Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better ac- thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a quaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, sir. Sir. And. Good ristress Mary Accost, Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost is, front her, Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would thou Sir And. An yon part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have: and here's my band. Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. coranto? My very walk should be a jig! I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!— excellent! [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A room in the Duke's palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your me-known you but three days, and already you are no Mar. It's dry, sir. taphor? Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but Sir And. Are you full of them? Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit Maria. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary! When did I see thee so put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down. Methinks, sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does harm to my wit. Sir To. No question. stranger. Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negligence, Enter Duke, CURIO, and Attendants. Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll Till thou have audience. Sir And. What is pourquoy? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O, had I but followed the arts! Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Sir To. Excellent: it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off. Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, wooes her. Sir To. She'll none o' the count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight? Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man. Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why dost Vio. Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow, Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Duke. Dear lad, believe it! I Vio. I'll do my best, To woo your lady: yet, [Aside.] a barful strife! SCENE V. A room in Olivia's house. Enter MARIA, and Clown. Mar. Nay, either tell me, where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips, so wide as a bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy ab sence. Clo. Let her hang me! he, that is well hanged in this world, needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good! 8 Clo. He shall see none to fear. Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? Mar. A good lenten answer! I can tell thee where Mal. Imarvel your ladyship takes delight in such a Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out. Mar. You are resolute then? Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points. Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall. Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy Oli. Take the fool away! barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day with Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? weak pia mater. Enter SIR TOBY BELCH. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he at the gate, cousin? Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram with Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good coun-brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most sel will amend; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing, that's mended, is but patched virtue, that transgresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower:- the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away! Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree!- Lady, Cu- Clo. Dexterously, good madonna. Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna; good my mouse of virtue, answer me! Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof. Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou? Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend? Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better encreasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two-pence, that you are no fool. A plague o' these Sir. To. A gentleman. Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman? Sir To. "Tis a gentleman here pickle-herrings! How now, sot? Clo. Good sir Toby, Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery! There's one at the gate. Oli. Ay, marry; what is he? Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Exit. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drown'd: go, look after him. Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown. Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. Madam,yond young fellow swears, he will speak with you. I told him, you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind of man is he? Mal. Why, of man kind. Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his Oli. What manner of man? you, or no. Oh. Of what personage, and years, is he? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough [Exit. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face! We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. Enter VIOLA. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: Your will? Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, sir? Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. Oli. Are you a comedian? Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say? Vio. Good madam, let me see your face! Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give Oli. How does he love me? Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Vio. Most certain,if you are she, you do usurp your-In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical! Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you, keep it in! I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue. Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Oli. Tell me your mind! Vio. I am a messenger. Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office! Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my hand; my words are as full of peace as matter. Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you? Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, have learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret, as maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any others, profanation. I Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divi- Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said Oli. In his bosom? in what chapter of his bosom? And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, I Oli. Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Oli. You might do much. What is your parentage? I I Oli. Get you to your lord; cannot love him: let him send no more; [Exit. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well; Unless the master were the man. How now? Mal. Here, madam, at your service. Oli. I do I know not what; and fear to find A CT II. SCENE I. The Sea-coast. [Exit. [Exit. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Tio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly; [Exit. SCENE III.-A room in Olivia's house. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st - Ant. Alas, the day! Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, Seb. Alady, sir, though it was said she much resem-to be up late, is to be up late. bled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but Sir To. A false couclusion; I hate it as an unfilled though I could not, with such estimable wonder, over- can. To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, is carly; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go she hore a mind, that envy could not bat call fair: she is to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem elements? 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 murder me for my love, let me be your servant! Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not! Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's court: farewell![Exit. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino's court, Else would I very shortly see thee there: But, come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.-Marian, I say!--a stoop of wine! Enter Clown. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith. Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three? Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now, let's have a catch. Sir And.By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Quenbus; 'twas very good, i'faith. [Exit. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman; hadst it? SCENE II.-A'street. Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: 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 song! Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight! Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith! Sir And. An you love me, let's do't! I am 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, thouknave, knight? I shall be constrained 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. [They sing a catch. Enter MARIA. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me! please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost done. Sir To. But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not? [Singing. Sir To. Out o' time? sir, ye lie.-Art 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'the mouth too. Sir To. Thou'rt i'theright.-Go, sir, rub your chain with crums!-A stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know of it, by this hand. [Exit. Mar. Go shake your ears! Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink, when a man's a-hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think, I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know, I can do it. Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him! Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog! Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight. Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Mal- constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, that volio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we. cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths: Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Til-the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he ley-valley,lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, lady! [Singing. that all, that look on him, love him; and on that vice Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disposed, Sir To. What wilt thou do? 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. 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 ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated: I can write very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt. drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And your horse now would make him an ass. Mal. Sir Toby, Imust be round with you. My lady Mar. Ass, Idoubt not. bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable! kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you! I know, my phyyou can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, sic will work with him. I will plant you two, and let you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter; |