Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

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.
Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
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 Count his gallies,
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.
Scb,

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?

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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Olivia's Garden.

Enter OLIVIA and MARIA. Oli. I have sent after him : He says, he'll come 16; How shall I feast him ? what bestow on him' For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or bor

row'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 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 please 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 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 : -'Twas well writ.
Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio?
Mal, Some are born great, -
Oli. Ha ?
Mal. Some atchieve greatness,-
Oli. What say'st thou ?
Mal. And some have greatness thrust ироп

them. Oli. Heaven restore thee !

Mal. Remember, who commended thy yellow stockings;

Oli. Thy yellow stockings?
Mal. And wish'd to see thee cross-garler'd.
Oli. Cross-garter'd ?

Mal. Go to: thou art made, if thou desirest to be SO;

Oli. Am I made ? . Mal. If not, let me see thee a servant still. Pli. Why, this is very midsummer madness 47.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the count Orsino's is return'd; I could hardly entreat him back: he attends your ladyship's pleasure.

Oli. I'll come to him. [Erit Servant.] Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd to. Where's my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry. [Ereunt Olivia and Maria,

Mal. Oh, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than sir Toby to look to me? This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him ; for she incites me to that in the letter. Cast thy humble slough, says she; - be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants,-let thy tongue tang with arguments of state,-put thyself into the trick of singularity; and, consequently, sets down the manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! And, when she went away now, Let this fellow be look'd to: Fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing adheres together; that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance,- What can be said? Nothing, that can be, can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

« AnteriorContinuar »