Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? Duke. Cur. The hart. What, Curio? Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, Enter VALENTINE. How now! what news from her? Val. So please my lord, I might not be ad mitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer: Duke. O she, that hath a heart of that fine frame, To pay this debt of love but to a brother, Her sweet perfection-with one self king!- bowers. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The Sea-coast. Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors. Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? Perchance, he is not drown'd :—what think you, sailors? Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were saved. Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance may he be. Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and those poor number saved with you, Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea; Vio. Not three hours' travel from this very place. VOL. III. 7 Cap. A noble duke in nature, as in name. Vio. What is his name? Cap. Orsino. Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him : He was a bachelor then. Cap. And so is now, or was so very late : For but a month ago I went from hence; And then 'twas fresh in murmur (as, you know, What great ones do, the less will prattle of) That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. Vio. What's she? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died: for whose dear love Vio. O that I served that lady, And might not be deliver'd to the world, What my estate is! Cap. That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suit, V10. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing, Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be : When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see! Vio. I thank thee: lead me on. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-A Room in Olivia's House. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and Maria. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer. Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek? Sir To. He's as tall a man as any 's in Illyria. Mar. What's that to the purpose? Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a-year. Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool and a prodigal. Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. Mar. He hath indeed,-almost natural: for, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave. Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria. He's a coward and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano-vulgo; for here comes sir Andrew Agueface. Enter Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby Belch? Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Mar. And you too, sir. Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. |