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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:
O, 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?

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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 veiled 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. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame To 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;

Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Sea-Coast.

Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.

Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Cap.
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, may he be.

Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,

you,

poor

Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When 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?

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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;
It may 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-A Room in OLIVIA'S House. 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 herself 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 in, and so be these boots to! an' they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.

Sir Toby. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
Mar. Ay, he.

Sir Toby. He's as tall a man as any 's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to the purpose?

Sir Toby. Why, he has three thousand ducats

a-year.

Mar. Ay; but he 'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool and a prodigal.

Sir Toby. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

Mar. He hath, indeed,-almost natural: for, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 't is thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

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.

Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK.

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?

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dinary 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: O, 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, woos 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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