All language subtitles for Twelfth Night 1996 720p WEB-DL AAC2.0 H.264-alfaHD

[No audible sound]

Man: ¶ I'll tell thee a tale ¶

¶ now list' to me ¶

¶ with a hey, ho ¶

¶ the wind and the rain ¶

¶ but merry or sad ¶

¶ which shall it be? ¶

¶ for the rain
it raineth every day ¶

man: Once upon twelfth night,

or what you will,

aboard a ship bound home
to messaline,

the festive company,

dressed for masquerade
and singing songs
each other to amuse,

delight above the rest
in two young twins...

Twins: ¶ o mistress mine,
where are you roaming? ¶

¶ o, stay and hear ¶

¶ your true love's ¶

¶ coming ¶

¶ that can sing
both high and... ¶

[singing with low voice]
¶ low ¶

¶ that can sing
both high and... ¶

[singing with low voice]
¶ low ¶

[audience laughs]

[Laughter]

[Thunderous crash]

Man: The storm has forced
their vessel from its course,

and now they strike upon
submerged rocks.

Man: Uncertain what to leave
and what to save,

brother and sister, orphaned
since their father's death,

have but themselves alone
in all the world.

[Thunder]

[Men shouting]

Brother: No!

No!

No!

Man: Deep currents
and the sinking bark above them

divide what naught
had ever kept apart.

[Sister shouting]

The poor survivors
reach an alien shore.

For messaline...

With this country...

Is at war.

What country, friends, is this?

This is illyria, lady.

And what should
I do in illyria?

My brother...

He is in elysium.

[Sobbing]

Perchance he is not drowned.

My lady viola,

it is perchance
that you yourself
were saved.

[Sobbing] My poor brother!

Viola: Sebastian!

Sebastian!

[Horse neighing]

The war between
the merchants here
and ours

too oft has given us
bloody argument.

We must not be discovered
in this place.

[Humming]

[Humming]

Who governs here?

The Duke...

Orsino.

Orsino.

I have heard
my father name him.

He was a bachelor then.

And so is now,

or was so very late.

'Tis said no woman
may approach his court,
but a month ago

'twas fresh in murmur
that he did seek the love
of fair Olivia.

[Rustling]

[Woman crying]

Viola: What's she?

That same Olivia,

the daughter of a count
who died some
twelvemonth since.

[Olivia crying]

Her brother has
lately also died.

For whose dear love,
they say, she hath abjured

the sight and company of men.

[Crying]

O, that I served that lady.

That were hard to compass,

because she will admit
no kind of suit,

no, not the Duke's.

I prithee, be my aid
for such disguise

as haply shall become
the form of my intent.

I'll serve this Duke.

I shall present me
as a boy 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.

Ohh.

I thank thee.

[Viola gasping]

[Gasping]

[Yawn]

[Piano playing soft melody]

If music be the food of love,
play on.

Give me...

Excess of it;

that, surfeiting, the appetite
may sicken, and so...

Die.

[Piano playing]

That strain again.

[Stops playing]

It had a dying fall.

O, it came o'er my ear
like the sweet sound

that breathes upon
a bank of violets;

stealing and giving odor.

[Resumes playing]

Enough.

[Continues playing]

No more!

'Tis not so sweet now
as it was before.

How now? What news
from Olivia?

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..."

"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...

My lord orsino...

[Swords clashing]

Ahem.

Viola: Here comes
the count!

Who saw cesario, hmm?

Viola: On your attendance,
my lord, here.

Cesario...

Duke: Thou know'st
no less but all:

I have unclasped
to thee the book
even of my secret soul.

Therefore, good youth,
address thy gait unto her,

stand at her doors,
and tell them,

there thy fixed foot
shall grow till
thou have audience.

Sure, my noble lord,

if she be so
abandoned to her sorrow
as it is spake,

she never will admit me.

Be clamorous and leap
all civil bounds.

Say I do speak
with her, my lord,
what then?

O, then unfold
the passion of my love;

it shall become thee well
to act my woes;

she will attend it
better in thy youth.

I think not so, my lord.

Dear lad, believe it.

For they shall yet
belie thy happy years,
that say thou art a man.

Ahem.

Diana's lip is not
more smooth and rubious;

thy small pipe is
as a woman's organ,
shrill and sound...

and all is semblative
a woman's part.

Uhh!

[Moaning]

I know thy constellation
is right apt
for this affair.

Duke: Some three
or four attend him.

[Snoring]

By my troth, sir Toby,
you must come in earlier
o' nights.

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.

What's that to th' purpose?

He has 3,000 ducats a year.

He speaks three or four
languages word for word
without book...

he's a fool.

He's a great quarreler:
And but that he hath
the gift of a coward,

'tis thought
he would quickly have
the gift of a grave.

Man: Sir Toby belch!

Sir Andrew agueface!

How now, sir Toby belch?

Sweet sir Andrew!

[Laughter]

Bless you, fair shrew.

And you too, sir.

Accost, sir Andrew, accost.

What's that?

My niece's chambermaid.

O, good mistress accost,
I desire better acquaintance.

My name is Mary, sir.

Good mistress Mary accost.

[Women giggling]

Uh, "accost" is...
is front her,

board her, woo her,

assail her.

Fare you well, gentlemen.

Is that the
meaning of "accost"?

Mmm. Know it.

When did I see thee
so put down?

What a plague means my
niece, to take the death
of her brother thus?

I am sure care's
an enemy to life.

I'll ride home
tomorrow, sir Toby.

Pourquoi, my dear knight?

What is pourquoi?

Do or not do?

I would I had bestowed
that time in the tongues,

that I have in
fencing and dancing.

O, had I but followed the arts!

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'th' count...

she'll not match
above her degree;

I've heard her swear't.

Tut, there's life in't, man!

I'll stay a month longer...

I am a fellow o'th'
strangest mind I'th' world:

I delight in masques
and revels sometimes
altogether.

Art thou good at these
kickshawses, knight?

Faith, I can cut a caper,

and I think I have
the back-trick

simply as strong
as any man in illyria.

[Begins playing]

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?

[Plays faster]

Is it a world
to hide virtues in?

Excellent!
Ha ha ha!

[Stops playing]

My lady will hang thee
for thy absence.

Let her hang me:
I fear no colours.

I can tell thee where
that saying was born.

Where, good mistress Mary?

In the war.

Well, God give them
wisdom that have it;

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

You are resolute, then?

I'm resolved on two points...

that if one break,
the other will hold;

or if both break,
your britches fall.

Well, go thy ways.

That if sir Toby
would leave drinking,

thou wert as witty
a piece of Eve's flesh
as any in illyria.

Peace, you rogue.

No more o'that.

[Organ playing]

Man: God bless
thee, lady!

Olivia:
Take the fool away.

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

Go to:
I'll no more of you:

Besides, you grow dishonest.

Bid the dishonest man
mend himself;

if he mend, he is
no longer dishonest;

if he cannot, let
the botcher mend him:

Any thing 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's 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!

Good Madonna,
give me leave
to prove you a fool.

Can you do it?

Dexteriously, good Madonna.

Make your proof.

Must catechize you for it...

Madonna.

Good my mouse of virtue,

answer me.

Olivia:
Well, sir, for want
of other idleness.

Good Madonna,
why mourn'st thou?

Good fool, for
my brother's death.

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, gentleman.

What think you, 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.

How say you to that, malvolio?

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

Look you now,
he's out of his guard already;

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

Olivia:
O, you are sick of
self-love, malvolio,

and taste with
a distempered appetite.

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.

Madam, there is at the gate

a young gentleman
who much desires
to speak with you.

[Gasp]

From the count orsino, is it?

Maria: I know not,
madam.

Who of my people
hold him in delay?

Sir Toby, madam.

He speaks nothing but madman.

Go you, malvolio:

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

What you will, to dismiss it.

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...

[Door opens]

Whose skull jove
cram with brains!

For here comes one of thy kin,

has a most weak pia mater.

By mine honour, half drunk.

[Crash]

Ahem. What is he
at the gate, cousin?

A gentleman.

What gentleman?

'Tis a gentleman there...

[Belch]

A plague o'these
pickled herring.

How now, sot!

Good sir Toby!

Cousin... Cousin,

how have you come
so early by this lethargy?

Lechery!

I defy lechery!

There's one at the gate.

Ay, marry, what is he?

Let him be the devil,
an he will, I care not;

give me faith, say I.

Well, it's all one.

[Door closes]

[Laughter]

What's a drunken man like?

Like a drowned man,
a fool, and a mad man:

The first
draught above heat
makes him a fool,

the second mads him,

and the third drowns him.

Go thou and seek the coroner.

He's drowned.

But, madam,
yon young fellow swears
he will speak with you.

I told him you were sick.

I told him you were asleep.

Tell him he shall not
speak with me.

Has been told so;

and he says he'll
stand at your door
like a sheriff's post,

but he'll speak with you.

What kind o' man is he?

Of mankind.

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.

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

Let him approach.

Call in my gentlewoman.

Gentlewoman.

My lady calls.

We'll once more hear
orsino's embassy.

Give me my veil.

[Knock on door]

Uh...

[Whispering] The, uh...

Honorable lady of the house...

Which is she?

Speak to me,
I shall answer for her:

Your will?

Ahem.

Most radiant, exquisite,
and unmatched 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.

I have taken great pains
to learn it.

Whence came you, sir?

That question's out of my part.

Good gentle one,
give me modest assurance

if you be the lady
of the house.

Are you a comedian?

No, my profound heart:

Are you the lady of the house?

I am.

I will on
with my speech
in your praise.

Come to what is important in't:

I forgive you the praise.

Alas, I took great
pains to study it.

'Tis poetical.

It is the more like
to be feigned.

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.

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

No, good swabber;

I am to hull here
a little longer...

Some mollification
for your giant,
sweet lady.

Speak your office.

It alone concerns your ear.

I bring no overture of war;

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 others, profanation.

Give us this place alone:

We will hear this divinity.

Now, sir, what is your text?

[Door closes]

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?

In the first of his heart.

O, I have read it;
It's heresy.

Have you no more to say?

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.

Look you, sir.

Is't not well-done?

Excellently done...

If God did all.

'Tis in grain, sir,
'twill endure wind
and weather.

'Tis beauty truly blent.

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 labeled:
As, item,

two lips indifferent red;

item, two brown eyes
with lids to them;

item, one neck,
one chin,
and so forth.

I see what you are,

you are too proud;

but, though
you were the devil,
you are fair...

My lord and master loves you;

such love could be
but recompensed,

though you were crowned
the nonpareil of beauty!

How does he love me?

With adorations...

With fertile 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,

learned and Valiant:

But yet I cannot love him.

If I did love you
in my master's flame,

with such a suff'ring,

such a deadly life,
in your denial I 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;

holla your name
to the reverberate hills,

and make the babbling
gossip of the air
cry out...

Olivia!

Shh!

[Birds squawking]

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...

Fare thee 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.

Farewell, fair cruelty.

[Whistling]

Olivia, thinking:
What is your parentage?

Above my fortunes,
yet my state is well:

I am a gentleman.

I'll be sworn thou art!

Nay! 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!

Here, madam, at your service.

Uh, 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 youth will come
this way tomorrow,

I'll, uh, give him
reasons for't.

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...

[Thoughts]
Fate, show thy force...

ourselves we do not owe...

what is decreed, must be;
And be this so!

[Bell ringing]

Were you not even now
with the countess Olivia?

Even now, sir.

On a moderate pace
I have since arrived
but hither.

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.

Well, receive it so.

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,

there it lies in your eye;

if not, be it his
that finds it.

I left no ring with her.

Viola:
What means this lady?

Fortune forbid my outside
have not charmed her.

She made good view of me...

Indeed so much, methought
her eyes had lost her tongue,

for she did speak in starts...
Distractedly.

She loves me.

Sure.

I am the man.

Will you stay no longer?

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 that
Sebastian of messaline,

whom I know you have heard of.

He left behind him
myself and my sister
viola,

both born in an hour:

Would we had so ended!

But you, sir, altered that,

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

Alas, the day!

A lady, sir...

Though it was said
she much resembled me,

was yet of many
accounted beautiful.

Good Antonio,
forgive me
your trouble.

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

Desire it not.

Fare thee well at once.

I am bound for
the count orsino's
court...

farewell!

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.

O, when mine eyes
did see Olivia first...

Methought she purged
the air of pestilence.

That instant was
I turned into a heart

and my desires like
fell and cruel hands

have since pursue me.

[Grunting]

Ha ha ha!

Approach, sir Andrew.

Sir Andrew?

[Sir Andrew shouting]

[Gunshot]

[Glass breaking]

Help!

Maria!

[Tap]

Maria!

Marian, I say!

A stoup of wine!

Did you never see
the picture of "we three"?

Aah!

Aah!

Ha ha ha!

Welcome, ass.

¶ Three merry men be we ¶

¶ three merry men be we ¶

¶ three merry men be we ¶

shh! Sir Toby!

Shh!

Tillyvally! "Lady"!

Beshrew me, the knight
is in admirable fooling.

¶ There dwelt a man
in Babylon, lady, lady ¶

[indistinct shouting]

Malvolio's nose
is no whipstock:

And the myrmidons
are no bottle-ale houses.

Ha ha ha!
Excellent!

Now a song!

Here comes fit
this sixpence for you.
Let's have a song.

[Piano playing]

That old and antic song
we heard last night:

Methought it did
relieve my passion much.

He is not here,
so please your lordship,
who should sing it?

Who was it?

Uh, feste, my lord,

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

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.

¶ O mistress mine,
where are you roaming? ¶

¶ o, stay and hear ¶

¶ your true love's coming ¶

¶ that... ¶

[piano playing]

How dost thou like this tune?

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

Thou dost speak masterly.

¶ Every wise man's son
doth know ¶

excellent good, I'faith.

Good, good.

¶ What is love ¶

¶ 'tis not hereafter ¶

¶ present mirth
hath present laughter ¶

my life upon't,
young though thou art,

thine eye hath stayed
upon some favour
that it loves:

Hath it not, boy?

A little, by your favour.

What kind of woman is't?

Of your complexion.

She is not worth thee then.

What years, I'faith?

O, about your years.

Too old, by heaven.

[Sighs]

Let still the woman take
an elder than herself;

so wears she to him,

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,
hmm?

Women are...

As roses, whose fair flower
being once displayed...

Doth fall that very hour.

So they are.

Alas, that they are so.

To die, even when they
to perfection grow!

¶ 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 ¶

¶ youth's a stuff
will not endure ¶

[music stops]

Huh.

A mellifluous voice,
as I am true knight.

Contagious breath.

Very sweet and contagious,
I'faith.

But shall we...

Shall we make
the welkin dance
indeed?

Shall we do that?

No, and I do not!

¶ There dwelt a man
in Babylon ¶

¶ there dwelt a man
in Babylon ¶

¶ there dwelt a man
in Babylon ¶

¶ Babylon ¶

¶ there dwelt a man
in Babylon ¶

¶ there dwelt a man
in Babylon ¶

¶ there dwelt a man
in Babylon ¶

¶ o' the twelfth day
of December ¶

¶ my true love said to me ¶

[humming]

[Music stops]

My masters, are you mad?

Have you no wit, manners,
nor honesty,

but to gabble like tinkers
at this time of night?

Do ye make an ale-house
of my lady's house?

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

We did keep time, sir,
in our catches.

Sneck up.

[Burps]

Sir Toby...

I must be round with you.

My mistress 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, she is
very willing to bid
you farewell.

¶ Farewell, dear heart ¶

¶ since I must needs be gone ¶

nay, good sir Toby.

¶ His eyes do show
his days are almost done ¶

¶ 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, no, no, no, no, no ¶

¶ you dare not ¶

[plays dissonant chord]

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?

Feste:
Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger
shall be hot I'th' mouth too.

Th'art I'th' 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
for this uncivil rule.

She shall know of it.

By this hand.

Go shake your ears.

Sir Toby: Enough of these
overwhelming rules...

Bolts and shackles!

Now be patient!

Yeah!

For monsieur malvolio...

If I do not make him
a common recreation,

do not think 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.

Marry, sir...

Sometimes he is
a kind of puritan.

O, if I thought that,
I'd beat him like a dog.

Maria: Devil a puritan
that he is,

or any thing constantly
but a time-pleaser,

so crammed, as he thinks,
with excellencies,

that it is his ground of faith

that all that look on him
love him;

and on that vice in him
will my revenge find
notable cause to work.

What wilt thou do?

I will drop in his way

some obscure epistle of love,

wherein he will find
himself most feelingly
personated.

I can write very 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.

For this night...

To bed.

Ahem.

Dream on the event.

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.

Come, I'll go burn some sack,

'tis too late to go to bed now.

Uh!

Disguise, I see thou art
a wickedness,

wherein the pregnant enemy
doth much.

How will this fadge?

As I am man...

My state is desperate
for my master's love.

As I am woman...

Now alas the day!

What thriftless sighs
will poor Olivia breathe?

Come hither, boy.

Ahem.

Come, boy. Come.

How will she love when
the rich, golden shaft

has killed the flock
of all affections else
that live in her...

And when brain and heart
are all supplied
with one self king?

Sir, shall I to this lady?

Ay, that's the theme.

To her in haste.

Tell her my love
will give no place,
bide no denay...

Malvolio is coming
down this walk!

Come thy ways, signior fabian.

Wouldst thou not be glad
to have the niggardly
rascally sheep-biter

come by some notable shame?

You know, he brought me out
o'favour with my lady

about a bear-baiting here.

Get ye all three
into the box-tree.

My lady.

My lady!

Countess.

Ahem.

Here comes the trout
that must be caught
with tickling.

'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.

Besides, she uses me
with a more exalted...

'Slight, I could
so beat the rogue!

To be count malvolio!

Ah, rogue!

Ah.

Having been three months
married to her,

sitting in my state...

O, for my 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 left Olivia sleeping.

And after a demure
travel of regard,

telling them I know my place

as I would
they should do theirs,

to ask for my kinsman...

Toby.

Bolts and shackles!

I frown the while,
and perchance wind up my watch,

or play with my...

Some rich jewel.

Toby approaches;

curtsies there to me.

I extend my hand to him thus;
Saying, "cousin Toby,

you must amend
your drunkenness."

Out, scab!

What employment have we here?

By my life...

This is my lady's hand.

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

By your leave, wax.

Soft!... And the impressure
her lucrece,

with which she uses to seal.

'Tis my lady.

To whom should this be?

"Jove knows I love:
But who?

Lips, do not move!
No man must know."

No man must know...

[Breathing heavily]

If this should be thee,
malvolio!

"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."

"M..."

Excellent wench, say I.

Let me see here.

"M, o, a, I."

"I may command where I adore."

Why, she may command me;

I serve her, she is my lady.

And the end: What should that
alphabetical position portend?

"M, o, a, I."

Moai.

Moai?

"M..."

"M"... malvolio... "m."

Why, that begins my name... "m."

"A" should follow,
but "o" does.

"M, o, a." 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...

"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 them.

"Be opposite with a kinsman,
surly with servants;

"let thy tongue tang
arguments of state;

"put thyself into the trick
of singularity.

"She thus advises thee
that sighs for thee.

Remember who..."

"Remember who commended
thy yellow stockings,

"and wished to see thee
ever cross-gartered:

"I say, remember.

"Go to, thou art made,
if thou desir'st 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 champian
discovers not more:

I will be proud,
I will baffle sir Toby,

I will wash off
gross acquaintance,

I will be point-device
the very man.

I do not now fool myself,
to let imagination jade me;

for every reason
excites me to this,

that my lady loves me.

Jove, and my stars be praised!

Look. Here is yet a postscript.

"Thou canst not choose
but know who I am.

"If thou entertain'st my love,
let it appear in thy smiling,

"thy smiles become thee well.

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

Jove, I thank thee.

I will smile.

I will do everything
that thou wilt have me!

Jove, I thank thee!

Malvolio:
Jove, I am happy!

Daylight, champian!

I will not give
my part of this sport

for a pension of thousands!

I could
marry this wench
for this device.

So could I too.

Wilt thou set thy foot
o' my neck?

Or o' mine either?

Nay, but say true,
does it work upon him?

Like aqua-vitae
with a midwife.

Then mark his first approach
before my lady:

He will come to her
in yellow stockings,

and 'tis a colour she abhors.

Ha ha ha!

Uh!

Save thee, friend:
Dost thou live
by thy music?

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.

Hold.

There's expenses for thee.

Now...

Jove, in his next
commodity of hair,

send thee a beard!

By my troth I'll tell thee,

I am almost sick for one...

But I would not have it
grow on my chin.

Is thy lady within?

I would play
lord pandarus
of phrygia, sir,

to bring a cressida
to this troilus.

I understand you, sir,

'tis well begged.

The matter is not great, sir;

begging but a beggar.

Cressida was a beggar.

My lady is within, sir.

I will conster to her
whence you come.

God save you, gentleman.

And you, sir.

Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

Et vous aussi;
Votre serviteur.

I hope, sir, you are...
and I am yours.

My niece is desirous
you should enter,

if your trade be to her.

Your niece, sir,
is the list of my voyage.

Viola:
But we have prevented.

Most excellent
accomplished lady,

the heavens rain odours on you.

Rain odours?

That youth's a rare courtier.

My master 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's your name?

Cesario is your
servant's name,
fair princess.

Y'are servant to
the count orsino, youth.

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

Well, for him,
I think not on him:

Not for his thoughts.

Would they were blanks,
rather than filled with me!

I come to whet
your thoughts
on his behalf.

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...

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?

Let me hear you speak.

I pity you.

That's a degree to love.

No, not a grise;

for 'tis a vulgar proof,
that very oft we pity
enemies.

Why then...

Methinks 'tis time
to smile again.

[Bell tolls]

The clock upbraids me
with the waste of time.

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

Oh.

And yet, when wit
and youth is come
to harvest,

your wife
is like to reap
a proper man.

There lies your way, due west.

Then, uh,
westward-ho!

Oh.

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

Stay!

I prithee, tell me
what thou think'st of me.

That you do think you
are not what you are.

Well, if I think so,
I think the same of you.

Well, 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!

O, grace my good disposition

to tend your ladyship.

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.

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.

I could not stay behind you.

My kind Antonio.

But not all love to see you.

You, sir,
are a stranger
in these parts.

I can no other answer
make but thanks,
and thanks;

and ever oft good turns
are shuffled off

with such uncurrent pay.

I am not weary.
'Tis long till night.

I pray you, let us
satisfy our eyes

with the memorials
and things of fame that
do renown this city.

I do not without danger
walk these streets.

Once in
a sea fight 'gainst
orsino's galleys

I did some service,
of such note indeed

that were I ta'en here,
it would scarce
be answered.

Belike you slew great
number of his people.

For which,
if I be lapsed
in this place,

I shall pay dear.

Do not then walk too open.

You shall find me
at the elephant.

Why I your purse?

Haply your eye shall light on

some toy you have
desire to purchase;

and your store, I think,

is not for idle markets, sir.

At th'elephant.

I do remember.

Ever thou shall love
remember me.

[Thunder]

For, such as I am
all true lovers are...

Unstaid and skittish
in all motions else,

save in the constant image

of the creature
that is beloved.

[Humming]

[Thunder]

O fellow, come,
play that piece of song
we heard last night.

Mark it, cesario,
it is old and plain:

The spinners and
the knitters in the sun
used to chant it.

Prithee, sing.

[Playing guitar]

¶ Come away ¶

¶ come away death ¶

¶ and in sad cypress¶

¶ let me be laid ¶

¶ fly away breath ¶

¶ fly away, fly away breath ¶

¶ I am slain ¶

¶ by a fair cruel maid ¶

¶ not a friend ¶

¶ not a friend greet ¶

¶ my poor corpse ¶

¶ where my bones
shall be thrown ¶

¶ a thousand ¶

¶ sighs to save ¶

¶ lay me o where ¶

¶ sad true lover ¶

¶never find my grave ¶

¶ to weep there ¶

[stops music]

There's for thy pains.

No pains, sir.
I take pleasure
in singing.

I'll pay thy pleasure, then.

Truly, sir,
and pleasure
will be paid...

One time or another.

Now, the melancholy God
protect you,

for your mind is a very opal.

Farewell.

Duke:
Once more, cesario,

get thee to yon same
sovereign cruelty.

But if she cannot
love you, sir?

I cannot so be 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 bear 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...

but mine is all
as hungry as the sea,
and can digest as much.

[Thunder]

Make no compare between
that 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.

And what's her history?

A blank, my lord.

She never told her love...

But let concealment
like a worm I'th' 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?

Oh.

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...

I'll do my best
to woo your lady.

Viola, thinking:
Yet, a barful strife!

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

Hey!

No, faith, I'll not
stay a jot longer.

Thy reason, dear venom,
give thy reason.

Marry, I saw your niece
do more favours to
the count's serving-man

than ever
she bestowed on me;
I saw't I'th'garden.

Sir Toby: Did she see thee
the while, old boy?
Tell me that.

As plain as I see you now.

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

'Slight! Will you
make an ass o' me?

She did show favour
to the youth in your sight,

only to exasperate you,
to awake your dormouse valour:

You should then have
accosted her, and banged
the youth into dumbness:

You are now sailed
into the north of
my lady's opinion,

unless you do redeem it

by some laudable
attempt of either
valour or policy.

It must be with valour,
for policy I hate:

I had as lief be a puritan,
as a politician.

Sir Toby: Why then.
Challenge the count's youth
to fight with him,

hurt him in eleven places...

my niece shall take note of it,

and there is no
love-broker in the world

can more prevail with
woman than report of valour.

Sir Andrew:
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.

About it.

Sir Toby: Taunt him
with the license of ink.

Where will I find you?

Go, go.

We'll call thee
at thy cubiculum.

This was a dear manakin
to you, sir Toby.

I have been dear to him, lad...

some two thousand
strong, or so.

Yon gull malvolio
is turned heathen...

He is in yellow stockings!

And cross-gartered?

[Knock on door]

How now, malvolio?

Sweet...

Lady.

Olivia: Smil'st 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,
"please one and please all."

Olivia: 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.

Wilt thou go to bed, malvolio?

To bed!

Ay, sweet-heart...

And I'll come to thee.

God comfort thee!

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

How do you, malvolio?

Why appear you with
this ridiculous boldness
before my lady?

"Be not afraid of greatness":

'Twas well writ.

What mean'st thou
by that, malvolio?

"Some are born great,

some achieve
greatness..."

What say'st thou?

"And some have greatness
thrust upon them."

Oh, God!
Stop it!

"Remember, who commended
thy yellow stockings

and wished to see
thee cross-gartered."

Cross-gartered?

"Go to, thou art made,

if thou
desir'st to be so..."
- Am I made?

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

Why, this is
very midsummer madness.

Servant: Madam,
the young gentleman

of the count orsino's
is returned.

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.

Do you come near me now?

No worse man than sir Toby
to look to me!

[Door slams]

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

I have limed her!

But it is God's doing,
and God make me thankful!

And when she went away now,

"let this fellow be looked to":

Not malvolio, not after
my degree, but a "fellow."

Why, every thing
adheres together.

What can be said?

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

In the name of sanctity?

If all the devils
of hell possess him,
I'll speak to him.

How is't with you, sir?

Malvolio: Go off,
I discard you.

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

Ah, ha!

Does she so!

What, man!
Defy the devil.

Do you know what you say?

LA you!
An you speak ill
of the devil,

how he takes it at heart!

Carry his water
to th'wise woman.

It shall be done
to-morrow morning.

My lady would not
lose him for more
than I'll say.

How now, mistress!

O lord!

Malvolio: Let me
enjoy my private.

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.

Malvolio: You are
idle shallow things...

I am not of your element...

you shall know more hereafter.

[Laughs loudly]

Shh!

Is't possible?

If this were played
upon a stage now,

I would condemn it
as an improbable
fiction.

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

Why, we shall
make him mad indeed.

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

we may carry it thus,
for our pleasure
and his penance.

Sir Andrew:
"...Scurvy fellow.

In thy throat."

More matter for a may morning!

Sir Andrew: Here's
the challenge, read it:

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

Is't so saucy?

Do but read.

Give me.

Sir Toby: "Youth,
whatsoever thou art, thou
art but a scurvy fellow."

Good, and Valiant.

"Thou com'st to the lady
Olivia, and in my sight
she uses thee kindly:

But that is not
the matter I challenge
thee for."

Very brief, and to
exceeding good sense.

"I will waylay thee
going home, where if it
be thy chance to kill me,"...

good.

"Thou kill'st me like
a rogue and a villain."

Still you keep
to the the windy side
of the law: Good.

Sir Toby: "Fare thee
well, and God have mercy
upon one of our souls!

"He may have mercy upon mine,

but my hope is better,
and so look to thyself."

"Thy friend..."

"As thou usest him, and thy
sworn enemy, Andrew aguecheek."

If this letter move
him not, his legs
cannot: I'll give't him.

He is now
in some commerce
with my lady,

but will by and by depart.

Go, sir Andrew;

scout me
for him at the corner
of the orchard

like a bum-baily:

So soon as ever thou
seest him, draw thy sword.

As thou draw'st,
swear horrible.

Away!

Nay, let me alone for swearing.

I'll deliver his challenge
by word of mouth.

Olivia:
And I beseech you
come again tomorrow.

What shall you
ask of me,
that I'll deny?

Nothing 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.

Sebastian: Thou art
a foolish fellow.

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

Go to.

Go to!

Well, come again to-morrow:
Fare thee well.

A fiend, like thee,
might bear my soul to hell.

Viola: Ah!

Let me be clear of thee.

Well held out.

Gentleman, God save thee.

And you, sir.

That defense thou hast,
betake thee to't:

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

but thy intercepter,
bloody as the hunter,

attends thee
at the orchard end.

You mistake, sir.

I am sure no man hath

any quarrel to me.

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.

I beseech you, sir, what is he?

He is a devil in private brawl:

Souls and bodies hath he
divorced... Three.

I will return again
into the house

and desire some conduct
of the lady.

I am no fighter.

I beseech you to know
of the knight what my offence
to him is;

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

Signior fabian,
stand you by the gentleman
till I return.

I pray you, sir, do you
know of this matter?

I know the knight
is incensed
against you,

even to a mortal arbitrement.

Why, man, he's the very devil,

I have not seen
such a firago...

I had a pass with him,

and he gives me the stuck in
with such a mortal motion
that it is inevitable.

They say
he has been the fencer
to the shah of persia.

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

Ay, but he will not
now be pacified:

Fabian can scarce
hold him yonder.

Plague on't.

Let him let the matter slip,

and I'll give him my horse.

I'll make the motion:

Stand here,
make a good show on't.

[Under breath]
I'll ride your horse
as well as I ride you.

I will
make your peace
with him if I can.

I'll be much bound
to you for it.

I have persuaded him
the youth's a devil.

He is as horribly
conceited of him.

Mm-hmm.

There's no remedy, sir,
he will fight with you
for's oath sake.

Give ground, 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.

Come on.

To't!

Ya!

Uh!

[Yells]

[Shrieks]

Ah!

Antonio: Put up your sword.

Antonio: If this young gentleman
have done offence...

I take the fault on me.

Sir Toby: You, sir!

And 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.

[Gunshots]

Hold; Here come
the officers.

I'll be with you anon.

[Gunshots]

Pray, sir, put your sword up.

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

He will bear you easily,
and reins well.

Officer: This is the man.

Second officer:
Antonio, I arrest thee in
the name of orsino.

You do mistake me, sir.

First officer:
No, sir, no jot;
I know your favour well:

Though now you wear
no sea-cap on your head...

Take him away,
he knows I know him well.

I must obey.

This comes with seeking you.

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

Come, away, sir.

I must entreat of you
some of that money.

What money, sir?

For the fair kindness
you have showed me here,
I'll lend you something.

Will you deny me now?

Second officer:
Come, sir,
I pray you, go.

This youth that you see here
I snatched one half out
of the jaws of death.

First officer:
What's that to us?

Go tell my lord orsino
we will hold him here.

Lead me on.

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

leaving his friend here in
necessity and denying him.

A coward,
a most devout coward,
religious in it.

'Slid,
I'll after him again
and beat him.

Do, cuff him soundly,
but never draw thy sword.

An I do not.

Malvolio: Thy wronged me!

Thy have put me into darkness!

The world shall know it!

[Bangs on door]

[Whistling]

Feste: No, I do
not know you,

nor I am not sent
to you by my lady,

nor your name is not
master cesario,

nor this is not
my nose neither: Nothing
that is so, is so.

I prithee, foolish Greek,
vent thy folly somewhere else,

thou know'st not me.

Vent my folly!

Tell me what shall
I vent to my lady:

Shall I vent to her
that thou art coming?

There's money for thee.

If you tarry any longer,
I shall give you
worse payment.

By my troth, thou hast
an open hand.

Now, sir, have
I met you again?
There's for you.

Sebastian: Ooh!

There's for thee.

And there.

Ooh!

And...

Sebastian:
Are all the people mad?

Sir Toby: Hold, sir,
or I'll throw your dagger
o'er the house.

Feste: I would not
be in some of your coats
for two pence.

I'll have
an action of battery
against him:

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

Let go thy hand!

I will not let you go,
my young soldier.

I will be free from thee.

Ah!

Ah!

What would'st thou now?

What, what?

[Snaps fingers]

Nay, then I must have
an ounce or two of this
malapert blood from you.

Hold, Toby!

On thy life,
I charge thee, hold!

Madam.

Will it be ever thus?

Ungracious wretch.

Fit for the mountains
and the barbarous caves,

where manners
ne'er were preached!

Out of my sight!

Be not offended,
dear cesario...

Rudesby, be gone!

I prithee, gentle friend,
go with me to the house,

and hear thou there
how many fruitless pranks

this ruffian hath botched up,

that thou thereby
may smile at this...

Thou shalt not choose
but go; Do not deny.

[To himself]
What relish is in this?
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!

Nay, come, I prithee:

Would thou'dst be ruled by me!

Madam...

I will.

O, say so, and so be!

Viola, thinking:
Prove true, imagination.

Prove true.

[Malvolio yelling
and banging on door]

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

Jove bless thee, master parson!

Bonos dies, sir Toby:

For as the old hermit
of Prague, who 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, master topas.

Feste: What, ho!

Peace in this prison!

Malvolio: Who calls there?

Master topas the curate
who comes to visit
malvolio the lunatic.

Malvolio, breathing heavily:
Master topas, good
master topas, go to my lady.

Out, hyperbolical fiend!

Talkest thou nothing
but of ladies?

The knave counterfeits well.

Malvolio:
Good master topas,
do not think I am mad;

they have laid me here
in hideous darkness.

Say'st thou this house is dark?

As hell, master topas.

Why, it hath bay windows
transparent as barricadoes,

and the clerestories
to the South-north are
as lustrous as ebony.

I am not mad.

This is the air,
that is the glorious sun.

This pearl she gave me,

I do feel't and see't.

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 reason,

that persuades me
to any other trust
but that I am mad.

[Crying]
I am no more mad
than you are.

[Malvolio bangs on door
and cries]

Fare thee well.

Master topas!

I would we were
well rid of this knavery.

For I am now so far
in offence with my niece,

that I cannot
pursue it with any safety.

Come by and by to my chamber.

Feste: ¶ jolly Robin ¶

¶ tell me how my lady does ¶

feste.

Malvolio: Feste!

Feste!

Who calls, ha?

Feste!

Feste, good feste,
help me to a candle,
pen, ink and paper.

Master malvolio!
Alas, sir, how fell you
besides your five wits?

There was never a man
so notoriously abused.

They have here propertied me;

keep me in darkness,
send ministers to me.

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...

Good feste, some ink,
paper and light:

And convey what I will
set down to my lady.

Sebastian: 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,

as I perceive she does:

There's something in't
that is... Deceivable.

Olivia: 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,
plight me the full assurance
of your faith,

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

He shall conceal it,
whiles you are willing
it shall come to note.

What do you say?

I'll follow
this good man
and go with you,

and having
sworn truth,
ever will be true.

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.

Ah!

I will fetch thee light
and paper and ink.

I'll requite it
in the highest degree.

Feste: ¶ 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 ¶

¶ pare thy nails dad ¶

¶ adieu Goodman devil ¶

[horses neighing]

Fabian: Now,
as thou lov'st me,
show me his letter.

Belong you to
the lady Olivia,
friends?

Feste: Ay, sir, we are
some of her trappings.

Duke: If you will let
your lady know I'm here,

and bring her along with you,

it may awake my bounty further.

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

Viola: This is
the man, sir,
that did rescue me.

That face of his
I do remember well.

Orsino, this is that Antonio
that took the Phoenix

when your young cousin Titus
lost his leg.

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

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?

Orsino, noble sir,

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.

His life I gave him
and did thereto add
my love without retention.

For his sake,
faced the danger
of this adverse town.

How can this be?

When came he to this town?

Yesterday;

and for three months before,
both day and night
did we keep company.

Duke: Here comes
the countess!

Now heaven walks on earth...

But for thee, fellow...
fellow, thy words are madness,

three months this youth
hath tended on me.

Duke: Bring him away.

What would my lord,
but that he may not have?

Cesario, you do not
keep promise with me.

Madam?

Gracious Olivia,...

what do you 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.

Still so cruel?

Still so constant, lord.

What, to perverseness?

You uncivil lady,

my soul the faithful'st
off'rings hath
breathed out,

that e'er devotion tendered!

What shall I do?

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

Why should I not
in savage jealousy,

like to th'Egyptian thief,
on point of death,

kill what I love?

But, madam, hear me this:

Since you
to non-regardance
cast my faith,

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.

And I, most jocund,
apt and willingly,
to do you rest,

a thousand deaths would die.

Come, boy, with me.
My thoughts are ripe
in mischief.

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.

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.

Duke: Come, away!

Olivia: Whither, my lord?
Cesario, husband, stay.

Husband?

Ay, husband.

Can he that deny?

Her husband, sirrah?

No, my lord,

not I.

Fear not, cesario,
take thy fortunes up.

O, welcome, father!

Father, I charge thee,
by thy reverence,

here to unfold... though
lately we intended
to keep in darkness,

what thou dost know hath
newly passed between
this youth and me.

A contract of
eternal bond of love,

confirmed by mutual joinder
of your hands,

strength'ned by
interchangement
of your rings,

sealed in my function,
by my testimony.

O, thou dissembling cub!

What wilt thou be
when time hath sowed
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.

Sir Andrew: For the love
of God, a surgeon!

Send one presently to sir Toby.

For the love of God, your help!

What's the matter?

H'as broke my head across
and has given sir Toby
a bloody coxcomb too.

I had rather
than forty pound
I were at home.

Who has done this, sir Andrew?

The count's gentleman,
one cesario:

He's the very
devil incardinate.

My gentleman, cesario?

'Od's lifelings, here he is!

You broke my head for nothing,
and that I did, I was
set on to do't by sir Toby.

Why do you speak to me?
I never hurt you:

You drew your sword
on me without cause.

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

Here comes sir Toby halting.

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

Duke: How now, gentleman!
How is't with you?

That's all one...
he's hurt me, and there's
th'end on't...

Sot, didst see
dick surgeon, sot?

O he's drunk,
sir Toby,
an hour agone.

I hate a drunken rogue.

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

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

Will you help me?

An ass-head,

and a coxcomb,

and a knave!

A thin-faced knave,
a gull!

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

Sebastian:
Pardon me, sweet one,

even for the vows we made
each other but so late ago.

Antonio!

My dear Antonio!

How have the hours
racked and tortured me,
since I have lost thee!

Sebastian are you?

Fear'st thou that, Antonio?

How have you made division
of yourself?

Antonio: Which is Sebastian?

Most wonderful!

Do I stand there?

I never had a brother.

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?

Of messaline.

Sebastian was my father.

Such a Sebastian
was my brother too:

So went he suited
to his watery tomb.

Sebastian:
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.

And so had mine.

And died that day when viola
from her birth...

that day
that made my sister
thirteen years.

If nothing lets
to make us happy both,

but this my masculine
usurped 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

by whose gentle help
I was preserved...

To serve this noble count.

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 betrothed
both to a maid and man.

If this be so,
as yet the glass
seems true,

I shall have share
in this most happy
wrack.

Boy...

Thou hast said
to me a thousand times

thou never shouldst
love woman like to me.

And all those sayings
will I over-swear.

Give me thy hand.

Your master quits you; And for
your services done him,

so much against
the mettle of your sex.

Here is my hand.

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

[Sighs]

Let me see thee
in thy woman's weeds.

Oh.

A sister!
You are she.

From malvolio?

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.

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-gartered to you,

and, acting this
in an obedient hope,

why you have suffered me
to be imprisoned,

kept in a dark house,
visited by the priest,

and made the most
notorious geck and gull

that e're invention played 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.

And now I do bethink me,
it was she first told me
thou wast mad.

This practice hath
most shrewdly passed
upon thee.

Good madam, hear me speak.

Most freely I confess,
Maria writ the letter at
sir Toby's great importance,

in recompense whereof
he hath married her.

Alas, poor fool!
How have they baffled thee!

Feste:
Why, "some are born great,

"some achieve greatness,

and some have greatness
thrown upon them."

I was one, sir,
in this interlude,

one master topas.

"By the lord, fool,
I am not mad!"

But do you remember?

"Madam, why laugh you
at such a barren rascal?

An you smile not,
he's gagged."

Thus the whirligig of time...

Brings in his revenges.

I'll be revenged...

On the whole pack of you.

Pursue him,
and entreat him
to a peace.

¶ When that I was
and a little tiny boy ¶

¶ with a hey, ho,
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 a hey, ho,
the wind and the rain ¶

¶ 'gainst knaves and thieves
men shut their gate ¶

¶ for the rain
it raineth every day ¶

he hath been
most notoriously abused.

When that is done,
and golden time
convents,

a solemn combination
shall be made of our dear souls.

¶ But when I came
alas to wive ¶

¶ with a hey, ho,
the wind and the rain ¶

¶ by swaggering
could I never thrive ¶

¶ for the rain
it raineth every day ¶

¶ but when I came
unto my beds ¶

¶ with a hey, ho,
the wind and the rain ¶

¶ with toss-pots
still had drunken heads ¶

¶ for the rain
it raineth every day ¶

¶ a great while ago
the world begun ¶

¶ with a hey, ho,
the wind and the rain ¶

¶ but that's all one,
my tale is done ¶

¶ and I'll strive to please you
every day ¶

¶ and I'll strive
to please you every day ¶

every day.

Ha ha ha!

Every day.