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Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. A good lenten answer! I can tell thee where that saying was born, of I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to sayin 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 ab– sent: 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 bearit out. Mar. You are resolute then 2 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 way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit. Enter OliviA and MAIvolio. Clo. Wit, an’t be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits,that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapulus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.—— God bless thee, lady! Oli. Take the fool away ! Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady! Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel 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. Anything, 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, Ibade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree! — Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum.; that’s as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Goodmadonna, give me leave to prove you a fool! Oli. Can you do it? Clo. Dexterously, good madonna. Oli. Make your proof! 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. Good fool, for my brother's death. Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna. Oli. I know his soulis in heaven, fool. Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. — Take away the fool, gentlemen 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.

Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio 2 Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal; I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain, than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies. Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste

less, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools! Re-enter MARIA. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman, much desires to speak with you. Oli. From the count Orsino, is it? Mar, I know not, madam; ’tis a fair young man, and well attended. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman : fye on him [Exit Maria.j Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit Malvotio.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most weak pia mater. * @ Enter Sir Toby Belch. oli. By minehonour, half drunk—What is heat the gate, cousin? Sir. To. A gentleman: Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman? Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here — A plague o’ these 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. {Erit. 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 sccond 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 * |fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady 7 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.

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Oli. What manner of man 2 Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you, or no. Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? Mal. Not yetold enough for a man, moryoung enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peas-cod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is very wellfavoured, and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him. Ol. Let him approach! Call in my gentlewoman' Mal Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Larit. Ire-enter MARIA. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face! We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. Enter Viola. Fio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her: Your will? hio. 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? Wio. 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 specch. Oli. Are you a comedian 2 Pio. 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. 7 to, Most certain.if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart

Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Haveyou no more to say? Joio. Good madam, let me see your face! Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negociate with my face 2 you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, and shew you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was this present: is't not well done? [Unveiling. Joo. Excellently done, if God did all. Oli. "Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. Pio. "Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy.

Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out diverse schedules of my beauty: it shall be inventoried; and, every particle,and utensil, labelled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chim, and so forth, Were you sent hither to praise me?

Poio. I see you what you are: you are too proud; But, if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you; O, such love Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd The nonpareil of beauty!

Oli. How does he love me?

Joio. With adorations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

Oli. Yourlord does know my mind, I cannot love him:
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth,
In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,
And, in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.

of my message.
Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you
the praise.
Kio. 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.

Pio. No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer-Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady.

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Ol. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office Kio. 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

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Kio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, have I 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.

Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divi

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Qi. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said

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Joio. If I did love you in my master's flame, With such a suffering, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense, I would not understand it. Oli. Why, what would you? Poio. Make me a willow cabin atyour gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night, Holla your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, !}ut you should pity me! Oli. You might do much. What is your parentage 2 Kio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentieman. Oli. Get you to your lord; I cannot love him: let him send no more; Unless, perchance, you come to me again. To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: I thank you for your pains; spend this for me! Poio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse; My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love; And let your servour, like my master's, be Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty! oli. What is your parentage? . Above my fortunes, yet my state is well; I am a gentleman. -- I'll be sworn thou art; - Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Dogive thee five-foldblazon:- Not too fast: — soft soft' Unless the master were the man. — §". now 2

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Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invisible and subtle stealth,
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. —
What, ho, Malvolio !—
Re-enter MAlvolio.
Mal. Here, madam, at your service.
Olt. Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's man: he left this ring behind him,
Would I, or not; tell him, I’ll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him :
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for’t. Hie thee, Malvolio !
Mal. Madam, I will.
O/t. I do I know not what; and fear to find
Mine eye too great a slatterer for my mind.
Fate, shew thy force! Ourselves we do not owe; -
What is decreed, must be; and be this so! (Exit.

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SCI.N.E. I. — The Sea-coast. Enter Axtoxio and S: BAsri AN. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? - Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave, that I may bearmy cvils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in mann.crs the rather to express myself. You must know of me, then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom, I know, you have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so ended but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour hefore you took me from the breach of the sea, was Iny sister drowned. Ant. Alas, the day ! Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resemblrd me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but though I could not, with such estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she hore a mind, that envy could not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I secm to drown her remembrance again with more. Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad cntertainment! 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 dangershall seem sport, and I will go. [Erit. SCENE II. — A street. Enter Viola; MAlvolio following. Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia 7

Joio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might have saved me my paius, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: and one thing more that you be never so hardy to come again in his all airs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. Joio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. Mas. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. | Erit. 1 to 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, so much, That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion Invites ine in this churlish messenger. None of my lord's ring ! why, he sent her none. I am the man!—If it be so, (as 'tis,) Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper-false In women's waxen hearts to set their forms Alas, on r frailty is the cause, not we ; For, such as we are made of, such we be. How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly; And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me: What will become of this As I am man, My state is desperate for my master's love; As I am woman, now alas the day! What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe 2 0 time, thon must untangle this, not I; It is too hard a knot for me to antie. [Exit. SCENE (H.- A room in Olivia's house. ' Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir AN onew Ague-chefk. Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere thou know 'st—— Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up latc. Sir To. A false couciusion; I hate it as an unfilled can. To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is carly ; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements 2 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. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as tie fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Wapiat's posio, the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, ifaith: I sent thee sixpence for thy leman; hadst it 2 - -Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio nose is no whipstock: my lady has a whitehand, the Myrmidons are no bottle—ale houses. Sir 2nd. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when allis done. Now, a song !

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Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight! Sir To. A contagious breath Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, 'faith ! Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed 2 Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that? Sir And..An you love me, let’s do.'t! I am dog at a catch. Clo. By’rlady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou knave. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? A shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight. Str And. 'Tis not the first time l have coustrain’d one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Holdthy peace / Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. Sir And. Good, i'faith ! Come, begin {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! Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we. Am not I consanguineous? an I not of her blood? Tilley-valley,lady! There du'elt a man in Baloylon, lady, lady! - [Singing. Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And, Ay, he does well enough, if he be disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do itmore natural. Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December,-[Singing. Mar. For the love o' God, peace! . Enter MALvoi.10. 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 yesqueak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of Yoice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up ! Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bademe tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours. 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 farewell. Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be orze. Mar. 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 die. Cso. Sir Toby, there you lie. Aful. This is much credit to you. Sir To. Shall I bad him go 2 Clo. //hat an 1/3 ou do? Sir To. S/all I bid him go, and spare not 2 Clo. Ono, no, no, no, you dare not. Sir To. Out o' time 2 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'rti'the right.—Go, sir, rub your chain with crums —A stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favour at anything more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know of it, by this hand. [E.vic. 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; l'll write thee a challenge; or I’ll deliver thy indiguation 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 ine alone with him: if I do not gull him into a mayword, 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 Puritam. 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 anything constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love him ; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. . Sir To. What wilt thou do 2 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 him— self 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 And. I hav't in my nose too. 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. Mar. Ass, I doubt not.

[Singing.

Sir And, O, "twill be admirable !

Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you ! I know, my physic will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter; observe his construction of it. For this might, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell ! [Exit. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea! Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. Sir To. She's a beagle,true-bred,and one that adores me; what o' that? Sir And. I was adored once too. Sir To. Let's to bed, knight!—Thou hadstmeed send for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hasther not i"the end, call me Cut. Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir To. Come, come! I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now : come, knight; come, knight! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.- A room in the Duke's palace. Enter Duke, Viola, Curuo, and others. Duke. Give me some music: – Now, good morrow, friends:—— Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night; Methought it did relieve my passion much; More than light airs and recollected terms, Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:Come, but one verse! Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in ; he is about the house. - Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while ! - [Exit Curio.—Music. Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it remember me! For, such as I am, all true lovers are; Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save, in the constant image of the creature That is belov’d.—How dost thou like this tune? Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat, Where love is thron'd. Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stay’d upon some favour that it loves; Hath it riot, boy? Poio. A little, by your favour. Duke. What o of woman is't? Poio. Of your complexion. Duke. She is not worth thee then. i"Faith ? Pio. About your years, my lord.

Duke. Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take

An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worm,
Than women's are.
Joio. I think it well, my lord.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
orthy affection cannot hold the bent:
For woman are as roses; whose fair flower,
Being once display’d, doth fall that very hour.
Poio. And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, even when they to perfection grow!
Re-enter CURio, and Clown.

Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night!—

Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain: The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,

What year's,

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Duke. There's forthy pains. -
Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
Duke. I’ll pay thy pleasure them.
Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time
or another.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.
Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the
tailor make thy doublet of changeable tallata, for thy
mind is a very opal -I would have men of such con-
stancy put to sea, that their business might be every
thing, and their intent every where; for that's it, that
always makes a good voyage of nothing.—Farewell.
[Exit Clown.
Duke. Letall therest give place.
[Baeunt Curio and attendants.

Once more, Cesario,
Get thee toyon' same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands:
The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
That nature pranks herin, attracts my soul.
Kio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.
Pio. "Sooth, but you must.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as greata pang of heart,
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so : must she not then be answer'd?
Duke. There is no woman's sides,
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lackretention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia!
Pio. Ay, but I know, -
Luke. What dost thou know?

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