Speeches (Lines) for Malvolio in "Twelfth Night; or, What You Will"

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

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

Olivia. How say you to that, Malvolio?

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

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

Malvolio. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with
you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to
understand so much, and therefore comes to speak
with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to
have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore
comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him,
lady? he's fortified against any denial.

Olivia. Tell him he shall not speak with me.

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

Olivia. What kind o' man is he?

Malvolio. Why, of mankind.

Olivia. What manner of man?

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

Olivia. Of what personage and years is he?

Malvolio. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for
a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a
cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him
in standing water, between boy and man. He is very
well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one
would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

Olivia. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.

Malvolio. Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

Olivia. 'What is your parentage?'
'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast:
soft, soft!
Unless the master were the man. How now!
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
Methinks I feel this youth's perfections
With an invisible and subtle stealth
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What ho, Malvolio!

Malvolio. Here, madam, at your service.

Olivia. Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio.

Malvolio. Madam, I will.

Antonio. 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.
But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

Malvolio. Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia?

Viola. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since
arrived but hither.

Malvolio. She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have
saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself.
She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord
into a desperate assurance she will none of him:
and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to
come again in his affairs, unless it be to report
your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.

Viola. She took the ring of me: I'll none of it.

Malvolio. 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.

Maria. For the love o' God, peace!

Malvolio. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye
no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like
tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an
alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your
coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse
of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor
time in you?

Sir Toby Belch. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

Malvolio. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me
tell you, that, though she harbours you as her
kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If
you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you
are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please
you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid
you farewell.

Feste. 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.'

Malvolio. Is't even so?

Feste. Sir Toby, there you lie.

Malvolio. This is much credit to you.

Sir Toby Belch. Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with
crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!

Malvolio. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any
thing more than contempt, you would not give means
for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.

Maria. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's
coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the
sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half
hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I
know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of
him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there,
[Throws down a letter]
for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.

Malvolio. '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 respect than any one else that follows her.
What should I think on't?

Sir Toby Belch. Peace, I say.

Malvolio. To be Count Malvolio!

Sir Toby Belch. Peace, peace!

Malvolio. There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy
married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

Fabian. O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how
imagination blows him.

Malvolio. Having been three months married to her, sitting in
my state,--

Sir Toby Belch. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!

Malvolio. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet
gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left
Olivia sleeping,--

Fabian. O, peace, peace!

Malvolio. And then to have the humour of state; and after a
demure travel of regard, telling them I know my
place as I would they should do theirs, to for my
kinsman Toby,--

Fabian. O peace, peace, peace! now, now.

Malvolio. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make
out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind
up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby
approaches; courtesies there to me,--

Fabian. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.

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

Sir Toby Belch. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?

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

Sir Toby Belch. What, what?

Malvolio. 'You must amend your drunkenness.'

Fabian. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.

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

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. That's me, I warrant you.

Malvolio. 'One Sir Andrew,'--

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.

Malvolio. What employment have we here?

Sir Toby Belch. O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading
aloud to him!

Malvolio. By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her
very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her
great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that?

Malvolio. [Reads] 'To the unknown beloved, this, and my good
wishes:'--her very phrases! By your leave, wax.
Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she
uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?

Fabian. This wins him, liver and all.

Malvolio. [Reads]
Jove knows I love: But who?
Lips, do not move;
No man must know.
'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers
altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be
thee, Malvolio?

Sir Toby Belch. Marry, hang thee, brock!

Malvolio. [Reads]
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.

Sir Toby Belch. Excellent wench, say I.

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

Sir Toby Belch. And with what wing the staniel cheques at it!

Malvolio. 'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command
me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is
evident to any formal capacity; there is no
obstruction in this: and the end,--what should
that alphabetical position portend? If I could make
that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A,
I,--

Fabian. Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as
rank as a fox.

Malvolio. M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name.

Fabian. Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is
excellent at faults.

Malvolio. M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel;
that suffers under probation A should follow but O does.

Sir Toby Belch. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O!

Malvolio. And then I comes behind.

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

Malvolio. M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and
yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for
every one of these letters are in my name. Soft!
here follows prose.
[Reads]
'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I
am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some
are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open
their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them;
and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be,
cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. 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 commended thy
yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever
cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art
made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see
thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and
not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell.
She that would alter services with thee,
THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.'
Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is
open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors,
I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross
acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man.
I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade
me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady
loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of
late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered;
and in this she manifests herself to my love, and
with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits
of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will
be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and
cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting
on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
postscript.
[Reads]
'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling;
thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my
presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.'
Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do
everything that thou wilt have me.

Olivia. Go call him hither.
[Exit MARIA]
I am as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.
[Re-enter MARIA, with MALVOLIO]
How now, Malvolio!

Malvolio. Sweet lady, ho, ho.

Olivia. Smilest thou?
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

Malvolio. Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does make some
obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but
what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is
with me as the very true sonnet is, 'Please one, and
please all.'

Olivia. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?

Malvolio. 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.

Olivia. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

Malvolio. To bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee.

Maria. How do you, Malvolio?

Malvolio. At your request! yes; nightingales answer daws.

Maria. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

Malvolio. 'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas well writ.

Olivia. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?

Malvolio. 'Some are born great,'--

Olivia. Ha!

Malvolio. 'Some achieve greatness,'--

Olivia. What sayest thou?

Malvolio. 'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'

Olivia. Heaven restore thee!

Malvolio. 'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,'--

Olivia. Thy yellow stockings!

Malvolio. 'And wished to see thee cross-gartered.'

Olivia. Cross-gartered!

Malvolio. 'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so;'--

Olivia. Am I made?

Malvolio. 'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'

Olivia. I'll come to him.
[Exit Servant]
Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's
my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special
care of him: I would not have him miscarry for the
half of my dowry.

Malvolio. O, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than
Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with
the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may
appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that
in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says she;
'be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants;
let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put
thyself into the trick of singularity;' and
consequently sets down the manner how; as, a sad
face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the
habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have
limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me
thankful! And when she went away now, 'Let this
fellow be looked to:' fellow! not Malvolio, nor
after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing
adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no
scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous
or unsafe circumstance--What can be said? Nothing
that can be can come between me and the full
prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the
doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

Fabian. Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir?
how is't with you, man?

Malvolio. Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private: go
off.

Maria. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not
I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a
care of him.

Malvolio. Ah, ha! does she so?

Sir Toby Belch. Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently
with him: let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how
is't with you? What, man! defy the devil:
consider, he's an enemy to mankind.

Malvolio. Do you know what you say?

Maria. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I
live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.

Malvolio. How now, mistress!

Sir Toby Belch. Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck?

Malvolio. Sir!

Maria. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray.

Malvolio. My prayers, minx!

Maria. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness.

Malvolio. Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow
things: I am not of your element: you shall know
more hereafter.

Sir Toby Belch. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave.

Malvolio. [Within] Who calls there?

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

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

Sir Toby Belch. Well said, Master Parson.

Malvolio. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir
Topas, do not think I am mad: they have laid me
here in hideous darkness.

Feste. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most
modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones
that will use the devil himself with courtesy:
sayest thou that house is dark?

Malvolio. As hell, Sir Topas.

Feste. Why it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes,
and the clearstores toward the south north are as
lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of
obstruction?

Malvolio. I am not mad, Sir Topas: I say to you, this house is dark.

Feste. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness
but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than
the Egyptians in their fog.

Malvolio. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though
ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there
was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you
are: make the trial of it in any constant question.

Feste. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?

Malvolio. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.

Feste. What thinkest thou of his opinion?

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

Feste. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness:
thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will
allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock, lest
thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.

Malvolio. Sir Topas, Sir Topas!

Feste. [Singing]
'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,
Tell me how thy lady does.'

Malvolio. Fool!

Feste. 'My lady is unkind, perdy.'

Malvolio. Fool!

Feste. 'Alas, why is she so?'

Malvolio. Fool, I say!

Feste. 'She loves another'--Who calls, ha?

Malvolio. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my
hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper:
as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to
thee for't.

Feste. Master Malvolio?

Malvolio. Ay, good fool.

Feste. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?

Malvolio. Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused: I
am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

Feste. But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no
better in your wits than a fool.

Malvolio. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness,
send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to
face me out of my wits.

Feste. Advise you what you say; the minister is here.
Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore!
endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain
bibble babble.

Malvolio. Sir Topas!

Feste. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I,
sir? not I, sir. God be wi' you, good Sir Topas.
Merry, amen. I will, sir, I will.

Malvolio. Fool, fool, fool, I say!

Feste. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you sir? I am
shent for speaking to you.

Malvolio. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: I
tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.

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

Malvolio. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper and
light; and convey what I will set down to my lady:
it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing
of letter did.

Feste. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you
not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit?

Malvolio. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true.

Feste. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his
brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink.

Malvolio. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I
prithee, be gone.

Olivia. Ay, my lord, this same.
How now, Malvolio!

Malvolio. Madam, you have done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.

Olivia. Have I, Malvolio? no.

Malvolio. 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, nor your invention:
You can say none of this: well, grant it then
And tell me, in the modesty of honour,
Why you have given me such clear lights of favour,
Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow stockings and to frown
Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people;
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck and gull
That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why.

Feste. 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? an you smile not, he's gagged:'
and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

Malvolio. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.