xnsmv/testtesttest huggingface dataset:
Malvolio: Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favor at anything more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule. She shall know of it, by this hand.
Malvolio: ’Tis but fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me, and I have heard herself come thus near, that should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than anyone else that follows her. What should I think on ’t?
Malvolio: To be Count Malvolio.
Malvolio: There is example for ’t. The lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
Malvolio: Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state—
Malvolio: Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown, having come from a daybed where I have left Olivia sleeping—
Malvolio: And then to have the humor of state; and after a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place, as I would they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman Toby—
Malvolio: Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him. I frown the while, and perchance wind up my watch, or play with my— some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to me—
Malvolio: I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control—
Malvolio: Saying, “ Cousin Toby, my fortunes, having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech—”
Malvolio: “ You must amend your drunkenness.”
Malvolio: “ Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight—”
Malvolio: “ One Sir Andrew.”
Malvolio: What employment have we here?
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 she makes her great P’s. It is in contempt of question her hand.
Malvolio: To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes— Her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft. And the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal— ’tis my lady!
Malvolio: To whom should this be?
Malvolio: Jove knows I love,
Malvolio: But who?
Malvolio: Lips, do not move;
Malvolio: No man must know.
Malvolio: “ No man must know.” What follows? The numbers altered. “ No man must know.” If this should be thee, Malvolio!
Malvolio: I may command where I adore,
Malvolio: But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
Malvolio: With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore;
Malvolio: M. O. A. I. doth sway my life.
Malvolio: “ M. O. A. I. doth sway my life.” Nay, but first let me see, let me see, let me see.
Malvolio: “ 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.”—
Malvolio: “ M”— Malvolio. “ M”— why, that begins my name!
Malvolio: “ M.” But then there is no consonancy in the sequel that suffers under probation. “ A” should follow, but “ O” does.
Malvolio: And then “ I” comes behind.
Malvolio: “ 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. 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 desir’st 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 champian 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. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertain’st 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: Sweet lady, ho, ho!
Malvolio: Sad, lady? I could be sad. This does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering, but what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: “ Please one, and please all.”
Malvolio: Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.
Malvolio: To bed? “ Ay, sweetheart, and I’ll come to thee.”
Malvolio: At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws!
Malvolio: “ Be not afraid of greatness.” ’Twas well writ.
Malvolio: “ Some are born great—”
Malvolio: “ Some achieve greatness—”
Malvolio: “ And some have greatness thrust upon them.”
Malvolio: “ Remember who commended thy yellow stockings—”
Malvolio: “ And wished to see thee cross-gartered.”
Malvolio: “ Go to, thou art made, if thou desir’st to be so—”
Malvolio: “ If not, let me see thee a servant still.”
Malvolio: O ho, do you come near me now? No worse man than Sir Toby to look to me. This concurs directly with the letter. She sends him on purpose that I may appear stubborn to him, for she incites me to that in the letter: “ Cast thy humble slough,” says she. “ Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity,” and consequently sets down the manner how: as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some Sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her, but it is Jove’s doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went away now, “ Let this fellow be looked to.” “ Fellow!” Not “ Malvolio,” nor after my degree, but “ fellow.” Why, everything adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance— what can be said? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Malvolio: Go off, I discard you. Let me enjoy my private. Go off.
Malvolio: Aha, does she so?
Malvolio: Do you know what you say?
Malvolio: How now, mistress?
Malvolio: Sir!
Malvolio: My prayers, minx?
Malvolio: Go hang yourselves all! You are idle, shallow things. I am not of your element. You shall know more hereafter.
Malvolio: Who calls there?
Malvolio: Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady—
Malvolio: Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad. They have laid me here in hideous darkness—
Malvolio: As hell, Sir Topas.
Malvolio: I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark.
Malvolio: I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell. And I say there was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are. Make the trial of it in any constant question.
Malvolio: That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.
Malvolio: I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.
Malvolio: Sir Topas, Sir Topas!
Malvolio: Fool!
Malvolio: Fool, I say!
Malvolio: Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper. As I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for ’t.
Malvolio: Ay, good Fool.
Malvolio: Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, Fool, as thou art.
Malvolio: They have here propertied me, keep me in darkness, send ministers to me— asses!— and do all they can to face me out of my wits.
Malvolio: Sir Topas!
Malvolio: Fool! Fool! Fool, I say!
Malvolio: Good Fool, help me to some light and some paper. I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.
Malvolio: By this hand, I am. Good Fool, some ink, paper, and light; and convey what I will set down to my lady. It shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.
Malvolio: Believe me, I am not. I tell thee true.
Malvolio: Fool, I’ll requite it in the highest degree. I prithee, begone.
Malvolio: Madam, you have done me wrong,
Malvolio: Notorious wrong.
Malvolio: Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter.
Malvolio: You must not now deny it is your hand.
Malvolio: Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase,
Malvolio: Or say ’tis not your seal, not your invention.
Malvolio: You can say none of this. Well, grant it then,
Malvolio: And tell me, in the modesty of honor,
Malvolio: Why you have given me such clear lights of favor?
Malvolio: Bade me come smiling and cross-gartered to you,
Malvolio: To put on yellow stockings, and to frown
Malvolio: Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people?
Malvolio: And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Malvolio: Why have you suffered me to be imprisoned,
Malvolio: Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
Malvolio: And made the most notorious geck and gull
Malvolio: That e’er invention played on? Tell me why.
Malvolio: I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you!
Antonio: Will you stay no longer? Nor will you not that I go with you?
Antonio: Let me yet know of you whither you are bound.
Antonio: Alas the day!
Antonio: Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
Antonio: If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.
Antonio: The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!
Antonio: I have many enemies in Orsino’s court,
Antonio: Else would I very shortly see thee there.
Antonio: But come what may, I do adore thee so
Antonio: That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.
Antonio: I could not stay behind you. My desire,
Antonio: More sharp than filèd steel, did spur me forth;
Antonio: And not all love to see you, though so much
Antonio: As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,
Antonio: But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Antonio: Being skill-less in these parts, which to a stranger,
Antonio: Unguided and unfriended, often prove
Antonio: Rough and unhospitable. My willing love,
Antonio: The rather by these arguments of fear,
Antonio: Set forth in your pursuit.
Antonio: Tomorrow, sir. Best first go see your lodging.
Antonio: Would you’d pardon me.
Antonio: I do not without danger walk these streets.
Antonio: Once in a sea fight ’gainst the Count his galleys
Antonio: I did some service, of such note indeed
Antonio: That were I ta’en here it would scarce be answered.
Antonio: Th’ offense is not of such a bloody nature,
Antonio: Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel
Antonio: Might well have given us bloody argument.
Antonio: It might have since been answered in repaying
Antonio: What we took from them, which, for traffic’s sake,
Antonio: Most of our city did. Only myself stood out,
Antonio: For which, if I be lapsèd in this place,
Antonio: I shall pay dear.
Antonio: It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here’s my purse.
Antonio: In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Antonio: Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet
Antonio: Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge
Antonio: With viewing of the town. There shall you have me.
Antonio: Haply your eye shall light upon some toy
Antonio: You have desire to purchase, and your store,
Antonio: I think, is not for idle markets, sir.
Antonio: To th’ Elephant.
Antonio: Put up your sword. If this young gentleman
Antonio: Have done offense, I take the fault on me.
Antonio: If you offend him, I for him defy you.
Antonio: One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more
Antonio: Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Antonio: You do mistake me, sir.
Antonio: I must obey. This comes with seeking you.
Antonio: But there’s no remedy. I shall answer it.
Antonio: What will you do, now my necessity
Antonio: Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me
Antonio: Much more for what I cannot do for you
Antonio: Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed,
Antonio: But be of comfort.
Antonio: I must entreat of you some of that money.
Antonio: Will you deny me now?
Antonio: Is ’t possible that my deserts to you
Antonio: Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery,
Antonio: Lest that it make me so unsound a man
Antonio: As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
Antonio: That I have done for you.
Antonio: O heavens themselves!
Antonio: Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here
Antonio: I snatched one half out of the jaws of death,
Antonio: Relieved him with such sanctity of love,
Antonio: And to his image, which methought did promise
Antonio: Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
Antonio: But O, how vile an idol proves this god!
Antonio: Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
Antonio: In nature there’s no blemish but the mind;
Antonio: None can be called deformed but the unkind.
Antonio: Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil
Antonio: Are empty trunks o’erflourished by the devil.
Antonio: Lead me on.
Antonio: Orsino, noble sir,
Antonio: Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me.
Antonio: Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,
Antonio: Though, I confess, on base and ground enough,
Antonio: Orsino’s enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither.
Antonio: That most ingrateful boy there by your side
Antonio: From the rude sea’s enraged and foamy mouth
Antonio: Did I redeem; a wrack past hope he was.
Antonio: His life I gave him and did thereto add
Antonio: My love, without retention or restraint,
Antonio: All his in dedication. For his sake
Antonio: Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Antonio: Into the danger of this adverse town;
Antonio: Drew to defend him when he was beset;
Antonio: Where, being apprehended, his false cunning
Antonio: ( Not meaning to partake with me in danger)
Antonio: Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance
Antonio: And grew a twenty years’ removèd thing
Antonio: While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
Antonio: Which I had recommended to his use
Antonio: Not half an hour before.
Antonio: Today, my lord; and for three months before,
Antonio: No int’rim, not a minute’s vacancy,
Antonio: Both day and night did we keep company.
Antonio: Sebastian are you?
Antonio: How have you made division of yourself?
Antonio: An apple cleft in two is not more twin
Antonio: Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
Sebastian: By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me. The malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours. Therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.
Sebastian: No, sooth, sir. My determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in. Therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me, then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My father was that Sebastian of Messaline whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! But you, sir, altered that, for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned.
Sebastian: A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful. But though I could not with such estimable wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her: she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.
Sebastian: O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
Sebastian: If you will not undo what you have done— that is, kill him whom you have recovered— desire it not. Fare you well at once. My bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother that, upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino’s court. Farewell.
Sebastian: I would not by my will have troubled you,
Sebastian: But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
Sebastian: I will no further chide you.
Sebastian: My kind Antonio,
Sebastian: I can no other answer make but thanks,
Sebastian: And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns
Sebastian: Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay.
Sebastian: But were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,
Sebastian: You should find better dealing. What’s to do?
Sebastian: Shall we go see the relics of this town?
Sebastian: I am not weary, and ’tis long to night.
Sebastian: I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
Sebastian: With the memorials and the things of fame
Sebastian: That do renown this city.
Sebastian: Belike you slew great number of his people?
Sebastian: Do not then walk too open.
Sebastian: Why I your purse?
Sebastian: I’ll be your purse-bearer and leave you
Sebastian: For an hour.
Sebastian: I do remember.
Sebastian: Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow. Let me be clear of thee.
Sebastian: I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else. Thou know’st not me.
Sebastian: I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me. There’s money for thee. If you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment.
Sebastian: Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there.— Are all the people mad?
Sebastian: Let go thy hand!
Sebastian: I will be free from thee.
Sebastian: What wouldst thou now?
Sebastian: If thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
Sebastian: What relish is in this? How runs the stream?
Sebastian: Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.
Sebastian: Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;
Sebastian: If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
Sebastian: Madam, I will.
Sebastian: This is the air; that is the glorious sun.
Sebastian: This pearl she gave me, I do feel ’t and see ’t.
Sebastian: And though ’tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Sebastian: Yet ’tis not madness. Where’s Antonio, then?
Sebastian: I could not find him at the Elephant.
Sebastian: Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
Sebastian: That he did range the town to seek me out.
Sebastian: His counsel now might do me golden service.
Sebastian: For though my soul disputes well with my sense
Sebastian: That this may be some error, but no madness,
Sebastian: Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
Sebastian: So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
Sebastian: That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
Sebastian: And wrangle with my reason that persuades me
Sebastian: To any other trust but that I am mad—
Sebastian: Or else the lady’s mad. Yet if ’twere so,
Sebastian: She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Sebastian: Take and give back affairs and their dispatch
Sebastian: With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing
Sebastian: As I perceive she does. There’s something in ’t
Sebastian: That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.
Sebastian: I’ll follow this good man and go with you,
Sebastian: And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
Sebastian: I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman,
Sebastian: But, had it been the brother of my blood,
Sebastian: I must have done no less with wit and safety.
Sebastian: You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that
Sebastian: I do perceive it hath offended you.
Sebastian: Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
Sebastian: We made each other but so late ago.
Sebastian: Antonio, O, my dear Antonio!
Sebastian: How have the hours racked and tortured me
Sebastian: Since I have lost thee!
Sebastian: Fear’st thou that, Antonio?
Sebastian: Do I stand there? I never had a brother,
Sebastian: Nor can there be that deity in my nature
Sebastian: Of here and everywhere. I had a sister
Sebastian: Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured.
Sebastian: Of charity, what kin are you to me?
Sebastian: What countryman? What name? What parentage?
Sebastian: A spirit I am indeed,
Sebastian: But am in that dimension grossly clad
Sebastian: Which from the womb I did participate.
Sebastian: Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
Sebastian: I should my tears let fall upon your cheek
Sebastian: And say “ Thrice welcome, drownèd Viola.”
Sebastian: And so had mine.
Sebastian: O, that record is lively in my soul!
Sebastian: He finishèd indeed his mortal act
Sebastian: That day that made my sister thirteen years.
Sebastian: So comes it, lady, you have been mistook.
Sebastian: But nature to her bias drew in that.
Sebastian: You would have been contracted to a maid.
Sebastian: Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived:
Sebastian: You are betrothed both to a maid and man.
Fabian: Nay, I’ll come. If I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
Fabian: I would exult, man. You know he brought me out o’ favor with my lady about a bearbaiting here.
Fabian: O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkeycock of him. How he jets under his advanced plumes!
Fabian: O, peace, now he’s deeply in. Look how imagination blows him.
Fabian: O, peace, peace!
Fabian: O, peace, peace, peace! Now, now.
Fabian: Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace!
Fabian: Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot!
Fabian: Now is the woodcock near the gin.
Fabian: This wins him, liver and all.
Fabian: A fustian riddle!
Fabian: What dish o’ poison has she dressed him!
Fabian: Sowter will cry upon ’t for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.
Fabian: Did not I say he would work it out? The cur is excellent at faults.
Fabian: And “ O” shall end, I hope.
Fabian: Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.
Fabian: I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
Fabian: Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Fabian: You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.
Fabian: This was a great argument of love in her toward you.
Fabian: I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason.
Fabian: She did show favor to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valor, 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 valor or policy.
Fabian: There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
Fabian: This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.
Fabian: We shall have a rare letter from him. But you’ll not deliver ’t?
Fabian: And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.
Fabian: Here he is, here he is.— How is ’t with you, sir? How is ’t with you, man?
Fabian: Carry his water to th’ wisewoman.
Fabian: No way but gentleness, gently, gently. The fiend is rough and will not be roughly used.
Fabian: If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
Fabian: Why, we shall make him mad indeed.
Fabian: More matter for a May morning.
Fabian: Is ’t so saucy?
Fabian: Good, and valiant.
Fabian: A good note, that keeps you from the blow of the law.
Fabian: Very brief, and to exceeding good sense— less.
Fabian: Good.
Fabian: Still you keep o’ th’ windy side of the law. Good.
Fabian: Here he comes with your niece. Give them way till he take leave, and presently after him.
Fabian: I know the knight is incensed against you even to a mortal arbitrament, but nothing of the circumstance more.