Duke.
And what's her history?
Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Clo. Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it;

My part of death no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my

black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too;-and yet I know not :Sir, shall I to this lady?"

Duke.

Ay, that's the theme. My poor corpse, where my bones shall be To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay.

thrown;

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, 0, where

Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,
To weep there.

Duke. There's for thy pains.

Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.

[Exeunt. SCENE V.-Olivia's Garden. Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian. Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?

Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here.

and we will fool him black and blue:-Shall we Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again;

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee;
and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taf
men of such constancy put to sea, that their busi-
feta, for thy mind is a very spal-I would have
ness might be every thing, and their intent every
where; for that's it, that always makes a good not, sir Andrew?
voyage of nothing.-Farewell. [Exit Clown.
Duke. Let all the rest give place.

[Exeunt Curio and attendants.
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.
Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.

Vio.
'Sooth, but you must.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her:
You tell her so; Must she not then be answer'd?
Duke. There's is no woman's sides,
Can 'bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,-
No motion of the liver, but the palate,-
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,

And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter Maria.

Sir To. Here comes the little villain:-How now, my nettle of India.

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder i' the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.

Enter Malvolio.

[Exit Maria.

Maria

Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune.
once told
me, she did affect me: and I have heard
herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it
should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses
me with a more exalted respect, than any one else
that follows her. What should I think on't?
Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue!
Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare
turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his ad-
vanced plumes!

Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue :-
Sir To. Peace, I say.

Mal. To be count Malvolio!

Sir To. Ah, rogue!

Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.

Sir To. Peace, peace!

Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel!

Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows him!

(a)Decks.

1

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,1

Sir To. 0, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping.

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!
Fab. O, peace, peace!

Mal. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.-Nay, but first, let me see,-let me sec,-let me see. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him! Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel checks at it!

Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There Mal. And then to have the humour of state: is no obstruction in this;-And the end,-What and after a demure travel of regard,-telling them, should that alphabetical position portend? if 1 I know my place, as I would they should do their's could make that resemble something in me,-to ask for my kinsman Toby: Softly! M, O, A, I.—

Sir To. Bolts and shackles!

Sir To. O, ay! make up that:-he is now at a cold scent.

Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.

Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: frown the while; and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me: name. Sir To. Shall this fellow live?

Mal. M,-Malvolio ;-M,-why, that begins my

Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cur is excellent at faults. cars, yet peace.

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control: Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then?

Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech:

Sir To. What, what?

Mal. You must amend your drunkenness.
Sir To. Out, scab!

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.

Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight;

Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.

Mal. One sir Andrew:

Mal. M,-But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does.

Fab. And O shall end, I hope.

Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O.

Mal. And then I comes behind;

Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you.

Mal. M, O, A, I;-This simulation is not as the former :-and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose.—If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: Some are oorn great, some achieve greatness, and some have great

Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me ness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their

fool.

hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. Mal. What employment have we here? And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, [Taking up the letter. cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opFab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. posite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into intimate reading aloud to him! the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, Mal. By my life, that is my lady's hand: these that sighs for thee. Remember who commended be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of cross-gartered: I say remember. Go to; thou art question, her hand. made if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: Why thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She Mal. [reads] To the unknown beloved, this, and that would alter services with thee, my good wishes: her very phrases! By your leave, The fortunate-unhappy ; wax-Soft!-and the impressure her Lucrece, Day light and champain discovers not more: this with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, whom should this be?

that?

Fab. This wins him, liver and all.
Mal. [reads] Jove knows, I love:

But who?

Lips do not move,

No man must know.

I will baffle sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice," the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crossgartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised!-Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee,

Jove, I thank thee.-I will smile; I will do every Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and thing that thou wilt have me. carest for nothing.

[Exil.
a

Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device.

Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest.

Enter Maria.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fao. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?
Sir And. Or o' mine either?

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip,' and become thy bond-slave?

Sir And. I'faith, or I either.

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.

Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aqua-vita with a midwife. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me.

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

Sir And. I'll make one too.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool?

Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's.

Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think, I saw your wisdom

there.

with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee.
Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

to

Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir,
bring a Cressida to this Troilus.

Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd.
Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, beg-
ging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My
lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence
you come: who you are, and what you would, are
out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the
word is over-worn.
[Erit.

Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool,
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;

SCENE I.-Olivia's Garden. Enter Viola, and And, like the haggard, check at every feather

Clown with a tabor.

Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music:

thou live by thy tabor?

Clo. No, sir, I live by the church.

Vio. Art thou a churchman?

That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art:

Dost For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;

Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies? by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.

Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age!-A sentence is but a cheveril' glove to a good wit; How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!

Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton.

Clo. I would therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.

Vio. Why, man?

But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague
cheek.

Sir To. Save you, gentleman.
Vio. And you, sir.

Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi : votre serviteur.

Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage.

Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than understand what you mean by bidding me taste ¡my legs.

I

Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance: with that word, might make my sister wanton: But we are prevented. But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds| disgraced them.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Raia odours! well.

(4) See the play of Troilus and Cressida.
(5) A hawk not well trained. (6) Bound, limit.

Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon own most pregnant' and vouchsafed ear.

Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:I'll get 'em all three ready.

Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.

[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, sir.

Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service.
Oli. What is your name?

Vio. Cæsario is your servant's name, fair princess.
Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be

Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon.
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,

I

By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride.
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
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,
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.

I

Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may`st

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 jest, 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. And't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist, 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 love-broker 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 chal lenge to him?

Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be

(5) Separatists in quean. Elizabeth's reign.
(6) Crabbed,

eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night; the license of irk: if thou thou'st him some thrice, I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie With the memorials, and the things of fame, in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big That do renown this city. 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 manikin 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 An- I drew, 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.

Ant.

"Would, you'd pardon me ;
I do not without danger walk these streets :
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys,
I did some service; of such note, indeed,
That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be an-
swer'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 traffic sake,
Most of our city did: only myself stood out:
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,
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 know-
ledge,

With viewing of the town; there shall you have me.
Seb. Why I your purse?

Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Mal-You have desire to purchase; and your store, volio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there I think, is not for idle markets, sir. is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages An hour. of grossness. He's in yellow stockings. Sir To. And cross-gartered?

Ant.
Seb.

To the Elephant.

I do remember.

[Exeunt.

and Maria.

Oli. I have sent after him: He says, he'll come; How shall I feast him? what bestow on him?

Mar. Most villanously; 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 SCENE IV.-Olivia's Garden. Enter Olivia 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 'tis; 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 Antonio and Sebastian.

Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you;|
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further 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, and ever thanks: Often good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
But, were my worth, 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.

(1) In Hertfordshire, which held forty persons.
(2) Chamber.
(3) Wagon ropes.

For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or bor-
row'd.
speak too loud.

I
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 strange manner. He is sure possess'd.
Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave?
Mar.
No, madam

He does nothing but smile: your ladyship
Were best have guard about you, if he come;
For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits.

Oli. Go call him hither.-I'm as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.—
Enter Malvolio.

How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho! [Smiles fantastically.
Oli. Smil'st thou?

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

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

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

Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow in

(4) Wealth. (5) Caught.

Grave and demure.

(7) Grave.