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Even in a minute ! so full of shapes is fancy,
Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?
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, E’er since pursue me. —
How now! what news from her? Val. So p.ease my lord, I might not be ad
mitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer : The element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view; But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this, to season A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh, And lasting, in her sad remembrance. Dike. O she, that hath a heart of that fine
frame, To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Hath killed the flock of all affections else That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and
fill'dHer sweet perfection --with one self king !-Away before me to sweet beds of flowers; Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.
SCENE II.-The Sea-coast.
Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors.
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
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, Most provident in peril, bind himself (Courage and hope both teaching him the prac
For saying so, there's gold:
born, Not three hours' travel from this very place.' Vio. Who governs here?
Cap. A noble duke in nature, as in name.
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
O that I served that lady,
That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the duke's.
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 With this thy fair and outward character. I pray thee, (and I'll pay thee bounteously,) Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid For such disguise as, haply, shall become The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke; Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him,
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
Vio. I thank thee : lead me on.
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?
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 To. Sweet sir Andrew !