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Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bondslave?
Sir And. l'faith, or I either?
Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.
Mar. Nay, but say true, does it work upon him?
Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a colour she abhors; and cross-garter’d, a fashion The detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to melancholy, as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me.
Sir To. To the gates of tartar ; thou most excellent devil of wit ! Sir And. I'll make one too.
ACT III. SCENE I.
tabour? Clo. No, fir, I live by the church.
Vio. Art thou a churchman?
Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him : or, the church stands by thy tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church.
Clo. You have said, fir: to see this age! a sentence is but a chev’ril glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong
may be turned outward !
Vio. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
Člo. I would therefore my fister had no name, fir.
. Why, fir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton: but, indeed, words are very rascals, fince bonds disgrac'd them.
Vio. Thy reason, man?
Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.
Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.
Clo. Not so, fir, I do care for something ; but, in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing, fir, I would it would make you invisible.
Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool?
Clo. No, indeed, sir, the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchers are to herrings, the husband's the bigger : I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.
Vio. I saw thee late at the duke Orfino's.
Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the fun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, fir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress : I think, I saw your wisdom there.
Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee; Hold, there's expences for thee. (gives him a piece of money.
Clo. Now, Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard !
Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost fick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within ?
Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, fir?
Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a
Dio. I understand you, sir, 'tis well begg’d.
I is overworn.
Enter for Toby, and for Andrew.
Sir To. I hope, fir, you are; and I am yours. Will you encounter the house ? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
Vio. I am bound to your niece, fir; I mean, she is the list of my voyage.
Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.
Vio. My legs do better understand me, fir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste 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. Most 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 most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed : I'll get 'em all three ready. Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
[Exeunt fir Toby, fir Andrew, and Maria.
Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service.
Oli. My servant, sir? 'Twas never merry world,
Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours :
Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,
Vio, Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you ;
I bade you never speak again of him,
undertake another suit,
Vio. O dearest lady,
Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did fend,
you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Vio. I pity you.
Oli. That's a degree to love.
Vio. No not a grice: for ’tis a vulgar proof
Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again :
Vio. Then westward hoe!
Oli. Stay : pr’ythee, tell me, what thou think’st of me?