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SCENE IX.

Enter Maria.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Sir To. Wilt thou fet 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-flave?

Sir And. I'faith, or I either ?

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in fuch a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.

Mar. Nay, but fay true, does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aquavita with a midwife.

Mar. If you will then fee the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: he will come to her in yellow ftockings, and 'tis a colour fhe abhors; and cross-garter'd, a fafhion fhe detests; and he will fmile upon her, which will now be fo unfuitable to her difpofition, being addicted to a melancholy, as fhe is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will fee it, follow me.

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

Sir And. I'll make one too.

[Exeunt.

ACT III..

SCENE I.

SA

Olivia's Garden.

Enter Viola and Clown.

Viola.

Ave thee, friend, and thy mufic. Doft thou live by thy tabor?

+ Mr Stevens fuppofes tray-trip to have been a game then in fashion.

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Clo. No, Sir, I live by the church.

Vio. Art thou a churchman?

Clo. No fuch matter, Sir; I do live by the church; for I do live at my house, and my house doth ftand by the church.

Vio. So thou may't fay the king lyes by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or the church tands by thy tabor, if thy tabor ftand by the church.

Clo. You have said, Sir. To fee this age!A fentence is but a chev'ril glove* to a good wit; how quickly the wrong fide 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 fifter had had no name, Sir.

Vio. Why, man?

Clo. Why, Sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word,, might make my fifter wanton: but indeed words are very rascals, fince bonds.difgrac'd them.

Vio. Thy reason, man?

Clo. Troth, Sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown fo false, I am loth to prove reason with them.

Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and careft for nothing.

Clo. Not fo, Sir, I do care for fomething; but, in my confcience, 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; fhe will keep no fool, Sir, 'till fhe be married; and fools are as like hufbands, as pilchers are to herrings; the hufband's the bigger. I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words. Vio. I faw thee late at the Duke Orfino's

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Clo. Foolery, Sir, does walk about the orb like

A glove made of a kid's skin.

the fun; it fhines every where. I would be forry, Sir, but the fool fhould be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think I saw your wifdom there.

Vio: Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, fend thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almoft fick 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? Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, Sir, to bring a Creffida to this Troilus.

Vio. I understand you, Sir; 'tis well begg’d.

Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, Sir; begging but a beggar: Creilida was a beggar. My lady is within, Sir; I will conster to them whence you come who you are, and what you would, is out of my welkin; I might say element; but the word is over-worn. [Exit.

Vio This fellow is wife enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit He must obferve their mood on whom he jefts, The quality of the perfons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice As full of labour as a wife man's art :

For folly, that he wifely fhews, is fit;

But wife men's folly fall'n *, quite taints their wit.

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Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Save you, gentleman.

Vio. And you, Sir.

Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.

Vio. Et vous auffi; votre ferviteur.

Sir To. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours..

* Folly fhewn. Hanmer.

Will you encounter the house? my niece is defirous you fhould enter, if your trade be to her.

Vio. I am bound to your niece, Sir; I mean, fhe is the lift of my voyage.

Sir To. Tafte your legs, Sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, Sir, than I understand 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.

Moft excellent accomplish'd lady, the heav'ns rain odours on you!

Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! rain odours? well.

Vio. My matter hath no voice, Lady, but to your own moft pregnant and vouchfafed ear.

Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchfafed!I'll get 'em all three ready.

Oli. Let the garden door be fhut, and leave me to my hearing.

[Excunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. SCENE

Give me your hand, Sir.

III.

Vio. My duty, Madam, and moft humble fervice. Oli. What is your name?

Vio. Cefario is your fervant's name, fair Princefs. Oli. My fervant, Sir? 'Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment ; Y' are servant to the Duke Orfino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your fervant's fervant is your fervant, Madam.

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 fpeak again of him. But would you undertake another fuit,

I'd rather hear you to follicit that,

Than music from the spheres.

Vio. Dear Lady.

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did fend,
After the last enchantment, (you did hear),
A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse
Myfelf, my fervant, and, I fear me, you:
Under your hard construction must I fit,

To force that on you in a fhameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?

Have you not fet mine honour at the stake,

And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your
*
receiving

Enough is fhewn; a cyprus †, not a bofom,
Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you speak.
Vio. I pity you.

Oli. That's a degree to love.

Vio. No, not a grice; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies.

Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to fmile again; O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one fhould be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion, than the wolf! [Clock Strikes. The clock upbraids me with the wafte of time. Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you; And yet when wit and youth are come to harvest, . Your wife is like to reap a proper man. There lyes your way, due weft.

Vio. Then weftward hoe:

Grace and good difpofition attend your Ladyfhip;
You'll nothing, Madam, to my Lord by me
me?
Oli. Stay; pr'ythee tell me what thou think'ft

of me?

Vio. That you do think you are not what you are.
Oli. If I think fo, I think the fame of you.
Vio. Then think you right, I am not what I am.
Oli. I would you were as I would have you be !

i. e. To one of your ready apprehenfion. Warburten...
A cyprus is a tranfparent ftuff. Johnson..

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