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My brother he is in Elysium.
SCENE III. -A Room in Olivia's House. Perchance, he is not drown'd: - What think you, sailors ?
Enter Sir Toby Belch, and MARIA. Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were saved. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take Vio. O my poor brother ! and so, perchance, may the death of her brother thus ? I am sure, care's an he be.
enemy to life. Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in chance,
earlier o'nights ; your cousin, my lady, takes great Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
exceptions to your ill hours. When you, and that poor number saved with you, Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within Most provident in peril, bind himself
the modest limits of order. (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) Sir To. Confine ? I'll confine myself no finer To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea ;
than I am : these clothes are good enough to drink Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
in, and so be these boots too ; an they be not, let I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, them hang themselves in their own straps. So long as I could see.
Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: Vio.
For saying so, there's gold: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and of a foolish Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
knight, that you brought in one night here, to be Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
her wooer. The like of him. Know'st thou this country? Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? Cap. Ay, madam, well'; for I was bred and Mar. Ay, he. born,
Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. Not three hours' travel from this very place.
Mar. What's that to the purpose ? Vio. Who governs here ?
· Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Cap.
A noble duke, in nature, Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these As in his name
ducats ; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Vio. What is his name?
Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so ! he plays o' the Cap.
Orsino. viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages Vio. Orsino ! I have heard my father name him : word for word without book, and hath all the good He was a bachelor then.
gifts of nature. Cap. And so is now,
Mar. He hath, indeed, - almost natural : for, Or was so very late : for but a month
besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the In murmur, (as, you know, what great ones do, gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the The less will prattle of,) that he did seek
prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave. The love of fair Olivia.
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and Vio. What's she?
substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving in your company, her
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll In the protection of his son, her brother,
drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, throat, and drink in Illyria : He's a coward, and a They say, she hath abjur'd the company
coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his And sight of men.
brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, Vio.
O, that I served that lady: wench? Castiliano-vulgo ; for here comes Sir AnAnd might not be delivered to the world,
drew Ague-face. Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is.
Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Cap.
That were hard to compass; Sir A. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby Beleh? Because she will admit no kind of suit,
Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew?
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.
Sir And. What's that?
Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. With this thy fair and outward character.
Sir And Good mistress Accost, I desire better I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, acquaintance. Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
Mar. My name is Mary, sir. For such disguise as, haply, shall become
Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost, The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke; Sir To. You mistake, knight : accost, is, front her, Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him, board her, woo her, assail her. It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her And speak to him in many sorts of musick, in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? That will allow me very worth his service.
Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
thou might'st never draw sword again. Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be ; Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see ! might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you
Vio. I thank thee : Lead me on. (Exeunt. think you have fools in band ?
Var. Sir, I have not you by the hand.
well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about dad. Marry, but you shall have; and here's some revels ? ay land.
Sir To. What shall we do else ? were we not born Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring under Taurus? pour hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Taurus ? that's sides and heart.
S& And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me metapbor?
see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent ! Mar. It's dry, sir.
[Exeunt. & And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest ? SCENE IV. - A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Mar. A dry jest, sir.
Enter VALENTINE, and Viola in man's attire. Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends :
Val. If the duke continue these favours towards arty, now I let go your hand, I am barren. you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he
[Exit Mania hath known you but three days, and already you are & To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: no stranger. When did I see thee so put down? •
Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli&r And. Never in your life, I think; unless you gence, that you call in question the continuance of se canary put me down: Methinks sometimes I his love : Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ? have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary Val. No, believe me. man has : but I am a great eater of beef, and, I be lieve, that does harm to my wit.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. & To. No question.
Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Sa And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ? ride bome to-morrow, sir Toby.
Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Sr To Pourquoy, my dear knight?
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. — Cesario, And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that To thee the book even of my secret soul : I bave in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting: 0, Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her ; bed I but followed the arts !
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors, & Te. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
Till thou have audience. &r Ard. Why, would that have mended my hair? Vio
Sure, my noble lord, Sr Te Past question ; for thou seest, it will not If she be so abandon’d to her sorrow curl by nature.
As it is spoke, she never will admit me. Ser &ad. But it becomes me well enough, does't Duke. "Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, not?
Rather than make unprofited return. Fir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord: What then? and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her 'Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, lax and spin it off.
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith : So And Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: It shall become thee well to act my woes; your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four She will attend it better in thy youth, ta ose she'll none of me: the count himself, here Than in a nuncio of more grave aspéct. tard by, woos her.
Vio. I think not so, my lord. & Tr. She'll none o' the count; she'll not match Duke.
Dear lad, believe it ; above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; 1 For they shall yet belie thy happy years, bare beard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. That say, thou art a man : Diana's lip
Ss And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow Is not more smooth, and rubious ; thy small pipe o the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, masques and revels sometimes altogether.
And all is semblative a woman's part. So I's. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight? I know, thy constellation is right apt
5 And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, For this affair: – Some four, or five, attend him ; under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not All, if you will; for I myself am best, compare with an old man.
When least in company : - Prosper well in this, & To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? Vio.
I'll do my best, And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
To call his fortunes thine. Sta. And I can cut the mutton to't
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, Se And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, To woo your lady: yet, [ Aside.) a barful strife ! simply a strong as any man in Illyria.
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. Sr T. Wherefore are these things hid? where
(Exeunt. free have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why SCENE V.- A Room in Olivia's House. dost than not go to church in a galliard, and come
Enter MARIA and Clown. home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, . space. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide or I will not open my lips, so wide as a bristle may Tortues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution enter, in way of thy excuse : my lady will hang thee thay leg, it was formed under the star of a gal for thy absence.
Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hanged in And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent this world, needs to fear no colours.
Mar. Make that good.
Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death Clo. He shall see none to fear.
shake him: Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where make the better fool. that saying was born, of, I fear no colours.
Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?
better encreasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for say in your foolery.
two-pence that you are no fool. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such
Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long a barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day absent : or, to be turned away; is not that as good with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than as a hanging to you?
Look you now, he's out of his guard alClo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar- ready; unless you laugh and minister occasion to riage ; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise Mar. You are resolute then ?
men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two than the fools' zanies. points.
Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, if both break, your gaskins fall.
guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt ! Well, go thy things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet
Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here man, though he do nothing but reprove. comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for best.
[Exit. thou speakest well of fools ! Enter Olivia and MALVOLIO.
Re-enter MARIA. Clo. Wit; and 't be thy will, put me into good
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young genfooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools ; and I, that am sure I lack thee, tleman, much desires to speak with you. may pass for a wise man : For what says Quinapa
Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?
Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, lus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit. God bless thee, lady!
and well attended, Oli. Take the fool away,
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of thing but madman: Fye on him! [Exit Maria.]
Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks noyou : besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dis
Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink; miss it. (Erit Malvolio.) Now you see, sir, how then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. he cannot, let the botcher mend him : Any thing eldest son should be a fool : whose skull Jove cram
Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy that's mended, is but patched : virtue, that trans
with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has gresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue : If that this simple syllo
a most weak pria mater. gism will serve, so; if it will not, What remedy ?
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH. As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower: — the lady bade take away the fool; there Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. - What is he fore, I say again, take her away.
at the gate, cousin ? Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
Sir To. A gentleman. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree ! - Lady, Oli. A gentleman ? What gentleman ? Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to Sir To. 'Tis a gentlemen here - A plague o'these say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madon pickle-herrings ! How
sot? na, give me leave to prove you a fool.
Clo. Good Sir Toby, Oli. Can you do it?
Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna.
by this lethargy? Oli. Make your proof.
Sir To. Lechery! I defy Jechery: There's one Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna; Good at the gate. my mouse of virtue, answer me.
. Ay, marry ; what is he? Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll Sir To. Let hiin be the devil, an he will, I care 'bide your proof.
not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Erit. Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou ?
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ? Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.
one draught above heat makes him a fool; the seOli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
cond mads him ; and a third drowns him. Cio. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him your brother's soul being in heaven. – Take away sit o' my coz ; for he's in the third degree of drink, the fool, gentlemen.
he's drown'd: go, look after him. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio ? doth Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the fool be not mend?
shall look to the madman.
gone ; if you have reason, be brief : 'tis not that Re-enter MALVOLIO.
time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will a dialogue. speak with you. I told him you were sick ; he Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way. takes on him to understand so much, and therefore Vio. No, good swabber ; I am to hull here a comes to speak with you; I told him you were little longer. - Some mollification for your giant, asleep; he xems to have a fore-knowledge of that sweet lady. toe, and therefore comes to speak with you. What Oli. Tell me your mind. is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any
Vio. I am a messenger. denial.
Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de O Tell him, he shall not speak with me. liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak
Yd. He has been told so; and he says, he'll your office. stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. overture of war, no taxation of homage ; I hold the 02. What kind of man is he?
olive in my hand : my words are as full of peace as Mal. Why, of mankind. dä. What manner of man?
Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what Mol. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, would you ? will you, or no.
Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me, cá. Of what personage, and years, is he? have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I
Mel. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young am, and what I would, are as secret as maidenenough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peas- head: to your ears, divinity ; to any other's, procod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis fanation. with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear this He is very well-fvoured, and he speaks very shrew- divinity. (Erit Maria.] Now, sir, what is your ishly; one would think, his mother's milk were text? scarce out of him.
Vio. Most sweet lady,
said of it. Where lies your text? Ma. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. (Exit. Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? Re-enter MARIA.
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his Odi. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my face; heart. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
Oli. O, I have read it ; it is heresy. Have you
no more to say ? Enter VIOLA.
Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Fus. The bonourable lady of the house, which Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to is she?
negociate with my face ? you are now out of your Od Speak to me, I shall answer for her : Your text: but we will draw the curtain, and shew you vill?
the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was Pia. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable this present : Is't not well done ? (Unveiling beauty, - I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir ; 'twill endure wind and East away my speech; for, besides that it is excel-weather. lently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : Fery comptible, even to the least sinister usage. Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, Oli. Whence came you, sir ?
If you will lead these graces to the grave, Tis. I can say little more than I have studied, And leave the world no copy. and that question's out of my part. Good gentle Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will cre, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady give out divers schedules of my beauty: It shall be of the house, that I may procced in my speech. inventoried ; and every particle, and utensil, labeloli. Are you a comedian ?
led to my will : as, item, two lips indifferent red; Pn. No, my profound heart : and yet, by the item, two grey eyes, with lids to them ; item, one Fery fange of malice I swear I am not that I play. neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither Are you the lady of the house?
to 'praise me? 0. If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud; 2. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp But, if you were the devil, you are fair. pourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours My lord and master loves you ; 0, such love to reserre. But this is from my commission : I will could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd en with my speech in your praise, and then shew The nonpareil of beauty! you the heart of my message.
How does he love me? 0. Come to what is important in't: I forgive Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, you the praise.
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. For Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot poetical.
love him : 08. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, fon, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; petes; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder | In voices well divulg'd, free, learn’d, and valiant, * you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be An), in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him; And let your fervour, like my master's, be
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. What is your parentage ?
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : In your denial I would find no sense,
I am a gentleman. I'll be sworn thou art; I would not understand it.
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Oli.
Why, what would you? Do give thee five-fold blazon: - - Not too fast: Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
soft! soft! And call upon my soul within the house ;
Unless the master were the man. - How now? Write loyal cantons of contemned love,
Even so quickly may one catch the plague? And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections, Holla your name to the reverberate hills,
With an invisible and subtle stealth, And make the babbling gossip of the air
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest
What, ho, Malvolio !.
Here, madam, at your service.
Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, Vió. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : The county's man: he left this ring behind him, I am a gentleman.
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 : Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, To tell me how he takes it. Fare
you well : I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. Mal. Madam, I will.
[Exit. Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find purse;
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Fate, shew thy force : Ourselves we do not owe; Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love ; What is decreed, must be ; and be this so! [Eric
them on you.
water, though I seem to drown her remembrance SCENE I. - The Sea-coast.
again with more. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.
Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not, Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let that I go with you?
me be your servant. Seb. By your patience, no : my stars shine darkly Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, over me ; the malignancy of my fate might, per- that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it haps, distemper yours ; therefore I shall crave of you Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of your leave, that I may bear my evils alone : It kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my were a bad recompense for your love, to-lay any of mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine
eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are Orsino's court : farewell.
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is I have many enemies in Orsino's court, mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex Else would I very shortly see thee there : cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort But, come what may, I do adore thee so, from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Erit. charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my
SCENE II. A Street. name is Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I Enter Viola ; Malvolio following. know, you have heard of: he left behind him, my Mal. Were not you even now with the countess self, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the Olivia ? heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so ended! Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have but, you, sir, altered that; for, some hour before since arrived but hither. you took me from the breach of the sea, was my Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir ;
you sister drowned.
might have saved me my pains, to have taken it Ant. Alas, the day!
away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much re put your lord into a desperate assurance she will sembled me, was yet of inany accounted beautiful : none of himn : And one thing more ; that you be but, though I could not, with such estimable won never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless der, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not it so. but call fair ; she is drowned already, sir, with salt Vio. She took the ring of me: I'll none of its