Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life. Sir T. A love-song, a love-song. Sir A. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. SONG. Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming? Every wise man's son doth know. Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Sir A. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. Sir A. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. Sir T. 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 catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? Shall we do that? Sir A. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a eatch. Cle. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. 5. A. Most certain: let our eatch be, Thou knave. Cis. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall be constrain❜d in't to call thee knave, knight. Sir A. "Tis not the first time I have constrain❜d one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, hold thy peace. Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. Sir A. Good, i'faith! come, begin. [They sing a catch. Enter Maria. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Sir T. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we. 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. Sir A Ay, he does well enough, if he be disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. Sir T. O, the twelfth day of December,- [Singing. Mar. For the love o' God, peace. Enter Malvolio. Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, 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 no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? Sir T. 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 harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to hid you farewell. Sir T. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost done. Mal. Is't even so? Sir T. But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. Clo. What an if you do? Sir T. Shall I bid him go, and spare not? Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. [Singing. Sir T. Out o' time? sir, ye lie. Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtu ous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too. Sir T. Thou'rt i' the right.-Go, sir, rub your chain with crums :-a stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know of it, by this hand. [Exit. Mar. Go, shake your ears. Sir A. "Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Sir T. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know, I can do it. Sir T. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir A. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir T. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight? Sir A. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time pleaser; an affectioned ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. Sir T. What wilt thou do? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated: I can write very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. Sir T. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir T. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir A. And your horse now would make him an ass. Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Sir A. O, 'twill be admirable. Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my phy sie will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter; observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. Sir T. Good night, Penthesilea. Sir A. Before me, she's a good wench. [Exit. Sir T. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me; What o'that? Sir A. I was adored once too. Sir T. Let's to bed, knight.-Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir A. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. Sir T. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i' the end, call me Cut. "Sir A. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir T. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: Come, knight; come knight. [Exeunt. SCENE IV-A-Room in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. Duke. Give me some music :-Now, Good-morrow, friends : Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night; Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Exit Curio.-Music. -Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, 0, where Sad true lover ne'er find my grave, 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. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal!-I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent every where; for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. [Exit Clown. Duke. Let all the rest give place. -Once more, Cesario, [Exe. Curio and Attendants. Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty: The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Vio. 'Sooth, but you must/ Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart Can 'bide the beating of so strong a passion Via. 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. 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? SCENE V-Olivia's Garden. Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian. Sir T. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Feb. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir T. 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. Sir T. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue:-Shall we not, sir Andrew? Sir. A. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. Sir T. 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. [Exit Maria. Enter Malvolio. Mal. "Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria 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 T. Here's an over-weening rogue! Sir A. Fie on him, Jezebel ! Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look, how imagination blows him. Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,—— Sir T. O, 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 T. Fire and brimstone ! Fab. O, peace, peace! Mal. And then to have the humour of state and after a demure travel of regard,-telling them, I know my place, as I would they should do theirs,―to ask for my kinsman Toby: Sir T. Bolts and shackles! Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me: Sir T. Shall this fellow live? Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control: Sir T. 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 T. What, what? Mal. You must amend your drunkenness. Sir T. 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 A. That's me, I warrant you. Mal. One Sir Andrew: Sir A. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me fool. Mal. What employment have we here? [Taking up the letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir T. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him! Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. Sir A. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: Why that? Mal. [Reads.] To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes: her very phrases!-By your leave, wax-Soft!--and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To whom should this be? Fab. This wins him, liver and all. Lips do not move, No man must know. No man must know.-What follows? the numbers al. cock of him; how he jets under his advanced plumes!tered!-No man must know :-If this should be thee, Sir A. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue: Sir T. Peace, I say. Mal. To be count Malvolio;- Sir T. Ah, rogue! Sir A. Pistol him, pistol him. Sir T. Peace, peace! Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the straeby married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Malvolio? Sir T. Marry, hang thee, brock! But silence, like a Lucrece knife, With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore ; M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. Fab. A fustian riddle! Sir T. Excellent wench, say I. Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults. 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. Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. Sir T. I could marry this wench for this device: Sir T. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest. Enter Maria. Sir A. Nor I neither. Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. Sir T. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy bond-slave? Sir A. I'faith, or I either? Sir T. 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? 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 be will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her Sir T. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O. disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, Mal. And then I comes behind. Fab. Ay, and you had any 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 born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, The fortunate-unhappy. She Day-light and champian discovers not more: this is that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me. Sir T. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit! Sir A. I'll make one too. m ACT III. [Exeunt. SCENE I.-Olivia's Garden. Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabor. Viola. SAVE thee, friend, and thy music: Dost thou live by thy tabor? Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. 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 sen. tence 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? Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton: But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them. Vio. Thy reason, man? Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them. Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing. 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 the 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. Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee. || Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment: Oli. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you; Cla. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send I had rather hear you to solicit that, Vie. 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? Cle. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? Via. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. Cio. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging 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. [Exit. Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. Sir T. Save you, gentleman. Vis. And you, sir. Sir A. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Fio. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. Sir A. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. Sir T. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Vio. Dear lady,- A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse Have you not set mine honour at the stake, Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom, Oli. That's a degree to love. Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again: There lies your way, due west. Vio. Then westward-hoe: Grace and good disposition 'tend your ladyship! Vie. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. Sir T. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. Vis. I will answer you with gait and entrance: But we are prevented. Enter Olivia and Maria. Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are, I wish it might; for now I am your fool. In the contempt and anger of his lip! -Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain Than love that would seem hid; love's night is noon. odours on you! Sir A. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours! well. Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. Sir A. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed :-I'll get || 'em all three ready. Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to may bearing. [Exe. Sir Toby, Sir And. and Maria.] -Give me your hand, sir. Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Fio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, |