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observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, And the free maids, that weave theirthread with bones, and dream on the event. Farewell !

(Exit. Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,
Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea !

And dallies with the innocence of love,
Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.

Like the old age.
Sir To. She's a beagle,true-bred,and one that adores Clo, Are you ready, sir?
me; whato' that?

Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing!

Sir And. I was adored once too,

Sir To, Let's to bed, knight!--Thou hadst need send

Clo. Come away, come away, death,
for more money.
Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul

And in sad cypress let me be laid!

Fly away, fly away, breath!

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
Sir To. Send for money, knight; ifthou hast her not

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
i'the end, call me Cut.
Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how

0, prepare it!
My part of death no one so true

Did share it.
Sir To. Come, come! I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too
late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight!

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown!

Not a friend, not a friend greet
SCENE IV.- Aroom in the Duke's palace.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown!

A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Duke. Give me some music:- Now, good morrow,

Lay me, 0, where

Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,

Το there!
That old and antique song we heard last night;

Methonght it did relieve my passion much;

Duke. There's for thy pains.
More than light airs and recollected terms,

Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :-

Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.
Come, but one verse!

Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that or another.
should singit.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.
Duke. Who was it?

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord ; a fool, that the lady tailor make thy doublet of changeable tatsata, for thy
Olivia's father took much delight in; he is about the mind is a very opal !-I would have men of such con-

stancy put to sea, that their business might be every
Duke. Seek him out, and play the true the while! thing, and their intent every where; for that's it, that

{Exit Curio.--Music. always makes a good voyage of nothing.–Farewell.
Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me!

Duke. Let all the rest give place.--
For, such as I am, all true lovers are;

(Exeunt Curio and attendants.
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,

Once more, Cesario,
Save, in the constant image of the creature

Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty:
That is belov'd.—How dost thou like this tune? Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat,

Prizes not quantity of dirty lands:
Where love is thron'd.

The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Duke. Thou dost speak masterly:

Tell her, I hold as gicldily as fortune;
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine


But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves;

That nature pranks herin, attracts my soul.
Hash it not, boy?

Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
Vio. A little, by your favour,

Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.
Duke. What kind of woman is't?

Vio. 'Sooth, but you must.
Vio. Of your complexion.

Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Duke. She is not worth thee then. What year's, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart,

As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her;
Vio. About your years, my lord.

You tell her so: must she not then be answer'd ?
Duke. Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take Duke. There is no woman's sides,
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.

As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,

So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,

Alas, their love may be called appetite, -
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, No motion of the liver, but the palate, --
Than women's are.

That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
Vio. I think it well, my lord.

But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, And can digest as much: make no compare
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:

Between that love a woman can bear me,
For woman are as roses; whose fair flower,

And that I owe Olivia!
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

Vio. Ay, but I know,-
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so;

Duke. What dost thou know?
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe:
Re-enter Curio, and Clown.

In faith, they are as true of heart, as wc.
Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night!- My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
Mark it, Cesario ; it is old, and plain :

As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,

I should your lordship.

[Exit Clown.

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Duke. And what's her history?

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!
Vio. A blank, my lord: she never told her love, Fab. O, peace, peace!
But let concealment, like a wormi’the bud,

Mal. And then to have the humoar of state : and after Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'din thought, a demure travel of regard,—telling them, I know my And, with a green and yellow melancholy,

place, as I would they should do theirs,—to ask for my She sat, like patience on a monument,

kinsman Toby. Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ?

Sir To. Bolts and shackles ! We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed, Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Our shows are more than will; for still we prove Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, Much in our vows, but little in our love.


ke out for him : I frown the while; and, perchance,
Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, approaches; courtsies there to me:
And all the brothers too ;- and yet I know not;- Sir To. Shall this fellow live?
Sir, shall I to this lady?

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars,
Duke. Ay, that's the theme.

yet peace! To her in haste! give her this jewel; say,

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my Mylove can give no place, bide no denay! [Exeunt. familiar smile with an austere regard of control.

Sir 7'0. And does not Toby take you a blow o’the SCENE V.-Olivia's garden.

lips then? Enter Sir Toby BELCH, Sir Andrew Acue-cheek, and Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast FABIAN.

me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech:Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian!

Sir To. What, what? Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, Mal. You must amend your drunkenness. let me be boiled to death with melancholy!

Sir To. Out, scab ! Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the nig- Fab. Nay,patience, or we break the sinews of our plot! gardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time shame?

with a foolish knight; Fab. I would exult, man; you know, he brought me

Sir Änd. That's me, I warrant you. out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here. Mal. One sir Andrew :

Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me fool. we will fool him black and blue:-- shall we not, sir Mal. What employment have we here? Andrew ?

[Taking up the letter. Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin.
Enter MARIA.

Sir To. O, peace ! and the spirit of humours intimate Sir To. Here comes the little villain :-how now, my reading aloud to him! nettle of India?

Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these beher Mar. Getye all three into the box-tree : Malvolio's very C's, her U's, and her los ; and thus makes she her coming down this walk; he has been yonder i’the sun, great P's. Itis, in contempt of question, her hand. practising behaviour to his own shadow, this halt Sir And. Iler C's, her U's, and her T's : why that? hour: observe him, for the love of mochery; for, I Mal. (Reads.] To the unknown beloved, this, and my know, this letter will make a contemplative ideot o good wishes: her very phrases !-By your leave, wax. him. Close, in the name of jesting! (The men hide -Soft!-and the impressure her Lucrece, with which themselves.] Lie thou there ; (throws down a letter.) she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: to whom should this be? for here comes the trout, that must be caught with Fab. This wins him, liver and all. tickling

[Exit Maria. Mal. (Reads.] Jove knows, I love:
Enter MalvOLIO.

But who?
Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune! Maria once

Lips do not move,
told me, she did affect me: and I have heard herself

No man must know.
come thus near,that, should she fancy, it should be one No man must know. – What follows ? the numbers
of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more altered !- Noman must know :-If this should be thee,
exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. Malvolio?
What should I think on't?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock!
Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue! -

Mal. I may command, where I adore:
Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-

But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
cock of him; how he jets under his advanced

With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; plumes !

M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue!

T'ab. A fustian riddle !
Sir To. Peace, I say !

Sir To. Excellent wench, sayI!
Mal. To be count Malvolio;

Mal. M, 0, A, I, doth sway my life.- Nay, but first,
Sir To. Ah, rogue !

let me see,

let me see, -- let me see! Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him!

Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him! Sir To. Peace, peace !

Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel checks at it! Mal. There is example for’t; the lady of the strachy Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

command me; I serve her, she is my lady. \Vhy, this Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !

is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstrucFab. 0, peace ! now he's deeply in; look,how imagi- tion in this: — And the end, What should that alnation blows him!

phabetical position portend ? if I could make that re-
Mal. Having been three months married to her, sit- semble something in me, -Softly!—M, 0, 4, 1:
tingin my state,

Sir To. O, ay! make up that:-he is now at a cold scent.
Sir To. 0, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though it be
Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched as rank as a fox.
velvet gown; having come from a daybed, where I left Mal. M, — Malvolio; — M, — why, that begins my

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Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is sition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it excellent at faults.

cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you Mal. M,- But then there is no consonancy in the will see it, follow me. sequel; that suffers under probation:A should follow, Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent but o does.

devil of wit! Fab. And Oshall end, I hope.

bir dnd, I'll make one too.

(Exeunt. Sir To. Ay, orI'll cudgel him, and make him cry, Q. Mal. And then I comes behind ;

A CT III. Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind yon, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortuves be

SCENE I.--Olivia's garden. fore you.

Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabor. Mal, M, O, A, 1,-- This simulation is not as the for- t'io. Sare thee, friend, and thy music! Dost thon mer:--and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to live by thy tabor? me, for every one ofthese letters are in my name. Soft ; Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. here follows prose. If this fall into tly hand,revolve. V'10. Art thou a churchmaan? In my stars I am abore thee; bui be not afraid Clo. No suck matter, sir; I do live by the church: for of greatness! Some are born great, some achieve I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. church. Thy fates open their hands ; let thy blood and spirit Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a embrace them! And, to inure thyself to what thou art beggar dwell near him: or, the church stands by thy like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh! tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants ! let Clo.You have said, sir.- To see this age! -A sentence thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; how quickly the trick of singularity! She thus advises thee, that the wrong siile may be turned outward ! sighs for thee. Remember who commended thr yellow Vio. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with stochings; and wished to see thee ever cross-garter'd: words, may quickly make them wanton. I sly', remember! Go to; thou art made, if thou de- Clo. I would, therefore,my sister had had no name,sir. sirest to be so; if not,let me see thee a steward still,the 1'10. Wły, man? fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with fingers. Farewell. She, that would alter services with that word might make my sister wanton. But, indeed, thee,

The fortunate unhappy. words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them. Day-light and champian discovers not more: this is Vio. Thy reason, man? open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; battle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I and words are false, I ain loath to prove reawill be point-de-vice, the very man. I do not now fool son with them. myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason Vio. I warrant, thon art a merry fellow, and carest excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did com- for nothing,

0, mend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my Jeg being cross-gartered; and in this she mani-conscience, sir, I do not care for you : if that be to cars fests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction, for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my V10. Art oot thou the lady Olivia's fool? stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married ; and fools of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised !--Here is are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the yet a postseript. Thou canst not choose but know who husband's the bigger; Iam, indeed, uot her fool, but I am. If thou entertainesl my love, let it appear in thy her corrupter of words. smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my l'io. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr’ychee! Jove, Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the I thank thee. I will smile; I will do everything that sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but thou wilt have me.

(Exit. the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pen- mistress : I think I saw your wisdom there. sion of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee! Sir And. So could I too.

clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such thee a beard! another jest,

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for Enter Marta.

one; though I would not have it grow ou my chin. Is Sir And. Nor I neither.

thy lady within? Fub. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o’my neck ?

Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. Sir And. Oro' mine either?

Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-triz, and bring a Cressida to this Troilus. become thy bond-slave?

Vio. [understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. Sir And. I' faith, or I either.

Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but Sir To. Why,thou hast put him in such a dream, that, a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might Sir To. Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

say, element; but the word is over-worn. [Exit. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; his first approach before my lady: he will come to her And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: in yellow stockings, and’tis a colour she abhors; and He must observe their mood, on whom he jests, cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile The quality of persons, and the time; npon her, which will now be sounsuitable to her dispo- And, like the haggard, check at every feather


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That comes before his eye. This is a practice, Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you :
As full of labour, as a wise man's art:

And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;

Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. There lies your way, due west.
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew

110. Then westward-hoe :

Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship!
Sir To. Save you, gentleman.

You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Vio. And you, sir.

Oli. Stay:
vous garde, monsieur.

I prythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me.
Vio. Et vous aussi ; votre serviteur.

Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are.
Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours.

Oli, If I think so, I think the same of you. Sir To. Will yon encounter the house? my niece is Vio. Then think you right; I am not what I am. desirous

you should enter, if your trade be to her. Oli. I would, you were as I would have you be! Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir : I mean, she is the Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am, list of my voyage.

I wish it might; for now I am your fool.
Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion! Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I un- In the contempt and anger of his lip!
derstand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. A murd'rons guilt shows not itself more soon
Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

Than love, that would seem hid: love's night is noon. Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance: but Cesario, by the roses of the spring, we are prevented.

By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,

I love thee so, that, máugre all thy pride, Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. odours on you !

Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier : Rain odours ! For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause: well.

But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter: Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better. most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.

Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:-I'll I have one heart, one bosom, and one iruth, get 'em all three ready.

And that no woman has ; nor never none
Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
my hearing. (Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew,and Maria. And so adien, good madam; never more
Give me your hand, sir.

Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may'st move
Oli. What is your name?

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

(Exeunt. Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment :

SCENE II.- A room in Olivia's house. You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir ANDREW Acue-cheek, and Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours ;

Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay ajot longer.
Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason!
'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! Fab. You nust needs yield your reason, sir Andrew.

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours
On his behali :-

to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you;

upon me; I saw'ti'the orchard. I bade you never speak again of him:

SirTo.Did she see thee the while,old boy?tell me that, But, would you undertake another suit,

Sir And. As plain as I see you now.
Thad rather hear you to solicit that,

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her
Than music from the spheres.

toward you.
l'io. Dear lady,

Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o’me?
Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send, Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of
After the last enchantment you did here,

judgment and reason.
A ring in chase of you ; so did I abuse

Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, since Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you:

before Noah was a sailor. Under your hard construction must I sit,

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight, To force that on you in a shameful cunning, only to exasperate you,to awake your dormouse valour, Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: Have you not set mine hononrat the stake,

you should then have accosted her; and with some And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts, excellent jests,fire-new from the mint, you should have Thut tyrannous heart can think? To one of your banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for receiving

at your hand, and this was baulked: the double gilt of Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom,

this opportunity you let time wash oil, and you are Hides my poor heart. So let me hear you speak. now sailed into the north of'my lady's opinion; where Vio. I pity you.

you will hang like an iciele on a Dutchman's beard,unOli. That's a degree to love.

less you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tiš avulgar proof, of valour, or policy. That very oft we pity evemies.

Sir And. And't be any way,it must be with valour; for Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tistime to smile again: policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist, as a politician, Oworld, how apt the poor are to be proud!

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the Ifone should be a prey, how much the better basis olvalour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight To fall before the lion, than the wolf? (Cinek strikes. with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.- take nolcofit; and assure thyself, there is no love


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broker in the world can more prevail in man's com-jI pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
mendation with woman, than report of valour. With the memorials, and the things of fame,
l'ab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew. That do revown this city.

Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to Ant. 'Would, you'd pardon me;

I do not without danger walk these streets : Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the Count his gallies, brief; it is no matter how witty, soit be eloquent, and I did some service; of such note, indeed, full of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink:if That, were I ta’en here, it would scarce be answer'd. thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people. as many lies, as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature; the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in Eng- | Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel, land, set 'em down; go, about it. Let there be gall Might well have given us bloody argument. enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose- It might have since been answerd in repaying pen, no matter. Abont it!

What we took from them; which, for tratíic's sake, Sir And. Where shall I find you?

Most of our city did: only myself stood out; Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go. For which, if I be lapsed in this place,

[Exit Sir Andrew. I shall pay dear. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby.

Seb. Do not then walk too open.
Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; some two thou- Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse;
sand strong, or so.
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,

atello Fab. We shall have a rare letter from himn : but you'll Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet, not deliver it.

Whiles you beguile the time,and feed yourknowledge, Sir To. Never trust me then; and by all means stiron With viewing of the town; there shall you have me. the youth to an answer, I think, oxen and wainropes Seb. Why I your purse? cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were Ant. Haply, your eyeshall light upon some toy opened, and you find so much blood in his live, as will You have desire to purchase; and your store, clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. I think, is not for idle markets, sir.

Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
no great presage of cruelty.

An hour,
Enter MARIA.
Ant. To the Elephant.-

TRUSO Sir To. Look where the youngest wren of nine comes. Seb, Ido remember.

(Exeunt. Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio is

SCENE IV. -Olivia's garden. turned heathen,a very renegado; for there is noChris

Enter Olivia and MARIA.

inds tian that means to be saved by believing rightly, can Oli. I have sent after him: he says, he'll come;

and ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. How shall I feast him? what bestow on him? He's in yellow stockings. For youth is bought more oft,than begg’d,or borrow'd.

voli Sir To. And cross-gartered ?

I speak too loud. Mar. Most villainously, like a pedant that keeps a Where is Malvolio?-he is sad and civil, school i' the church. - I have dogged him like his And suits well for a servant with my

fortunes; murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that Where is Malvolio? I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into Mar. He's coming, madam; more lines, than are in the new map, with the ang- But in strange manner. He is sure possess’d.

a mentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave? thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things at Mar. No, madam, him. Iknow, my lady will strike him : if she do, he'll He does nothing but smile: your ladyship smile, and take't for a great favour.

Were best have guard about you, if he come;
Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is.(Exeunt. For sure the man is tainted in his wits.

Oli. Go call him hither.-I'm as mad as he,
SCENE II.-A Street.

If sad and merry madness equal be.--
Enter Antonio and SEBASTIAN.

Enter Malvolio.
Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you; How now, Malvolio?
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho. [Smiles fantastically.
I will no further chide you.

Oli. Smil'st thou ?
Ant. I could not stay behind you ; my desire, I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;

Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make some And not all love to see you, (though so much, obstruction in the blood,this crossgartering: but what As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,) of that? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the But jealousy what might befall your travel,

very true sonnet is : Please one, and please all. Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter Unguided, and unfriended, often prove

with thee? Rough and unhospitable: my willing love,

Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. The rather by these arguments of fear,

It did come to his hands, and commands shall be exeSet forth in your pursuit.

cuted. I think, we do know the sweet Roman hand. Seb. My kind Antonio,

Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? I can no other answer make, but thanks,

Mal. To bed? ay, sweetheart ; and I'll come to thee. And thanks, and ever thanks. Often good turns Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:

kiss thy hand so oft ? But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,

Mar. How do you, Malvolio? You should find better dealing. What's to do? Mal.At your request? Yes; nightingales answer daws. Shall we go see the reliques of this town?

Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see yoar lodging. before my lady? Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;

Mal. Be not afraid of greatness :

'Twas well writ.

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