Twelfth Night

I’ve sent for him. He says he’ll come. What kind of food should I serve him? What presents should I give him? It’s easier to buy young people than to beg or borrow them. Oh, I’m talking too loud.—Where’s Malvolio? He’s very serious, which is right for someone in mourning like me. Where is Malvolio?

He’s coming, madam; but he’s acting very strangely. He must be possessed by the devil.

Why, what’s the matter with him? Is he talking nonsense?

No, he just smiles. You should have a guard nearby if he comes in here, because he’s clearly disturbed.

Ask him in here.

I’m as crazy as he is, if sad craziness and happy craziness are equivalent.

What’s going on, Malvolio?

Hello, sweet lady.

You’re smiling? I sent for you about a sad occasion.

Sad, my lady! I could be sad if I wanted to be. These crisscrossing laces do cut off the circulation in my legs a bit, but who cares? As the sonnet says, “If you please one special person, you please everyone who matters.”

Why, what’s going on? What’s the matter with you?

My legs may be yellow, but I don’t feel blue. It was addressed to him, and orders must be obeyed. I think we know whose fancy handwriting that was.

Don’t you think you should go to bed, Malvolio?

To bed! “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll come to you.”

For heaven’s sake, why are you smiling like that and kissing your hand so much?

How are you feeling, Malvolio?

You’re asking me! Noble people don’t answer to peasants!

Why are you acting so brazen toward my lady?

“Don’t be afraid of greatness.” That was well written.

What do you mean by that, Malvolio?

“Some are born great—”

What?

“Some achieve greatness—”

What are you saying?

“And some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Heaven help you!

“Remember who liked your yellow stockings—”

Your yellow stockings?

“And wanted to see you with laces crisscrossed over your legs.”

Crisscrossed?

“Go ahead. A happy new life is there if you want it—”

Am I a new life?

“If you don’t want it, just keep acting like a lowly servant.”

This is completely insane.

Madam, Count Orsino’s young messenger has returned. It was hard to get him to come back, but he’s here now, waiting for you.

I’ll go to him.

Maria, take care of this poor fellow here. Where’s my cousin Toby? Have some of my servants take care of Malvolio. I’d give half my dowry to keep anything bad from happening to him.

Oh ho! Look at me now! No less a person than Sir Toby, Lady Olivia’s own relative, is going to take care of me. This is just what the letter said. She’s sending him to me on purpose, so I can be rude to him just like she said in the letter. “Get rid of your low-class trapping,” she said. “Argue with a relative of mine like a nobleman, and be rude to servants. Talk about politics and affairs of state, and act free and independent.” And then she explains how to do it: I should have a serious face and dignified demeanor, well-modulated speech, acting like a distinguished gentleman and so on. I’ve got her now, but I’ve got God to thank for it! And when she left just now, she said “Take care of this poor fellow here.” Fellow!“ Not ”Malvolio,“ not anything referring to my low station in life, but ”fellow.“ Everything’s going perfectly. Not the tiniest ounce, not the littlest insignificant amount of trouble or bad luck could ruin it—what can I say? Nothing can come between me and the fulfillment of all my hopes. Well, God is responsible for that, not me, and he deserves thanks.

Where is he, for God’s sake? I don’t care if all the devils in hell crammed together to possess him, I still want to speak to him.

Here he is, here he is. How are you, sir?

Go away. I don’t want to see your face. Let me enjoy my privacy. Go away.

(to SIR TOBY BELCH) Ooh, listen to the scary devil speaking from inside him! Didn’t I tell you? Sir Toby, Lady Olivia wants you to take care of him.

Ah-ha! Does she?

(to FABIAN and MARIA) Come on, come on! Calm down, calm down. We need to treat him gently. Let me take care of this.—How are you, Malvolio? How are things? Come on, man, just say no to the devil! Think about it, he’s the enemy of mankind.

Do you even know what you’re talking about?

(to SIR TOBY BELCH) Look at that, he acts insulted if you say bad things about the devil! I hope to God he’s not bewitched!

Get a urine sample and take it to a witch doctor to find out.

Sure thing, we’ll do it tomorrow morning. My lady would never want to lose him.

What are you saying, mistress?

Oh, Lord!

(to MARIA) Please, keep quiet. This is not the way to act. Don’t you see you’re upsetting him? Leave me alone with him.

Gentleness is the only way to go—gently, gently. The devil inside him is rough, but we can’t treat it roughly.

(to the imaginary devil inside MALVOLIO) So how are you, my pretty little bird? How are you doing in there, sweet little chicken?

Sir!

Yes, dear little chick, come along with me.—Shut up, man! You’re serious enough to know not to play games with Satan. Damn that dirty black coalminer of a devil!

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

My prayers, you hussy?

(to SIR TOBY BELCH) No, I’m telling you, he refuses to hear anything about religion.

Go hang yourselves, all of you! You’re all lazy and shallow. I’m not like you. I have a higher future waiting for me. You’ll know more about it later.

Is it possible?

If this were a play, I’d complain it was unrealistic.

He’s really taken this prank to heart. He’s playing the role perfectly.

No, follow him now, before he divulges the prank and ruins everything.

Wow, we’re really going to drive him crazy.

The house will be so much quieter.

Come on, let’s put him in a dark room and tie him up. My niece already thinks he’s insane. We can go on like this, punishing him and having some fun, until we’re tired of it. Then we can take mercy on him and let him out, and talk about how well the joke went. We’ll also worship you for setting up this trick. Let’s do it, let’s do it!

Here’s more insanity for us.

(presenting them a piece of paper) Here’s the challenge, read it. It’s bursting with fighting words.

Is it that aggressive?

Yes, it is, I think. Just read it.

Give it to me. (he reads) ”Young man, whatever you are, you’re a real scum bucket.“

Nice. Very courageous.

(reading) ”Don’t even ask why I call you that, because I won’t give you any explanation.“

That’s a good thing to put in—it keeps you from getting in trouble with the law.

(reading) ”You come to see the lady Olivia, and she’s kind to you. But you’re a complete liar. That’s not why I’m challenging you to a duel.“

Nice and short and full of good sense—or should I say nonsense?

(reading) ”I’ll ambush you on your way home, and if you’re lucky enough to kill me—“

Good.

(reading) ”You’ll be killing me like a common criminal, a mugger.“

You still haven’t said anything incriminating. Good.

(reading) ”Good luck, and may God have mercy on one of our souls. He may have mercy upon mine. But I have a better chance of surviving, so watch out. Signed, your friend, if you treat him right, and your sworn enemy,

Andrew Aguecheek“

If this letter doesn’t make him fight, I don’t know what will. I’ll give it to him.

You might have a great opportunity to give it to him right now. He’s conducting some business with my lady, and sooner or later he’ll leave.

Go, Sir Andrew. Look out for him in the corner of the orchard as if you were a sheriff’s deputy. As soon as you see him, draw your sword, and as you draw it, start swearing horribly. Sometimes a terrible swear word, like a well-shot arrow, makes you look more brave and manly than getting in a fight would. Now go!

Don’t worry about me not swearing enough.

I won’t deliver this letter. The young gentleman’s behavior shows that he’s sensible and has good manners. The fact that he serves as a go-between for his lord and my niece Olivia confirms this. So this letter, which is so incredibly stupid and ignorant, isn’t going to scare him at all. He’ll just think an idiot wrote it. But I’ll deliver Sir Andrew’s challenge by word of mouth, describing Sir Andrew as courageous in battle and convincing the young gentleman that Sir Andrew is furious, impetuous, and a skilled fighter (he’ll believe me because he’s young). This will make them both so afraid that they’ll kill each other just by looking at each other.

Here comes the messenger with your niece. Leave them alone until he sets off home, and then follow him.

Meanwhile, I’ll think of some horrible way to phrase the challenge.

I’ve said too much to someone with a heart of stone. I’ve foolishly jeopardized my honor and reputation. I hate myself for behaving that way, but I just had to, and no criticism could have stopped me.

My lord acts just as crazy with love as you do.

Here, take this piece of jewelry. There’s a picture of me inside. Don’t refuse it. It won’t annoy you like me, because it doesn’t have a voice. And I beg you, please come here again tomorrow. What could you possibly ask of me that I wouldn’t give you, as long as it didn’t damage my honor and self-respect?

Nothing, except your true love for my lord.

How could I honorably give him what I’ve already given you?

I’ll give it back to you.

Just come again tomorrow. Good-bye. A devil like you could lead me to hell.

Hello, sir.

Hello to you.

You’d better think up a way to defend yourself. I don’t know what you’ve done to upset him, but someone has challenged you to a duel. He’s riled up and bloodthirsty, and he’s waiting for you at the back of the orchard. Draw your sword and get on your toes, because your assailant is quick, skillful, and deadly.

There must be some mistake, sir. I’m sure nobody would have any reason to fight with me. I can’t remember anything I’ve ever done to offend anyone.

You’re wrong about that, I assure you. So if you value your life at all, be on your guard. Your opponent has enough youth, strength, skill, and anger to outfight anyone.

But who is this person, sir?

He’s a knight. He was made a knight because of his court connections, but when he’s fighting a civilian he’s a real monster. He’s killed three people, and he’s so furious right now that the only thing that will satisfy him is seeing you die. ”Fight to the death" is his motto.

I’ll go back inside and ask the lady for some kind of escort. I’m not a fighter. I’ve heard of men who pick fights with other people on purpose, just to see how brave they are. This man is probably like that.

No, sir. He’s furious because you insulted him, and he has a right to satisfaction. So go out there and give him what he wants. You can’t go back into the house unless you want to fight with me—and if you’re willing to do that, you might as well just go and fight with him. So go to the orchard, or take out your sword right now. You’re going to have to fight one way or another, there’s no doubt about that, or else you’ll have to stop wearing a sword and claiming to be a gentleman.

This is as rude as it is strange. Please, do me this one favor: find out what I’ve done to offend this knight. It must be something I did accidentally.

I will do so. Mr. Fabian, stay with this gentleman until I come back.

Excuse me, sir, do you know anything about this?

I know the knight is furious with you, so much that he’s willing to fight you to the death, but I don’t know anything else about it.

What kind of man is he?

He’s not much to look at, but he’s very brave in battle. He really is the most skillful, bloodthirsty, and dangerous opponent you can find in Illyria. Do you want to go see him? I’ll try to calm him down for you if I can.

I’d be very grateful to you if you did. I’m much more of a religious type than a fighter, and I don’t care who knows it.

Wow, he’s a real devil. I’ve never seen such a monster. I had a round with him, and his sword thrust is so deadly that you can’t even duck out of the way. And when he strikes back at you, he’ll hit you as sure as you’re standing there. They say he used to fence for the shah of Persia.

That’s it! I won’t mess with him.

Yes, but now there’s no way to calm him down. Fabian can hardly control him over there.

Darn it, if I’d guessed he was so brave and such a good swordsman, I never would have challenged him. I’ll give him my gray horse Capilet if he forgets the whole thing.

I’ll give it a try. Stay right here and try to look good. This may end without anyone getting killed. (to himself) I’ll ride your horse just like I ride you.

(to FABIAN) He’s given me his horse to try to avoid the fight—I’ve persuaded him that the young man is a fighting machine.

He’s just as terrified of Sir Andrew. He’s pale and hyperventilating, as if a bear were chasing him.

(to VIOLA) There’s nothing you can do about it, sir. He insists on fighting with you because he swore he would. But he’s thought over his reason for challenging you to fight, and he realizes it’s so insignificant that it’s not worth thinking about. So draw your sword so he can carry out his vow. He promises not to hurt you.

(to herself) God help me! If anything happens I’m going to have to tell them exactly how unmanly I am.

Back off if he seems really furious.

Come on, Sir Andrew, there’s nothing you can do about it. The gentleman insists on fighting a round with you, for the sake of his honor. The rules of dueling say he has to. But as a gentleman and a soldier he’s promised me he won’t hurt you. Come on, get ready.

I hope to God he keeps his promise!

I swear to you, I don’t want to be doing this.

Put your sword away. If this young gentleman has offended you, I’ll take the blame for it. If you’ve offended him, I’ll fight you.

You, sir? Who are you?

I’m just a good friend of his. In fact, I’d do even more to him than what you’ve heard him promise to do.

If you’re someone who gets into fights, I’ll fight with you.

Oh, Sir Toby, stop! The police are here.

(to ANTONIO) I’ll be back for you soon.

(to ANDREW) Please, sir, put away your sword. Please.

I certainly will, sir. And as for what I promised to you, I’m as good as my word. You can ride him easily, and he responds well when you pull the reins.

This is the man. Do your job.

Antonio, you’re under arrest on the orders of Count Orsino.

You must be mistaking me for someone else, sir.

No, sir, not at all. I recognize your face perfectly, even without a sailor’s cap on your head.—Take him away. He knows I recognize him.

I have to obey. (to VIOLA) This has happened because I came looking for you, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’ll take what’s coming to me. But what’ll you do now that I have to ask you for my purse back? I’m more upset about not being able to help you than I am about what’s going to happen to me. You look so confused. Don’t worry about me.

Come on, sir, let’s go.

(to VIOLA) Really, I must ask you for some of that money.

What money, sir? I feel sorry for you in this situation, and I want to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me here, so I’ll lend you some of my money, though I don’t have much. I’ll give you half of everything I have right now. Take this. It’s half of all my money. (she offers him money)

Are you really going to pretend you don’t know me now? After everything I’ve done for you, you’re refusing to help me? Don’t make me more miserable than I am. I might do something really weak and unmanly, like listing the kind things I’ve done for you.

I don’t know any kind things you’ve done for me, and I don’t recognize your voice or your face. I hate an ungrateful man more than I hate lying, vanity, babbling, drunkenness, or any other vice that we feeble human beings are susceptible to.—

Oh, my God!

Come on, sir, please. Let’s go.

No, I’ve got something to say. I saved this young man’s life when he was half-dead, and nursed him back to health lovingly and tenderly. I devoted myself to him, since he looked noble and good.

Why should we care? Time’s passing. Let’s go!

But oh, what a deceiver he turned out to be! You don’t live up to your good looks, Sebastian. You look good but you’re bad on the inside, where it counts, since the only real flaws in nature are in a person’s mind and soul. Only really cruel people can be called deformed. Virtue is beauty, but someone beautiful and wicked is like an empty box decorated by the devil.

The man’s going crazy. Take him away. Come on, sir. Come on.

Take me.

He was so angry I feel he must really believe what he was saying. I don’t believe it. Yet I wish I could. Oh, please be true, please let it be that this man has mistaken me for you, my dear brother!

Come here, Sir Andrew. You too, Fabian. We’ve got some words of wisdom to mull over.

He called me Sebastian. I know my brother’s still alive in a sense, since I see him whenever I look in the mirror. My brother looked like me, and he dressed the same way that I’m dressed now—in the same colors, with the same accessories. Oh, if it turns out to be true that he survived, then that storm was kind, and the ocean was full of love!

He’s a very dishonest, puny boy, and more cowardly than a rabbit. He abandoned his friend here in an emergency, and even pretended he didn’t know him. That shows he’s dishonest. As for his cowardliness, ask Fabian.

He’s a coward, a total coward. He’s religiously devoted to his cowardice.

By God, I’ll go after him again and beat him up.

Please do. Beat him up well, but don’t draw your sword.

I swear I will—

Come on, let’s go see what happens.

I’ll bet anything you like that nothing will happen, once again.