1

not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast know of it, by this hand. [Exit. her not i' the end, call me Cut."

Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how

Mar. Go shake your ears. Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink you will. when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, field; and then to break promise with him, and 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight.

make a fool of him.

Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with any lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Maivolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nay-word, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it.

Sir To. Possess us,' possess us; tell us something of him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.A room in the Duke's palace. En-
ter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.
Duke. Give me some music: Now, good mor-
row, friends:—

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night;
More than light airs and recollected terms,
Methought, it aid relieve my passion much;
of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:
Come, but one verse.

Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship,

Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Pu-that should sing it.

ritan.

Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like

a dog.

Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight?

Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but have reason good enough.

I

Duke. Who was it?

lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the

about the house.

Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, [Exit Curio.-Music. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing For, such as I am, all true lovers are; In the sweet pangs of it remember me: constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, that cons state without book, and utters it by great Save, in the constant image of the creature warths: the best persuaded of himself, so cram- That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? red, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on him, love him; Where love is thron'd. Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work.

Sir To. What wilt thou do?

Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expres sure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated: I can write very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device.

Sir And. I hav't in my nose too.

Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him.

Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that

colour.

Sir And. And your horse now would make him

an ass.

Mar. Ass, I doubt not.

Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable.

Duke. Thou dost speak masterly:
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath it not, boy?
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves;

Vio.
A little, by your favour.
Duke. What kind of woman is't?
Vio.
Of your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years,
i'faith?

Vio. About your years, my lord.

Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman

take

An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart;
our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Than women's are.
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you; I know, my
physic will work with him. I will plant you two,
and let the fool make a third, where he shall find
the letter; observe his construction of it. For this To die, even when they to perfection grow!
night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.

Vio.
I think it well, my lord.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
For women are as roses; whose fair flower,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so ;

[Exit.

Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea.
Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.
Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that
adores me; What o' that?

Sir And. I was adored once too.

Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.-Thou hadst need send for more money.

Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am foul way out.

(1) Method of life. (2) By-word. (3) Inform us. (4) Affected.

The row of grass left by a mower.

a

Re-enter Curio, and Clown.

Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last
night :-

Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain:
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,

And the free maids, that weave their thread with

bones,"

And dallies with the innocence of love,
Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth, 10
Like the old age."1

(6) Amazon. (7) Horse. (8) Countenance.
(9) Lace makers. (10) Simple truth.
11) Times of simplicity.

And what's her history?

Duke
Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Clo. Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it;

My part of death no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too;-and yet I know not:-
Sir, shall I to this lady?"
Duke.

Ay, that's the theme.
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.

thrown;

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,
To weep there.

Duke. There's for thy pains.

Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Olivia's Garden. Enter Sir Toby
Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian.
Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.
Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this
sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the
niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some nota-
ble shame?

Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here.

Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will tool him black and blue:-Shall we

Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter Maria.

Sir To. Here comes the little villain:-How now, my nettle of India.

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Ma!volio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder i the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee;
and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taf-
feta, for thy mind is a very opal'-I would have
men of such constancy put to sea, that their busi-
ness might be every thing, and their intent every
where; for that's it, that always makes a good not, sir Andrew?
voyage of nothing.-Farewell.
[Exit Clown.
Duke. Let all the rest give place.--
[Exeunt Curio and attendants.
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty :
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.
Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.
Vio.
'Sooth, but you must.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her:
You tell her so; Must she not then be answer'd?
Duke. There's is no woman's sides,
Can 'bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,-
No motion of the liver, but the palate,-
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Enter Malvolio.

[Exit Maria.

Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria
once told me, she did affect me: and I have heard
herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it
should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses
me with a more exalted respect, than any one else
that follows her. What should I think on't?
Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue!
Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare
turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his ad-
vanced plumes!

Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue :-
Sir To. Peace, I say.

Mal. To be count Malvolio!

Sir To. Ah, rogue!

Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.

Sir To. Peace, peace!

Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the

strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !

Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows him!

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,'

Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping.

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!
Fab. O, peace, peace!

Mal. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.—Nay, but first, let me see,-let me see,-let me see. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him! Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel checks at it!

Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There Mal. And then to have the humour of state: is no obstruction in this;-And the end,What and after a demure travel of regard,-telling them, should that alphabetical position portend? if I I know my place, as I would they should do their's could make that resemble something in me,-to ask for my kinsman Toby: Softly! M, O, A, I.—

Sir To. Bolts and shackles!

Sir To. O, ay! make up that:--he is now at a cold scent.

Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though be as rank as a fox.

Mal. M,-Malvolio ;-M,-why, that begins my name.

Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and, per- it chance, wind up my watch, or play with some richi jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me: Sir To. Shall this fellow live? Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cur is excellent at faults. cars, yet peace.

Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the

Mal. M,-But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control: follow, but O does. Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?

Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech:

Sir To. What, what?

Mal. You must amend your drunkenness.
Sir To. Out, scab!

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.

Fab. And O shall end, I hope.

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O.

Mal. And then I comes behind;

Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you.

Mal. M, O, A, I;-This simulation is not as the former :-and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose.-If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stors I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatSir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me ness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their

Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight;

Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.

Mal. One sir Andrew:

fool.

hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. Mal. What employment have we here? And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, [Taking up the letter. cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opFab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. posite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours tongue tong arguments of state; put thyself into intimate reading aloud to him! the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, Mal. By my life, that is my lady's hand: these that sighs for thee. Remember who commended be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of cross-gartered: I say remember. Go to; thou art question, her hand. made if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: Why thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not that? worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She Mal. [reads] To the unknown beloved, this, and that would aller services with thee, my good wishes: her very phrases! By your leave,| The fortunate-unhappy ; wax-Soft!-and the impressure her Lucrece, Day light and champain discovers not more: this with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, whom should this be?

Fab. This wins him, liver and all.
Mal. [reads] Jove knows, I love:
But who?

Lips do not move,

No man must know.

No man must know.-What follows!-the numbers
altered!-No man must know :-if this should be
thee, Malvolio?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock !
Mal. I may command, where I adore:

But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore;
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.

Fab. A fustian riddle!

Sir To. Excellent wench, say I.

I will baffle sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice, the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crossgartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised!-Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee.

Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
Clo. I would play lord Pandarus+ of Phrygia, sir,
bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, beg. ging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come: who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the [Exeunt. word is over-worn.

Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool;
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;

SCENE I.—Olivia's Garden. Enter Viola, and And, like the haggard, check at every feather

That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art:

Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music: Dost For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;

Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age!-Aniece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be sentence is but a cheveril3 glove to a good wit; to her. How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!

Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the lists of my voyage.

Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than understand what you mean by bidding me taste ¡my legs.

Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon own most pregnant' and vouchsafed ear.

Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:I'll get 'em all three ready.

Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.

[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, sir.

Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service.
Oli. What is your name?

Vio. Cæsario is your servant's name, fair princess.
Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.

Fio. And he is yours, and his must needs be
yours;

Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,

Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

I

By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
love thee so, that, maugre all thy príde,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.
Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam; never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may'st

I

move

[Exeunt.

Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf:-

Oli.

O, by your leave, I pray you;
I bade you never speak again of him:
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that,
Than music from the spheres.

Dear lady,

Vio.
Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you:
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours: What might you
think?

Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your

receiving2

Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom,
Hides my poor heart: So let me hear you speak.
Vio. I pity you.

Oli. That's a degree to love.
Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to
again:
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion, than the wolf?

smile

[Clock strikes.
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.-
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man :
There lies your way, due west.
Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

Vio.

Oli. Stay:

Then westward-hoe:

I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me.
Vio. That you do think, you are not what you

are.

Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you.
Fio. Then think you right; I am not what I am.
Oli. I would, you were as I would have you be
Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am,
I wish it might; for now I am your fool.
Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!

(1) Ready. (2) Ready apprehension. (3) Step. (4) In spite of

tell me that.

Sir And. As plain as I see you now.

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason.

Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, since before Noah was a sailor.

sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jest, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was baulked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valour, or policy.

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your

Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist, as a politician.

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's

youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman, than report of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew.

Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be cursts and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be

(5) Separatists in queen Elizabeth's reign.
(6) Crabbed.