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an ass.

Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Duke. Who was it? Puritan.

Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the Sir And. O! if I thought that, I'd beat him like lady Olivia's father took much delight in. He is a dog.

about the house. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan! thy exquisite Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. reason, dear knight!

[Erit Curio.—Music. Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love, have reason good enough.

In the sweet pangs of it remember me; Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing For such as I am all true lovers are : 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 swaths: the best persuaded of himself; so crammed, That is belov'd.—How dost thou like this tune! as he thinks, with excellences, that it is his ground Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat of faith, that all that look on him love him; and on Where Love is thron'd. that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause Duke.

Thou dost speak masterly. to work.

My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Sir To. What wilt thou do?

Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves; Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles Hath it not, boy? of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the Vio.

A little, by your favour. shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expres Duke. What kind of woman is't? sure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall Vio

Of your complexion. find himself most feelingly personated. I can write Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter

i' faith? we can hardly make distinction of our hands.

Vio. About your years, my lord. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device.

Duke. Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman Sir And. I have't in my nose too.

take 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.

For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, colour.

More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Sir And. And your horse, now, would make him Than women's are.


I think it well, my lord. Mar. Ass I doubt not.

Duke. Then, let thy love be younger than thyself, Sir And. O! 'twill be admirable.

Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my For women are as roses, whose fair flower, physic will work with him. I will plant you two, Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. and let the fool make a third, where he shall find Vio. And so they are: alas! that they are so; 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.


Re-enter Curio, and Cloun. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea.

Duke. O, fellow! come, the song we had last Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.

night.Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that Mark it, Cesario ; it is old, and plain : adores me : what o' that?

The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, Sir And. I was adored once too.

And the free maids, that weave their thread with Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.—Thou hadst need bones, send for more money.

Do use to chaunt it: it is silly sooth, Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a And dallies with the innocence of love, foul way out.

Like the old age. Sir To. Send for money, knight: if thou hast Clo. Are you ready, sir ? her not i' the end, call me cut.

Duke. Ay; pr’ythee, sing.

[Music. Sir And. If I do not, never trust me; take it how you will.

THE SONG. Sir To. Coine, come : I'll go burn some sack, 'tis

Clo. Come away, come away, death, too late to go to bed now. Come, knight; come, And in sad cypress let me be laid; knight.

Fly away, fly away, breath ;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
SCENE IV.-A Room in the Duke's Palace.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yeu,
Enter DUKE, Viola, Curio, and others.

0! prepare it:

My part of death no one so true Duke. Give me some music.—Now, good mor

Did share it. row, friends.Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,

Not a flower, not a flower sweet, That old and antique song, we heard last night;

On my black coffin let there be stron ; Methought, it did relieve my passion much,

Noi a friend, not a friend greet More than light airs, and recollected terms,

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :

A thousand thousand sighs to sare, Come ; but one verse.

Lay me, 0! where
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that Sad true lover never find my grave,
should sing it.




Duke. There's for thy pains.

Fab. Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this Clo. No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir. sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one niggardly, rascally sheep-biter come by some notime or another.

table shame ? Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

Fab. I would exult, man : you know, he brought Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee, and me out o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, here. for thy mind is a very opal!—I would have men of Sir To. To anger him we'll have the bear again, such constancy put to sea, that their business might and we will fool him black and blue ;-shall we not, be every thing, and their intent every where; for sir Andrew ? that's it, that always makes a good voyage of no Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. thing.–Farewell.

[Erit Clown. Duke. Let all the rest give place.- [E.reunt Cu

Enter MARIA.
Rio and Attendants.]—Once more, Cesario,

Sir To. Here comes the little villain.—How now,
Get thee to yond' same sovereign cruelty :
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,

my metal of India ?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree. MalvoPrizes not quantity of dirty lands: The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,

lio's coming down this walk : he has been yonder i? Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;

the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this But 'tis that miracle, and

half hour. Observe him, for the love of mockery ; queen of gems, That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.

for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir ?

idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting !--[ The Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.

men hide themselves.]-Lie thou there;-[ Throws Vio.

Sooth, but you must.

down a letter. ]—for here comes the trout that must be

caught with tickling. Say, that some lady, as perhaps there is,

[Exit Maria. Hath for your love as great a pang of heart

Enter MalvolIO. As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her; You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd ? Mal. Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria Duke. There is no woman's sides

once told me, she did affect me; and I have heard Can bide the beating of so strong a passion

herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses So big to hold so much: they lack retention. me with a more exalted respect than any one else Alas! their love may be call'd appetite,

that follows her. What should I think on't? No motion of the liver, but the palate,

Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue ! That suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;

Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare But mine is all as hungry as the sea,

turkey-cock of him : how he jets under his advanced And can digest as much. Make no compare .plumes ! Between that love a woman can bear me,

Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue.And that I owe Olivia.

Sir To. Peace! I say.
Ay, but I know,

Mal. To be count Malvolio.-
Duke. What dost thou know?

Sir To. Ah, rogue !
Vio. Too well what love women to men niay owe: Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.

Sir To. Peace! peace!
My father had a daughter lov'd a man,

Mal. There is example fort: the lady of the As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,

Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. I should your lordship.

Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel! Duke.

And what's her history? Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in : look, how Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, imagination blows him. But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud,

Mal. Having been three months married to her, Feed on her damask cheek : she pind in thought : sitting in my state, — And, with a green and yellow melancholy,

Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! She sat like patience on a monument,

Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branchSmiliog at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? ed velvet gown, having come from a day-bed, where We men may say more, swear more; but, indeed, I have left Olivia sleeping :Our shows are more than will, for still we prove

Sir To. Fire and brimstone! Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Fab. O, peace! peace! Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Mal. And then to have the humour of state ; and

Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, after a demure travel of regard,—telling them, I And all the brothers too ; and yet I know not. know my place, as I would they should do theirs,— Sir, shall I to this lady?

to ask for my kinsman TobyDuke. Ay, that's the theme.

Sir To. Bolts and shackles ! To her in haste : give her this jewel; say,

Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. My love can give no place, bide no denay.

Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, [Exeunt. || make out for him. i frown the wbile ; and, per

chance, wind up my watch, or play with my-some Scene V.-Olivia's Garden.

rich jewel. Toby approaches; court’sies there to Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK,

Sir To. Shall this fellow live? and FABIAN.

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.

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 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.

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."

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

Mal. [Seeing the letter.] What employment have we here?

Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin.

Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal. [Taking up the letter.] By my life, this is my lady's hand! these be her very Č's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: Why that ?

Mal. [Reads.) “To the unknown beloved, this, avd my good wishes :" her very phrases !—By your leave, wax.—Soft !—and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To 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 number's altered." No man must know;"—if this should be thee, Malvolio?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock!
Mal. [Reads.]

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. 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 is no obstruction in this. And the end.—what should that alphabetical position portend ? if I 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


cry, O!

Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the junction drives me to these habits of her liking. I cur is excellent at faults.

thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, Mal. M.—But then there is no consonancy in the in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with sequel, that suffers under probation : A should fol- the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be low, but O does.

praised! here is yet a postscript.--[Reads.] --" Thou Fab. And O! shall end, I hope.

canst not choose but know who I am. If thou enterSir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him tainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling: thy

smiles become thee well; therefore in my presence Mal. And then I comes behind.

still smile, dear my sweet, I pr’ythee.”—Jove, I Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you thank thee. I will smile: I will do every thing that might see more detraction at your heels, than for thou wilt have me.

[Erit. tunes before you.

Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a Mal. M, Ó, A, I:—this simulation is not as the pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. former ;—and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Sir And. So could I too. Soft! here follows prose.- [Reads.]—“ If this fall Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above such another jest. thee; but be not afraid of greatness : some are born Sir And. Nor I neither. great, some achieve greatness, and some have great

Enter Maria. ness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to in Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. ure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck ? humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with Sir And. Or o' mine either ? a kinsman, surly with servants : let thy tongue tang Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, arguments of state : put thyself into the trick of and become thy bond-slave? singularity. She thus advises thee, that sighs for Sir And. I'faith, or I either thee. Remember who commended thy yellow Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: that when the image of it leaves him he must run I say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if thou mad. desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward Mar. Nay, but say true: does it work upon him? still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Sir To. Like aqua-vitæ with a midwife. fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, services with thee,

mark his first approach before my lady: he will The fortunate-unhappy." come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a colour she Day-light and champaign discovers not more: this abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, and he will smile upon her, which will now be so I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquain unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a tance, I will be point-device the very man. I do not melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him now fool myself, to let imagination jade me,

for every

into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late; she did Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excelpraise my leg being cross-gartered ; and in this she lent devil of wit ! manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of in Sir And. I'll make one too.



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rings, the husband's the bigger. I am, indeed, not Enter Viola, and Clown.

her fool, but her corrupter of words.

Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the thou live by thy tabor ?

sun: it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, Clo. No, sir; I live by the church.

but the fool should be as oft with your master, as Vio. Art thou a churchman ?

with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there. Clo. No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand with thee. Hold; there's expenses for thee. by the church.

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, send thee a beard. if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee: I am almost by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. sick for one, though I would not have it grow on

Clo. You have said, sir.—To see this age !-A my chin. Is thy lady within ? sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit : how Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir ! quickly the wrong side may be turned outward! Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use.

Vio. Nay, that's certain : they, that dally nicely Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir. with words, may quickly make them wanton. to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

Clo. I would therefore, my sister had had no Vio. I understand you, sir : 'tis well begg'd. name, sir.

Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging Vio. Why, man?

but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally within, sir. I will conster to them whence you with that word, might inake my sister wanton. come; who you are, and what you would, are out But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds of my welkin: I might say element, but the word disgraced them.

is overworn. Vio. Thy reason, man?

Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool, Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without And to do that well craves a kind of wit : words; and words are grown so false, I am loath He must observe their mood on whom he jests, to prove reason with them.

The quality of persons, and the time, Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest And, like the haggard, check at every feather for nothing.

That comes before his eye.

This is a practice Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in As full of labour as a wise man's art; my conscience, sir, I do not care for you : if that For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit, be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make But wise men's folly fail'n quite taints their wit. you invisible. Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool ?

Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir ANDREW Clo. No, indeed, sir ; the lady Olivia has no folly:

AGUE-CHEEK. she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and Sir To. Save you, gentleman. fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to her Vio. And you, sir.


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