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ACT III.

thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsnan, surly with servants: let thy tongue tang ar"uments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, The fortunate-unhappy. Day-light and champian discovers not more; this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-device, the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised!-Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. I thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee. Jove, I thank thee I will smile: I will do every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit. Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device:

Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest.

Enter MARIA.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
Sir And. Or o' mine either!

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond-slave?

Sir And. I'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? Sir To. Like aqua-vitæ with a midwife.

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 gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a 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!

S And, I'll make one too.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Olivia's Garden.

Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabor. Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music: Dost thou live by thy tabor

Clo. No, sir, 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 beg. gar, if a beggar. dwell near him; or the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.

Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age!-A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!

Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton. Clo. I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.

Vio. Why, man?

Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton: But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced 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, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if that be to care for nothing, sir, 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 pilchards 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 Count Orsino's. Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, 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 expenses for thee.

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick 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, sir? Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd.

Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the word is over-worn.

[Exit.

Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests,

The quality of persons, and the time;

And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art :
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and Sir ANDREW
AGUE-CHEEK.

Sir To. Save you, gentlemen.

Vio. And you, sir.

Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

Vio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur.

Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. Sir Te. Will you encounter the house? my niece is des.rous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Vis. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage.

Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. Vie. My legs do better understand me, sir, 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 accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! dours! well.

Rain

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.

O. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my bearing.

[Exeunt Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and MARIA. Give me your hand, sir.

Fio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Oli. What is your name?

Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. Ou. My servant, sir! Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was call'd compl ment: You are servant to the Count Orsino, youth.

Fio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours;

Yor 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 gen le 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,

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send
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
Lader 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 tyrat nous beart can think. To one of your
receiving

Enough is shown; a cyprus, not-a bosom,

SMAK. NO. X.

Hides my poor heart: So let me hear vou speak. Vio. I pity you.

Oli. That's a degree to love.

Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again:

O world, bow 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-boe:
Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Oli. Stay:

I pr'ythee, 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 murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid: love's night is

noon.

Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

By maidhood, honour, truth, and everything,
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
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
Sball 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 or thou, perhaps, may'st

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Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving-mau, than ever she bestowed upon me; 1 saw't i'the orchard.

Sir To. Did she see thee tle 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? Fub. I will prove it leitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason.

Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, since before Noah was a sailor.

L

74

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, or put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your band, and this was baulked the double guilt of this opportu nity 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. And'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 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 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. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. [Exit Sir ANDREW. 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 you'll not deliver it.

Sir To. Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. wainropes cannot hail them together. For Andrew, I think oxen and 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

comes.

ACT II

him; if she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour.

Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-A Street.

Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. Seb. I would not by my will have troubled you But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you.

Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire, As might have drawn one to a longer voyage), More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; But jealousy what might befal your travel, And not all love to see you (though so much, Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, Unguided, and unfriended, often prove Rough and unhospitable: My willing love, The rather by these arguments of fear, I can no other answer make, but, thanks, Set forth in your pursuit. My kind Antonio, But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm, And thanks, and ever thanks: Often good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay : You should find better dealing. What's to do? Shall we go see the reliques of this town? Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your lodging.

I

Seb.

With the memorials, and the things of fame,
Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;
That do renown this city,
pray you let us satisfy our eyes

I

Ant.

do not without danger walk these streets : 'Would, you'd pardon me ; Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys, I did some service; of such note, indeed, That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd.

Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people. Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature; Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel, Might well have given us bloody argument. It might have since been answer'd in repaying For which, if I be lapsed in this place, What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake, Most of our city did: only myself stood out : I shall pay dear.

Seb.

Do not then walk too open.

Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my
purse;

In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to ledge: I will bespeak our diet,
Whiles

you beguile the time, and feed your know-
ledge,

With viewing of the town; there shall you have

me.

Seb. Why I your purse?

Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy

Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such im-You have desire to purchase; and your store, possible passages of grossness. He's in yellow I think, is not for idle markets, sir. stockings.

Sir To. And cross-gartered?

Mar. Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church.-I have dogged him, like his murderer: He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines than are in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies: you have uot seen such a thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear burling things at him. I know my lady will strike

Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
An hour.
Ant. To the Elephant.-
Seb.

I do remen ber.

SCENE IV.-Olivia's Garden.

[Exeunt.

Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.
How shall I feast him? what bestow on him?
Oli. 1 have sent after him. He says he'll come

For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borrow'd.

I speak too loud.

Where is Malvolio?-he is sad, and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes
Where is Malvolio?

Mar.
He's coming, madam;
But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd.
Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave?
Mar.
No, madam,

He does nothing but smile: your ladyship
Were best have guard about you, if he come ;
For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits.

Oli. Go call him hither.-I'm as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.-

Enter MALVOLIO.

How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho. [Smiles fantastically.
Oui. Smil'st thou?

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: This does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; But what of that, if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one, and please all.

Oli. Why, how dost thou man? what is the matter with thee?

Mat. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs: It did come to his hands, and commands hall be executed. I think, we do know the sweet Roman hand.

Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Mal. To bed? ay, sweetheart; and I'll come to

thee.

Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?

Mar. How do you, Malvolio?

Mal. At your request? Yes; Nightingales answer daws.

Mal. Oh, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me? This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter. Cast thy humble slough, says she;- be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants,-let thy tongue tang with arguments of state,-put thyself into the trick of singularity and, consequently, sets down the manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! And, when she went away now, Let this fellow be look'd to: Fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, everything adheres together; that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance,-What can be said? Nothing, that can be, can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

Re-enter MARIA, with Sir TOBY BELCH and
FABIAN.

Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanc. tity? If all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him.

Fab. Here he is, here he is :-How is't with you, sir? how is't with you, man?

Mal. Go off; I discard you; let me enjoy my private; go off.

him! did not I tell you?-Sir Toby, my lady prays Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within you to have a care of him.

Mal. Ah, ah! does she so ?

Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal gently with him; let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how is't with you? What, man! defy

Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous bold-the devil: consider, he's an enemy to mankind. ness before my lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatness:-'twas well writ.
O. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?

Mal. Some are born great,—

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Mal. Do you know what you say?

Mar. Layou, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched! Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman.

Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say.

Mal. How now, mistress?

Mar. O lord!

Sir To. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: Do you not see, you move him? let me alone with him.

Fab. No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock? how dost thou, chuck?

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Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.

Mar. Nay, pursue him now; lest the device take air, and taint.

Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed.
Mar. The house will be the quieter.

Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he is mad; we may carry it thus, for our pleasure, and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him: at which time, we will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see.

Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.

Fab. More matter for a May morning.

Enter OLIVIA and VIOLA.

Fab. Here he comes with your niece: give there
way, till he take leave, and presently after him.
Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some hor-
rid message for a challenge.

[Exeunt Sir ToBY, FABIAN, and MARIA.
Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary out:
There's something in me that reproves my fault;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.

Vio. With the same 'haviour that your passion
bears,

Go on my master's griefs.

Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture; Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you:

Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it; I war- And, I beseech you, come aga n to-morrow. rant, there's vinegar and pepper in'it.

Fab. Is't so sawcy?

Sir And. Ay, is it, I warrant him: do but read. Sir To. Give me. [Reads.] Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.

Fab. Good, and valiant.

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Sir To. Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain. Fab. Still you keep o'the windy side of the law: Good.

Sir To. Fare thee well; And God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.

Sir To. If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll give't him.

Mar. You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart.

Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailiff: so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away.

Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Erit. Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less; therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth, he will find it comes from a clod pole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon Ague-cheek a notable report of valour; and drive the gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receive it), into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them both, that they will kill one another by the lok, like

cockatrices.

What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny;
That honour, sav'd, may upon asking give?

Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my

master.

Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you?
Vio.
I will acquit you.
Oli. Well, come again to-morrow: Fare thee well;
A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell. [Exit.

Re-enter Sir TоBY BELCH and FABIAN.

Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee.
Vio. And you, sir.

Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake the to't of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full of despight, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end; dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy prepara tion, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly.

Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man hath any quarrel to me; my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man.

Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you ; therefore, if you hold your life at any price, be take you to your guard; for your opposite bath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withal.

Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he?

Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unhacked rapier, and on carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl; souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre: hob, nob, is his word; give't, or take't.

Vio. I will return again in'o the house, and desire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter I have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valour. belike, this is a man of that quirk.

Sir To. Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury; therefore, get you on, and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me, which with as much safety you might answer him: terefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you.

Vio. This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him is; it is something my negligence, nothing of my purpose.

of

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