SCENE I. OLIVIA's garden. Twelfth Night  Shakespeare homepage  |  Twelfth Night  | Act 3, Scene 1 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  SCENE I. OLIVIA's garden. 

 Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabour  VIOLA  Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by 

 thy tabour? 

 Clown  No, sir, I live by the church. 

 VIOLA  Art thou a churchman? 

 Clown  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. 

 VIOLA  So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a 

 beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy 

 tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church. 

 Clown  You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is 

 but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the 

 wrong side may be turned outward! 

 VIOLA  Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with 

 words may quickly make them wanton. 

 Clown  I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir. 

 VIOLA  Why, man? 

 Clown  Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that 

 word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words 

 are very rascals since bonds disgraced them. 

 VIOLA  Thy reason, man? 

 Clown  Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and 

 words are grown so false, I am loath to prove 

 reason with them. 

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

 Clown  Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my 

 conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be 

 to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. 

 VIOLA  Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool? 

 Clown  No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she 

 will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and 

 fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to 

 herrings; the husband's the bigger: I am indeed not 

 her fool, but her corrupter of words. 

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

 Clown  Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, 

 it shines every where. 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. 

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

 Hold, there's expenses for thee. 

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

 VIOLA  By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for 

 one; 



 Aside  though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy 

 lady within? 

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

 VIOLA  Yes, being kept together and put to use. 

 Clown  I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring 

 a Cressida to this Troilus. 

 VIOLA  I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged. 

 Clown  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. 



 Exit  VIOLA  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, 

 And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather 

 That comes before his eye. 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. 



 Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW  SIR TOBY BELCH  Save you, gentleman. 

 VIOLA  And you, sir. 

 SIR ANDREW  Dieu vous garde, monsieur. 

 VIOLA  Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. 

 SIR ANDREW  I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. 

 SIR TOBY BELCH  Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous 

 you should enter, if your trade be to her. 

 VIOLA  I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the 

 list of my voyage. 

 SIR TOBY BELCH  Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion. 

 VIOLA  My legs do better understand me, sir, than I 

 understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. 

 SIR TOBY BELCH  I mean, to go, sir, to enter. 

 VIOLA  I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we 

 are prevented. 



 Enter OLIVIA and MARIA  Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain 

 odours on you! 

 SIR ANDREW  That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well. 

 VIOLA  My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant 

 and vouchsafed ear. 

 SIR ANDREW  'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em 

 all three all ready. 

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



 Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA  Give me your hand, sir. 

 VIOLA  My duty, madam, and most humble service. 

 OLIVIA  What is your name? 

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

 OLIVIA  My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world 

 Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment: 

 You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth. 

 VIOLA  And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: 

 Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. 

 OLIVIA  For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, 

 Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! 

 VIOLA  Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts 

 On his behalf. 

 OLIVIA  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. 

 VIOLA  Dear lady,-- 

 OLIVIA  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, 

 Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak. 

 VIOLA  I pity you. 

 OLIVIA  That's a degree to love. 

 VIOLA  No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof, 

 That very oft we pity enemies. 

 OLIVIA  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! 



 Clock strikes  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. 

 VIOLA  Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition 

 Attend your ladyship! 

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

 OLIVIA  Stay: 

 I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me. 

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

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

 VIOLA  Then think you right: I am not what I am. 

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

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

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

 OLIVIA  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 every thing, 

 I love thee so, that, maugre all 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 better. 

 VIOLA  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. 

 OLIVIA  Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move 

 That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. 



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