Enter Curio and Clown.

Duke. O fellow, come; the fong we had last night,

Mark it, Cefario, it is old and plain;

The spinsters and the knitters in the fun,

And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,

Do use to chant it: it is filly footh,

And dallies with the innocence of love,

Like the old age.

Clo. Are you ready, Sir?

Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, fing.

SONG..

Come away, come away, death,

And in fad cypress let me be laid;

Fly away, fly away, breath,

I am flain by a fair cruel maid.

My fhrowd of white, ftuck all with jew,

O, prepare it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown :

Not a friend, not a friend greet

[Mufick

My poor corps, where my bones shall be thrown.

A thousand thousand fighs to save,
Lay me, O! where

True lover never find my grave,
To weep there.

Duke. There's for thy pains.

Clo. No pains, Sir; I take pleasure in finging, Sir.
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truly, Sir, and pleasure will be paid one time

or other.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

Clo. Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the taylor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal! I would have men of fuch constancy

put

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. Farewel. [Exit. Duke. Let all the rest give place. Once more, Ce

fario,

Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty :
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune :
But 'tis that miracle, and Queen of Gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my foul.
Vio. But if the cannot love you, Sir-
Duke. It cannot be so answer'd.

Vio. Sooth, but you must.

Say, that some Lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;;
You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd ?
Duke. There is no woman's fides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite:
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That fuffers furfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much; make no compare :
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

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 we.

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: the never told her love,

But let concealment, like a worm i'th' bud,

F5

Feed

Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She fat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?
We men may say more, swear more, but, indeed,
Our shews are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Duke. But dy'd thy fifter of her love, my boy?
Vio. I'm all the daughters of my fathers' house,

And all the brothers too-and yet I know not
Sir, shall I to this Lady?

Duke. Ay, that's the theam.
To her in hafte; give her this jewel: say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Olivia's Garden.

Sir To.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

YOME thy ways, Signior Fabian.

C

Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a fcruple of this sport, let me be boil'd 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's pity of our lives.

Enter Maria.

Sir To. Here comes the little villain: how now, my nettle of India?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree; Malvolio's coming down this walk, he has been yonder i'th' fun 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 ideot of him. Close, in the name of jefting! lye thou there; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.

[Throws down a Letter, and Exit.

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. 'Tis but fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me, she did affect me; and I have heard her felf 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-weaning rogue.

Fab. O, peace: contemplation makes a rare Turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advanc'd plumes !

Sir And. 'Slife, I could so beat the rogue.

Sir To. Peace, I say.

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 ima

gination blows him.

Mal. Having been three months married to her, fitting in my ftate

Sir To. O for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branch'd velvet gown; having come down from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia fleeping.

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!

Fab. O, peace, peace.

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 uncle Toby

Sir To. Bolts and shackles!

Fab.

Fab. Oh, 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, curtsies there to me.

Sir To. Shall this Fellow live?

Fab. Tho' our filence be drawn from us with cares, yet, peace.

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus; quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of controul.

Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'th' lips then ?

Mal. Saying, uncle Toby, my fortunes having caft me on your Neice, give me this prerogative of speechSir To. What, what?

Mal. You must amend your drunkenness.

Sir To. Out, scab!

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the finews 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,

Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me Fool.

Mal. What employment have we here?

[Taking up the Letter.

Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin.

Sir To. Oh peace! now the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal. By my life, this is my Lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's, and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: why that ? Mal. To the unknown belov'd, this, and my good wishes; her very phrases: By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which the uses to feal; 'tis my Lady: to whom should this be?

Fab. This wins him, liver and all,

Mal.