è in casa, signore. Spiegherò loro donde venite. Chi siete e che volete son cose fuori del mio cielo—potrei dire «elemento», ma la parola è troppo logora. Esce
VIOLA	Costui è abbastanza saggio da fare il buffone, e per farlo bene occorre una sorta d’ingegno. Deve osservare l’umore di coloro di cui si burla, la qualità delle persone, e il momento, e, come il falcone selvatico, gettarsi su ogni penna che gli passa davanti agli occhi. È un mestiere faticoso quanto l’arte d’un uomo saggio, ché la follia ch’egli saggiamente mostra è a proposito, mentre i saggi, caduti in follia, guastano del tutto il loro ingegno.
(didascalia)	Entrano ser Toby e ser Andrew
SER TOBY	Dio vi salvi, gentiluomo.
VIOLA	E voi, signore.
SER ANDREW	Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
VIOLA	Et vous aussi, votre serviteur.
SER ANDREW	Lo spero, signore, che voi lo siate; e io sono il vostro.
SER TOBY	Volete affrontare la casa? Mia nipote desidera che entriate, se il vostro commercio è con lei.
VIOLA	Sono diretto a vostra nipote, signore: voglio dire ch’ella è la meta del mio viaggio.
SER TOBY	Assaggiate le vostre gambe, signore, mettetele in moto.
VIOLA	Le mie gambe mi sostengono meglio, signore, di quanto io comprenda che cosa intendiate dicendomi d’assaggiare le mie gambe.
SER TOBY	Intendo andare, signore, entrare.
VIOLA	Vi risponderò con l’andatura e con l’entrata.
(didascalia)	Entrano Olivia e Maria, la sua damigella
VIOLA	Ma siamo prevenuti. (A Olivia) Eccellentissima e compita signora, il cielo piova profumi su di voi.
SER ANDREW	(a ser Toby) Quel giovane è un raro cortigiano; «piova profumi»—bene.
VIOLA	La mia faccenda non ha voce, signora, se non per il vostro orecchio ricettivo e concesso.
SER ANDREW	(a ser Toby) «Profumi», «ricettivo» e «concesso»—me li terrò pronti tutti e tre.
OLIVIA	Si chiuda la porta del giardino, e lasciatemi alla mia udienza. Escono ser Toby, ser Andrew e Maria Datemi la vostra mano, signore.
VIOLA	Il mio dovere, madonna, e umilissimo servizio.
OLIVIA	Qual è il vostro nome?
VIOLA	Cesario è il nome del vostro servo, bella principessa.
OLIVIA	Mio servo, signore? Non fu mai lieto il mondo da quando la bassa finzione si chiamò cortesia. Voi siete servo del conte Orsino, giovane.
VIOLA	Ed egli è vostro, e ciò ch’è suo dev’essere vostro. Il servo del vostro servo è vostro servo, madonna.
OLIVIA	Quanto a lui, non ci penso. Quanto ai suoi pensieri, fossero fogli bianchi, piuttosto che colmi di me.
VIOLA	Madonna, vengo ad aguzzare i vostri gentili pensieri in suo favore.
OLIVIA	Oh, con vostra licenza, ve ne prego. Vi dissi di non parlarmi mai più di lui; ma se voleste intraprendere un’altra supplica, preferirei udir voi sollecitarla che la musica delle sfere.
VIOLA	Cara signora—
OLIVIA	Datemi licenza, ve ne supplico. Io mandai, dopo l’ultimo incantesimo che qui operaste, un anello dietro a voi. Così ingannai me stessa, il mio servo, e temo anche voi. Sotto la vostra dura interpretazione debbo starmene, per avervi imposto con vergognosa astuzia ciò che sapevate non esser vostro. Che potreste pensare? Non avete forse messo al palo il mio onore e non l’avete aizzato con tutti i pensieri senza museruola che un cuore tirannico possa concepire? A uno della vostra percezione s’è mostrato abbastanza. Un velo di cipro, non un petto, nasconde il mio cuore. Fatemi dunque udire la vostra voce.
VIOLA	Vi compiango.
OLIVIA	Questo è un grado verso l’amore.
VIOLA	No, neppure un gradino, ché è prova comune che assai spesso compiangiamo i nemici.
OLIVIA	Ebbene, mi pare che sia tempo di sorridere di nuovo. O mondo, come sono pronti i poveri a insuperbirsi! Se si dev’essere preda, quanto è meglio cadere davanti al leone che davanti al lupo! Batte l’orologio L’orologio mi rimprovera lo spreco del tempo. Non temete, buon giovane, non vi voglio; eppure, quando ingegno e giovinezza saranno maturi, vostra moglie mieterà probabilmente un bell’uomo. Ecco la vostra strada, dritta a ponente.
VIOLA	E allora, verso ponente! Grazia e buona disposizione accompagnino vostra signoria. Nulla, madonna, per il mio signore, tramite me?
OLIVIA	Fermatevi. Vi prego, ditemi che cosa pensate di me.
VIOLA	Che voi pensate di non essere ciò che siete.
OLIVIA	Se lo penso, penso lo stesso di voi.
VIOLA	Allora pensate giusto: io non sono ciò che sono.
OLIVIA	Vorrei che foste quale io vorrei che foste.
VIOLA	Sarebbe meglio, madonna, di ciò che sono? Vorrei che lo fosse, ché ora sono il vostro zimbello.
OLIVIA	(a parte) Oh, quanta bellezza ha lo sdegno nel disprezzo e nella collera del suo labbro! Una colpa d’omicidio non si palesa più presto dell’amore che vorrebbe restar celato. La notte dell’amore è mezzogiorno. (A Viola) Cesario, per le rose di primavera, per la verginità, l’onore, la verità e ogni cosa, io ti amo tanto che, malgrado tutto il tuo orgoglio, né ingegno né ragione può celare la mia passione. Non estorcere le tue ragioni da questa clausola: che, poiché io corteggio, tu non abbia ragione di farlo. Ma piuttosto incatena ragione con ragione: amore cercato è buono, ma dato senza cercarlo è migliore.
VIOLA	Per l’innocenza lo giuro, e per la mia giovinezza, io ho un solo cuore, un solo petto e una sola verità, e nessuna donna li possiede, né mai alcuna ne sarà padrona, tranne io sola. E così addio, buona madonna. Mai più verrò a deplorare presso di voi le lacrime del mio padrone.
OLIVIA	Tornate però ancora, ché forse potreste muovere quel cuore che ora aborre, a gradire il suo amore.
(didascalia)	Escono
(didascalia)	separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
SIR ANDREW	No, faith, I’ll 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 Count’s servingman than ever she bestowed upon me. I saw’t 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 oaths of judgement 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, 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 lady’s opinion, where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s beard unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.
SIR ANDREW	An’t 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 Count’s youth to fight with him, hurt him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man’s 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 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 ‘thou’st’ 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, 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	We’ll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.
(didascalia)	Exit Sir Andrew
FABIAN	This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.
SIR TOBY	I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong or so.
FABIAN	We shall have a rare letter from him; but you’ll not deliver’t.
SIR TOBY	Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wain-ropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of th’anatomy.
FABIAN	And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.
(didascalia)	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 me. Yon 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. He’s 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 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, he’ll smile, and take’t for a great favour.
SIR TOBY	Come bring us, bring us where he is. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Ser Toby, Ser Andrew e Fabiano
SER ANDREW	No, in fede mia, non resterò un attimo di più.
SER TOBY	La tua ragione, caro veleno, dammi la tua ragione.
FABIANO	Dovete pur addurre la vostra ragione, Ser Andrew.
SER ANDREW	Perbacco, ho visto vostra nipote far più favori al servitore del Conte di quanti ne abbia mai concessi a me. L’ho visto nel frutteto.
SER TOBY	E lei ti vide, in quel mentre, vecchio mio? Dimmi questo.
SER ANDREW	Chiaro come vedo voi ora.
FABIANO	Questa era una gran prova d’amore in lei verso di voi.
SER ANDREW	Per la luce di Dio, volete fare di me un asino?
FABIANO	Ve lo proverò legittimo, signore, sui giuramenti del giudizio e della ragione.
SER TOBY	E costoro sono stati giurati di gran giurì da prima che Noè fosse marinaio.
FABIANO	Ella mostrò favore al giovane sotto i vostri occhi solo per esasperarvi, per destare il vostro valore da ghiro, per mettervi fuoco nel cuore e zolfo nel fegato. Avreste dovuto allora accostarla, e con qualche eccellente arguzia, fiammante di zecca, avreste dovuto ridurre il giovane al mutismo. Questo ci si attendeva dalla vostra mano, e questo è stato mancato. La doppia doratura di quest’occasione l’avete lasciata dilavare dal tempo, e ora siete salpato verso il nord dell’opinione di madonna, dove penderete come un ghiacciolo sulla barba d’un olandese, se non la riscattate con qualche lodevole impresa o di valore o di scaltrezza.
SER ANDREW	Se dev’essere in un modo o nell’altro, sia col valore, ché la scaltrezza io la odio. Preferirei essere un brownista che un politico.
SER TOBY	Ebbene allora, fondami le tue fortune sulla base del valore. Sfidami il giovane del Conte a battersi con lui, feriscilo in undici punti. Mia nipote ne prenderà nota; e sta’ certo, non c’è al mondo sensale d’amore che valga più a raccomandare un uomo presso una donna della fama di valoroso.
FABIANO	Non c’è altra via che questa, Ser Andrew.
SER ANDREW	Vorrà l’uno di voi portargli una mia sfida?
SER TOBY	Va’, scrivila con mano marziale, sii aspro e breve. Non importa quanto arguta, purché sia eloquente e piena d’invenzione. Schernilo con la licenza dell’inchiostro. Se gli dai del «tu» un tre volte, non sarà male, e quante menzogne possono stare nel tuo foglio di carta, quand’anche il foglio fosse grande quanto il letto di Ware, in Inghilterra, mettivele, e va’ a farlo. Ci sia fiele a sufficienza nel tuo inchiostro; e se pure scrivi con penna d’oca, non importa. All’opera.
SER ANDREW	Dove vi troverò?
SER TOBY	Ti chiameremo al cubicolo. Va’.
(didascalia)	Esce Ser Andrew
FABIANO	Costui vi è un caro fantoccio, Ser Toby.
SER TOBY	Io gli sono stato caro, ragazzo, per un duemila forte o giù di lì.
FABIANO	Avremo da lui una lettera rara; ma voi non la consegnerete.
SER TOBY	Non fidatevi più di me, allora; e con ogni mezzo aizzate il giovane a una risposta. Credo che buoi e funi da carro non riuscirebbero a tirarli insieme. Quanto ad Andrew, se lo si aprisse e voi gli trovaste nel fegato tanto sangue da impastoiare il piede d’una pulce, mi mangerò il resto dell’anatomia.
FABIANO	E il suo avversario, il giovane, non porta in volto gran presagio di crudeltà.
(didascalia)	Entra Maria
SER TOBY	Guardate dove viene il più giovane scricciolo di nove.
MARIA	Se desiderate la milza, e volete ridere fino a farvi venire le fitte, seguitemi. Quel gonzo di Malvolio s’è fatto pagano, un vero rinnegato, ché non c’è cristiano che intenda salvarsi credendo rettamente il quale possa mai credere a simili impossibili passi di grossolanità. Porta le calze gialle.
SER TOBY	E le giarrettiere incrociate?
MARIA	Nel modo più scellerato, come un pedante che tiene scuola in chiesa. L’ho pedinato come il suo assassino. Obbedisce a ogni punto della lettera che lasciai cadere per tradirlo. A furia di sorridere il suo viso ha più linee di quante ce ne siano nella nuova carta con l’aggiunta delle Indie. Non avete mai visto cosa simile a quel ch’egli è. Stento a trattenermi dal tirargli addosso qualcosa. So che madonna lo picchierà. E se lo fa, lui sorriderà, e lo prenderà per un gran favore.
SER TOBY	Venite, portateci, portateci dov’è. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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 desire, More sharp than filèd 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 arguments of fear Set forth in your pursuit.
SEBASTIAN	My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks; and ever oft good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. But were my worth as is my conscience firm, You should find better dealing. What’s to do? Shall we go see the relics of 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 you’d pardon me. I do not without danger walk these streets. Once in a sea-fight ‘gainst the Count his galleys I did some service, of such note indeed That were I ta’en here it would scarce be answered.
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 been answered in repaying What we took from them, which for traffic’s sake Most of our city did. Only myself stood out, For which if I be latched in this place I shall pay dear.
SEBASTIAN	Do not then walk too open.
ANTONIO	It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here’s my purse. In the south suburbs at the Elephant 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	I’ll be your purse-bearer, and leave you For an hour.
ANTONIO	To th’ Elephant.
SEBASTIAN	I do remember.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Sebastiano e Antonio
SEBASTIANO	Non vi avrei disturbato di mia volontà, ma poiché fate piacere della vostra fatica non vi rimprovererò oltre.
ANTONIO	Non potevo restare indietro a voi. Il mio desiderio, più tagliente d’acciaio limato, mi spronò innanzi, e non solo l’amore di vedervi—benché fosse tanto da poter trascinare uno a un più lungo viaggio— ma il timore geloso di quel che potesse accadere al vostro viaggio, essendo voi ignaro di queste parti, che a uno straniero, senza guida e senza amici, spesso si rivelano aspre e inospitali. Il mio amore volenteroso, tanto più per questi argomenti di paura, si mise sulle vostre tracce.
SEBASTIANO	Mio buon Antonio, non posso far altra risposta che grazie, e grazie; e spesso i buoni servigi sono liquidati con tale moneta fuori corso. Ma se il mio avere fosse saldo quanto la mia coscienza, trovereste miglior trattamento. Che si fa? Andiamo a veder le reliquie di questa città?
ANTONIO	Domani, signore. Meglio prima andare a veder l’alloggio.
SEBASTIANO	Non sono stanco, e manca molto alla notte. Vi prego, lasciate che appaghiamo i nostri occhi coi monumenti e le cose famose che danno fama a questa città.
ANTONIO	Vorrei che mi perdonaste. Non senza pericolo io percorro queste strade. Un tempo, in una battaglia navale contro le galee del Conte, resi qualche servigio, e di tal fama davvero che se fossi preso qui a stento se ne renderebbe conto.
SEBASTIANO	Forse uccideste gran numero della sua gente.
ANTONIO	L’offesa non è di natura così sanguinosa, benché la qualità del tempo e della contesa avrebbe ben potuto darci sanguinoso argomento. Da allora si sarebbe potuto rimediare restituendo ciò che togliemmo loro, come per amor dei traffici fece la maggior parte della nostra città. Solo io mi tenni fuori, per il che, se sono acciuffato in questo luogo, pagherò caro.
SEBASTIANO	Non andate dunque troppo allo scoperto.
ANTONIO	Non mi conviene. Tenete, signore, ecco la mia borsa. Nei sobborghi a sud, all’Elefante, si alloggia meglio. Io ordinerò il nostro pasto mentre voi ingannate il tempo e nutrite il vostro sapere visitando la città. Là mi troverete.
SEBASTIANO	Perché io la vostra borsa?
ANTONIO	Può darsi che il vostro occhio cada su qualche ninnolo che abbiate desiderio di comprare; e il vostro peculio credo non sia per mercati oziosi, signore.
SEBASTIANO	Sarò il vostro portaborse, e vi lascio per un’ora.
ANTONIO	All’Elefante.
SEBASTIANO	Me ne ricordo.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia and Maria
OLIVIA	(aside) I have sent after him, he says he’ll come. How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed. I speak too loud. (To Maria) Where’s Malvolio? He is sad and civil, 5 And suits well for a servant with my fortunes. Where is Malvolio?
MARIA	He’s coming, madam, but in very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam.
OLIVIA	Why, what’s 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, for sure the man is tainted in’s wits.
OLIVIA	Go call him hither. Exit Maria I am as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be.
(didascalia)	Enter Malvolio, cross-gartered and wearing yellow stockings, with Maria
OLIVIA	How now, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Sweet lady, ho, ho!
OLIVIA	Smil’st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
MALVOLIO	Sad, lady? I could be sad. This does make some obstruction in 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’.
(didascalia)	OLIVIA
MALVOLIO	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 commands shall be executed. I think we do know the sweet roman hand.
OLIVIA	Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	(kissing his hand) To bed? ’Ay, sweetheart, and I’ll 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 appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?
MALVOLIO	‘Be not afraid of greatness’—’twas well writ.
OLIVIA	What meanest 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	‘Thy yellow stockings’?
MALVOLIO	‘And wished to see thee cross-gartered.’
OLIVIA	‘Cross-gartered’?
MALVOLIO	‘Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be so.’
OLIVIA	Am I made?
MALVOLIO	‘If not, let me see thee a servant still.’
OLIVIA	Why, this is very midsummer madness.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
SERVANT	Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino’s is returned. I could hardly entreat him back. He attends your ladyship’s pleasure.
OLIVIA	I’ll come to him. Exit Servant Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where’s 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, severally
MALVOLIO	O ho, do you 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 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 Jove’s doing, and Jove make me thankful. And when she went away now, ‘let this 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 doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
(didascalia)	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 I’ll speak to him.
FABIAN	Here he is, here he is. (To Malvolio) How is’t with you, sir? How is’t 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	Aha, does she so?
SIR TOBY	Go to, go to. Peace, peace, we must deal gently with him. Let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? How is’t with you? What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he’s 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 woman.
MARIA	Marry, and it shall be done tomorrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I’ll 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, 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 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	Is’t possible?
FABIAN	If this were played upon a stage, now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
SIR 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, we’ll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he’s 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Andrew with a paper
FABIAN	More matter for a May morning.
SIR ANDREW	Here’s the challenge, read it. I warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in’t.
FABIAN	Is’t so saucy?
SIR ANDREW	Ay—is’t? 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 call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for’t.’
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.’ 155
FABIAN	Very brief, and to exceeding good sense (aside) -less.
SIR TOBY	‘I will waylay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me’—
FABIAN	Good.
SIR TOBY	‘Thou killest 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 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. I’ll give’t him.
MARIA	You may have very fit occasion for’t. He is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and 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 drawest, 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 have earned him. Away.
SIR ANDREW	Nay, let me alone for swearing.
(didascalia)	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 terror in the youth. He will find it comes from a clodpoll. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek a 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 both that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia, and Viola as Cesario
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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria
OLIVIA	I have said too much unto a heart of stone, And laid mine honour too unchary out. There’s 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 master’s griefs.
OLIVIA	(giving a jewel) Here, wear this jewel for me, ’tis my picture— Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you— And I beseech you come again tomorrow. What shall you ask of me that I’ll deny, That honour, saved, 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 you.
OLIVIA	Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well. A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Fabian
SIR TOBY	Gentleman, God save thee.
VIOLA	And you, sir.
SIR TOBY	That defence thou hast, betake thee to’t. Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not, but thy intercepter, 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 TOBY	You’ll 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 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, give’t or take’t.
VIOLA	I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady. I am 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 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, that’s 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 is. It is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.
SIR TOBY	I will do so. Signor Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. Exit
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.
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 towards him, I will make your peace with him if I can.
(didascalia)	VIOLA I shall be much bound to you for’t. I am one that had rather go with Sir Priest than Sir Knight—I care not who knows so much of my mettle. Exeunt
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew
SIR TOBY	Why, man, he’s a very devil, I have not seen such a virago. 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	Pox on’t, I’ll not meddle with him.
SIR TOBY	Ay, but he will not now be pacified, Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.
SIR ANDREW	Plague on’t, an I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence I’d have seen him damned ere I’d have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip and I’ll give him my horse, grey Capulet.
SIR TOBY	I’ll make the motion. Stand here, make a good show on’t—this shall end without the perdition of souls. (Aside) Marry, I’ll ride your horse as well as I ride you.
(didascalia)	Enter Fabian, and Viola as Cesario
SIR TOBY	[Aside to Fabian] I have his horse to take up the quarrel, I have persuaded him the youth’s a devil.
FABIAN	(aside to Sir Toby) He is as horribly conceited of him, and pants and looks pale as if a bear were at his heels.
SIR TOBY	(to Viola) There’s no remedy, sir, he will fight with you for’s 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 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	(to Sir Andrew) Give ground if you see him furious.
SIR TOBY	Come, Sir Andrew, there’s no remedy, the gentleman will for his honour’s sake have one bout with you, he cannot 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, to’t.
SIR ANDREW	Pray God he keep his oath.
(didascalia)	Enter Antonio
VIOLA	I do assure you ’tis against my will. Sir Andrew and Viola draw their swords
ANTONIO	(drawing his sword, to Sir Andrew) Put up your sword. If this young gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me. If you offend him, I for him defy you.
SIR TOBY	You, sir? Why, what are you?
ANTONIO	One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
SIR TOBY	(drawing his sword) Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.
(didascalia)	Enter Officers
FABIAN	O, good Sir Toby, hold. Here come the officers.
SIR TOBY	(to Antonio) I’ll 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 I’ll be as good as my word. He will bear you easily, and reins well. Sir Andrew and Viola put up their swords
FIRST OFFICER	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 seacap on your head. (To Second Officer) Take him away, he knows I know him well.
ANTONIO	I must obey. (To Viola) This comes with seeking you. But there’s 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 amazed, But be of comfort.
SECOND OFFICER	Come, sir, away.
ANTONIO	(to Viola) I must entreat of you some of that money.
VIOLA	What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have showed me here, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability I’ll lend you something. My having is not much. I’ll make division of my present with you. Hold, (offering money) there’s half my coffer.
ANTONIO	Will you deny me now? Is’t 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, 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 snatched one half out of the jaws of death, Relieved him with such sanctity of love, And to his image, which methought did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
FIRST OFFICER	What’s 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 there’s no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind. Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks o’er-flourished by the devil.
FIRST OFFICER	The man grows mad, away with him. Come, come, sir.
ANTONIO	Lead me on.
(didascalia)	Exit with Officers
VIOLA	(aside) 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 ta’en for you!
SIR TOBY	Come hither, knight. Come hither, Fabian. We’ll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws. They stand aside
VIOLA	He named 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 kind, and salt waves fresh in love! Exit
SIR TOBY	(to Sir Andrew) 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, I’ll after him again, and beat him.
SIR TOBY	Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.
SIR ANDREW	An I do not—
(didascalia)	Exit
FABIAN	Come, let’s see the event.
SIR TOBY	I dare lay any money ’twill be nothing yet.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Olivia e Maria
OLIVIA	(a parte) Ho mandato a cercarlo, dice che verrà. Come lo festeggerò? Che gli donerò? Ché la gioventù si compra più spesso che non la si chieda o la si prenda a prestito. Parlo troppo forte. (A Maria) Dov’è Malvolio? È grave e composto, 5 e s’addice bene come servitore alle mie fortune. Dov’è Malvolio?
MARIA	Sta venendo, madonna, ma in maniera assai strana. È certo posseduto, madonna.
OLIVIA	Come, che c’è? Delira?
MARIA	No, madonna, non fa che sorridere. Sarebbe bene che vostra signoria avesse qualche guardia intorno, se viene, ché di certo l’uomo è guasto nel senno.
OLIVIA	Va’ a chiamarlo qua. Esce Maria Sono pazza quanto lui, se triste e allegra pazzia si equivalgono.
(didascalia)	Entra Malvolio, con le giarrettiere incrociate e le calze gialle, con Maria
OLIVIA	Ebbene, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Dolce signora, ho, ho!
OLIVIA	Sorridi? T’ho mandato a chiamare per una triste occasione.
MALVOLIO	Triste, signora? Potrei essere triste. Fa qualche ostruzione nel sangue, questo incrociare delle giarrettiere, ma che importa? Se piace all’occhio d’una, per me è come dice il verissimo sonetto: «Piaci a una, e piacerai a tutte».
(didascalia)	OLIVIA
MALVOLIO	Come, come stai, uomo? Che cos’hai?
MALVOLIO	Non nero nella mente, benché giallo nelle gambe. Giunse nelle sue mani, e i comandi saranno eseguiti. Credo che si conosca la dolce scrittura romana.
OLIVIA	Vuoi andare a letto, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	(baciandosi la mano) A letto? «Sì, cuor mio, e verrò da te.»
OLIVIA	Dio ti conforti. Perché sorridi così, e ti baci la mano tanto spesso?
MARIA	Come state, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	A vostra richiesta?—sì, gli usignoli rispondono alle cornacchie.
MARIA	Perché comparite con questa ridicola sfrontatezza davanti a madonna?
MALVOLIO	«Non aver paura della grandezza»—era ben scritto.
OLIVIA	Che intendi con ciò, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	«Alcuni nascono grandi»—
OLIVIA	Ah?
MALVOLIO	«Alcuni conquistano la grandezza»—
OLIVIA	Che dici?
MALVOLIO	«E ad alcuni la grandezza è imposta.»
OLIVIA	Il cielo ti risani.
MALVOLIO	«Ricorda chi lodò le tue calze gialle»—
OLIVIA	«Le tue calze gialle»?
MALVOLIO	«E desiderò vederti con le giarrettiere incrociate.»
OLIVIA	«Le giarrettiere incrociate»?
MALVOLIO	«Suvvia, sei fatto, se desideri esserlo.»
OLIVIA	Sono fatta?
MALVOLIO	«Se no, ch’io ti veda servitore ancora.»
OLIVIA	Ebbene, questa è vera pazzia di mezza estate.
(didascalia)	Entra un Servo
SERVO	Madonna, il giovane gentiluomo del Conte Orsino è tornato. A stento son riuscito a ricondurlo. Attende il piacere di vostra signoria.
OLIVIA	Vado da lui. Esce il Servo Buona Maria, si badi a costui. Dov’è mio cugino Toby? Che qualcuno dei miei abbia cura speciale di lui, non vorrei che gli accadesse male per la metà della mia dote. Escono Olivia e Maria, separatamente
MALVOLIO	Oh oh, ci arrivate ora vicino? Nientemeno che Ser Toby a badare a me. Questo concorda direttamente con la lettera, ella lo manda apposta, perché io gli appaia ostinato, ché a ciò m’incita nella lettera. «Getta la tua umile spoglia», dice, «sii contrario con un parente, burbero coi servi, che la tua lingua risuoni di argomenti di stato, mettiti nell’aria della singolarità», e di conseguenza stabilisce la maniera, e cioè un volto grave, un portamento riverendo, una lingua lenta, nell’abito di qualche signore di conto, e via dicendo. L’ho presa al vischio, ma è opera di Giove, e Giove mi renda grato. E quando or ora se n’è andata: «si badi a costui». Costui!—non «Malvolio», né secondo il mio grado, ma «costui». Ecco, ogni cosa si tiene insieme, sicché non un dramma d’uno scrupolo, non uno scrupolo d’uno scrupolo, non un ostacolo, non una circostanza incredula o malsicura—che si può dire?—nulla di ciò che può essere può frapporsi fra me e la piena prospettiva delle mie speranze. Bene, Giove, non io, è l’autore di questo, e lui va ringraziato.
(didascalia)	Entrano Ser Toby, Fabiano e Maria
SER TOBY	Da che parte è, in nome della santità? Se tutti i diavoli dell’inferno fossero raccolti in piccolo, e Legione stesso lo possedesse, pure gli parlerò.
FABIANO	Eccolo, eccolo. (A Malvolio) Come va, signore? Come va, uomo?
MALVOLIO	Andatevene, vi scarto. Lasciate ch’io goda del mio privato. Andatevene.
MARIA	Ecco, come parla cavernoso il demonio dentro di lui. Non ve l’avevo detto? Ser Toby, madonna vi prega d’aver cura di lui.
MALVOLIO	Ahah, fa così?
SER TOBY	Suvvia, suvvia. Pace, pace, dobbiamo trattarlo con dolcezza. Lasciatemi solo. Come state, Malvolio? Come va? Ma via, uomo, sfida il diavolo. Considera, egli è nemico del genere umano.
MALVOLIO	Sapete quel che dite?
MARIA	Ecco a voi, se parlate male del diavolo, come se la prende a cuore. Voglia Dio che non sia stregato.
FABIANO	Portate la sua acqua alla donna saggia.
MARIA	Perbacco, e sarà fatto domattina, s’io vivo. Madonna non lo perderebbe per più di quanto io sappia dire.
MALVOLIO	Ebbene, padroncina?
MARIA	Oh Signore!
SER TOBY	Ti prego, taci, non è questa la via. Non vedi che lo agiti? Lasciatemi solo con lui.
FABIANO	Nessuna via se non la dolcezza, piano, piano. Il demonio è ruvido, e non vuol essere trattato ruvidamente.
SER TOBY	Ebbene, mio galletto? Come stai, pulcino?
MALVOLIO	Signore!
SER TOBY	Sì, pollastrella, vieni con me. Ma via, uomo, non è da persona grave giocare a buche di ciliegia con Satana. Impiccatelo, sudicio carbonaio.
MARIA	Fategli dire le sue preghiere. Buon Ser Toby, fatelo pregare.
MALVOLIO	Le mie preghiere, sfrontatella?
MARIA	No, ve lo garantisco, non vuol sentir parlare di devozione.
MALVOLIO	Andate a impiccarvi, tutti. Siete cose oziose e superficiali, io non sono del vostro elemento. Ne saprete di più in seguito. Esce
SER TOBY	È possibile?
FABIANO	Se questo fosse recitato su una scena, ora, potrei condannarlo come finzione inverosimile.
SER TOBY	Il suo stesso spirito ha preso l’infezione della burla, uomo.
MARIA	No, inseguitelo ora, ché la burla non pigli aria e si guasti.
FABIANO	Ma allora lo faremo impazzire davvero.
MARIA	La casa sarà più tranquilla.
SER TOBY	Venite, lo metteremo in una stanza buia e legato. Mia nipote è già nella convinzione che sia pazzo. Possiamo tirarla avanti così per nostro piacere e sua penitenza, finché il nostro stesso passatempo, sfiatato di stanchezza, non ci induca ad aver pietà di lui, al qual tempo porteremo la burla in tribunale e ti incoroneremo scopritrice di pazzi. Ma guarda, ma guarda.
(didascalia)	Entra Ser Andrew con un foglio
FABIANO	Altra materia per una mattina di maggio.
SER ANDREW	Ecco la sfida, leggetela. Vi garantisco che c’è dentro aceto e pepe.
FABIANO	È così pungente?
SER ANDREW	Sì—e come? Ve lo garantisco. Leggete pure.
SER TOBY	Date qua. (Legge) «Giovane, chiunque tu sia, non sei che un tipo scabbioso.»
FABIANO	Buono, e valoroso.
SER TOBY	«Non meravigliarti, né stupirti in cuor tuo del perché io ti chiami così, ché non te ne mostrerò ragione alcuna.»
FABIANO	Buona nota, quella vi tiene fuori dal colpo della legge.
SER TOBY	«Tu vieni dalla signora Olivia, e sotto i miei occhi ella ti tratta con benevolenza; ma tu menti per la gola, non è questa la ragione per cui ti sfido.» 155
FABIANO	Molto breve, e di eccellente buon senso (a parte) —privo.
SER TOBY	«Ti tenderò agguato mentre torni a casa, dove se ti capiterà d’uccidermi»—
FABIANO	Bene.
SER TOBY	«Tu m’uccidi da furfante e da scellerato.»
FABIANO	Continuate a tenervi dal lato del vento della legge—bene.
SER TOBY	«Sta’ bene, e Dio abbia pietà d’una delle nostre anime. Può darsi ch’egli abbia pietà della mia, ma la mia speranza è migliore, e dunque bada a te. Tuo amico secondo come lo tratti, e tuo giurato nemico, Andrew Aguecheek.» Se questa lettera non lo smuove, le sue gambe non possono. Gliela darò.
MARIA	Potete averne occasione assai adatta. È ora in qualche colloquio con madonna, e fra poco partirà.
SER TOBY	Va’, Ser Andrew. Fammi la spia per lui all’angolo del frutteto come un birro. Appena lo vedi, sguaina, e mentre sguaini, bestemmia orribilmente, ché accade spesso che un giuramento terribile, sparato con accento spaccone e vibrato aspramente, dia alla virilità più approvazione di quanta la prova stessa gliene avrebbe mai guadagnata. Via.
SER ANDREW	No, quanto al bestemmiare, lasciatemi solo.
(didascalia)	Esce
SER TOBY	Ora io non consegnerò la sua lettera, ché il contegno del giovane gentiluomo lo mostra di buona capacità ed educazione. Il suo incarico fra il suo signore e mia nipote non conferma di meno. Perciò questa lettera, essendo così eccellentemente ignorante, non genererà terrore nel giovane. S’accorgerà che viene da uno zuccone. Ma, signore, io consegnerò la sua sfida a voce, appiopperò ad Aguecheek una notevole fama di valore, e spingerò il gentiluomo—giacché so che la sua giovinezza l’accoglierà prontamente—a un’opinione spaventosissima della sua rabbia, abilità, furia e impetuosità. Questo li spaventerà entrambi tanto che si uccideranno l’un l’altro con lo sguardo, come basilischi.
(didascalia)	Entrano Olivia, e Viola come Cesario
FABIANO	Eccolo che viene con vostra nipote. Fate loro largo finché prende congedo, e subito dietro a lui.
SER TOBY	Io mediterò intanto qualche orrendo messaggio per una sfida.
(didascalia)	Escono Ser Toby, Fabiano e Maria
OLIVIA	Ho detto troppo a un cuore di pietra, e ho esposto il mio onore con troppa incuria. C’è qualcosa in me che rimprovera la mia colpa, ma è una colpa così caparbia e possente che non fa che beffarsi del rimprovero.
VIOLA	Con lo stesso contegno che porta la vostra passione procedono le pene del mio padrone.
OLIVIA	(dandogli un gioiello) Tenete, portate questo gioiello per me, è il mio ritratto— non rifiutatelo, non ha lingua per tormentarvi— e vi supplico, tornate domani. Che potrete chiedermi ch’io vi neghi, che l’onore, salvo, possa dare a chi lo chiede?
VIOLA	Nulla se non questo: il vostro vero amore per il mio padrone.
OLIVIA	Come posso col mio onore dargli quello che ho dato a voi?
VIOLA	Io vi assolverò.
OLIVIA	Bene, tornate domani. Sta’ bene. Un demonio come te potrebbe portare la mia anima all’inferno.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entrano Ser Toby e Fabiano
SER TOBY	Gentiluomo, Dio ti salvi.
VIOLA	E voi, signore.
SER TOBY	Qualunque difesa tu abbia, ricorrivi. Di che natura siano i torti che gli hai fatto, non so, ma il tuo intercettore, pieno di dispetto, sanguinario come il cacciatore, ti attende in fondo al frutteto. Sguaina il tuo stocco, sii lesto nel prepararti, ché il tuo assalitore è rapido, abile e mortale.
VIOLA	V’ingannate, signore, son certo che nessuno ha questione con me. La mia memoria è ben libera e sgombra da ogni immagine d’offesa fatta ad alcuno.
SER TOBY	Troverete che è altrimenti, ve l’assicuro. Perciò, se tenete la vostra vita a qualche prezzo, mettetevi in guardia, ché il vostro avversario ha in sé quanto giovinezza, forza, abilità e ira possono fornire a un uomo.
VIOLA	Vi prego, signore, chi è?
SER TOBY	È cavaliere fatto con spadino non ancora tinto e per considerazioni da tappeto, ma è un diavolo nelle risse private. Anime e corpi ne ha divorziati tre, e il suo furore in questo momento è così implacabile che non v’è soddisfazione se non con spasimi di morte e sepolcro. «O tutto o niente» è la sua parola: dalla o prendila.
VIOLA	Rientrerò nella casa e chiederò qualche scorta alla dama. Non sono un combattente. Ho sentito di certi uomini che attaccano brighe di proposito con altri, per saggiarne il valore. Forse costui è un uomo di quella fatta.
SER TOBY	Signore, no. La sua indignazione deriva da un’offesa assai fondata, perciò andate avanti, e dategli il suo desiderio. Alla casa non tornerete, se non intraprendete con me quello che con altrettanta sicurezza potreste sostenere con lui. Perciò avanti, o snudate la vostra spada tutta nuda, ché battervi dovete, questo è certo, o rinunciare a portar ferro addosso.
VIOLA	Questo è tanto scortese quanto strano. Vi supplico, fatemi questo cortese ufficio: di sapere dal cavaliere quale sia la mia offesa verso di lui. È qualcosa della mia negligenza, nulla del mio proposito.
SER TOBY	Così farò. Signor Fabiano, restate voi presso questo gentiluomo fino al mio ritorno. Esce
VIOLA	Vi prego, signore, sapete voi di questa faccenda?
FABIANO	So che il cavaliere è infuriato contro di voi fino a un arbitrato mortale, ma nulla di più della circostanza.
VIOLA	Vi supplico, che sorta d’uomo è?
FABIANO	Nulla di quella meravigliosa promessa che avreste a leggerlo dal suo aspetto, rispetto a come è probabile lo troviate alla prova del suo valore. Egli è invero, signore, il più abile, sanguinario e fatale avversario che possiate aver trovato in qualunque parte dell’Illiria. Volete camminare verso di lui? Farò la vostra pace con lui, se posso.
(didascalia)	VIOLA Vi sarò molto obbligato per questo. Sono uno che preferirebbe andare con messer Prete che con messer Cavaliere—non m’importa chi sappia tanto della mia tempra. Escono
(didascalia)	Entrano Ser Toby e Ser Andrew
SER TOBY	Ma via, uomo, è un vero diavolo, non ho mai visto una tal virago. Feci un assalto con lui, spadino, fodero e tutto, e mi dà la stoccata con un movimento così mortale che è inevitabile, e alla risposta ti paga sicuro come i tuoi piedi colpiscono il suolo che calcano. Dicono che sia stato maestro di scherma del Sofì.
SER ANDREW	Che il malanno lo pigli, non voglio aver a che fare con lui.
SER TOBY	Sì, ma ora non si lascia placare, Fabiano a stento lo trattiene laggiù.
SER ANDREW	Peste, se avessi pensato che fosse valoroso e così esperto di scherma, l’avrei visto dannato prima di sfidarlo. Lasci cadere la cosa e gli darò il mio cavallo, il grigio Capuleto.
SER TOBY	Farò la proposta. State qui, fatene buona mostra—questo finirà senza perdizione d’anime. (A parte) Perbacco, cavalcherò il tuo cavallo bene quanto cavalco te.
(didascalia)	Entrano Fabiano, e Viola come Cesario
SER TOBY	[A parte a Fabiano] Ho il suo cavallo per comporre la lite, l’ho persuaso che il giovane è un diavolo.
FABIANO	(a parte a Ser Toby) Anche lui se l’immagina altrettanto orribile, e ansima e impallidisce come se avesse un orso alle calcagna.
SER TOBY	(a Viola) Non c’è rimedio, signore, si batterà con voi per amor del suo giuramento. Perbacco, ha ripensato meglio alla sua lite, e trova che ora a stento merita di parlarne. Perciò sguainate a sostegno del suo voto, egli protesta che non vi farà male.
VIOLA	(a parte) Voglia Dio difendermi. Poco ci vorrebbe a farmi dir loro quanto mi manca per essere un uomo.
FABIANO	(a Ser Andrew) Cedete terreno se lo vedete furioso.
SER TOBY	Venite, Ser Andrew, non c’è rimedio, il gentiluomo per amor del suo onore vuole un assalto con voi, non può per il duello evitarlo, ma m’ha promesso, da gentiluomo e soldato qual è, che non vi farà male. Su, all’opera.
SER ANDREW	Voglia Dio che mantenga il giuramento.
(didascalia)	Entra Antonio
VIOLA	V’assicuro che è contro la mia volontà. Ser Andrew e Viola sguainano le spade
ANTONIO	(sguainando la spada, a Ser Andrew) Riponete la vostra spada. Se questo giovane gentiluomo ha fatto offesa, ne prendo su di me la colpa. Se voi offendete lui, io per lui vi sfido.
SER TOBY	Voi, signore? Ma chi siete?
ANTONIO	Uno, signore, che per il suo amore osa fare ancor più di quanto l’avete udito vantarsi con voi che farà.
SER TOBY	(sguainando la spada) Ebbene, se siete un mallevadore, io sono per voi.
(didascalia)	Entrano gli Ufficiali
FABIANO	Oh, buon Ser Toby, fermatevi. Ecco che vengono gli ufficiali.
SER TOBY	(a Antonio) Sarò con voi fra poco.
VIOLA	(a Ser Andrew) Vi prego, signore, riponete la vostra spada, se vi piace.
SER ANDREW	Perbacco sì, signore, e quanto a ciò che v’ho promesso, terrò la parola. Vi porterà facilmente, e obbedisce bene alle redini. Ser Andrew e Viola ripongono le spade
PRIMO UFFICIALE	Questo è l’uomo, fa’ il tuo ufficio.
SECONDO UFFICIALE	Antonio, ti arresto su istanza del Conte Orsino.
ANTONIO	V’ingannate su di me, signore.
PRIMO UFFICIALE	No, signore, non d’un ette. Conosco bene il vostro volto, benché ora non abbiate berretto da mare sul capo. (Al Secondo Ufficiale) Portatelo via, sa che io lo conosco bene.
ANTONIO	Devo obbedire. (A Viola) Questo viene dal cercarvi. Ma non c’è rimedio, ne risponderò. Che farete ora che la mia necessità mi costringe a chiedervi la mia borsa? Mi duole assai più per ciò che non posso fare per voi che per ciò che accade a me. Voi restate stupito, ma fatevi coraggio.
SECONDO UFFICIALE	Venite, signore, via.
ANTONIO	(a Viola) Devo pregarvi di darmi un po’ di quel denaro.
VIOLA	Quale denaro, signore? Per la bella gentilezza che qui mi avete mostrato, e in parte spinto dal vostro presente guaio, dalla mia magra e povera facoltà vi presterò qualcosa. Il mio avere non è molto. Farò divisione con voi di quel che ho. Tenete, (offrendo denaro) ecco metà del mio forziere.
ANTONIO	Volete negarmi ora? È possibile che i miei meriti verso di voi manchino di persuasione? Non tentate la mia miseria, ché non mi renda uomo tanto malfermo da rinfacciarvi quelle gentilezze che ho fatto per voi.
VIOLA	Non ne conosco alcuna, né conosco voi per voce, o per alcun tratto. Odio l’ingratitudine più in un uomo della menzogna, della vanità, della ciarliera ubriachezza, o d’ogni macchia di vizio la cui forte corruzione abita il nostro fragile sangue.
ANTONIO	Oh cieli stessi!
SECONDO UFFICIALE	Venite, signore, vi prego, andiamo.
ANTONIO	Lasciate ch’io parli un poco. Questo giovane che vedete qui io lo strappai per metà dalle fauci della morte, lo soccorsi con tale santità d’amore, e alla sua immagine, che mi parve promettesse venerabilissimo valore, resi devozione.
PRIMO UFFICIALE	Che c’importa? Il tempo passa, via.
ANTONIO	Ma oh, che vile idolo si rivela questo dio! Tu hai, Sebastiano, fatto vergogna a un bel sembiante. In natura non c’è macchia se non la mente. Nessuno può dirsi deforme se non il malvagio. La virtù è bellezza, ma i belli malvagi sono forzieri vuoti fioriti al di fuori dal diavolo.
PRIMO UFFICIALE	L’uomo impazzisce, portatelo via. Venite, venite, signore.
ANTONIO	Conducetemi.
(didascalia)	Esce con gli Ufficiali
VIOLA	(a parte) Mi pare che le sue parole volino da tal passione ch’egli crede a se stesso. Io no. Riveliti vera, immaginazione, oh riveliti vera, ch’io, caro fratello, sia ora presa per te!
SER TOBY	Vieni qua, cavaliere. Vieni qua, Fabiano. Ci sussurreremo un distico o due di sentenze sapientissime. Si tirano in disparte
VIOLA	Ha nominato Sebastiano. Io conosco mio fratello ancor vivo nel mio specchio. Tale e così era di sembiante mio fratello, e andava sempre in questa foggia, colore, ornamento, ché lui io imito. Oh, se si dimostra vero, le tempeste sono benigne, e le onde salse dolci d’amore! Esce
SER TOBY	(a Ser Andrew) Un ragazzo assai disonesto, meschino, e più codardo d’una lepre. La sua disonestà appare nell’abbandonare qui l’amico nel bisogno, e nel rinnegarlo; e quanto alla sua codardia, chiedete a Fabiano.
FABIANO	Un codardo, un codardo devotissimo, religioso in ciò.
SER ANDREW	Per Dio, gli correrò dietro di nuovo, e lo picchierò.
SER TOBY	Fallo, sgrugnalo di santa ragione, ma non sguainare mai la tua spada.
SER ANDREW	E se non lo faccio—
(didascalia)	Esce
FABIANO	Venite, vediamo l’esito.
SER TOBY	Scommetto qualunque somma che non sarà nulla, alla fine.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sebastian and Feste, the clown
FESTE	Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
SEBASTIAN	Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow, Let me be clear of thee.
FESTE	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 nose, neither. Nothing that is so, is so.
SEBASTIAN	I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else, Thou know’st not me.
FESTE	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 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. There’s money for thee. If you tarry longer I shall give worse payment.
FESTE	By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report, after fourteen years’ purchase.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian
SIR ANDREW	(to Sebastian) Now, sir, have I met you again? (Striking him) There’s for you.
SEBASTIAN	[striking Sir Andrew with his dagger] Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there. Are all the people mad?
SIR TOBY	(to Sebastian, holding him back) Hold, sir, or I’ll throw your dagger o’er the house.
FESTE	This will I tell my lady straight, I would not be in some of your coats for twopence. Exit
SIR TOBY	Come on, sir, hold.
SIR ANDREW	Nay, let him alone, I’ll go another way to work with him. I’ll have an action of battery against him if there be any law in Illyria. Though I struck him first, yet it’s no matter 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	(freeing himself) I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
SIR TOBY	What, what? Nay then, I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. Sir Toby and Sebastian draw their swords.
(didascalia)	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 ne’er were preached—out of my sight! Be not offended, dear Cesario. (To Sir Toby) Rudesby, be gone.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian
OLIVIA	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 botched up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go. 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, would thou’dst be ruled by me.
SEBASTIAN	Madam, I will.
OLIVIA	O, say so, and so be.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Sebastiano e Feste, il buffone
FESTE	Volete farmi credere che non sono stato mandato a cercarvi?
SEBASTIANO	Suvvia, suvvia, tu sei un tipo sciocco, lasciami libero di te.
FESTE	Ben sostenuta, in fede mia! No, io non vi conosco, né sono stato mandato da voi dalla mia signora per dirvi di venire a parlarle, né il vostro nome è messer Cesario, né questo è il mio naso, tantomeno. Nulla di ciò che è così, è così.
SEBASTIANO	Ti prego, sfoga la tua follia altrove, tu non mi conosci.
FESTE	Sfogare la mia follia! Ha udito quella parola da qualche gran signore, e ora l’applica a un buffone. Sfogare la mia follia—ho paura che questo gran zoticone del mondo si riveli un damerino. Ti prego ora, sciogli la tua stranezza, e dimmi cosa devo «sfogare» alla mia signora. Devo «sfogarle» che stai venendo?
SEBASTIANO	Ti prego, sciocco greco, allontanati da me. Ecco del denaro per te. Se t’attardi ancora ti darò peggior pagamento.
FESTE	In fede mia, hai la mano aperta. Questi uomini saggi che danno denaro ai buffoni si guadagnano una buona fama, dopo averla comprata per quattordici anni.
(didascalia)	Entrano Ser Andrew, Ser Toby e Fabiano
SER ANDREW	(a Sebastiano) Ebbene, signore, v’ho ritrovato? (Colpendolo) Ecco per voi.
SEBASTIANO	[colpendo Ser Andrew col suo pugnale] Ecco allora per te, e qui, e qui. Sono tutti pazzi, costoro?
SER TOBY	(a Sebastiano, trattenendolo) Fermo, signore, o vi getto il pugnale sopra la casa.
FESTE	Questo lo dirò subito alla mia signora, non vorrei essere nei panni di qualcuno di voi per due soldi. Esce
SER TOBY	Andiamo, signore, fermatevi.
SER ANDREW	No, lasciatelo stare, andrò per un’altra via a sbrigarmela con lui. Gli farò causa per percosse, se c’è legge alcuna in Illiria. Benché io l’abbia colpito per primo, questo non importa nulla.
SEBASTIANO	Lascia la tua mano.
SER TOBY	Su, signore, non vi lascerò andare. Su, mio giovane soldato, riponete il vostro ferro. Siete ben pasciuto di carne. Andiamo.
SEBASTIANO	(liberandosi) Voglio essere libero da te. Che vorresti ora? Se osi tentarmi ancora, sguaina la tua spada.
SER TOBY	Come, come? No, allora devo cavarvi un’oncia o due di questo sangue impertinente. Ser Toby e Sebastiano sguainano le spade.
(didascalia)	Entra Olivia
OLIVIA	Fermo, Toby, sulla tua vita t’ingiungo di fermarti.
SER TOBY	Madonna.
OLIVIA	Sarà sempre così? Sciagurato senza grazia, fatto per le montagne e le caverne barbare, dove mai furono predicate le buone maniere—via dai miei occhi! Non v’offendete, caro Cesario. (A Ser Toby) Villanzone, vattene.
(didascalia)	Escono Ser Toby, Ser Andrew e Fabiano
OLIVIA	Ti prego, gentile amico, che sia la tua bella saggezza, non la tua passione, a governare in questa incivile e ingiusta violenza contro la tua pace. Vieni con me alla mia casa, e odi là quante infruttuose bravate abbia rabberciato questo malandrino, sicché tu perciò possa sorridere di questa. Non puoi far altro che venire. Non rifiutare. Sia maledetta la sua anima per causa mia, egli ha atterrito in te un mio povero cuore.
SEBASTIANO	Che sapore ha questo? Come corre la corrente? O io son pazzo, oppure questo è un sogno. Che la fantasia immerga i miei sensi nel Lete. Se sognare è così, ch’io continui a dormire.
OLIVIA	Suvvia, vieni, ti prego, vorrei che ti lasciassi guidare da me.
SEBASTIANO	Madonna, lo farò.
OLIVIA	Oh, dillo, e così sia.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Maria carrying a gown and false beard, and Feste, the clown
MARIA	Nay, I prithee put on this gown and this beard, make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate. Do it quickly. I’ll call Sir Toby the whilst. Exit
FESTE	Well, I’ll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in’t, and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. He disguises himself 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 to say ‘a careful man and a great scholar’. The competitors enter.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Maria
SIR TOBY	Jove bless thee, Master Parson.
FESTE	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, am Master Parson; for what is ‘that’ but ‘that’, and ‘is’ but ‘is’?
SIR TOBY	To him, Sir Topas.
FESTE	What ho, I say, peace in this prison.
SIR TOBY	The knave counterfeits well—a good knave. Malvolio within
MALVOLIO	Who calls there?
FESTE	Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.
MALVOLIO	Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.
FESTE	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.
FESTE	Fie, thou dishonest Satan—I call 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.
FESTE	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	I am not mad, Sir Topas; I say to you this house is dark.
FESTE	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 never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are. Make the trial of it in any constant question.
FESTE	What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wildfowl?
MALVOLIO	That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
FESTE	What thinkest thou of his opinion?
MALVOLIO	I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.
FESTE	Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness. Thou shalt hold th’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.
FESTE	Nay, I am for all waters.
MARIA	Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown, he sees thee not.
(didascalia)	SIR TOBY (to Feste) To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest 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 my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. To Maria Come by and by to my chamber.
(didascalia)	Exit With Maria
FESTE	(sings) ‘Hey Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does.’
MALVOLIO	Fool!
FESTE	‘My lady is unkind, pardie.’
MALVOLIO	Fooll
FESTE	‘Alas, why is she so?’
MALVOLIO	Fool, I say!
FESTE	‘She 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 for’t.
FESTE	Master Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Ay, good fool.
FESTE	Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
MALVOLIO	Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.
FESTE	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 me out of my wits.
FESTE	Advise you what you say, the minister is here. (As Sir Topas) Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore. Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble.
MALVOLIO	Sir Topas.
FESTE	(as Sir Topas) Maintain no words with him, good fellow. (As himself) Who I, sir? Not I, sir. God b’wi’ you, good Sir Topas. (As Sir Topas) Marry, amen. (As himself) I will, sir, I will.
MALVOLIO	Fool, fool, fool, I say.
FESTE	Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you.
MALVOLIO	Good fool, help me to some light and some paper. I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. no
FESTE	Well-a-day that you were, sir.
MALVOLIO	By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, and light, and convey what I will set down to my lady. It shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.
FESTE	I will help you to’t. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit?
MALVOLIO	Believe me, I am not, I tell thee true.
FESTE	Nay, I’ll ne’er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.
MALVOLIO	Fool, I’ll requite it in the highest degree. I prithee, be gone.
FESTE	I am gone, sir, And anon, sir, I’ll be with you again, In a trice, Like to the old Vice, Your need to sustain, Who with dagger of lath In his rage and his wrath Cries ‘Aha,’ to the devil, Like a mad lad, ‘Pare thy nails, dad, Adieu, goodman devil.’ Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Maria portando una tonaca e una barba finta, e Feste, il buffone
MARIA	Su, ti prego, mettiti questa tonaca e questa barba, fagli credere che sei Ser Topas il curato. Fallo presto. Intanto io chiamo Ser Toby. Esce
FESTE	Bene, me la metterò, e mi dissimulerò in essa, e vorrei essere il primo che mai si sia dissimulato in una tale tonaca. Si traveste Non sono abbastanza alto per far bene la figura della funzione, né abbastanza magro per esser preso per un buono studioso; ma il dirsi «uomo onesto e buon massaio» torna altrettanto bene che il dirsi «uomo scrupoloso e gran dotto». Entrano i concorrenti.
(didascalia)	Entrano Ser Toby e Maria
SER TOBY	Giove ti benedica, signor Parroco.
FESTE	Bonos dies, Ser Toby, ché, come l’antico eremita di Praga, che mai vide penna e inchiostro, disse assai argutamente a una nipote di re Gorboduc: «Quel che è, è». Così io, essendo signor Parroco, sono signor Parroco; ché cos’è «quel» se non «quel», e «è» se non «è»?
SER TOBY	Addosso a lui, Ser Topas.
FESTE	Ehilà, dico, pace in questa prigione.
SER TOBY	Il briccone contraffà bene—un buon briccone. Malvolio da dentro
MALVOLIO	Chi chiama lì?
FESTE	Ser Topas il curato, che viene a visitare Malvolio il lunatico.
MALVOLIO	Ser Topas, Ser Topas, buon Ser Topas, andate dalla mia signora.
FESTE	Via, demonio iperbolico, come tormenti quest’uomo! Non parli d’altro che di dame?
SER TOBY	Ben detto, signor Parroco.
MALVOLIO	Ser Topas, mai uomo fu offeso a questo modo. Buon Ser Topas, non crediate che io sia pazzo. Mi hanno messo qui in un’orrenda tenebra.
FESTE	Vergogna, Satana disonesto—ti chiamo coi termini più modesti, ché io sono di quei gentili che tratteranno con cortesia il diavolo in persona. Dici tu che quella casa è buia?
MALVOLIO	Come l’inferno, Ser Topas.
FESTE	Ma via, essa ha finestre a bovindo trasparenti come barricate, e i lucernari verso il sud-nord sono lucenti come l’ebano, e tu ti lamenti ancora d’ostruzione?
MALVOLIO	Non sono pazzo, Ser Topas; vi dico che questa casa è buia.
FESTE	Pazzo, tu erri. Io dico che non c’è tenebra se non l’ignoranza, nella quale tu sei più smarrito che gli Egiziani nella loro nebbia.
MALVOLIO	Io dico che questa casa è buia come l’ignoranza, quand’anche l’ignoranza fosse buia come l’inferno; e dico che mai uomo fu abusato a questo modo. Non sono più pazzo di voi. Fatene la prova con qualunque domanda sensata.
FESTE	Qual è l’opinione di Pitagora intorno alla selvaggina alata?
MALVOLIO	Che l’anima di nostra nonna potrebbe per caso abitare in un uccello.
FESTE	Che pensi tu della sua opinione?
MALVOLIO	Io penso nobilmente dell’anima, e in nessun modo approvo la sua opinione.
FESTE	Sta’ bene. Rimani pure nella tenebra. Dovrai sostenere l’opinione di Pitagora prima ch’io ammetta il tuo senno, e temere d’uccidere una beccaccia per non spossessare l’anima di tua nonna. Sta’ bene.
MALVOLIO	Ser Topas, Ser Topas!
SER TOBY	Mio squisitissimo Ser Topas.
FESTE	Ma sì, io son buono per tutte le acque.
MARIA	Avresti potuto far questo senza la barba e la tonaca, lui non ti vede.
(didascalia)	SER TOBY (a Feste) Va’ da lui con la tua propria voce, e riportami come lo trovi. Vorrei che fossimo ben liberi di questa bricconata. Se lo si può comodamente liberare, vorrei che lo fosse, ché ora sono a tal punto in disgrazia con mia nipote che non posso spingere con alcuna sicurezza questo spasso fino in fondo. A Maria Vieni fra poco nella mia camera.
(didascalia)	Esce con Maria
FESTE	(canta) «Ehi Robin, allegro Robin, dimmi come sta la tua signora.»
MALVOLIO	Buffone!
FESTE	«La mia signora è scortese, perdio.»
MALVOLIO	Buffone!
FESTE	«Ahimè, perché è così?»
MALVOLIO	Buffone, dico!
FESTE	«Ne ama un altro.» Chi chiama, eh?
MALVOLIO	Buon buffone, quanto mai vorrai meritar bene dalla mia mano, procurami una candela e penna, inchiostro e carta. Da gentiluomo qual sono, vivrò per essertene grato.
FESTE	Messer Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Sì, buon buffone.
FESTE	Ahimè, signore, come cadeste fuori dei vostri cinque sensi?
MALVOLIO	Buffone, mai uomo fu così notoriamente abusato. Io sto bene col senno, buffone, quanto ci stai tu.
FESTE	Ma solo altrettanto bene? Allora siete pazzo davvero, se non state col senno meglio d’un buffone.
MALVOLIO	Qui m’hanno ridotto a un oggetto di scena, mi tengono al buio, mi mandano ministri, asini, e fanno tutto il possibile per farmi uscir di senno a forza di sfacciataggine.
FESTE	Badate a quel che dite, il ministro è qui. (Come Ser Topas) Malvolio, Malvolio, il cielo ti restituisca il senno. Sforzati di dormire, e lascia le tue vane ciance.
MALVOLIO	Ser Topas.
FESTE	(come Ser Topas) Non scambiar parola con lui, buon uomo. (Come se stesso) Chi, io, signore? Non io, signore. Dio sia con voi, buon Ser Topas. (Come Ser Topas) Perbacco, amen. (Come se stesso) Lo farò, signore, lo farò.
MALVOLIO	Buffone, buffone, buffone, dico.
FESTE	Ahimè, signore, siate paziente. Che dite, signore? Sono sgridato per aver parlato con voi.
MALVOLIO	Buon buffone, procurami un po’ di luce e un po’ di carta. Ti dico che sto bene col senno quanto qualunque uomo in Illiria. no
FESTE	Ohimè, se solo lo foste, signore.
MALVOLIO	Per questa mano, lo sono. Buon buffone, un po’ d’inchiostro, carta e luce, e reca alla mia signora quel che scriverò. Ti gioverà più di quanto abbia mai fatto il recapito d’una lettera.
FESTE	Ve li procurerò. Ma ditemi il vero, non siete pazzo davvero, o fate solo finta?
MALVOLIO	Credetemi, non lo sono, vi dico il vero.
FESTE	Suvvia, non crederò mai a un pazzo finché non gli veda il cervello. Vi porterò luce, e carta, e inchiostro.
MALVOLIO	Buffone, te ne ricompenserò al più alto grado. Ti prego, va’.
FESTE	Me ne vado, signore, e fra poco, signore, sarò di nuovo con voi, in un baleno, come l’antico Vizio, a sostenere il vostro bisogno, il quale con pugnale di legno nella sua rabbia e nel suo furore grida «Ahah!» al diavolo, come un ragazzo impazzito: «Tagliati le unghie, babbo, addio, messer diavolo.» Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Sebastian
SEBASTIAN	This is the air, that is the glorious sun. This pearl she gave me, I do feel’t and see‘t, And though ’tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet ‘tis not madness. Where’s Antonio then? I could not find him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service, For though my soul disputes well with my sense That this may be some error but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes And wrangle with my reason that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad, Or else the lady’s mad. Yet if ’twere so She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs and their dispatch With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceive she does. There’s something in’t That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia and a Priest
OLIVIA	Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well Now go with me, and with this holy man, Into the chantry by. There before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full assurance of your faith, That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace. He shall conceal it Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keep According to my birth. What do you say?
SEBASTIAN	I’ll follow this good man, and go with you, And having sworn truth, ever will be true.
OLIVIA	Then lead the way, good father, and heavens so shine That they may fairly note this act of mine.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Sebastiano
SEBASTIANO	Questa è l’aria, quello è il sole glorioso. Questa perla ella me la diede, io la sento e la vedo, e benché sia meraviglia ciò che così mi avvolge, pure non è follia. Dov’è dunque Antonio? Non ho potuto trovarlo all’Elefante, eppure là era stato, e là trovai questa notizia, che aveva battuto la città per cercarmi. Il suo consiglio ora mi renderebbe aureo servizio, ché, benché la mia anima disputi bene col mio senso che questo possa essere qualche errore ma non follia, pure questo accidente e questa piena di fortuna eccedono tanto ogni esempio, ogni discorso, che sono pronto a diffidare dei miei occhi e a contendere con la mia ragione, che mi persuade a qualunque altra credenza fuorché ch’io sia pazzo, oppure è pazza la dama. Eppure, se fosse così, ella non potrebbe reggere la sua casa, comandare i suoi seguaci, prendere e restituire gli affari e il loro sbrigo con un portamento così liscio, discreto e saldo come m’accorgo che fa. C’è in questo qualcosa che è ingannevole. Ma ecco che viene la dama.
(didascalia)	Entrano Olivia e un Prete
OLIVIA	Non biasimate questa mia fretta. Se le vostre intenzioni sono buone, venite ora con me, e con questo sant’uomo, nella cappella qui presso. Là davanti a lui, e sotto quel tetto consacrato, datemi in pegno la piena assicurazione della vostra fede, sicché la mia gelosissima e troppo dubbiosa anima possa vivere in pace. Egli lo terrà celato finché non vorrete che venga risaputo, al qual tempo terremo la nostra celebrazione secondo la mia nascita. Che ne dite?
SEBASTIANO	Seguirò questo buon uomo, e verrò con voi, e avendo giurato la verità, sarò per sempre fedele.
OLIVIA	Allora fate strada, buon padre, e i cieli splendano tanto da segnare con favore questo mio atto.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Feste the clown and Fabian
FABIAN	Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.
FESTE	Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.
FABIAN	Anything.
FESTE	Do not desire to see this letter.
FABIAN	This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke, Viola as Cesario, Curio, and lords
ORSINO	Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?
FESTE	Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.
ORSINO	I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow? FESTE Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends.
ORSINO	Just the contrary—the better for thy friends.
FESTE	No, sir, the worse.
ORSINO	How can that be?
FESTE	Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass, so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused; so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why then the worse for my friends and the better for my foes.
ORSINO	Why, this is excellent.
FESTE	By my troth, sir, no, though it please you to be one of my friends.
ORSINO	(giving money) Thou shalt not be the worse for me. There’s gold.
FESTE	But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.
ORSINO	O, you give me ill counsel.
FESTE	Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.
ORSINO	Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer. (Giving money) There’s another.
FESTE	Primo, secundo, tertio is a good play, and the old saying is ‘The third pays for all’. The triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure, or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind—‘one, two, three’.
ORSINO	You can fool no more money out of me 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.
FESTE	Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir, but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness. But as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Antonio and Officers
VIOLA	Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
ORSINO	That face of his I do remember well, Yet when I saw it last it was besmeared As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war. A baubling vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught and bulk unprizable, With which such scatheful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet That very envy and the tongue of loss Cried fame and honour on him. What’s the matter?
FIRST OFFICER	Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix and her freight from Candy, And this is he that did the Tiger board When your young nephew Titus lost his leg. Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In private brabble did we apprehend him.
VIOLA	He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side, But in conclusion put strange speech upon me. I know not what ’twas but distraction.
ORSINO	(to Antonio) Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief, What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies Whom thou in terms so bloody and so dear Hast made thine enemies?
ANTONIO	Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me. Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though, I confess, on base and ground enough Orsino’s enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither. That most ingrateful boy there by your side From the rude sea’s enraged and foamy mouth Did I redeem. A wreck past hope he was. His life I gave him, and did thereto add My love without retention or restraint, All his in dedication. For his sake Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town, Drew to defend him when he was beset, Where being apprehended, his false cunning— Not meaning to partake with me in danger— Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twenty years’ removed thing While one would wink, denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before.
VIOLA	How can this be?
ORSINO	When came he to this town?
ANTONIO	Today, my lord, and for three months before, No int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy, Both day and night did we keep company.
(didascalia)	Enter Olivia and attendants
ORSINO	Here comes the Countess. Now heaven walks on earth. But for thee, fellow—fellow, thy words are madness. Three months this youth hath tended upon me. But more of that anon. Take him aside.
OLIVIA	What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
VIOLA	Madam—
ORSINO	Gracious Olivia—
OLIVIA	What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord—
VIOLA	My lord would speak, my duty hushes me.
OLIVIA	If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music.
ORSINO	Still so cruel?
OLIVIA	Still so constant, lord.
ORSINO	What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull‘st off’rings hath breathed out That e’er devotion tendered—what shall I do?
OLIVIA	Even what it please my lord that shall become him.
ORSINO	Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to th’ Egyptian thief, at point of death Kill what I love—a savage jealousy That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still. But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye Where he sits crowned in his master’s spite. (To Viola) Come, boy, with me. My thoughts are ripe in mischief. I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.
VIOLA	And I most jocund, apt, and willingly To do you rest a thousand deaths would die.
OLIVIA	Where goes Cesario?
VIOLA	After him I love More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More by all mores than e’er I shall love wife. If I do feign, you witnesses above, Punish my life for tainting of my love.
OLIVIA	Ay me detested, how am I beguiled!
VIOLA	Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?
OLIVIA	Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy father. Exit an attendant
ORSINO	(to Viola) Come, away.
OLIVIA	Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.
ORSINO	Husband?
OLIVIA	Ay, husband. Can he that deny?
ORSINO	(to Viola) Her husband, sirrah?
VIOLA	No, my lord, not I.
OLIVIA	Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety. Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up, Be that thou know‘st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear’st.
(didascalia)	Enter the Priest
OLIVIA	O welcome, father. Father, I charge thee by thy reverence Here to unfold—though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before ’tis ripe—what thou dost know Hath newly passed between this youth and me.
PRIEST	A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthened by interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Sealed in my function, by my testimony; Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave I have travelled but two hours.
ORSINO	(to Viola) O thou dissembling cub, what wilt thou be When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.
VIOLA	My lord, I do protest.
OLIVIA	O, do not swear! Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Andrew
SIR ANDREW	For the love of God, a surgeon—send one presently to Sir Toby.
OLIVIA	What’s the matter?
SIR ANDREW	He’s broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb, too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home.
OLIVIA	Who has done this, Sir Andrew?
SIR ANDREW	The Count’s gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate.
ORSINO	My gentleman, Cesario?
SIR ANDREW	’Od’s lifelings, here he is. (To Viola) You broke my head for nothing, and that that I did I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby.
VIOLA	Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you. You drew your sword upon me without cause, But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Toby and Feste, the clown
SIR ANDREW	If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt you have hurt me. I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby, halting. You shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink he would have tickled you othergates than he did.
ORSINO	(to Sir Toby) How now, gentleman? How is’t with you?
SIR TOBY	That’s all one, he’s hurt me, and there’s th’end on’t. (To Feste) Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?
FESTE	O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone. His eyes were set at eight i’th’ morning.
SIR TOBY	Then he’s a rogue, and a passy-measures pavan. I hate a drunken rogue.
OLIVIA	Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?
SIR ANDREW	I’ll help you, Sir Toby, because we’ll be dressed together.
SIR TOBY	Will you help—an ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave; a thin-faced knave, a gull?
OLIVIA	Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, Feste, and Fabian
(didascalia)	Enter Sebastian
SEBASTIAN	(to Olivia) I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman, But had it been the brother of my blood I must have done no less with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that I do perceive it hath offended you. Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago.
ORSINO	One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A natural perspective, that is and is not.
SEBASTIAN	Antonio! O, my dear Antonio, How have the hours racked and tortured me Since I have lost thee!
ANTONIO	Sebastian are you?
SEBASTIAN	Fear’st thou that, Antonio?
ANTONIO	How have you made division of yourself? An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
OLIVIA	Most wonderfull
SEBASTIAN	(seeing Viola) Do I stand there? I never had a brother, Nor can there be that deity in my nature Of here and everywhere. I had a sister, Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured. Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman? What name? What parentage?
VIOLA	Of Messaline. Sebastian was my father. Such a Sebastian was my brother, too. So went he suited to his watery tomb. If spirits can assume both form and suit You come to fright us.
SEBASTIAN	A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek And say ‘Thrice welcome, drowned Viola.’
VIOLA	My father had a mole upon his brow
SEBASTIAN	And so had mine.
VIOLA	And died that day when Viola from her birth Had numbered thirteen years.
SEBASTIAN	O, that record is lively in my soul. He finished indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years.
VIOLA	If nothing lets to make us happy both But this my masculine usurped attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune do cohere and jump That I am Viola, which to confirm I’ll bring you to a captain in this town Where lie my maiden weeds, by whose gentle help I was preserved to serve this noble count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord.
SEBASTIAN	(to Olivia) So comes it, lady, you have been mistook. But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid, Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived. You are betrothed both to a maid and man.
ORSINO	(to Olivia) Be not amazed. Right noble is his blood. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck. (To Viola) Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
VIOLA	And all those sayings will I overswear, And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from night.
ORSINO	Give me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.
VIOLA	The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maid’s garments. He upon some action Is now in durance, at Malvolio’s suit, A gentleman and follower of my lady’s.
OLIVIA	He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither— And yet, alas, now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distraught.
(didascalia)	Enter Feste the clown with a letter, and Fabian
OLIVIA	A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banished his. How does he, sirrah?
FESTE	Truly, madam, he holds Beelzebub at the stave’s end as well as a man in his case may do. He’s here writ a letter to you. I should have given’t you today morning. But as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.
OLIVIA	Open’t and read it.
FESTE	Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman. (Reads) ‘By the Lord, madam’—
OLIVIA	How now, art thou mad?
FESTE	No, madam, I do but read madness. An your ladyship will have it as it ought to be you must allow vox.
OLIVIA	Prithee, read i’thy right wits.
FESTE	So I do, madonna, but to read his right wits is to read thus. Therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.
OLIVIA	(to Fabian) Read it you, sirrah. Feste gives the letter to Fabian
FABIAN	(reads) ‘By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on, with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-used Malvolio.’
OLIVIA	Did he write this?
FESTE	Ay, madam.
ORSINO	This savours not much of distraction.
OLIVIA	See him delivered, Fabian, bring him hither. My lord, so please you—these things further thought on— To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown th‘alliance on’t, so please you, Here at my house and at my proper cost.
ORSINO	Madam, I am most apt t’embrace your offer. (To Viola) Your master quits you, and for your service done him So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you called me master for so long, Here is my hand. You shall from this time be Your master’s mistress.
OLIVIA	(to Viola) A sister, you are she.
(didascalia)	Enter Malvolio
ORSINO	Is this the madman?
OLIVIA	Ay, my lord, this same. How now, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong.
OLIVIA	Have I, Malvolio? No.
MALVOLIO	(showing a letter) Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand. Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase, Or say ‘tis not your seal, not your invention. You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me in the modesty of honour Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, Bade me come smiling and cross-gartered to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people, And acting this in an obedient hope, Why have you suffered me to be imprisoned, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck and gull That e’er invention played on? Tell me why?
OLIVIA	Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though I confess much like the character, But out of question, ‘tis Maria’s hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me thou wast mad; then cam’st in smiling, And in such forms which here were presupposed Upon thee in the letter. Prithee be content; This practice hath most shrewdly passed upon thee, But when we know the grounds and authors of it Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause.
FABIAN	Good madam, hear me speak, And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wondered at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confess myself and Toby Set this device against Malvolio here Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceived against him. Maria writ The letter, at Sir Toby’s great importance, In recompense whereof he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was followed May rather pluck on laughter than revenge If that the injuries be justly weighed That have on both sides passed.
OLIVIA	(to Malvolio) Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!
FESTE	Why, ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them.’ I was one, sir, in this interlude, one Sir Topas, sir; but that’s all one. ‘By the Lord, fool, I am not mad’—but do you remember, ‘Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal, an you smile not, he’s gagged’—and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
MALVOLIO	I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you. Exit
OLIVIA	He hath been most notoriously abused.
ORSINO	Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace. He hath not told us of the captain yet.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
ORSINO	When that is known, and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence. Cesario, come— For so you shall be while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino’s mistress, and his fancy’s queen.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Feste
FESTE	(sings) When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man’s estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, ’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With tosspots still had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day. A great while ago the world begun, With hey ho, the wind and the rain, But that’s all one, our play is done, And we’ll strive to please you every day.
(didascalia)	Exit
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA	Troilus and Cressida, first heard of in a Stationers’ Register entry of 7 February 1603, was probably written within the previous eighteen months. This entry did not result in publication; the play was re-entered on 28 January 1609, and a quarto appeared during that year. The version printed in the 1623 Folio adds a Prologue, and has many variations in dialogue. It includes the epilogue spoken by Pandarus (which we print as an Additional Passage), but certain features of the text suggest that it does so by accident, and that the epilogue had been marked for omission. Our text is based in substance on the Folio in the belief that this represents the play in its later, revised form. The story of the siege of Troy was the main subject of one of the greatest surviving works of classical literature, Homer’s Iliad, probably Shakespeare read George Chapman’s 1598 translation of Books 1―2 and 7―11. The story also figures prominently in Virgil’s Aeneid and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, both of which Shakespeare knew well. The war between Greece and Troy had been provoked by the abduction of the Grecian Helen (better, if confusingly, known as Helen of Troy) by the Trojan hero Paris, son of King Priam. Shakespeare’s play opens when the Greek forces, led by Menelaus’ brother Agamemnon, have already been besieging Troy for seven years. Shakespeare concentrates on the opposition between the Greek hero Achilles and the Trojan Hector. In the Folio, Troilus and Cressida is printed among the tragedies; if there is a tragic hero, it is Hector. Shakespeare also shows how the war caused by one love affair destroys another. The stories of the love between the Trojan Troilus and the Grecian Cressida, encouraged by her uncle Pandarus, and of Cressida’s desertion of Troilus for the Greek Diomedes, are medieval additions to the heroic narrative. Chaucer’s long poem Troilus and Criseyde was already a classic, and Shakespeare would also have known Robert Henryson’s continuation, The Testament of Cresseid, in which Cressida, deserted by Diomedes, dwindles into a leprous beggar. Troilus and Cressida is a demanding play, Shakespeare’s third longest, highly philosophical in tone and with an exceptionally learned vocabulary. Possibly (as has often been conjectured) he wrote it for private performance; the 1603 Stationers’ Register entry says it had been acted by the King’s Men, and the original title-page of the 1609 quarto repeats this claim, but while the edition was being printed this title-page was replaced by one that does not mention performance, and an epistle was added claiming that it was ‘a new play, never staled with the stage, never clapper-clawed with the palms of the vulgar’. An adaptation by John Dryden of 1679 was successfully acted from time to time for half a century, but the first verified performance of Shakespeare’s play was in Germany in 1898, and that was heavily adapted. Troilus and Cressida came into its own in the twentieth century, when its deflation of heroes, its radical questioning of human values (especially in relation to love and war), and its remorseless examination of the frailty of human aspirations in the face of the destructive powers of time seemed particularly apposite to modern intellectual and ethical preoccupations.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY
PROLOGUE	Trojans PRIAM, King of Troy CASSANDRA, Priam’s daughter, a prophetess ANDROMACHE, wife of Hector PANDARUS, a lord CRESSIDA, his niece CALCHAS, her father, who has joined the Greeks HELEN, wife of Menelaus, now living with Paris ALEXANDER, servant of Cressida Servants of Troilus, musicians, soldiers, attendants Greeks AGAMEMNON, Commander-in-Chief MENELAUS, his brother
ACHILLES	PATROCLUS, his companion
THERSITES	MYRMIDONS, soldiers of Achilles Servants of Diomedes, soldiers

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Feste il buffone e Fabiano
FABIANO	Ora, per l’affetto che mi porti, fammi vedere la sua lettera.
FESTE	Buon messer Fabiano, concedetemi un’altra richiesta.
FABIANO	Qualunque cosa.
FESTE	Non desiderate di vedere questa lettera.
FABIANO	Questo è come dare un cane e in ricompensa chiedere indietro il mio cane.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Duca, Viola come Cesario, Curio e signori
ORSINO	Appartenete alla signora Olivia, amici?
FESTE	Sì, signore, siamo un po’ dei suoi fronzoli.
ORSINO	Ti conosco bene. Come stai, mio buon compagno? FESTE In verità, signore, meglio grazie ai miei nemici e peggio grazie ai miei amici.
ORSINO	Proprio il contrario—meglio grazie ai tuoi amici.
FESTE	No, signore, peggio.
ORSINO	Come può essere?
FESTE	Perbacco, signore, essi mi lodano, e fanno di me un asino. Ora i miei nemici mi dicono chiaro e tondo che sono un asino, sicché per mezzo dei miei nemici, signore, io traggo profitto nella conoscenza di me stesso, e per mezzo dei miei amici sono ingannato; sicché, se le conclusioni sono come i baci, se le vostre quattro negazioni fanno le vostre due affermazioni, ebbene allora peggio grazie ai miei amici e meglio grazie ai miei nemici.
ORSINO	Ma via, questo è eccellente.
FESTE	In fede mia, signore, no, benché vi piaccia essere uno dei miei amici.
ORSINO	(dandogli denaro) Non starai peggio per causa mia. Ecco dell’oro.
FESTE	Se non fosse doppio gioco, signore, vorrei che ne faceste un altro.
ORSINO	Oh, mi date cattivo consiglio.
FESTE	Mettetevi la grazia in tasca, signore, per questa volta, e che la vostra carne e il vostro sangue le obbediscano.
ORSINO	Bene, sarò tanto peccatore da fare il doppio gioco. (Dandogli denaro) Eccone un altro.
FESTE	Primo, secundo, tertio è un buon gioco, e il vecchio detto dice: «Il terzo paga per tutti». Il tempo ternario, signore, è una buona misura da ballo, oppure le campane di San Benedetto, signore, possono ricordarvelo—«uno, due, tre».
ORSINO	Non potete buffoneggiare per cavarmi altro denaro a questo tiro. Se volete far sapere alla vostra signora che sono qui per parlarle, e condurla qui con voi, ciò potrà risvegliare ancora la mia generosità.
FESTE	Perbacco, signore, ninna nanna alla vostra generosità finché non ritorno. Vado, signore, ma non vorrei che pensaste che il mio desiderio di avere sia il peccato di cupidigia. Ma come dite voi, signore, lasciate che la vostra generosità faccia un sonnellino, io la risveglierò fra poco.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entrano Antonio e gli Ufficiali
VIOLA	Ecco che viene l’uomo, signore, che mi soccorse.
ORSINO	Quel suo volto lo ricordo bene, eppure quando lo vidi l’ultima volta era imbrattato nero come Vulcano nel fumo della guerra. Era capitano d’un vascello da nulla, di pescaggio basso e di stazza spregevole, col quale fece così dannoso arrembaggio col più nobile scafo della nostra flotta che la stessa invidia e la lingua della sconfitta gridarono fama e onore su di lui. Che c’è?
PRIMO UFFICIALE	Orsino, questo è quell’Antonio che catturò la Fenice e il suo carico da Candia, e questo è colui che abbordò la Tigre quando il vostro giovane nipote Tito perse la gamba. Qui nelle strade, incurante di vergogna e di stato, in una rissa privata l’abbiamo arrestato.
VIOLA	Egli mi fece cortesia, signore, sguainò dalla mia parte, ma alla fine mi rivolse uno strano discorso. Non so cosa fosse se non delirio.
ORSINO	(a Antonio) Insigne pirata, tu ladro d’acqua salsa, quale folle temerarietà t’ha portato in balìa di coloro che in termini così sanguinosi e così cari ti sei fatto nemici?
ANTONIO	Orsino, nobile signore, compiacetevi ch’io mi scrolli di dosso questi nomi che mi date. Antonio non fu mai ladro né pirata, benché, lo confesso, con base e fondamento sufficienti nemico d’Orsino. Una stregoneria mi trasse qui. Quel ragazzo ingratissimo là al vostro fianco dalla bocca infuriata e schiumosa del mare crudele io riscattai. Era un relitto oltre ogni speranza. Gli diedi la vita, e vi aggiunsi inoltre il mio amore senza riserva né ritegno, tutto a lui dedicato. Per amor suo mi esposi, puramente per il suo amore, al pericolo di questa città avversa, sguainai per difenderlo quando fu assalito, e là, essendo io arrestato, la sua falsa astuzia— non volendo egli spartire con me il pericolo— gli insegnò a negarmi sfacciatamente ogni conoscenza, e divenne cosa lontana vent’anni nel tempo d’un batter d’occhio, mi negò la mia stessa borsa, che gli avevo raccomandato in uso non mezz’ora prima.
VIOLA	Come può essere questo?
ORSINO	Quando venne in questa città?
ANTONIO	Oggi, mio signore, e per tre mesi prima, senza intervallo, senza un minuto di vuoto, e di giorno e di notte siamo stati insieme.
(didascalia)	Entrano Olivia e il seguito
ORSINO	Ecco che viene la Contessa. Ora il cielo cammina sulla terra. Ma quanto a te, compagno—compagno, le tue parole sono follia. Da tre mesi questo giovane m’ha servito. Ma di ciò più tardi. Portatelo in disparte.
OLIVIA	Che vuole il mio signore, che non possa avere, e in cui Olivia possa mostrarsi servizievole? Cesario, voi non mantenete la promessa con me.
VIOLA	Madonna—
ORSINO	Graziosa Olivia—
OLIVIA	Che dite, Cesario? Mio buon signore—
VIOLA	Il mio signore vuol parlare, il mio dovere mi fa tacere.
OLIVIA	Se è qualcosa sulla vecchia aria, mio signore, è per il mio orecchio tanto greve e stucchevole quanto un ululato dopo la musica.
ORSINO	Sempre così crudele?
OLIVIA	Sempre così costante, signore.
ORSINO	Come, alla perversità? Voi, dama incivile, ai cui altari ingrati e infausti la mia anima ha esalato le offerte più fedeli che devozione mai porgesse—che devo fare?
OLIVIA	Proprio quel che piacerà al mio signore, e che a lui si convenga.
ORSINO	Perché non dovrei, se avessi il cuore di farlo, come il ladro egizio, in punto di morte uccidere ciò che amo—una selvaggia gelosia che talvolta sa di nobiltà. Ma udite questo: poiché voi gettate nel disprezzo la mia fede, e poiché in parte conosco lo strumento che mi scalza dal mio vero posto nel vostro favore, vivete pure ancora tiranna dal petto di marmo. Ma questo vostro favorito, che so che amate, e che, per il cielo lo giuro, io ho caro teneramente, lui io strapperò da quell’occhio crudele dove siede incoronato a dispetto del suo padrone. (A Viola) Vieni, ragazzo, con me. I miei pensieri sono maturi al male. Sacrificherò l’agnello che amo per far dispetto a un cuore di corvo dentro una colomba.
VIOLA	E io, giocondissimo, pronto e volentieri, per darvi pace morirei mille morti.
OLIVIA	Dove va Cesario?
VIOLA	Dietro a colui che amo più di quanto ami questi occhi, più della mia vita, più, con ogni misura, di quanto mai amerò moglie. Se io fingo, voi testimoni lassù, punite la mia vita per aver macchiato il mio amore.
OLIVIA	Ahimè detestata, come sono ingannata!
VIOLA	Chi v’inganna? Chi vi fa torto?
OLIVIA	Ti sei dimenticato di te stesso? È passato tanto? Chiamate qui il santo padre. Esce un servitore
ORSINO	(a Viola) Vieni, andiamo.
OLIVIA	Dove, mio signore? Cesario, marito, resta.
ORSINO	Marito?
OLIVIA	Sì, marito. Può forse negarlo?
ORSINO	(a Viola) Suo marito, messere?
VIOLA	No, mio signore, non io.
OLIVIA	Ahimè, è la bassezza della tua paura che ti fa strangolare ciò che ti è proprio. Non temere, Cesario, raccogli le tue fortune, sii quel che sai d’essere, e allora sarai grande quanto ciò che temi.
(didascalia)	Entra il Prete
OLIVIA	Oh benvenuto, padre. Padre, t’ingiungo per la tua reverenza di svelare qui—benché di recente intendessimo tener nell’ombra ciò che l’occasione ora rivela prima che sia maturo—quel che tu sai essere or ora passato fra questo giovane e me.
PRETE	Un contratto d’eterno vincolo d’amore, confermato dal mutuo congiungimento delle vostre mani, attestato dal santo accostarsi delle labbra, rafforzato dallo scambio dei vostri anelli, e tutta la cerimonia di questo patto suggellata dal mio ufficio, per la mia testimonianza; da allora, il mio orologio m’ha detto, verso la mia tomba non ho viaggiato che due ore.
ORSINO	(a Viola) Oh tu, cucciolo dissimulatore, che sarai quando il tempo avrà seminato il grigio sulla tua pelle? O forse la tua astuzia crescerà così in fretta che il tuo stesso sgambetto sarà la tua rovina? Addio, e prendila, ma dirigi i tuoi passi dove tu ed io non possiamo mai più incontrarci.
VIOLA	Mio signore, io protesto.
OLIVIA	Oh, non giurare! Serba un po’ di fede, benché tu abbia troppa paura.
(didascalia)	Entra Ser Andrew
SER ANDREW	Per l’amor di Dio, un chirurgo—mandatene subito uno da Ser Toby.
OLIVIA	Che c’è?
SER ANDREW	M’ha spaccato la testa di traverso, e ha dato anche a Ser Toby una cresta insanguinata. Per l’amor di Dio, il vostro aiuto! Darei quaranta sterline per essere a casa.
OLIVIA	Chi ha fatto questo, Ser Andrew?
SER ANDREW	Il gentiluomo del Conte, un certo Cesario. L’avevamo preso per un codardo, ma è il diavolo incardinato.
ORSINO	Il mio gentiluomo, Cesario?
SER ANDREW	Per la vita di Dio, eccolo qui. (A Viola) M’avete spaccato la testa per nulla, e quel che ho fatto io, fui aizzato a farlo da Ser Toby.
VIOLA	Perché parlate a me? Non v’ho mai fatto male. Sguainaste la vostra spada contro di me senza causa, ma io vi parlai cortesemente, e non vi feci male.
(didascalia)	Entrano Ser Toby e Feste, il buffone
SER ANDREW	Se una cresta insanguinata è un male, voi m’avete fatto male. Credo che non teniate in nessun conto una cresta insanguinata. Ecco che viene Ser Toby, zoppicando. Ne sentirete altre; ma se non fosse stato nel vino v’avrebbe solleticato in ben altro modo di come ha fatto.
ORSINO	(a Ser Toby) Ebbene, gentiluomo? Come state?
SER TOBY	È tutt’uno, m’ha ferito, e la storia finisce lì. (A Feste) Sciocco, hai visto Dick il Chirurgo, sciocco?
FESTE	Oh, è ubriaco, Ser Toby, da un’ora. I suoi occhi erano già fissi alle otto del mattino.
SER TOBY	Allora è un furfante, e una pavana a passi lenti. Odio un furfante ubriaco.
OLIVIA	Portatelo via! Chi ha fatto questo scempio di loro?
SER ANDREW	V’aiuterò, Ser Toby, ché ci faremo medicare insieme.
SER TOBY	Volete aiutarmi voi—una testa d’asino, e un babbeo, e un briccone; un briccone dalla faccia smunta, un gonzo?
OLIVIA	Mettetelo a letto, e si badi alla sua ferita.
(didascalia)	Escono Ser Toby, Ser Andrew, Feste e Fabiano
(didascalia)	Entra Sebastiano
SEBASTIANO	(a Olivia) Mi dispiace, madonna, d’aver ferito il vostro parente, ma fosse stato il fratello del mio sangue non avrei potuto far di meno, per senno e sicurezza. Voi mi volgete uno strano sguardo, e da ciò m’accorgo che v’ho offesa. Perdonatemi, dolce mia, anche solo per i voti che ci scambiammo poco fa.
ORSINO	Un volto, una voce, un abito, e due persone, una prospettiva naturale, che è e non è.
SEBASTIANO	Antonio! Oh, mio caro Antonio, come m’hanno straziato e torturato le ore da quando t’ho perduto!
ANTONIO	Sebastiano siete voi?
SEBASTIANO	Lo temi, Antonio?
ANTONIO	Come avete fatto divisione di voi stesso? Una mela spaccata in due non è più gemella di queste due creature. Quale è Sebastiano?
OLIVIA	Meravigliosissimo!
SEBASTIANO	(vedendo Viola) Sono io a stare là? Non ho mai avuto un fratello, né può esserci nella mia natura quella divinità d’essere qui e dappertutto. Avevo una sorella, che le cieche onde e i flutti hanno divorata. Per carità, che parentela avete con me? Di che paese? Che nome? Che stirpe?
VIOLA	Di Messaline. Sebastiano era mio padre. Un tale Sebastiano era anche mio fratello. Così vestito andò alla sua tomba d’acqua. Se gli spiriti possono assumere e forma e veste, voi venite a spaventarci.
SEBASTIANO	Uno spirito sono davvero, ma sono in quella dimensione grossamente vestito di cui dal grembo materno ebbi parte. Foste voi donna, giacché il resto combacia, lascerei cadere le mie lacrime sulla vostra guancia e direi: «Tre volte benvenuta, annegata Viola».
VIOLA	Mio padre aveva un neo sulla fronte
SEBASTIANO	E così l’aveva il mio.
VIOLA	E morì il giorno in cui Viola dalla sua nascita aveva contato tredici anni.
SEBASTIANO	Oh, quel ricordo è vivo nella mia anima. Egli compì davvero il suo atto mortale quel giorno che fece mia sorella di tredici anni.
VIOLA	Se nulla impedisce di renderci felici entrambi se non questo mio abito maschile usurpato, non abbracciarmi finché ogni circostanza di luogo, tempo, fortuna non concordi e combaci a dire che io sono Viola; e a conferma di ciò vi condurrò da un capitano in questa città dove giacciono le mie vesti di fanciulla, col cui gentile aiuto fui preservata per servire questo nobile conte. Tutto l’accadere della mia fortuna da allora è stato fra questa dama e questo signore.
SEBASTIANO	(a Olivia) Così avviene, signora, che vi siate ingannata. Ma la natura in ciò tirò secondo la sua inclinazione. Sareste stata promessa a una fanciulla, né in ciò siete, sulla mia vita, delusa. Siete fidanzata insieme a una fanciulla e a un uomo.
ORSINO	(a Olivia) Non stupitevi. Nobilissimo è il suo sangue. Se è così, come finora lo specchio pare veritiero, avrò anch’io parte in questo felicissimo naufragio. (A Viola) Ragazzo, mi hai detto mille volte che non avresti mai amato donna come me.
VIOLA	E tutti quei detti li rigiurerò, e tutti quei giuramenti li terrò veri nell’anima come quel globo che racchiude il fuoco che separa il giorno dalla notte.
ORSINO	Dammi la tua mano, e lascia ch’io ti veda nelle tue vesti di donna.
VIOLA	Il capitano che mi portò dapprima a riva ha le mie vesti di fanciulla. Egli, per una qualche causa, è ora in carcere, su istanza di Malvolio, gentiluomo e seguace della mia signora.
OLIVIA	Lo farà liberare. Conducete qui Malvolio— eppure, ahimè, ora mi sovviene, dicono, poveretto, che sia molto stravolto.
(didascalia)	Entrano Feste il buffone con una lettera, e Fabiano
OLIVIA	Una frenesia che tanto m’ha estraniata ha del tutto bandito la sua dalla mia memoria. Come sta, messere?
FESTE	In verità, madonna, tiene Belzebù a distanza di bastone tanto bene quanto può farlo un uomo nel suo caso. Ecco, v’ha scritto una lettera. Avrei dovuto darvela stamattina. Ma poiché le epistole d’un pazzo non sono vangeli, poco importa quando siano consegnate.
OLIVIA	Apritela e leggetela.
FESTE	Aspettatevi dunque d’essere ben edificata, quando il buffone recita il pazzo. (Legge) «Per il Signore, madonna»—
OLIVIA	Ebbene, sei pazzo?
FESTE	No, madonna, non faccio che leggere follia. Se vostra signoria la vuole come dev’essere, dovete concedermi la vox.
OLIVIA	Ti prego, leggi col tuo giusto senno.
FESTE	Così faccio, madonna, ma leggere il suo giusto senno è leggere così. Perciò ponderate, mia principessa, e porgete orecchio.
OLIVIA	(a Fabiano) Leggetela voi, messere. Feste dà la lettera a Fabiano
FABIANO	(legge) «Per il Signore, madonna, voi mi fate torto, e il mondo lo saprà. Benché m’abbiate messo nella tenebra e dato al vostro cugino ubriaco potere su di me, pure ho il beneficio dei miei sensi bene quanto vostra signoria. Ho la vostra stessa lettera che m’indusse all’apparenza che assunsi, con la quale non dubito di rendere a me molta giustizia o a voi molta vergogna. Pensate di me come vi piace. Lascio un poco da parte il mio dovere, e parlo per l’ingiuria ricevuta. Il pazzamente trattato Malvolio.»
OLIVIA	Ha scritto lui questo?
FESTE	Sì, madonna.
ORSINO	Questo non sa molto di delirio.
OLIVIA	Fatelo liberare, Fabiano, portatelo qui. Mio signore, se vi piace—pensate ancora a queste cose— di stimarmi buona sorella non meno che moglie, un solo giorno coronerà l’alleanza, se vi piace, qui nella mia casa e a mie proprie spese.
ORSINO	Madonna, sono prontissimo ad abbracciare la vostra offerta. (A Viola) Il vostro padrone vi scioglie, e per il servizio resogli tanto contro il temperamento del vostro sesso, tanto al di sotto della vostra dolce e tenera educazione, e poiché m’avete chiamato padrone così a lungo, ecco la mia mano. Sarete da questo tempo in poi la padrona del vostro padrone.
OLIVIA	(a Viola) Una sorella: voi lo siete.
(didascalia)	Entra Malvolio
ORSINO	È questo il pazzo?
OLIVIA	Sì, mio signore, proprio lui. Ebbene, Malvolio?
MALVOLIO	Madonna, voi m’avete fatto torto, notorio torto.
OLIVIA	L’ho fatto, Malvolio? No.
MALVOLIO	(mostrando una lettera) Signora, sì. Vi prego, esaminate quella lettera. Non potete ora negare che sia la vostra scrittura. Scrivete diversamente, se potete, nel tratto o nella frase, o dite che non è il vostro sigillo, non la vostra invenzione. Nulla di questo potete dire. Bene, ammettetelo dunque, e ditemi, nella modestia dell’onore, perché m’avete dato così chiari segni di favore, m’avete ordinato di venire da voi sorridente e con le giarrettiere incrociate, d’indossare calze gialle, e d’accigliarmi con Ser Toby e la gente minore, e, mentre facevo questo in obbediente speranza, perché avete sofferto ch’io fossi imprigionato, tenuto in una casa buia, visitato dal prete, e reso il più notorio zimbello e gonzo su cui mai l’inventiva abbia giocato? Ditemi perché.
OLIVIA	Ahimè, Malvolio, questa non è la mia scrittura, benché confessi che assai le somiglia, ma senza dubbio è la mano di Maria. E ora che ci ripenso, fu lei a dirmi per prima che eri pazzo; poi tu venisti sorridendo, e in quelle forme che qui t’erano state prescritte nella lettera. Ti prego, sii contento; questa burla t’è stata giocata assai maliziosamente, ma quando conosceremo i motivi e gli autori di essa tu sarai insieme l’attore e il giudice della tua propria causa.
FABIANO	Buona madonna, ascoltatemi, e nessuna lite né rissa a venire guasti la condizione di questa presente ora, di cui io mi sono meravigliato. Nella speranza che non avvenga, confesso liberissimamente che io e Toby ordimmo questa burla contro Malvolio qui presente per certi tratti ostinati e scortesi che avevamo concepito contro di lui. Maria scrisse la lettera, per le grandi insistenze di Ser Toby, in ricompensa di che egli l’ha sposata. Con quale scherzosa malizia la cosa sia stata seguìta può provocare piuttosto il riso che la vendetta, se si soppesano giustamente le offese che dall’una e dall’altra parte son corse.
OLIVIA	(a Malvolio) Ahimè, povero sciocco, come t’hanno beffato!
FESTE	Ma via, «Alcuni nascono grandi, alcuni conquistano la grandezza, e ad alcuni la grandezza è gettata addosso». Io ero uno, signore, in questo intermezzo, un certo Ser Topas, signore; ma è tutt’uno. «Per il Signore, buffone, non sono pazzo»—ma vi ricordate? «Madonna, perché ridete di un mascalzone così sterile? Se voi non sorridete, gli si tappa la bocca»—e così il girotondo del tempo porta con sé le sue vendette.
MALVOLIO	Mi vendicherò su tutta la vostra congrega. Esce
OLIVIA	È stato notoriamente abusato.
ORSINO	Inseguitelo, e persuadetelo alla pace. Non ci ha ancora detto del capitano.
(didascalia)	Escono uno o più
ORSINO	Quando ciò sarà noto, e l’aureo tempo ci convocherà, si farà una solenne congiunzione delle nostre care anime. Intanto, dolce sorella, non ci allontaneremo di qui. Cesario, venite— ché tale sarete finché siete uomo; ma quando in altre vesti sarete veduta, padrona d’Orsino, e regina del suo desiderio.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Feste
FESTE	(canta) Quand’io ero un piccolo bambinello, con hey, ho, il vento e la pioggia, una sciocchezza non era che un balocco, ché la pioggia piove ogni giorno. Ma quando giunsi allo stato d’uomo, con hey, ho, il vento e la pioggia, contro bricconi e ladri gli uomini chiusero la porta, ché la pioggia piove ogni giorno. Ma quando venni, ahimè, a prender moglie, con hey, ho, il vento e la pioggia, a fare il gradasso non potei mai prosperare, ché la pioggia piove ogni giorno. Ma quando venni ai miei letti, con hey, ho, il vento e la pioggia, con gli ubriaconi avevo sempre la testa avvinazzata, ché la pioggia piove ogni giorno. Gran tempo fa il mondo cominciò, con hey ho, il vento e la pioggia, ma è tutt’uno, il nostro dramma è finito, e ci sforzeremo di piacervi ogni giorno.
(didascalia)	Esce