Twelfth Night, Act 1, Scene 5

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.

No — either tell me where you've been, or I won't open my lips wide enough for a bristle to get through to make an excuse for you. My lady will hang you for being away.

Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.

Let her hang me. A man who's well hanged in this world has no need to fear enemy flags.

Make that good.

Prove it.

He shall see none to fear.

He won't see any to fear.

A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where that saying was born, of I fear no colours.

A thin, meagre answer. I can tell you where that saying came from — "I fear no colours."

Where, good Mistress Mary?

Where, good Mistress Mary?

In the wars, and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

In the wars — and you may be bold enough to repeat that in your clowning.

Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.

Well, God give wisdom to those who have it; and as for those who are fools, let them make use of their gifts.

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?

All the same, you'll be hanged for staying away so long — or else thrown out. Isn't that as good as hanging, to you?

Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out.

Many a good hanging forestalls a bad marriage; and as for being thrown out, let the summer weather see me through it.

You are resolute then?

So you're determined, then?

Not so, neither, but I am resolved on two points.

Not quite that, no, but I am resolved on two points.

That if one break, the other will hold; or if both break, your gaskins fall.

So that if one laces breaks, the other will hold; or if both break, your wide breeches fall down.

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 any in Illyria.

Neat, honestly, very neat! Well, off you go. If Sir Toby would give up drinking, you'd be as clever a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that. Here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.

Quiet, you rascal, no more of that. Here comes my lady. You'd better make your excuse cleverly.

Wit, and’t be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man. For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless thee, lady!

Wit, if it's your will, set me up for some good clowning! Those clever people who think they possess you very often turn out to be fools; and I, who am certain I don't have you, may pass for a wise man. For what does Quinapalus say? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless you, lady!

Take the fool away.

Take the fool away.

Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady.

Don't you hear, men? Take the lady away.

Go to, y’are a dry fool; I’ll no more of you. Besides, you grow dishonest.

Enough — you're a dull fool. I want no more of you. Besides, you're becoming unreliable.

Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Anything that’s mended is but patched; virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin, and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty’s a flower. The lady bade take away the fool, therefore, I say again, take her away.

Two faults, madonna, that drink and good advice will cure. Give the dry fool a drink, and then the fool isn't dry any more. Tell the unreliable man to mend himself; if he mends, he's no longer unreliable; if he can't, let the patcher of old clothes mend him. Anything that's mended is only patched: virtue that goes wrong is only patched with sin, and sin that reforms is only patched with virtue. If this simple piece of reasoning will do, fine; if it won't, what can be done? Just as there's no true betrayed husband except misfortune, so beauty is a flower. The lady ordered the fool taken away; so I say again, take her away.

Sir, I bade them take away you.

Sir, I ordered them to take you away.

Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non facit monachum: that’s as much to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.

A mistake of the highest order! Lady, cucullus non facit monachum: which is as much as to say, I don't wear a fool's motley in my brain. Good madonna, allow me to prove you a fool.

Can you do it?

Can you do it?

Dexteriously, good madonna.

Skilfully, good madonna.

Make your proof.

Give your proof.

I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

I must question you point by point for it, madonna. My good mouse of virtue, answer me.

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

Very well, sir — for lack of anything else to pass the time with, I'll put up with your proof.

Good madonna, why mourn’st thou?

Good madonna, why are you in mourning?

Good fool, for my brother’s death.

Good fool, for my brother's death.

I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

I think his soul is in hell, madonna.

I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen.

All the more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul when it's in heaven. Take the fool away, gentlemen.

What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

What do you think of this fool, Malvolio? Isn't he improving?

Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.

Yes, and he will go on improving until the agonies of death shake him. Growing weak, which ruins the wise, always makes the fool better.

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 twopence that you are no fool.

God send you a quick illness, sir, for the better increase of your foolishness! Sir Toby would swear on oath that I'm no fox, but he wouldn't give his word for twopence that you're no fool.

How say you to that, Malvolio?

What do you say to that, Malvolio?

I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he’s out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools’ zanies.

I'm amazed that your ladyship enjoys such a witless rascal. I saw him beaten in a contest the other day by a run-of-the-mill fool with no more brain than a stone. Look now, he's already lost his defence; unless you laugh and hand him openings, he's got nothing to say. I swear I think these clever people who crow so over this professional sort of fool are no better than the fools' stooges.

O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of 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.

Oh, you're sick with love of yourself, Malvolio, and your taste is that of a diseased appetite. To be noble-minded, free of guilt and open in nature is to treat as harmless blunt arrows what you judge to be cannonballs. There's no slander in a licensed fool, even if he does nothing but abuse people; nor any abuse in a man known to be careful and wise, even if he does nothing but criticise.

Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speak’st well of fools!

Now may Mercury give you the gift of lying, since you speak well of fools!

Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you.

Madam, there's a young gentleman at the gate who very much wants to speak with you.

From the Count Orsino, is it?

From Count Orsino, is he?

I know not, madam; ’tis a fair young man, and well attended.

I don't know, madam. He's a handsome young man, with a good many attendants.

Who of my people hold him in delay?

Which of my people is keeping him waiting?

Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

Sir Toby, madam, your relative.

Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman. Fie on him!

Get him away from there, please. He talks nothing but madman's nonsense. Shame on 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.

You go, Malvolio. If it's a petition from the Count, I'm ill, or not at home. Anything you like, to get rid of it.

Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.

Now you see, sir, how your clowning is getting stale, and people don't like it.

Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.

You've spoken up for us, madonna, as though your eldest son were destined to be a fool — may Jove stuff his skull with brains, for here comes one of your relatives with a very feeble brain lining.

By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin?

On my honour, half drunk. Who is it at the gate, cousin?

A gentleman.

A gentleman.

A gentleman? What gentleman?

A gentleman? What gentleman?

’Tis a gentleman here. A plague o’ these pickle-herrings! How now, sot?

It's a gentleman here. A plague on these pickled herrings! Well now, you drunkard?

Good Sir Toby.

Good Sir Toby.

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

Cousin, cousin, how have you got into this stupor so early?

Lechery! I defy lechery. There’s one at the gate.

Lechery! I reject lechery. There's someone at the gate.

Ay, marry, what is he?

Yes, indeed — who is he?

Let him be the devil an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.

Let him be the devil if he likes, I don't care. Give me faith, I say. Well, it makes no difference.

What’s a drunken man like, fool?

What is a drunken man like, fool?

Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him, and a third drowns him.

Like a drowned man, a fool and a madman: one drink more than enough to warm him makes him a fool, the second drives him mad, 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.

Go and fetch the coroner, and let him hold an inquest on my cousin, because he's at the third stage of drink — he's drowned. Go on, look after him.

He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman.

He's only mad so far, madonna; and the fool will look after 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’s fortified against any denial.

Madam, that young fellow out there swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he claims to understand that perfectly well, and so he comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to have known that in advance too, and so he comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, my lady? He's armed against every refusal.

Tell him, he shall not speak with me.

Tell him he will not speak with me.

Has been told so; and he says he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff’s post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he’ll speak with you.

He has been told that; and he says he'll stand at your door like the post outside a sheriff's house, and be the leg of a bench, but he will speak with you.

What kind o’ man is he?

What kind of man is he?

Why, of mankind.

Why, of the human kind.

What manner of man?

What sort of manner does he have?

Of very ill manner; he’ll speak with you, will you or no.

A very bad manner; he'll speak with you whether you want it or not.

Of what personage and years is he?

What appearance and what age 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.

Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; like an unripe pea pod before it's a pea pod, or a small green apple when it's almost an apple. He's at the turn of the tide, between boy and man. He is very good-looking, and he speaks very sharply. You would think his mother's milk was hardly out of him yet.

Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.

Let him come in. Call in my waiting-woman.

Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

Gentlewoman, my lady is calling.

Give me my veil; come, throw it o’er my face. We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.

Give me my veil; come, throw it over my face. We'll hear Orsino's message once more.

The honourable lady of the house, which is she?

The honourable lady of the house — which one is she?

Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will?

Speak to me; I'll answer on her behalf. What do you want?

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. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage.

Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty — please tell me if this is the lady of the house, for I have never seen her. I would hate to waste my speech; for besides being excellently well written, I've taken great trouble to learn it by heart. Good beauties, don't make me put up with any mockery; I'm very sensitive, even to the slightest unkind treatment.

Whence came you, sir?

Where did you come from, 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.

I can say little beyond what I've learned, and that question isn't in my part. Good gentle lady, give me a modest assurance, if you are the lady of the house, so that I can get on with my speech.

Are you a comedian?

Are you an actor?

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?

No, my deep-thinking one — and yet, I swear by the very fangs of malice, I am not what I play. Are you the lady of the house?

If I do not usurp myself, I am.

If I'm not stealing my own position, 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.

Most certainly, if you are she, you do steal from yourself; for what is yours to give away is not yours to keep back. But this is off my instructions. I'll go on with my speech in praise of you, and then show you the heart of my message.

Come to what is important in’t: I forgive you the praise.

Come to the important part of it: I let you off the praise.

Alas, I took great pains to study it, and ’tis poetical.

Oh dear, I took great trouble to learn it, and it's poetic.

It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: ’tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

Then it's all the more likely to be false; please keep it to yourself. I heard you were insolent at my gates, and I allowed you in to stare at you rather than to listen to you. If you're mad, go away; if you're sane, be brief: I'm not in the right phase of the moon to take part in such a flighty conversation.

Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way.

Will you set sail, sir? Your way out is here.

No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Tell me your mind. I am a messenger.

No, my good deck-scrubber, I'm to float here a little longer. Some calming down for your giant, sweet lady. Tell me your mind. I am a messenger.

Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.

Surely you have something horrible to deliver, when the polite part of it is so alarming. State your business.

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.

It concerns your ear only. I bring no declaration of war, no demand for tribute; I hold the olive branch in my hand: my words are as full of peace as their content.

Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?

Yet you began rudely. What are you? What do you want?

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.

The rudeness that has shown in me I learned from the reception I was given. What I am and what I want are as secret as a virgin's honour: to your ears, holy truth; to anyone else's, blasphemy.

Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity.

Leave us the room alone: we will hear this holy truth.

Now, sir, what is your text?

Now, sir, what is your text?

Most sweet lady—

Most sweet lady—

A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text?

A comforting doctrine, and much can be said about it. Where is your text found?

In Orsino’s bosom.

In Orsino's heart.

In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?

In his heart? In which chapter of his heart?

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

To answer in the same style, in the first chapter of his heart.

O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say?

Oh, I've read it; it's heresy. Have you nothing more to say?

Good madam, let me see your face.

Good madam, let me see your face.

Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? You are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain and show you the picture. [Unveiling.] Look you, sir, such a one I was this present. Is’t not well done?

Have you any authority from your lord to negotiate with my face? You've strayed from your text now: but we'll draw the curtain and show you the picture. [She takes off her veil.] Look, sir, this is what I looked like at this moment. Isn't it well done?

Excellently done, if God did all.

Excellently done, if God did all of it.

’Tis in grain, sir; ’twill endure wind and weather.

The colour is dyed right through, sir; it will stand up to wind and weather.

’Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Lady, you are the cruel’st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy.

It is beauty truly mixed, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and skilful hand put on. Lady, you are the cruellest woman alive if you will take these graces down to the grave and leave the world no copy of them.

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?

Oh, sir, I won't be so hard-hearted; I'll issue various written lists of my beauty. It shall be catalogued, and every item and piece of equipment labelled and attached to my will: for instance, item, two lips, moderately red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to go with them; item, one neck, one chin, and so on. Were you sent here to praise me?

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 recompens’d though you were crown’d The nonpareil of beauty!

I see what you are: you are too proud. But even if you were the devil, you are beautiful. My lord and master loves you. Oh, such love could only be properly repaid even if you were crowned the unequalled queen of beauty!

How does he love me?

How does he love me?

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

With worship, with abundant tears, with groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

Your lord does know my mind, I cannot love him: Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; In voices well divulg’d, free, learn’d, and valiant, And in dimension and the shape of nature, A gracious person. But yet I cannot love him. He might have took his answer long ago.

Your lord knows my mind: I cannot love him. Yet I believe him virtuous, I know him to be noble, of great property, of fresh and spotless youth; well spoken of by everyone, generous, learned and brave; and in build and natural shape a handsome man. But still I cannot love him. He could have taken his answer long ago.

If I did love you in my master’s flame, With such a suff’ring, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense, I would not understand it.

If I loved you with my master's passion, with such suffering, such a deathly life, I would find no sense in your refusal; I would not understand it.

Why, what would you?

Why, what would you do?

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; Hallow your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out Olivia! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me.

Build myself a hut of willow at your gate, and call out to my soul inside the house; write faithful songs of rejected love, and sing them out loud even in the dead of night; shout your name to the echoing hills, and make the chattering air cry out "Olivia!" Oh, you would have no rest anywhere between air and earth until you pitied me.

You might do much. What is your parentage?

You might do a great deal. What is your family?

Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman.

Above my present circumstances, though my condition is good enough: 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. Fare you well: I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.

Go back to your lord; I cannot love him. Let him send no more messages, unless, possibly, you come to me again to tell me how he takes it. Goodbye; I thank you for your trouble. Spend this for my sake.

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 Plac’d in contempt. Farewell, fair cruelty.

I am no paid messenger, lady; keep your purse. It's my master, not I, who lacks his reward. May Love make the heart of the man you come to love out of flint, and let your passion, like my master's, be treated with contempt. Goodbye, beautiful 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! 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!

"What is your family?" "Above my present circumstances, though my condition is good enough: I am a gentleman." I'd swear you are; your speech, your face, your limbs, your bearing and your spirit give you a coat of arms five times over. Not so fast: gently, gently! — unless the master were the servant. What's this? Can a person catch the plague as quickly as that? I think I feel this young man's perfections creeping in at my eyes with an invisible, delicate stealth. Well, let it happen. Hello there, Malvolio!

Here, madam, at your service.

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’t. Hie thee, Malvolio.

Run after that irritable messenger, the Count's man. He left this ring behind him, whether I wanted it or not; tell him I'll have nothing to do with it. Ask him not to encourage his lord with false hopes, nor keep him going with expectations; I am not for him. If the young man will come this way tomorrow, I'll give him my reasons for it. Hurry, Malvolio.

Madam, I will.

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!

I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm afraid I'll find that my eye has flattered my judgement too much. Fate, show your power: we don't own ourselves. What is decreed must happen; and let this be so!