(lively music) (lively music) (rock music) (thunder rumbling) (music fading) - What country, friends, is this?

- This is Illyria, lady.

- And what should I do in Illyria?

My brother, he is in Elysium.

Perchance he is not drowned.

What think you, sailors?

- It is perchance that you yourself were saved.

- O my poor brother!

And so perchance may he be.

- True, madam.

And, to comfort you with chance, assure yourself, after our ship did split, when you and those poor number saved with you hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, most provident in peril, bind himself, courage and hop both teaching him the practise, to a strong mast that lived upon the sea.

Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves so long as I could see.

- For saying so, there's gold.

Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, whereto thy speech serve for authority, the like of him.

Know'st thou this country?

- Ay, madam, well.

For I was bred and born not three hours' travel from this very place.

- Who governs here?

- A noble duke, in nature as in name.

- What is his name?

- Orsino.

- Orsino!

I have heard my father name him.

He was a bachelor then.

- And so is now, or was so very late.

For but a month ago I went from hence, and then 'twas fresh in murmur - as, you know, what great ones do the less will prattle of - that he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

- What's she?

- A virtuous maid.

The daughter of a count that died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her in the protection of his son, her brother, who shortly also died.

For whose dear love, they say, she hath abjured the sight and company of men.

- O that I served that lady and might not be delivered to the world, till I had made mine own occasion mellow, what my estate is!

- That were hard to compass, because she will admit no kind of suit.

No, not the duke's.

- There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain.

I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.

I'll serve this duke.

Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him.

It may be worth thy pains for I can sing and speak to him in many sorts of music that will allow me very worth his service.

What else may hap, to time I will commit, only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

(dramatic music) - Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be.

When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

- I thank thee.

Lead me on.

(dramatic music) Play on Play on Play on Play Play Play on - If music be the food of love, play on.

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.

That strain again!

It had a dying fall.

(soft music) O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets, stealing and giving odour!

Enough.

No more!

'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.

Spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou that notwithstanding thy capacity receiveth as the sea, nought enters there.

Of what validity and pitch soe'er, but falls into abatement and low price even in a minute.

So full of shapes is fancy that it alone is high fantastical.

- Will you go hunt, my lord?

- What, Curio?

- The hart.

- Why, so I do, the noblest that I have.

(laughter) When mine eyes did see Olivia first, methought she purged the air of pestilence!

That instant was I turned into a hart.

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, e'er since pursue me.

How now!

What news from her?

- So please, my lord, I might not be admitted.

But from her handmaid do return this answer: the element itself, till seven years' heat, shall not behold her face at ample view.

But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk and water once a day her chamber round with eye-offending brine.

All this to season a brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh and lasting in her sad remembrance.

- O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame to pay this debt of love but to a brother?

How will she love, when the rich golden shaft hath killed the flock of all affections else that live in her; when liver, brain and heart, these sovereign thrones, are all supplied and filled her sweet perfections with one self king!

Away before me, to sweet beds of flowers.

Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

(laughing) (lively music) If music be the food of love Play on Play on Play on Play Play Play on Play on (applauding) - What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus?

I am sure care's an enemy to life.

- By my troth!

Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights.

Your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

- Why, let her except.

- Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

- Confine?!

I'll confine myself no finer than I am.

These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too.

An they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

(audience laughing) (applauding) - That quaffing and drinking will undo you.

I heard my lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.

- Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?

- Ay, he.

- He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

- Ah!

What's that to the purpose?

- Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

- Ay, but he'll have but a year in these ducats.

He's a very fool and a prodigal.

- By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so of him.

Who are they?

- They that add, moreover, that he's drunk nightly in your company.

- With drinking healths to my niece.

- Ugh... - I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria.

He's a coward and a coystrill that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn on the toe like a parish-top.

(man): Fore!

- What, wench!

Here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

- Sir Toby Belch!

(tires screeching) (audience laughing) (Belch clearing his throat) How now, Sir Toby Belch!

- Sweet Sir Andrew!

- Bless you, fair shrew.

- Ugh... (audience laughing) And you too, sir.

- Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.

- What's that?

(audience laughing) - My niece's chambermaid.

- Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

- My name is Mary, sir.

- Good Mistress Mary Accost-- (audience laughing) - You mistake, knight.

Accost is front her, board her, woo her, assail her.

(audience laughing) - By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company.

Is that the meaning of accost?

- Fare you well, gentlemen.

- An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again.

- An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again.

Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand?

(audience laughing) - Sir, I have not you by the hand.

- Marry, but you shall have, and here's my hand.

- Now, sir, thought is free.

I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.

(audience laughing) - Wherefore, sweetheart?

What's your metaphor?

- It's dry, sir.

- Why, I think so.

I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry.

But what's your breast?

Chest?

Jest?

(audience laughing) - A dry jest, sir.

- Are you full of them?

- Ay, I have them at my fingers' ends.

Marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren.

- O knight, thou lackest a cup of canary.

When did I see thee so put down?

- Well, never in your life, I think, unless you see canary put me down.

Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has.

But I am a great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit.

- No question.

- An I thought that, I'd forswear it.

Ah... - Ah!

- I'll ride home tomorrow, Sir Toby.

- Pourquoi, my dear knight?

- O, what is pourquoi?

Do or not do?

I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing and bear-baiting.

O, had I but followed the arts!

- Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

- Why?

Would that have mended my hair?

- Past question, for thou... thou seest it will not curl by nature.

- But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

- Excellent!

It hangs like... flax on a distaff.

And I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin it off.

- Faith!

I'll home tomorrow, Sir Toby.

Your niece will not be seen.

Or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me.

The count himself here hard by woos her.

- She'll none o' the count!

She'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit.

I have heard her swear't.

Tut, there's life in it, man.

- I'll stay a month longer.

(Belch laughing) I am a fellow of the strangest mind in the world.

I delight in masque and revels sometimes altogether.

- O, art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

- As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters.

And yet I will not compare with an old man.

- Oh!

What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

- Faith, I can cut a caper.

- Ah!

And I can cut the mutton to it.

- And I think I hav the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

(audience laughing) - Wherefore are these things hid?

Wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em?

Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in a coranto?

My very walk should be a jig.

(audience laughing) I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace.

(audience laughing) What dost thou mean?

Is it a world to hide virtues in?

I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

- Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a diverse-coloured stock.

(soft music) Shall we set about some revels?

- What shall we do else?

Were we not born under Taurus?

- Taurus!

That's sides and heart.

- No, sir, it is legs and thighs.

Let me see the caper.

Ha!

Ha!

Ah!

(laughing) Excellent!

Excellent!

(applauding) - If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced.

He hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

- You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love.

(hitting a ball) Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?

- No, believe me.

- I thank you.

(hitting a ball) Here comes the count.

- Who saw Cesario?

Ho!

- On your attendance, my lord.

Here.

(Orsino laughing) - Stand you a while aloof.

Cesario, thou know'st no less than all.

I have unclasp'd to the the book even of my secret soul.

Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her.

Be not denied access, stand at her door and tell them there thy fixed foot shall grow till thou have audience.

(hitting a ball) - Sure, my noble lord, if she be so abandoned to her sorrow as it is spoke, she never will admit me.

- Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds rather than make unprofited return.

(hitting a ball) - Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?

- O, then unfold the passion of my love, surprise her with discourse of my dear faith.

It shall become thee well to act my woes.

She will attend it better in thy youth than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.

- I think not so, my lord.

- Dear lad, believe it, for they shall yet belie thy happy years, that say thou art a man.

(ball passing by) (Orsino laughing) Diana's lip is not more smooth and rubious.

And thy small pipe is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound... (missing a ball) And... all is semblative a woman's part.

I know thy constellation is right apt for this affair.

(hitting a ball) (glass shattering) (audience laughing) (applauding) Some four or five attend him.

Or all, if you will.

For I myself am best when least in company.

(soft music) Prosper well in this, and thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, to call his fortunes thine.

- I'll do my best to woo your lady.

Yet, a barful strife!

Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

- Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse.

My lady will hang thee for thy absence.

- Let her hang me.

He that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.

- Make that good.

- He shall see none to fear.

- Ah!

A good lenten answer.

I can tell thee where that saying was born, of "I fear no colours."

- Where, good Mistress Mary?

- In the wars.

And that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

- Well, God give them wisdom that have it.

And those that are fools, let them use their talents.

- Yet, you will be hanged for being so long absent.

Or, to be... turned away.

Is not that as good as a hanging to you?

- Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.

(Mary sighing) (audience laughing) And for turning away, let summer bear it out.

- You are resolute, then?

- Ugh... Not so, neither.

But I am resolved on two points.

- Ah!

That if one break, the other will hold.

Or if both break, your breeches fall.

- Oh, apt, in good faith.

Very apt.

Well, go thy way.

If Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as ever in Illyria.

- Peace?

You rogue!

No more of that.

(man laughing) Here comes my lady.

Make your excuse wisely, you were best.

- God bless thee, lady!

- Take the fool away.

(snapping fingers) - Uh... Do you not hear, fellows?

Take away the lady.

- Go to, you're a dry fool.

I'll no more of you.

Besides, you grow dishonest.

- Uh, two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend.

For give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry.

(audience laughing) Bid the dishonest man mend himself.

If he mend, he is no longer dishonest.

Anything that's mended is but patched.

Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin.

And sin that amends is but patched with virtue.

As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty... is a flower.

The lady bade take away the fool.

Therefore, I say again, take her away.

- Sir, I bade them take away you.

- Misprision in the highest degree!

Lady, cucullus non facit monachum.

The hood makes not the monk.

That's as much to say as I wear not motley in my brain.

Uh, uh, good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.

- Can you do it?

- Uh, dexterously, good madonna.

- Make your proof.

- I must catechise you for it, madonna.

Good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

- Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof.

- Good madonna, why mournest thou?

- Good fool, for my brother's death.

- Ah.

I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

- I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

- The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.

Take away the fool, gentlemen.

- What think you of this fool, Malvolio?

Doth he not... mend?

- Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him.

Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.

- God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity for the better increasing your folly!

Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for tuppence that you are no fool.

- How say you to that, Malvolio?

- I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal.

I saw him put down the other day by an ordinary fool that had no more brain than a stone.

(sighing) Look you now, he's out of his guard already.

Unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged.

- Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite.

To be generous, guiltless and of a free disposition is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets.

There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail.

Nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

- Now Mercury endue thee with lying, for thou speakest well of fools!

- Madam!

There is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you.

- From the Count Orsino, is 't?

- I know not, madam.

'Tis a fair young man, and well attended.

- Which of my people hold him in delay?

- Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

(all sighing) - Fetch him off, I pray you.

He speaks nothing but madman.

Fie upon him!

Go you, Malvolio If it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home.

What you will to dismiss it.

(soft music) Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.

- Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool.

Whose skull Jove cram with brains!

For... Oh, here he comes.

(audience laughing) One of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.

- By mine honour, half drunk.

What is he at the gate, cousin?

- A gentleman!

- A gentleman?

What gentleman?

- 'Tis a gentleman here... (audience laughing) Ah!

Oh!

A plague on these pickle-herring!

(audience laughing) How now, sot!

- Ah!

Good Sir Toby!

- Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?

- Lechery!

I defy lechery!

(audience laughing) There's one at the gate.

- Ay, marry, what is he?

(Belch sighing) - Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not.

Give me faith, say I!

Oh... Oh... (audience laughing) Well, it's all one.

- What's a drunken man like, fool?

- Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man.

One draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him and a third drowns him.

- Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' my coz, for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drowned.

Go, look after him.

(sighing) - He is but mad yet, madonna.

And the fool shall look to the madman.

- Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you.

I told him you were sick.

He takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you.

I told him you were asleep.

He seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you.

What is to be said to him, lady?

He is fortified against any denial.

- Tell him he shall not speak with me.

- Has been told so.

And says he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you.

- What kind of man is he?

- Why, of... mankind.

(audience laughing) - What manner of man?

- Of very ill manner.

He'll speak with you, will you or no.

- Of what personage and years is he?

- Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy, as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple.

'Tis with him in standing water, between boy and man.

He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly.

One would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

(women laughing) (snapping fingers) (laughter stopping) - Let him approach.

Call in my gentlewoman.

- Gentlewoman, my lady calls!

- Give me my veil.

Come, throw it o'er my face.

We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

- The honourable lady of the house...

Which is she?

- Speak to me.

I shall answer for her.

Your will?

- Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable... beauty.

I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her.

I would be loath to cast away my speech, for besides that it is excellently well penned.

I have taken great pains to con it.

(women laughing) Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn.

I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage.

- Whence came you, sir?

- I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part.

Good gentle one, give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the house that I may proceed in my speech.

- Are you a comedian?

- No, my profound heart.

And yet, by the very fangs of malice I swear, I am not that I play.

Are you the lady of the house?

- If I do not usurp myself, I am.

- Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself, for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve.

But this is from my commission.

I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message.

- Come to what is important, in't.

I forgive you the praise.

- It alone concerns your ear.

I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage.

I hold the olive in my hand.

My words are as full of peace as matter.

- Yet you began rudely.

What are you?

What would you?

- The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment.

What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead.

To your ears, divinity.

To any other's, profanation.

- Give us the place alone.

We will hear this... divinity.

(soft music) Now, sir, what is your text?

- Most sweet lady-- - A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it.

Where lies your text?

- In Orsino's bosom.

- In his bosom?!

In what chapter of his bosom?

- To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.

- O, I have read it, it is heresy.

Have you no more to say to me?

- Good madam, let me see your face.

- Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face?

(sighing) You are now out of your text.

But we will... draw the curtain and show you the picture.

Look you, sir, such a one I was this present.

Is't not well done?

- Excellently done, if God did all.

- 'Tis in grain, sir 'Twill endure wind and weather.

- 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.

Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive if you will lead these graces to the grave and leave the world no copy.

- O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted.

I will give out divers schedules of my beauty.

It shall be inventoried, and every particle and utensil labelled to my will.

As item: two lips, indifferent red.

Item: two grey eyes, with lids to them.

Item, one neck, one chin and so forth.

Were you sent hither to praise me?

- Ha!

I see you what you are.

You are too proud.

But, if you were the devil, you are fair.

My lord and master loves you.

O, such love could be but recompensed, though you were crowned the nonpareil of beauty!

- How does he love me?

- With adorations, fertile tears, with groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

- Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him!

- If I did love you in my master's flame, with such a suffering, such a deadly life, in your denial I would find no sense.

I would not understand it.

- Why, what would you?

- Make me a willow cabin at your gate and call upon my soul within the house, write loyal cantons of contemned love and sing them loud even in the dead of night, halloo your name to the reverberate hills and make the babbling gossip of the air cry out... Olivia!

(soft music) O, you should not rest between the elements of air and earth, but you should pity me!

- You might do much.

What is your parentage?

- Above my fortunes, yet my state is well.

I am a gentleman.

- Get you to your lord!

I cannot love him!

Let him send no more!

Unless, perchance, you come to me again to tell me how he takes it.

(audience laughing) Fare you well.

I thank you for your pains.

Spend this for me.

- I am no fee'd post, lady.

Keep your purse.

My master, not myself, lacks recompense.

Love.

Make his heart of flint that you shall love and let your fervour, like my master's, be placed in contempt!

Farewell... fair cruelty.

- "What is your parentage?"

"Above my fortunes, yet my state is well.

I am a gentleman."

I'll be sworn thou art!

Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit do give thee five-fold blazon!

Not too fast.

Soft, soft... (audience laughing) Unless the master were the man.

How now!

Even so quickly may one catch the plague?

Methinks I feel this youth's perfections with an invisible and subtle stealth to creep in at mine eyes.

Well, let it be.

What ho, Malvolio!

- Here, madam, at your service.

- Run after that same peevish messenger, the county's man.

He... left... this ring behind him, would I or not.

Tell him I'll none of it.

Desire him not to flatter with his lord, nor hold him up with hopes, I am not for him.

If that the youth will come this way tomorrow, I'll give him reasons for it.

Hie thee, Malvolio.

- Madam!

I will... - I do I know not what, and fear to find mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.

Fate, show thy force.

Ourselves we do not owe.

What is decreed must be, and be this so!

(dramatic music) (jester): Will you stay no longer?

Nor will you not that I go with you?

- By your patience, no.

My stars shine darkly over me.

The malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours.

Therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone.

It were a bad recompense of your love to lay any of them on you.

- Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.

- No, sooth, sir.

You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian.

My father was Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of.

He left behind him myself... and a sister, both born in an hour.

If the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended!

But you, sir, altered that.

For some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned.

- Oh!

Alas the day!

- A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful.

She bore a mind that envy could not but call fair.

She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drow her remembrance again with more.

- Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.

- Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

- If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.

- If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not.

Fare ye well at once.

My bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me.

I am bound to the Count Orsino's court.

(soft music) Farewell.

If music be the food of love Play on Play on Play on The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!

I have many enemies in Orsino's court, else would I very shortly see thee there.

Ah!

But, come what may!

I do adore thee so that danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

If music be the food of love Play on Play on Play on - Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia?

- Even now, sir; on a moderate pac I have since arrived but hither.

(audience laughing) - She returns this ring to you, sir.

You might have saved me my pains to have taken it away yourself.

She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him.

And one thing more, that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this.

Receive it so.

(audience laughing) - She took the ring of me.

I'll none of it.

- Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her!

And her will is it should be so returned.

If it be worth stooping for... (dropping ring) There it lies in your eye.

If not, be it his that finds it!

- I left no ring with her!

What means this lady?

Fortune forbi my outside have not charm'd her!

She made good view of me.

Indeed, so much that straight methought her eyes had lost her tongue, for she did speak in starts distractedly.

She loves me, sure!

The cunning of her passion invites me in this churlish messenger.

None of my lord's ring!

Why, he sent her none.

I am... the man.

(audience laughing) If it be so, as 'tis, poor lady, she were better love a dream.

Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we.

For such as we are made of, such we be.

Oh!

How will this fadge?

My master loves her dearly.

And I, poor monster, fond as much on him.

And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.

What will become of this?

As I am man, my state is desperate for my master's love.

As I am woman... Now, alas the day, what thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?!

O Time!

Thou must untangle this, not I.

It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

(lively music) (Belch): Approach, Sir Andrew.

Not to be abed after midnight is to be up early.

And diluculo surgere, thou know'st-- - Nay, by my troth, I know not.

But I know, to be up late... is to be up late.

(audience laughing) - A false conclusion.

I hate it as an unfilled glass.

To be up after midnight is to be up early so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed... - Early!

(audience laughing) - Does not our lives consist of the four elements?

- Faith, so they say, but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking.

- Thou art a scholar.

Let us therefore eat and drink.

Marian, I say!

A stoup of wine!

(Andrew): Here comes the fool, i' faith!

(jester): How now, my hearts!

Did you never see the picture of We Three?

(laughter) - Welcome, ass.

Now let's have a catch.

- By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast.

I had rather than 40 shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing as the fool has.

In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus.

(Andrew laughing) (audience laughing) 'Twas very good, i' faith.

I sent thee sixpence for thy sweetheart.

Hadst it?

- I did impeticos thy gratillity.

(laughing) (audience laughing) - Excellent!

Heh!

Heh!

Now, a song.

- Oh!

- Come on, there is sixpence for you.

Let's have a song.

- There's a testril of me too.

If one knight give a... - Uh, will you have... a love-song, or... a song of good life?

- A love-song, a love-song.

- Ay, ay.

I care not for good life.

(audience laughing) (soft guitar music) O mistress mine Where are you roaming O stay and hear Your true love's coming That can sing Both high and low That can sing Both high and low Trip no further Pretty sweeting Journeys end In lovers' meeting Every wise man's son doth know Every wise man's son doth know Excellent good, i' faith.

- Good, good!

What is love 'Tis not hereafter Present mirth Hath present laughter What's to come Is still unsure What's to come Is still unsure In delay There lies no plenty Then come kiss me Sweet and twenty Youth's a stuff Will not endure Youth's a stuff Will not endure Youth's a stuff Will not endure (song finale) (applauding) (Andrew): A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

- A contagious breath.

- Very sweet and contagious, i' faith.

(sobbing) (audience laughing) - But shall we make the heavens dance indeed?

Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one song?

Shall we do that?

- An you love me, let's do't.

I am dog at a catch.

- Oh, by'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.

(laughing) (audience laughing) - Most certain.

(chuckling) Let our catch be Thou knave.

- Oh, "Hold thy peace, thou knave," knight.

Uh, I shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

- 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave.

Begin, fool.

It begins, "Hold thy peace."

- Oh, I shall never begin if I hold my peace.

(laughing) (audience laughing) - Good, i' faith.

Come, begin.

Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Thou knave Thou knave Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Thou knave Thou knave Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Thou knave Thou knave Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Thou knave Thou knave Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Thou knave Thou knave Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace (rock music) Ooh ooh ooh ooh Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Hold thy peace and I prithee hold thy peace Thou knave Ooh Ooh ooh ooh Hold thy peace Hold thy peace Hold thy peace Hold thy peace hold thy peace (rock music) (screaming) - Halt!

Halt!

Halt!

Hold my peace and hold my peace Hold my peace and... (audience laughing) What a caterwauling do you keep here?!

If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

- Am not I consanguineous?

(Mary): Shh!

- Am I not of her blood?

(soft music) Tillyvally!

Lady!

There dwelt a man in Babylon Lady lady - Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

- Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I too.

He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

(audience laughing) O the twelfth day of Christmas My true love gave to me 12 drummers drumming 11 pipers piping 10 lords a-leaping 9 ladies dancing 8 maids a-milking 7 swans a-swimming 6 geese a-laying 5 golden rings - For the love of God!

Peace!

- My masters, are you mad?!

Or what are you?!

Have ye no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night?!

Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice?!

Is there no respect of place, nor time in you?!

(audience laughing) (laughter) - We did keep time, sir, in our catches.

Sneck up!

- Sir Toby, I must be round with you.

My lady bade me tell you that though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders.

If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours... ...you are welcome to the house.

If not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.

(lively guitar music) Farewell dear heart since I must needs be gone Nay good Sir Toby His eyes do show His days are almost done Is it even so But I will never die Sir Toby there you lie This is much credit to you Shall I bid him go What an if you do Shall I bid him go and spare not O no no no no no you dare not - Out o' tune, sir.

You lie.

Art any more than a steward?

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

(audience laughing) - Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot in the mouth too.

- Thou'rt i' the right.

Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs.

A stoup of wine, Maria!

- Mistress Mary!

If you prized my lady's favour at anything more than contempt, you would not give means to this uncivil rule.

She shall know of it, by this hand.

(audience laughing) (Mary): Ah, go shake your ears!

(Belch laughing) - 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a-hungry, to challenge him the field and then to break promise with him and make a fool of him.

- Do it, knight.

I'll write thee a challenge or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

- Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight.

Since a youth of the count's was today with my lady, she is much out of quiet.

For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him.

If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think that I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed.

I know I can do it.

- Possess us, possess us.

Tell us something of him.

(doorbell ringing) - The devil a puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a time-pleaser.

(audience laughing) (applauding) (Mary sighing) An... affected ass, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies that it is his grounds of faith that all that look on him love him.

And on that vice will my revenge find notable cause to work.

- What wilt thou do?

- I will... drop in his way some... obscure epistles of love!

Wherein, by... the colour of his head, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated!

I can write very much like my lady, your niece.

On a forgotten matter, we can hardly make distinction of our hands.

- Excellent!

I smell a device!

- I have't in my nose too.

(audience laughing) - He shall think, from the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece and that she's in love with him!

- My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.

- And your horse would now make him an ass.

(laughter) - Ass, I doubt not.

(Andrew): O, 'twill be admirable!

- Sport royal, I warrant you.

For this night, to bed, and dream on the event.

Ah... Farewell.

- Good night, Penthesilea!

- Before me, she's a good wench.

- She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me.

What o' that?

- I was adored once too.

(audience laughing) - Let's to bed, knight.

Thou hadst need send for more money.

- If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.

(soft music) - Send for money, knight.

If thou hast her not i' the end, call me cut.

- If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.

- Come, come, I'll go burn some sack.

'Tis too late to go to bed now.

Come, knight.

Come, knight!

(applauding) - Give me some music!

(lively music) What is love 'Tis not hereafter Present mirth Hath present laughter What's to come Is still unsure What's to come Is still unsure In delay There lies no plenty Then come kiss me Sweet and twenty Youth's a stuff Will not endure Youth's a stuff Will not endure Youth's a stuff Will not endure Now, good morrow, friends.

(all): Good morrow.

- Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, that old and antique song we heard last night, methought it did relieve my passion much, more than light airs and recollected terms of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.

Come, but one verse.

- He is not here, so please, your lordship, that should sing it.

- Who... who was it?

- Feste, the jester, my lord.

A fool that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in.

He is about the house.

- Seek him out, and play the tune the while.

(Cesario chuckling) Come hither, boy.

(Orsino sighing) (soft music) If ever thou shalt love, in the sweet pangs of it remember me, for such as I am all true lovers are, unstaid and skittish in all motions else, save in the constant imag of the creature that is beloved.

How dost thou like this tune?

- It gives a very echo to the seat where love is throned.

- Thou dost speak masterly.

My life upon it, young though thou art, thine eye hath staye upon some favour that it loves.

(Orsino laughing) Hath it not, boy?

- A little, by your favour.

- What kind of woman is't?

- Of your complexion.

- Ugh!

She is not worth thee, then.

(audience laughing) What years, i' faith?

- About your years, my lord.

- Too old, by heaven.

Let still the woman take an elder than herself.

So wears she to him, so sways she level in her husband's heart.

For, boy however we do praise ourselves, our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn than women's are.

- I think it well, my lord.

- Then let thy love be younger than thyself, or thy affection cannot hold the bent.

For women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

- And so they are.

Alas, that they are so.

To die, even when they to perfection grow!

- O, come... fellow!

That song we had last night.

Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain.

The spinsters and the knitters in the sun and the free maids that weave their thread with bones do use to chant it.

It is simple truth, and dallies with the innocence of love, like the old age.

- Are you ready, sir?

- Ay.

Prithee, sing.

(soft music) Come away Come away death And in sad cypress Let me be laid Fly away Fly away breath I am slain By a fair cruel maid My shroud of white Stuck all with yew My shroud of white O prepare it My part of death No one so true No one so true Did share it Not a flower Not a flower sweet On my black coffin Let there be strown Not a friend Not a friend greet My poor corpse Where my bones Shall be thrown A thousand thousand Sighs to save Lay me down O where Where a sad true lover Never find my grave Never find my grave To weep there Fly away Fly away breath Come away Come away death (applauding) There's for thy pains.

- No pains, sir I take pleasure in singing, sir.

- I'll pay thy pleasure, then.

- Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or... another?

(audience laughing) - Give me now leave to leave thee.

- Now, the melancholy god protect thee.

And the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal.

I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything and their intent everywhere, for that's it that always makes a good voyage...!

Of nothing.

Farewell!

(audience laughing) - Let all the rest give place.

(lively music) Once more, Cesario, get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty.

Tell her that my love, more noble than the world, prizes not quantity of dirty lands.

The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, tell her I hold as giddily as fortune.

- But if she cannot love you, sir?

- I cannot be so answered.

- Sooth, but you must!

Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, hath for your love as great a pang of heart as you have for Olivia.

You cannot love her, you tell her so.

Must she not then be answered?

- There is no woman's sides can bide the beating of so strong a passion as love doth give my heart.

No woman's heart so big to hold so much.

They lack retention!

Alas, their love may be called appetite, that suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt.

But mine is as hungry as the sea, and can digest as much!

Make no compare between the love a woman can bear me and that I owe Olivia.

- Ay, but I know-- - What dost thou know?

- Too well what love women to men may owe!

In faith, they are as true of heart as we.

My father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship.

- What's her history?

- A blank, my lord.

(soft music) She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm in the bud, feed on her damask cheek.

She pined in thought.

And with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like patience on a monument, smiling at grief.

Was not this love indeed?

We men may say more, swear more, but indeed, our shows are more than will, for still we prove much in our vows, but little in our love.

- But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

- I am all the daughters of my father's house, and all the brothers too, and yet...

I know not.

Sir... shall I to this lady?

- Ay, that's the theme.

To her in haste.

Give her this jewel, tell her my love can give no place, bide no delay.

(soft music) (Belch): Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.

- Nay, I'll come.

If I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

- Here comes the little villain.

How now, my metal of India!

- Get ye all three into hiding!

Malvolio's coming down this walk!

(audience laughing) He has been yonder in the sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half-hour.

Observe him, for the love of mockery, for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him.

(Mary chuckling) Uh... close, in the name of jesting!

Lie thou... there, for here comes the trout that is be caught with tickling!

(audience laughing) - Tis but fortune.

All is fortune.

Maria once told me she did affect me, and I have heard herself come thus near that should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion.

(audience laughing) Besides, she uses me with a more... exalted respect than anyone else that follows her.

What should I think on't?

- Here's an overweening rogue!

- O, peace!

Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him.

How he jets under his advanced plumes!

(Andrew): 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!

- Peace, I say.

(audience laughing) - To be... Count Malvolio!

- Ah, rogue!

- Pistol him, pistol him!

- Peace, peace!

- There is example for't.

The lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe... - Fie on him, Jezebel!

- O, peace!

Now he's deeply in.

Look how imagination blows him.

(audience laughing) - Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state... - O, for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye!

- Calling my officers about me in my branched... velvet gown, having come from a day-bed where I have left Olivia... (kissing) ... sleeping... - Fire and brimstone!

- Peace, peace!

- And then... to have the humour of state, and after a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I would they should do theirs... (audience laughing) ...to ask for my kinsman Toby... - Bolts and shackles!

- Peace, peace, peace!

Now, now!

- Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him.

I... frown the while, perchance wind up my watch or play with my... some rich jewel.

Toby approaches, court'sies there to me... - Shall this fellow live?

- Though our silence be drawn from us with knives, yet peace.

- I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control.

- And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?

- Saying, "Cousin Toby, "my fortunes having cast me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech."

- What, what?

- "You must amend your drunkenness!"

- Out, scab!

- Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot!

- "Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight."

- That's me, I warrant you.

(audience laughing) - "'One Sir Andrew..." - I knew 'twas I!

(audience laughing) - What employment have we here?

By my life, this is my lady's hand.

'To the unknown beloved, this and my good wishes."

Her very phrases!

By your leave, wax.

Soft!

And the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal.

'Tis my lady.

To whom should this be?

(Fabian): This wins him, liver and all.

- "Jove knows I love.

"But who?

"Lips, do not move.

No man must know."

No man must know... What follows?

The numbers altered!

No man... must know.

If this should be thee, Malvolio?

- Marry, hang thee, brock!

- "I may command where I adore.

"But silence, like a Lucrece knife, "with bloodless stroke my heart doth gore.

M, O, A, I, doth sway my life."

- A fustian riddle!

- Excellent wench, say I.

- M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.... Nay, but first, let me see.

Let me see, let me see!

- What dish of poison has she dressed him!

- "I may command where I adore."

Why, she may command me.

I serve her, she is my lady.

Why, this is evident to any formal capacity.

There is no obstruction in this.

And the end... What should that alphabetical position portend?

If I could make that resemble something in me... Soft!

M, O, A, I... - O, ay!

He is now at a cold scent!

- M... Malvolio!

Why, that begins my name!

- Did not I say he would work it out?

The cur has an excellent nose.

- M...

But then, there's no consonancy in the sequel.

That suffers under probation.

A should follow, but O does.

- And O shall end, I hope.

- Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!

- And then I comes behind.

- Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you!

(audience laughing) - Moai!

(audience laughing) This simulation is not as the former.

And yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name.

Soft!

Here follows prose.

"If this fall into thy hand, revolve.

(audience laughing) (audience laughing) "In my stars I am above thee.

"But be not afraid of greatness.

"Some are born great, "some achieve greatness "and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.

(audience laughing) "Thy fates open their hands.

"Let thy blood and spirit embrace them.

"And to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, "cast thy humble haviour and appear fresh.

"Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants.

(audience laughing) "Let thy tongue tang arguments of state.

"Put thyself into the trick of singularity.

"She thus advises thee "that sighs for thee.

"Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, "and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered.

"I say, remember.

Go to, thou art made, "if thou desirest to be so.

If not, "let me see thee... "a steward still.

"The fellow of servants, and not worthy "to touch Fortune's fingers.

"Farewell, she that would alter services with thee, the fortunate...

unhappy."

Daylight and champaign discovers not more.

This is open.

I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man.

I do not now fool myself to let imagination jade me for every reason excites to this, that my lady... loves me.

(audience laughing) She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered.

And in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking.

I thank my stars!

Oh!

I am happy.

I will be strange, proud, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on!

Jove and my stars be praised!

Here is yet a postscript!

"Thou canst not choose but know who I am.

"If thou entertainest my love, "let it appear... in thy smiling.

"Thy smiles become thee well.

"Therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee."

(audience laughing) Jove, I thank thee!

I will smile!

I will do everything that thou wilt have me!

(applauding) (laughter) - I will not give my portion of this sport for a pension of thousands.

- I could marry this wench for this device.

- So could I too.

- And ask no other dowr with her but such another jest.

- Nor I neither.

- Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

(Belch): Wilt thou set thy foot on my neck?

- Or on mine either?

- Shall I play my freedom at dice, and become thy bond-slave?

- I' faith, or I either?

(audience laughing) - Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad!

- Nay!

But say true, does it work upon him?

- Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

- If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady.

He will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors!

(laughter) And cross-gartered, a fashion she detests!

And he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt!

(laughter) If you will see it, follow me.

- To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

(lively music) - I'll make one too!

(audience laughing) (humming) (applauding) (applauding) (rock music) Come live with me and be my love And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys groves hills and fields Woods or steepy mountain yields And we will sit upon the rocks And see the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies A cap of flowers and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull Fair lined slippers for the cold With buckles of the purest gold A belt of straw and ivy buds With coral clasps and amber studs And if these pleasures may thee move Come live with me and be Be Be my love The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning If these delights thy mind may move Then live with me and be Be Be my love (Olivia): Ooh!

If all the world and love were young And truth in every shepherd's tongue These pretty pleasures might be move To live with thee and be Be thy love The flowers do fade and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields A honey tongue a heart of gall Is fancy's spring but sorrow's fall Thy belt of straw and ivy buds Thy coral clasps and amber studs All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be Be thy love But could youth last and love still breed Had joys no date nor age no need Then these delights my mind might move To live with thee and be Be Be thy love Then live with me and be My love (applauding) - Save thee, friend, and thy music.

Dost thou live by thy... fender?

(audience laughing) - No, sir.

I live by the church.

- Art thou a churchman?

- No such matter, sir.

I do live by the church, for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

(audience laughing) - So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar if a beggar dwell near him, or the church stands by thy fender if thy fender stand by the church.

- You have said, sir.

To see this age!

A sentence is bu a cheveril glove to a good wit.

How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!

- I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.

- Not so, sir, I do care for something.

But on my conscience, sir, I do not care for you.

If that be to care for nothing, I would it would make you invisible.

- Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?

- No, indeed, sir.

The Lady Olivia has no folly.

She will keep no fool, sir, till she be married.

(audience laughing) Fools are as like husbands as sardines are to herrings.

The husband's the bigger.

(audience laughing) I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

- I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.

- Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun.

It shines everywhere.

I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress.

I think I saw your wisdom there.

- Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee.

Hold, there's expenses for thee.

- Oh!

Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

(audience laughing) - By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin.

(audience laughing) Is thy lady within?

- Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?

- Yes, being kept together and put to use.

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

- I understand you, sir, 'tis well begged.

- The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar.

Cressida was a beggar.

My lady is within, sir.

I will construe to them whence you come.

Who you are and what you would are out of my welkin.

I might say "element", but the word is over-worn.

(sighing) - This fellow is wise enough to play the fool.

And to do that well craves a kind of wit.

He must observe their mood on whom he jests, the quality of persons, and the time.

This is a practise as full of labour as a wise man's art for folly that he wisely shows is fit.

But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

- Save you, gentleman.

- And you, sir.

- Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

- Et vous aussi, votre serviteur.

(audience laughing) - I hope, sir, you are and I am yours.

- Will you encounter the house?

My niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her - I am bound to your niece, sir.

I mean, she is the list of my voyage.

- Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.

- My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

- I mean to go, sir, to enter.

- I will answer you with gait and entrance.

But we are prevented.

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

- That youth's a rare courtier.

"Rain odours."

Well... - My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

- Odours, pregnant and vouchsafed.

I'll get 'em all three all ready.

- Let the garden door be shut and leave me to my hearing.

Give me your hand, sir.

- My duty, madam, and most humble service.

- What is your name?

- Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

- My servant, sir!

'Twas never merry world since lowly feigning was call'd compliment.

You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

- And he is yours, and his must needs be yours.

Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

- For him, I think not on him, for his thoughts, would they were blanks, rather than filled with me!

- Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts on his behalf.

- O, by your leave, I pray you, I bade you never speak again of him.

But, would you undertake another suit.

I had rather hear you to solicit that than music from the spheres.

- Dear lady-- - Give me leave, beseech you.

I did send, after the last enchantment you did here, a ring in chase of you.

So did I abuse myself, my servant and, I fear me, you.

Under your hard construction must I sit, to force that on you, in a shameful cunning, which you knew none of yours.

What might you think?

Have you not set mine honour at the stake and baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts that tyrannous heart can think?

To one of your receiving enough is shown.

A cypress, not a bosom, hides my heart.

So, let me hear you speak.

- I pity you.

- That's a degree to love.

- No, not a grize, for 'tis a vulgar proof that very oft we pity enemies.

- Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.

O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

If one should be a prey, how much the better to fall before the lion than the wolf!

(bells tolling) The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.

Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you.

And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, your were is alike to reap a proper man.

There lies your way, due west.

- Then westward-ho!

Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship!

You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

- Stay!

(audience laughing) I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.

- That you do think you are not what you are.

- If I think so, I think the same of you.

- Then think you right.

I am not what I am.

- I would you were as I would have you be!

- Would it be better, madam, than I am?

I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

- O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon than love that would seem hid.

Love's night is noon.

Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honour, truth and everything, I love thee so that even with thy pride, nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.

Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, for that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause, but rather reason thus with reason fetter, love sought is good, but given unsought is better.

(audience laughing) - By innocence I swear, and by my youth I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, and that no woman has, nor never none shall mistress be of it, save I alone.

And so adieu, good madam.

Never more will I my master's tears to you deplore.

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

If music be the food of love Play on Play on Play on (audience laughing) - No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.

- Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.

- You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

- Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving-man than she ever bestowed upon me!

I saw it in the orchard.

- Did she see thee the while, old boy?

Tell me that.

- As plain as I see you now.

- This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

- 'Slight, will you make an ass o' me?

- I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason.

- And they have been grand-jury-men since before Noah was a sailor.

- She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver.

You should then have accosted her and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness.

This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked.

- Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour.

Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him.

Hurt him in eleven places My niece shall take note of it.

And assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour.

- There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.

(audience laughing) (applauding) - Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

- Go, write it in a martial hand.

Be curst and brief.

It is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, full of invention.

Taunt him with the licence of ink.

If thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss.

Go, about it!

Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter.

About it.

- Where shall I find you?

- We'll call thee at the cubiculo.

Go!

(soft music) (audience laughing) (applauding) - This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

- I have been dear to him, lad some two thousand strong, or so.

- We shall have a rare letter from him.

- Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes.

- If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself into stitches, follow me.

Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado, for there is no Christian alive that can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness.

He's in yellow stockings.

- And cross-gartered?

- Most villanously, like a pedant that keeps a school in the church.

I have dogged him like his murderer.

He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him.

He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map.

You have not seen such a thing as 'tis.

I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.

I know my lady will strike him.

If she do, he will smile and take it for a great favour.

- Come, bring us, bring us where he is.

(thunder rumbling) (Sebastian): I would not by my will have troubled you.

But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you.

What's to do?

Shall we go see the reliques of this town?

- Tomorrow, sir Best first go see your lodging.

- I am not weary, and 'tis long to night.

I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes with the memorials and the things of fame that do renown this city.

- Would you'ld pardon me.

I do not without danger walk these streets.

Once, in a sea-fight, against the count, his galleys I did some service, of such note indeed that were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd.

- Belike you slew great numbers of his people.

- The offence is not of such a bloody nature.

Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel might well have given us bloody argument.

It might have since been answer'd in repaying what we took from them, which, for traffic's sake, most of our city did.

Only myself stood out.

For which, if I be lapse in this place, I shall pay dear.

- Do not then walk too open.

- It doth not fit me.

Hold, sir, here's my purse.

In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, is best to lodge.

I will bespeak our diet, whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge with viewing of the town.

There shall you have me.

- Why I your purse?

- Your store, I think, is not for idle markets, sir.

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

- To the Elephant.

- I do remember.

(thunder rumbling) (rock music) The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning If these delights Thy mind may move Then live with me and be my love - I have sent after him.

He says he'll come.

How shall I feast him?

What bestow of him?

For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd.

Where is Malvolio?

He is sad and civil and suits well for a servant with my fortunes.

Where is Malvolio?

- He's coming, madam, but in very strange manner.

He is, sure, possessed, madam.

- Why, what's the matter?

Does he rave?

- No, madam.

He does nothing but smile.

Your ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if he come.

For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits.

- Go call him hither.

I am as mad as he, if sad and merry madness equal be.

(audience laughing) How now, Malvolio!

- Sweet lady, ho, ho.

(audience laughing) - Smilest thou?

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

- Sad, lady!

I could be sad.

This does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering.

But what of that?

If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is " Please one, and please all. "

(audience laughing) - Why, how dost thou, man?

What is the matter with thee?

- Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs.

It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

(audience laughing) - Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

- To bed!

Ay, sweetheart, and I'll come to thee.

(audience laughing) - God comfort thee!

Why dost thou smile so and kiss thy hand so oft?

- How do you, Malvolio?

- At your request!

Yes!

Nightingales answer daws.

- Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

- "Be not afraid of greatness."

'Twas well writ.

- What meanest thou by this, Malvolio?

- "Some are born great, some achieve greatness--" - What sayest thou?

- "And some have greatness thrust upon them."

- Heaven restore thee!

- "Remember who commended thy yellow stockings--" - Thy yellow stockings?!

- "And wished to see thee ever cross-gartered."

- Cross-gartered?!

- "Go to..." Ah!

(audience laughing) "Thou art made, if thou desirest to be so--" - Am I made?

- "If not, let me see thee a servant still."

Ooh!

(audience laughing) - Why, this is very midsummer madness.

- Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is returned.

I could hardly entreat him back.

He attends your ladyship's pleasure.

- I'll come to him.

Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to.

Where's my cousin Toby?

Let some of my people have a special care of him.

I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry.

- O, ho!

Do you come near me now?

No worse man than Sir Toby to look to me!

This concurs directly with the letter.

She sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him.

For she incites me to that in the letter.

"Cast thy humble haviour," says she.

And when she went away now, "Let this fellow be looked to."

Fellow!

Not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but... fellow.

Why, everything adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance!

What can be said?

Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes.

Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

- Which way is he, in the name of sanctity?

If all the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Satan himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.

- Here he is, here he is.

(audience laughing) How is't with you, sir?

How is't with you, man?

- Go off, I discard you.

Let me enjoy my private.

Go off.

- Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him!

Did not I tell you?

Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him.

- Ah, ha!

Does she so?

- Go to, go to.

Peace, peace!

We must deal gently with him.

Let me alone.

How do you, Malvolio?

How is't with you?

What, man!

Defy the devil!

Consider he's an enemy to mankind.

- Do you know what you say?

- Look!

And you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart!

Pray God, he be not bewitched!

- How now, mistress!

- O, Lord!

- Prithee, hold thy peace.

- The fiend is rough and will not be roughly used.

- Why, how now, my bawcock!

How dost thou, chuck?

- Sir!

- Ay, biddy, come with me.

What, man!

'Tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan.

Hang him, foul collier!

- Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby!

Get him to pray!

- My prayers, minx!

- No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness!

(whimpering) (audience laughing) - Go hang yourselves all!

You are idle shallow things.

I am not of your element.

You shall know more hereafter.

(audience laughing) (Belch): Is't possible?

- If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

- His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.

- Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint.

- Why, we shall make him mad indeed.

- The house will be the quieter.

- Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound.

My niece is already in the belief that he's mad.

We may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him.

But see, but see.

- More matter for a May morning.

- Here's the challenge, read it.

I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't.

- Is't so saucy?

- Ay, is't, I warrant him.

Do but read.

- Give me.

Go, Sir Andrew, scout me for him at the corner the orchard like a bum-bailiff.

So soon as ever thou seest him, draw.

And as thou drawest, swear horrible, for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath gives manhood more approbation!

Away!

- Nay!

Let me alone for swearing.

Sacrebleu!

(audience laughing) - This letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth.

He will find it comes from a clodpole.

But, sir, I will delive his challenge by word of mouth.

This will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.

- Here he comes with your niece.

Give them room till he take leave, and presently after him.

- I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge.

- I have said too much unto a heart of stone and too unwisely laid mine honour out.

There's something in me that reproves my fault.

But such a headstrong potent fault it is, that it but mocks reproof.

- With the same haviour that your passion bears goes on my master's griefs.

- Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture.

Refuse it not.

It hath no tongue to vex you.

And I beseech you, come again tomorrow.

What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, that honour saved may upon asking give?

- No thing but this: your true love for my master.

- How with mine honour may I give him that which I have given to you?

- I will acquit you.

- Well, come again tomorrow!

(audience laughing) Fare you well.

A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.

- Gentleman, God save thee.

- And you, sir.

- That defence thou hast, betake thee to't.

Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not.

But thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end.

Be yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful and deadly.

- You mistake, sir, I am sure.

No man hath any quarrel to me.

My remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man.

- You'll find it otherwise, I assure you.

Therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard.

For your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill and wrath can furnish man withal.

- I pray you, sir, what is he?

- He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier.

But he is a devil in private brawl.

Souls and bodies hath he divorced three.

(audience laughing) And his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre.

- I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady.

I am no fighter.

- Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me, which, with as much safety, you might answer him.

Therefore, strip your sword stark naked.

For meddle you must.

- I beseech you, do me this courteous office as to know of the knight what my offence to him is.

It is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.

- I will do so.

Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return.

- Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?

- I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more.

- I beseech you, what manner of man is he?

- He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria.

I will make your peace with him if I can.

- I shall be much bound to you for't!

- Why, man, he's a very devil!

I have not seen such a firago.

I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard and all, and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable.

And on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on.

They say he has been fencer to the Sophy.

- Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him.

- Ay, but he will not now be pacified.

Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.

(audience laughing) - Plague on't, and I thought he'd been valiant and so cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld have challenged him.

Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet.

- I'll make the motion.

Stand here, make a good show on it.

This shall en without the perdition of souls.

Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you.

I have his horse to take up the quarrel.

I have persuaded him the youth's a devil.

- He is as horribly conceited of him.

And pants and looks pal as if a bear were at his heels.

- There's no remedy, sir.

He will fight with you for his oath sake.

(screaming) (audience laughing) (coughing) Marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel.

He finds that now scarce to be worth talking of.

Therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow, he protests he will not hurt you.

- Pray God, defend me!

A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.

(audience laughing) - Give grounds if you see him furious.

- Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy.

The gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you.

He cannot by the duello avoid it.

But he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you.

- Pray God, he keep his oath!

- I do assure you, 'tis against my will.

(audience laughing) (audience laughing) (snorting) (Andrew barking) (Cesario screaming) (whispering) (sneezing) - Ah!

(laughing) (audience laughing) - Put up your sword.

(audience laughing) If this young gentleman has done offence, I take the fault on me.

If you offend him, I for him defy you.

- You, sir!

Why?

What are you?

- One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more than you have heard him brag to you he will.

- Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

- Sir Toby, hold!

Here come the officers.

- I'll be with you anon - Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.

- Marry, will I, sir.

And, for that I promised you, I'll be as good as my word.

He will bear you easily and reins well.

- This is the man.

Do thy office.

- Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino.

- You do mistake me, sir.

- No, sir, no jot.

I know your favour well, though now you have no sea-cap on your head.

Bring him away.

He knows I know him well.

- I must obey.

This comes with seeking you.

But there's no remedy.

I shall answer it.

What will you do, now my necessity makes me ask you for my purse?

It grieves me much more for what I cannot do for you than what befalls myself.

You stand amazed.

But be of comfort.

- Come, sir, away.

- I must entreat of you some of that money.

- What money, sir?

For the fair kindness you have show'd me here, and, part, being prompted by your present trouble, out of my lean and low ability I'll lend you something.

My having is not much.

I'll make division of my present with you.

There's half my coffer.

- Will you deny me now?

Is't possible that my deserts to you can lack persuasion?

Do not tempt my misery, lest that it make me so unsound a man as to upbraid you with those kindnesses that I have done for you.

- I know of none.

Nor know I you by voice or any feature.

- O, heavens themselves!

- Come, sir, I pray you, go.

- Wait!

Let me speak a little.

This youth that you see here I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death, Relieved him with such sanctity of love.

And to his image, which methought did promise most venerable worth, did I devotion.

- What's that to us?

The time goes by.

Away!

- But O how vile an idol proves this god.

Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.

In nature there's no blemish but the mind.

None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind.

Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil.

- The man grows mad.

- Bring him away!

- Come.

Come, sir!

- Lead me on.

- Methinks his words do from such passion fly that he believes himself.

So do not I.

Prove true, imagination.

O, prove true that I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!

- Come hither, knight.

Come hither, Fabian.

We'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws.

- He named Sebastian.

I my brother know yet living in my glass.

Even such and so in favour was my brother, and he went still in this fashion, colour, ornament for him I imitate.

O, if it prove, tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love.

- A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare.

His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity and denying him.

And for his cowardship-- - 'Slid, I'll after him again and... beat him.

- Do!

Cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword.

- An I do not!

- Come, let's see the event.

- I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet.

- Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?

- Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow.

Let me be clear of thee.

- Well held out, i' faith!

No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my lady to bid you come speak with her, is not Master Cesario, nor this is not my nose neither.

(audience laughing) Nothing that is so is so.

- I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else.

Thou know'st not me.

- Vent my folly?

He has heard that word of some great man and now applies it to a fool.

Vent my folly!

I prithee now, ungird thy strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my lady.

Shall I vent to her that thou art coming?

- I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me.

There's money for thee.

If you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.

- By my troth, thou hast an open hand.

These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report at a high price.

(audience laughing) - Now, sir, have I met you again?

There's for you.

(audience laughing) - Why, there's for thee, and there, and there.

(screaming) Are all the people mad?

- Hold, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.

- This will I tell my lady straight.

I would not be in some of your coats for tuppence.

- Come on, sir.

Hold.

- Nay, let him alone.

I'll go another way to work with him.

I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria.

Though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that.

- Let go thy hand.

- Come, sir, I'll not let you go.

Come, my young soldier, put up your iron.

You are well fleshed.

Come on.

- I will be free from thee.

What wouldst thou now?

If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword.

- What, what?

Nay!

Then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.

- Hold, Toby!

On thy life I charge thee, hold!

(audience laughing) - Ay, madam!

- Will it be ever thus?

Ungracious wretch, fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, where manners ne'er were preach'd!

Out of my sight!

Be not offended, dear Cesario.

(audience laughing) Rudesby, be gone!

(soft music) I prithee, gentle friend, let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway in this uncivil and unjust extent against thy peace.

Go with me to my house, and hear thou there how many fruitless pranks this ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby mayst smile at this.

Thou shalt not choose but go.

Do not deny.

Beshrew his soul for me, he started one poor heart of mine in thee.

- What relish is in this?

(audience laughing) How runs the stream?

Or I am mad, or else this is a dream?

Let fancy still my sense in lethe steep.

If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

(audience laughing) - Nay, come, I prithee.

Would thou'ldst be ruled by me!

- Madam, I will.

- O, say so, and so be!

(rock music) - Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate.

Do it quickly.

I'll call Sir Toby the whilst.

- Well, I'll...

I'll put it on.

(audience laughing) And I will dissemble myself in it.

And I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown.

Oh!

The competitors enter.

- Jove bless thee, master Parson.

- Bonos dies, Sir Toby.

For, as the old hermit of Prague that never saw pen and ink very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, "That that is...

is."

So I, being Master Parson, am... Master Parson.

For what is that but that, and is but is?

- To him, Sir Topas.

(audience laughing) (Feste): What, ho, I say!

Peace in this prison!

- The knave counterfeits well.

A good knave.

- Who calls there?

- Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.

- Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

- Out, hyperbolical fiend!

How vexest thou this man!

Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

- Well said, Master Parson.

- Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged.

Good Sir Topas, do not think that I am mad.

They have laid me here in hideous darkness.

- Fie, thou dishonest Satan!

I call thee by the most modest terms, for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy.

Sayest thou that house is dark?

- As hell, Sir Topas.

- Why it hath bay windows transparent and yet complainest thou of obstruction?

- I am not mad, Sir Topas.

I say to you, this house is dark.

- Madman, thou errest.

I say, there is no darkness but ignorance, in which thou art more puzzle than the Egyptians in their fog.

- I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell.

And I say, there was never man thus abused.

I am no more mad than you are.

Make the trial of it in any constant question.

- What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?

(audience laughing) - That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

- What thinkest thou of his opinion?

- I think nobly of the soul and no way approve his opinion.

- Fare thee well.

Remain thou still in darkness!

Thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam.

Fare thee well.

- Sir Topas?

Sir Topas!

(laughing) - My most exquisite Sir Topas!

- Nay, I am for all waters.

- Thou mightst have done this without thy gown.

He sees thee not.

- To him in thine own voice and bring me word how thou findest him.

I would we were well rid of this knavery.

If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he were, for I am now so far in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this... sport to the upshot.

Come by and by to my chamber.

- Uno, dos, tres, quatro!

(rock music) Hey Robin Jolly Robin Tell me how thy lady does My lady is unkind perdy Alas why is she so She loves another She loves another one She loves another better than me She loves another better than me - Fool!

Fool!

Fool!

Hey Robin Hey Robin Jolly Robin Jolly Robin Tell me how thy lady does My lady is unkind perdy Alas why is she so She loves another She loves another one She loves another better than me She loves another better than me She loves Another She loves Another (audience laughing) Fool!

Fool!

Fool, I say!

- Alas, sir, be patient.

(knocking) - Oh!

- What say you sir I am shent for speaking to you.

- Good fool, help me to some light and some paper.

I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.

- Well-a-day that you were, sir.

- By this hand, I am!

(sighing) Good fool, some ink, paper and light.

And convey what I will set down to my lady.

It shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.

- I will help you to't.

But tell me true, are you not mad indeed?

Or do you but counterfeit?

- Believe me, I am not.

I tell thee true.

- Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains.

- Oh!

- I will fetch you light and paper and ink.

- I'll requite it in the highest degree.

I prithee, be gone.

I am gone sir And anon sir I'll be with you again In a trice Like to the old vice Your need to sustain Who with dagger of lath In his rage and his wrath Cries ah ha to the devil Like a mad lad to the devil Pare thy nails dad To the devil Adieu Good man devil (harmonica) (applauding) - This is the air.

That is the glorious sun.

This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't.

And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, yet 'tis not madness.

Where's Antonio, then?

I could not find him at the Elephant, yet there he was and there I found this report that he did range the town to seek me out.

His counsel now might do me golden service.

For though my soul disputes well with my sense, that this may be some error, but no madness.

Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune so far exceed all instance, all discourse, that I am ready to distrust mine eyes and wrangle with my reasoning that persuades me to any other trust but that I am mad... (sobbing) Or else the lady's mad.

Yet, if 'twere so, she could not sway her house, command her followers, take and give back affairs and their dispatch with such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing as I perceive she does.

There's something in it that is deceiveable.

(soft music) But here the lady comes.

- Blame not this haste of mine.

If you mean well, now go with me and with this holy man into the chantry by.

There, before him, and underneath that consecrated roof, plight me the full assurance of your faith.

That my most jealous and too doubtful soul may live at peace.

What do you say?

- I'll follow this good man and go with you.

And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

(rock music) - Then lead the way, good father.

And heavens so shine, that they may fairly note this act of mine!

(Sebastian laughing) - Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.

- Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

- Anything.

- Do not desire to see this letter.

- This is to give a dog and in recompense desire my dog again.

- Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

- Ay, sir.

We are some of her trappings.

- I know thee well.

How dost thou, my good... fellow?

(audience laughing) - Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends.

- Just the contrary.

The better for thy friends.

- No, sir, the worse.

- How can that be?

- Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me.

Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass, so that by my foes, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends, I am abused.

So that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives why then, the worse for my friends and the better for my foes.

(laughing) - Why, this is excellent.

- By my troth, sir, no.

Though it please you to be one of my... friends.

(audience laughing) - Thou shalt not be the worse for me.

There's gold.

- O!

But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.

- O, you give me ill counsel.

- Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.

- Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer.

There's another.

- Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play.

And the old saying is, the third pays for all.

The triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure, or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind.

One, two, three.

- You can fool no more money out of me at this throw.

If you will let your lady kno that I am here to speak with her and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.

- Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again.

I go, sir.

But I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness.

But, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon.

- Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.

- That face of his I do remember well.

Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd as black as Vulcan in the smoke of war.

What's the matter?

- Orsino, this is that Antonio that took the Phoenix and her freight from Candy.

And this is he that did the Tiger board, when your young nephew Titus lost his leg.

Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, in private brabble did we apprehend him.

- He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side.

But in conclusion put strange speech upon me.

I know not what 'twas but distraction.

- Notable pirate!

Thou salt-water thief!

What foolish boldness has brought thee to their mercies, whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, hast made thine enemies?

- Orsino, noble sir, be pleased I shake off these names you give me.

Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, though I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsino's enemy.

A witchcraft drew me hither.

That most ingrateful boy there by your side, from the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth, did I redeem.

For his sake did I expose myself, pure for his love, into the danger of this adverse town.

Drew to defend him when he was beset.

Where being apprehended, his false cunning denied me mine own purse, which I had recommended to his use not half an hour before.

- How can this be?

- When came he to this town?

- Today, my lord.

And for three months before, no interim, not a minute's vacancy, both day and night did we keep company.

- Here comes the countess.

Now heaven walks on Earth.

But for thee, fellow.

Fellow, thy words are madness.

Three months this youth hath tended upon me.

But more of that anon.

Take him aside.

- What would my lord, but that he may not have, wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?

Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.

- Madam!

- Gracious Olivia.

- What say, Cesario?

Good, my lord!

- My lord would speak.

My duty hushes me.

- If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, it is as fat and fulsome to mine ear as howling after music.

(audience laughing) - Still so cruel?

- Still so constant, lord.

- What, to perverseness?

You uncivil lady, to whose ingrate and unauspicious altars my soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out that e'er devotion tender'd!

What shall I do?

- Even what it shall please my lord, that shall become him.

- Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, kill what I love?

A savage jealousy that sometimes savours nobly.

Come, boy, with me.

My thoughts are ripe in mischief!

I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, to spite a raven's heart within a dove.

- And I, most jocund, apt and willingly, to do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

- Where goes Cesario?

- After him I love!

More than I love these eyes, more than my life, more, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.

If I do feign, you witnesses above punish my life for tainting of my love!

- Ay me, detested!

How am I beguiled!

- Who does beguile you?

Who does do you wrong?

- Hast thou forgot thyself?

Is it so long?

Call forth the holy father.

- Come, away!

- Whither, my lord?

Cesario!

Husband!

Stay!

- Husband?!

(audience laughing) - Ay, husband.

Can he that deny?

(audience laughing) - Her husband, sirrah?

- No, my lord, not I.

- Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear that makes thee strangle thy propriety.

Fear not, Cesario.

Take thy fortunes up.

Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.

O, welcome, father!

Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, here to unfold, what thou dost know hath newly pass'd between this youth and me.

- A contract of eternal bond of love, confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, attested by the holy close of lips, strengthen'd by the interchangement of your rings.

And all the ceremony of this compact seal'd in my function, by my testimony.

Since when, my watch hath told me, towards my grave I have travell'd but two hours.

- Thou dissembling cub!

What wilt thou be when time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?

Farewell, and take her!

But direct thy feet where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

- My lord, I do protest-- - O, do not swear!

Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

- For the love of God, a surgeon!

Send one presently to Sir Toby.

- Why?

What's the matter?

- He has broke my head across and given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too.

For the love of God, your help!

I had rathe than forty pound I were at home.

- Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

- The count's serving man, one Cesario.

We took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

- My gentleman, Cesario?

- 'Od's lifelings, there he is!

(audience laughing) You broke my head for nothing.

And that that I did, I was set on to do it by Sir Toby.

- Why do you speak to me?

I never hurt you.

You drew your sword upon me without cause.

But I bespoke you fair and hurt you not.

- If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me.

I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.

Here comes Sir Toby halting.

You shall hear more.

But if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did.

- How now, gentleman!

How is't with you?

- That's all one.

Has hurt me, and there's the end on't.

Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot?

- O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone.

His eyes were set at eight i' the morning.

(audience laughing) - Then he's a rogue.

I hate a drunken rogue.

- Away with him!

Who has made this havoc with them?

- I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together.

- Will you help?

An ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull!

- Get him to bed and let his hurt be look'd to.

- I am sorry, I have hurt your kinsman.

But, had it been the brother of my blood, I must have done no less with wit and safety.

You throw a strange regard upon me.

(audience laughing) And by that I do perceive it hath offended you.

O, pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows we made each other but so late ago.

- One face, one voice, one habit and two persons.

A natural perspective, that is and is not!

- Antonio!

O, my dear Antonio!

(audience laughing) How have the hours rack'd and tortured me, since I have lost thee!

- Sebastian are you?

- Fear'st thou that, Antonio?

- How have you made division of yourself?

(audience laughing) An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin than these two creatures.

Which is Sebastian?

- Most wonderful!

(audience laughing) - Do I stand there?

I never had a brother.

Nor can there be that deity in my nature, of here and everywhere.

I had a sister, whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd.

Of charity, what kin are you to me?

What countryman?

What name?

What parentage?

- Of Messaline.

Sebastian was my father.

Such a Sebastian was my brother too, so went he suited to his watery tomb.

If spirits can assume both form and suit you come to fright us.

- A spirit I am indeed.

But am in that dimension grossly clad which from the womb I did participate.

Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, and say, "Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!"

- My father had a mole upon his brow.

- So had mine.

- And died that day when Viola from her birth had number'd 13 years.

- That record is lively in my soul!

He finished indeed his mortal act that day that made my sister 13 years.

(sobbing) (applauding) (laughter) - If nothing lets to make us happy both but this my masculine usurp'd attire, do not embrace me till each circumstance of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump... that I am Viola.

Which to confirm, I'll bring you to a captain in this town, where lie my maiden weeds, by whose gentle help I was preserved to serve this noble count.

All the occurrence of my fortune since hath been between this lady... and this lord.

- So comes it, lady, you have been mistook.

But nature to her bias drew in that.

You would have been contracted to a maid.

(audience laughing) Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived, you are betroth'd both to a maid and man.

- Be not amazed.

Right noble is his blood.

If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck.

(audience laughing) Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

- And all those sayings will I overswear.

And all those swearings keep as true in soul as doth that orbed continent the fire that severs day from night.

- Give me thy hand.

And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.

- The captain that did bring me first on shore hath my maid's garments.

He, upon some action, is now in prison, at Malvolio's suit, - He shall release him.

Fetch Malvolio hither.

And yet, alas, now I remember me, they say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.

How does he, sirrah?

- Truly, madam, he... (audience laughing) (audience laughing) Uh... he holds Beelzebub at the staves's end as well as a man in his case may do.

Has here writ a letter to you.

I should have given't you earlier, but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.

- Open't, and read it.

- Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman.

(clearing throat) (yelling): "By the Lord, madam--" - Hold now!

(audience laughing) Art thou mad?

- No, madam, I do but read madness.

And your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.

- I prithee, read it thy right wits.

- So I do, but to rea his right wits is to read thus.

Therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

(yelling): "By the Lord, madam!"

- Read it you, sirrah.

(audience laughing) (applauding) - "By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, "and the world shall know it.

"Though you have put me into darkness "and given your drunken cousin rule over me, "yet have I the benefit of my senses "as well as your ladyship.

"I leave my duty a little unthought of "and speak out of my injury.

The madly-used Malvolio."

- Did he write this?

- Ay, madam.

- This savours not much of distraction.

- See him deliver'd, Fabian.

Bring him hither.

My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, to think me as well a sister as a wife, one day shall crown the alliance on't, here at my house and at my proper cost.

- Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.

Your master quits you.

And for your service done him, so much against the mettle of your sex, so far beneath your soft and tender breeding, and since you call'd me master for so long, here is my hand.

You shall from this time be your master's mistress.

- A sister!

You are she.

(audience laughing) - Is this the man?

- Ay, my lord, this same.

How now, Malvolio!

- Madam, you have done me wrong, notorious wrong.

- Have I, Malvolio?

No.

- Lady, you have.

Pray you, peruse that letter.

You must not now deny it is your hand.

Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase, or say 'tis not your seal, not your invention.

You can say none of this.

Well, grant it then and tell me, in the modesty of honour, why you have given me such clear lights of favour, bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you, to put on yellow stockings and to frown upon Sir Toby and the lighter people.

And... acting this in an obedient... hope.

Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, and made the most notorious geck and gull that e'er invention play'd on?

Tell me why.

- Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, though, I confess, much like the character.

But out of question 'tis Maria's hand.

This practise hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee.

But when we know the grounds and authors of it, thyself shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge of thine own cause.

- Good madam, hear me speak.

And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come taint the condition of this present hour, which I have wonder'd at.

In hope it shall not, most freely I confess, myself and Toby set this device against Malvolio here.

Maria writ the lette at Sir Toby's great importance.

In recompense whereof he hath married her.

How, with a sportful malice it was follow'd, may rather pluck on laughter than revenge.

If that the injuries be justly weigh'd that have on both sides pass'd.

- Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!

- Why, some are born great... (audience laughing) ... some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrown upon them.

I was one, sir, in this interlude.

One Sir Topas, sir.

But that's all one.

"By the Lord, fool, I am not mad!"

But do you remember?

Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal and you smile not, he's gagged.

And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

- I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.

- He hath been most notoriously abused.

- Pursue him and entreat him to a peace.

Meantime, sweet sister, we will not part from hence.

Come, Cesario!

For so you shall be, when you are a man.

But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress... (applauding) ... and his fancy's queen.

(soft music) When that I was and a little tiny boy With hey ho (applauding) The wind and the rain A foolish thing Was but a toy For the rain it raineth every day But when I came To man's estate With hey ho The wind and the rain 'Gainst knaves and thieves Men shut their gate For the rain it raineth every day For the rain it raineth every day With hey ho For the rain for the rain it raineth every day (humming) But when I came Alas to wive With hey ho The wind and the rain By swaggering could I never thrive For the rain it raineth every day For the rain it raineth every day For the rain It raineth every day Everyday everyday Everyday everyday Everyday everyday Everyday everyday everyday But when I came Everyday Unto my beds Everyday The wind and the rain Everyday With toss-pots Still had drunken heads Everyday For the rain it raineth every day Everyday hey ho For the rain for the rain It raineth every day A great while ago The world begun With hey ho The wind and the rain But that's all one our play is done And we'll strive to please you every day For the rain it raineth every day Hey ho For the rain For the rain it raineth every day For the rain it raineth every day (applauding) (applauding) (cheering) (applauding) - Uno, dos, tres, quatro!

(rock music) (applauding) (cheering) (applauding) (cheering) (rock music) Closed Captioning: CNST, Montreal