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Posts Tagged ‘Olivia’

Twelfth Night – Act Three Scene Two

Sir Andrew is upset because Olivia is showing more attention to Cesario than him. He is leaving for home

Sir Toby and Fabian persuade him to stay

FABIAN

She did show favour to the youth in your sight only
to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to
put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver.
You should then have accosted her; and with some
excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should
have banged the youth into dumbness. This was
looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the
double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash
off, and you are now sailed into the north of my
lady’s opinion; where you will hang like an icicle
on a Dutchman’s beard, unless you do redeem it by
some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.

Sir Toby suggests writing a challenge to Cesario to prove his valour

SIR TOBY BELCH

Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief;
it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun
of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink:
if thou thou’st him some thrice, it shall not be
amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of
paper, although the sheet were big enough for the
bed of Ware in England, set ’em down: go, about it.
Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou
write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it.

When Sir Andrew leaves to write this letter we see the real Sir Toby. He means to continue this jest to it’s conclusion, as he will with Malvolio

SIR TOBY BELCH

. For Andrew, if he were
opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as
will clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of
the anatomy.

Maria enters in haste as Malvolio is coming dressed in yellow stockings. They go to laugh at him

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Twelfth Night – Act Three Scene One

Viola meets Feste playing the tabour

VIOLA

Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by
thy tabour?

Clown

No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA

Art thou a churchman?

Clown

No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for
I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by
the church.

Viola recognises him from Olivia’s house

VIOLA

Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s fool?

Clown

No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she
will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and
fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to
herrings; the husband’s the bigger:

Feste goes to find Olivia and Viola muses on the fool

VIOLA

This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time,
And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practise
As full of labour as a wise man’s art
For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
But wise men, folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit.

When Olivia and Viola are left alone Olivia unburdens her heart to Cesario

OLIVIA

What is your name?

VIOLA

Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess.

OLIVIA

My servant, sir! ‘Twas never merry world
Since lowly feigning was call’d compliment:
You’re servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

VIOLA

And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.

OLIVIA

For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blanks, rather than fill’d with me!

She declares her love for Cesario

OLIVIA

Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse
Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you:
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,
Hideth my heart

Viola departs and gives Olivia no cause to love her.

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Twelfth Night – Act Two Scene Five

The trap is laid for Malvolio and Toby, Andrew and Fabian hide in a box tree to witness

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, believing himself alone fantasises about being married to Olivia and chastising Sir Toby Belch for his drunkenness.

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.’

SIR TOBY BELCH

Out, scab!

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

That’s me, I warrant you.

MALVOLIO

‘One Sir Andrew,’–

SIR ANDREW

I knew ’twas I; for many do call me fool.

MALVOLIO

What employment have we here?

Taking up the letter

The trap is sprung

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

Her C’s, her U’s and her T’s: why that?

Why indeed?. Arden edition believe that “CUT” is slang for vagina, and making her P’s is urinating.

What follows is a riddle designed by Maria to play on Malvoilio’s vainness .

I’ve taken out the interjections from the hidden trio and just left Malvolio talking to himself

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.

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

‘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,–

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

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

And then I comes behind.

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.

Malvolio exits and Maria enters and they will see the fruits of this jest

MARIA

If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark
his first approach before my lady: he will come to
her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a colour she
abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests;
and he will smile upon her, which will now be so
unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a
melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him
into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow
me.

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Twelfth Night – Act Two Scene Three
A great comic scene with Toby Belch and Andrew Aguecheek

SIR ANDREW
Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up
late is to be up late.
SIR TOBY BELCH
A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can.
To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is
early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go
to bed betimes.

They are drunk and when the clown, Feste enters they have a song and a dance. Much to the annoyance to everyone else in the house

MARIA
What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady
have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him
turn you out of doors, never trust me.

And

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?

Maria has a plan to trick Malvolio

MARIA
Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the
youth of the count’s was today with thy lady, she is
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me
alone with him: if I do not gull him into a
nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not
think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed:
I know I can do it.
SIR TOBY BELCH
Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him.
MARIA
Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.
SIR ANDREW
O, if I thought that I’ld beat him like a dog!
SIR TOBY BELCH
What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason,
dear knight?
SIR ANDREW
I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason
good enough.

Maria will write a note to Malvolio in the style of Olivia

SIR TOBY BELCH
What wilt thou do?
MARIA
I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure
of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall 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.

Sir Toby and Sir Andrew decide it’s too late to go to bed so carry on drinking and eating

 

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Twelfth Night – Act One Scene One

Duke Orsino is at his court and obviously in a melancholy. He delivers the most famous opening lines in the canon

DUKE ORSINO

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! 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 odour! Enough; no more:
‘Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe’er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.

Curio tries to distract him

CURIO

Will you go hunt, my lord?

DUKE ORSINO

What, Curio?

CURIO

The hart.

DUKE ORSINO

Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged the air of pestilence!
That instant was I turn’d into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E’er since pursue me.

Valentine tells him and the audience the background to Olivia and Orsino’s melancholy

VALENTINE
The element itself, till seven years’ heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
A brother’s dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting in her sad remembrance.

 

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