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Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head To thee the book even of my secret soul: of hair. Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors, Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature.

Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.

Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby': your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, woos her.

Sir To She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't,

And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
Till thou have audience.

Vio.

Sure, my noble lord,

If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; what then?

Vio.

Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: It shall become thee well to act my woes; She will attend it better in thy youth, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspéct. I think not so, my lord. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fel- Duke. Dear lad, believe it low o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in For they shall yet belie thy happy years masques and revels sometimes altogether. That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,

man.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe knight?

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he And all is semblative a woman's part. be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will I know, thy constellation is right apt not compare with an old man.

For this affair:-Some four, or five, attend him;

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, All, if you will; for I myself am best, knight?

Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.

Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.

Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick,

simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

When least in company: -Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Vio.

I'll do my best,

To woo your lady: yet [Aside.] a barful strife!

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? where- Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

fore have these gifts a curtain before them? are

they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture?

[Exeunt.

Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, SCENE V. A room in Olivia's house. Enter

and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou

Maria and Clown.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been,

mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may

by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels?

Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus ?

Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!-excellent! [Exeunt.

enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hanged in this world, needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear.

Mar. A good lentens answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; SCENE IV. A room in the Duke's palace. En-and those that are fools, let them use their talents. ter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire.

Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ? Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and attendants.

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.
Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?
Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd

(1) Cinque-pace, the name of a dance.
(2) Stocking. (3) Go thy way.
(4) Full of impediments.

Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning away, let sunimer bear it

out.

Mar. You are resolute then ?

Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two

points.

Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you Exit.

were best.

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Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the lady.

Oli. Go to, you are a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest.

Re-enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gen-
tleman, much desires to speak with you.
Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?
Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man,

and well attended.

Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! [Erit Maria.] Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvolio.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it.

Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest mend Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram he cannot, let the botcher mend him: any thing, with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has that's mended, is but patched: virtue, that trans- a most weak pia mater.

gresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that

amends, is but patched with virtue: if that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower: -the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.

Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree!-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.

Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexterously, good madonna.
Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna; good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll

'bide your proof.

Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.
Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.-Take away the fool, gentlemen.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two-pence that you are no fool.

Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio?

Mal. 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.2

Oli. 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.

Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools!

(1) Italian, mistress, dame. (2) Fools' baubles. (3) Short arrows. (4) Lying.

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Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: there's one at the gate.

[Exit.

Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.

Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drown'd: go, look after him.

Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Erit Clown.

Re-enter Malvolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he w. speak with you. I told him you were sick; he take... on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so: and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you.

Oli. What kind of man is he?
Mal. Why, of man kind.

Oli. What manner of man?

Mal. Of very ill manner: he'll speak with you,

will you, or no.

Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? Mal. 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 e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

(5) The cover of the brain.

Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

Re-enter Maria.

[Exit.

Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be

said of it. Where lies your text?

Vio. In Orsino's bosom.

Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of

Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my his heart. face;

We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

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Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible,1 even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, sir?

Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.

Oli. Are you a comedian ?

Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?

Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp

Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say?

Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.
Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to

negociate with my face? you are now out of your

we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present: is't not well done? [Unveiling.

Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.
Oli. "Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and
weather.

Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and
white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

Oli. 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, labelled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to 'praise me?

Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud:
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
My lord and master loves you; O, such love.

yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours Could but be recompens'd, though you were

to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will

crown'd

on with my speech in your praise, and then show The nonpareil of beauty!

you the heart of my message.

Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.

Oli.

How does he love me?

Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and

Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot

love him:

'tis poetical.

Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates: Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him; time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping He might have took his answer long ago.

a dialogue.

Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber: I am to hull here a little longer.-Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady.

Oli. Tell me your mind.
Vio. I am a messenger.

Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame,
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense,
I would not understand it.

Oli.

Why, what would you. Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- Write loyal cantons of contemned love, liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak And sing them loud even in the dead of night; your office. Vio. It alone concerns your ear. Holla your name to the reverberate hills, I bring no And make the babbling gossip of the air overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace

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I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.
Vio. I am no fee'd post,1 lady; keep your purse;
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love;
And let your fervour, like my master's, be

Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit.
Oli. What is your parentage ?

Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :

I am a gentleman. - I'll be sworn thou art ;
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon:-Not too fast:-
soft! soft!

Unless the master were the man. -How. now?
Even so quickly may one catch the plague ?
Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invisible and subtle stealth,
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.-
What, ho, Malvolio!-

Mal.

Re-enter Malvolio.

Here, madam, at your service.

Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
Would I, or not: tell him, I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,

Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio.
Mal. Madam, I will.

[Exit.

Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe;
What is decreed, must be; and be this so! [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The sea-coast. Enter Antonio and
Sebastian.

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Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee!

I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there:
But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Erit.

SCENE II. A street. Enter Viola; Malvolio
following.

Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia?

Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.

Mal. 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. Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her: what means this lady? Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her

Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not, She made good view of me; indeed, so much, that I go with you?

tongue,

Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly over me: the malignancy of my fate might, For she did speak in starts distractedly. perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: Invites me in this churlish messenger. it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.

of them on you. I am the man;-if it be so (as 'tis,) Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are Poor lady, she were better love a dream. bound. Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate, voyage is Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- How easy is it, for the proper-false" cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we; it charges me in manners the rather to express For, such as we are made of, such we be. myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly; name is Sebastian, which I called Rodrigo; my And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me : know, you have heard of: he left behind him, What will become of this! As I am man, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the My state is desperate for my master's love; heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so Asl am woman, now alas the day! ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?

before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned.

Ant. Alas, the day!

O time, thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie.

Seb. 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 after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo

[Exit.

SCENE III. A room in Olivia's house. Enter
Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.

Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed

boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could

surgere, thou know'st,

(1) Messenger. (2) Proclamation of gentility.
(3) Count.
(4) Own, possess. (5) Reveal.

(6) Dexterous, ready fiend.
(7) Fair deceiver.

(8) Suit.

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I, Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou

know, to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unηfilled can: to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements?

Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.-Maria, I say! a stoop of wine!

Enter Clown.

Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith. Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three?1

knave.

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Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such we be. Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool blood? Tilly-valley, lady! There dwelt a man in has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling Babylon, lady, lady! [Singing. last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; fooling.

'twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disthy leman: hadst it?

posed, and so do I too; he does it with a better

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvo-grace, but I do it more natural. lio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all's done. Now, a song.

Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song.

Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a

Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of

good life?

Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.
Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life.

SONG.

Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low :

Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith.
Sir To. Good, good.

Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;

Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come, is still unsure :

In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me sweet-and-twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December,-
Mar. For the love of God, peace.

Enter Malvolio.

[Singing.

Mal. 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 ye make an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you?

Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!10

Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harboûrs you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, 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.

Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs

be gone.

Mar. Nay, good sir Toby.

Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done.
Mal. Is't even so?

Sir To. But I will never die.

Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true Mal. This is much credit to you. knight.

Sir To. A contagious breath.

Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.

Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is duleet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dances indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?

Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog
Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch

at a catch.

well,

(1) Loggerheads be. (2) Voice. (3) Mistress. (4) I did impetticoat thy gratuity.

(5) Drink till the sky turns round.

ncer. (7) Name of an old song.

Sir To. Shall I bid him go?
Clo. What an if you do?

[Singing.

Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

Sir To. Out o' time? sir, ye lie.-Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.

Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain11 with crums:-a stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would

(8) Equivalent to filly fally, shilly shally.
Cobblers. (10) Hang yourself.
(11) Stewards anciently wore a chain.

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