Act 3, Scene I - Page 2

hope, is not great, sir, begging but
a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is
within, sir. I will construe to them whence you
come; who you are and what you would are out of my
welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn.

Exit

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.

Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW

SIR TOBY BELCH
Save you, gentleman.

VIOLA
And you, sir.

SIR ANDREW
Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

VIOLA
Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.

SIR ANDREW
I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.

SIR TOBY BELCH
Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous
you should enter, if your trade be to her.

VIOLA
I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the
list of my voyage.

SIR TOBY BELCH
Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.

VIOLA
My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

SIR TOBY BELCH
I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

VIOLA
I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we
are prevented.

Enter OLIVIA and MARIA

Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
odours on you!

SIR ANDREW
That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well.

VIOLA
My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant
and vouchsafed ear.

SIR ANDREW
'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em
all three all ready.

OLIVIA
Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.

Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA

Give me your hand, sir.

VIOLA
My duty, madam, and most humble service.

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!

VIOLA
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf.

OLIVIA
O, by your leave, I pray you,
I bade you never speak again of him: