CLO. What is love? 't is not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter ;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty :"
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

SIR AND. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

SIR TO. A contagious breath.

SIR AND. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. SIR TO. 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 AND. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch.

CLO. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch

well.

SIR AND. Most certain. Let our catch be, Thou knave.(3)

CLO. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

SIR AND. 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace.

CLO. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. SIR AND. Good, i'faith! Come, begin. [They sing a catch.

a Sweet-and-twenty :] A proverbial endearment; thus in "The Merry Devil of Edmonton," "his little wanton wagtailes, his sweet and twenties, his pretty pinckineyd pigsnies," &c.

Coziers' catches- A cozier meant a botcher of clothes or shoes.

Sneck-up.] A contemptuous exclamation, equivalent to " hang: "

"And now, helter-skelter, to th' rest of the house:
The most are good fellows, and love to carouse;
Who's not may go sneck-up; he's not worth a louse
That stops a health i' th' round."

go

Song by Patrick Carey, "Come, faith, since I'm parting." (See CHAPPELL'S Popular Music of the Olden Time, Vol. I. p. 289.)

disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. SIR TO. 0, the twelfth day of December,

MAR. For the love o' God, peace!

Enter MALVOLIO.

[Singing.

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 TO. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck-up.

you.

My MAL. Sir Toby, I must be round with 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, farewell. she is very willing to bid you SIR TO. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.(7) [Singing.

MAL. Nay, good sir Toby.

CLO. His eyes do show his days are almost

done.

[Singing.

SIR TO. Out o'tune, sir? ye lie.-Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

CLO. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i'the mouth too.

SIR TO. Thou'rt i'the right.-Go sir, rub your chain with crumbs.f A stoop of wine, Maria!

d Farewell, dear heart, &c.] This and the subsequent lines sung by sir Toby and the Clown are modified snatches of an ancient ballad, which will be found in the Illustrative Comments on this comedy.

e Out o' tune, sir?] Very needlessly changed to "Out of time!" in most editions. Sir Toby desires an excuse for insulting the Steward, and finds it in pretending he had decried their singing.

Rub your chain with crumbs.] The steward's badge of office formerly was a gold chain, and the usual mode of cleaning plate was by rubbing it with crumbs. See Webster's play of "The Duchess of Malfy:"-" Yea, and the chippings of the butlery fly after him, to scouer his gold chain."

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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 AND. "Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him.

SIR TO. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a chal

recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it.

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, I have reason good enough.

but

MAR. The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly, but a time-pleaser ; an affectioneda 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.

SIR TO. Excellent! I smell a device.
SIR AND. I have't in my nose too.

SIR TO. He shall think by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him?

MAR. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.

SIR AND. And your horse now would make him

an ass.

MAR. ASS, I doubt not.

SIR AND. O, 'twill be admirable.

MAR. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic 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 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 ; [Exeunt. come, knight.

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;
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs, and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :—
Come, but one verse.

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, 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? Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where Love is thron'd.

d

DUKE. Thou dost speak masterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath staid upon some favour that it loves;— Hath it not, boy? VIO. A little, by your favour. DUKE. What kind of woman is't?

[Exit.

VIO.

SIR TO. Good night, Penthesilea.
SIR AND. Before me, she's a good wench.
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.

Of your complexion. DUKE. She is not worth thee, then.

years, i'faith?

Vro. About your years, my lord.

What

DUKE. Too old, by heaven: let still the woman

take

An elder than herself; so wears she to him,

DUKE. Give me now leave to leave thee. CLO. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal !"—I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere; 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. Once more, Cesario,

Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune;
But 'tis that miracle and queen
of gems,
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul.
VIo. But if she cannot love you, sir?
DUKE. I cannot be so answer'd.
VIO.

Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her;
You tell her so: must she not, then, be answer'd?
DUKE. There is no woman's sides,

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,-
No motion of the liver, but the palate,-
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.
VIO.

Ay, but I know,—-
DUKE. What dost thou know?

VIO. Too well what love women to men may

SIR TO. Wouldst 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 o' favour with my lady, about a bearbaiting 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.
SIR TO. Here comes the little villain.

Enter MARIA.

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

quendam excitat, unde nomen Urticæ est sortita."-FRANZIT, Hist. Animal. 1665, p. 620. This plant is likewise mentioned in Greene's Card of Fancie," 1608:- The flower of India, pleasant to be seen, but whoso smelleth to it feeleth present smart."

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