Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment: You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:

Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.

Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts,

Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle

thoughts

On his behalf.

Oli.

O, by your leave, I pray you,
I bade you never speak again of him :
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that
Than music from the spheres.

Vio.

Dear lady,

I did send,

Oli. Give me leave, beseech you. After the last enchantment you did here, A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you: Under your hard construction must I sit, To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours: what might you think?

Have you not set mine honour at the stake

And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your

receiving

Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom,

Hideth my heart.

124. abuse, deceive.

conduct.

So, let me hear you speak.

126. construction, sc. of my

131. receiving, understanding. 132. cypress, crape, Cypruslawn,' of very thin transparent texture.

Vio. I pity you.

Oli.

That's a degree to love.

Vio. No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,

That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again. O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion than the wolf!

[Clock strikes.
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:

There lies your way, due west.

Vio. Then westward-ho!

position

Attend your ladyship!

Grace and good dis

You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Oli. Stay :

I prithee, tell me what thou think 'st of me.

Vio. That you do think you are not what you are.
Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you.
Vio. Then think you right: I am not what I am.
Oli. I would you were as I would have you be !
Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am?

I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful

In the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon

140

150

Than love that would seem hid: love's night is 160

noon.

Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing,
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,

135. grize, step.

ib. vulgar proof, ordinary experience.

Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;
But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.

Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam: never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

Oli. Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst

move

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

SCENE II. OLIVIA'S house.

[Exeunt.

Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN. Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy

reason.

Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me; I saw 't i' the orchard.

Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that.

Sir And. As plain as I see you now.

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

Sir And. 'Slight, will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgement and reason.

170

10

Sir To. And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor.

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your 20 dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, firenew from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.

Sir And. An't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician.

Sir To. Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be

28. sailed into the north. where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard. This is very possibly an allusion to the actual experiences of two Dutchmen, Heemskirk and Barends, who in 1596 sailed to the Arctic Ocean in order to find a northern

30

40

passage to India. They passed the winter in Nova Zembla (L. P. H. Eykman's letter to H. Conrad, quoted by latter in Jahrbuch, xxxi. 199).

34. Brownist, a dissenter, a follower of Robert Browne, a leading Puritan of the time.

curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention: taunt him with the license of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big 50 enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down go, about it. Let there be gall enough in

thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter about it.

Sir And. Where shall I find you?

Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go.
[Exit Sir Andrew.

Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong, or so.

Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him: but 60 you'll not deliver 't?

Sir To. Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer.

I think

oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together.

For Andrew, if he

were opened, and you find so

much blood in his

liver as will clog the foot of a

flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy.

Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

Enter MARIA.

Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine 70

comes.

Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh