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Enter Olivia and Malvolio.
Re-enter Maria. Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fool Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gening! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very tleman, much desires to speak with you. ost prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, Oli. From the count Orsino, is it? may pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapa- Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, lus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.-God and well attended. bless thee, lady!
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Oli. Take the fool away.
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nolady.
thing but podmani te anbitcometrie Maria
: 1 Go Oli. Go to, you are a dry fool; I'll no more of you, Malvolio ; if it be a suit from the count, you: besides, you grow dishonest.
sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. Clo. Two faults, madonna,' that drink and good [Erit Malvolio.] Now you see, sir, how your foulcounsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, ing grows old, and people dislike it. then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest mend *Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram he cannot, let the botcher mend him: any thing, with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has that's mended, is but patched: virtue, that trans- a most weak pia mater. gresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue: if that this
Enter Sir Toby Belch. simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy As there is no true cuckold but calamity,
Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he so beauty's a flower :- the lady bade take away the
at the gate, cousin ?
Sir 10. A gentleman.
Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
Sir To. "Tis a gentleman here-A plague o Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as
Clo. Good sir Toby, o say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.
Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early Oli. Can you do it?
by this lethargy?
Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: there's one at Clo. Dexterously, good madonna. Oli. Make your proof. Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna; good
. Ay, marry; what is he?
Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care my mouse of virtue, answer me. oli. Well
, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. "bide your proof.
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ? Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou ?
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madOli. Good fool, for my brother's death. Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna.
man: one draught above heat makes him a fool ; Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
the second mads him; and a third drowns him. Clo . The more fool you, madonna, to mourn
for sit o' my coz ; for he's in the third degree of drink,
Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let hirr your brother's soul being in heaven.—Take away he's drown'd? go, look after him. the fool, gentlemen. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth shall look to the madman.
Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool he not mend?
[Exit Clown. Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death
Re-enter Malvolio. shake bim: 'infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.
Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he wil Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for speak with you.' I told him you were sick ; he takes the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be on him to understand so much, and therefore comes sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass his to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he word for two-pence that you are no fool. seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio?
therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more Mal. He has been told so: and he says, he'l. brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the guard already: unless you laugh and minister oc- supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. casion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these Oli. What kind of man is he? wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, Mal. Why, of man kind. no better than the fools' zanies. ?
Oli. What'manner of man? Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and Mal. Of very ill manner : he'll speak with you taste with a distem pered appetite. To be generous, will you, or no. guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he? things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bul- Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young lets : there is no slander in an allowed fool, though enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peashe do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known cod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. with him een standing water, between boy and
Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing," man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks for thou speakest well of fools !
very shrewishly; one would think, his mcther's
milk were scarce out of him. (1) Ilalian, mistress, dame. (2) Fools' baubles. (3) Short arrows. (4) Lying.
(5) The cover of the brain.
Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman. Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be
Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first ot Oli. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my his heart. face;
Oli. O, I have read it ; it is heresy. Have you We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy
no more to say ?
Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.
Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to
negociate with my face? you are now out of your Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you is she?
the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your this present :: is't not well done? [Unceiling. will ?
Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable
Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and beauty,– pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of weather. the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent," whose red and cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excel
white lently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, very comptible,' even to the least sinister usage. If you will lead these graces to the grave, Oli. Whence came you, sir ?
And leave the world no copy. Vio. I can say little more than I have studied,
Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will and that question's out of my part. Good gentle give out 'divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, laof the house, that I may proceed in my speech. belled to my will: as, item, two lips indifferent red; Oli. Are you a comedian ?
item, two grey eyes, with lids to them ; item, one Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, þy the neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. hither to 'praise me? Are you the lady of the house?
Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud: oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.
But, if you were the devil, you are fair. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp My lord and master loves you; 0, such love yourself
; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours Could but be recompens’d, though you were to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will
crown'd on with my speech in your praise, and then show The nonpareil of beauty! you the heart of my message.
How does he love me? Oli. Come to what is importart in't: I forgive Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, you the praise.
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot 'tis poetical.
love him : Oli. It is the more like to be seigned, I pray you Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates: of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, gone ; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that A gracious person? but yet I cannot love him ; time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping He might have took his answer long ago. a dialogue.
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way. With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
Vio. No, good swabber: I am to húll here a In your denial I would find no sense, little longer. --Some mollification for your giani,' I would not understand it. sweet lady.
Why, what would you Oli. Tell me your mind.
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Vio. I am a messenger.
And call upon my soul within the house; Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- Write loyal cantons of contemned love, liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak And sing them loud even in the dead of night,
Holla your name to the reverberate' hilis, Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no And make the babbling gossip of the air overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace Between the elements of air and earih,
But you should pity me. Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? oli. You might do much: What is your pareri what would you ?
age? Vio. The rudeness that hath appear'd in me, Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is we!! : have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, I am a gentleman. and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to
Get you to your lord; your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation. I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this Unless, perchance, you come to me again, divinity. (Exit Maria. Now; sir, what is your text? To tell me ho takes it. Fare you well: Vio. Most sweet lady,
(3) Presents. (4) Blended, mixed together (1) Accountable.
(5) Well spoken of by the world. (2) it appears from several parts of this play,
17) Echoing. that the original actress of Maria was very short) (6) Cantos, verses.
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with
Vio. I am no fee'd post,' lady ; keep your purse; salt water, though I seem to drown her remem
Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. (Exit. Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let Oli. What is your parentage ?
me be your servant. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :
Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, I am a gentleman.—I'll be sworn thou art; that is, kill him whom you have recorered, desire Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of Do give thee five-fold blazon: -Not too fast: kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my soft! soft!
mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine Unless the master were the man.-How now? eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Even so quickly may one catch the plague ? count Orsino's court: farewell.
[Erit. Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! With an invisible and subtle stealth,
I have many enemies in Orsino's court, To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. Else would I very shortly see thee there : What, ho, Malvolio !
But, come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. (Erit. Re-enter Malvolio.
SCENE II.A street. Enter Viola ; Malvolio Mal.
Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,
following The county'su man: he left this ring behind him, Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Would I, or not: tell him, I'll none of it.
Olivia ? Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him : since arrived but hither. If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. have saved me my pains, to have taken it away Mal. Madam, I will.
(Exit. yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find your lord into a desperate assurance she will none Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind, of him: and one thing more; that you be never Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe;' so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to What is decreed, must be; and be this so! [Exit. report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.
Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it.
Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her ;
and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be ACT II.
worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, SCENE 1.—The sea-coast. Enter Antonio and be it his that finds it.
Vio. I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! Int. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not, She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine dark
tongue, ly over me: the malignancy of my fate might, For she did speak in starts distractedly. perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone : Invites me in this churlish messenger. it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. of them on you.
I am the man;-if it be so (as 'tis,) Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are Poor lady, she were better love a dream. bound.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Seb. No, ’sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is Wherein the pregnante enemy does much. facre extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- How easy is it, for the proper-false" cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we; it charges me in manners the rather to express For, such as we are made of, such we be. myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my How will this fadge ? My master loves her dearly. name is Sebastian, which I called Rodrigo; my And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom 1 And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me: know, you have heard of: he left behind him, What will become of this ! As I am man, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the My state is desperate for my master's love; heavens had been pleased, 'would we had selAs I am woman, now alas the day! ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour What thristless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ? before you took me from the breach of the sea, was o time, thou must untangle this, not I; my sister drowned.
It is too hard a knot for me to untie. (Exil. Anl. Alas, the day!
SCENE III.A room in Olivia's house. Enter Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much
Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-check. resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not, with such estimable Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could surgere, thou know'st,
(1) Messenger. (2) Proclamation of gentility. (6) Dexterous, ready fiend.
(5) Reveal.] (7) Fair deceiver. (8) Suit.
Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I. Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou know, to be up late, is to be up late.
knave. Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an un Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall filled can: to be up aller midnight, and to go to be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight. Ld then, is early; so that, to go to bed after mid Sir And, 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd risht, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, consist of the four elements ?
Hold thy peace. Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it
Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. rather consists of eating and drinking.
Sir And. Good, i'faith! Come, begin. Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat
[They sing a catch. and drink.–Maria, I say !-a stoop of wine !
Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.
If my lady have not called up her steward, MalvoClo. How now, my hearts ? Did you never see lio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust the picture of we thrée ?'
Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians;
Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey," and Three merry men breast.? I had rather than forty shillings I had such we be. Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool blood? Tilly-valley, lady! There dwelt a man in has. 'In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling Babylon, lady, lady?
(Singing. last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus ; fooling, 'twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disthy leman a hadst it ?
posed, and so do I too; he does it with a better °Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity;" for Malvo- grace, but I do it more natural. rio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December,hand, and the myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.
[Singing. Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool Mar. For the love of God, peace. ing, when all's done. Now, a song. Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you:
Enter Malvolio. let's have a song.
Sir And. There's a testril of me too : if one Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are knight give a
Jyou? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of to gabble like tinkers at this time of night'? Do good life?
ye make an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.
squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitiSir And. Ay, ay; I'care not for good life. gation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of SONG.
place, persons, nor time, in you?
Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? Sneck up !10 0, stay and hear; your true love's coming, Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My
That can sing both high and low : lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours Trip no further, pretty sweeting ;
you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
disorders. If you can separate yourself and your Every wise man's son doth knoro. misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith.
not, an it would please you to take leave of her, Sir To. Good, good.
she is very willing to bid you farewell.
Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs
Mar. Nay, good sir Toby.
Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done.
Mal. Is't even so ?
Sir To. But I will never die.
Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.
Mal. This is much credit to you. knight.
Sir To. Shall I bid him go ?
(Singing, Sir To. A contagious breath.
Clo. What an if you do? Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.
Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spure not ? Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in con Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. tagion. But shall we make the welkin dances in
Sir To. Out o'time? sir, ye lie.-Art any more deed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou ar: that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? we do that?
Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog hot i’ the mouth too. at a catch.
Sir To. Thou’rt i’ the right.-Go, sir, rub your Clo. By’r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch chain") with crums :-a stoop of wine, Maria ! well.
Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's fa
vour at any thing more than contempt, you would (1) Loggerheads be. (2) Voice. (3) Mistress. 14) I did impetticoat thy gratuity.
(8) Equivalent to filly fally, shilly shally. (5) Drink till the sky turns round.
(9) Cobblers. (10) Hang yourself. 6) Romancer. (7) Name of an old song. (11) Stewards anciently wore a chain.
not give means for this uncivil rule;' she shalll. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast know of it, by this hand.
[Exit. her not i’ the end, call me Cut." Mar. Go shake your ears.
Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how Sir And. "Twere as good a deed as to drink you will
Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field ; and then to break promise with him, and 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come.
knight. make a fool of him.
[Exeunt. Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a chal- SCENE IV.-A room in the Duke's palace. Enlenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by
ler Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. word of mouth.
Duke. Give me some music: Now, good morMar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night;
row, friends :since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Mal- Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, volio, let me alone with him : if I do not gull him That old and antique song we heard last night; into a nay-word, and make him a common recrea: More than light airs and recollected terms,
Methought, it did relieve my passion much; tion, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :in my bed : I know I can do it.
Come, but one verse. Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us some
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, thing of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Pu- that should sing it.
Duke. Who was it ? ritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like
Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool, that the
lady Olivia's father took much delight in : he is a dog.
about the house. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy exqui
Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. site dear knight?
[Exit Curio.-Music. have reason good enough. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing For, such as I am, all true lovers are ;
In the sweet pangs of it remember me: constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectionedi ass, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, that cons state without book, and utters it by great Save, in the constant image of the creature swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so cram- That’is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune ? med, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on him, love him; Where love is thron'd.
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat and on that vice in him will my revenge find nota
Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: ble cause to work. Sir To. What wilt thou do?
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epis- Hath it not, boy ?
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves; tles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the
A little, by your favour. shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expres
Duke. What kind of woman is’t ? sure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall
Of your complexion. find himself most feelingly personated : I can write Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years, very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten mat
i'faith? ter we can hardly make distinction of our hands.
Vio. About your years, my lord. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device.
Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the womar Sir And. I hav't in my nose too.
take Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou An elder than herself; so wears she to him, wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that So sways she level in her husband's heart; she is in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
I think it well, my lord. Mar. Ass, I doubt not.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Sir And. 0, 'twill be admirable. Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you; I know, my For women are as roses; whose fair flower,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: physic will work with him. I will plant you two, Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. and let the fool make a third, where he shall find
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so; the letter ; observe his construction of t. For this To die, even when they to perfection grow! night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell.
Re-enter Curio, and Olown. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea.
Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.
night :Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain : adores me; What o' that?
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun Sir And. I was adored once too.
And the free maids, that weave their thread with Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. - Thou hadst need
bones, send for more money.
Douse to chaunt it; it is silly sooth," Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a And dallies with the innocence of love, foul way out.
Like the old age." (1) Method of life. (2) By-word. (3) Inform us. (6) Amazon. (7) Horse. (8) Countenance. (4) Affected.
(9) Lace makers. (10) Simple truth. (5) The row of grass left by a mower.
?11) Times of simplicity.