SCENE I.
A Sea-port.
Enter Sebastian and Antonio.
Ant. Will you stay no longer? Nor will you not, that I go with you?
Seb. 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.
Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
Seb. O, good Antonio, pardon me your trouble.
Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.
Seb. 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 Rodorigo; 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.
Ant. Alas, the day!
Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. [He weeps.]
Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.
Seb. 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 Duke Orsino's court, farewell.
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
Seb. Fare ye well.[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Dining-room in Olivia's House.
Sir Toby and Sir Andrew discovered, drinking and smoking.
Sir To. Come, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st——
Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.
Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfill'd can: To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements?
Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.
Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.—Maria, I say!——a stoop of wine!
[The Clown sings without.
[Sir Andrew and Sir Toby rise.
Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.
Enter Clown.
Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three?
Sir To. Welcome, ass.
Sir And. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a voice 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?
Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle ale-houses.
Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.
Sir To. Come on: Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver? Shall we do that?
Sir And. An you love me, let's do 't: I am dog at a catch.
Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Sir And. Begin, fool: it begins—[Sings.] Hold thy peace.
Clo. Hold my peace!—I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.
Sir And. Good, i'faith!—Come, begin:—that, or something else—or what you will.
[They all three sing.
Enter Maria.
Mar. What a catterwauling 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 To. My lady's a Cataian; we are politicians. Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsay:—[Sings.]—And three merry men be we.
Sir And. [Sings.] And three merry men be we.
Sir To. Am I not consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-valley, lady!—[Sings.]—There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!
Sir And. [Sings] Lady——
Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
Sir And. 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. [Sings.] Lady—
Sir To. Let us have another.
[They all three sing and dance.
Mar. For the love of heaven, peace.
Enter Malvolio, in a Gown and Cap, with a Light.
Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you?
Sir And. [Sings.] Monday—
Mal. Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night?
Sir To. [Sings.] Saturday—
Mal. Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you?
Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!
Mal. 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 misdemeanors, 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 To. [Sings.] Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.
Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby.
Clo. [Sings.] His eyes do show his days are almost done.
Mal. Is't even so?
Sir To. [Sings.] But I will never die.
[Falls on the floor.
Clo. [Sings.] Sir Toby—O, Sir Toby—there you lie.
Mal. This is much credit to you.
[Clown raises Sir Toby.
Sir To. [Sings.] You lie.—Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.
Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right.—Go, sir, rub your chain with crums:—A stoop of wine, Maria!
Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule: She shall know of it, by this hand.
[Exit Malvolio, followed by the Clown, mocking him.
Mar. Go shake your ears.
Sir And.