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Once more, Cesario,
Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir?
Sooth, but you must.
Duke. There is no woman's sides,
Ay, but I know,-
owe: In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter lov'd a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. · Duke.
And what's her history?
? That nature pranks her in,] i. e. adorns.
Vio. 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? . Duke.
Ay, that's the theme. To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay:3
Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK,
Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.
Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
Sir To. 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 To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again ;
and we will fool him black and blue :~Shall we not, sir Andrew? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.
Enter Maria. Sir To. Here comes the little villain :- How now, my nettle of India ?4
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 ideot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throues down a letter.] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. Erit 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 To. Here's an over-weening rogue !
Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advanced plumes !
Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue:-
4- nettle of India?] The nettle of India is the plant that produces what is called cow-itch, a substance only used for the purpose of tormenting, by its itching quality. s h ow he jets — ] To jet is to strut.
• Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.
Sir To. Peace, peace!
Mal. There is example for’t; the lady of the strachyo married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
Sir And. 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 To. Ö, 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 daybed, where I left Olivia sleeping.
Sir To. 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 To. Bolts and shackles !
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 To. 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
6-- the lady of the strachy -] No probable meaning has been discovered for this word by the commentators.
1- my state, –] A state, in ancient language, signifies a chair with a canopy over it. 8 come from a day-bed, ) i. e. a couch. . .
- Though our silence be drawn from us with cars,] i.e. though it is the greatest pain to us to keep silence.
my familiar smile with an austere regard of con. trol:
Sir To. 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 To. What, what?
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 And. That's me, I warrant you, :
Sir And. 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 To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours in: timate 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 And. 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,