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Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high-fantastical.*

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?
Duke. What, Curio ?
Cur. The hart.

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought, she purged the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E’er since pursue me.-How now? what news from her ?

Enter VALENTINE.
Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years heat,t
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting, in her sad remembrance.

Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all aflections else
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
(Her sweet perfections), with one self-same king !--
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Ilove-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Sea-coast.

Enter VIOLA, CAPTAIN, and Sailors.
Vio. What country, friends, is this?
Cap. Illyria, lady.
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria ?
My brother, he is in Elysium.
Perchance, he is not drown'd:-What think you, sailors ?

Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
Vio. O, my poor brother! and so, perchance, may he be.

Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number saved with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea,
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could see.
* Fantastical to the height.

Heated.

Vio. For saying so, there's gold:
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country?

Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not three hours' travel from this very place.

Vio. Who governs here?

Cap. A noble duke, in nature,
As in name.

Vio. What is his name?
Cap. Orsino.
Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him:
He was a bachelor then.

Cap. And so is now,
Or was so very late; for but a month
Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh
In murmur (as you know, what great ones do,
The less will prattle of), that he did seek
The love of fair Olivia.

Vio. What's she?

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count,
That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died : for whose dear love,
They say she hath abjured the company
And sight of men.

Vio. O, that I served that lady:
And might not be deliver'd to the world,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is.

Cap. That were hard to compass;
Because she will admit no kind of suit;
No, not the duke's.

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously
Conceal me what I am; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. * P'll serve this duke;
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of music,
That will allow* me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see
Dio. I thank thee: Lead me on.

* Approve.

[Exeunt SCENE III.-A Room in Olivia's House.

Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's an enemy to life.

Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted.

Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.

Mar. That quafing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her wooer.

Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?
Mar. Ay, he.
Sir To. He's as tall* a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to the purpose ?
Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.

Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal.

Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the vio-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages, word for word, without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.

Mar. He hath, indeed,-almost natural: for, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.

Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and subtractors, that say so of him. Who are they?

Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company.

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a coward and a coystrilt that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe, like a parish top. What wench ? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face.

Enter SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch ? Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew ! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Mar. And you too, Sir. Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. Sir And. What's that? Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, Sir. * Stort,

+ Keystril, a bastard hawk.

Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,

Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her.

Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost ?

Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.

Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew; would thou mightst never draw sword again.

Sir And. An you 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 hand.

Mar. Now, Sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink.

Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your metaphor ? Mar. It's dry, Sir.

Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?

Mar. A dry jest, Sir. 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.

Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.

Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight?

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: 0, had I bút 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 oʻthe count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tút, 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

man.

degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old
Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.

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 thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a 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 flamecoloured 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 known you but three
days, and already you are no stranger.

Vio. You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you
call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant,
Sir, in his favours ?
Val. No, believe me.

Enter DUKE, Curio, and Attendants.
Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.
Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ?
Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.-Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul:
Therefore, good youth, address thy gaitI unto her;
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; What then ?

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