I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman.- -I'll be sworn thou art; [not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remem brance again with more. Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of Do give thee five-fold blazon:2-Not too fast:-| kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's court: farewell. [Exit. Unless the master were the man.-How now? To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.- Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino's court, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit. SCENE II-A street. Enter Viola; Malvolio following. Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia ? Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: and one thing more; that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, SCENE I.-The sea-coast. Enter Antonio and be it his that finds it. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not, that I go with you? of them on you. Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. [Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her: what means this lady? Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! She made good view of me; indeed, so much, That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. I Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly over me: the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: Invites me in this churlish messenger. it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. am the man;-if it be so (as 'tis,) Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- How easy is it, for the proper-false" cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! from me what am willing to keep in; therefore Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we; it charges me in manners the rather to express For, such as we are made of, such we be. myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my How will this fadge ? My master loves her dearly; name is Sebastian, which I called Rodrigo; my And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me : know, you have heard of: he left behind him, What will become of this! As I am man, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the My state is desperate for my master's love; heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so As I am woman, now alas the day! ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! before you took me from the breach of the sea, was time, thou must untangle this, not I; my sister drowned. Ant. Alas, the day! It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [Exit. SCENE III-A room in Olivia's house. Enter Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not, with such estimable Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could surgere, thou know'st, (1) Messenger. (3) Count. (2) Proclamation of gentility. (4) Own, possess. (5) Reveal. (6) Dexterous, ready fiend. (8) Suit. Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late. Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou knave. Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an un- Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall filled can: to be up after midnight, and to go to be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight. bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements? Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat! and drink.-Maria, I say!-a stoop of wine! Enter Clown. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith. Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three?1 Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace. Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. Enter Maria. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. 7 6 Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such we be. Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool blood? Tilly-valley, lady! There dwelt a man in has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling Babylon, lady, lady! [Singing. last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; fooling. 'twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disthy leman: hadst it? posed, and so do I too; he does it with a better Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvo-grace, but I do it more natural. lio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all's done. Now, a song. Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song. Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. SONG. Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming? Every wise man's son doth know. Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter; In delay there lies no plenty; Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true knight. Sir To. A contagious breath. Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dances indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that? Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch. Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. (1) Loggerheads be. (2) Voice. (3) Mistress. Romancer. (7) Name of an old song. Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December,— Enter Malvolio. [Singing. Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up 10 Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done. Sir To. But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. go [Singing. Sir To. Shall I bid him ? Sir To. Out of time? sir, ye lie.-Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too. Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right.-Go, sir, rub your chain" with crums:-a stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would (8) Equivalent to filly fally, shilly shally. not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast know of it, by this hand. [Exit. her not the end, call me Cut." Mar. Go shake your ears. Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how Sir And. Twere as good a deed as to drink you will. when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, field; and then to break promise with him, and 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight. make a fool of him. Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.A room in the Duke's palace. En- Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Mal- Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, volio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him That old and antique song we heard last night; into a nay-word, and make him a common recrea- More than light airs and recollected terms, Methought, it did relieve my passion much; tion, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :in my bed: I know I can do it. Come, but one verse. Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight? Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but have reason good enough. I Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that 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. [Exit Curio.-Music. Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing For, such as I am, all true lovers are; In the sweet pangs of it remember me: constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, that cons state without book, and utters it by great Save, in the constant image of the creature swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so cram-That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? med, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on him, love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. Sir To. What wilt thou do? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated: I can write very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir And. I hav't in my nose too. Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that Where love is thron'd. Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: Vio. i'faith? Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman take colour. an ass. Mar. Ass, I doubt not. An elder than herself; so wears she to him, Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea." [Exit. Re-enter Curio, and Clown. Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night: Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain : 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 foul way out. a (1) Method of life. (2) By-word. (3) Inform us. (4) Affected. The row of grass left by a mower. Duke. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too;-and yet I know not:Sir, shall I to this lady?" Duke. Ay, that's the theme. My poor corpse, where my bones shall be To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, thrown; A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover ne'er find my grave, Duke. There's for thy pains. Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. 3 [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Olivia's Garden. Enter Sir Toby Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here. Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taf feta, for thy mind is a very opal'-I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their busi- Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; ness might be every thing, and their intent every and we will fool him black and blue:-Shall we where ; for that's it, that always makes a good not, sir Andrew ? voyage of nothing.-Farewell. Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. [Exit Clown. Vio. Ay, but I know, Duke. What dost thou know? Vie. Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith, they are as true of heart as we. A precious stone of all colours. (2) Decks. Enter Maria. Sir To. Here comes the little villain:-How now, my nettle of India. Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Maivolio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder i' the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. Enter Malvolio. [Exit Maria. Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria 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. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel! Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows him! Mal. Having been three months married to her,| sitting 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 day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping. 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 their's -to ask for my kinsman Toby: Sir To. Bolts and shackles! 2 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 Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel checks at it! Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstruction in this;-And the end,-What should that alphabetical position portend? if I could make that resemble something in me,Softly! M, O, A, I.— Sir To. O, ay! make up that:-he is now at a cold scent. 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, per- it chance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies 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 familiar smile with an austere regard of control: Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then? Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech Sir To. What, what? 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. Mal. One sir Andrew: Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though 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 excellent at faults. Mal. M,-But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. Fab. And O shall end, I hope. Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O. Mal. And then I comes behind; Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you. Mal. M, O, A, I;-This simulation is not as the former :-and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose.-If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have great Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me ness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their fool. hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. Mal. What employment have we here? And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, [Taking up the letter. cast thy humble slough," and appear fresh. Be opFab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. posite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into intimate reading aloud to him! the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, Mal. By my life, that is my lady's hand: these that sighs for thee. Remember who commended be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of cross-gartered: I say remember. Go to; thou art question, her hand. made if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: Why thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not that? worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She Mal. [reads] To the unknown beloved, this, and that would alter services with thee, my good wishes: her very phrases! By your leave, The fortunate-unhappy; wax.-Soft!-and the impressure her Lucrece, Day light and champain discovers not more: this with which she uses to scal: 'tis my lady: To is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, whom should this be? Fab. This wins him, liver and all. But who? Lips do not move, No man must know. No man must know.-What follows!-the numbers Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock!3 But silence, like a Lucrece knife, Fab. A fustian riddle! Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. I will baffle sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice, the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crossgartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised!-Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee. |