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TWELFTH NIGHT  - Feste

 

Act 2 Scene 3

 

Feste         (Sings)

                  O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

                  O, stay and hear; your true love’s coming,

                  That can sing both high and low.

                  Trip no further, pretty sweeting;

                  JournEys end in lovers meeting,

                  Every wise man’s son doth know.

 

 

Act 4 Scene 2

 

Maria         Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the                   curate; do it quickly. I’ll call Sir Toby the whilst.

 

 

Feste         Well, I’ll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in’t; and I would I were the first that ever                   dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to become the function well nor lean                   enough to be thought a good student but to be said an honest man and a good

                   housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar. The competitors                   enter.    (Enter Sir Toby and Maria)

 

 

Sir To.        Jove bless thee, master Parson.

 

 

 

Feste         Bonos dies, Sir Toby; for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very                   wittily said to a niece of King Goboduc ‘That that is is’’so I, being Master Parson, am                   master Parson; for what is ‘that’ but that and ‘is’ but is?

 

 

Sir To.        To him, Sir Topas.

 

 

 

Feste         What ho, I say! Peace in this prison!

 

 

 

Sir To.        The knave counterfeits well;a good knave

.

 

 

Mal.           (Within)  Who calls there?

 

 

 

Feste         Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.

 

 

 

Mal.            Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

 

 

 

Feste         Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this man! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

 

 

 

Sir To.       Well said, Master parson.

 

 

 

Mal.            Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they

                   have laid me here in hideous darkness.

 

 

Feste        Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest terms, for I am one of those                   gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy. Say’st thou this house is dark?

 

 

Mal.           I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark

 

 

 

Feste         Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more                   puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.

 

 

Mal.            I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say                   there was ever man thus abus’d. I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any

                   constant question.

 

 

Feste         What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl?

 

 

 

Mal.            That the soul of our grandam might happily inhabit a bird.

 

 

 

Feste         What think’s thou of his opinion?

 

 

 

Mal.           I think nobly of the soul, and no approve his opinion.

 

 

 

Feste         Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness; thou shalt hold th’ opinion of Pythagoras ere                   I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou disposses the soul of thy                   grandam. Fare thee well.