Imagens das páginas

Sir To. What, what?

Mai. '— you must amend your drunkenness.' Sir To. Out, scab!

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of out plot.

Mai. 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight: ' — Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.

Mai. '— one Sir Andrew.' — Sir And. I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool.

Mai. What employment have we here?

[Taking up the letter.

Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mai. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her EPs, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

Sir And. Her C's, her EPs, and her T's: why that?

Mai. [Reads.] "To the unknown belov'd, this, and my good wishes:" her very phrases ! — By your leave, wax. — Soft! — and the impressure, her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be?

Fab. This wins him, liver and all.

Mai. [Reads.] "Jove knows, I love:
But who?
Lips, do not move;
No man must know."

"No man must know." —What follows?—the number's alter'd ! — " No man must know." — If this should be thee, Malvolio?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock!

Mai. "/ may command, where I adore:

But silence, like a Lucrece knife,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore;
M, 0, A, I, doth sway my life."

Fab. A fustian riddle!Sir To. Excellent wench, say I.

Mai. "M, 0, A, i, doth sway my life."—Nay, but first, — let me see, — let me see, — let me see.

Fab. What dish o' poison has she dress'd him!Sir To. And with what wing the stanniel checks at it!

Mai. "I may command where I adore." Why, she may command me: I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstruction in this, — And the end, — What should that alphabetical position portend? If I could make that resemble something in me, — Softly ! — M, O, A, I.

Sir To. O, ay! make up that:—he is now at a cold scent.

Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.

Mai. M, — Malvolio ; — M, — why, that begins my name.

Fab. Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.

Mai. M, — But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but 0 does.

Fab. And O shall end, I hope.

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry 0.

Mai. And then I comes behind.

Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.

Mai. M, 0, A, I: — This simulation is not as the former: and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft, here follows prose: —

"If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars 1 am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some hove greatness 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 kinsman, surly with servants: let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wish'd to see thee ever cross-garter'd: I say, remember. Go to; thou art made, if thou desir'st 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."

Daylight and champaign 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-garter'd; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I Vol. v. M

thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-garter'd, 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 1 am. If thou entertain'st my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, Ipr'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.

Si ' 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. Y 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-vitae 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-garter'd — 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.

Sir And. I'll make one too. [Exeunt.


Scene I. — Olivia's Garden.
Enter Viola, and Clown with a Tabor.


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 lives 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 chev'ril 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.

« AnteriorContinuar »