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Sir To. Then hadst thou an excellent head of hair. Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Rather than make unprofited return.

Sir To. Past question; for, thou seest, it will not Vio. Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then? curl by nature.

Duke. Ó! then unfold the passion of my love; Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: Sir To. Excellent: it hangs like flax on a distaff

, It shall become thee well to act my woes; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her She will attend it better in thy youth, legs, and spin it off.

Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: Vio. I think not so, my lord. your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to Duke.

Dear lad, believe it, one she'll none of me. The count himself, here hard For they shall yet belie thy happy years, by, woos her.

That say thou art a man : Diana's lip Sir To. She'll none o' the count: she'll not match is not more smooth, and rubious; thy small pipe above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. And all is semblative a woman's part.

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' I know, thy constellation is right apt the strangest mind i' the world : I delight in masques For this affair.—Some four, or five, attend him; and revels sometimes altogether.

All, if you will, for I myself am best,
Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight? When least in company.-- Prosper well in this,

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord
under the degree of my betters: and yet I will not To call his fortunes thine.
compare with an old man.


I'll do my best, Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? To woo your lady : [ Aside] yet, o, barful strife ! Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.

Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.

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

SCENE V.--A Room in Olivia's House. Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply

Enter Maria, and Clown. as strong as any man in Illyria. [Dances fantastically.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore Mar. Nay; either tell me where thou hast been, or have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why dost in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in absence. a coranto? My very walk should be a jig: I would Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. this world needs to fear no colours. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in ? Mar. Make that good. I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it Clo. He shall see none to fear. was formed under the star of a galliard.

Mar. A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. in a dun-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?

Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say under Taurus ?

in your foolery. Sir And. Taurus ? that's sides and heart.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; and Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see those that are fools, let them use their talents.

[Sir And. dances again.] Ha! higher: Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so long abha, ha! -excellent!

[Exeunt. sent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a

hanging to you? SCENE IV.-A Room in the Duke's Palace.

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; Enter VALENTINE, and Viola in man's attire.

and for turning away, let summer bear it out. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Mar. You are resolute, then? Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points. known you but three days, and already you are no Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if stranger.

both break, your gaskins fall. Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy that

you call in question the continuance of his love. way: if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?

witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Val. No, believe me.

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

comes my lady: make your excuse wisely; you were Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. best.

[Exit. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ?

Enter Olivia, and Malvolio. Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.

Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. [Curio, 8c. retire.] Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove -Cesario,

fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a Thou know'st no less but all: I have unclasp'd wise man : for what says Quinapalus? Better a witty To thee the book even of my secret soul ;

fool, than a foolish wit.-God bless thee, lady! Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her:

Oli, Take the fool away. Be not denied access, stand at her doors,

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows ? Take away the lady. And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,

Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you : Till thou have audience.

besides, you grow dishonest. Vio Sure, my noble lord,

Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counIf she be so abandon'd to her sorrow,

sel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, then is the As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself,


thee caper.

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her away:

the gate.




if he mend, he is no longer dishonest: if he cannot, eldest son should be a fool, whose skull Jove cram with
let the botcher mend him. Any thing that's mended brains ; for here comes one of thy kin, that has a most
is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched weak pia mater.
with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with

Enter Sir Toby Belch.
virtue. If that this simple syllogismn will serve, so; Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he at
if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true the gate, cousin ?
cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower.—The lady Sir To. A gentleman.
bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take Oli. A gentleman! What gentleman ?

Sir To. "Tis a gentleman here.- A plague o' these
Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.

pickle-herrings !-How now, sot?
Clo. Misprision in the highest degree -Lady, cu- Clo. Good sir Toby,-
cullus non facit monachum : that's as much as to say, Oli

. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by
I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give this lethargy?
me leave to prove you a fool.

Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at
Oli. Can you do it?
Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna.

Oli. Ay, marry; what is he?
Oli. Make your proof.

Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not:
Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna. Good give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Exit.
my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool?
Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness I'll 'bide Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman :
your proof.

one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second
Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?

mads him, and a third drowns him.
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.

Oli. Gó thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit
Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.

o' my coz, for he's in the third degree of drink;
Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

drown'd: go, look after him.
Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall
brother's soul being in heaven.—Take away the fool, look to the madman.

(Exit Clown.

Re-enter Malvolio.
Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he Mal. Madam, yond' young fellow swears he will
not mend ?

speak with you. I told him you were sick: he takes
Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to
him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make speak with you. I told him you were asleep: he seems
the better fool.

to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore
Clo. God send yon, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the comes to speak with you. What is to be said to bim,
better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn lady? he's fortified against any denial.
that I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for two- Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me.
pence that you are no fool.

Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand
Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio?

at your door like a sheriff's post, or be the supporter
Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such to a bench, but he'll speak with you.
a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day Oli. What kind of man is he?
with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a Mal. Why, of man kind.
stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already : Oli. What manner of man?
unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is Mal. Of very ill manner: he'll speak with you,

gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow you, or no.
so at these set kind of fools, to be no better than the Oli. Of what


and years is he? fools' zanies.

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young
Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste enough for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod,
with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him
and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird- e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is
bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets. There is no very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly:
slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of
rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though him.
he do nothing but reprove.

Oli. Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.
Clo. Now, Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls.
speakest well of fools.

Re-enter MARIA.
Re-enter Maria.

Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face.
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentle- We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
man much desires to speak with you.

Enter Viola.
Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?

Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she?
Mar. I know not, madam : 'tis a fair young man,

Oli. Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will?
and well attended.
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?

Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable

beauty.- I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

house, for I never saw her: I would be loath' to cast
Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you: he speaks nothing away my speech ; for, besides that it is excellently well
but madman. Fie on him! (Exit Maria.] Go you, penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
Malvolio : if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or beauties, let me sustain no scorn ; I am very comptible
not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Mal- even to the least sinister usage.
volio.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old,

Oli. Whence came you, sir?
and people dislike it.
clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give

Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and

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in my


me modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, Vio. I see what you are : you are too proud; that I may proceed in my speech.

But, if you were the devil, you are fair. Oli. Are you a comedian?

My lord and master loves you: 0! such love Vio. No, my profound heart; and yet, by the very should be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd fangs of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are The nonpareil of beauty ! you the lady of the house?


How does he love me? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.

l'io. With adorations, fertile tears, Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to Oli. Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love reserve. But this is from my commission. I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, heart of my message.

Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you In voices well divulg’d, free, learn 'd, and valiant, the praise.

And in dimension, and the shape of nature, Vio. Alas! I took great pains to study it, and 'tis A gracious person ; but yet I cannot love him. poetical.

He might have took his answer long ago. Oli. It is the more like to be feigned : I pray you, l'io. If I did love you in my master's flame, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates, and with such a suffering, such a deadly life, allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than In your denial I would find no sense : to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have I would not understand it. reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me Oli.

Why, what would you? to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. And call upon my soul within the house;

Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little Write loyal cantons of contemned love, longer.-Some mollification for your giant, sweet And sing them loud even in the dead of night; lady. Tell me your mind : I am a messenger. Halloo your name to the reverberate hills,

Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, And make the babbling gossip of the air when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your Cry out, Olivia! O! you should not rest office.

Between the elements of air and earth, Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no over- But you should pity me. ture of war, no taxation of homage. I hold the olive oli. You might do much. What is your parentage? hand :

my words are as full of peace as matter. V'io. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what I am a gentleman. would you?


you your

lord : Vio. The rudeness that hath appear'd in me, have I I cannot love him. Let him send no more, learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and Unless, perchance, you come to me again, what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to your To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation.

I thank you for your pains. Spend this for me. Oli. Give us the place alone. We will hear this

[Offering her purse. divinity. (Exit Maria.] Now, sir; what is your Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse : text?

My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Vio. Most sweet lady,

Love make his heart of fint that you shall love, Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said And let your fervour, like my master's, be of it. Where lies your text?

Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit. Vio. In Orsino's bosom.

Oli. What is your parentage ? Oli

. In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom? Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his I am a gentleman.”—I'll be sworn thou art: heart.

Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Oli. O! I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no Do give thee five-fold blazon.-Not too fast:--soft! more to say ?

soft! l'io. Good madam, let me see your face.

Unless the master were the man.--How now? Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to Even so quickly may one catch the plague. negociate with my face ? you are now out of your text: Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections, but we will draw the curtain, and show you the pic. With an invisible and subtle stealth, ture. Look you, sir; such a one I am at this pre- To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.sent: is't not well done?

[Unveiling. What, ho! Malvolio. Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.

Re-enter Malvolio, Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir: 'twill endure wind and Mal.

Here, madam, at your service. weather.

Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Would I, or not: tell him, I'll none of it.
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,

Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,

Nor hold him up with hopes: I am not for him. And leave the world no copy.

If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, Oli. O! sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. I will I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be Mal. Madam, I will. inventoried, and every particle, and utensil, labelled Oli. I do I know not what, and fear to find to my will; as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. two grey eyes with lids to them; item, one neck, one Fate, show thy force : ourselves we do not owe; chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? What is decreed must be, and be this so!






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stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his SCENE 1.—The Sea-coast. that finds it.


Vio. I left no ring with her: what means this lady? Fortune forbid


outside have not charm’d her! Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not, She made good view of me; indeed, so much, that I


Seb. By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly For she did speak in starts distractedly.

That, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,
over me: the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, She loves me, sure: the cunning of her passion
distemper yours; therefore, I shall crave of you your Invites me in this churlish messenger.
leave, that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad None of my lord's ring? why, he sent her none.
recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you.
Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are Poor lady, she were better love a dream.

I am the man :-if it be so, as 'tis,
Seb. No, 'sooth, sir. My determinate voyage is mere wherein the pregnant enemy does much.

Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
extravagancy; but I perceive in you so excellent a How easy is it, for the proper false
touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me

In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! what I am willing to keep in : therefore, it charges me

Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we,

You must
in manners the rather to express myself.

For such as we are made, if such we be.
know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, How will this fadge?
which I called Roderigo. My father
was that Sebastian And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;

My master loves her dearly;
of Messaline, whom, I know, you have heard of: he And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
left bebind him, myself, and a sister, both born in an
hour. If the heavens had been pleased, would we had What will become of this ? As I am man,
so ended! but, you, sir, altered that; for some hour As I am woman, now, alas the day!

My state is desperate for my master's love;
before you took me from the breach of the sea was my What thriftless sighs shall Olivia breathe!
sister drowned.

O time! thou must untangle this, not I;
Ant. Alas, the day!

It is too hard a knot for me t' untie.

[Exit. Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful : but, SCENE III.-A Room in Olivia's House. though I could not with self-estimation wander so far to Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir ANDREW AGUE-cheek. believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish hershe bore a mind that envy could not but call fair, She midnight is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere,

Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after
is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem thou know'st, -
to drown her remembrance again with more.

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I
Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
Seb. O, good Antonio! forgive me your


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

Sir To. A false conclusion :'I hate it as an unfilled Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me

To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, be your servant. Šeb. If you will not undo what you have done, that to bed betimes. 'Does not our life consist of the four

is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. elements ? Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I'am yet so near the manners of my mother, that consists of eating and drinking:

Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales I am bound to the count Orsino's court: fare- drink. - Marian, I say !-a stoop of wine !

Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and well.


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

Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith.
I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there;

Clo. How now, my hearts! Did you never see the

picture of we three? But, come what may, I do adore thee so,

Sir To. Welcome, ass.

Now let's have a catch. That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit.

Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent SCENE II.-A Street.

breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a Enter Viola; Malvolio following.

leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night

, Mal. Were not you even now with the countess when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians Olivia?

passing the equinoctial of Queubus : 'twas very good, Vio. Even now, sir: on a moderate pace I have t'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy lemon: hadst it? since arrived but hither. Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir : you might nose is no whipstock : my lady has a white hand, and

Clo. I did impeticote thy gratuity; for Malvolio's have saved me my pains, to have taken it away your- the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. self. She adds, moreover, that you should put your

Sir And. Excellent!

Why, this is the best fooling,
lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him. when all is done. Now, a song:
And one thing more; that you be never so hardy to Sir To. Come on: there is sixpence for you ; let's
come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your have a song,
lord's taking of this : receive it so.

Sir And. There's a testril of me, too: if one knight
Vio. She took no ring of me !—I'll none of it.
Mal. Come, sir; you peevishly threw it to her, and

give away sixpence so will I give another: go to, a song,

Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life! her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.


of me.



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you do?"

Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life.

Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone."

[Singing. Clo. 0, mistress mine! where are you roaming ?

Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. 0! stay, for here your true love's coming,

Clo. “ His eyes do show his days are almost done."

[Singing. That can sing both high and low.

Mal. Is't even so ?
Trip no farther, pretty sweeting;

Sir To. " But I will never die."
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.

Mal. This is much credit to you.
Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith.

Sir To. “Shall I bid him go?
Sir To. Good, good.

Clo, “What an if
Clo. What is love ? 'tis not hereafter;

Sir To. “Shall I bid him

go, and spare not?” Present mirth hath present laughter ;

Clo. “O! no, no, no, no, you dare not."
What's to come is still unsure :

Sir To. Out o'tune !--Sir, ye lie. Art any more
In delay there lies no plenty ;

than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Clo. Yes, by saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i’
Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. the mouth too.
Sir To. A contagious breath.

Sir To. Thou’rt i' the right.-Go, sir: rub your
Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i’ faith. chain with crumbs.A stoop of wine, Maria !

Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in conta- Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour gion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed ? at any thing more than contempt, you would not give Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw means for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by three souls out of one weaver ? shall we do that? this hand.

[Exit. Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a dog Mar. Go shake your ears. at a catch.

Sir And. "Twere as good a deed as to drink when a Clo. By’r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. man’s a-hungry, to challenge him to the field, and then

Sir And. Most certain. Let our catch be, “Thou to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Knave.

Sir To: Do't knight: I'll write thee a challenge, or Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave," knight? I shall I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. be constrain'd in't to call the knave, knight.

Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night. Since Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain’d that youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she one to call me knave. Begin, fool : it begins, “ Hold is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me thy peace.”

alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, cio. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. and make him a common recreation, do not think I Sir And. Good i faith. Come, begin.

have wit enough to lie straight in my bed. I know, I [They sing a catch. can do it. Enter MARIA.

Sir To. Possess us, possess us: tell us something of Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If him. my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, and Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

Sir And. O! if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian; we are politicians; Sir To. What! for being a Puritan? thy exquisite Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and “Three merry men reason, dear knight? be we." Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have blood ? Tilly-valley, lady! “There dwelt a man in reason good enough. Babylon, lady, lady!”

[Singing. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. constantly, but a time pleaser; an affectioned ass, that

Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disposed, cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths: and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I the best persuaded of himself; so crammed, as he thinks, do it more natural.

with excellences, that it is his ground of faith, that all Sir To. “O! the twelfth day of December,"- that look on him love him; and on that vice in him

[Singing. will my revenge find notable cause to work.
Mar. For the love o' God, peace!

Sir To. What wilt thou do?
Enter Malvolio.

Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles
Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? of love ; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape
Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his
like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself
alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your most feelingly personated. I can write very like my
coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly
voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, make distinction of our hands.
in you?

Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device.
Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sir And. I have't in my nose, too.

Sir To. He shall think, by the letter that thou wilt Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My drop, that it comes from my niece, and that she is in lady bade me


you, that, though she harbours you love with him. as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, Sir And. And your horse, now, would make him an ass. you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would Mar. Ass I doubt not. please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to Sir And. 0! 'twill be admirable. bid you farewell.

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you : I know, my physic


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