Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

Vio.

'Sooth, but you must.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so; Must she not then be answer'd?
Duke. There is no woman's sides

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite,-
No motion of the liver, but the palate,-
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Vio.

Ay, but I know,

Duke. What dost thou know?

Vio. Too well what love women to men may

owe:

In faith they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your Lordship.
Duke.
And what's her history?
Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worin i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought;
And with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat, like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed ?
We men may say more, swear more; but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's
house,

And all the brothers too;-and yet I know not:-
Sir, shall I to this lady?
Duke.
Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste; give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.

SCENE V. Olivia's Garden.

[Exeunt.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek,

and Fabian.

Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir To. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame ?

Fab. 1 would exult, man: you know he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here.

Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue:Shall we not, Sir Andrew?

Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. Enter Maria.

Sir To. Here comes the little villain:-How now, my nettle of India?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide them selves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter;] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling [Exit Maria.

Enter Malvolio.

Sir To. Here's an overweening rogue! Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advanced plumes!

Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue :-
Sir To. Peace, I say.
I

Mal. To be count Malvolio;-
Sir To. Ah, rogue!

Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.
Sir To. Peace, peace!

Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !

Fab. O peace! now he's deeply in; look, how imagination blows him.

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,

Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!

Mal. Calling my officers about me in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping.

Sir To. Fire and brimstone !
Fab. O, peace, peace!

Mal. And then to have the humour of state: and after a demure travel of regard,-telling them I know my place, as I would they should do theirs,-to ask for my kinsman Toby: Sir To. Bolts and shackles !

Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him; I frown the while; and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me:

Sir To. Shall this fellow live?

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with 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 hav ing 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. What employment have we here?

[Taking up the letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very C'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, and 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.

Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me, she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. No man must know.-What follows? the numBesides, she uses me with a more exalted re-bers altered !-No man must know:-If this spect, than any one else that follows her. What should be thee, Malvolio?

should I think 'on't?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock!

Mal. I may command, where I adore:

But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore;
M, O, A, 1, doth sway my life.

Fab. A fustian riddle !

Sir To. Excellent wench, say 1. 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 hath 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 name.

Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.

Mal. M, But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but does.

Fab. And O'shall end, I hope.

I will smile; I will do every thing that thou wilt have me.

[Exit. Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device.

Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest.

Enter Maria.
Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fab Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
Sir And. Or o' mine either?
and become thy bond-slave?
Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip,

Sir And. I' faith, or 1 either?
dream, that, when the image of it leaves him,
Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a
he must run mad.

Mar. Nay, but say true: does it work upon him?,

Sir To. Like aqua-vite with a midwife. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady; 'he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposi

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him tion, being addicted to a melancholy as she is,

cry, O.

Mal. And then I comes behind.

Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than

fortunes before you.

Mal. M, U, A, I:-This simulation is not as the former-and yet, to crush this a little,' it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft; here follows prose.f not afraid my great this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars ness: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee,

The fortunate-unhappy. Day-light and champain discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politick authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice, the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. 1 will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised!-Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee. Jove, 1 thank thee.

|

that it cannot but turn him into a notable con-
tempt: if you will see it, follow me.
Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most ex-
cellent devil of wit!

Sir And. I'll make one too.

[blocks in formation]

[Exeunt.

Enter Viola, and Clown, with a tabor. Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy musick: Dost thou live by thy tabor?

Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. Vio. Art thou a churchman? Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church; for 1 do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church,

Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age !-A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!

Vio. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them

wanton.

name, sir.
Clo. I would, therefore, my sister had had no
Vio. Why, man?

Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton: But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them.

Vio. Thy reason, man? Clo. Troth, sir, 1 can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.

Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.

Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you: it that he to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool? Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly she will keep no fool, sir, till she be

married; and fools are as like husbands, as pil. chards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's.

Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun: it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.

Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee. Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick for one: though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. 1 will construe to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might say, eleinent; but the word is over-worn. [Exit. Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool;

And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;
And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art:
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague-
cheek.

Sir To. Save you, gentleman.
Vio. And you, sir.

Sir And Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.
Sir And. I hope sir, you are; and I am yours.
Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my
niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade

be to her.

Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage.

Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.

Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

Sir To. I mean to go, sir, to enter.

Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are prevented.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours! well.

Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed. I'll get 'em all three ready.

Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours;

Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,

'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!

Vio. Madam, 1 come to whet your gentle
thoughts
On his behalf :-

Oli.
O, by your leave, I pray you :
I bade you never speak again of him:
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that,
Than musick from the spheres.
Vio.
Dear lady,
Oli. Give me leave, 'beseech you: I did send
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you;
Under your hard construction must I sit,"
To force that on you, in a shameful cunuing,
Which you knew none of yours: What might
you think?

Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous beart can think? To one of
your receiving

Enough is shown; a cypress, not a bosom,
Hides my heart: So let me hear you speak
Vio. I pity you.

Oli. That's a degree to love.

Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis tune to smil
again;

O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion, than the wolf?

[Clock strikes.
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.--
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due west.

Vio.

Then westward-hoe: Grace and good disposition 'tend your ladyship! You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me ? Oli. Stay:

I

[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, sir. Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble ser-I vice.

Oli. What is your are?

Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair prin

cess.

Oli. My servant, sir? 'Twas never merry
world,

Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment;
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.

pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. Vio. That you do think, you are not what yon

are.

Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you.
Vio. Then think you right; I am not what 1

am.

Oli. I would you were as I would have you be!
Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am,
I wish it might; for now I am your fool.
Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is

noon.

Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
love thee so, that, maug. all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause :
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter!
Love sought is good, but given unsought, in
better.

Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Jail mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam; never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Oli. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps,
may'st move

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
[Exeunt.

[blocks in formation]

Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed upon me: I saw 'ti' the orchard. Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy tell me that.

Sir And. As plain as I see you now.

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the| oaths of judgment and reason.

Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, since before Noah was a sailor.

for there is no Christian, that means to be saved

by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.

Sir To. And cross-gartered?

Mar. Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church.-I have dogged him, like his murderer: He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines, than are in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 'tis ; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. i know, my lady will strike him; if she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour.

Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is [Exeunt

SCENE III. A Street.

Enter Antonio and Sebastian. Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you;

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your I will no further chide you. dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire, brimstone in your liver: You should then have More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; accosted her; and with some excellent jests, And not all love to see you, (though so much fire-new from the mint, you should have bang. As night have drawn one to a longer voyage,) ed the youth into dumbness. This was looked But jealousy what might befull your travel, for at your hand, and this was baulked the Being skilless in these parts;which. to a stranger, double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash Unguided and unfriended, often prove off, and you are now sailed into the north of my Rough and unhospitable: My willing love, lady's opinion; where you will hang like an The rather by these arguments of fear, icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do re-Set forth in your pursuit. deem it by some laudable attempt, either of va'our, or policy.

Sir And. And 't be any way, it must be with valour for policy hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician.

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him? hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman, than report of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with the license of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, se t'em down; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with goose-pen, no matter: About it.

Sir And. Where shall I find you? Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: Go. [Exit Sir Andrew. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; some two thousand strong, or so.

Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver it.

Sir To. Never trust me then! and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

Enter Maria.

Sir To. Look where the youngest wren of nine comes.

Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stiches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado;|

Seb.

My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make, but, thanks,
And thanks, and ever thanks: Often good! turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
But, were my worth, as is my conscience firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?
Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your
lodging.

Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night:
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame,
That do renown this city.
Ant.
'Would, you'd pardon me :
I do not without danger walk these streets:
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys,
I did some service; of such note, indeed,
That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be an-
swer'd.

Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his
people.

Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature;
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel,
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
What we took from them; which, for traffick's
sake,

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

SCENE IV. Olivia's Garden.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Oli. I have sent after him: He says he'll come: How shall I feast him? what bestow on him? For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borrow'd.

I speak too loud.

Where is Malvolio 7-he is sad, and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes;-And, when she went away now, Let this fellow
Where is Malvolio?

Mar. He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam.

Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave? Mar. No, madam, he does nothing but smile your ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if he come; for sure, the man is tainted in his wits.

Oli. Go call him hither.-I'm as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.-
Enter Malvolio.

How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho. [Smiles fantastically.
Oh. Smil'st thou ?

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

for she incites me to that in the letter. Cast thy humble slough, says she; be opposite with a kinswith arguments of state,-put thyself into the man, surly with servants,-let thy tongue tang trick of singularity;-and, consequently, sets down the manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! be looked to: Fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing adscruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous heres together; that no dram of a scruple, no or unsafe circumstance,-What can be said? Nothing that can be, can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby Belch and Fabian.

sanctity? If all the devils in hell be drawn in Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: This does Fab. Here he is, here he is :-How is't with I'll speak to him. make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-you, sir? how is't with you, man? gartering: But what of that, if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one, and please all.

Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?

Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs: It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. I think, we do know

the sweet Roman hand.

Oli Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Mal. To bed? ay, sweet-heart; and I'll come

to thee.

Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft? Mar. How do you, Malvolio? Mai. At your request? Yes: Nightingales answer daws.

Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatness :-'Twas

well writ.

Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
Mal. Some are born great,-

Oli. Ha?

Mal. Some achieve greatness,-
Oli. What say'st thou ?

Mal. And some have greatness thrust upon them.

Oli. Heaven restore thee!

Mal. Go off: I discard you; let me enjoy my private: go off.

him! did not I tell you ?-Sir Toby, my lady Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within Prays you to have a care of him.

Mal. Ah, ha! does she so ?

deal gently with him; let me alone. How do
Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must
you, Malvolio? how is't with you? What,
to mankind.
man! defy the devil; consider, he's an enemy

Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil,
Mal. Do you know what you say?
how he takes it at heart! 'Pray God, he be not
bewitched!

Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman. morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow for more than I'll say.

Mal. How now, mistress?
Mar. O lord!

Sir To. 'P'ythee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: Do you not see, you move him; let me alone with him.

Fab. No way but gentleness gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock? how dost thou, chuck?

Mal. Sir?

Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow Sir To. Ay, biddy come with me. What, man! stockings ;

Oli. Thy yellow stockings ?

Mal. And wished to see thee cross-gartered.

Oli. Cross-gartet ed?

'Mal. Go to; thou art made if thou desirest to be so ;

Oli. Am I made?

Mal. If not, let me see thee a servant still.
Oli. Why, this is very midsummer madness.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the count Orsino's is returned; I could hardly entreat him back he attends your ladyship's pleasure.

Oli. I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry.

[Exeunt Olivia and Maria. Mal. Oh, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me 7 This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him

;

[blocks in formation]

Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, could condemn it as an improbable fiction. Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, mar.. Mar. Nay, pursue him now: lest the device take air, and taint.

Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed. Mar. The house will be the quieter. Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, and Found. My niece is already in the belief that he is mad; we may carry it thus, for our pleasure, and his penance, till our very pastime. tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on

« ZurückWeiter »