Act 4, Scene 2 Flashcards
Mar:
Make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do it quickly; I’ll call Sir Toby.
Well, I’ll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in’t; and I would I were the first that ever dissembles in such a gown. The competitors enter.
Belch:
Jove bless thee, Master Parson.
Bonds dies, Sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prauge said to a niece of King Gorboduc, “That that is is;” so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for what is “that” but “that” and “is” but “is?”
Belch:
To him, Sir Topas.
What ho, I say! Peace in this prison!
Mal:
Who calls thee?
Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.
Mal:
…good Sir Topas, go to my lady.
Out, hyperbolical fiend! Tallest thou nothing but of ladies?
Mal:
…have laid me here in hideous darkness.
Fie, thou dishonest Satan! Sayest thou that the house is dark?
Mal:
As hell, Sir Topas.
Why it hath bay windows! And yet complainest thou of obstruction?
Mal:
…I say to you, this house is dark.
Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness but ignorance.
Mal:
I am no more mad than you are.
Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness. Fare thee well.
Belch:
…come by and by to my chamber.
“Hey Robin, jolly Robin, tell me how thy lady does.”
Mal:
Fool!
“My Lady is unkind, Perdy.”
Mal:
Fool!!
“Alas, why is she so?”
Mal:
Fool, I say!
“She loves another” – Who calls, ha?
…I will live to be thankful to thee for’t.
Master Malvolio?
Mal:
Ay, good fool.
Alas, sir, how fell you besides your 5 wits?
Mal:
I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.
But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.
Mal:
…and do all they can to face me out of my wits.
Advise what you say; the minister is here. (As Topas) Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! Endeavor thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.
Mal:
Sir Topas!
(As Topas) Maintain no words with him, good fellow. (As Feste) Who, I, sir? Not I, sir. God be wi’ you, good Sir Topas. (As Topas) Merry, amen. (As Feste) I will, sir, I will.
Fool, fool, fool, I say!
Alas, sir, be patient, what say you sir? I am spent for speaking with you.
… I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.
Alas that you are, sir.
…it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.
I will help you to’t. But tell me true, are you mad indeed? Or do you but counterfeit?
Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true
Nay, I’ll ne’er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink.