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but you, Sir, alter'd that; for, some hours before you took me from the breach of the fea, was my fifter drown'd.

Ant. Alas, the day!

Seb. A lady, Sir, tho' it was faid she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but tho' I could not [with such eftimable wonder *] overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: she is drown'd already, Sir, with salt water, tho' I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

Ant. Pardon me, Sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. If you will not murther me for my love, let me be your fervant.

Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recover'd, defire it not. Fare you well at once; my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that, upon the leaft occafion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Duke Orfino's court; fare[Exit.

wel.

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! I have made enemies in Oino's court,

Else would I very shortly fee thee there:
But come what may, I do adore thee so,

The danger shall feem sport, and I will go,

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Viola, and Malvolio, at feveral doors. Mal. Were not you e'en now with the Countess Olivia?

Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace I have fince arrived but hither.

Mal. She returns this ring to you, Sir; you might have faved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your Lord into a defperate afsurance the will none of him: and one thing more, that you be never fo hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your Lord's taking of this: receive it fo. * This is an interpolation of the players.

Vio. She took the ring of me, I'll none of it. Mal. Come, Sir, you peevishly threw it to her, and her will is, it should be so return'd: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.

[Exit.

Vio. I left no ring with her; what means this lady?

Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her !
She made good view of me; indeed, fo much,
That fure methought her eyes had cross'd her tongue;
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure; the cunning of her paffion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my Lord's ring; why, he fent her none.
I am the man- If it be so, (as 'tis);
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguife, I fee thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it, for the proper false
In womens' waxen hearts to fet their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we,
For fuch as we are made, if such we be.
How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, feems to doat on me.
What will become of this! as I am man,
My ftate is defperate for my master's love;
As I am woman, (now, alas the day!),
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me t'unty.

[Exit.

SCENE III. Changes to Olivia's house.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo furgere, thou know'st,

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir To. A false conclusion: I hate it, as an unfill'd can; to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life confift of the four elements?

Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but I think it rather confifts of eating and drinking.

Sir To. Th' art a scholar, let us therefore eat and drink.

Maria! I fay!-a stoop of wine.

Enter Clown.

Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Clo. How now, my hearts? did you never fee the picture of we three ?

Sir To. Welcome, afs, now let's have a catch.

Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breaft. I had rather than forty shillings I had fuch a leg, and fo fweet,a breath to fing, as the fool has. In footh, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'ft of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians pafling the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good, i'faith: I fent thee fixpence for thy lemon; hadft it?

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity *; for Malvolio's nose is no whip-ftock. My Lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

Sir And. Excellent: why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a fong

Sir To. Come on, there's fixpence for you. Let's have a fong.

Sir And. There's a testril of me too; if one Knight give a

Cla. Would you have a love-song, or a fong of good life?

Sir To. A love-fong, a love-fong.
Sir And. Ay, ay, I care not for good life.

Clown fings.

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear, your true love's coming,

That can fing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wife man's fon doth know.

He means to say, impocket thy gratuity.

1.

Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith!
Sir To. Good, good.

Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter:

Prefent mirth hath prefent laughter:
What's to come, is still unsure;
In decay there lies no plenty :
Then come kiss me, sweet, and twenty :
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true Knight. Sir To. A contagious breath.

Sir And. Very fweet and contagious, i' faith.

Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance, indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three fouls out of one weaver? shall we do that?

Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a dog at a catch.

Clo. By'r Lady, Sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou knave. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, Knight. I shall be

conftrain'd in 't, to call thee knave, Knight.

Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace.

Clo. I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
Sir And. Good, i' faith: come, begin.

[They fing a catch.

SCENE IV. Enter Maria.

Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here? If my Lady have not call'd up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

Sir To. My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men bewe. Am not I confanguinious? Am I not of her blood? Tilly valley, Lady! there dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady. [Singing.

Clo. Beshrew me, the Knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December, -[Singing. Mar. For the love o' God, peace.

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. My Masters, are you mad? or what are you? have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? do you make an alehouse of my Lady's house, that ye squeak out your cottiers * catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? is there no respect of place, perfons, nor time, in you?

Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our catches. Sneak up! [Hiccoughs.

Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bade me tell you, that though the harbours you as her uncle, she's nothing ally'd to your diforders. If you can feparate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewel.

Sir To. Farewel, dear heart, fince I must needs be

gone.

Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby.

Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost done.

Mal. Is 't even so ?

Sir To. But I will never dié.

Clo. Sir Toby, there you lye.
Mal. This is much credit to you.

Sir To. Shall I bid him go?

Clo. What, an if you do?

[Singing.

Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?

Clo. O no, no, no, you dare not.

Sir To. Out o'time, Sir, ye lye: art thou any more than a steward? dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' th' mouth too.

Sir To. Thou 'rt i'th' right. Go, Sir, rub your chain with crums. A stoop of wine, Maria.

Mal. Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my Lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give

* Ruftic, clownish.

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