observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, | And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones, and dream on the event. Farewell! Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea ! Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. [Exit. Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth, Sir To. She's a beagle,true-bred,and one that adores me; what o' that? Sir And. I was adored once too. Sir To. Let's to bed, knight!-Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'the end, call me Cut. Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir To. Come, come! I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-A room in the Duke's palace. Enter Duke, VIOLA, CURIO, and others. Duke. Give me some music:- Now, good morrow, friends: Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, Clo. Are you ready, sir? SONG. Clo. Come away, come away, death, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My part of death no one so true [Music. Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that or another. should sing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in; he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while! That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? Where love is thron'd. Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves; Hath it not, boy? Vio. A little, by your favour. Duke. What kind of woman is't? Vio. Of your complexion. Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal !—I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent every where; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing.-Farewell. Duke. Let all the rest give place. [Exit Clown. [Exeunt Curio and attendants. The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Vio. 'Sooth, but you must. my Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Duke. She is not worth thee then. What year's, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart, i'faith? Vio. About your years, my lord. As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; Duke. Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take Duke. There is no woman's sides, An elder than herself; so wears she to him, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Vio. I think it well, my lord. Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For woman are as roses; whose fair flower, Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so; To die, even when they to perfection grow! Re-enter CURIO, and Clown. Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night! Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain: The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, Can bide the beating of so strong a passion, 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 wc. 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, Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Duke. Ay, that's the theme. To her in haste! give her this jewel; say, SCENE V.-Olivia's garden. Sir To. Fire and brimstone! 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; courtsies 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 [Exeunt. familiar smile with an austere regard of control. Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'the lips then? Enter Sir Toby BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech:Sir To. What, what? FABIAN. Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian! Fab. Nay, I'll come; ifI lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy! Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? Fab. I 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. Sir To. Here comes the little villain:-how now, my nettle of India? Mar. Getye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's Enter MALVOLIO. 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. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't? Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue! Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey- Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue !— Mal. To be count Malvolio; Sir To. Ah, rogue! - Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him! Sir To. Peace, peace! Mal. You must amend your drunkenness. 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. Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me fool. [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 Lips do not move, Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock! But silence, like a Lucrece knife, Fab. A fustian riddle! 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 has she dressed him! Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel! command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstrucFab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look,how imagi-tion in this: And the end, - What should that alnation blows him! phabetical position portend? if I could make that re Mal. Having been three months married to her, sit-semble something in me, -Softly!-M, 0, A, I. ting 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 daybed, where I left Olivia sleeping: 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 sition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it Mal. M, But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. Fab. And Oshall end, I hope. Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, Q. Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might fore you. Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit! Sir And. I'll make one too. АСТ III. SCENE I.-Olivia's garden. [Exeunt. Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabor. Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for Mal. M, O, A, I,- This simulation is not as the for- 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, I 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. Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee! Jove, Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the I thank thee.I will smile; I will do every thing that sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but thou wilt have me. [Exit. the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pen-mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there. sion of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. 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? Vio. Nay, au 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 Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and bring a Cressida to this Troilus. Sir And. I' faith, or I either. Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aqua-vitae 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 dispo [Exit. 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. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the word is over-worn. 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, But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. 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. I will answer you with gait and entrance: but we are prevented. Enter OLIVIA and MARIA. Most excellent accomplished 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. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, sir. Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Oli. What is your name? Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world,' Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment: You are servant to the count Orsino, youth. 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, I 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, Fio. Dear lady, To force that on you in a shameful cunning, 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! are. Ipr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. I By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, I [Exeunt. SCENE II. A room in Olivia's house. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, FABIAN. and Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason! 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't i' 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. Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: Have you not set mine honour at the stake, And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts, you should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests,fire-new from the mint, you should have That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for receiving Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom, Oli. That's a degree to love. Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis avulgar proof, That very oft we pity euemies. Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again: Oworld, 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. at your hand, and this was baulked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard,unless you do redeem it by some 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 politician. Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis ofvalour. 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 com- I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes I I Ant. 'Would, you'd pardon me; do not without danger walk these streets : Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the Count his gallies, brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and did some service; of such note, indeed, full of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd. thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people. as many lies, as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature; the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in Eng-Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel, land, set 'em down; go, about it. Let there be gall Might well have given us bloody argument. enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-It might have since been answer'd in repaying pen, no matter. About it! Sir And. Where shall I find you? [Exit Sir Andrew. 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 live, 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 stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio is turned heathen,a very renegado; 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. What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake, I Seb. Do not then walk too open. Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse; I Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for Ant. To the Elephant.- SCENE IV. -Olivia's garden. [Exeunt. Oli. I have sent after him: he says, he'll come; I Where is Malvolio?--he is sad and civil, Mar. He's coming, madam; Sir To. And cross-gartered? Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-A Street. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire, Seb. My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make, but thanks, And thanks, and ever thanks. Often good turns 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, sweetheart; 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? Mal.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. |