state; Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.. Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. Page Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy! What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd. Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas'd. Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding. Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further:- Heaven give you many, many merry days!- Ford. Let it be so:-Sir John, To master Brook you yet shall hold your word; For he, to-night, shall lie with mistress Ford. [Exeunt, TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. no more; Duke. If musick be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.That strain again;-it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour.-Enough; 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou! That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soever, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, That it alone is high-fantastical. Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? Duke. Cur. What, Curio? Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me.-How now? what news from her? Enter VALENTINE. Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do return this answer: And lasting, in her sad remembrance. To Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame, pay this debt of love but to a brother, The hart. How will she love, when the rich golden shaft, Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may he be. Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with Assure yourself, after our ship did split, sea; To a strong mast, that lived upon the Vio. Not three hours travel from this very place. A uoble duke, in nature, As in his name. Vio. What is his name? Cap. Orsino. And sight of men. O, that I served that lady: Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; I will believe, thou hast a mind, that suits Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see! Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and MARIA. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's an enemy to life. Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in earlier o'nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confe yourself within the modest limits of order. Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; an they he not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.. Mur. That quaffing and drinking will undo Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and him: of a foolish knight, that you brought in one Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural: for, besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave. Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a coward, and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes Sir Andrew Aguc-face. Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Sir To. Past question; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir distaff; and I hope to see a housewise take thee Toby Belch? Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Mur. And you too, sir. Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. Sir And. What's that? Sir To. My nicce's chamber-maid. between her legs, and spin it off. Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, wooes her. Sir To. She'll none o'the count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire bet- nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would thou might'st never draw sword again. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your metaphor? Mar. It's dry, sir. Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mar. A dry jest, sir. Sir And. Arc you full of them? Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit Maria. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see thee so, put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down: Methinks, some life in't, man. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight? Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man. Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper. Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't. Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? 1 did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indif ferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? Sir And. Taurus? that sides and heart. Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!-excellent! [Exeunt. Vio. Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me. Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return. Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; What then? Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: It shall become thee well to act my woes; She will attend it better in thy youth, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. Vio. I think not so, my lord. Duke. bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hanged in this world, needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good. Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? Mur. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent: or, to be turned away; is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. Mar. You are resolute then? Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points. Mur. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall. Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit. Enter OLIVIA, and MALVOLIO. Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: For what Dear lad, believe it; says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.- -God bless thee, lady! For they shall yet belic thy happy years, Vio. SCENE V. A room in Olivia's house. Enter MARIA, and Clown. [Exeunt. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips, so wide as a Oli. Take the fool away. Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: Any thing, that's mended, is but patched: virtue, that transgresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue: If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, What remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower:the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision in the highest degree!Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. |