Twelfth Night, Act 5, Scene 1

Now, as thou lov’st me, let me see his letter.

Now, if you love me, let me see his letter.

Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.

Anything.

Anything.

Do not desire to see this letter.

Don't ask to see this letter.

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

That's like giving someone a dog and then asking for my dog back as payment.

Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Do you belong to the Lady Olivia's household, friends?

Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.

Yes, sir, we're some of her decorations.

I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow?

I know you well. How are you, my good fellow?

Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.

Truly, sir, better off because of my enemies and worse off because of my friends.

Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

Just the opposite: better off because of your friends.

No, sir, the worse.

No, sir, worse off.

How can that be?

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, sir, 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.

Well, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my enemies tell me plainly that I am an ass, so that thanks to my enemies, sir, I gain in knowing myself, and thanks to my friends I'm deceived. So, if conclusions work like kisses, and your four negatives make your two affirmatives, then it's worse for my friends and better for my enemies.

Why, this is excellent.

Why, this is excellent.

By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends.

On my word, sir, it isn't, though you're pleased to be one of my friends.

Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there’s gold.

You won't be worse off because of me. Here's gold.

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

If it weren't double-dealing, sir, I'd wish you could make it another coin.

O, you give me ill counsel.

Oh, you give me bad advice.

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

Put your grace in your pocket, sir, just this once, and let your flesh and blood do what it says.

Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer: there’s another.

Well, I'll sin far enough to be a double-dealer. Here'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.

Primo, secundo, tertio is a good game, and the old saying goes, the third pays for all. Triple time, sir, makes a good dance measure; or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may remind you — one, two, three.

You can fool no more money out of me at this throw. If you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.

You can't fool any more money out of me on this throw. If you'll let your lady know I'm here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may wake my generosity up again.

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.

Well, sir, sing a lullaby to your generosity till I come back. I'm going, sir, but I wouldn't have you think that my wanting to have things is the sin of greed. But as you say, sir, let your generosity take a nap; I'll wake it soon.

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

Here comes the man, sir, who rescued 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. A baubling vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught and bulk unprizable, With which such scathful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet, That very envy and the tongue of loss Cried fame and honour on him. What’s the matter?

I remember that face of his well. But the last time I saw it, it was smeared as black as Vulcan with the smoke of war. He was captain of a worthless little ship, so shallow and small it was worth nothing, and with it he grappled so damagingly with the noblest ship of our fleet that even envy and the voices of the losers cried out his fame and honour. What's the matter?

Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix and her fraught 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.

Orsino, this is that Antonio who took the Phoenix and her cargo from Candy, and this is the man who boarded the Tiger when your young nephew Titus lost his leg. Here in the streets, reckless of shame and of his own safety, we arrested him in a private brawl.

He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side, But in conclusion, put strange speech upon me. I know not what ’twas, but distraction.

He did me a kindness, sir; he drew his sword on my side. But in the end he spoke strangely to me. I don't know what it was, except madness.

Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief, What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies?

Notorious pirate, you salt-water thief, what foolish daring brought you into the power of the men you have made your enemies at such bloody and such costly terms?

Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased that 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; a wreck past hope he was. His life I gave him, and did thereto add My love, without retention or restraint, All his in dedication. 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 (Not meaning to partake with me in danger) Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twenty years’ removed thing While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before.

Orsino, noble sir, allow me to shake off these names you give me. Antonio was never a thief or a pirate, though I admit that, with good enough cause and reason, I was Orsino's enemy. A kind of witchcraft drew me here. That most ungrateful boy there at your side — I rescued him from the raging, foaming mouth of the rough sea; he was a wreck beyond hope. I gave him his life, and added to it my love, with nothing held back or withheld, entirely devoted to him. For his sake I exposed myself, purely out of love for him, to the danger of this hostile town; I drew my sword to defend him when he was attacked. When I was arrested there, his false cunning — since he didn't intend to share the danger with me — taught him to deny brazenly that he knew me, and in the time it takes to blink he became someone twenty years out of my acquaintance. He denied me my own purse, which I had handed over for his use not half an hour before.

How can this be?

How can this be?

When came he to this town?

When did he come to this town?

Today, my lord; and for three months before, No int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy, Both day and night did we keep company.

Today, my lord; and for three months before that, with no break, not a minute's gap, we kept each other company both day and night.

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.

Here comes the Countess; now heaven walks on earth. But as for you, fellow — fellow, your words are madness. This young man has waited on me for three months. But more of that soon. 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.

What does my lord want — apart from the one thing he can't have — that Olivia might be able to provide? Cesario, you aren't keeping your promise to me.

Madam?

Madam?

Gracious Olivia—

Gracious Olivia—

What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord—

What do you say, Cesario? My good lord—

My lord would speak, my duty hushes me.

My lord wants to speak; my duty keeps me quiet.

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

If it's anything in the old tune, my lord, it's as sickening and disgusting to my ear as howling after music.

Still so cruel?

Still so cruel?

Still so constant, lord.

Still so constant, my lord.

What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull’st off’rings hath breathed out That e’er devotion tender’d! What shall I do?

What, constant in stubbornness? You rude lady, on whose ungrateful and unlucky altars my soul has breathed out the most faithful offerings that devotion ever made! What shall I do?

Even what it please my lord that shall become him.

Whatever it pleases my lord to do that suits him.

Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, Kill what I love?—a savage jealousy That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still. But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye Where he sits crowned in his master’s spite.— 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.

Why shouldn't I, if I had the heart to do it, kill what I love, like the Egyptian thief at the point of death? — a savage jealousy that sometimes has something noble about it. But listen to this: since you throw my faithfulness aside as worth nothing, and since I partly know the instrument that screws me out of my rightful place in your favour, go on living as the marble-breasted tyrant you are. But this favourite of yours, whom I know you love, and whom, I swear by heaven, I hold dear myself — him I will tear out of that cruel eye where he sits crowned, to his master's injury. Come, boy, come with me; my thoughts are ripe for mischief. I'll sacrifice the lamb that I love, to spite a raven's heart inside a dove.

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

And I, most cheerfully, readily and willingly, would die a thousand deaths to give you peace.

Where goes Cesario?

Where is Cesario going?

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.

After the man I love more than I love these eyes, more than my life, more, by every measure of more, than I shall ever love a wife. If I'm lying, you witnesses above, punish my life for corrupting my love.

Ah me, detested! how am I beguil’d!

Oh, I'm hated! How I've been tricked!

Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?

Who is tricking you? Who is wronging you?

Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy father.

Have you forgotten yourself? Has it been so long? Call out the holy father.

[To Viola.] Come, away!

[To Viola.] Come, let's go!

Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.

Go where, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay.

Husband?

Husband?

Ay, husband. Can he that deny?

Yes, husband. Can he deny that?

Her husband, sirrah?

Her husband, boy?

No, my lord, not I.

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.

Sadly, it's the lowness of your fear that makes you choke off what is rightfully yours. Don't be afraid, Cesario; claim your good fortune. Be what you know you are, and then you are as great as the man you're afraid of.

O, welcome, father! Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence Here to unfold—though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before ’tis ripe—what thou dost know Hath newly passed between this youth and me.

Oh, welcome, father! Father, I order you, by the respect owed to your office, to reveal here — though until recently we meant to keep in the dark what circumstances now uncover before its time — what you know has just taken place between this young man and me.

A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthen’d by interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Sealed in my function, by my testimony; Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave, I have travelled but two hours.

A contract of an everlasting bond of love, confirmed by the joining of your hands together, witnessed by the holy pressing of your lips, strengthened by the exchange of your rings; and the whole ceremony of this agreement was sealed by my priestly office and my testimony. Since then, by my watch, I have travelled only two hours towards my grave.

O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

Oh, you lying young fox! What will you be when time has sown grey hairs on your hide? Or won't your cunning grow so fast that your own tripping up will be your downfall? Goodbye, and take her; but point your feet where you and I may never meet from now on.

My lord, I do protest—

My lord, I swear—

O, do not swear. Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear.

Oh, don't swear. Keep a little faith, even though you have too much fear.

For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently to Sir Toby.

For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one at once to Sir Toby.

What’s the matter?

What's the matter?

’Has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home.

He's split my head open, and he's given Sir Toby a bloody head too. For the love of God, help us! I'd give forty pounds to be at home.

Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

The Count’s gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate.

The Count's gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incarnate.

My gentleman, Cesario?

My gentleman, Cesario?

’Od’s lifelings, here he is!—You broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby.

God's little life, here he is!—You broke my head for nothing; and as for what I did, Sir Toby put me up to it.

Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me without cause, But I bespake you fair and hurt you not.

Why are you talking to me? I never hurt you. You drew your sword on me for no reason, but I spoke to you politely and didn't hurt you.

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.

If a bloody head is a hurt, then you have hurt me. I suppose you think nothing of a bloody head. Here comes Sir Toby limping, and you'll hear more: but if he hadn't been drinking, he'd have tickled you in a very different way than he did.

How now, gentleman? How is’t with you?

Well now, sir? How are you doing?

That’s all one; ’has hurt me, and there’s th’ end on’t. Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot?

It makes no difference; he's hurt me, and that's the end of it. Fool, did you see Dick Surgeon, fool?

O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i’ th’ morning.

Oh, he's been drunk for an hour now, Sir Toby; his eyes were glazed over by eight this morning.

Then he’s a rogue, and a passy measures pavin. I hate a drunken rogue.

Then he's a scoundrel, and a slow dance tune. I hate a drunken scoundrel.

Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them?

Take him away. Who has done this damage to them?

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

I'll help you, Sir Toby, since we'll have our wounds dressed together.

Will you help? An ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull?

You'll help? You ass-head, and fool, and rascal, you thin-faced rascal, you dupe?

Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to.

Get him to bed, and have his wound seen to.

I am sorry, madam, 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, and by that I do perceive it hath offended you. Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago.

I'm sorry, madam, that I've hurt your relative; but even if it had been my own brother, I couldn't have done less, for my own sense and safety. You are giving me a strange look, and from that I can see it has offended you. Forgive me, sweet one, for the sake of the vows we made each other such a short time ago.

One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons! A natural perspective, that is, and is not!

One face, one voice, one set of clothes, and two people! An optical illusion made by nature, which is and is not real!

Antonio, O my dear Antonio! How have the hours rack’d and tortur’d me Since I have lost thee.

Antonio, oh my dear Antonio! How the hours have stretched and tortured me since I lost you.

Sebastian are you?

Are you Sebastian?

Fear’st thou that, Antonio?

Do you doubt that, Antonio?

How have you made division of yourself? An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

How have you divided yourself in two? An apple cut in half isn't more alike than these two creatures. Which one is Sebastian?

Most wonderful!

Amazing!

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 devoured. Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman? What name? What parentage?

Am I standing over there? I never had a brother, and I have no godlike power in my nature to be here and everywhere at once. I had a sister, whom the blind waves and surges swallowed up. Out of kindness, tell me: what relation are you to me? What country are you from? 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.

I'm from Messaline. Sebastian was my father's name; my brother was a Sebastian too. He was dressed just like that when he went to his watery grave. If spirits can take on both shape and clothing, you've come to frighten 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.’

I am indeed a spirit, but one still coarsely clothed in the body I shared in from the womb. If you were a woman — since everything else fits — I would let my tears fall on your cheek and say, "Three times welcome, drowned Viola."

My father had a mole upon his brow.

My father had a mole on his forehead.

And so had mine.

So did mine.

And died that day when Viola from her birth Had numbered thirteen years.

And he died on the day when Viola had counted thirteen years since her birth.

O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years.

Oh, that memory is vivid in my soul! He did indeed finish his life on earth the day that made my sister thirteen years old.

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 preserv’d to serve this noble count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord.

If nothing stops us both being happy except these men's clothes I've taken over, don't embrace me until every detail of place, time and circumstance fits together and proves that I am Viola. To confirm it, I'll take you to a captain in this town, where my woman's clothes are stored; with his kind help I was saved so that I could serve this noble count. Everything that has happened to me since has been between this lady and this lord.

[To Olivia.] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook. But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived: You are betroth’d both to a maid and man.

[To Olivia.] So that's how it is, lady, that you've been mistaken. But nature followed her own natural leaning in it. You meant to be engaged to a young woman; and in that, on my life, you're not cheated: you're engaged to someone who is both a virgin and a 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. [To Viola.] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

Don't be shocked; his blood is truly noble. If this is so, as the mirror still seems to show truly, I'll have a share in this most fortunate shipwreck. [To Viola.] Boy, you've told me a thousand times that you would never love a woman as much as you loved me.

And all those sayings will I over-swear, And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from night.

And I'll swear all those things over again, and keep all those oaths as truly in my soul as that circling sphere keeps the fire that divides day from night.

Give me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.

Give me your hand, and let me see you in your woman's clothes.

The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maid’s garments. He, upon some action, Is now in durance, at Malvolio’s suit, A gentleman and follower of my lady’s.

The captain who first brought me ashore has my woman's clothes. He's now in prison over some legal charge, at the suit of Malvolio, a gentleman and servant of my lady's.

He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither. And yet, alas, now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract.

He shall set him free. Bring Malvolio here. And yet, alas, now I remember — they say the poor gentleman is badly out of his mind.

A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banished his. How does he, sirrah?

A distracting madness of my own drove all thought of his clean out of my memory. How is he, fellow?

Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave’s end as well as a man in his case may do. Has here writ a letter to you. I should have given it you today morning, but as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.

Truly, madam, he's keeping Belzebub at arm's length as well as any man in his condition can. He's written a letter to you here. I should have given it to you this morning, but since a madman's letters aren't gospel, it doesn't much matter when they're delivered.

Open ’t, and read it.

Open it, and read it.

Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman. By the Lord, madam,—

Expect to be well instructed, then, when the fool speaks for the madman. "By the Lord, madam—"

How now, art thou mad?

What's this, are you mad?

No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.

No, madam, I'm only reading madness aloud. If your ladyship wants it done as it should be, you must allow me the right voice.

Prithee, read i’ thy right wits.

Please, read it in your own sane voice.

So I do, madonna. But to read his right wits is to read thus; therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.

So I am, madonna. But to read out his sanity is to read it like this; so pay attention, my princess, and listen.

[To Fabian.] Read it you, sirrah.

[To Fabian.] You read it, fellow.

[Reads.] 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 have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-used Malvolio.

[He reads.] By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know about it. Though you have shut me up in darkness and given your drunken cousin authority over me, I still have the use of my senses as fully as your ladyship does. I have your own letter, which led me to put on the appearance I did; with it I have no doubt I can prove myself right and put you to great shame. Think of me as you like. I set aside my duty to you a little, and speak out of the injury done to me. The madly treated Malvolio.

Did he write this?

Did he write this?

Ay, madam.

Yes, madam.

This savours not much of distraction.

This doesn't smell much of madness.

See him delivered, Fabian, bring him hither.

See him released, Fabian, and bring him here.

My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister, as a wife, One day shall crown th’ alliance on’t, so please you, Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

My lord, if it pleases you, once these things have been thought over further, and you're willing to think of me as a sister as much as a wife, one day shall crown the alliance, if you please, here at my house and at my own expense.

Madam, I am most apt t’ embrace your offer. [To Viola.] 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.

Madam, I am very ready to accept your offer. [To Viola.] Your master releases you; and for the service you did him, so much against the nature of your sex, so far beneath your soft and delicate upbringing, and since you've called me master for so long, here is my hand: from this time on you shall be your master's mistress.

A sister? You are she.

A sister? You are she.

Is this the madman?

Is this the madman?

Ay, my lord, this same. How now, Malvolio?

Yes, my lord, this is the man. How are you, Malvolio?

Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong.

Madam, you have wronged me, wronged me outrageously.

Have I, Malvolio? No.

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 played on? Tell me why?

Lady, you have. Please read that letter through. You can't deny now that this is your handwriting; write differently from it, if you can, in either the letters or the wording, or say that it isn't your seal, not something you composed. You can't say any of this. Well, admit it then, and tell me, by whatever decency of honour you have, why you gave me such plain signs of your favour, told me to come to you smiling and with crossed garters, to put on yellow stockings, and to frown at Sir Toby and the lesser servants; and when I had done all this in obedient hope, why did you let me be shut up, kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, and made into the most obvious fool and dupe that any trick ever played upon? 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. And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me thou wast mad; then cam’st in smiling, And in such forms which here were presuppos’d Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content. This practice hath most shrewdly pass’d upon thee. But when we know the grounds and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause.

Oh, Malvolio, this is not my writing, though I admit it looks very like my hand. But beyond any doubt it's Maria's handwriting. And now that I think about it, it was she who first told me you were mad; then you came in smiling, and behaving in just the ways that were laid out for you in that letter. Please, calm yourself. This trick has been played on you very cleverly. But when we know who was behind it and why, you shall be both the accuser and the judge in your own case.

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, Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceiv’d against him. Maria writ The letter, 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 passed.

Good madam, listen to me, and let no quarrel, and no brawl to come, spoil the happiness of this present hour, which has amazed me. Hoping it won't, I confess quite openly that Toby and I set this trick up against Malvolio here, because of some stubborn and rude behaviour of his that we resented. Maria wrote the letter, at Sir Toby's great insistence, and in return for it he has married her. How it was carried through, with mischief meant in fun, may draw laughter rather than revenge, if the wrongs done on both sides are weighed fairly.

Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!

Oh, poor fool, how they have made a fool of you!

Why, ‘some are born great, 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.

Why, "some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them." I was one of the players, sir, in this little show — one Sir Topas, sir — but that doesn't matter. "By the Lord, fool, I am not mad." But do you remember? "Madam, why do you laugh at such a dull rascal? If you don't smile, he's got nothing to say." And so the spinning top of time brings round its revenges.

I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you.

I'll get my revenge on the whole pack of you.

He hath been most notoriously abus’d.

He has been outrageously mistreated.

Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace: He hath not told us of the captain yet. When that is known, and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls.—Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence.—Cesario, come: For so you shall be while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino’s mistress, and his fancy’s queen.

Go after him, and persuade him to make peace. He hasn't told us about the captain yet. When that's cleared up, and a happy time brings us together, our dear souls shall be solemnly joined. In the meantime, sweet sister, we will not leave this place. Cesario, come — for you shall be called that while you are a man; but when you are seen in other clothes, Orsino's mistress, and the queen of his heart.

When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day.

When I was a little tiny boy, with hey, ho, the wind and the rain, a silly thing was only a trifle, for the rain rains 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.

But when I grew to be a man, with hey, ho, the wind and the rain, men shut their gates against rogues and thieves, for the rain rains every day.

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.

But when I came, sadly, to take a wife, with hey, ho, the wind and the rain, blustering never got me anywhere, for the rain rains every day.

But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to my bed, with hey, ho, the wind and the rain, drinkers still had drunken heads, for the rain rains 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.

A long time ago the world began, with hey, ho, the wind and the rain, but that doesn't matter, our play is done, and we'll try to please you every day.