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Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following: Mal. Were not you oven now with the Coun. tess Olivia ?

Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. Mal. She returns this ring to you,

Sir ; you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself.

She adds moreover, should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: And one thing more; that you be never so hardy to come again in his af. fairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Fieceive it so.

Vio. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it.

Mal. Come, Sir, yon peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returu'd: if it bc worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his' that finds it.

[Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her: What means this lady? Forinne forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! She made good view of me; indeed, so much, That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me, stre; the cunning of her passion Invites me in this churlish messenger. None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. I am the man; If it be so, (as 'tis) Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disgnise, I sec, thou art a wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it, for the proper-false In women's waxen hearts to set their forms !

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Alas, our frailty is the canse, not we;
For, such as 'we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadye? My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on ne :
What will become of this ? As I, am, man,
My state is desperate for my master's love;
As I am woman, now alas the day!
What thriftless siglos shall poor Olivia breathc ?
o time, thou must uutangle this, n0t I;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [Exit.

1

SCENE III.

-4 Room in Olivia's House. Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW AGUE

CHEEK.. Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st,

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an un. fillid can: To be up after midnighi, and to go to bed then, is early ; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements ?

Sir And. 'Taith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.

Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink, Marian, I say! a stoop of wine!

Enter Clown.
Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.

Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we threc? i

if one

Sir To. Welcome, ass: Now let's have a catch.

Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gra. cious fooling last night, when thoil spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Quenbus; 'twas very gooi, i'faith. I sent ihee six-perce for thy leman; Hadst it?

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is 110 whipsiock: My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no botile-ale honşes.

Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when, all is done. Now, a song. Sir To. Come on;

there is six-pence for you: let's have a song.

Sir And. There's a testril of me too: knight gave a

Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life?

Sir To. A love song, a love-song.
Sir And. Ay, Ay; I care not for good life.

SONG.
Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming ?
0, stay and hear; your true love's

coming,
That can sing boih high and low :
Trip no further, pretty siveeting;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,

Every wise man's son doth know.
Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith!
Sir To. Good, good.
Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;

Present mirth hath present laughter;,

What's to come, is still unsure :

In delay there lies no plenty;
Theil .core kiss me, sweet and twenty,

Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Sir. And. A mellifluous voice, as I am truc knight.
Sir-To. A contagious breath.
Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, ifaith.

Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance, indeed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a cateh, that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? shall we do that?

Sir And. And you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch,

Clo. By'r lady, Sir, and some dogs will catch well.

Sir Ard. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou knave.

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, Knight? I shall be constrain’d in't to call thee knave, Knight.

Sir And 'Tis not the first time I have constraind one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace.

Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.
Sir And. Good, i'faith! Come, begin.

[They sing a Catch.

Enter MARIA. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not callid up her steward, Valvolio, and bid him turn you out of door's, never trust me.

Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men

Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her blood? Tilly-valley lady! There dwelt a man 'in Babylon, lady, lady!

[Singing. Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

be ive.

you?

Sir And.' Ay,' he does well enough, if he be dispos'd, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. Sir To. 0, the lwelfth Day of December,

[Singing. Mar. For the love o'God, peace.

Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. My masters, are you mad ?

or what are Have you do wit,' manuers, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there 110 res. pect of place, persons, nor time, in you?

Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our catches. Sneck up !

Mal. Sir Toby; I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she har. bours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the horze se; if not, an it, would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewel.

Sir To. Farewel, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.

Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby.
Clo. His eyes do shew 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.
Sir To. Shall I bid him go? (Singing.
Clo. What an if you do?
Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

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