an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mur. 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 To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see thee so put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; un less 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 To. No question. Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, sir Toby, Sir To. 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 To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Sir To. 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 To. 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. Tat, there's life in't, man t 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 alto. gether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, 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 To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? •fir Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper. Sir To. 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 To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's pictures 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 con stitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. Sir And. Aytis strong, and it does indir. ferent well in a flame-coloured stockt. Shall we set about some revels? Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? Sir And. Taurus? that's Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let and low 1 SCENE IV. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOL▲ in man's attire. F Val. If the duke continue these favours to wards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. Vio. You either fear his humour or my neg ligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me. Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors, 3 Sure, my noble lord, Rather than make unprofited return. Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, • Cinque-pace, the name of a dance.c† Stocking. 1501 attend him E I'll do my best, Go thy way. To woo your lady: yet, [Aside.] a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Exeunt. SCENE V. A Room in Olivia's House. Enter MARIA and Clown. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world, needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good. Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. A good lentent answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent: or, to be turned away; is not that as good as a hanging to you?" Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. Mar. You are resolute then? Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points. Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall. Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. [Exit. patched with virtue: If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower:-the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree!Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool..... Oli. Can you do it? Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna. Oli. Make your proof. 1 Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna: Good my mouse of virtue, answer me. Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 'bide your proof. Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou? Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven,Take away the fool, gentlemen. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?" Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two-pence, that you are no fool. Oll. How say you to that, Malvólio ? Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wise-he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh ly, you were best.. and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies. Enter OLIVIA and MALVOLIO. Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. God bless thee, lady! Oli. Take the fool away. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Two faults, madonna ý, that drink and good counsel will amend for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: Any thing that's mended is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but Full of impediments. Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leas ing **, for thou speakest well of fools! Re-enter MARIA. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you. Oli. From the count: Orsino, is it? Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair man, and well attended! young Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Points were hooks which fastened the hose or breeches. Short and spare. Italian, mistress, dame. * 158 9.3** Lying, ' Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman; on him! Exit MARIA] Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit MALVOLIO.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most weak pia mater *. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH. Oll. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he at the gate, cousin? Sir To. A gentleman. Oli. A gentleman! What gentleman? Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: There's one at the gate. Oli, Ay, marry; what is he? Sir To. Let him be the devil care not: give me faith, say I, one. an he will, I Well, it's all [Exit. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drown'd: go, look after him. Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown. Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? it Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your will?o u ler nå Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty,I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comp. tible t, even to the least sinister usage of t Oli. Whence came you, sir? Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my parts Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech... Oli. Are you a comedian? Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of my message. Tyve Oli. Come to what is important in't: I for give you the praise. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. Mal. Madam, yond' young fellow swears he will speak with you, I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I comes to speak with you. What is to be said pray you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. at my gates; and allowed your approach, ra Oli, Tell him, he shall not speak with me.ther to wonder at you than to hear you. If Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak to make one in so skipping a dialogue.. with you. Oli. What kind of man is he? Oli. What manner of man? Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you, or no. Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber; I am to bull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giantį, sweet lady, Oli. Tell me your mind, ho Vio, I am a messenger, Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. Oli, Of what personage and years is he? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him e'en standing water, Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring between boy and man. He is very well-fa- no overture of war, no taxation of homage; • The cover of the brain. + Accountable. It appears from several parts of this play, that the original actress of Maria was very short. I hold the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace as matter. Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you ? out 19 And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, Vio. The rudeness that hath appear'd in me, have I learn'd from my entertainment: What I am, and what I would, are as secret as mai-I denbead: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, Oli. profanation. Oli. Give us the place alone, we will hear this divinity. [Exit MARIA.} Now, sir, what is your text? Vio. Most sweet lady,— Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? .. Vio. In Orsino's bosom, o 1 Oli. In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom? 5.91 . Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart? 1. Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say?' Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. - Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, and shew you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present: Is't not well done?!!~ [Unveiling. Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. Vio Tis beauty truly blentt, whose red 101 and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: If you will lead these graces to the grave, Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: It shall be inventoried and every particle and utensil, labelled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to 'praise me? 1 Vio. I see you what you are you are too Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night; Holla your name to the reverberate || hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me. [parentage? Oli. You might do much: What is your Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is I am a gentleman. [well! Oli. Get you to your lord; I cannot love him: let him send no more; Unless, perchance, you come to me again, To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. Vio. I am no fee'd post,T,' lady; keep your purse; Chga My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love, And let your fervour, like my master's, be Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit. ་་ ་་ spirit, 1 t Oli. What is your parentage? Above my fortunes, yet my state is well Lam a gentleman. I'll be swornthou art; Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and [fast:-soft! soft!! Do give thee five-fold blazon **:-Not too Unless the master were the man. How now? Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections, With an invisible and subtle stealth, To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.— What, ho, Malvolio!→→→ Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. Here, madam, at your service. bioli. Run after that same peevish messenger, The county's man: he left this ring behind him, Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his lord, Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. Mal. Madam, I will. De O [Exit. Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, shew thy force: Ourselves we do not tBlended, mixed together. Messenger. #Own, possess. 7 1 ACT II. SCENE I. The Sea coast.i.vič Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine are bound. Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know, you have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so ended. but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned. 195 Ant. Alas, the day! Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not, with such estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though seem to drown her remembrance again with more. Ant. Pardon me,sir,your bad entertainment. trouble. Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him wh whom you have recovered, desire it not. Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. Mal. She returns this ring to yon sir; you might have saved me my pains, to have taken you should put your lord into a desperate as it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that surance she will none of him : And one thing again in his affairs, unless it be to report your more; that you be never so hardy to come lord's taking of this. Receive it so Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your her; and her will is, it should be so returned: eye; if not, be it his that finds it. ox {Exits Vio. I left no ring with her: What means I Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd Fare ye well at once: Enter Sir Tom in Olivia's House. my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet [Exit. Enter VIOLA MALVOLIO following. Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia ?ydi desit qui sub 12 BELCH, and Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. a bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be and diluculo surgere, thou know'st,es i but I know, to be up late, is to be updates Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfilled can: To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after inidnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements 1 Sir And Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.-Marian, I say!—a stoop of M winebriał t Judo eurot view in deta * Reveal † Dexterous, ready fiende, Fair deceiver of Suitzipa ri I |