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Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Save you, gentleman (13),
Vio. And you, Sir.

Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.

Vio. Et vous auffi; votre ferviteur.

Sir To. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.Will you encounter the house? my niece is defirous you fhould enter, if your trade be to her.

Vio. I am bound to your niece, Sir; I mean, she is the lift of my voyage.

Sir To Tafte your legs, Sir, put them to motion.

Vio. My legs do better understand me, Sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me tafte my legs. Sir To. I mean to go, Sir, to enter.

Vio. I will answer you with gate and entrance; but we are prevented.

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Moft excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heav'ns 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 vouchfafed :- -I'll get'em all three ready.

Oli. Let the garden door be fhut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria! Give me your hand, Sir.

Vio. My duty, Madam, and most humble service.

(12) Sir Tob. Save you, gentleman.
Vio. And you, Sir.

Sir And. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieut.

Vio. Et vous auffi; votre ferviteur,

Sir And. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.]

I have ventur'd to make the two knights change fpeeches in this disfogue with Viola; and, I think, not without good reason. It were & prepofterous forgetfulness in the Poet, and out of all probability, to make Sir Andrew not only speak French, but understand what is faid to him in it, who in the firft act did not know the English of Pourquoys

'Oli. What is your name?

Vio. Cefario is your fervant's name, fair Princess.
Oli. My fervant, Sir? 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
Y'are fervant to the Duke Orfino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your fervant's fervant is your fervant, Madam.

Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me. Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf.

Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you ;-
I bade you never fpeak again of him.
But would you undertake another fuit,
I'd rather hear you to follicit that,
Than mufick from the spheres.

Vio. Dear Lady,——

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did fend, After the laft enchantment, you did hear, A ring in chase of you. So did I abufe Myfelf, my fervant, and, I fear me, you; Under your hard conftruction must I fit, To force that on you in a shameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? Have you not fet mine honour at the stake, And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts

That tyrannous heart can think? to one of your receiving Enough is fhewn; a cyprus, not a bosom,

Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you speak.

Vio. I pity you.

Oli. That's a degree to love.

Vio. No not a grice: for 'tis a vulgar proof,

That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to fmile again; O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

[Clock firikes

If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion, than the wolf!
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 are come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due west.

Vio. Then, weftward hoe:

Grace and good difpofition attend your Ladyship!
You'll nothing, Madam, to my Lord by me?

Oli. Stay; pr'ythee tell me, what thou think'ft of me? Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are. Oli. If I think fo, I think the fame of you. Vio. Then think you right: I am not what I 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


Oli. O, what a deal of fcorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murd'rous guilt fhews not itfelf more foon,
Than love that would feem hid: love's night is noon.
Cefario, by the roses of the fpring,

By maid-hood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee fo, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reafon, can my paffion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this claufe,
For that I woo, thou therefore haft no caufe:
But rather reafon thus with reason fetter ;
Love fought is good; but given, unfought, is better.
Vio. By my innocence I fwear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bofom, and one truth,

And that no woman has; nor never none

Shall mistress be of it, fave I alone.

And so adieu, good Madam; never more
Will I my mafter's tears to you deplore.

Oli. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, may'ft move That heart, which now abhors to like his love.





SCENE changes to an apartment in OLIVIA's house.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

Sir And.


thy reafon.

O, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.

Sir To. Thy reafon, dear venom, give

Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I faw your niece do more favours to the Duke's ferving-man, than ever she bestow'd on me. I faw't, i'th' orchard.

Sir To. Did the fee thee the while, old boy, tell me hat?

Sir And. As plain as I fee 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 reafon.

Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men fince before Noah was a failor.

Fab. She did fhew favour to the youth in your fight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormoufe valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accofted her, and with fome excellent jefts, fire-new from the mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbnefs. This was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulkt. The double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now fail'd into the North of my Lady's opinion; where you will hang like an ificle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by fome laudable attempt, either of valour or policy

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


Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the bafs of valour; challenge me the Duke's youth to


fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece hall take note of it; and affure thyfelf, 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 in a martial hand; be curft and brief: it is no matter how witty, fo it be eloquent, and full of invention; (13) taunt him with the licence of1 ink; if thou thou'ft him fome thrice, it fhall not be amifs; and as many lyes as will lie in thy fheet of paper, although the fheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England; fet 'em down, go about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, tho' thou write with a goosepen, no matter: about it.

Sir And. Where fhall I find you?

Sir To. We'll call thee at the Cubiculo: go.

[Exit Sir Andrew. Fab. This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad, fome twe thousand strong or fo.

(13) Taunt him with the licence of ink; if thou thou'ft him fome thrice,] There is no doubt, I think, but this paffage is one of those, in which our author intended to fhew his respect for Sir Walter Raleigh, and a deteftation of the virulence of his profecutors. The words quoted, feem to me directly levell'd at the Attorney General Coke, who in the trial of Sir Walter, attack'd him with all the following indecent expreffions.- "All that he did was by thy inftigation, thou vipour; for I thou thee, thou traytor!" (Here, by the way, are the Poet's three thou's) "You are an odious man.' Is he bafe? I return it into thy throat, on his behalf.". damnable atheit!".

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Thou art a monfter; thou haft an "English face, but a Spanish heart.". "Thou haft a Spanish heart, and thyfelf art a fpider of hell."- "Go to, I will lay thee on thy back for the confident' traytor that ever came at << a bar," &c. Is not here all the licence of tongue, which the Poet fatyrically prefcribes to Sir Andrew's ink? And how mean an opi nion Shakespeare had of these petulant invectives, is pretty evident from his clofe of this fpeech; Let there be gall enough in thy ink, tho' thou write it with a goofe-pen, no matter. A keener lafh at the Attorney for a fool, than all the contumelies the Attorney threw at the prifoner as a fuppos'd traytor!

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