Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys. Cricket, to Windsor chimnies shalt thou leap: Where üres thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths unswept, There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry:* Our radiant queen hates sluts, and sluttery. Fal. They are fairies; he, that speaks to them, shall die: I'll wink and couch: No man their works must That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, But those as sleep, and think not on their sins, Pinch them, arms, legs, back, shoulders, sides, and shins. Quick. About, about; Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out: With juice of balm, and every precious flower: And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing, Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy! lest he transform me to a piece of cheese! Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o'er-look'd even in thy birth. Quick. With trial-fire touch me his fingerend: If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, Pist. A trial, come. Era. Come, will this wood take fire? sire! Pinch him, fairies, mutually; Pinch him for his villany; Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about, Till candles, and star-light, and moonshine be out During this song, the fairies pinch FALSTAFF. Doctor CAIUS comes one way, and steals away a fairy in green; SLENDER another way, and takes off a fairy in white; and FENTON comes, and steals away Mrs. ANNE PAGE. A noise of hunting is made within. All the fairies run away. FALSTAFF pulls off his buck's head, and rises. Enter PAGE, FORD, Mrs. PAGE, and Mrs. FORD, They lay hold on him. Page. Nay, do not fly: I think, we have watch'd you now; Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn? Mrs. Page. I pray you, come; hold up the jest no higher Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives? [yokes* See you these, husband? do not these fair Become the forest better than the town? Ford. Now, Sir, who's a cuckold now?Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns, master Brook: And, master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money; which must be paid to master Brook; his horses are arrested for it, master Brook. Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer. Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass. Ford. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are extant. Fal. And these are not fairies? I was three fairies: and yet the guiltiness of my mind, the or four times in the thought, they were not sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, be made a Jack-a-lent, when 'tis upon ill emthat they were fairies. See now, how wit may ployment. Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you. Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh. Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you. Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to woo her in good English. Ful. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and de-dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'er-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? Shall I have a coxcomb of frize?t 'tis time I were choked with a piece of About him fairies; sing a scornful rhyme: toasted cheese. Eva. Seese is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter. Fal. Seese and putter! Have I lived to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking, through the realm. Mrs. Page. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, that * Horns which Falstaff had. A fool's cap of Welsh materials. Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan? Page. And as poor as Job? Ford. And as wicked as his wife? Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose; turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married. Enter CAIUS. Caius. Vere is mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened; I ha' married un garçon, a boy; un gar, I am cozened. Eva. And given to fornications, and to ta-paisan, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page: by verns, and sack, and wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings, and starings, pribbles and prabbles? Fal. Well, I am your theme: you have the start of me; I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel; ignorance itself is plummet o'er me: use me as you will. Ford. Marry, Sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one master Brook, that you have cozened of money, to whom you should have been a pander: over and above that you have suffered, I think, to repay that money will be a biting affliction. Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make amends: Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends. Ford. Well, here's my hand; all's forgiven at last. Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house; where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee: Tell her, master Slender hath married her daughter. Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that: If Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Caius' wife. [Aside. Enter SLENDER. Slen. Whoo, ho! ho! father Page. Puge. Son! how now? how now, son? have you despatched? Slen. Despatched-I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know on't; would I were hanged, la, else. Page. Of what, son? Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy: If it had not been i' the church, I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy. Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong. Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl: If I had been married to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him. Page. Why, this is your own folly: Did not 1 tell you, how you should know my daughter by her garments? Slen. I went to her in white, and cried mum, and she cried budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a postmaster's boy. Eva. Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you see but marry boys? Page. O, I'am vexed at heart: What shall I do? Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green? Caius. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, I'll raise all Windsor. [Exit CAIUS. Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne? Page. My heart misgives me: Here comes master Fenton. give thee joy! What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac❜d. Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas'd. Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding. Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further :- Heaven give you many, many merry days! Ford. Let it be so:-Sir John, • Confound her by your questions. [Exeunt. + Avoid ACT I. SCENE I.-An Apartment in the DUKE'S Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; Musicians attending. But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, Duke. If music be the food of love, play on, To pay this debt of love but to a brother, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, more; Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? Cur. The hart. Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: 0, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me.-How now? what news from her? Enter VALENTINE. Val. So please my lord, I might not be ad- But from her handmaid do return this answer: How will she love, when the rich golden shaft, (Her sweet perfections,) with one self king! SCENE II.-The Sea Coast. Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? Perchance, he is not drown'd:-What think Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were saved. Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may he be. Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with Assure yourself, after our ship did split, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, So long as I could see. Vio. For saying so, there's gold: Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him. Know'st thou this country? Cap. Ay, Madam, well; for I was bred and born, Not three hours' travel from this very place. Vio. Who governs here? Cap. A noble duke, in nature, As in his name. Vio. What is his name? Cap. Orsino. Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name He was a bachelor then. Cap. And so is now, [him: Or was so very late: for but a month The love of fair Olivia. Vio. What's she? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer. Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? Sir To. He's as tall* a man as any's in Illyria. Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Mar. Aye, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. Mar. He hath, indeed,-almost natural : for, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave. Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? [ing her Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk That died some twelvemonth since; then leav-nightly in your company. In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died: for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjur'd the company And sight of men. Vio. O, that I served that lady : Cap. That were hard to compass; Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; And though that nature with a beauteous wall SCENE III-A Room in OLIVIA'S House. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and MARIA. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's an enemy to life. Mar. By troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo * Approve Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a coward and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face. Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch? Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. Sir And. What's that? Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, Sir. Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost, Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her. Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, 'would you might'st never draw sword again. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. Mar. Now, Sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore sweet heart? what's your metaphor ? Mar. It's dry, Sir. Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such aa ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mar. 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 ca- | wards you, Cesario, you are like to be muct nary: When did I see thee so put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless 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 advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. wit. Sir To. Excellent; it hang's 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: 7: 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. Tut, there's life in't, man. 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 altogether. 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? Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper. 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 picture? 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 constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock.† Shall we set about some revels? Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. Sir To. No, Sir; it is legs and thighs. Let The see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!-ex[Exeunt. cellent! SCENE IV.—A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire. Val. If the duke continue these favours to • Cinque-pace, the name of a dance. of Stocking. Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, Sir, in his favours? Val. No, believe me. Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants. Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul: Therefore, good youth, address thy gait* unto her; And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, Vio. Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow Rather than make unprofited return. Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; What then? Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, Vio. I'll do my best, 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 bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: m lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hange 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 co lours. |