Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head To thee the book even of my secret soul: of hair.

Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature,

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not?

Sir To. Excellent; it hangs 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: 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, woos 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 To. And I can cut the mutton to't.

Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

Therefore, good youth, address thy gaits unto her;
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
Till thou have audience.
Vio.

Sure, my noble lord,

If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
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,
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect.
Vio. I think not so, my lord.
Duke.
Dear lad, believe it;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years
That say,
thou art a man: Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.
I know, thy constellation is right apt
For this affair:-Some four, or five, attend him;
All, if you will; for I myself am best,
When least in company:-Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.
Vio.

I'll do my best,

To woo your lady yet [Aside.] a barful strife! Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? where- Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. fore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture?

[Exeunt.

Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, SCENE V.-A room in Olivia's house. Enter and come home in a coranto? My very walk Maria and Clown. should be a jig; I would not so much as make

water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang 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 me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!-excellent! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV-A room in the Duke's palace.

thee for thy absence.

Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hanged in this world, needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear.

Mar. A good lenten' answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?

Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; En- and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long as a hanging to you? absent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good

ter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

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

Cinque-pace, the name of a dance.
Stocking. (3) Go thy way.
Full of impediments.

riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar

out.

Mar. You are resolute then?

Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points.

Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit.

(5) Short and spare. (6) Points were hooks which fastened the hose Jor breeches.

Enter Olivia and Malvolio.

Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.-God bless thee, lady!

Oli. Take the fool away.

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the lady.

Oli. Go to, you are a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest.

Re-enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gen-
tleman, much desires to speak with you.
Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?
Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man,
and well attended.

Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ?
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! [Exit Maria.] Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. Clo. Two faults, madonna,' that drink and good [Exit Malvolio.] Now you see, sir, how your foolcounsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, ing grows old, and people dislike it. then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest mend Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram he cannot, let the botcher mend him: any thing, with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has that's mended, is but patched: virtue, that trans- a most weak pia mater. gresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue: if that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, at so beauty's a flower :-the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.

Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.

Clo. Misprision in the highest degree!-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexterously, good madonna.

Oli. Make your proof.

Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna; good my mouse of virtue, answer me.

Enter Sir Toby Belch.

Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he

the gate, cousin?

Sir To. A gentleman.

Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman?

these pickle-herrings !-How now, sot?

Sir To. Tis a gentleman here-A plague o'

Clo. Good sir Toby,

Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?

Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: there's one at the gate.

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll not 'bide your proof.

Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou ? Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna. Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.-Take away the fool, gentlemen.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two-pence that you are no fool.

Oli. Ay, marry; what is he?

[Exit.

Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.

Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drown'd go, look after him.

Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown.

Re-enter Malvolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more Mal. He has been told so: and he says, he'll brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the guard already unless you laugh and minister oc-supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with casion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these Oli. What kind of man is he? wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, Mal. Why, of man kind. no better than the fools' zanies.2 Oli. What manner of man? Mal. Of very ill manner : he'll speak with you, will you, or no.

Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and| taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools!

Italian, mistress, dame. (2) Fools' baubles.
Short arrows.
(4) Lying.

4

you.

Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he?

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him.

(5) The cover of the brain.

Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.
Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

Re-enter Maria.

[Exit.

Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be
said of it. Where lies your text?
Vio. In Orsino's bosom.

Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of

Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my his heart.

face;

We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

will

which

Your

Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty,-I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible,' even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, sir?

Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. Oli. Are you a comedian?

Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?

Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.

Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say?

Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.

Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you negociate with my face? you are now out of your the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present: is't not well done? [Unveiling. Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.

Oli. "Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.

Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and
white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, labelled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to 'praise me?

Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud: But, if you were the devil, you are fair. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp My lord and master loves you; O, such love yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours Could but be recompens'd, though you were to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message.

Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.

Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.

crown'd

The nonpareil of beauty!

Oli.
How does he love me?
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot
love him:

Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates: Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that A gracious person but yet I cannot love him; time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping He might have took his answer long ago. a dialogue. Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, With such a suffering, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense, I would not understand it.

Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber: I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady.

Oli. Tell me your mind.

Oli. Why, what would you Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Vio. I am a messenger. And call upon my soul within the house; Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- Write loyal cantons of contemned love, liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak And sing them loud even in the dead of night; your office. Holla your name to the reverberate hills, Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no And make the babbling gossip of the air overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me.

as matter.

Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?

Vio. The rudeness that hath appear'd in me, have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, I and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation.

Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. [Exit Maria.]Now; sir, what is your text? Vio. Most sweet lady,

Oli. You might do much: What is your parent

age?

am a gentleman.
Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:

Oli.

Get you to your lord;
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:

(3) Presents. (4) Blended, mixed together.
(5) Well spoken of by the world.
(6) Cantos, verses. (7) Echoing.

T