<-- back to Scene Ten Intermission SCENE 11 OLIVIA's garden. Cupid, you pestulant twerp, part II. Viola returns, under duress, to Olivia's household.
Interlude: More jamming of the musicians. Viola walks up out of the audience and tosses a coin in Feste's bag.
VIOLA Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by thy tabour?
FESTE No, sir, I live by the church.
VIOLA Art thou a churchman?Pull the other one, it plays "Hey Nonny Nonny."
FESTE 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.
Music: rim-shot.
VIOLA So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.
To the musicians: Well? What? Don't I get a rim-shot too?
FESTE You have said, sir.
Amateurs.
To see this age! A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!
Your fly is open. Made you look. [Actually, Viola quite nervous at this: what? Am I missing something? Is this not how you wear these breeches? What? Help me out here.]
VIOLA Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
FESTE I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
VIOLA Why, man?
FESTE Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them.
VIOLA Thy reason, man?Look, only the first pun's free. I gotta make a living here.
FESTE Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.
The cab light says "Off Duty" for a reason. Beat it.
VIOLA I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.
FESTE Not so, sir, I do care for something;Feste's every "sir" is a sarcastic slap. Yeah, you're such a guy. Boy, what a guy you are. Whoa. What utter guy-ness.
but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.
At this, a very matador-like gesture to the musicians. You know, invisible. Like if I were to cover a woman with a cloak to hide her from the soldiers. Hypothetically speaking. And all that.
VIOLA Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool?
FESTE 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: I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words.
VIOLA I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's.Look, I'm running short on allies and I really don't need any more enemies. I could really use a friend right about now. How about it?
FESTE Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.
VIOLA Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee.It's about damn time. That's more like it. Okay, NOW I'm on duty. Let's see, what do we have to work with here... Whoa. That's the best disguise you could come up with?
FESTE Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!
Pulling her close, holding her by the chin, looking her over. The teasing is going a little too far: okay, you know, and I know you know, and you know I know you know ... but it's not like I have much of a choice here.
VIOLA By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin.
Look, mate. You have your disguises, and I have mine. Can we just leave it at that?
Is thy lady within?
FESTE Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
VIOLA Yes, being kept together and put to use.
FESTE I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
VIOLA I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged.Okay, fine. Here, I'll give you two Canadian pennies.
FESTE The matter, I 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 OSL.]
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.Sir Toby and Sir Andrew enter from OSL. No wonder almost every suit from Orsino has been unsuccessful: the entire household apparently spends their afternoons playing gatekeeper.
SIR TOBY Save you, gentleman.
VIOLA And you, sir.
SIR ANDREW Dieu vous garde, monsieur.Mu-ha-ha. Top that, Mr. would-be suitor-man.
VIOLA Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
Oh crap. Double take, and back to the phrasebook. He's one of them fancy-shmancy bi-linguists.
SIR ANDREW I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.
SIR TOBY 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 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.I am so homesick I want to scream. Messaline may be dull, but at least I know what all the words mean over there.
SIR TOBY I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
VIOLA I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are prevented.Olivia and Maria enter, the latter carrying a tea set. Olivia is transformed: makeup, colorful clothing, the whole nine yards. The effect is a little scary, that of a little girl playing with her mom's makeup for the first time; she's not really experienced with the whole being-sexy thing and she's desperate to get it right.
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.I'm having a really bad morning. Can we dump your fan club?
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.Sir Toby curtsies and leaves; Sir Andrew lollygags a little longer, hoping to be invited to sit as well. Maria pours the tea, and then leaves as well, coming back to yank Sir Andrew by the collar and out the door.
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!Don't tease.
'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 thoughtsReally? You mean it?
on his behalf.
Utterly deflated. Oh. For him, and not for you. Damn.
OLIVIA O, by your leave, I pray you, I bade you never speak again of him: but, would you undertake another suit, I had rather hear you to solicit that than music from the spheres.
Oy-vey. Could you make this any harder?
VIOLA Dear lady,--
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?Selling, and selling hard. Don't make me beg. I mean, I'm prepared to do that too, but it's just so unladylike.
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. So, let me hear you speak.
Gentle, but firm. Lie to her you cannot.
VIOLA I pity you.
Not quite what I was hoping for, but I'll take it.
OLIVIA That's a degree to love.
VIOLA No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof, that very oft we pity enemies.Handing back the ring. Quite the blow, all things considered. She was raised to think she was God's gift to men, and the Count has adored her for some time now. Wait, what's this "no" nonsense?
OLIVIA Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again.
This is the cruelty of your fate: you don't really think you know what love is, but you know you don't feel it for Orsino. You think you might know what it is, if it's what you feel for Cesario. But he doesn't love you. Maybe being a nun wouldn't be as bad as you'd originally thought.
O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one should be a prey, how much the better to fall before the lion than the wolf! [SOUND: Clock strikes] The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Suddenly aware of the implications of the wide gulf of physical distance Cesario's kept between you. Gods, he thinks I'm hideous and he's afraid I'm going to touch him.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: and yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, your wife is alike to reap a proper man:
Looking into his eyes, you realize that looking into his eyes again was a terrible mistake.
there lies your way, due west.
VIOLA Then westward-ho!It's been fun, but I gotta go. You know. Obligations elsewhere, and all that. Oh yeah, and thanks and stuff.
Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship!
Ready to bolt, then hesitantly turning back for one more salvo. This is probably a mistake, but I made a promise ...
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Staying a moment facing her back out of duty to Orsino, then beating feet the hell out of there. That was bad, but it could have been worse. Almost out of the spider's lair ...
OLIVIA Stay:
Almost.
I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.
VIOLA That you do think you are not what you are.
OLIVIA If I think so, I think the same of you.Lady, you have no idea.
VIOLA Then think you right: I am not what I am.
OLIVIA I would you were as I would have you be!
VIOLA Would it be better, madam, than I am? I wish it might, for now I am your fool.Suddenly, she is Pepe Le Peu and you are the cat with the misfortune to wind up with a white streak of paint on your back.
OLIVIA O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of his lip! A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon. Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honour, truth and every thing, I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Grabbing onto his leg, to be dragged along as he attempts to walk away.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, for that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause, but rather reason thus with reason fetter, love sought is good, but given unsought better.
Possibly kissing him, or reaching up to grab his head and thrust it into your cleavage. As he pulls away, throw your head against his chest. Whoa, what pecs.
VIOLA By innocence I swear, and by my youth I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
Grabbing both her hands, pulling her up and looking her in the eyes.
and that no woman has; nor never none shall mistress be of it, save I alone. And so adieu, good madam:
Up and out. Yes, she looks pathetic left there alone, but just get out and do not look back. Down into the audience...
never more will I my master's tears to you deplore.
OLIVIA Yet come again;Damnit. What the hell do I have to do to get fired from this job?
for thou perhaps mayst move that heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
Viola finishes crossing out into the audience, Olivia back into the house OSL. Neither is in a good way at the moment.
--> on to Scene Twelve Twelfth Night Annotated Script © 2001 Kevin M. Hollenbeck.
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