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 ano ther jest. Sir And. Nor I neither. Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. Re-enter MARIA. 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 crossgartered, 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, (26) thou most excellent devil of wit! Sir And. I'll make one too. [Exeunt. : ! ! ACT III. 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. 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 mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, 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. 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 loth 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 pilchers 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 every where. 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? Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged. 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 (27) 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 is 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 ; Not, (28) like the haggard, check at every feather 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.(29) Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEK. Sir To. Save you, gentleman. 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 To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is de sirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Vio. 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. Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I under stand 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! well. Sir And. That youth 's a rare courtier : "Rain odours:" 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 all ready. Oli. Let the garden-door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria.] Give me your hand, sir. Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment: Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: 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: I had rather hear you to solicit that Than music from the spheres. Oli. Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, 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 Enough is shown: a cyprus, not a bosom, That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving 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, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one should be a prey, how much the better * [Clock strikes. The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: Your wife is like to reap a proper man : There lies your way, due west. Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship! 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 Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon. Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, |