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Scene I.-An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians attending.

Duke. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it ; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ;—it had a dying fall : 0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.—Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou ! That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,

Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute ! so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high-fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?
Duke. What, Curio?

The hart.
Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
0, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turned into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E’er since pursue me.—How now? what news

from her ?

Enter Valentine. Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer : The element itself, till seven years heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view; But, like a cloistress, she will veiléd walk, And water once a-day her chamber round With eye-offending brine : all this to season A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance.

Duke. 0, she that hath a heart of that fine frame Το pay

this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love when the rich golden shaft Hath killed the flock of all affections else That live in her! when liver, brain and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and filled (Her sweet perfections) with one self king ! Away before me to sweet beds of flowers; Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.


Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him: He was a bachelor then.

Cap. And so is now, or was so very late : For but a month ago I went from hence; And then 't was fresh in murmur (as, you know, What great ones do, the less will prattle of) That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's she?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving

In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died : for whose dear love,
They say, she hath abjured the company
And sight of men.

Vio O, that I served that lady:
And might not be delivered to the world
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is.
Сар. .

That were hard to compass,
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character. I pray thee, and I 'll pay thee bounteously, Conceal me what I am, and be my aid For such disguise as haply shall become The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke; Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him;

be worth thy pains; for I can sing, And speak to him in many sorts of music, That will allow me very worth his service. What else may hap, to time I will commit; Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be; When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see!

Vio. I thank thee; lead me on.

Scene II.-The Sea-coast.

Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors. Vio. What country, friends, is this? Сар. . Illyria, lady.

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria ? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drowned :—What think you,

sailors? Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were

saved. Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance,

It may

may he be.


Scene III.-A Room in Olivia's house.

Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort


with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and that


number saved with you, Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) To a strong mast that lived upon the sea ; Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, So long as I could see.

Vio For saying so, there's gold; Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born Not three hours' travel from this very place.

Vio. Who governs here?

Сар. . A noble duke in nature,
As in his name.

What is his name?
Сар. .


Enter Sir Toby Belch and MARIA. Sir Toby. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o’ nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir Toby. Why, let her except before excepted.

Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

Sir Toby. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am; these clothes are good enough to drink

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Sir Toby. By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so of him. Who are they?

Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

Sir Toby. With drinking healths to my niece; I 'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a coward and a coystril that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now,

Sir Toby Belch?

Sir Toby. Sweet Sir Andrew!
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.
Mar. And you too, sir.
Sir Toby. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
Sir And. What's that.
Sir Toby. My niece's chambermaid.

Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.

Mar. My name is Mary, sir.
Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost,-

Sir Toby. You mistake, knight; accost is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her.

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost?

Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.

Sir Toby. An' thou let part so, Sir Andrew, 'would thou mightst never draw sword again.

Sir And. An' you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand ?

Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand.

Sir And. Marry, but you shall have: and here's my hand.

Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink.

Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your metaphor ?

Mar. It's dry, sir.

Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?

Mar. A dry jest, sir.
Sir And. Are you full of them?

Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren.

[Exit Maria. Sir Toby. O knight, thou lack'sta cup of canary: When did I see thee so put down?

Sir And. Never in your life, I think: unless you see canary put me down: Methinks, sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.

Sir Toby. No question.

Sir And. An' I thought that, I'd forswear it. I 'll ride home to-morrow,

Sir Toby.
Sir Toby. Pourquoy, my dear knight!

Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting: 0, had I but followed the arts !

Sir Toby. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?

Sir Toby. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature.

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

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

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

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

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether.

Sir Toby. Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight?

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.

Sir Toby. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
Sir Toby. And I can cut the mutton to 't.

Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

Sir Toby. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig! I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, 't is strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels ?

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

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