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. 8 Sir To. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight? Sir And. 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 affection'd 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 To. 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. 7 9 a nayword,] a byeword. Possess us,] That is, inform us, tell us. an affection'd ass,] Affection'd means affected. great swarths:] A swarth is as much grass or corn as a mower cuts down at one stroke of his scythe. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir To. 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 And. And your horse now would make him Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable. Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know, my physick 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 To. Good night, Penthesilea.2 Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. [Exit. Sir To. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores me; What o'that? Sir And. I was adored once too. Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.-Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i'the end, call me Cut.' Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir To. 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 musick: Now, good morrow, friends: Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, 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.Musick Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it, remember me : For, such as I am, all true lovers are ; Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save, in the constant image of the creature That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? Fio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where Love is thron'd. Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye recollected] Studied, or perhaps oft repeated. 5 -favour] i. e. countenance. Vio. A little, by your favour. Duke. What kind of woman is't? Of your complexion. Vio. Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. Vio. I think it well, my lord. Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as roses; whose fair flower, Re-enter CURIO, and Clown. Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night : Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth," And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.9 6 7 Clo. Are you ready, sir? Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing. -free-] Is, perhaps, artless, free from art. $ And dallies with the] Plays or trifles. 9 [Musick. the old age.] The ages past, times of simplicity. SONG. CLO. Come away, come away, death, My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, My part of death no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, 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. [Exeunt CURIO and Attendants. A precious stone of almost all co |