Chapter: SCENE III.


                  _A Hall in_ DUKE ORSINO'S _Palace_.

                       _Enter_ DUKE, _and_ VIOLA.

    _Duke._ Come hither, boy:--If ever thou shalt love,
  In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:
  For, such as I am, all true lovers are.--
  My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
  Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves;
  Hath it not, boy?

    _Vio._ A little, by your favour.

    _Duke._ What kind of woman is't?

    _Vio._ Of your complexion.

    _Duke._ She is not worth thee then. What years, i' faith?

    _Vio._ About your years, my lord.

    _Duke._ Too old, by heaven.--Once more, Cesario,
  Get thee to yon same sovereign cruelty:
  Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
  Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
  The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her,
  Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
  But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
  That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.

    _Vio._ But, if she cannot love you, sir?

    _Duke._ I cannot be so answered.

    _Vio._ 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?

    _Duke._ There is no woman's sides,
  Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
  As love doth give my heart:--make no compare
  Between that love a woman can bear me,
  And that I owe Olivia.

    _Vio._ Ay, but I know,--

    _Duke._ What dost thou know?

    _Vio._ 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.

    _Duke._ And what's her history?

    _Vio._ A blank, my lord: She never told her love,
  But let concealment, like a worm i' the 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?
  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.

    _Duke._ But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

    _Vio._ I am all the daughters of my father's house,
  And all the brothers too.--
  Sir, shall I to this lady?

    _Duke._ Ay, that's the theme.
  To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
  My love can give no place, bide no denay.                   [_Exeunt._

 At Olivia's house, it is late and Sir Toby and Sir Andrew have been drinking, or "revelling," as they call it. They are noisily celebrating -- reciting fragments of songs, Latin sayings, and old country proverbs. They play at logic: Sir Andrew says in all inebriated seriousness that "to be up late is to be up late." Sir Toby absolutely disagrees: "a false conclusion," he pronounces, and a flaw in reasoning, a vexation which he dislikes as much as he does an empty beer mug. Then he launches into an involved, implausible, and ridiculous diatribe involving the hours of the day and of the night and the four elements, and ends by praising Sir Andrew for being such a superb scholar because Sir Andrew agrees with Sir Toby's final conclusion -- that "life . . . consists of eating and drinking," which reminds Sir Toby that what they both need is another drink. Thus he bellows loudly for "Marian" to fetch them "a stoup of wine." Feste, the jester, has not gone to bed and is delighted to come in and discover a party going on. They all joke uproariously in broad comedy about their all being asses, and then they attempt to approximate the acerbic flair of high comedy, but their bits and pieces of joking become so disjointed that it is impossible to know exactly what they are laughing about, nor is it terribly important. The point is, they are having manly, goodhearted drunken fun and, therefore, they indulge quite naturally in some loud singing. Very naturally, one of the first songs is a love song. It is sung by Feste and begins "O mistress mine" and concerns men wooing their true loves. The second verse praises the experience of love: love is an act, to be acted upon; "tis not hereafter." The future, according to the song, is unsure, therefore, lovers should kiss for "youth's a stuff will not endure." The philosophy of the song is agreeable to all, as is Feste's "mellifluous voice," according to the tipsy Sir Andrew. Sir Toby criticizes Feste's breath, pondering momentarily on the possibility of one's being able to hear with one's nose. Then in the next breath, he suggests that they celebrate so thoroughly that they will "rouse the night-owl" and make the sky itself dance. Sir Andrew thinks that this is a splendid idea: "I am dog at a catch," he cries out, meaning that he is clever at singing. Yet no sooner do they begin, than their tongues tumble over the words "knaves" and "knights," two completely different kinds of men, and they attempt to begin all over again when Maria comes in. She warns them that their "caterwauling," their wailing like three sex-starved tomcats, is going to get them thrown out of the place. If Olivia is awakened, she will have her steward, Malvolio, toss them all out. Neither Sir Toby nor Sir Andrew pays any attention whatsoever to her; they are too far gone in their cups, and they call Olivia a "Cataian" and call Malvolio a "Peg-a-Ramsey." This latter slur is very insulting, referring to an over-the-hill, henpecked impotent man who woefully longs for the long-gone days when men sported yellow hose and wooed the village maids. Sir Toby begins a new song, with the words "On the twelfth day of December . . ." and suddenly they are all startled to see a figure in the doorway. It is Malvolio. He is haughty and as imperious as Maria warned them that he would be. He tells them that Olivia has said that either they must quiet down or else they must leave the house. Sir Toby and Feste mock Malvolio's edicts with satiric farewells, and Malvolio becomes furious. He is scandalized to hear such insults in his lady Olivia's house. He turns on Maria and attempts to shame her for allowing such misbehavior. He shall report her part in all this "uncivil rule." He warns them that they should make no mistake about what he plans to do. Their insubordination will be reported immediately! Resentful of Malvolio's lordly posings, the drunken merrymakers loudly applaud Maria's proposed plan to outwit the sharp-tongued, all-important Malvolio. She will forge a letter in Olivia's handwriting that will contain soulful, sighing admirations for "the color of beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expression of his eye, forehead, and complexion" -- in short, in a very brief time, Malvolio will mistakenly believe that Olivia is in love with him. "A sport royal," Maria predicts. With that, she tells them to hide and eavesdrop on Malvolio when "he shall find the letter." She then bids them goodnight; the three men are intoxicated at the thought of what will ensue. Malvolio will be made a fool of; he has needed such an experience for a long time, and this exciting prospect, of course, calls for a drink.

