Cries ah, ha! to the devil:

Like a mad lad,

Pare thy nails, dad,

Adieu, goodman devil.

SCENE III. Olivia's Garden.

Enter SEBASTIAN.

[Exit.

Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't:
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then?
I could not find him at the Elephant:

Yet there he was; and there I found this credit1,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
His counsel now might do me golden service:
For though my soul disputes well with my sense,
That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse2,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me
Το any other trust, but that I am mad,

Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so,

She could not sway her house, command her followers3,

Take, and give back affairs, and their despatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing, As, I perceive, she does: there's something in't, That is deceivable 4. But here the lady comes.

1 i. e. intelligence. Mr. Steevens has referred to several passages which seems to imply that this word was used for oral intelligence. I find it thus in a letter from Elizabeth to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton among the Conway Papers. This beror came from you with great spede-We have heard his credit and fynd your carefulness and diligence very great.' 4 i. e. deceptious.

2 i. e. reason.

3 Servants.

Enter OLIVIA and a Priest.

Oli. Blame not this haste of mine: If you mean well,

Now go with me, and with this holy man,
Into the chantry5 by: there, before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace: He shall conceal it,
Whiles 6
you are willing it shall come to note;
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth.-What do you say?
Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
Oli. Then lead the way, good father:-
heavens so shine,

you;

-And

That they may fairly note this act of mine! [Exeunt.

5

'Chantry,' a little chapel, or particular altar in some cathedral or parochial church, endowed for the purpose of having masses sung therein for the souls of the founders.

6 Until.

7 Troth or fidelity. It should be remarked that this was not an actual marriage, but a betrothing, affiancing, or solemn promise of future marriage; anciently distinguished by the name of espousals. This has been established by Mr. Douce in his very interesting Illustrations of Shakspeare, where the reader will find much curious matter on the subject, in a note on this passage.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The Street before Olivia's House.

Enter Clown and FABIAN.

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another request. Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.

Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again.

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, and Attendants.

Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends? Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. Duke. I know thee well: How dost thou, my good fellow?

Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.

Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.
Clo. No, sir, the worse.

Duke. How can that be?

Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives1, why, then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.

1 So, in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion :

Come let's kisse.

Moor. Away, away.

Queen. No, no, says I; and twice away says stay.

Sir Philip Sidney has enlarged upon the thought in the Sixty-third Stanza of Astrophel and Stella.

Duke. Why, this is excellent.

Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends.

: Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there's gold.

Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another.

Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.

Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double dealer; there's another.

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all; the triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of St. Bennet, sir, may put you in mind; One, two, three.

Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw if you will let your lady know, I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.

Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty, till I come again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think, that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness; but, as you say, sir, let your bounty I will awake it anon. [Exit Clown.

take a nap,

Enter ANTONIO and Officers.

Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
Duke. That face of his I do remember well;

Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war:
A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable:
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,

2 Mischievous, destructive.

That very envy, and the tongue of loss,

Cry'd fame and honour on him.-What's the matter? 1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio

That took the Phoenix and her fraught3, from Candy:
And this is he that did the Tiger board,

When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state1,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.

Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side;
But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me,
I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear5, Hast made thine enemies?

3 Freight.

4 Inattentive to his character or condition, like a desperate man. 5 Tooke has so admirably accounted for the application of the epithet dear by our ancient writers to any object which excites a sensation of hurt, pain, and consequently of anxiety, solicitude, care, earnestness, that I shall extract it as the best comment upon the apparently opposite uses of the word in our great poet. 'Dearth is the third person singular of the English (from the Anglo Saxon verb Deɲian, nocere, lædere), to dere. It means some or any season, weather, or other cause, which dereth, i. e. maketh dear, hurteth, or doth mischief.-The English verb to dere was formerly in common use.' He then produces about

twenty examples, the last from Hamlet :

'Would I had met my dearest foe in Heaven

Ere I had seen that day.'

Tooke continues-' Johnson and Malone, who trusted to their Latin to explain his (Shakspeare's) English, for deer and deerest would have us read dire and direst; not knowing that Dene and Depend meant hurt and hurting, mischief and mischievous; and that their Latin dirus is from our Anglo-Saxon Deɲe, which they would expunge.' EIEA ПITEPOENTA, Vol. ii. p. 409. A most pertinent illustration of Tooke's etymology has occurred to me in a MS poem by Richard Rolle the Hermit of Hampole: Bot flatering lele and loselry,

Is grete chepe in thair courtes namly,
The most derthe of any, that is

Aboute tham there, is sothfastnes.'-Spec. Vita.