TWELFTH NIGHT:
OR, WHAT YOU WILL

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.
VALENTINE, a gentleman serving the Duke
CURIO, a gentleman serving the Duke
VIOLA, in love with the Duke.
SEBASTIAN, a young gentleman, twin brother to Viola.
A SEA CAPTAIN, friend of Viola
ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend of Sebastian.
OLIVIA, a wealthy countess.
MARIA, Olivia’s maid.
SIR TOBY BELCH, Olivia’s uncle.
SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.
MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia.
FABIAN, a servant to Olivia.
CLOWN, a servant to Olivia.
PRIEST
Lords, sailors, officers, musicians, and other attendants.

Enter Orsino, Duke of Illyria,Curiosity, and other Lords; Musicians attending.

DUKE.
If music is the food of love, play on,
Give me more of it; so much that, indulging,
My desire may get sick and die.
That melody again, it had a fading quality;
Oh, it came to me like the sweet sound
That wafts over a bed of violets,
Taking and giving fragrance. Enough; no more;
It’s not as sweet now as it was before.
Oh spirit of love, how quick and fresh you are,
That despite your ability,
You take in like the sea, nothing stays there,
Whatever worth and essence it may have,
But quickly becomes less valuable
Even in an instant! So full of forms is imagination,
That it alone is extremely whimsical.

CURIO.
Are you going to hunt, my lord?

DUKE.
What is it, Curio?

CURIO.
The deer.

DUKE.
Yes, I do, the finest thing I have.
Oh, when I first saw Olivia,
I thought she cleared the air of all sickness;
In that moment, I turned into a deer,
And my desires, like fierce and merciless hounds,
Have been chasing me ever since. So, what’s the latest from her?

Enter Valentine.

VALENTINE.
So please, my lord, I might not be allowed in,
But from her maid, I return this message:
The very nature of her situation, until the heat of seven years,
Will not allow her to show her face completely;
But like a nun, she will walk around veiled,
And once a day she will wet her room
With tear-inducing saltwater: all this to preserve
A brother’s lost love, which she wants to keep alive
And memorable in her sorrowful thoughts.

DUKE.
Oh, she who has a heart so finely made
To repay this debt of love only to a brother,
How deeply will she love when the rich golden arrow
Has struck down all other feelings that exist
Within her; when her liver, brain, and heart,
These ruling thrones, are all taken up and filled
With one sole king of her sweet qualities!
Away from me to lovely beds of flowers,
Thoughts of love thrive when sheltered by canopies.

[Leave the stage.]

Enter Viola, a Captain and crew.

VIOLA.
What country is this, friends?

CAPTAIN.
This is Illyria, ma'am.

VIOLA.
What am I supposed to do in Illyria?
My brother is in Elysium.
Maybe he isn't drowned. What do you think, sailors?

CAPTAIN.
Maybe you saved yourself.

VIOLA.
Oh my poor brother! He might just be that way.

CAPTAIN.
It's true, ma'am; and to reassure you with chance,
Know that after our ship was wrecked,
When you and the few others who were rescued with you
Were clinging to our drifting boat, I saw your brother,
Being wise in danger, tie himself,
(Courage and hope both teaching him how)
To a strong mast that was floating in the sea;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back,
I saw him interact with the waves
As long as I could see.

VIOLA.
For saying that, here’s some gold!
My own escape opens up to my hopes,
To which your words give me confidence,
Just like him. Do you know this country?

CAPTAIN.
Yeah, ma'am, well, I was born and raised
Not three hours' journey from right here.

VIOLA.
Who’s in charge here?

CAPTAIN.
A noble duke, both in character and in title.

VIOLA.
What's his name?

CAPTAIN.
Orsino.

VIOLA.
Orsino! I’ve heard my father mention him.
He was single back then.

CAPTAIN.
And that's how it is now, or was just recently;
Because a month ago I left here,
And back then it was the talk of the town, (as you know,
What the important people do, the others will gossip about)
That he was trying to win the love of beautiful Olivia.

What is she?

CAPTAIN.
A virtuous young woman, the daughter of a count
Who passed away a year ago; he left her
Under the care of his son, her brother,
Who soon also died; for his beloved memory,
They say she has renounced the company
And presence of men.

VIOLA.
Oh, how I wish I served that lady,
And could be kept away from the world,
Until I had made my situation clear,
About what my circumstances are.

CAPTAIN.
That would be difficult to achieve,
Because she won’t accept any kind of proposal,
Not even from the Duke.

VIOLA.
You’ve got a good vibe about you, Captain;
And even though nature can sometimes hide ugliness behind a beautiful surface, I believe you have a mind that matches
your lovely exterior.
I ask you, and I’ll reward you generously,
Help me hide my true identity and support me
in creating a disguise that fits my purpose. I’ll serve this duke;
You’ll introduce me to him as a eunuch.
It could be worth your effort; I can sing,
and I can communicate with him in various styles of music,
which should make me valuable to him.
Whatever else happens, I’ll leave to fate;
Just make sure your silence aligns with my cleverness.

CAPTAIN.
You can be his eunuch, and I'll be your mute;
When I speak out loud, then let my eyes be blind.

VIOLA.
Thank you. Please, lead the way.

[Exit.]

Enter Sir Toby and Maria.

SIR TOBY.
What's wrong with my niece for taking her brother's death like this? I'm sure worrying is an enemy to living.

MARIA.
Honestly, Sir Toby, you need to come in earlier at night; your cousin, my lady, is very upset about your late hours.

SIR TOBY.
Well, let her take an exception, before the exception is made.

MARIA.
Yes, but you have to stick to the reasonable boundaries of order.

SIR TOBY.
Confine myself? I won’t limit myself any more than I already am. These clothes are good enough to drink in, and these boots work just as well; if not, they can just hang themselves in their own straps.

MARIA.
Drinking like that will get you in trouble: I heard my lady mention it yesterday; and about a foolish knight that you brought in one night to court her.

SIR TOBY.
Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

MARIA.
Yeah, him.

SIR TOBY.
He’s as tall as any guy in Illyria.

MARIA.
What's that got to do with anything?

SIR TOBY.
Well, he makes three thousand ducats a year.

MARIA.
Oh, but he’ll only have a year with all this money. He’s a total fool and a wasteful spender.

SIR TOBY.
Come on, don't say that! He plays the viola da gamba and speaks three or four languages fluently without needing a script, and he has all the natural talents.

MARIA.
He really is almost like a natural fool: because besides being an idiot, he's a huge troublemaker; and if it weren't for his cowardice that keeps him from fully engaging in fights, people think he would be in a grave by now.

SIR TOBY.
By this hand, they are worthless liars who say that about him. Who are they?

MARIA.
They also say that he's been drinking with you every night.

SIR TOBY.
I’ll drink to my niece’s health; I’ll keep drinking for her as long as I can swallow, and drink up in Illyria. Anyone who won’t toast to my niece until they’re completely out of it is a coward and a fool. What’s up, girl! Castiliano vulgo: here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

Enter Sir Andrew.

AGUECHEEK.
Sir Toby Belch! What’s up, Sir Toby Belch?

Sweet Sir Andrew!

SIR ANDREW.
Bless you, beautiful shrew.

MARIA.
And you too, dude.

SIR TOBY.
Approach, Sir Andrew, approach.

SIR ANDREW.
What's that?

SIR TOBY.
My niece's maid.

SIR ANDREW.
Hello, Mistress Accost, I'd like to get to know you better.

My name is Mary, sir.

SIR ANDREW.
Hello, Mistress Mary Accost,—

SIR TOBY.
You're mistaken, knight: to accost her means to approach her, to court her, to pursue her.

SIR ANDREW.
Honestly, I wouldn’t approach her in this group. Is that what “accost” means?

Take care, gentlemen.

SIR TOBY.
If you let it go like that, Sir Andrew, I hope you never have to draw your sword again.

SIR ANDREW.
If you're leaving like this, my lady, I wish I’d never have to fight again. Do you really think you can handle fools?

MARIA.
Sir, I don’t have your hand.

SIR ANDREW.
Sure, you'll get it, and here's my hand.

MARIA.
Now, sir, thinking is free. I ask you, bring your hand to the bar and have a drink.

SIR ANDREW.
Why, sweetheart? What's your metaphor?

MARIA.
It's dry, sir.

SIR ANDREW.
Well, I think so; I'm not that foolish—I can keep my hands dry. But what's your joke?

MARIA.
A dry joke, sir.

SIR ANDREW.
Are you filled with them?

MARIA.
Yes, sir, I have them under control: but as soon as I let go of your hand, I'm lost.

[Exit Maria.]

SIR TOBY.
Oh knight, you need a glass of canary: When did I last see you so down?

SIR ANDREW.
I don't think you'll ever see me act that way unless you're talking about a canary. Sometimes I feel like I have no more sense than any other regular person; but I eat a lot of beef, and I think that’s bad for my thinking.

SIR TOBY.
Definitely.

SIR ANDREW.
I thought I’d give it up. I’ll head home tomorrow, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY.
Why, my dear knight?

SIR ANDREW.
What’s the point? Should I do something or not? I wish I had spent that time learning languages instead of fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. Oh, if only I had pursued the arts!

SIR TOBY.
Then you would have had an amazing head of hair.

SIR ANDREW.
Really, would that have fixed my hair?

SIR TOBY.
No question about it; you can see it won't curl naturally.

SIR ANDREW.
But it suits me pretty well, doesn’t it?

SIR TOBY.
Great, it hangs like fiber on a spinning wheel; and I hope to see a housewife take you between her legs and spin it off.

SIR ANDREW.
Honestly, I’m going home tomorrow, Sir Toby; your niece won’t be around, and if she is, it’s four to one she won’t want anything to do with me; the Count is nearby trying to win her over.

SIR TOBY.
She won’t have the Count; she won’t marry someone above her social status, age, or intelligence; I’ve heard her say it. Come on, there’s still hope, man.

SIR ANDREW.
I’ll stick around for another month. I have the strangest mind in the world; sometimes I really enjoy parties and celebrations all at once.

SIR TOBY.
Are you good at these tricks, knight?

SIR ANDREW.
Like any guy in Illyria, no matter who he is, as long as he’s not above me; but still, I won’t compare myself to an old man.

SIR TOBY.
What's your skill in a galliard, knight?

SIR ANDREW.
Honestly, I can groove.

SIR TOBY.
And I can slice the meat for it.

SIR ANDREW.
And I think I have the backflip just as strong as any guy in Illyria.

SIR TOBY.
Why are these things hidden? Why do these gifts have a curtain in front of them? Are they going to collect dust, like Mistress Mall’s painting? Why don’t you go to church in a lively dance and come back in a fancy step? My very walk should be a dance; I wouldn’t even go to the bathroom without doing a little groove. What do you mean? Is this a place to hide good qualities? I thought, by the amazing shape of your leg, that it was made under the influence of a lively dance.

SIR ANDREW.
Yeah, it’s strong, and it does pretty well in a damn-colored stock. Should we get started on some festivities?

SIR TOBY.
What else should we do? Weren't we born under Taurus?

SIR ANDREW.
Taurus? That’s about sides and the heart.

SIR TOBY.
No, man, it’s all about the legs and thighs. Show me your dance moves. Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent!

[Exit.]

Enter Valentine and Viola in men's clothing.

VALENTINE.
If the duke keeps showing you these favors, Cesario, you’re likely to get ahead; he’s only known you for three days, and you’re already not a stranger.

VIOLA.
Are you questioning his love because you either fear his sense of humor or my carelessness? Is he inconsistent in his affections, sir?

VALENTINE.
No, trust me.

Enter Duke, Curio and Guests.

VIOLA.
Thank you. Here comes the Count.

DUKE.
Who saw Cesario?

VIOLA.
It's great to see you here, my lord.

DUKE.
Wait here for a moment.—Cesario,
You know everything; I’ve opened up
My innermost thoughts to you.
So, good young man, make your way to her,
Don’t let anyone stop you, wait at her door,
And let them know that you’ll stay there
Until you get to speak with her.

VIOLA.
Of course, my noble lord,
If she’s so consumed by her sadness
As they say, she will never let me in.

DUKE.
Be noisy and break all social boundaries,
Rather than make a pointless comeback.

VIOLA.
If I do talk to her, my lord, then what?

DUKE.
Then share the depth of my love,
Amaze her with words about my true faith;
It will suit you well to express my sorrows;
She'll respond better to your youth,
Than to an envoy with a more serious demeanor.

VIOLA.
I don't think so, my lord.

DUKE.
Listen, my friend, believe me;
They will still deny your happy years,
Those who say you’re a man: Diana’s lips
Are not smoother or redder than yours; your small voice
Is just like a girl’s, high and clear,
And everything resembles a woman’s role.
I know your star is perfectly suited
For this situation. There are about four or five with him:
All if you want; because I do best
When I’m least around others. Do well in this,
And you will live as freely as your lord,
To claim his fortunes as your own.

VIOLA.
I'll do my best
To win your lady. [Aside.] But what a complicated situation!
Whoever I pursue, I would actually want to be his wife.

[Exit.]

Enter Maria and Clown.

MARIA.
No; either tell me where you've been, or I won't open my mouth wide enough for a bristle to get in, as an excuse: my lady will have you hanged for your absence.

CLOWN.
Let her hang me: someone who is well hanged in this world doesn’t need to fear anything.

Maria, make that good.

CLOWN.
He will see no one to fear.

MARIA.
That's a good Lenten response. I can tell you where that saying came from, of I fear no colors.

CLOWN.
Where are you, good Mistress Mary?

MARIA.
In the wars, and you can confidently say that in your foolishness.

CLOWN.
Well, may God give wisdom to those who have it; and let those who are foolish use their talents.

MARIA.
But you'll be hanged for being away so long; or to be rejected—doesn't that feel just as bad as a hanging to you?

CLOWN.
A lot of good hangings stop bad marriages; and as for turning away, let summer take care of that.

MARIA.
So you're determined then?

CLOWN.
Not really, but I’m set on two things.

MARIA.
That if one breaks, the other will hold; or if both break, your leggings fall.

CLOWN.
You're spot on, really! Anyway, go ahead; if Sir Toby would stop drinking, you'd be as clever as any woman in Illyria.

MARIA.
Calm down, you trickster, that's enough of that. Here comes my lady: think carefully about your excuse, you'd better.

[Leave.]

Enter Olivia with Malvolio.

CLOWN.
Hey, if it’s your will, make me a good fool! Those who think they’re clever often end up looking foolish; and since I know I’m not clever, I can come off as a wise man. What does Quinapalus say? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless you, lady!

OLIVIA.
Get rid of the idiot.

CLOWN.
Don’t you hear, guys? Take the lady away.

OLIVIA.
Come on, you're such a boring fool; I'm done with you. Plus, you're getting deceitful.

CLOWN.
There are two problems, madonna, that drinking and good advice can fix: if you give the dry fool a drink, then he’s no longer dry; tell the dishonest man to improve himself, and if he does, he’s no longer dishonest; if he can’t, let the handyman fix him. Anything that’s fixed is just patched up; virtue that strays is just patched with sin, and sin that improves is just patched with virtue. If this simple point works, great; if not, what can you do? Just like there’s no true cuckold without misfortune, beauty is just a flower. The lady asked to remove the fool, so once again, I say, take her away.

OLIVIA.
Sir, I told them to take you away.

CLOWN.
This is serious ignorance! Lady, the robe doesn’t make the monk: that means I don’t think foolishly just because I’m dressed this way. Please, let me show you that you’re being foolish.

OLIVIA.
Can you handle it?

Clown.
Skillfully, good lady.

OLIVIA.
Provide your proof.

CLOWN.
I need to question you about it, ma'am. Please, my little beacon of goodness, answer me.

OLIVIA.
Well, sir, since I have nothing better to do, I'll wait for your proof.

CLOWN.
Good lady, why are you sad?

OLIVIA.
Good fool, about my brother’s death.

CLOWN.
I think his soul is in hell, lady.

OLIVIA.
I know his soul is in heaven, you fool.

CLOWN.
You're such a fool, lady, to grieve for your brother's soul in heaven. Get rid of the fool, gentlemen.

OLIVIA.
What do you think of this fool, Malvolio? Is he getting any better?

MALVOLIO.
Yes; and will keep doing so until the pains of death shake him. Weakness, which wears down the wise, always makes the fool even better.

CLOWN.
God grant you, sir, a quick illness, so you can enhance your foolishness! Sir Toby will swear that I’m not a fox; but he won’t promise even two cents that you aren’t a fool.

OLIVIA.
What do you think about that, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO.
I'm amazed you enjoy the company of such a dull fool; I saw him taken down the other day by a regular jester, who has no more sense than a rock. Just look at him, he's already lost his composure; unless you laugh and give him a reason to act, he’s speechless. I honestly think these so-called wise men, who boast about these types of fools, are just as foolish as their sidekicks.

OLIVIA.
Oh, you're tired of your own ego, Malvolio, and you're judging things with a skewed perspective. Being generous, innocent, and open-minded means you see what you think are cannonballs as harmless arrows. There's no offense in a permitted fool, even if he only criticizes; and there's no criticism from a wise person, even if he only corrects.

CLOWN.
Now Mercury give you the gift of exaggeration, because you talk nicely about idiots!

Enter Maria.

MARIA.
Ma'am, there's a young man at the gate who really wants to talk to you.

OLIVIA.
Is it from Count Orsino?

MARIA.
I don't know, ma'am; it's a handsome young man, and he's well taken care of.

OLIVIA.
Who in my group is keeping him waiting?

MARIA.
Sir Toby, your cousin.

OLIVIA.
Get him away from me, please; he talks only nonsense. Ugh!

[Exit Maria.]

Go ahead, Malvolio. If it's a message from the Count, I’m either unwell or not at home. Do whatever you need to dismiss it.

[Exit Malvolio.]

Now you see, sir, how your joking gets old, and people don’t like it.

CLOWN.
You’ve spoken for us, madam, as if your oldest son should be a fool: may Jove fill his head with brains, for here he comes, one of your relatives has a very weak pia mater.

Enter Sir Toby.

OLIVIA.
Honestly, I'm half drunk. What's going on with him at the gate, cousin?

SIR TOBY.
A guy.

OLIVIA.
A guy? What guy?

SIR TOBY.
It's a gentleman here. What a nuisance these pickled herring are! What's up, drunkard?

Clown.
Good Sir Toby.

OLIVIA.
Cousin, cousin, how did you get here so early in this state of sluggishness?

SIR TOBY.
Lust! I reject lust. There's someone at the gate.

OLIVIA.
Oh, come on, what is he?

SIR TOBY.
Let him be the devil if he wants, I don’t care: just give me faith, I say. Well, it’s all the same.

[Log out.]

OLIVIA.
What’s a drunk guy like, idiot?

CLOWN.
Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one drink makes him a fool, the second drives him insane, and a third drowns him.

OLIVIA.
Go find the coroner and let him take care of my cousin; he's really drunk, he's out cold. Go check on him.

CLOWN.
He's a bit crazy still, my lady; and the fool will pay attention to the madman.

[Exit Clown.]

Enter Malvolio.

MALVOLIO.
Madam, that young guy insists he wants to talk to you. I told him you were sick; he thinks he knows better, and that’s why he’s here to see you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to have known that as well, which is why he’s come to speak with you. What should I say to him, lady? He’s ready for any rejection.

OLIVIA.
Tell him he can't talk to me.

MALVOLIO.
He’s been told that, and he says he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff’s post and be the one to back you up, but he wants to talk to you.

OLIVIA.
What kind of man is he?

MALVOLIO.
Why, of humanity.

OLIVIA.
What kind of man?

MALVOLIO.
He's really rude; he'll talk to you whether you like it or not.

OLIVIA.
What is his age and what does he look like?

MALVOLIO.
Not quite old enough to be a man, but too old to be a boy; like a squash before it becomes a pea pod, or a young apple when it’s not quite ripe. He’s stuck in the middle, between being a boy and a man. He’s quite good-looking, but he talks in a really nasty way. You’d think he had barely stopped drinking his mother’s milk.

OLIVIA.
Let him come closer. Call in my maid.

Malvolio.
Lady wants to see you.

[Log out.]

Enter Maria.

OLIVIA.
Give me my veil; come, put it over my face.
We’ll hear Orsino’s message one more time.

Enter Viola.

VIOLA.
Which lady of the house is the honorable one?

OLIVIA.
Talk to me; I’ll speak on her behalf. What do you want?

VIOLA.
Most radiant, stunning, and unmatched beauty—I ask you, is this the lady of the house? I’ve never seen her before. I would hate to waste my words; not only is it beautifully written, but I’ve also worked hard to memorize it. Lovely ladies, please don’t be cruel; I’m very sensitive, even to the slightest bit of unkindness.

OLIVIA.
Where did you come from, sir?

VIOLA.
I can say very little more than that I've thought about this, and I'm not really supposed to answer that question. Kind sir, please give me some assurance that if you are the lady of the house, I can go on with what I want to say.

OLIVIA.
Are you a stand-up?

VIOLA.
No, my sincere heart: and yet, I swear by the very teeth of spite, I am not who I pretend to be. Are you the lady of the house?

OLIVIA.
If I don’t take over myself, I exist.

VIOLA.
Definitely, if you’re her, you’re taking the credit for yourself; because what you have to give isn’t yours to keep. But this is part of my task. I will continue my speech praising you, and then reveal the core of my message.

OLIVIA.
Let's get to what's really important: I forgive you for the compliments.

VIOLA.
Oh no, I really worked hard to understand it, and it is poetic.

OLIVIA.
It’s more likely to be fake; please keep it to yourself. I heard you were sassy at my gates, and I let you come in more to be curious about you than to listen to you. If you’re crazy, just leave; if you have something to say, be quick: it’s not the right time for me to engage in such a playful conversation.

MARIA.
Will you raise the sail, sir? Here's your route.

VIOLA.
No, good swabber, I'm just going to hang around here a bit longer. A little comfort for your giant, sweet lady. Let me know what you're thinking. I'm a messenger.

OLIVIA.
Sure, you have something really unpleasant to share, given how scary it is to talk about. Go ahead and say what you need to say.

VIOLA.
It’s only about what you want to hear. I’m not bringing any warning of war or demands for tribute; I’m holding an olive branch: my words are as peaceful as can be.

OLIVIA.
But you started off quite rude. Who are you? What do you want?

VIOLA.
The rudeness in me has come from my experiences. What I am and what I desire are as secret as a virgin's honor: to you, divine; to anyone else, sacrilege.

OLIVIA.
Leave us alone in this place: we want to hear this divine presence.

[Exit Maria.]

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VIOLA.
Most lovely lady—

OLIVIA.
It's a cozy belief, and there's a lot to be said about it. Where's your text?

VIOLA.
In Orsino’s heart.

OLIVIA.
In his chest? In what part of his chest?

VIOLA.
To respond by the method, in the first of his heart.

OLIVIA.
Oh, I’ve read it; it’s heresy. Do you have nothing else to say?

VIOLA.
Please, ma'am, let me see your face.

OLIVIA.
Do you have any orders from your lord to flirt with me? You're off script now, but let's pull back the curtain and show you the real deal. [Unveiling.] Look, sir, this is what I looked like just now. Isn't it well done?

VIOLA.
Well done, if God did everything.

OLIVIA.
It's made of fabric, sir; it will withstand wind and rain.

VIOLA.
It’s real beauty mixed together, with red and white
That Nature’s own sweet and skillful hand created.
Lady, you’re the cruelest person alive
If you let these qualities die,
And leave the world without a copy.

OLIVIA.
Oh, sir, I won’t be so cold-hearted; I’ll share different details about my beauty. Everything will be listed and labeled according to my preference: like, item, two lips a nice shade of red; item, two grey eyes with eyelids; item, one neck, one chin, and so on. Were you sent here to compliment me?

VIOLA.
I see who you are; you're too proud.
But even if you were the devil, you'd still be attractive.
My lord and master loves you. Oh, such love
Could only be matched if you were crowned
The absolute best in beauty!

OLIVIA.
How does he love me?

VIOLA.
With worship, tears that flow,
With groans that echo love, with passionate sighs.

OLIVIA.
Your lord knows how I feel; I can't love him:
But I think he's virtuous, I know he's noble,
From a wealthy family, young and pure;
Well-spoken, open, educated, and brave,
And in build and appearance,
He’s a charming person. But still, I can't love him.
He could have figured that out a long time ago.

VIOLA.
If I loved you the way my master does,
With that kind of pain, that kind of miserable life,
In your rejection, I wouldn't make any sense,
I just wouldn't get it.

OLIVIA.
Why, what would you do?

VIOLA.
Build me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call out to my soul from inside;
Write heartfelt verses of rejected love,
And sing them loudly even in the middle of the night;
Honor your name to the echoing hills,
And let the whispering breeze
Cry out Olivia! Oh, you shouldn't find peace
Between the realms of air and earth,
But you should feel for me.

OLIVIA.
You could achieve a lot.
What’s your background?

VIOLA.
Above my circumstances, but I'm doing okay:
I'm a gentleman.

OLIVIA.
Go to your lord;
I can't love him: let him not send anymore,
Unless, maybe, you come to me again,
To tell me how he feels about it. Take care:
I appreciate your efforts: spend this for me.

VIOLA.
I’m not a messenger for hire, lady; keep your money;
It’s my master who needs payment, not me.
May love turn his heart to stone if you’re going to love him,
And let your passion be held in disregard like my master’s.
Goodbye, beautiful cruelty.

[Logout.]

OLIVIA.
What’s your background?
‘Above my luck, but my status is good:
I’m a gentleman.’ I’ll swear you are;
Your words, your face, your body, actions, and spirit,
All show you have five times the charm. Not so fast: wait, wait!
Unless the master is the man. What’s this?
Can one really catch the plague so quickly?
I feel this young man’s qualities
Sneaking in through my eyes. Well, let it be.
Hey, Malvolio!

Enter Malvolio.

MALVOLIO.
Here, ma'am, at your service.

OLIVIA.
Chase after that annoying messenger,
The Count's guy: he left this ring behind,
Whether I want it or not; tell him I don’t want it.
Don’t let him flatter his lord,
Or keep him hanging on with false hopes; I’m not interested in him.
If the young man comes this way tomorrow,
I’ll explain my reasons then. Hurry up, Malvolio.

MALVOLIO.
Sure, Madam.

[Log out.]

OLIVIA.
I don’t know what I’m doing, and I'm afraid to discover
That my eyes flatter me more than my mind does.
Fate, show your power; we don’t control ourselves.
What’s meant to happen will happen; let it be so!

[Log out.]

Enter Antonio and Sebastian.

ANTONIO.
Are you not staying longer? And you don't want me to come with you?

SEBASTIAN.
Honestly, no; my destiny is not in my favor right now, and my bad luck might affect you too. So, I ask you to let me deal with my problems on my own. It wouldn't be fair to burden you with any of them, especially after all your love.

ANTONIO.
Let me know where you are headed.

SEBASTIAN.
No, really, sir; my determined journey is just foolishness. But I see in you such a remarkable touch of humility that you won't force me to reveal what I'm willing to keep to myself. So, it's only polite that I express myself. You should know that my name is Sebastian, as I called Roderigo; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you’ve heard of. He left behind me and a sister, both born at the same time. If the heavens had been kind, we would have ended that way! But you, sir, changed that, because just an hour before you rescued me from the sea, my sister drowned.

ANTONIO.
Oh no!

SEBASTIAN.
A lady, sir, who, although people said she looked a lot like me, was still considered beautiful by many. Even though I can't quite believe that to such an astonishing degree, I will confidently say this: she had a spirit that anyone would find admirable. She's already drowned, sir, in salt water, but it feels like I'm drowning her memory again with more.

ANTONIO.
Sorry, sir, for the poor performance.

SEBASTIAN.
Oh, good Antonio, I'm sorry for giving you this trouble.

ANTONIO.
If you won’t kill me for my love, let me be your servant.

SEBASTIAN.
If you won't take back what you've done, meaning if you won't kill the person you just saved, then don't even mention it. Goodbye for now; my heart is full of kindness, and I'm still so much like my mother that just a little more and my eyes will give everything away. I'm headed to Count Orsino's court: goodbye.

[Log out.]

ANTONIO.
May all the kindness of the gods be with you!
I have a lot of enemies in Orsino’s court,
Otherwise, I would have seen you there soon:
But no matter what happens, I love you so much,
That danger will feel like a game, and I will go.

[Leave.]

Enter Viola; Malvolio through various doors.

MALVOLIO.
Weren't you just with Countess Olivia?

VIOLA.
Even now, sir; I’ve just made it here at a moderate pace.

MALVOLIO.
She’s returning this ring to you, sir; you could have saved me the trouble by taking it yourself. She also adds that you should make your lord seriously understand that she wants nothing to do with him. And one more thing, don’t be bold enough to get involved in his matters again, unless it’s to tell him she accepted this. Take it that way.

VIOLA.
She took the ring from me: I don’t want it.

MALVOLIO.
Come on, sir, you threw it to her in annoyance, and she wants it back that way. If it's worth picking up, it's right there in your sight; if not, let whoever finds it have it.

[Leave.]

VIOLA.
I didn't leave a ring with her; what does this lady mean?
God forbid my looks haven't charmed her!
She really took a good look at me, so much,
That I thought her eyes had stolen her voice,
Because she spoke in fits and starts, so distractedly.
She loves me for sure; the cleverness of her feelings
Invites me through this rude messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Well, he didn’t send her any.
I am the man; if it is as it seems,
Poor lady, she'd be better off loving a dream.
Disguise, I see, you're a wicked thing
Wherein the crafty enemy does much damage.
How easy it is for the pretty false
To set their forms in women's soft hearts!
Alas, our weakness is to blame, not us,
For what we're made of is what we truly are.
How will this turn out? My master loves her deeply,
And I, poor creature, am just as fond of him,
And she, confused, seems to have a crush on me.
What will happen now? As I am a man,
My situation is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am a woman (oh, what a day!),
What hopeless sighs will poor Olivia let out?
Oh time, you must unravel this, not me,
It’s too hard a knot for me to untie!

[Leave.]

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

SIR TOBY.
Come here, Sir Andrew; being up after midnight means you should be getting up early; and diluculo surgere, you know that.

SIR ANDREW.
No, honestly, I don't know; but I do know that being up late means being up late.

SIR TOBY.
That's a wrong conclusion; I hate it like an empty can. Staying up past midnight and then going to bed is early: so going to bed after midnight is actually going to bed early. Don't our lives consist of the four elements?

SIR ANDREW.
Honestly, that's what they say, but I think it mostly comes down to eating and drinking.

SIR TOBY.
You're a scholar; let's eat and drink then.
Marian, I say! A glass of wine.

Enter Clown.

SIR ANDREW.
Here comes the idiot, seriously.

CLOWN.
Hey there, my friends! Have you ever seen the picture of “we three”?

SIR TOBY.
Welcome, you fool. Now let’s have a chat.

SIR ANDREW.
Honestly, the fool has an amazing voice. I would trade more than forty shillings for a leg like his and a sweet voice to sing like he has. Seriously, you were really funny last night when you talked about Pigrogromitus and the Vapians crossing the equinox of Queubus; it was really good, I swear. I sent you sixpence for your lady friend. Did you get it?

CLOWN.
I did make your gratitude my business; for Malvolio’s nose is not a whipping stick. My lady has a fair hand, and the Myrmidons are not just taverns.

SIR ANDREW.
Awesome! This is the best fun, when it comes down to it. Now, let's sing a song.

SIR TOBY.
Come on, here’s sixpence for you. Let’s hear a song.

SIR ANDREW.
There's a testril of me too: if one knight gives a—

CLOWN.
Would you like a love song or a feel-good song?

A love song, a love song.

SIR ANDREW.
Yeah, I don't care about living well.

CLOWN. [sings.]
  Oh, my lady, where are you wandering?
  Oh, stay and listen, your true love is here,
    Who can sing both high and low.
  Don’t go any further, my lovely.
  Journeys end when lovers meet,
    Every wise guy knows this.

SIR ANDREW.
Very good, I swear.

SIR TOBY.
Great, great.

CLOWN.
  What is love? It’s not on the horizon,
  Right now, joy brings laughter.
    What’s coming is still uncertain.
  There’s no abundance in waiting,
  So come kiss me, sweet and young.
    Youth is something that won’t last.

SIR ANDREW.
A smooth voice, as I am a true knight.

SIR TOBY.
A contagious laugh.

SIR ANDREW.
Very sweet and infectious, I swear.

SIR TOBY.
To hear it through the nose, it's sweetly infectious. But shall we really make the heavens dance? Shall we wake the night owl with a tune that can pull three spirits out of one weaver? Shall we do that?

SIR ANDREW.
And you love me, let’s go for it: I’m terrible at picking up on signals.

CLOWN.
By my lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

SIR ANDREW.
Absolutely. Let's go with, "You scoundrel."

CLOWN.
"Be quiet, you scoundrel knight? I guess I'll have to call you a scoundrel, knight.

SIR ANDREW.
It's not the first time someone has had to call me a knave. Go ahead, fool; it starts with “Shut up.”

CLOWN.
I’ll never get started if I stay quiet.

SIR ANDREW.
Alright, for real! Let’s get started.

Catch the song.

Enter Maria.

MARIA.
What a racket you keep making here! If my lady hasn’t summoned her steward Malvolio and told him to throw you out, then don’t believe me.

SIR TOBY.
My lady’s from the East, we’re strategists, Malvolio’s a fool, and [Sings.] We’re three jolly fellows. Aren’t I related by blood? Am I not part of her family? Nonsense! “Lady”! There lived a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.

CLOWN.
Curse me, the knight's really good at being a fool.

SIR ANDREW.
Yeah, he does it well enough if he wants to, and so do I; he does it with more style, but I do it more naturally.

SIR TOBY.
[Sings.] On the twelfth day of December—

MARIA.
For the love of God, be quiet!

Enter Malvolio.

MALVOLIO.
My masters, are you crazy? What are you doing? Do you have no sense, manners, or honesty, that you chatter like tradesmen at this time of night? Are you turning my lady’s house into a pub, singing your silly songs with no thought or remorse? Is there no respect for the place, the people, or the time?

SIR TOBY.
We were on beat, sir, in our songs. Sneck up!

MALVOLIO.
Sir Toby, I need to be straightforward with you. My lady asked me to tell you that, even though she takes you in as her relative, she has no connection to your bad behavior. If you can distance yourself from your wrongdoings, you're welcome in the house; if not, and if you'd prefer to leave her, she's more than happy to say goodbye.

SIR TOBY.
[Sings.] Goodbye, my dear, since I have to leave.

MARIA.
No, good Sir Toby.

CLOWN.
[Sings.] His eyes reveal that his time is almost up.

MALVOLIO.
Is it really?

SIR TOBY.
[Sings.] But I'm never going to die.

CLOWN.
[Sings.] Sir Toby, there you are.

MALVOLIO.
This is a great compliment to you.

SIR TOBY.
[Sings.] Should I tell him to leave?

CLOWN.
[Sings.] What if you do?

SIR TOBY.
[Sings.] Should I tell him to leave without holding back?

CLOWN.
[Sings.] Oh, no, no, no, no, you can't do that.

SIR TOBY.
Out of tune? Sir, you're lying. Are you anything more than a steward? Do you think that just because you’re virtuous, there won’t be any more cake and ale?

CLOWN.
Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger will be spicy in the mouth too.

SIR TOBY.
You're right. Go ahead, sir, wipe your chain with crumbs. A glass of wine, Maria!

MALVOLIO.
Mistress Mary, if you valued my lady's favor at all instead of disrespect, you wouldn't allow this rude behavior; she'll hear about it from me.

[Log Out.]

MARIA.
Go shake it off.

SIR ANDREW.
It would be just as good to drink when a man is hungry, to challenge him to a duel, and then to go back on your word and make a fool of him.

SIR TOBY.
Don't, knight. I'll write you a challenge, or I'll tell him how angry you are in person.

MARIA.
Sweet Sir Toby, just be patient for tonight. Since the Count's young man was with my lady today, she's quite upset. As for Monsieur Malvolio, leave him to me. If I can’t trick him into saying something silly and turn him into a source of entertainment, then don't think I have the smarts to sleep soundly in my bed. I know I can do it.

SIR TOBY.
Come on, come on, tell us something about him.

MARIA.
Well, sir, sometimes he acts like a bit of a Puritan.

SIR ANDREW.
Oh, if I thought that, I’d beat him like a dog.

SIR TOBY.
What, just for being a Puritan? Your amazing reasoning, dear knight?

SIR ANDREW.
I don't have a fancy reason for it, but I've got a good enough one.

MARIA.
He's no Puritan at all, just someone who lives for the moment, a pretentious fool who acts like he knows what he's doing without any real knowledge and speaks in long-winded phrases; he’s so convinced of his own greatness, crammed with what he believes are virtues, that he thinks everyone who sees him must love him. And it’s that very flaw in him that will give me a perfect reason to take my revenge.

SIR TOBY.
What will you do?

MARIA.
I'll leave him some hidden love letters that will describe him perfectly through the color of his beard, the shape of his leg, the way he walks, and the expression in his eyes, forehead, and skin tone. I can write just like your niece; on a forgotten topic, it’s hard to tell our handwriting apart.

SIR TOBY.
Great! I sense a plan.

SIR ANDREW.
I have it in my nose too.

SIR TOBY.
He'll believe, from the letters you drop, that they’re from my niece and that she’s in love with him.

MARIA.
My purpose is definitely that kind of thing.

SIR ANDREW.
And your horse would make him a fool.

MARIA.
Yeah, I don't doubt that.

SIR ANDREW.
Oh, that will be amazing!

MARIA.
It's going to be a great plan, I promise you. I know my remedy will work on him. I'll set you two up and let the fool be a third wheel, where he'll find the letter. Pay attention to how he reacts to it. For tonight, let's go to bed and dream about what will happen. Goodbye.

[Leave.]

Good night, Penthesilea.

SIR ANDREW.
In my eyes, she’s a great girl.

SIR TOBY.
She's a purebred beagle, and she really loves me. So what?

SIR ANDREW.
I was loved once too.

SIR TOBY.
Let’s head to bed, knight. You should send for more money.

SIR ANDREW.
If I can't win your niece back, I'm in deep trouble.

SIR TOBY.
Get some money, knight; if you don’t have her by the end, call me a fool.

SIR ANDREW.
If I don't, you can never trust me, take it however you want.

SIR TOBY.
Come on, I’ll go warm up some drinks, it’s too late to go to sleep now. Come on, knight, come on, knight.

[Exit.]

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.

DUKE.
Play some music for me. Good morning, friends.
Now, good Cesario, I want that song,
That old and classic tune we heard last night;
I thought it really eased my feelings,
Way more than light tunes and remembered lyrics
From these fast-paced and dizzying times.
Come on, just one verse.

CURIO.
He's not here, so please, your lordship, you should sing it.

DUKE.
Who was that?

CURIO.
Feste, the jester, my lord, a fool that Lady Olivia’s father enjoyed a lot. He is around the house.

DUKE.
Find him and play the music while you’re at it.

[Exit Curio. Music starts playing.]

Come here, boy. If you ever love,
In the sweet pain of it, remember me:
For people like me are how all true lovers are,
Restless and nervous in everything else,
Except in the steady image of the person
That is loved. How do you like this tune?

VIOLA.
It really resonates in the place
Where love rules.

DUKE.
You speak like a master.
I swear, even though you're young, your eye
Has fixed on someone you adore.
Hasn't it, boy?

Viola.
A little, if you please.

DUKE.
What kind of woman is she?

VIOLA.
Of your skin tone.

DUKE.
She's not worth your time, then. How many years, really?

VIOLA.
About your age, my lord.

DUKE.
Too old, for sure! Let the woman still choose
Someone older than herself; that way she fits in with him,
And holds her place steady in her husband’s heart.
Because, kid, no matter how much we boast,
Our thoughts are more scattered and unstable,
More restless, uncertain, and lost sooner than women’s.

VIOLA.
I think that's a good idea, my lord.

DUKE.
Then let your love be younger than you,
Or your feelings won't last:
For women are like roses, whose beautiful bloom
Once shown, withers that very hour.

VIOLA.
And so they are: sadly, that they are;
To die, even when they reach perfection!

Enter Curio and Clown.

DUKE.
Oh, my friend, come on, let’s sing the song we had last night.
Listen, Cesario, it’s simple and straightforward;
The young women and the knitters in the sun,
And the single girls, who spin their thread with bones,
They often sing it: it’s a silly truth,
And it plays around with the innocence of love
Like old age.

CLOWN.
Are you ready, dude?

DUKE.
Yeah; please, sing.

[Music.]

The Clown's song.

    Come away, come away, death.
    And lay me in sad cypress.
    Fly away, fly away, breath;
    I’m killed by a beautiful, cruel girl.
       My white shroud, covered with yew,
         Oh, get it ready!
       No one has truly shared
         my part in death.

    Not a flower, not a sweet flower,
    On my dark coffin let there be placed:
    Not a friend, not a friendly face
    To greet my poor body where my bones will rest:
       A thousand thousand sighs to spare,
         Bury me, oh, where
       A sad true lover will never find my grave,
         To weep there.

DUKE.
Here's something for your efforts.

CLOWN.
No worries, sir; I enjoy singing, sir.

DUKE.
I'll pay for your pleasure, then.

CLOWN.
Honestly, sir, pleasure will be enjoyed sooner or later.

DUKE.
Let me now take my leave of you.

CLOWN.
Now may the sad god watch over you, and may the tailor make your outfit from shimmering taffeta, because your mind is just like an opal. I wish there were men with such unwavering resolve sent out to sea, so that their work could encompass everything, and their purpose could be found everywhere, because that’s what always turns a pointless journey into a good adventure. Goodbye.

[Exit Clown.]

DUKE.
Everyone else, move aside.

[Curio and Attendants exit.]

Once again, Cesario,
Go to that same sovereign cruelty.
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
Values not the amount of worthless land;
The things that fortune has given her,
Tell her I cherish as lightly as fortune;
But it’s that miracle and queen of gems
That nature adorns her with that draws my soul.

VIOLA.
But what if she can't love you, sir?

DUKE.
I can't accept that answer.

VIOLA.
Honestly, you have to.
Imagine there’s a lady who, just like you do for Olivia,
Feels just as deeply for you:
You can’t love her;
You say that to her. Doesn’t she deserve a response?

DUKE.
No woman’s side
Can withstand the intensity of love
That my heart feels: no woman’s heart
Is big enough to hold so much; they can’t contain it.
Sadly, their love can be seen as mere desire,
Not a deep emotion, but rather a craving,
That gets overwhelmed, sickened, and turns away;
But mine is as endless as the ocean,
And can take on just as much. Don’t even compare
The love a woman can give me
To the love I owe Olivia.

VIOLA.
Yeah, but I know—

DUKE.
What do you know?

VIOLA.
Women really do love men deeply.
Honestly, they are just as sincere as we are.
My father had a daughter who loved a man,
And if I were a woman, I might love you, my lord.

DUKE.
And what’s her story?

VIOLA.
Nothing, my lord. She never expressed her love,
But let keeping it hidden, like a worm in a bud,
Eat away at her rosy cheeks: she suffered in silence,
And with her mixed feelings of sadness and envy,
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling through her grief. Wasn't this love, really?
We men might say more, swear more, but honestly,
What we show is more than what we feel; for we continue to prove
A lot in our promises, but little in our love.

DUKE.
But did your sister die from her love, my boy?

VIOLA.
I’m all my father’s daughters,
And all his sons too: and yet I don’t know.
Sir, should I go to this lady?

DUKE.
Yeah, that's the theme.
To her quickly. Give her this jewel; say
My love can't wait, can't be denied.

[Exit.]

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

SIR TOBY.
Let's go, Signior Fabian.

FABIAN.
No, I’ll come. If I miss out on even a bit of this fun, I might as well be boiled to death with sadness.

SIR TOBY.
Wouldn't you be glad to see the greedy, sneaky trickster face some serious embarrassment?

FABIAN.
I would be thrilled, man. You know he got me out of my lady's good graces over a bear-baiting here.

SIR TOBY.
To get him mad, we'll bring the bear back, and we'll mess with him pretty badly, right, Sir Andrew?

SIR ANDREW.
And we don't, it's a shame for our lives.

Enter Maria.

SIR TOBY.
Here comes the little troublemaker. What's up, my friend from India?

MARIA.
Get all three of you into the boxwood tree. Malvolio’s coming down this path; he’s been over there in the sun practicing his behavior in front of his own shadow for the last half hour. Watch him for the sake of fun; I know this letter is going to turn him into a thoughtful fool. Hide, for the sake of a joke! [The men hide themselves.] Lie down there; [Throws down a letter] because here comes the fish that needs to be caught by tickling.

[Maria exits.]

Enter Malvolio.

MALVOLIO.
It's all just luck, everything's about luck. Maria once told me she liked me, and I’ve even heard her say that if she were to be interested in someone, it would be someone like me. Plus, she treats me with more respect than anyone else who’s around her. What should I make of that?

SIR TOBY.
Here’s an arrogant trickster!

FABIAN.
Oh, peace! Thinking really makes him strut like a proud peacock; look at him flaunt those feathers!

SIR ANDREW.
‘I could totally take that jerk down!’

SIR TOBY.
Calm down, I say.

To be Count Malvolio.

SIR TOBY.
Ah, troublemaker!

SIR ANDREW.
Shoot him, shoot him.

SIR TOBY.
Calm down, calm down.

MALVOLIO.
There's a perfect example. The lady of the Strachy married the wardrobe attendant.

SIR ANDREW.
Shame on him, Jezebel!

FABIAN.
Oh, quiet! Now he’s really into it; just look how his imagination is running wild.

MALVOLIO.
After being married to her for three months, sitting in my position—

SIR TOBY.
Oh, for a slingshot to hit him in the eye!

MALVOLIO.
Gathering my officers around me, wearing my ornate velvet robe; I just got up from a daybed where I left Olivia sleeping.

SIR TOBY.
Holy smokes!

FABIAN.
O, tranquility, tranquility.

MALVOLIO.
And then to have the attitude of authority; and after a serious look, letting them know I understand my position just as I expect them to understand theirs, to ask for my relative Toby.

SIR TOBY.
Handcuffs and chains!

FABIAN.
Oh, calm down, calm down, calm down! Now, now.

MALVOLIO.
Seven of my staff, quickly ready, head out for him. I frown in the meantime and maybe wind up my watch or play with some expensive jewel. Toby comes closer; he bows to me—

SIR TOBY.
Is this guy going to live?

FABIAN.
Even if our silence is taken from us with cars, let's keep the peace!

MALVOLIO.
I reach out to him like this, suppressing my friendly smile with a serious look of control—

SIR TOBY.
And doesn't Toby give you a kiss then?

MALVOLIO.
Saying, "Cousin Toby, since my luck has brought me to your niece, let me have this chance to speak—"

SIR TOBY.
What’s up?

MALVOLIO.
'You need to fix your drinking.'

SIR TOBY.
Get lost, loser!

FABIAN.
No, let's be patient, or we'll ruin our plan.

MALVOLIO.
"Besides, you're wasting your time with a silly knight—"

SIR ANDREW.
That's me, I assure you.

MALVOLIO.
‘One Sir Andrew.’

SIR ANDREW.
I knew it was me, because many people call me a fool.

MALVOLIO.
[Picking up the letter.] What do we have here?

FABIAN.
Now is the woodcock close to the trap.

SIR TOBY.
Oh, come on! And the mood of humor reading to him out loud!

MALVOLIO.
I swear, this is my lady’s handwriting: these are definitely her C’s, her U’s, and her T’s, and this is how she writes her big P’s. There’s no doubt about it, this is her writing.

SIR ANDREW.
Her C’s, her U’s, and her T’s. Why is that?

MALVOLIO.
[Reads.] To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes. Her exact phrases! Hold on, wax. Wait! And the imprint of her Lucrece, which she uses to seal: it’s my lady. Who could this be for?

FABIAN.
This totally wins him over.

MALVOLIO.
[Reads.]
    Jove knows I love,
    But who?
    Lips, don’t move,
    No one must know.

‘No one must know.’ What happens next? The numbers changed! ‘No one must know.’—Could it be you, Malvolio?

SIR TOBY.
Seriously, get lost, idiot!

MALVOLIO.
    I can issue orders where I love,
    But silence, like a Lucretia's knife,
    With a bloodless strike pierces my heart;
    M.O.A.I. controls my life.

FABIAN.
A ridiculous riddle!

SIR TOBY.
Awesome girl, I say.

MALVOLIO.
'M.O.A.I. controls my life.'—No, but first let me check, let me check, let me check.

FABIAN.
What kind of poison has she prepared for him!

SIR TOBY.
And how swiftly the falcon dives at it!

MALVOLIO.
"I can be in charge where I love." Well, she can be in charge of me: I serve her, she is my lady. This is obvious to anyone with any sense. There's no hindrance to this. And the outcome—what does that spell out? If only I could make that mean something about me! Hold on! "M.O.A.I."—

SIR TOBY.
Oh, yeah, do that:—he's currently on a cold trail.

FABIAN.
Sowter will complain about all this, even if it stinks like a fox.

MALVOLIO.
‘M’—Malvolio; ‘M!’ Well, that starts my name!

FABIAN.
Didn’t I say he would figure it out? That guy is great at finding mistakes.

MALVOLIO.
‘M’—But then there’s no consistency in what comes next; that’s questionable: ‘A’ should follow, but instead it’s ‘O’.

FABIAN.
And 'O' will come to an end, I hope.

SIR TOBY.
Yeah, or I’ll hit him and make him yell ‘O!’

MALVOLIO.
And then 'I' comes after.

FABIAN.
Yeah, if you had any awareness of what's behind you, you might notice more criticism at your back than luck in front of you.

MALVOLIO.
‘M.O.A.I.’ This situation is different from the previous one: and yet, to simplify this a bit, it would submit to me, because every one of these letters is in my name. Hold on, here’s the text.
[Reads.] If this falls into your hands, think carefully. In my stars, I’m above you, but don’t be afraid of greatness. Some people are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness forced upon them. Your fates are open; let your blood and spirit embrace them. And, to prepare yourself for who you might become, shed your humble self and appear renewed. Be contrary with a relative, be grumpy with servants. Let your speech be filled with discussions of power; adopt an air of uniqueness. She who longs for you advises you this way. Remember who praised your yellow stockings and wanted to see you always in cross-gartered style. I say, remember. Go on, you’re made for this if you want to be. If not, then stay a steward, just one of the servants, not worthy to touch Fortune’s hand. Farewell. She who would trade places with you,
                    The Fortunate Unhappy.

Daylight and chance don’t reveal anything more! This is clear. I will take pride, I will read political authors, I will confuse Sir Toby, I will distance myself from low connections, I will be perfectly refined, the exact man. I’m no longer fooling myself into letting imagination deceive me; every reason points to this—the fact that my lady loves me. She complimented my yellow stockings recently, she praised my leg being cross-gartered, and in this, she shows her feelings for me, and with a sort of command, pushes me to dress in the way she likes. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be unusual, bold, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the speed of putting them on. May Jove and my stars be praised!—Here’s a little note. [Reads.] You must know who I am. If you welcome my love, let it show in your smile; your smiles suit you well. So please, keep smiling in my presence, my sweet, I beg you. Jove, thank you. I will smile, I will do whatever you want me to.

[Log out.]

FABIAN.
I won’t give up my share of this fun for a pension of thousands from the Sophy.

SIR TOBY.
I could marry this girl for this idea.

SIR ANDREW.
I could too.

SIR TOBY.
And don't ask for any other dowry with her except for another joke like that.

Enter Maria.

SIR ANDREW.
Neither do I.

FABIAN.
Here comes my noble seagull catcher.

SIR TOBY.
Will you step on my neck?

SIR ANDREW.
Or mine either?

SIR TOBY.
Should I risk my freedom in a game and become your servant?

SIR ANDREW.
I swear, or me neither?

SIR TOBY.
You've put him in such a state that when the vision fades, he'll go crazy.

MARIA.
No, but seriously, does it affect him?

SIR TOBY.
Like strong liquor with a midwife.

MARIA.
If you want to see the results of this scheme, pay attention to his first interaction with my lady: he’ll show up in yellow stockings, a color she hates, and in cross-gartered style, a look she loathes; and he’ll smile at her, which will be completely out of character for her since she tends to be so melancholy that it will certainly make him look foolish. If you want to witness this, follow me.

SIR TOBY.
To the gates of Hell, you clever devil!

SIR ANDREW.
I'll make one as well.

[Exit.]

Enter Viola and Clown with a drum.

VIOLA.
Hello, friend, and your music. Do you make a living with your drum?

CLOWN.
No, sir, I live near the church.

Viola.
Are you a churchman?

CLOWN.
It's not a big deal, sir. I do live near the church because my house is right next to it.

VIOLA.
So you could say the king is lying next to a beggar if a beggar lives close to him; or the church is next to your drum if your drum is next to the church.

CLOWN.
You said it, sir. Look at this time! A sentence is nothing but a soft glove for a clever mind. How easily the wrong side can be shown!

VIOLA.
No, that's true; those who play around with words can easily make them seductive.

CLOWN.
I wish my sister hadn't had a name, sir.

VIOLA.
Why, dude?

CLOWN.
Well, sir, her name is just a word; and playing around with that word could make my sister act inappropriately. But honestly, words are quite sneaky, especially since their meanings have been dishonored.

VIOLA.
What's your reasoning, man?

CLOWN.
Honestly, sir, I can't give you anything without words, and words have become so dishonest that I hesitate to use them to explain my point.

VIOLA.
I bet you're a fun guy and don't care about anything.

CLOWN.
Not at all, sir, I do care about something. But honestly, sir, I don't care about you. If that means I care for nothing, then I wish it would make you invisible.

VIOLA.
Aren't you Lady Olivia's jester?

CLOWN.
No, really, sir; Lady Olivia is not foolish. She won’t have a fool around until she’s married, and fools are as similar to husbands as pilchards are to herrings—the husband is the bigger one. I’m not really her fool, but more like her manipulator of words.

VIOLA.
I saw you recently at Count Orsino’s.

CLOWN.
Foolishness, sir, spreads around the world like the sun; it shines everywhere. I would feel bad, sir, if the fool spent more time with your master than with my mistress. I think I saw your wisdom in that.

VIOLA.
No way, if you keep talking to me like that, I'm done. Here, take this money for your troubles.

CLOWN.
Now Jupiter, in his next supply of hair, grant you a beard!

VIOLA.
Honestly, I’ll tell you, I’m almost longing for one, though I wouldn’t want it to grow on my chin. Is your lady inside?

CLOWN.
Wouldn't a couple of these have reproduced, sir?

VIOLA.
Yeah, being kept together and put to use.

CLOWN.
I'd take on the role of Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to get a Cressida for this Troilus.

VIOLA.
I get you, sir; it's a good request.

CLOWN.
I hope this isn't a big deal, sir, just asking for help: Cressida asked for help. My lady is inside, sir. I will explain to them where you came from; who you are and what you want are beyond me. I could say “element,” but that word is too overused.

[Leave.]

VIOLA.
This guy is smart enough to act like a fool,
And to do that well, he needs a certain kind of cleverness:
He has to read the mood of the people he jokes with,
The nature of those around him, and the timing,
And just like a hawk, he must check every little detail
That comes into his sight. This is a job
That's as demanding as a wise man's craft:
For the silliness he shows wisely is appropriate;
But wise people, caught in their own foolishness, completely ruin their cleverness.

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

Sir Toby.
Bless you, sir.

VIOLA.
And you, dude.

SIR ANDREW.
God bless you, sir.

VIOLA.
And you too; your servant.

SIR ANDREW.
I hope you're doing well, sir, and I am at your service.

SIR TOBY.
Are you going to visit the house? My niece wants you to come in, if it's part of your job.

VIOLA.
I'm committed to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the purpose of my journey.

SIR TOBY.
Try out your legs, sir, get them moving.

VIOLA.
My legs understand me better than I understand what you mean by telling me to test my legs.

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

VIOLA.
I’ll respond with my body language and how I show up: but something is stopping us.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Most excellent and accomplished lady, the heavens shower you with scents!

SIR ANDREW.
That guy is a special kind of courtier. "Rain scents," sure.

VIOLA.
I have nothing to say, lady, except to your own attentive and kind ear.

SIR ANDREW.
"Scents," "expecting," and "granted."—I’ll have all three prepared.

OLIVIA.
Close the garden door and let me be alone with my thoughts.

[Exit Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Maria.]

Take my hand, sir.

VIOLA.
I'm here to serve you, madam, with my utmost respect.

OLIVIA.
What's your name?

VIOLA.
Cesario is the name of your servant, lovely princess.

OLIVIA.
My servant, sir! It’s never been a happy world,
Since pretending to be humble was called a compliment:
You’re the servant of Count Orsino, young man.

VIOLA.
And he belongs to you, and he has to belong to you.
Your servant’s servant is your servant, ma'am.

OLIVIA.
For him, I don’t think about him: I wish his thoughts
Were empty instead of being filled with me!

VIOLA.
Ma'am, I'm here to sharpen your kind thoughts
About him.

OLIVIA.
Oh, if you don’t mind, I ask you.
I told you to never mention him again.
But if you’d like to pursue something else,
I’d prefer to hear you ask for that
Than music from the heavens.

VIOLA.
Dear lady—

OLIVIA.
Please, let me go. I sent
A ring after the last enchantment you performed here,
And I feel I’ve wronged
Myself, my servant, and, I worry, you.
I have to sit with your harsh judgment;
To force something on you in a disgraceful way,
That you didn’t deserve. What do you think?
Haven’t you put my honor on the line,
And baited it with all those unrestrained thoughts
That a cruel heart can think? For someone like you,
Enough has been shown. A cypress, not a heart,
Hides my feelings: so let me hear you speak.

VIOLA.
I feel sorry for you.

OLIVIA.
That's a reason to love.

VIOLA.
No, not a joke; because it's a common truth
That we often feel sorry for our enemies.

OLIVIA.
Well then, I think it’s time to smile again.
Oh world, how easily the poor become proud!
If someone has to be a victim, it’s much better
To fall to the lion than the wolf! [Clock strikes.]
The clock reminds me of how I’m wasting time.
Don’t worry, young man, I won’t take you.
And yet, when your intelligence and youth come into play,
Your wife is likely to end up with a great man.
That’s the way you should go, due west.

VIOLA.
Then let’s head west!
May grace and good will be with you, my lady!
Do you have nothing to send to my lord through me, madam?

OLIVIA.
Stay:
Please tell me what you think of me.

VIOLA.
You believe you aren't who you really are.

OLIVIA.
If I feel that way, I feel the same about you.

VIOLA.
So you believe correctly; I’m not who I appear to be.

OLIVIA.
I wish you were how I want you to be.

VIOLA.
Would it be better, ma'am, if I were someone else?
I hope so, because right now I'm just your fool.

OLIVIA.
Oh, how beautiful scorn looks
In the contempt and anger of his lips!
A murderous guilt doesn't reveal itself sooner
Than love that tries to stay hidden. Love’s night is like noon.
Cesario, by the roses of spring,
By maidenhood, honor, truth, and everything,
I love you so much that despite all your pride,
Neither wit nor reason can hide my passion.
Don’t force your reasons from this statement,
For the fact that I’m pursuing you gives you no reason;
But rather reason this way with reason tied:
Love sought is good, but love given without seeking is better.

VIOLA.
I swear by my innocence and my youth,
I have one heart, one soul, and one truth,
And no woman has that; nor will any
Be my master but me alone.
So goodbye, good madam; I will never again
Bring my master’s tears to you.

OLIVIA.
But come back: because you might be able to change
That heart, which now hates, to like his love.

[Exit.]

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

SIR ANDREW.
No way, I’m not staying another minute.

SIR TOBY.
Your reason, dear venom, give your reason.

FABIAN.
You really need to consider your argument, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW.
Honestly, I saw your niece being nicer to the Count’s servant than she’s ever been to me; I saw it in the orchard.

SIR TOBY.
Did she see you at all, old buddy? Just tell me that.

SIR ANDREW.
Just as clear as I see you now.

FABIAN.
This was a strong expression of her love for you.

SIR ANDREW.
'Slight! Are you trying to make a fool out of me?

FABIAN.
I will prove it true, sir, based on the principles of fairness and logic.

SIR TOBY.
And they've been grand jurors since before Noah was a sailor.

FABIAN.
She only showed interest in the young man to annoy you, to wake up your hidden courage, to ignite passion in your heart and anger in your gut. You should have approached her and, with some clever jokes fresh off the press, left the young man speechless. Everyone expected that from you, but you missed the chance: you let this opportunity slip away and now you've drifted into the negative side of my lady’s opinion; where you’ll hang like an icicle on a Dutchman’s beard, unless you redeem yourself with some admirable action, whether through bravery or strategy.

SIR ANDREW.
And if it's going to be any way, it has to be with courage, because I can't stand politics; I would rather be a Brownist than a politician.

SIR TOBY.
Then, base your future on bravery. Challenge the Count's youth to a duel. Wound him in eleven spots; my niece will notice, and trust me, there’s no matchmaker in the world that can do more for a man's reputation with a woman than tales of courage.

FABIAN.
There’s no other option, Sir Andrew.

SIR ANDREW.
Will either of you take me up on a challenge to him?

SIR TOBY.
Go, write it in a bold style, be sharp and to the point; it doesn't matter if it's witty, as long as it's expressive and full of creativity. Mock him with the power of your pen. If you insult him a few times, that's fine, and include as many lies as you can fit on your paper, even if it's big enough to cover a bed in Ware, England. Just go for it. Make sure there's enough bitterness in your ink, even if you're using a goose feather to write—it's all good. Get to it.

SIR ANDREW.
Where can I find you?

SIR TOBY.
We'll meet you in the room. Go.

[Exit Sir Andrew.]

FABIAN.
This is a dear little guy to you, Sir Toby.

SIR TOBY.
I've been close to him, kid, for about two thousand strong, or something like that.

FABIAN.
We'll get a unique letter from him; but you won't deliver it.

SIR TOBY.
Don’t trust me then. And definitely goad the young man into responding. I think oxen and ropes can't pull them together. As for Andrew, if you cut him open and find even a drop of blood in his liver, I’ll eat the rest of his insides.

FABIAN.
And the young man opposite him doesn't show any strong signs of being cruel.

Enter Maria.

SIR TOBY.
Look where the youngest wren of nine is coming.

MARIA.
If you want some fun and are ready to laugh until you cry, follow me. That fool Malvolio has become a real weirdo; no one who genuinely believes in being saved would ever accept such absurd nonsense. He’s wearing yellow stockings.

SIR TOBY.
And wearing cross-garters?

MARIA.
He's acting so badly; like a know-it-all running a school in church. I've followed him around like he's my enemy. He follows every detail of the letter I dropped to set him up. He forces a smile that creates more lines on his face than there are on the new map that includes the Indies. You wouldn't believe it if you saw it. I can barely hold back from throwing things at him. I know my lady will hit him. If she does, he’ll just smile and see it as a huge compliment.

SIR TOBY.
Come on, take us to where he is.

[Exit.]

Enter Sebastian and Antonio.

SEBASTIAN.
I wouldn't have bothered you if it were up to me,
But since you seem to enjoy your struggles,
I won't criticize you any further.

ANTONIO.
I couldn’t hold back: my desire,
Sharper than polished steel, drove me on;
And not just love wanting to see you, even so much,
That it could have enticed someone to take a longer journey,
But jealousy about what could happen during your travels,
Being unskilled in these areas; which can be,
Rough and unwelcoming for a stranger,
Lost and without friends. My eager love,
Even more because of these fears,
Set me on your path.

SEBASTIAN.
My dear Antonio,
I have no answer to give except thanks,
And thanks, and more thanks; and often good deeds
Are brushed aside with such inadequate payment.
But if my worth matched my conscience,
You would find better treatment. What’s next?
Shall we go see the sights of this town?

ANTONIO.
Tomorrow, sir; it's best to check out your place first.

SEBASTIAN.
I’m not tired, and it’s still early in the evening;
I ask you, let’s enjoy the sights
And the famous things
That give this city its reputation.

ANTONIO.
Would you please excuse me?
I can’t walk these streets without risking my safety.
Once, during a naval battle against the Count's ships,
I did a service that was quite notable,
So if I were caught here, it would hardly be justified.

SEBASTIAN.
It seems you killed a lot of his people.

ANTONIO.
The offense isn't that serious,
Although the circumstances and the argument
Could have led to a violent confrontation.
We might have settled it by returning
What we took from them, which, for trade's sake,
Most of our city did. I was the only one who disagreed,
And if I get in trouble here,
I’ll pay a heavy price.

SEBASTIAN.
Don’t walk around too openly then.

ANTONIO.
It doesn’t suit me. Hold on, sir, here’s my wallet.
In the southern suburbs, at the Elephant,
It’s best to stay. I’ll arrange our meals
While you occupy yourself and expand your knowledge
By exploring the town. You’ll find me there.

SEBASTIAN.
Why is your purse?

ANTONIO.
Maybe your eye will catch sight of something you want to buy; and your shop,
I believe, is not meant for frivolous customers, sir.

SEBASTIAN.
I'll be your purse bearer and leave you for an hour.

To the Elephant.

I remember.

[They exit.]

Enter Olivia and Maria.

OLIVIA.
I’ve sent for him. He says he’ll come;
How should I welcome him? What should I give him?
Because youth is often earned rather than begged or borrowed.
I’m speaking too loudly.—
Where’s Malvolio?—He’s gloomy and polite,
And he fits well as a servant for someone of my status;
Where is Malvolio?

MARIA.
He's coming, ma'am:
But in a very strange way. He's definitely acting weird, ma'am.

OLIVIA.
What's wrong? Is he going crazy?

MARIA.
No, madam, he only smiles: you should really have some protection around you if he comes, because it’s clear the man is not right in the head.

OLIVIA.
Go call him here. I’m just as crazy as he is,
If being sad and happy crazy is the same.

Enter Malvolio.

What's up, Malvolio?

Malvolio.
Hey there, sweet lady!

OLIVIA.
Are you smiling? I called for you because of something sad.

MALVOLIO.
Feeling sad, lady? I could be sad: this cross-gartering does block my blood a bit. But so what? If it pleases one person, it's like the real sonnet: 'Please one and please everyone.'

OLIVIA.
Hey, how are you doing, man? What's wrong with you?

MALVOLIO.
Not dark in my mind, but yellow in my legs. It reached his hands, and orders will be followed. I believe we recognize the charming Roman touch.

OLIVIA.
Are you going to bed, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO.
To bed? Yes, sweetheart, and I'll be there.

OLIVIA.
God comfort you! Why are you smiling so much and kissing your hand so often?

How are you, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO.
At your request? Yeah, nightingales respond to crows!

MARIA.
Why do you come in here with such ridiculous confidence in front of my lady?

MALVOLIO.
"Don’t be afraid of greatness." That was well said.

OLIVIA.
What do you mean by that, Malvolio?

MALVOLIO.
‘Some are born great’—

OLIVIA.
Huh?

MALVOLIO.
"Some achieve greatness"—

OLIVIA.
What do you say?

MALVOLIO.
‘And some people have greatness forced upon them.’

OLIVIA.
Heaven bless you!

MALVOLIO.
'Remember who praised your yellow socks'—

OLIVIA.
Your yellow stockings?

MALVOLIO.
‘And wanted to see you wearing cross-garters.’

OLIVIA.
Wearing cross-gartered?

MALVOLIO.
"Go ahead: you’re set, if that’s what you want:"—

OLIVIA.
Am I real?

MALVOLIO.
"If not, then I want to see you as a servant still."

OLIVIA.
Wow, this is totally midsummer madness.

Enter Servant.

SERVANT.
Ma'am, the young guy from Count Orsino is back; I could barely convince him to return. He’s here at your request.

OLIVIA.
I’ll go to him.

[Exit Servant.]

Good Maria, make sure someone keeps an eye on this guy. Where's my cousin Toby? I want some of my people to look after him; I wouldn't want him to get into trouble for half of my dowry.

[Exit Olivia and Maria.]

MALVOLIO.
Oh, are you coming close to me now? There’s no worse person than Sir Toby to watch over me. This lines up perfectly with the letter: she sends him specifically so I can seem stubborn to him; she encourages me to do that in the letter. 'Cast off your humble exterior,' she says; 'be confrontational with a relative, grumpy with servants, let your speech be filled with serious discussion, put yourself in the habit of being different,' and then she lays out exactly how: a serious face, a dignified demeanor, a slow way of speaking, dressed like some important guy, and so on. I’ve set a trap for her, but it’s all thanks to Jove, and I’m grateful to him! And when she left just now, ‘Make sure to keep an eye on this guy;’ ‘Guy!’ not ‘Malvolio’, nor by my title, but ‘guy’. Everything is coming together so clearly that not even the tiniest doubt, not a trace of doubt, no obstacle, no unbelievable or risky situation can stand in my way. What can be said? Nothing can get between me and the full realization of my dreams. Well, it’s Jove, not me, who is making this happen, and he deserves the credit.

Enter Sir Toby, Fabian and Maria.

SIR TOBY.
Which way is he, for heaven's sake? Even if all the devils from hell were gathered together, and Legion himself had taken him over, I’ll still talk to him.

FABIAN.
Here he is, here he is. How are you doing, sir? How are you doing, man?

MALVOLIO.
Leave me alone, I want to be by myself. Just go away.

MARIA.
Look how hollow the villain sounds inside him! Didn't I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady asks you to take care of him.

MALVOLIO.
Oh, really? Is that so?

SIR TOBY.
Come on, come on; calm down, calm down; we need to be gentle with him. Just let me handle this. How are you, Malvolio? How are you doing? Come on, man! Stand up to the devil! Remember, he’s an enemy of humanity.

MALVOLIO.
Do you realize what you're saying?

MARIA.
You know, if you talk bad about the devil, he really takes it to heart! Let’s hope he’s not under a spell.

FABIAN.
Take his water to the wise woman.

MARIA.
Sure, and it will be done tomorrow morning, if I’m still around. My lady wouldn’t let him go for anything I can think of.

MALVOLIO.
What's up, mistress!

Maria. Oh Lord!

SIR TOBY.
Please be quiet, this isn't the right approach. Can't you see you're upsetting him? Just let me handle this on my own.

FABIAN.
There's no way to handle this but with kindness, softly, softly. The devil is harsh and won't respond to harsh treatment.

SIR TOBY.
Hey, what's up, my good buddy? How are you doing, my dear?

MALVOLIO.
Sir!

SIR TOBY.
Yeah, come with me. What, man, it’s not serious to play games with Satan. Forget him, you filthy miner!

MARIA.
Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.

MALVOLIO.
My prayers, troublemaker?

MARIA.
No, I assure you, he won't listen to anything about being good.

MALVOLIO.
Go, hang yourselves! You're all just useless, shallow people. I don't belong with you. You'll understand more later.

[Log out.]

SIR TOBY.
Is it possible?

FABIAN.
If this were performed on a stage today, I would call it an unlikely story.

SIR TOBY.
His brilliant mind has caught on to the idea, man.

MARIA.
No, go after him now, or the plan might get out and ruin everything.

FABIAN.
Well, we're definitely going to drive him crazy.

The house will be calmer.

SIR TOBY.
Come on, let’s get him into a dark room and tie him up. My niece already thinks he’s crazy. We can keep it going for our enjoyment and his punishment, until we’re so worn out from the fun that we feel sorry for him, at which point we’ll present our plan and reward you for finding madmen. But wait, wait!

Enter Sir Andrew.

FABIAN.
More things to discuss on a May morning.

SIR ANDREW.
Here’s the challenge, read it. I bet there’s some vinegar and spice in it.

FABIAN.
Isn't it so spicy?

SIR ANDREW.
Yeah, I bet it is. Just read it.

SIR TOBY.
Give me. [Reads.] Hey, you! No matter who you are, you're just a worthless guy.

FABIAN.
Good and brave.

SIR TOBY.
Don't be surprised or try to figure out why I'm calling you that, because I'm not going to give you any reason for it.

FABIAN.
A solid tip that protects you from legal trouble.

SIR TOBY.
You come to Lady Olivia, and in my presence she treats you well: but you’re lying; that’s not what I’m calling you out for.

FABIAN.
Very short, and with exceptional good sense—less.

SIR TOBY.
I will ambush you on your way home; and if you happen to kill me—

FABIAN.
Great.

SIR TOBY.
You’re killing me like a scoundrel and a jerk.

FABIAN.
You still stay on the side of the law. Good.

SIR TOBY.
Goodbye, and may God have mercy on one of our souls! He might have mercy on mine, but I have more hope, so you should watch out for yourself. Your friend, as you treat him, and your sworn enemy,
                        Andrew Aguecheek.
If this letter doesn't get to him, his legs won't either. I'll make sure he gets it.

MARIA.
You might have a good reason for it. He is currently talking to my lady and will be leaving shortly.

SIR TOBY.
Go, Sir Andrew. Keep an eye out for him at the edge of the orchard, like a guard. As soon as you see him, pull out your weapon, and while you do, swear loudly and fiercely, because it often happens that a fierce oath, delivered with a swagger, earns a man more respect than any proof of bravery ever could. Now go.

SIR ANDREW.
No, just let me handle the swearing.

[Leave.]

SIR TOBY.
I won’t deliver his letter because the way the young man acts shows he’s smart and well-mannered; his role with his lord and my niece reinforces that. So, this letter, which is so clueless, won’t scare him at all. He’ll realize it’s from a fool. But, I will deliver his challenge verbally, give Aguecheek a big reputation for bravery, and convince the young man (who I know will take it well) that Aguecheek is full of rage, skill, fury, and impulsiveness. This will frighten them both so much that they'll end up wanting to kill each other just by looking at one another, like cockatrices.

Enter Olivia and Viola.

FABIAN.
Here he comes with your niece; let them pass until he says goodbye, and then follow right after him.

SIR TOBY.
I’ll think for a bit about some terrible message for a challenge.

[Exit Sir Toby, Fabian and Maria.]

OLIVIA.
I've revealed too much to a heart of stone,
And have placed my honor too carelessly on it:
There's something in me that criticizes my mistake:
But it's such a stubborn, powerful mistake,
That it only mocks any criticism.

VIOLA.
My master’s griefs are just like the way your passion acts.

OLIVIA.
Here, wear this jewel for me; it’s my picture.
Don’t refuse it, it can’t speak to annoy you.
And I ask you to come back tomorrow.
What will you ask of me that I won’t agree to,
That, with honor intact, might be granted upon request?

VIOLA.
Nothing but this, your genuine love for my master.

OLIVIA.
How can I honorably give him what I’ve already given to you?

VIOLA.
I will clear you.

OLIVIA.
Well, come back tomorrow. Take care;
A monster like you could lead my soul to hell.

[Leave.]

Enter Sir Toby and Fabian.

SIR TOBY.
Gentleman, God bless you.

VIOLA.
And you, dude.

SIR TOBY.
You should take that defense you have seriously. I don't know what wrongs you've done to him, but your opponent, full of anger and as ruthless as a hunter, is waiting for you at the end of the orchard. Put away your sword, be ready in your preparation, because your attacker is fast, skilled, and deadly.

VIOLA.
You're mistaken, sir; I'm sure no man has any issue with me. My memory is completely clear of any offense toward anyone.

SIR TOBY.
You’ll see it differently, I promise you. So, if your life is worth anything to you, you better be on your guard, because your opponent has all the youth, strength, skill, and anger that a person can have.

VIOLA.
Excuse me, sir, who is he?

SIR TOBY.
He’s a knight, recognized with an untested sword and on friendly terms, but he’s a beast in a private fight. He has ended three relationships, and he’s so furious right now that the only way to settle this is through the agony of death and burial. “Hob, nob” is his phrase; take it or leave it.

VIOLA.
I’ll go back inside and ask the lady for some help. I’m not a fighter. I’ve heard of guys who purposely pick fights with others to test their courage: maybe this guy is one of those.

SIR TOBY.
No, sir. His anger comes from a real offense; so just go and give him what he wants. You won’t go back to the house unless you agree to something with me that you could just as safely discuss with him. So move forward, or draw your sword, because you have to get involved, that’s for sure, or give up wearing armor altogether.

VIOLA.
This is as rude as it is unusual. Please do me this favor and ask the knight what I did to offend him. It’s more about my carelessness than anything intentional.

SIR TOBY.
I’ll do that. Signior Fabian, please stay with this guy until I get back.

[Exit Sir Toby.]

VIOLA.
Excuse me, sir, are you aware of this situation?

FABIAN.
I know the knight is really angry with you, even to the point of a serious fight, but I don't know any more details about the situation.

VIOLA.
Please tell me, what kind of man is he?

FABIAN.
None of that amazing potential shows in how he looks, as you'll see in the evidence of his bravery. He is truly, sir, the most skilled, ruthless, and deadly opponent you could find anywhere in Illyria. Do you want to head over to him? I'll try to smooth things over for you if I can.

VIOLA.
I'll be very grateful to you for that. I'd rather hang out with a priest than a knight; I don't mind who knows that about me.

[They exit.]

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

SIR TOBY.
Well, he's a total nightmare. I haven't seen such a commotion. I had an encounter with him, sword and everything, and he attacks with such deadly force that it's unavoidable; and when you respond, he counters you just as surely as your feet touch the ground they walk on. They say he was a fencing instructor for the king.

SIR ANDREW.
Damn it, I won’t get involved with him.

SIR TOBY.
Yeah, but he won't be calmed down now: Fabian can barely keep him over there.

SIR ANDREW.
Damn it, if I had thought he was brave and skilled in a fight, I would have rather seen him go to hell than challenge him. If he backs off, I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

SIR TOBY.
I’ll take the lead. Stand here and put on a good show. This will end without anyone’s ruin. [Aside.] Sure, I’ll ride your horse just as well as I ride you.

Enter Fabian and Viola.

[To Fabian.] I have his horse to settle the dispute. I have convinced him that the young man is a devil.

FABIAN.
He is just as horribly full of himself, and he’s breathing heavily and looking pale, as if a bear were chasing him.

SIR TOBY.
There's no way around it, sir, he will challenge you for the sake of his oath. However, he's thought more about his quarrel and realizes it's hardly worth discussing now. So, draw your sword to support his vow; he insists he won't harm you.

VIOLA.
[Aside.] I hope God protects me! It wouldn’t take much for me to reveal how much I need a man.

FABIAN.
Back off if he looks angry.

SIR TOBY.
Come on, Sir Andrew, there’s no way around it; the guy will have to face you for the sake of his honor. He can't back out of a duel, but he promised me, as a gentleman and soldier, that he won’t hurt you. Let’s go for it.

SIR ANDREW.
[Draws.] I hope he keeps his promise!

Enter Antonio.

VIOLA.
[Draws.] I really assure you, it's not what I want.

ANTONIO.
Put away your sword. If this young man
Has done something wrong, I’ll take the blame for it.
If you hurt him, I’ll stand up to you for him.

SIR TOBY.
You, man? What are you anyway?

ANTONIO.
[Draws.] One, sir, who for his love is brave enough to do even more
Than you’ve heard him boast he will.

SIR TOBY.
[Draws.] Well, if you're an undertaker, I'm in.

Enter Officers.

FABIAN.
Oh good Sir Toby, wait! Here come the officers.

SIR TOBY.
[To Antonio.] I’ll be with you soon.

VIOLA.
[To Sir Andrew.] Please, sir, put your sword away, if you don't mind.

SIR ANDREW.
Sure, I will, sir; and for that I promised you, I'll keep my word. He'll handle you well and be easy to control.

FIRST OFFICER.
This is the guy; go ahead and do your job.

SECOND OFFICER.
Antonio, I’m arresting you on behalf of Count Orsino.

You’re mistaken, sir.

FIRST OFFICER.
No, sir, not at all. I know your face well,
Even though you’re not wearing a sea-cap now.—
Take him away, he knows I recognize him.

ANTONIO.
I have to comply. This is part of searching for you;
But there's no way out, I have to deal with it.
What will you do? Right now, I really need
To ask you for my wallet. It bothers me
A lot more for what I can't do for you,
Than what happens to me. You're shocked,
But stay calm.

SECOND OFFICER.
Let’s go, sir.

ANTONIO.
I really need to ask you for some of that money.

VIOLA.
What money are you talking about, sir?
Because of your kindness to me here,
And partly because of your current troubles,
I’ll lend you something from what little I have.
I don’t have much;
I’ll share what I have with you.
Here, take half of what I have.

ANTONIO.
Are you going to refuse me now?
Is it possible that what I’ve done for you
Isn’t convincing? Don’t push my despair,
Or it might turn me into such a bitter person
That I’ll remind you of all the good things
I’ve done for you.

VIOLA.
I don’t know anyone,
Nor do I recognize you by your voice or appearance.
I despise ingratitude in a man
More than lying, emptiness, rambling, drunkenness,
Or any hint of vice that deeply corrupts
Our fragile nature.

ANTONIO.
Oh my goodness!

SECOND OFFICER.
Come on, sir, please go.

ANTONIO.
Let me say a few words. This young man you see here
I rescued from the brink of death,
Saved him with the purest love;
And to his image, which I believed showed
Great honor, I dedicated myself.

FIRST OFFICER.
What does that matter to us? Time keeps moving. Let’s go!

ANTONIO.
But oh, what a disgusting idol this god turns out to be!
You’ve, Sebastian, made good looks shameful.
In nature, there’s no flaw except in the mind;
No one can be called ugly but the unkind.
Virtue is beauty, but beautiful evil
Are just empty shells, adorned by the devil.

FIRST OFFICER.
The man's losing it, get him out of here. Come on, sir.

ANTONIO.
Take me with you.

[Officers exit with Antonio.]

VIOLA.
I think his words come from such strong feelings
That he really believes what he’s saying; I don’t.
Please, imagination, make it real,
So that I, dear brother, can be taken for you!

SIR TOBY.
Come here, knight; come here, Fabian. Let’s quietly discuss a few wise sayings.

VIOLA.
His name was Sebastian. I know my brother
Still alive in my mind; just like him,
He had the same looks, style, and charm.
I’m trying to be like him. Oh, if it turns out,
Storms are gentle, and salty waves bring love!

[Leave.]

SIR TOBY.
A very deceitful, petty boy, and more of a coward than a rabbit. His dishonesty shows in abandoning his friend in a tough situation and denying him, and for his cowardice, just ask Fabian.

FABIAN.
A coward, an incredibly devoted coward, fully committed to it.

SIR ANDREW.
Darn it, I’m going after him again and I’ll take him down.

SIR TOBY.
Go ahead, hit him hard, but don’t pull out your sword.

SIR ANDREW.
And I don't—

[Log out.]

FABIAN.
Come on, let’s check it out.

SIR TOBY.
I bet you anything it won't be anything yet.

[They exit.]

Enter Sebastian and Clown.

CLOWN.
Are you going to convince me that I'm not here for you?

SEBASTIAN.
Come on, come on, you’re being ridiculous.
I want you out of my way.

CLOWN.
Well said, I swear! No, I don’t know you, and I’m not sent by my lady to ask you to talk to her; your name isn’t Master Cesario; and this isn’t my nose either. Nothing is as it seems.

SEBASTIAN.
I beg you to take your nonsense somewhere else,
You don't know me.

CLOWN.
Let me speak my foolishness! He heard that word from some important person, and now he's using it for a fool. Let me express my foolishness! I'm worried this big oaf, the world, will turn out to be clueless. Please, take off your weirdness and tell me what I should say to my lady. Should I tell her that you’re coming?

SEBASTIAN.
I beg you, foolish Greek, leave me alone.
Here’s some money for you; if you stay any longer,
I’ll give you a worse reward.

CLOWN.
Honestly, you’re very generous. These wise guys who give money to fools get a good reputation—after fourteen years of doing it.

Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian.

SIR ANDREW.
Well, have I run into you again? Here you go.

[Hit Sebastian.]

SEBASTIAN.
Here’s some for you, and some for you, and some for you.
Is everyone crazy?

Beating Sir Andrew.

SIR TOBY.
Wait, sir, or I’ll throw your knife across the room.

CLOWN.
I'm going to tell my lady right away. I wouldn't want to be in some of your outfits for two pence.

[Exit Clown.]

SIR TOBY.
Come on, dude, hold!

SIR ANDREW.
No, just leave him. I’ll handle this differently. I’ll take legal action against him for assault if there’s any law in Illyria. Even though I hit him first, that doesn’t really matter.

SEBASTIAN.
Let go of your hand!

SIR TOBY.
Come on, sir, I'm not letting you leave. Come on, my young soldier, put away your weapon: you're doing great. Let's go.

SEBASTIAN.
I will be free from you. What do you want now?
If you dare to tempt me any further, draw your sword.

Draws.

SIR TOBY.
What, what? Well, I guess I need to get an ounce or two of that bold blood from you.

[Sketches.]

Enter Olivia.

OLIVIA.
Wait, Toby! I command you to stop right now!

SIR TOBY.
Ma'am.

OLIVIA.
Will it always be like this? Ungrateful jerk,
Made for the mountains and savage caves,
Where no one ever taught manners! Get out of my sight!
Don't be offended, dear Cesario.
Scram, you rude person!

[Exit Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian.]

I ask you, dear friend,
Let your good sense, not your emotions, guide
In this rude and unfair situation
That disrupts your peace. Come with me to my house,
And there you’ll hear about all the pointless tricks
This thug has pulled, so you can laugh at it. You have to come.
Don't refuse. Curse him for me,
He’s disturbed my heart for you.

SEBASTIAN.
What pleasure is this? How does the stream flow?
Either I'm crazy, or this is just a dream.
Let my imagination numb my senses in forgetfulness;
If this is dreaming, then just let me keep sleeping!

OLIVIA.
No, come on, please. Would you let me guide you?

SEBASTIAN.
Sure, I will.

OLIVIA.
Oh, say that, and let it be!

[Exit.]

Enter Maria and Clown.

MARIA.
No, please, put on this gown and this beard; make him think you’re Sir Topas the curate. Do it fast. I’ll go get Sir Toby in the meantime.

[Leave Maria.]

CLOWN.
Alright, I'll put it on, and I'll pretend to be someone I'm not in it. I wish I were the first person to ever pretend while wearing this outfit. I'm not tall enough to pull off the role well, nor slim enough to be considered a good student, but being called an honest person and a good housekeeper is just as good as being called a careful person and a great scholar. The competitors enter.

Enter Sir Toby and Maria.

SIR TOBY.
God bless you, Master Parson.

CLOWN.
Good day, Sir Toby: just like the old hermit of Prague, who never saw pen and ink, cleverly told a niece of King Gorboduc, ‘What is, is’: so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; because what is ‘that’ but ‘that’? and ‘is’ but ‘is’?

SIR TOBY.
To him, Sir Topas.

CLOWN.
Hey there! Quiet in this prison!

SIR TOBY.
That trickster plays the part well. A clever trickster.

Malvolio inside.

MALVOLIO.
Who’s there?

CLOWN.
Sir Topas the curate, who comes to see Malvolio the madman.

MALVOLIO.
Sir Topas, Sir Topas, please go see my lady.

CLOWN.
Get out, exaggerated villain! How are you bothering this man? Are you only talking about women?

SIR TOBY.
Well said, Parson.

MALVOLIO.
Sir Topas, no man has ever been treated this way. Please, Sir Topas, don't assume I'm crazy. They have put me here in awful darkness.

CLOWN.
Come on, you dishonest devil! I'm trying to be nice here, because I'm one of those people who will treat the devil himself with respect. Are you saying that house is dark?

MALVOLIO.
Like hell, Sir Topas.

CLOWN.
Well, it has bay windows as clear as walls, and the clerestories facing south and north are as shiny as ebony; and yet you’re complaining about obstruction?

MALVOLIO.
I'm not crazy, Sir Topas. I'm telling you, this house is dark.

CLOWN.
Crazy person, you’re mistaken. I say there’s no darkness except ignorance, and you’re more confused than the Egyptians in their fog.

MALVOLIO.
I say this house is as dark as ignorance, even if ignorance was as dark as hell; and I say no man has ever been treated this way. I'm not any crazier than you are. Test it with any solid question.

CLOWN.
What does Pythagoras think about wild birds?

MALVOLIO.
That our grandmother's spirit might possibly live in a bird.

CLOWN.
What do you think of his opinion?

MALVOLIO.
I have a high regard for the soul, and I completely disagree with his opinion.

CLOWN.
Goodbye. Stay in the dark if you want. You'll believe in Pythagoras before I acknowledge your intelligence, and you're scared to kill a woodcock, worried you'll upset your grandmother's soul. Goodbye.

MALVOLIO.
Sir Topas, Sir Topas!

SIR TOBY.
My dear Sir Topas!

CLOWN.
No, I’m open to anything.

MARIA.
You could have done this without your beard and gown. He doesn't see you.

SIR TOBY.
Speak to him in your own voice and let me know how you find him. I wish we could get rid of this trickery. If he can be easily dealt with, I’d rather he were gone, since I’m now in such trouble with my niece that I can’t safely continue this scheme to the end. Come to my room soon.

[Exit Sir Toby and Maria.]

CLOWN.
[Singing.]
    Hey, Robin, cheerful Robin,
    Tell me how your lady is doing.

Fool!

CLOWN.
    My lady is unkind, really.

Malvolio.
Idiot!

CLOWN.
    Why is she like this?

Malvolio: Fool, I said!

CLOWN.
    She loves someone else—
Who’s calling, huh?

MALVOLIO.
Good fool, as long as you want to earn my favor, help me find a candle, and get me pen, ink, and paper. As I’m a gentleman, I’ll be grateful to you for it.

CLOWN.
Master Malvolio?

Sure thing, fool.

CLOWN.
Oh no, sir, how did you lose your senses?

MALVOLIO.
Fool, no one has ever been so badly treated. I'm just as sane as you are, fool.

CLOWN.
But really? Then you must be crazy if you’re not any sharper than a fool.

MALVOLIO.
They’ve set me up here; they keep me in the dark, send me lackeys, fools, and do everything they can to drive me crazy.

CLOWN.
Let me tell you what to say: the minister is here. [As Sir Topas] Malvolio, Malvolio, may the heavens bring back your sanity. Try to get some sleep and stop your pointless chatter.

Malvolio.
Sir Topas!

CLOWN.
[As Sir Topas] Don’t say anything to him, friend. [As himself] Who, me? Not me, sir. Goodbye, good Sir Topas. [As Sir Topas] Well, amen. [As himself] I will, sir, I will.

MALVOLIO.
Idiot, idiot, idiot, I say!

CLOWN.
Oh no, sir, please be patient. What do you say, sir? I'm sorry for talking to you.

MALVOLIO.
Good fool, please help me get some light and some paper. I assure you I'm just as sane as anyone in Illyria.

CLOWN.
Well, that was something, sir!

MALVOLIO.
I really am. Good fool, get me some ink, paper, and a light, so I can write down what I want to send to my lady. This will benefit you more than ever carrying a letter did.

CLOWN.
I’ll help you with that. But tell me honestly, are you really crazy? Or are you just pretending?

MALVOLIO.
Honestly, I'm not. I'm telling you the truth.

CLOWN.
No way, I won’t believe a crazy person until I see his brains. I’ll get you some light, paper, and ink.

MALVOLIO.
Fool, I'll pay you back in the biggest way possible: please leave.

CLOWN.
[Singing.]
  I’m gone, sir, but I’ll be back with you soon,
    In no time, like the old Vice,
  Here to support your needs;
  Who with a wooden dagger, in his anger and fury,
    Shouts ‘ah, ha!’ at the devil:
  Like a wild kid, ‘Trim your nails, dad.
    See you later, goodman devil.’

[Log out.]

Enter Sebastian.

SEBASTIAN.
This is the sky; that’s the shining sun,
This pearl she gave me, I can feel it and see it,
And even though it's a wonder that has me wrapped up like this,
It's not madness. Where’s Antonio, then?
I couldn’t find him at the Elephant,
Yet he was there, and that's where I found this proof,
That he searched the town to find me.
His advice could really help me now.
For although my soul argues well with my senses
That this could be some mistake, but not madness,
This situation and wave of good fortune
Far exceed anything I've seen or heard,
That I’m almost ready to doubt my own eyes
And challenge my reason, which insists
That I must trust in nothing but the idea that I’m mad,
Or that the lady is mad; yet if that were true,
She couldn’t run her household, command her followers,
Handle matters and their resolution,
With such smooth, careful, and steady demeanor
As I see she does. There’s something deceptive about it.
But here comes the lady.

Enter Olivia and a Priest.

OLIVIA.
Don't blame my rush. If your intentions are good,
Then come with me and this holy man
Into the chapel: there, in front of him
And under that sacred roof,
Promise me the complete assurance of your faith,
So my anxious and uncertain heart
Can find peace. He'll keep it hidden
As long as you want it to be known,
When we decide to hold our ceremony
In line with my social standing. What do you say?

SEBASTIAN.
I’ll follow this good guy and go with you,
And having sworn to be honest, I will always be true.

OLIVIA.
Then show us the way, good father, and may the heavens shine,
So that they can clearly see this deed of mine!

[Exit.]

Enter Clown and Fabian.

FABIAN.
Now, since you love me, let me see his letter.

CLOWN.
Hey Master Fabian, can you do me one more favor?

FABIAN.
Anything.

CLOWN.
Don't want to see this letter.

FABIAN.
This is to give a dog, and in return, I want my dog back.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio and Lords.

DUKE.
Do you belong to Lady Olivia, friends?

CLOWN.
Yeah, sir, we're part of her decorations.

DUKE.
I know you well. How are you, my good friend?

CLOWN.
Honestly, sir, that's better for my enemies and worse for my friends.

DUKE.
Actually, it's the opposite; it's better for your friends.

CLOWN.
No, sir, it's worse.

DUKE.
How can that be?

CLOWN.
Honestly, sir, they compliment me and then make a fool out of me. Now my enemies straight up tell me I'm a fool: so through my enemies, sir, I learn about myself, and my friends just ridicule me. So, to wrap it up, if your four negatives turn into two positives, then it's worse for my friends and better for my enemies.

DUKE.
This is awesome.

CLOWN.
Honestly, sir, no; but I’d be happy if you want to be one of my friends.

DUKE.
You won't be worse off because of me; there's money.

CLOWN.
But if it wouldn't be two-faced, sir, I wish you could make it something else.

DUKE.
Oh, you're giving me bad advice.

CLOWN.
Put your dignity aside this time, sir, and let your body follow your orders.

DUKE.
Well, I’ll be such a sinner to be two-faced: there’s another.