Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not? Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. Sir To. Out o'time? sir, ye lie. - Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i'the mouth too. Sir To. Thou'rt i'the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crums: 5 A stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know of it, by this hand. Mar. Go shake your ears. [Exit. Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword", and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know, I can do it. 5 rub your chain with crums:] Stewards anciently wore a chain as a mark of superiority over other servants. And the best method of cleaning any gilt plate, is by rubbing it with crums. rule;] Rule is method of life. 6 7 a nayword,] a byeword. Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight? Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser; an affection'd ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths1: the best persuaded of himself, so cramm'd, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. Sir To. What wilt thou do? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated: I can write very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir And. I have't in my nose too. Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him. 9 1 Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And your horse now would make him an ass. Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable. Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my physick 8 Possess us,] That is, inform us, tell us. an affection'd ass,] Affection'd means affected. great swarths:] A swarth is as much grass or corn as a mower cuts down at one stroke of his scythe. will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter; observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea. 2 Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. [Exit. Sir To. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores me: What o'that? Sir And. I was adored once too. Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.-Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'the end, call me Cut.3 Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight. Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others. Duke. Give me some musick:-Now, good morrow, friends: Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night; Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord, a fool that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Exit CURIO. - Musick. Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: Save, in the constant image of the creature That is belov'd. How dost thou like this tune? Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where Love is thron'd. Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Vio. I think it well, my lord. For women are as roses; whose fair flower, Re-enter CURIO, and Clown. Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth," 8 And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.9 6 7 Clo. Are you ready, sir? Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing. SONG. Clo. Come away, come away, death, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, My part of death no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet, [Musick. My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : -free-] Is, perhaps, artless, free from art. silly sooth,] It is plain, simple truth. 8 And dallies with the-] Plays or trifles. 9 the old age.] The ages past, times of simplicity. The cypress wood, of which coffins were made. |