For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause;
But rather, reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.
Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth.
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.

And so adieu, good madam: never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

Oli. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, may'st move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [Exeunt.
SCENE II-A Room in OLIVIA'S House.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK,
and FABIAN.

Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom: give thy reason. Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed upon me: I saw 't i' the orchard.

Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that.

Sir And. As plain as I see you now.

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason.

Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men since before Noah was a sailor.

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her, and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was baulked the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either of valour, or policy.

Sir And. An't be any way, it must be with valour,

for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brwnoist1 as a politician.

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour: challenge me the count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no lovebroker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman, than report of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew.

Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with the license of ink if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down. Go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. About it. Sir And. Where shall I find you? Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo.

Go. [Exit Sir ANDrew. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad some two thousand strong, or so.

Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him; but you'll not deliver it.

Sir To. Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For sir Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy.

Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty.

Enter MARIA.

Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine

comes.

· Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me. Yond' gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no

1A sect (afterwards the Independents) much ridiculed by the writers of the time.

Christian, that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.

Sir To. And cross-gartered?

Mar. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church.-I have dogged him like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his face into more lines than are in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies'. You have not seen such a thing as 't is; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know, my lady will strike him if she do, he 'll smile, and take 't for a great favour.

Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-A Street.

Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO.

Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you;
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no farther chide you.

Ant. I could not stay behind you my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
And not all love to see you, (though so much,
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage)
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,
Unguided, and unfriended, often prove

Rough and unhospitable: my willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.

Seb.

My kind Antonio,

I can no other answer make, but, thanks,

And thanks, still thanks, and very oft good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay;
But, were my wealth, as is my conscience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?

Ant. To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging.
Seb. I am not weary, and 't is long to night.

I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes

1 A map engraved for Linschoten's Voyages, a translation of which was published in 1598. A portion, showing its many lines, is engraved in "Knight's Pictorial Shakespeare." 2 The words, "still thanks," are not in f. e. 3 ever in f. e. 4 worth: in f. e.

With the memorials, and the things of fame,
That do renown this city.

Ant.

'Would, you'd pardon me :

I do not without danger walk these streets.

Once, in a sea-fight 'gainst the county's galleys
I did some service; of such note, indeed,

That, were I ta’en here, it would scarce be answer'd.
Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people.
Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature,
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel,
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
What we took from them; which, for traffick's sake,
Most of our city did: only myself stood out;
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,

I shall pay dear.

Seb.

Do not, then, walk too open.

Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir; here's my purse. In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,

Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,

Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge, With viewing of the town: there shall you have me. Seb. Why I your purse?

Ant. Haply your eye shall light upon some toy

You have desire to purchase; and your store,

I think, is not for idle markets, sir.

Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for an hour.

Ant. To the Elephant.

Seb. I do remember.

SCENE IV.-OLIVIA'S Garden.

Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.

[Exeunt.

Oli. I have sent after him: he says, he 'll come.

How shall I feast him? what bestow of1 him?

For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borrow'd. I speak too loud.

Where is Malvolio?—he is sad, and civil.'

And suits well for a servant with my fortunes.—
Where is Malvolio?

Mar. He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He is sure possess'd, madam..

Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave?

1 On. 2 Grave and formal.

Mar. No, madam; he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if he come, for sure the man is tainted in 's wits.

Oli. Go call him hither. [Exit MARIA.1]—I am as mad as he,

If sad and merry madness equal be.

Enter MALVOLIO and MARIA.2

How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Sweet lady, ha, ha!

Oli. Smil'st thou?

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

[Smiles ridiculously.

Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad. This does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet hath it, "Please one, and please all."

Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee?

Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow3 in my legs. It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed: I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

Mal. To bed? ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee. Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?

Mar. How do you, Malvolio?

Mal. At your request! Yes; nightingales answer daws.

Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatness:"-T was well writ.

Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?

Mal. "Some are born great,"

Oli. Ha?

Mal. "Some achieve greatness,"

Oli. What say'st thou ?

Mal. "And some have greatness thrust upon them." Oli. Heaven restore thee!

Mal. "Remember, who commended thy yellow stockings ;"

1 Not in f. e. 2 Enter MALVOLIO: in f. e. 3 There was an old ballad-tune, called "Black and Yellow."