Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

coxcomb, and a knave? a thin-faced knave, a Vio. And all those sayings will I over guli?

to.

Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd

[Exeunt CLOWN, Sir TCBY, and Sir ANDREW.]

Enter SEBASTIAN.

Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your
kinsman;

But had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less, with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon ine, and
By that I do perceive it hath offended you;
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.

Duke. One face, oue voice, oue habit,
two persons;

A natural perspective, that is, and is not.
Scb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio !

How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,
Since I have lost thee.

Ant. Sebastian are you?

Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio?

swear;

And all those swearings keep as true in soul,
As doth that orbed continent the fire
That severs day from night.

Duke. Give me thy hand;

And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on
shore,

Hath my maid's garments; he, upon some
action,

Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit,

A gentleman and follower of my lady's.

Oli. He shall enlarge him :-Fetch Malvolio hither:

And yet, alas, now I remember me,

and They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.
Re-enter CLOWN, with a letter.

A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.-
How does he, sirrah?

Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end, as well as a man in his case may

Ant. How have you made division of your-do: he has here writ a letter to you, I should

self?

An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin

Than these two creatures.

Oli. Most wonderful! Seb. Do I stand there? ther:

Which is Sebastian?

I never had a bro

Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have de-
your'd:-

[ocr errors]

Of charity, what kin are you to me?

[TO VIOLA. What countryman? what name? what parentage?

Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit
You come to fright us.

Seb. A spirit I am, indeed;
But am in that dimension grossly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say,-Thrice welcome, drowned Viola !
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And so had mine.

Vio. And died that day when Viola from her

birth

Had number'd thirteen years.

Seb. O that record is lively in my soul
He finished, indeed, his mortal act,
That day that made my sister thirteen years.
Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both,
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump,
That I am Viola: which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,

have given it you to-day morning; but as a
madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills
not much, when they are delivered.
Oli. Open it, aud read it.

Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman :-By the lord, madam.

Oti. How now! art thou mad!

Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox. *

Oli. Pr'ythee, read i'thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right princess, and give ear. wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, tiny

[TO FABIAN.

Oli. Read it, you sirrah. Fab. [Reads.] By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into dar ness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury, The madly-us'd MALVOLIO.

Oli. Did he write this ?
Clo. Ay, madam.

Duke. This savours not much of distraction.
Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring bin
[Exit FABIAN.

hither.

My lord, so please you, these things further

thought on,

To think me as well a sister as a wife,

One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you,

Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

help

[blocks in formation]

Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.

Your master quits you:

[TO VIOLA.] and, for your service done him,

So much against the mettle of your sex,
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,
And since you call'd me master for so long,
Here is my hand; you shall from this time be
Your master's mistress.

Oli. A sister? you are she.

Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO.
Duke. Is this the madman ?
Oli. Ay, my lord, this same :
How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Madam, you have done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no.

Clo. Why, some are born great, some achieve

Mal. Lady vou have. Pray you, peruse that greatness, and some have greatness thrown letter ;

You must not now deny it is your hand,
Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase;
Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor your invention:
You can say none of this: Well grant it then,
And tell me in the modesty of honour,

Why you have given me such clear lights of
favour:

Bade me come smiling, and cross-garter'd to
you,

To put on yellow stockings, and to frown
Upon Sir Toby, and the lighter people:
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffered me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck, and gull,
That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why.

Oli. Alas! Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Though I confess, much like the character:
Bet, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was she

First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in
smiling,

And in such forms which here were presuppos'd
Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee, be content:
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon

thee;

But, when we know the grounds and authors
of it,

Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Of thine own cause.

Fab. Good madam, hear me speak;
And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come,
Taint the condition of this present hour.
Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confess, myself and Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
We had conceiv'd against him: Maria writ
The letter, at Sir Toby's great importance; t
In recompense whereof, he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd,
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge;
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd,
That have on both sides past.

Oli. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffied §
thee!

• Infurior. ↑ Fool. * Importunacy.

Cheated.

[ocr errors]

upon them. I was one, Sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, Sir; but that's all one :-By the Lord, jool, I am not mad;-But do you remember? Matam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagg'd: And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

Mal. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of
you.
[Exit.
Oli. He bath been most notorionsly abus'd.
Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to a
peace :-

He hath not told us of the captain yet;
When that is known, and golden time convents, ⚫
A solemn combination shall be made
Of our dear souls-Mean time, sweet sister,
We will not part from hence.-Cesario, come;
For so you shall be while you are a man;
But, when in other habits you are seen,
Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen.

SONG.

[Exeunt.

Clo. When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knave and thief men shut their
gate,

For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came, alas! to wive,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came unto my bed,

With hey, ho, the wind and the ruin,
With toss-pots still had drunken head,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.
Brit.

• Shall servu.

[graphic][graphic][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][graphic][merged small][merged small][graphic][graphic][merged small][merged small]

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE.

THE fable of this play, (written in 1598,) is taken from a novel of which Boccace is the original author; but it is more than probable that our poet read it in a book called The Palace of Pleasure; a collection of novels translated from different authors, by one William Painter, 1566, 4to. Shakspeare has only borrowed from the novel a few leading circumstances in the graver parts of the drama: the comic characters are entirely of his own formation: one of them, Parolles, a boaster and a coward, is the sheet-anchor of the piece. The plot is not sufficiently probable. Some of the scenes are forcibly written, whilst others are impoverished and unin teresting. The moral of the play may be correctly ascertained from Dr. Johnson's estimate of the character of Bertram: "I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram ; a man noble without generosity, and young without truth; who marries Helena as a coward, and leaves her as a profligate: when she is dead, by his unkindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is accused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness."

KING OF FRANCE.

DUKE OF FLORENCE.

BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon.

LAPEU, an old Lord.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram.
Several young French Lords, that serve with
Bertram in the Florentine war.
STEWARD, Servants to the Countess of Rou-
CLOWN,

A PAGE.

sillon.

COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, Mother to Bertram.
HELENA, a Gentlewoman protected by the
Countess.

An Old Widow of Florence.
DIANA, Daughter to the Widow.
VIOLENTA, Neighbours and Friends to the
MARIANA, Widow.

Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Sol-
diers, &c. French and Florentine.

SCENE-Partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Rousillon.-A Room in the
Countess' Palace.

Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of ROUSILLON,
HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning.
Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a
second husband.

Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward,⚫ evermore in subjection.

Luf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ;-you, Sir, a father: He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (Oh! that had!t how sad a passage 'tis !) whose

The heirs of great fortunes were always the king's

wards.

+ The countess recollects her o vn loss of a husband, and observes how heavily had passes through her mind.

skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it
stretched so far, it would have made nature im-
mortal, and death should have play for lack of
work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were liv.
disease.
ing!
I think, it would be the death of the king's
Laf. How called you the man you speak of,
madam?

Count. He was famous, Sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ?

Count. His sole child, my lord: and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer: for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in

Qualities of good breeding and erudition,

« AnteriorContinuar »