Act III

Scene I

Olivia's garden

Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabour

Viola

Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by thy tabour?

Clown

No, sir, I live by the church.

Viola

Art thou a churchman?

Clown

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 tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.

Clown

You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a cheveril 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.

Clown

I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.

Viola

Why, man?

Clown

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?

Clown

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.

Clown

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?

Clown

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.

Clown

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines every where. 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.
Hold, there's expenses for thee.

Clown

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;

Aside

though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

Clown

Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?

Viola

Yes, being kept together and put to use.

Clown

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

Viola

I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.

Clown

The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe 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, cheque at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practise
As full of labour as a wise man's art
For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew

Sir Toby Belch

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 Belch

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 Belch

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 Belch

I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

Viola

I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are prevented.

Enter Olivia and Maria

Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

Sir Andrew

That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well.

Viola

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

Sir Andrew

'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 Belch, 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 call'd 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 fill'd 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 the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak.

Viola

I pity you.

Olivia

That's a degree to love.

Viola

No, not a grize; 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 were is alike 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 thinkest 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

O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing,
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 better.

Viola

By innocence I swear, and by my youth
I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam: never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

Olivia

Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

Exeunt