Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, Sir; begging but a beggar: Creffida was a beggar. My lady is within, Sir, I will confter to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, is out of my welkin; I might fay, element; but the word is over-worn. [Exit. Vio. This fellow is wife enough to play the fool, And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jefts, The quality of the perfons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a wife-man's art:

For folly, that he wifely fhews, is fit;

But wife men's folly fall'n, quite taints their wit.

Sir And.

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
SAVE you, gentleman.

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 gait and entrance; but we are prevented.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

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 moft pregnant and vouchfafed ear.

*

Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed :-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.

SCENE

Give me your hand, Sir.

III.

Vio. My duty, Madam, and moft humble fervice. 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 he muft 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 speak again of him.
But would you undertake another fuit,
I'd rather hear you to folicit That,
Than mufic from the spheres.

Vio. Dear lady,

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did fend, After the laft enchantment you did here, A ring in chafe of you. So did I abuse Myself, my fervant, and, I fear me, you ; Under your hard conftruction muft I fit, To force that on you in a shameful cunning,

moft pregnant, and vouchsafed ear.] Pregnant, for ready.

Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?

Have you not fet mine honour at the flake,
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 smile again; O world, 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 wafte of time. Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you; And yet when wit and youth are come to harveft, 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 ladyfhip! 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

fool.

Oli. O, what a deal of fcorn looks beautiful

In the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murd'rous guilt fhews not itself more foon,

Than love that would feem hid: love's night is noon.

to one of your receiving] i. e. to one of your ready Apprehenfion.

She confiders him as an arch Page.

Cefario,

Cefario, by the rofes of the spring,

By maid-hood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee fo, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my paffion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore haft no caufe:
But rather reafon thus with reafon fetter;
Love fought is good; but given, unfought, is better.
Vio. By innocence I fwear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has ; nor never none
Shall miftrefs be of it, save I alone.
And fo adieu, good Madam; never more
Will I my mafter's tears to you deplore.

Oli. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, may'

move

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

SCENE

IV.

[Exeunt.

Changes to an Apartment in Olivia's Houfe.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

Sir And.

N°

O, faith, I'll not ftay a jot longer.
Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom,

give thy reason.

Fab. You must needs yield your reafon, 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 that?

Sir And. As plain as I fee you now.

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her towards you.

Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me?

Fab.

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 exafperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her, with fome excellent jefts, fire-new from the mint; you fhould 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 politician.

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour; challenge me the Duke's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall 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; taunt him with the licence of ink; if thou thou'ft him fome thrice, it fhall not be amifs; and as many lies 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 goofe-pen, no matter: about it.