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 field; and then to break promise with him, and

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.

Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack,
'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; coine,
knight.
[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:-

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

2

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

That old and antique song we heard last night;
More than light airs and recollected terms,
Methought, it did 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, that should sing it.

Duke. Who was it?

Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is 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 swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so cram- That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? med, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on him, love him; 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 expressure 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.

Where love is thron'd.
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat

Duke. Thou dost speak masterly:
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath it not, boy?
Hath stay'd upon some favour3 that it loves;

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

Vio.

i'faith?

Vio. About your years, my lord.

Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the womar take

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

Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou An elder than herself; so wears she to him, wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that So sways she level in her husband's heart; she is in love with him. 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,

Sir And. And your horse now would make him

an ass.

Mar. Ass, I doubt not.

Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable.
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
night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.
[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.

a

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

The row of grass left by a mower,

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.

To dic, even when they to perfection grow!
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so ;

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

C.o. Are you ready, sir?
Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing.

SONG.

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,

Music.

Duke.

And what's her history?
Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask check: 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.

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.

On black coffin let there be strown;

my

Not a friend, not a friend greet

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 notable shame?

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taf me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baitfeta, for thy mind is a very opal'-I would haveing here. Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent every and we will fool him black and blue:-Shall we where; for that's it, that always makes a good not, sir Andrew? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 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 Maria.

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

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio'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.

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, sav.

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, altting 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!

2

Mal. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.-Nay, but first, let me see,-let me sec,--let me see. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him! Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel4 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 nd after a demure travel of regard,-telling them, should that alphabetical position portend? if 1 I know my place, as I would they should do their's -to ask for my kinsman Toby: Sir To. Bolts and shackles!

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, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me: Sir To. Shall this fellow live?

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.

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

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

Sir To. What, what?

Mal. You must amend your drunkenness.

Sir To. Out, scab!

could make that resemble something in me,Softly! M, O, A, I.—

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

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

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

Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.

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

Fab. And O shall end, I hope.

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, 0.

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

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of the former :-and yet, to crush this a little, it would

our plot.

bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my

Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your name. Soft! here follows prose.-If this fall into time with a foolish knight;

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

Mal. One sir Andrew :

Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call

fool.

Mal. What employment have we here? [Taking up the letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatme ness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough," and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into 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 alter 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.

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

No man must know.-What follows!-the numbers altered! No man must know :-if this should be a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of thee, Malvolio?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock!3
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.

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.

Enter Maria.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fao. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
Sir And. Or o' mine either?

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip,' and become thy bond-slave?

Sir And. I'faith, or I cither.

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.

Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?
Sir To. Like aqua-vita with a midwife.

Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.

Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool?

Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's.

Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think, I saw your wisdom there.

Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee.

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now to be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it,

follow me.

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, begging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excel-you come: who you are, and what you would, are lent devil of wit! out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the [Exeunt. word is over-worn. [Exit. 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;

Sir And. I'll make one too.

ACT III.

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

Clown with a tabor.

Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music: thou live by thy tabor?

Clo. No, sir, I live by the church.

Vio. Art thou a churchman?

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

Dost For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;

Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies? by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.

But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.

Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague-
cheek.

Sir To. Save you, gentleman.
Vio. And you, sir.

Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi : votre servileur.

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; How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!

Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton.

Clo. I would therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.

Vio. Why, man?

Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton: But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them.

Vio. Thy reason, man?

Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.

A boy's diversion three and tip.
(3) Kid,

to her.

Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list 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.

I

Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance:
But we are prevented.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours! well,

(4) See the play of Troilus and Cressida.
(5) A hawk not well trained, (6) Bound, limit,

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.
Vio. 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, Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf:

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 smile
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?

[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.
Vio.

Then westward-hoe:

Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Oli. Stay:

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.
Vio. 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. In spite of.

I

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

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.

I

Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may'st

move

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Room in Olivia's house, Enter
Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and
Fabian.

Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy rea

son.

Fab. You must need yield your reason, sir Andrew.

Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more fa vours to the count's serving-man, than ever she bestowed upon me; I saw'ti' the orchard.

Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy?

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.

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your 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 oppor tunity 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.

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 chal lenge to him?

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

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