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and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, legs, and spin it off.
simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? whereyour niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four fore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they to one she'll none of me. The count himself, here like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why hard by, woos her.
dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come Sir To. She'll none o' the count: she'll not match home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig: above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I would not so much as make water, but in a sinkI have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to man.
hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent conSir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow stitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of o' the strangest mind i' the world: I delight in a galliard. masques and revels sometimes altogether.
Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight? | well in a damask-coloured stock. Shall we set
Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he about some revels ? be, under the degree of iny betters : and yet I will Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not not compare with an old man.
born under Taurus? Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, Sir And. Taurus ? that's sides and heart. knight?
Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
see thee caper. Ha! higher: ha, ha!—excellent ! Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.
SCENE IV.-A Room in the Duke's Palace. Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so long
absent; or, to be turned away: is not that as good Enter VALENTINE, and Viola in man's attire.
as a hanging to you? Val. If the duke continue these favours towards Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad maryou, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he riage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out. hath known you but three days, and already you are Mar. You are resolute, then? no stranger.
Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli- | points. gence, that you call in question the continuance of Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ? if both break, your gaskins fall. Val. No, believe me.
Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt. Well, go thy
way: if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.
Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?
comes my lady: make your excuse wisely; you Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.
[Erit. Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.–Cesario,
Enter Olivia, and MALVOLIO.
Clo. Wit, an't be thy will
, put me into good foolTherefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her: ing! Those wits, that think they have thee, do Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, may pass for a wise man: for what says QuinapaTill thou have audience.
lus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.-God Vio.
Sure, my noble lord, bless thee, lady! If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow,
Oli. Take the fool away. As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, lady. Rather than make unprofited return.
Öli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: Vio. Say I do speak with her, my lord, what besides, you grow dishonest. then ?
Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good Duke. 0! then unfold the passion of my love; counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, then Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend It shall become thee well to act my woes;
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest: if She will attend it better in thy youth,
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect.
that's mended is but patched: virtue that transgresVio. I think not so, my lord.
ses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but Duke.
Dear lad, believe it, patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogisin F'or they shall yet belie thy happy years,
will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As That say thou art a man: Diana's lip
there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a Is not more smooth, and rubious; thy small pipe flower.—The lady bade take away the fool; thereIs as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound,
fore, I say again, take her away. And all is semblative a woman's part.
Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. I know, thy constellation is right apt
Clo. Misprision in the highest degree ! -Lady, For this affair.—Some four, or five, attend him; cucullus non facit monachum : that's as much as to All, if you will, for I myself am best,
say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, When least in company.- Prosper well in this, give me leave to prove you a fool. And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord
Oli. Can you do it?
Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna.
Oli. Make your proof.
my mouse of virtue, answer me. [Ereunt. Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness I'll bide
your proof. SCENE V.-A Room in OLIVIA's House.
Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou ?
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.
Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your enter in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee brother's soul being in heaven.—Take away the fool, for thy absence.
gentlemen. Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth this world needs to fear no colours.
he not mend ? Mar. Make that good.
Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death Clo. He shall see none to fear.
shake him : infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever Mar. A good lenten answer. I can tell thee make the better fool. where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the Clo. Where, good mistress Mary ?
better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to that I am no fox, but he will not pass his word for say in your foolery.
you are no fool. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supa stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard al- porter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. ready: unless you laugh and minister occasion to Oli. What kind of man is he? him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, Mal. Why, of man kind. that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better
Oli. What manner of man? than the fools' zanies.
Mal. Of very ill manner: he'll speak with you, Oli. O! you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and will you, or no. taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, oli. Of what personage, and years is he? guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets. | enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peasThere is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do cod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. man, though he do nothing but reprove.
He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewClo. Now, Mercury endue thee with leasing, for ishly: one would think, bis mother's milk were thou speakest well of fools !
scarce out of him.
Oli. Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman.
[Erit. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gen
Re-enter Maria. tleman much desire to speak with you. Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?
Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my Mar. I know not, madam : 'tis a fair young man,
face. and well attended.
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Enter Viola. Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you: he speaks nothing Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which but madman. Fie on him - [Exit Maria.]-Go || is she? you, Malvolio : if it be a suit from the count, I am Oli. Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. will?
- [Erit Malvolio.]-Now you see, sir, how your Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
beauty.-I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to eldest son should be a fool, whose skull Jove cram cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excelwith brains; for here he comes, one of thy kin, has lently well penned, I have taken great pains to con a most weak pia mater.
it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am
very comptible even to the least sinister usage. Enter Sir Toby Belcu.
Oli. Whence came you, sir ? Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and at the gate, cousin ?
that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, Sir To. A gentleman.
give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the Oli. A gentleman? What gentleinan ?
house, that I may proceed in my speech. Sir To. "Tis a gentleman here.-A plague o' these Oli. Are you a comedian ? pickle-herrings !-How now, sot?
Vio. No, my profound heart; and yet, by the Clo. Good sir Toby,
very fangs of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early Are you the lady of the house ? by this lethargy?
Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp at the gate.
yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he?
But this is from my commission. I Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care will on with my speech in your praise, and then not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. show you the heart of my message.
[Exit. Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool?
you the praise. Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: Vio. A las ! I took great pains to study it, and 'tis one draught above heat makes him a fool, the sec- poetical. ond mads him, and a third drowns him.
Oli. It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you, Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates, sit o' my coz, for he's in the third degree of drink : and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you he's drown'd: go, look after him.
than to hear you. If you be not mad, begone ; if you Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with shall look to the madman.
me to make one in so skipping a dialogue. Re-enter MALVOLIO.
Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your
way. Mal. Madam, yond' young fellow swears he will Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little speak with you. I told him you were sick : he takes longer.—Some mollification for your giant, sweet on him to understand so much, and therefore comes lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger. to speak with you. I told him you were asleep : he Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deseems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and there- liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak fore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial.
Vio. It alone concerns your ear.
I bring no Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. overture of war, no taxation of homage. I hold the
olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace as A gracious person; but yet I cannot love him. matter.
He might have took his answer long ago. Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, what would you ?
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
Why, what would you? ears, divinity ; to any other's, profanation.
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Oli. Give us the place alone. We will hear this And call upon my soul within the house; divinity.– [Exit Maria.]-Now, sir; what is your Write loyal cantons of contemned love, text?
And sing them loud even in the dead of night; Vio. Most sweet lady,
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be And make the babbling gossip of the air said of it. Where lies your text ?
Cry out, Olivia! O! you should not rest Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
Between the elements of air and earth, Oli. In his bosom! In what chapter of his bo- But you should pity me. som?
oli. You might do much. What is your parentVio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart.
Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : Oli. 0! I have read it: it is heresy. Have you I am a gentleman. no more to say ?
Get you to your lord : Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.
I cannot love him.
Let him send no more, Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to Unless, perchance, you come to me again, negociate with my face? you are now out of your To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: text: but we'will draw the curtain, and show you I thank you for your pains. Spend this for me. the picture. Look you, sir; such a one I was this Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse: present : is't not well done?
[Unveiling. My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.
Love make his heart of Aint that you shall love, Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir : 'twill endure wind and And let your fervour, like my master's, be weather.
Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Erit. Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Oli. What is your parentage ? Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. “ Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,
I am a gentleman.”—I'll be sworn thou art: If you will lead these graces to the grave,
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, And leave the world no copy.
Do give thee five-fold blazon.-Not too fast:-soft! Oli. O! sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. I
soft! will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall Unless the master were the man.-How now? be inventoried, and every particle, and utensil, la- Even so quickly may one catch the plague. belled to my will; as, item, two lips indifferent red; Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections, item, two grey eyes with lids to them; item, one With an invisible and subtle stealth, neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.hither to praise me ?
What, ho! Malvolio. Vio. I see you what you are: you are too
Re-enter MALVOLIO. proud; But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
Here, madam, at your service. My lord and master loves you: O! such love
Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd The county's man: he left this ring behind him, The nonpareil of beauty!
Would I, or not: tell him, I'll none of it. Oli.
How does he love me? Desire him not to flatter with his lord, Vio. With adorations, fertile tears,
Nor bold him up with hopes: I am not for him. With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, Oli. Your lord does know my mind; I cannot I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. love him:
Mal. Madam, I will.
[Eril. Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Oli. I do I know not what, and fear to find Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe; And in dimension, and the shape of nature,
What is decreed must be, and be this so!
SCENE I.— The Sea-coast.
but, you, sir, altered that; for some hour before Enter Antonio and SEBASTIAN.
you took me from the breach of the sea was my
sister drowned. Ant. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not, Ant. Alas, the day! that I go with you ?
Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much Seb. By your patience, no. My stars shine resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautidarkly over me : the malignancy of my fate might, ful: but, though I could not with such estimable perhaps, distemper yours; therefore, I shall crave wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone. boldly publish her—she bore a mind that envy could It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with of them on you.
salt water, though I seem to drown her rememAnt. Let me yet know of you, whither you are brance again with more. bound.
Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. No, 'sooth, sir. My determinate voyage is Seb. O, good Antonio! forgive me your troumere extravagancy; but I perceive in you so excel- ble. lent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let from me what I am willing to keep in: therefore, me be your servant. it charges me in manners the rather to express Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My not. Fait ye well at once: my bosom is full of father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom, 1 kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my know, you have heard of: he left behind him. my- mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine self, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! Orsino's court: farewell.