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Enter Fenton and ANNE PAGE. In love, the heavens themselves do guide the How now, master Fenton?

state; Anne. Pardon, goud father! good my mo. Money buys lands,and wives are sold by fate. ther, pardon!

Fat. I am glad, though you have ta'en a Page. Now, mistress? how chance you special stand to strike at me, that your arrow went not with master Slender?

hath glanced.

*(give thee joy! * Mrs. Page. Why went you not with mag- Page. Well, what remedy? Penton, heaven ter doctor, maid?

What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd. Fent. You do amaze her: Hear the truth Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer of it.

are chas'd. You would have married her most shamefully, Eva. 1 will dance and eat plums at your Where there was no proportion held in love. wedding. The truth is, Ske and I, long since contracted, Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further :Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us.

Master Fenton, The offence is holy, that she hath committed : Heaven give you many, many merry days! And this deceit loses the name of craft, Good husband, let us every one go home, Of disobedience, or unduteous title ;

And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire ; Since therein she doth evitatet and shon Sir John and all. A thousand irreligious cursed hours, [apon her. Ford. Let it be 80 :- Sir John, Which forced marriage would have brought Tomaster Brook you yet shall hold your word; Ford. Stand not amaz'd: here is no re. For he, to night, shall lie with Mrs. Ford. medy :

[Exeunt.

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of this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr. Rowe, that it was written at the command of queen Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the character of Falstaff, that she wished it to be diffused through more plays; but suspecting that it might pall by continued uniformity, directed the poet to diversify his manner, by shewing him in love. No task is harder than that of writing to the ideas of another. Shakspeare knew what the queen, if the story be true, seems not to have known, that by any real passion of tenderness, the selfish craft, the careless jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstaff must have suffered so much abatement, that little of his former cast would have remained. Falstaff could not love, but by ceasing to be Falstaff. He conld only connterfeit love,

and his professions could be prompted, not by the hope of pleasure, bnt of money. Thus the poet approached as near as he could to the work enjoined him; yet having perhaps in the former plays completed his own idea, seems not to have been able to give Falstaff all his former power of entertainment.

This comedy is remarkable for the variety and number of the personages, wbo exhibit mort characters appropriated and discriminated, than perhaps can be found in any other play.

Whether Shakspeare was the first that produced upon the English stage the effect of language distorted

and depraved by provincial or foreign pronunciation, I cannot certainly cide. This mode of forming ridiculous characters can confer praise only on him who originally discovered it, for it requires not much of either wit or judgment; ils sncces must be derived almost wholly from the player, but its power in a skilful mouthi,'even bu that despises it, is unable to resist.

The conduct of this drama is deficient; the action begins and ends often, before the con clusion, and the different parts might change places without inconvenience; but its ge neral power, that power by which all works of genius shall finally be tried, is such, tha perhaps it never yet had reader or spectator who did not think it too soon at the end.JOHNSON.

OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

Persons represented. ORSINO, duke of Illyria.

Sir Toby Belch, uncle of Olivia. SEBASTIAN, a young gentleman, brother Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. to Viola.

MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia. ANTONIO, a seu-captain, friend to Se- FABIAN, Servants to Olivia. bastian.

CLOWN,}
A sea-captain, friend to Viola.

OLIVIA, a rich Countess.
VALENTINE, Gentlemen attending on the VIOLA, in love with the Duke.
CURIO,
Duke.

MARIA, Olivia's woman.
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants.

Sçene,-a city in Ilyria; and the seu-coast near it.

ACT I. SCENE I. An Apartment in the Duke's How will she love, when the rich golden shaft, Palace.

Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else Enter DUKE, CURIO, Lords; Musicians That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart, attending

These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and Duke. If musick be the food of love, play on, fillid, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,

(Her sweet perfections, with one self king!-The appetite may sicken, and so die. Away before me to sweet beds of flowers; That strain again ;-it had a dying fall : Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with 0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,

bowers.

(Exeunt. That breathes upon a bank of violets, (more;

SCENE II. The Sea-coast. Stealing, and giving odour.- Enough ; no 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.

Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors. O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!

Vio. What country, friends, is this? Thai notwithstanding thy capacity

Cap.

Illyria, lady. Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? Of what validity * and pitch soever,

My brother he is in Elysium. (you, sailora? But falls into abatement and low price, Perchance, he is not drown'd : What think Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were That it alone is high-fantastical t.

saved.

(may be be. Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?

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

What, Curio?

Cap. True, madam; and, to comfort you with Cur.

The hart.

chance, Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: Assure yourself, after our ship did split, [you, 0, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,

When you, and that pour number saved with Methought, she parg'd the air of pestilence; Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, That instant was I turn'd into a hart; Most provident in peril, bind bimself (practice) And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,

(Courage and hope both teaching him the E'er siuce purse me.-How now? what news To a strong mast, that lived upou the sea; from her ?

Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, Enter VALENTINE.

I saw him hold acquaintance with tbe waves, Vab. So please my lord, I might not be so long as I could see. admitted,

Vio.

For saying so, there's gold: But from her handmaid do return this answer: Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, The element itself, till seven years heat i, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, Shall not behold her face at ample view; The like of him. Know'st thou this country? But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and And water once a day her chamber round

born, With eye-offending brine: all this, to season Not three hours' travel from this very place. A brother's dead love, which she would keep Vio. Who goyerus here? And lasting, in her sad remembrance. [fresh, Cap.

A noble duke, in nature, Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine As in his name. To pay this debt of love but to a brother, [frame, Vio.

What is his name? • Value. · + Fantastical to the height.

Heated. н

$

Cap. .

Orsino. Mar. Ay, he. Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name Sir To. He's as tallt a man as any's in He was a bachelor then.

shim : Illyria. Сар. And so is now,

Mur. What's that to the purpose ? Or was so very late : for but a month

Sir To. Why, he has three thousand dacats Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh a year. In marmur, (as, you know, what great ones do, Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all The less will prattle of,) that he did seek these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. The love of fair Olivia.

Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' Vio

What's she?

the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a languages word for word without book, and count

[leaving her bath all the good gifts of nature. That died some twelvemonth since; then Mar. He hath, indeed, -almost natural: for, In the protection of his son, her brother, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to Tbey say, she hath abjur'd the company allay the gast he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought And sight of men.

among the prudent, he would quickly have Vio.

O, that I served that lady: the gift of a grave. And might not be delivered to the world, Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels Till I had made mine own occasion inellow, and substractors that say so of him. Who are What my estate is.

they?" Cap.

That were hard to compass; Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk Because she will admit no kind of suit, nightly in your company: No, not the duke's.

Sir To, With drinking healths to my niece Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee,captain; I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage And thongh that nature with a beauteous wall in my throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee coward, and a coystril 1, that will not drink to I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits my niece, till his brains turn o'the toe like a With this thy fair and outward character. parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face. Conceal me what I am; and be my aid For such disguise as, haply, shall become

Énter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.. The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke; Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir It inay be worth thy pains; for I can sing, Toby Belch? And speak to him in many sorts of 'musick,

Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew!
That will allow * me very worth his service. Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;

Mar. And you too, sir.
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost.
Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute

Sir And. What's that?
I'll be :

Sir To. My niece's chamber maid.
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes

Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire Vio. I thank thee: Lead me on. [Exeunt. better acquaintance.

Mur. My name is Mary, sir. SCENE III. A Room in Olivia's House. Sir Arid. Good Mistress Mary Accost,

Sir To. You, mistake, knight: accost is Enter Sir TOBY BELch and MARIA.

front her, board her, woo her, assail her. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to Sir And. By my troth, I would not under take the death of her brother thus? I am take her in this company. Is that the mean sure, care's an enemy to life.

ing of accost ? Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. in earlier o’nights; your cousin, my lady, takes Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew great exceptions to your ill hours.

'would thou might'st never draw sword again Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would

Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself ! might never draw sword again. Fair lady within the modest liinits of order.

do you think you have fools in hand ? Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no : Mur. Sir, I have not you by the band. finer than I am: these clothes are good enough Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they here's my hand. be not, let them hang themselves in their own Mar. Now, sir, thought is free : I pray you straps.

bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let i Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo drink. you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; Sir And. Wherefore, sweet-hear't? what' and of a foolish knight, that you brought in your metaphor one night here, to be her wooer.

Mar. It's dry, sir.
Sir To. Whó? Sir Audrew Ague-cheek! Sir And. Why, I think so ;

I am not suck * Approve. + Stout. 1 Keystiil, a bastard bawk."

(not see!

my hair?

an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But stitution of thy leg, it was formed under the what's your jest?

star of a galliard. Mar. A dry jest, sir.

Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indif. Sir And. Are you full of them?

ferent well in a flame-coloured stockt. Shall Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' we set about some revels ? ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am Sir To. What shall we do else? were we barren.

{Erit MARIA. not born under Taurus ? Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of ca. Sir And, Taurus ? that's sides and heart. nary: When did I see thee so put down? Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let

Sir And. Never in your life, I think; un me see thee caper: ha! higher : ha, ha!-exless you see canary put me down : Methinks, cellent!

[Ereunt. sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian,

SCENE IV. or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does hard to my A Room in the Duke's Palace. wit. Sir To. No question.

Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's

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

Val. If the duke continue these favours toSir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight? wards you, Cesario, you are like to be much

Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? advanced ; be hath known you but three days, I would l had bestowed that time in the and already you are no stranger. tongues, that I have in fencing, dancing, and

Vio. You either fear his humour or my neg. bear-baiting: 0, had I but followed the arts ! ligence, that you call in question the continu

Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent ance of bis love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his head of hair.

favours? Sir And. Why, would that have mended Val. No, believe me. Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will

Enter DUKE, CURIo, and Attendants. not curl by nature.

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, ike. Who saw Cesario, ho? does't not?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.–Cesario, distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd thee between her legs, and spin it off. To thee the book even of my secret soul :

Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Therefore, good youth, address thy gaitI unto Toby: your niece will not be seen; or, if she her; be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors, count himself, here hard by, wooes her. And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,

Sir To. She'll done of the count; she'll not Till thou have audience. match above her degree, neither in estate,

Vio.

Sure, my noble lord, years, nor wit; I have heard ber gwear it. If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow Tut, there's life in't, man.

As it is spoke, she never will admit me. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I bounds, delight in masques and revels sometimes alto. Rather than make onprofited return. gether.

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws,

What then? knight?

Duke. O, then anfold the passion of my love, Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith : he be, nnder the degree of my betters; and It shall become thee well to act my woes; yet I will not compare with an old man. She will attend it better in thy youth,

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspéct. knight?

Vio. I think not so, my lord. Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.

Duke,

Dear lad, believe it; Sir To. And I can cut the matton to't. For they shall yet belie thy happy years

Sir And. And, I think, I have the back- That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, wherefore have these gifts a curtain before And all is semblative a woman's part. them? are they like to take dust, like mistress I know, thy constellation is right apt Mall's pietare! why dost thou not go to church For this affair:-Soine four or five attend him; in a galliard, and coine home in a coranto? All, if you will; for I myself am best, My very walk should be a jig; I would not so When least in company:

--Prosper well in this, mach as make water, but in a sink-a.pace*. And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide To call his fortunes thine. virtues in! I did thjuk, by the excellent con

I'll do my best, • Cinque-pace, the name of a dance. 't Stocking

Go thy way.

Vio

To woo your lady: yet, [Aside.) a barful * patched with virtue: If that this simple syllostrife!

gism will serve, so; if it will not, what reWhoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. medy? As there is no true cnckold but cala

[Ereunt. mity, so beauty's a flower :—the lady bade

take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take SCENE V. A Room in Olivia's House.

her a way

Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
Enter Maria and Clown.

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree!-Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast Lady, Cucullus non fucit monachum; that's been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a as much as to say, I wear not motley in my bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove Tady will hang thee for thy absence.

you a fool. Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged Oli. Can you do it? in this world, needs to fear no colours.

Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna. Mar. Make that good.

Oli. Make your proof. Clo. He shall see none to fear.

Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna : Mar. A good lentent answer: I can tell Good my mouse of virtue, answer me. thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, colours,

I'll 'bide your proof. Cio. Where, good mistress Mary?

Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou? Mar. In the wars; and that may you be Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. Clo. Weil, God give them wisdom that have Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. it; and those that are fools, let them use their Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn talents.

for your brother's soul being in heaven. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so | Take away the fool, gentlemen. long absent: or, to be turned away; is not Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? that as good as a hanging to you?

doth he not mend? Clo. Many a good hanging prevens a bail Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of marriage; and, for turning away, let summer death shake him: Infirmity, that decays the bear it out.

wise, doth ever make the better fool. Mar. You are resolute then?

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby two points.

will be sworn, that I am no fox; but he will Mar. That, if one break I, the other will not pass his word for two-pence, that you are hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall. no fool.

Cló. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio 3 thy way, if sir Toby would leave drinking, Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as in such a barren rascat; I saw him pnt down any in Illyria.

the other day with an ordinary fool, that bas Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; no more brain than a stone.

jook you now, here comes my lady: make your excuse wise he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh ly, you were best.

(Exit. and minister occasion to him, he is gagged.

I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so Enter OLIVIA and MALVOLIO.

at these set kind of fools, no better than the Clo, Wit, and't be thy will, put me into fools' zanies ll. good fooling! Those wits that think they have Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, thee, do very oft prove fools ; and I, that am and taste with a distempered appetite. To be sare I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty to take those things for bird-bolts 1, that you fool than a foolish wit. God bless thee, lady ! deem cannon-bullets: There is no slander in Oli. Take the fool away.

an allowed fool, though he do nothing but Clo. Do you not hear, fellows ? Take away rail; nor no railing in a known discrect inan, the lady.

though he do nothing but reprove. Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more Clo, Now Mercury endue thee with leas. of you : besides, you grow dishonest.

ing **, for thou speakest well of fools ! Clo. Two faults, madonna ý, that drink and

Re-enter MARIA. good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he gentleman much desires to speak with you. is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the Oli. From the count Orsiuo, is it? botcher mend him: Any thing that's mended Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young is but patched : virtue that transgresses is but man, and well attended. patched with sin; and sin that amends is but oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Full of impediments.

+ Short and spare. # Points were hooks which fastened the hose or breeches. ☺ Italian, mistress, dame. || Fools' baubles.

Short arrows.

** Lying.

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