« AnteriorContinuar »
SCENE I.- An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Cur.
The hart. Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians attending. .0! when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have. Duke. If music be the food of love, play on: Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence: Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
That instant was I turn'd into a hart, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, That strain again ;—it had a dying fall :
E'er since pursue me.--How now! what news from 0! it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,
her? That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour.—Enough! no more :
Enter VALENTINE. 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.
Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, O, spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, But from her handmaid do return this answer : That, notwithstanding thy capacity
The elenient itself, till seven years' heat, Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Shall not behold her face at ample view; Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, But falls into abatement and low price,
And water once a day her chamber round Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, With eye-offending brine : all this, to season That it alone is high-fantastical.
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting in her sad remembrance.
What, Curio? Duke. Ö! she that bath a heart of that fine frame, To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
SCENE II.-The Sea-coast.
Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors.
This is Illyria, lady. (Her sweet perfections,) with one self king.
Vio. And what should I do in Illyria ? Away, before me to sweet beds of flowers ;
My brother he is in Elysium. Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers. Perchance, he is not drown'd:—what think you,
Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd. Cap. And so is now, or was so very late;
And then 'twas fresh in murmur, (as, you know, Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with What great ones do the less will prattle of,) chance,
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
Vio. What's she? When you, and those poor number saved with you, Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her Most provident in peril, bind himself
In the protection of his son, her brother, (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea;
They say, she hath abjur'd the company, Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
And sight of men. I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
Vio. 0! that I serv'd that lady, So long as I could see.
And might not be delivered to the world, Vio.
For saying so there's gold. Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
What my estate is. Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
That were hard to compass, The like of him. Know'st thou this country ? Because she will admit no kind of suit,
Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born, No, not the duke's. Not three hours' travel from this very place.
Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain, Vio. Who governs here?
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For such disguise as haply shall become
I heard my lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke: knight, that you brought in one night here to be her Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him. It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing,
Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? And speak to him in many sorts of music,
Mar. Ay, he. That will allow me very worth his service.
Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. What else may hap to time I will commit;
Mar. What's that to the purpose ? Only, shape thou thy silence to my wit.
Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: || year. When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these Vio. I thank thee. Lead me on. [Exeunt. ducats: he's a very fool, and a prodigal.
Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the SCENE III.-A Room in Olivia's House. viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages
word for word without book, and hath all the good Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Maria.
gifts of nature. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take Mar. He hath, indeed, -almost natural; for, the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, enemy to life.
but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the earlier o' nights : your cousin, my lady, takes great prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave. exceptions to your ill hours.
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. substractors that say so of him. Who are they?
Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within Mar. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly the modest limits of order.
in your company. Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece. I'll than I am. These clothes are good enough to drink drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my in, and so be these boots too : an they be not, let throat, and drink in Illyria. He's a coward and a them hang themselves in their own straps.
, that will not drink to my niece, till his Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What,
Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.
Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance.
Mar. My name is Mary, sir.'
Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost is front her, board her, woo her, assail her.
Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.
Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, would Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring thou might'st never draw sword again!
your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you metaphor ? think you have fools in hand ?
Mar. It's dry, sir. Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand.
Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such an ass, Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest ?
Mar. A dry jest, sir.
Sir And. Are you full of them?
Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear knight? Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends : Sir And. What is pourquoi ? do or not do? 1 marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that
[Erit MARIA. I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O, Sir To. O knight! thou lack'st a cup of canary. had I but followed the arts ! When did I see thee so put down?
Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head Sir And. Never in your life, I think ; unless you of hair. see canary put me down. Methinks, sometimes I Sir And. Why, would that have mended my have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary hair? man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and, I Sir To. Past question; for, thou seest, it will believe, that does harm to my wit.
not curl by nature. Sir To. No question.
Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll not? ride home to-morrow, sir Toby.
Sir To. Excellent: it hangs like flax on a distaff,