Twelfth Night William Shakespeare (best management books of all time TXT) 📖

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.

Duke And what’s her history? Viola

A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i’ the 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.

Duke 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?

Duke

Ay, that’s the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay. Exeunt.

Scene V

Olivia’s garden.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. Sir Toby Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. Fabian Nay, I’ll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir Toby Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? 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. Sir Toby Here comes the little villain. Enter Maria. 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! Lie thou there throws down a letter; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. Exit. Enter Malvolio. Malvolio ’Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on’t? Sir Toby Here’s an overweening rogue! Fabian O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes! Sir Andrew ’Slight, I could so beat the rogue! 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 Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir Andrew Fie on him, Jezebel! Fabian O, peace! now he’s deeply in: look how imagination blows him. 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 for my kinsman Toby⁠— Sir Toby Bolts and shackles! Fabian O peace, peace, peace! now, now. Malvolio Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind up my watch, or play with my⁠—some rich jewel. Toby approaches; courtesies there to me⁠— Sir Toby Shall this fellow live? 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 What employment have we here? Taking up the letter. Fabian Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir Toby O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him! Malvolio By my life, this is my lady’s hand: these be her very c’s, her u’s and her t’s; and thus makes she her great p’s. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. Sir Andrew Her c’s, her u’s and her t’s: why that? Malvolio Reads. “To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes:”⁠—her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: ’tis my lady. To whom should this be? Fabian This wins him, liver and all. Malvolio

Reads.

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

Reads.

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 cheques at it! Malvolio “I may command where I adore.” Why, she may command me: I serve her; she