92 TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth with the which I doubt not but to do myself much Had number'd thirteen years. Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished, indeed, his mortal act, That day that made my sister thirteen years. But nature to her bias drew in that. Duke. Be not amaz'd; right noble is his blood. [To Viola. Thou never should'st love woman like to me. Duke. Give me thy hand; And yet, alas, now I remember me, Re-enter Clown, with a letter. A most extracting frenzy of mine own Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end, as well as a man in his case may do: he has here writ a letter to you; I should have given it to you to-day morning; but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when they are delivered. Óli. Open it, and read it. Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman:-By the Lord, madam,Oli. How now! art thou mad? Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox.2 right, or you much shame. Think of me as you The madly-used Malvolio. Oli. Did he write this? Clo. Ay, madam. Duke. This savours not much of distraction. My lord, so please you, these things further thought To think me as well a sister as a wife, Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your Your master quits you; [To Viola.] and, for your So much against the inettle of your sex, A sister?-you are she. Re-enter Fabian, with Malvolio. Duke. Is this the madman? How now, Malvolio? Ay, my lord, this same: Madam, you have done me wrong, Mal. You must not now deny it is your hand, Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing. Though, I confess, much like the character: But, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me, thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, And in such forms which here were presuppos'd Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee be content: This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon l'ee · But, when we know the grounds and authors of it Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause. Good madam, hear me spen And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come, Taint the condition of this present hour, In hope it shalt 1. [To Fabian. Which I have wonder'd at. Oli. Read it you, sirrah. Fab. [reads. By the Lord, madam, you wrong Most freely I confess, myself, and Toby, me, and the world shall know it: though you have Set this device against Malvolio here, put me into darkness, and given your drunken Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my We had conceiv'd against him: Maria writ senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own The letter, at sir Toby's great importance;' letter that induced me to the semblance I put on ;In recompence whereof, he hath married he How with a sportful malice it was follow'd, Oli. Pr'ythee, read i' thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear. (2) Voice. (3) Attend. (5) Inferior. Fab. (6) Fool. 77) Importunacy. L May rather pluck on laughter than revenge; Oli. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled' thee! Clo. Why, some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them. I was one, sir, in this interlude; one sir Topas, sir; but that's all one :- -By the Lord, fool, I am not mad;-But do you remember? Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagg'd: And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. Mal. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. Of our dear souls-Meantime, sweet sister, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken head, For the rain it raineth every day. A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day. [Exit. This play is in the graver part elegant and easy and in some of the lighter scenes exquisitely humorous. Ague-cheek is drawn with great propriety, but his character is, in a great measure, that of natural fatuity, and is therefore not the proper prey of a satirist. The soliloquy of Malvolio is truly comic; he is betrayed to ridicule merely by his pride. The marriage of Olivia, and the succeed ing perplexity, though well enough contrived to divert on the stage, wants credibility, and fails to produce the proper instruction required in the dra ma, as it exhibits no just picture of life. JOHNSON. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Vincentio, duke of Vienna. PERSONS REPRESENTED. |Clown, servant to Mrs. Over-done. Abhorson, an executioner. Angelo, iord deputy in the duke's absence. Escalus, an ancient lord, joined with Angelo in Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner. the deputation. Claudio, a young gentleman. Lucio, a fantastic. Two other like gentlemen. Varrius, a gentleman, servant to the duke. Provost. ESCALUS, Escal. My lord. Duke. Of government the properties to unfold, For common justice, you are as pregnant2 in, That we remember: there is our commission, From which we would not have you warp.-Call hither, I say, bid come before us Angelo. [Exit an attendant. What figure of us think you he will bear? For you must know, we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply; Lent him our terror, drest him with our love; And given his deputation all the organs Of our own power: what think you of it? Escal. If any in Vienna be of worth To undergo such ample grace and honour, It is lord Angelo. Isabella, sister to Claudio. Mistress Over-done, a bawd. Lords, gentlemen, guards, officers, and other tendants. Scene, Vienna. Thyself upon thy virtues, them on thee. As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd, Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech In our remove, be thou at full ourself; Ang. Duke. No more evasion: We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours. Our haste from hence is of so quick condition, That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd' Matters of needful value. We shall write to you, As time and our concernings shall impórtune, How it goes with us; and do look to know What doth befall you here. So, fare you well: To the hopeful execution do I leave you Of your commissions. Ang. Yet, give leave, my lord, That we may bring you something on the way. Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand, |