xnsmv/testtesttest huggingface dataset:
Fool: 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 pilchers are to herrings: the husband’s the bigger. I am indeed not her Fool but her corrupter of words.
Fool: Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere. 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.
Fool: Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!
Fool: Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Fool: I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
Fool: The matter I hope is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will conster 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 overworn.
Fool: Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you?
Fool: Well held out, i’ faith. No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my lady to bid you come speak with her, nor your name is not Master Cesario, nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so.
Fool: Vent my folly? He has heard that word of some great man and now applies it to a Fool. Vent my folly? I am afraid this great lubber the world will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird thy strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall I vent to her that thou art coming?
Fool: By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give Fools money get themselves a good report— after fourteen years’ purchase.
Fool: This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of your coats for twopence.
Fool: 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.
Fool: 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 Gorboduc “ That that is, is,” so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for what is “ that” but “ that” and “ is” but “ is”?
Fool: What ho, I say! Peace in this prison!
Fool: Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.
Fool: Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this man! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?
Fool: 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. Sayst thou that house is dark?
Fool: Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clerestories toward the south-north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction?
Fool: Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but ignorance, in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.
Fool: What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wildfowl?
Fool: What thinkst thou of his opinion?
Fool: 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 dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well.
Fool: Nay, I am for all waters.
Fool: Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does.
Fool: My lady is unkind, perdy.
Fool: Alas, why is she so?
Fool: She loves another— Who calls, ha?
Fool: Master Malvolio?
Fool: Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
Fool: But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a Fool.
Fool: Advise you what you say. The minister is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore. Endeavor thyself to sleep and leave thy vain bibble-babble.
Fool: Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I, sir? Not I, sir! God buy you, good Sir Topas. Marry, amen. I will, sir, I will.
Fool: Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for speaking to you.
Fool: Welladay that you were, sir!
Fool: I will help you to ’t. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit?
Fool: Nay, I’ll ne’er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink.
Fool: I am gone, sir, and anon, sir,
Fool: I’ll be with you again,
Fool: In a trice, like to the old Vice,
Fool: Your need to sustain.
Fool: Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath,
Fool: Cries “ aha!” to the devil;
Fool: Like a mad lad, “ Pare thy nails, dad!
Fool: Adieu, goodman devil.”
Fool: Good Master Fabian, grant me another request.
Fool: Do not desire to see this letter.
Fool: Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings.
Fool: Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends.
Fool: No, sir, the worse.
Fool: Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused. So that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why then the worse for my friends and the better for my foes.
Fool: By my troth, sir, no— though it please you to be one of my friends.
Fool: But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.
Fool: Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.
Fool: Primo, secundo, tertio is a good play, and the old saying is, the third pays for all. The triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure, or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind— one, two, three.
Fool: Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir, but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness. But, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap. I will awake it anon.
Fool: O, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i’ th’ morning.
Fool: Truly, madam, he holds Beelzebub at the stave’s end as well as a man in his case may do. Has here writ a letter to you. I should have given ’t you today morning. But as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.
Fool: Look then to be well edified, when the Fool delivers the madman. By the Lord, madam—
Fool: No, madam, I do but read madness. An your Ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.
Fool: So I do, madonna. But to read his right wits is to read thus. Therefore, perpend, my princess, and give ear.
Fool: Ay, madam.
Fool: Why, “ some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them.” I was one, sir, in this interlude, one Sir Topas, sir, but that’s all one. “ By the Lord, Fool, I am not mad”— but, do you remember “ Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal; an you smile not, he’s gagged”? And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
Fool: When that I was and a little tiny boy,
Fool: With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
Fool: A foolish thing was but a toy,
Fool: For the rain it raineth every day.
Fool: But when I came to man’s estate,
Fool: ’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
Fool: But when I came, alas, to wive,
Fool: By swaggering could I never thrive,
Fool: But when I came unto my beds,
Fool: With tosspots still had drunken heads,
Fool: A great while ago the world begun,
Fool: But that’s all one, our play is done,
Fool: And we’ll strive to please you every day.
Olivia: Take the Fool away.
Olivia: Go to, you’re a dry Fool. I’ll no more of you. Besides, you grow dishonest.
Olivia: Sir, I bade them take away you.
Olivia: Can you do it?
Olivia: Make your proof.
Olivia: Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I’ll bide your proof.
Olivia: Good Fool, for my brother’s death.
Olivia: I know his soul is in heaven, Fool.
Olivia: What think you of this Fool, Malvolio? Doth he not mend?
Olivia: How say you to that, Malvolio?
Olivia: O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon bullets. There is no slander in an allowed Fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.
Olivia: From the Count Orsino, is it?
Olivia: Who of my people hold him in delay?
Olivia: Fetch him off, I pray you. He speaks nothing but madman. Fie on him! Go you, Malvolio. If it be a suit from the Count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.
Olivia: Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
Olivia: By mine honor, half drunk!— What is he at the gate, cousin?
Olivia: A gentleman? What gentleman?
Olivia: Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?
Olivia: Ay, marry, what is he?
Olivia: What’s a drunken man like, Fool?
Olivia: Go thou and seek the crowner and let him sit o’ my coz, for he’s in the third degree of drink: he’s drowned. Go look after him.
Olivia: Tell him he shall not speak with me.
Olivia: What kind o’ man is he?
Olivia: What manner of man?
Olivia: Of what personage and years is he?
Olivia: Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.
Olivia: Give me my veil. Come, throw it o’er my face.
Olivia: We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy.
Olivia: Speak to me. I shall answer for her. Your will?
Olivia: Whence came you, sir?
Olivia: Are you a comedian?
Olivia: If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Olivia: Come to what is important in ’t. I forgive you the praise.
Olivia: It is the more like to be feigned. I pray you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, begone; if you have reason, be brief. ’Tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
Olivia: Tell me your mind.
Olivia: Sure you have some hideous matter to deliver when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.
Olivia: Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?
Olivia: Give us the place alone. We will hear this divinity. Now, sir, what is your text?
Olivia: A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text?
Olivia: In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
Olivia: O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say?
Olivia: Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? You are now out of your text. But we will draw the curtain and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one I was this present. Is ’t not well done?
Olivia: ’Tis in grain, sir; ’twill endure wind and weather.
Olivia: O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted! I will give out divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried and every particle and utensil labeled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two gray eyes with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me?
Olivia: How does he love me?
Olivia: Your lord does know my mind. I cannot love him.
Olivia: Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Olivia: Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
Olivia: In voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant,
Olivia: And in dimension and the shape of nature
Olivia: A gracious person. But yet I cannot love him.
Olivia: He might have took his answer long ago.
Olivia: Why, what would you?
Olivia: You might do much.
Olivia: What is your parentage?
Olivia: Get you to your lord.
Olivia: I cannot love him. Let him send no more—
Olivia: Unless perchance you come to me again
Olivia: To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well.
Olivia: I thank you for your pains. Spend this for me.
Olivia: “ What is your parentage?”
Olivia: “ Above my fortunes, yet my state is well.
Olivia: I am a gentleman.” I’ll be sworn thou art.
Olivia: Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit
Olivia: Do give thee fivefold blazon. Not too fast! Soft, soft!
Olivia: Unless the master were the man. How now?
Olivia: Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
Olivia: Methinks I feel this youth’s perfections
Olivia: With an invisible and subtle stealth
Olivia: To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.—
Olivia: What ho, Malvolio!
Olivia: Run after that same peevish messenger,
Olivia: The County’s man. He left this ring behind him,
Olivia: Would I or not. Tell him I’ll none of it.
Olivia: Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
Olivia: Nor hold him up with hopes. I am not for him.
Olivia: If that the youth will come this way tomorrow,
Olivia: I’ll give him reasons for ’t. Hie thee, Malvolio.
Olivia: I do I know not what, and fear to find
Olivia: Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
Olivia: Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe.
Olivia: What is decreed must be, and be this so.
Olivia: Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
Olivia: Give me your hand, sir.
Olivia: What is your name?
Olivia: My servant, sir? ’Twas never merry world
Olivia: Since lowly feigning was called compliment.
Olivia: You’re servant to the Count Orsino, youth.
Olivia: For him, I think not on him. For his thoughts,
Olivia: Would they were blanks rather than filled with me.
Olivia: O, by your leave, I pray you.
Olivia: I bade you never speak again of him.
Olivia: But would you undertake another suit,
Olivia: I had rather hear you to solicit that
Olivia: Than music from the spheres.
Olivia: Give me leave, beseech you. I did send,
Olivia: After the last enchantment you did here,
Olivia: A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse
Olivia: Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you.
Olivia: Under your hard construction must I sit,
Olivia: To force that on you in a shameful cunning
Olivia: Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Olivia: Have you not set mine honor at the stake
Olivia: And baited it with all th’ unmuzzled thoughts
Olivia: That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving
Olivia: Enough is shown. A cypress, not a bosom,
Olivia: Hides my heart. So, let me hear you speak.
Olivia: That’s a degree to love.
Olivia: Why then methinks ’tis time to smile again.
Olivia: O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
Olivia: If one should be a prey, how much the better
Olivia: To fall before the lion than the wolf.
Olivia: The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Olivia: Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you.
Olivia: And yet when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Olivia: Your wife is like to reap a proper man.
Olivia: There lies your way, due west.
Olivia: Stay. I prithee, tell me what thou think’st of me.
Olivia: If I think so, I think the same of you.
Olivia: I would you were as I would have you be.
Olivia: O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
Olivia: In the contempt and anger of his lip!
Olivia: A murd’rous guilt shows not itself more soon
Olivia: Than love that would seem hid. Love’s night is noon.—
Olivia: Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
Olivia: By maidhood, honor, truth, and everything,
Olivia: I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Olivia: Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Olivia: Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
Olivia: For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;
Olivia: But rather reason thus with reason fetter:
Olivia: Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
Olivia: Yet come again, for thou perhaps mayst move
Olivia: That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
Olivia: I have sent after him. He says he’ll come.
Olivia: How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?
Olivia: For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed.
Olivia: I speak too loud.—
Olivia: Where’s Malvolio? He is sad and civil
Olivia: And suits well for a servant with my fortunes.
Olivia: Where is Malvolio?
Olivia: Why, what’s the matter? Does he rave?
Olivia: Go call him hither. I am as mad as he,
Olivia: If sad and merry madness equal be.
Olivia: How now, Malvolio?
Olivia: Smil’st thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
Olivia: Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee?
Olivia: Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Olivia: God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?
Olivia: What mean’st thou by that, Malvolio?
Olivia: Ha?
Olivia: What sayst thou?
Olivia: Heaven restore thee!
Olivia: Thy yellow stockings?
Olivia: Cross-gartered?
Olivia: Am I made?
Olivia: Why, this is very midsummer madness!
Olivia: I’ll come to him. Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where’s my Cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him. I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry.
Olivia: I have said too much unto a heart of stone
Olivia: And laid mine honor too unchary on ’t.
Olivia: There’s something in me that reproves my fault,
Olivia: But such a headstrong potent fault it is
Olivia: That it but mocks reproof.
Olivia: Here, wear this jewel for me. ’Tis my picture.
Olivia: Refuse it not. It hath no tongue to vex you.
Olivia: And I beseech you come again tomorrow.
Olivia: What shall you ask of me that I’ll deny,
Olivia: That honor, saved, may upon asking give?
Olivia: How with mine honor may I give him that
Olivia: Which I have given to you?
Olivia: Well, come again tomorrow. Fare thee well.
Olivia: A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell.
Olivia: Hold, Toby! On thy life I charge thee, hold!
Olivia: Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch,
Olivia: Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,
Olivia: Where manners ne’er were preached! Out of my sight!—
Olivia: Be not offended, dear Cesario.—
Olivia: Rudesby, begone!
Olivia: I prithee, gentle friend,
Olivia: Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
Olivia: In this uncivil and unjust extent
Olivia: Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
Olivia: And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
Olivia: This ruffian hath botched up, that thou thereby
Olivia: Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go.
Olivia: Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me!
Olivia: He started one poor heart of mine, in thee.
Olivia: Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou ’dst be ruled by me!
Olivia: O, say so, and so be!
Olivia: Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well,
Olivia: Now go with me and with this holy man
Olivia: Into the chantry by. There, before him
Olivia: And underneath that consecrated roof,
Olivia: Plight me the full assurance of your faith,
Olivia: That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
Olivia: May live at peace. He shall conceal it
Olivia: Whiles you are willing it shall come to note,
Olivia: What time we will our celebration keep
Olivia: According to my birth. What do you say?
Olivia: Then lead the way, good father, and heavens so shine
Olivia: That they may fairly note this act of mine.
Olivia: What would my lord, but that he may not have,
Olivia: Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?—
Olivia: Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
Olivia: What do you say, Cesario?— Good my lord—
Olivia: If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
Olivia: It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear
Olivia: As howling after music.
Olivia: Still so constant, lord.
Olivia: Even what it please my lord that shall become him.
Olivia: Where goes Cesario?
Olivia: Ay me, detested! How am I beguiled!
Olivia: Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?—
Olivia: Call forth the holy father.
Olivia: Whither, my lord?— Cesario, husband, stay.
Olivia: Ay, husband. Can he that deny?
Olivia: Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear
Olivia: That makes thee strangle thy propriety.
Olivia: Fear not, Cesario. Take thy fortunes up.
Olivia: Be that thou know’st thou art, and then thou art
Olivia: As great as that thou fear’st.
Olivia: O, welcome, father.
Olivia: Father, I charge thee by thy reverence
Olivia: Here to unfold ( though lately we intended
Olivia: To keep in darkness what occasion now
Olivia: Reveals before ’tis ripe) what thou dost know
Olivia: Hath newly passed between this youth and me.
Olivia: O, do not swear.
Olivia: Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.
Olivia: What’s the matter?
Olivia: Who has done this, Sir Andrew?
Olivia: Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them?
Olivia: Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to.
Olivia: Most wonderful!
Olivia: He shall enlarge him.
Olivia: Fetch Malvolio hither.
Olivia: And yet, alas, now I remember me,
Olivia: They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract.
Olivia: A most extracting frenzy of mine own
Olivia: From my remembrance clearly banished his.
Olivia: How does he, sirrah?
Olivia: Open ’t and read it.
Olivia: How now, art thou mad?
Olivia: Prithee, read i’ thy right wits.
Olivia: Read it you, sirrah.
Olivia: Did he write this?
Olivia: See him delivered, Fabian. Bring him hither.
Olivia: My lord, so please you, these things further thought on,
Olivia: To think me as well a sister as a wife,
Olivia: One day shall crown th’ alliance on ’t, so please you,
Olivia: Here at my house, and at my proper cost.
Olivia: A sister! You are she.
Olivia: Ay, my lord, this same.—
Olivia: Have I, Malvolio? No.
Olivia: Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Olivia: Though I confess much like the character.
Olivia: But out of question, ’tis Maria’s hand.
Olivia: And now I do bethink me, it was she
Olivia: First told me thou wast mad; then cam’st in smiling,
Olivia: And in such forms which here were presupposed
Olivia: Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content.
Olivia: This practice hath most shrewdly passed upon thee.
Olivia: But when we know the grounds and authors of it,
Olivia: Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Olivia: Of thine own cause.
Olivia: Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!
Olivia: He hath been most notoriously abused.
Malvolio: Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better Fool.
Malvolio: I marvel your Ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal. I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he’s out of his guard already. Unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest I take these wise men that crow so at these set kind of Fools no better than the Fools’ zanies.
Malvolio: Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? He’s fortified against any denial.
Malvolio: Has been told so, and he says he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff’s post and be the supporter to a bench, but he’ll speak with you.
Malvolio: Why, of mankind.
Malvolio: Of very ill manner. He’ll speak with you, will you or no.
Malvolio: Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy— as a squash is before ’tis a peascod, or a codling when ’tis almost an apple. ’Tis with him in standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favored, and he speaks very shrewishly. One would think his mother’s milk were scarce out of him.
Malvolio: Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
Malvolio: Here, madam, at your service.
Malvolio: Madam, I will.
Malvolio: Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia?
Malvolio: She returns this ring to you, sir. You might have saved me my pains to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him. And one thing more, that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs unless it be to report your lord’s taking of this. Receive it so.
Malvolio: Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her, and her will is it should be so returned.
Malvolio: If it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.
Malvolio: My masters, are you mad? Or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do you make an ale-house of my lady’s house, that you squeak out your coziers’ catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
Malvolio: Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you that, though she harbors you as her kinsman, she’s nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.
Malvolio: Is ’t even so?
Malvolio: This is much credit to you.