What You Will: A Queer-er Shakespeare (Series Finale)

I am so sorry, folks. Life went to hell in January and I completely forgot that I never scheduled this for y’all to enjoy. Anyway. Here it is finally. The finale.

Season Content Notes: Revenge plot, violence, boundary violations, sexual harassment, ableist language, blood, misgendering, self-misgendering

When Duke Orsino finally released Cesario, there was an apology in his eyes as he said, “I shall need to see thee in thy woman’s weeds.”

Cesario searched his face and nodded. To the duke, he could remain himself, but for a wedding… “The captain that did bring me first on shore hath my maid’s garments. He upon some action is now in durance, at Malvolio’s suit, a gentleman, and follower of my lady’s.”

“He shall enlarge him,” the countess said quickly. She was a tad eager to get the whole matter resolved so her embarrassment could be forgotten. But she also smiled happily at Sebastian, then shyly at Antonio, and so could not be too put out. “And yet, alas, now I remember me, they say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract.” She shook her head as the Fool and Fabian returned from within the manor. “A most extracting frenzy of mine own,” she blushed but did not look away from her new husband and his friend, “From my remembrance clearly banish’d his. How does he, sirrah?”

The Fool, with mock solemnity, bowed down and held out a dirty letter. “Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub 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 to-day morning, but as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.”

Olivia flapped her hand at the Fool, “Open’t, and read it.” Only half paying attention, she held her other hand out to Sebastian and blushed again when he took it — still holding tight to Antonio.

The Fool opened the letter and cleared his throat, taking a firm stance as one making a great announcement. “Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman.” Taking a great breath, he declaimed “‘By the Lord, madam,’–“

“How now!” the countess interrupted, glaring at him. “Art thou mad?”

“No, madam, I do but read madness. An your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox.”

“Prithee, read i’ thy right wits.”

The Fool bowed again, with an extra flourish this time. “So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus. Therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear.”

With a sigh, Oliva turned to Fabian, standing by the Fool. “Read it you, sirrah.”

Obediently, Fabian took the letter and began to read. “‘By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of and speak out of my injury. THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO.’”

The man did a serviceable job of reading, though without the heart and sinew the text required.

Ignoring the lack, the countess asked, “Did he write this?”

“Ay, madam,” the Fool assured her.

Pulling Cesario with him, the duke stepped forward. “This savours not much of distraction.”

“See him deliver’d, Fabian,” Olivia ordered, “bring him hither.”

Fabian left, and the countess turned the duke warily. “My lord, so please you, these things further thought on,” she began, “To think me as well a sister,” she smiled, somewhat awkwardly, at Cesario, “as a wife. One day shall crown the alliance on’t, so please you, here at my house and at my proper cost.”

“Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.”

Orsino turned to Cesario. “Your master quits you. And for your service done him, so much against the grain of your upbringing, and since you call’d me master for so long, here is my hand.” He held out his hand to match his words. One paying attention would have seen that he did not offer his hand as a gallant does to a woman, palm up. Rather he held his hand vertically for a proper clasp. Cesario looked at that hand, then looked at Orsino, a question in his eyes. Orsino nodded, and Cesario reached out his hand in return to clasp it strongly. The duke pulled Cesario into a tight hug and murmured into his hair, “You shall from this time be your master’s lord.”

Lady Olivia, distracted or perhaps not inclined to call attention to any more unusual happenings, walked up to Cesario with open arms saying, “A sister! you are she.”

The duke did not quite glare at her, but Cesario allowed the embrace.

A commotion came from the house announcing the return of Fabian, with a much battered and reduced Malvolio.

“Is this the madman?” Orsino asked.

“Ay, my lord, this same.” Olivia cautiously approached her steward, “How now, Malvolio!”

“Madam, you have done me wrong,” he cried, “Notorious wrong.”

“Have I, Malvolio? no.”

“Lady, you have.” He pulled out a dirty, wrinkled letter and shoved it at her. “Pray you, peruse that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand. Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase, or say ’tis not your seal, nor your invention. You can say none of this.” He pulled himself as best he could and glared at her while she read the letter Maria had left for him so long ago.

“Well, grant it then and tell me, in the modesty of honour, why you have given me such clear lights of favour, bade me come smiling and cross-garter’d to you, to put on yellow stockings and to frown upon Sir Toby and the lighter people. And, acting this in an obedient hope, why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d, kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, and made the most notorious geck and gull that e’er invention play’d on?” Tears cut tracks through the dirt on his face as he pleaded, “tell me why.”

“Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, though, I confess, much like the character but out of question ’tis Maria’s hand.”

Unwilling to let the matter play out further, Fabian and the Fool confessed their parts in the prank gone much too far. Malvolio’s cruelty had turned back on him tenfold. Justly angry, Malvolio stormed away, crying, “I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you.”

Glaring at Fabian and her Fool, Olivia said, “He hath been most notoriously abused.”

“Pursue him and entreat him to a peace,” Orsino ordered, shaking his head. He took Cesario’s hands between his own. “He hath not told us of the captain yet. When that is known and golden time convents, a solemn combination shall be made of our dear souls.” He smiled at Oliva, who had herself returned to Sebastian and was commanding the release of Antonio. “Meantime, sweet sister, we will not part from hence.”

On another day, the countess might have objected to his presumptuous demand upon her hospitality. But she saw the joy in Sebastian’s face still at the sight of his lost sister and said nothing.

“Cesario, come,” the duke said, leading the way toward the manor. “For so you shall be, while you are a man. And when in other habits you must hide, in our hearts the truth will bide.”

The others followed the happy couple into the manor, leaving the clown alone in the courtyard. The rest of the day, the Fool watched as Stewards and knights left, captains arrived, and priests were once more put to work. The whole time singing softly to himself:

When that I was and a little tiny boy,