water but in a sink-a-pace'. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent 5 well in a flame-colour'd stock'. Shall we set| about some revels?

Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?

Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart'. Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!—excellent!

SCENE IV.
The Palace.

[Excunt.

10

[15]

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanc'd; 20 he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger.

Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli gence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?' Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
Vio. Ithank you. Here comes the count.
Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here.
Duke. Stand you a-while aloof.-Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul:
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
'Till thou have audience.

Vio. Sure, my noble lord,

If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.

[then

251

30

35|

Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord: What
Duke. O, then, unfold the passion of my love, 45
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect.
Vio. I think not so, my lord.
Duke. Dear lad, believe it;

For they shall yet belye thy happy years,
That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip

Is not more smooth, and rubious; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part.
I know, thy constellation is right apt

For this affair:-Some four, or five, attend him;
All, if you will: for I myself am best,
When least in company :-Prosper well in this,

And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord

To call his fortunes thine.
Vio. I'll do my best,

[strife:
To woo your lady: [Exit Duke.] yet,a "barrful
Who-e'er I woo, myself would be his wite. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.

Olivia's House.

Enter Maria and Clown.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, for I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may jenter in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.

Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hang'd m this world, needs fear no colours. Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear.

Mar. A good Lenten' answer; I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary?

Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery.

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hang'd, for being so long absent, or be turn'd away; Is not that as good as a hanging to you?

Clo. Marry, a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out.

Mar. You are resolute then?

Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolv'd on two points.

Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall.

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more of that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit.

Enter Olivia and Malcolio. Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: For what says 50 Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit. -God bless thee, lady!

551

Oli. Take the fool away.

Clo. Do you not hear, fellow? take away the liady.

Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest.

Clo. Two faults, Madonna', that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man 60mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dis

That is, a cinque-pace; the name of a dance, the measures whereof are regulated by the number five. Stockings were in Shakspeare's time called stocks. 3 This alludes to the medical astrology, which refers the affections of particular parts of the body, to the predominance of particular constellations. *ive. a contest full of impediments. Meaning, a short and spare one; alluding to the

5

commons in Lent. The cant word for mistress, dame.

honest;

11

honest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him :) Any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: virtue, that transgresses, is but patch'd with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patch'd with virtue: if that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, 5 What remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower: the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her

Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man,
and well attended.

Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay?
Mar. Sir Toby, Madam, your kinsman.

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you: he speaks no-
thing but madman; Fie on him! Go you, Mal-
volio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or
not at home; what you will to dismiss it. [Exit
Malcolio.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling
10grows old, and people dislike it.

15

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 20| bide your proof.

Clo. Good Madonna, why mourn'st thou ?
Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
Clo. I think his soul is in hell, Madonna.
Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.

Clo. The more fool you, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.-Take away the fool, gentlemen.

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes; and shall do, 'till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool.

25

30

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will 35 be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two-pence that you are no fool.

Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio?

Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal; I saw him put down the 40 other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone: Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagg'd. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, 45 no better than the fools' zanies.

Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distemper'd appetite: to be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets: There is no slander in an allow'd fool, though he do nothing butrail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing', for thou speak'st well of fools!

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you. Oli. From the count Orsino, is it?

That is, lying.

50

55

Clo. Thou hast spoken for us, Madonna, as if
thy eldest son should be a fool; whose scull Jove
cram with brains, for here comes one of thy kin has
a most weak pia mater!
Enter Sir Toby.

Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.-What is he
at the gate, cousin?

Sir To. A gentleman.

Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman?

Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here—A plague o'these pickle-herrings!-How now, sot?

Clo. Good Sir Toby,

Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy?

Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: There's on at the gate.

Oli. Ay, marry; what is he?

Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care
not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Exit.
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool?.
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, anda madman:
one draught above heat makes him a fool; the se-.
cond mads him; and a third drowns him.

Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him
sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink,
he's drown'd: go, look after him.

Clo. He is but mad yet, Madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown.

Re-enter Malvolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he' takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial.

Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak vith me.

Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post2, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind of man is he?

Mal. Why, of man kind.

Oli. What manner of man?

Mal. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you, or no.

Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he?

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a 60peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple:

2 It was the custom of that officer to have large posts set up at his door, as an indication of his office; the original of which was that the king's proclamations, and other public acts, might be affixed thereon by of publication.

'tis

(

'tis with hime'en standing water, between boy and
man. He is very well-favour'd, and he speaks
very shrewishly; one would think, his mother's
milk were scarce out of him.

Oli. Let him approach: Call in my gentlewoman. 5
Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit.
Re-enter Maria.

Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. [face;
Enter Viola.

Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she?

Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her; Your will?

10

15

Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loth to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to 20 con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn ;| I am very compatible', even to the least sinister

usage.

Oli. Whence came you, sir?

Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, 25 and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. Oli. Are you a comedian ?

Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the 30 very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house?

Ol. If I do not usurp myself, I am.

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours 35 to reserve. But this is from my commission; I will on with my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of my message.

Oli. Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise.

Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical.

Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring ne overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace as matter.

Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you?

Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your ears, divinity; to any others, prophanation. Oli. Give us the place alone: [Exit Maria.] we will hear this divinity. Now, sir, what is your

text?

Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.

Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, and shew you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one I was this present': Is't not well done? [Unveiling.

Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.
Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and
weather.
[white
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out diverse schedules of my beauty: It shall be inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, 40 labell'd to my will; as, item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to 'praise' me?

Oli. It is the more like to be feign'd; I pray you, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your approach, rather to wonder 45 at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of the moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue.

Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your 50

way.

Vio. No, good swabber; I am to hull' here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant', sweet lady.

Oli. Tell me your mind.

Vio. I am a messenger.

Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office.

2 j. e.

That is, very submissive. upon the water, without sails or rudder. vent his delivering his message.

value me.

5

4

Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud;
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
My lord and master loves you: O, such love
Could be but recompens'd, though you were
The non-pareil of beauty!
[crown'd

Oli. How does he love me?
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot

love him:

Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
55 Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant;
And, in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.

wild, frolick, mad. To hull means to drive to and fro
Meaning, her waiting-maid, who was so eager to pre-
i. e. blended, mixed. i. e. to appraise or

• i. e. I am,

Vio.

Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame,
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense,
I would not understand it.

Oli. Why, what would you?

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantos of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Haloo your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me.

Lage?

Oli. You might do much: What is your parent-15|
Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :
I am a gentleman.

Oli. Get you to your lord;

I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.
Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse ;
My master, not myself, lacks recompence.
Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love;
And let your fervour, like my master's, be
Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit.

Re-enter Malvolio.

Mal. Here, madam, at your service.

Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's man; he left this ring behind him,
Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,

20 Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him :
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for't. Hye thee, Malvolio.
Mal. Madam, I will.
[Exit.

25

Oli. I do I know not what; and fear to find
Mine eyes too great a flatterer for my mind.
Fate, shew thy force: Ourselves we do not owe;
What is decreed, must be; and be this so! [Exit,

sea, was my sister drown'd.
Ant. Alas, the day!

Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much re-、 sembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful:

40 but, though I could not, with such estimable won

der2, over-far believe that, yet thus far I will bold

not but call fair: she is drown'd already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine dark-ly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could ly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: 45 It were a bad recompence for your love, to lay any of them on you.

Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.

Seb. No, in sooth, sir; my determinate voyage 50 is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself: you must know of me then, 55 Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo: my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleas'd, would we 60 had so ended! But you, sir, alter'd that; for, some hour before you took me from t! beach of the

That is, to reveal myself.

Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. If you will not murther me for my love, let me be your servant.

Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recover'd, desire it not. Fare you well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's court: farewel.

[Erit.

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with
I have many enemies in Orsino's court, [thee!
Else would I very shortly see thee there:
But come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger should seem sport, and I will go.

i. e. wonder and esteem.

[Exit.

SCENE

Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put 10 your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: And one thing more; that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. Vio. She took the ring of me, I'll none of it. Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so return'd: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it.

[Exit.

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an untill'd can: to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the four elements?

Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking.

6

Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.-Marian, I say!-a stoop of wine! Enter Clown.

Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith.

Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see 15the picture of we three?

Vio. I left no ring with her: What means this 20

lady?

Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed so much,
That, sure methought hereyes had lost her tongue',
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure: the cunning of her passion
Javites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
I am the man;-If it be so, (as 'tis)
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it, for the proper false 3

2

In women's waxen hearts to set their forms 4!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we;
For, such as we are made, if such we be.
How will this fadge?? My master loves her dearly
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me:
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love;
As I am woman, now alas the day!
What thriftless sighs, shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I:
It is too hard a knot for me to untye.

SCENE

Olivia's House.

[Exit.

III.

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew.

Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know'st,

25

Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast'. I had rather than forty shillings I had fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fooling last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good, 'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman; Had'st it?

Clo. I did impeticoat thy gratuity; for Malvolio's nose is no whip-stock: My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are nobottle-ale houses.

Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song.

30 Sir To. Come on; there is six-pence for you: let's have a song.

Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a----

Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of 35good life?

45

50

Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.

Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life.
Clown sings.

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true-love's coming,
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know."
Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith.
Sir To. Good, good.

Clo. What is love? 'tis 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 10,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

That is, her tongue was talking of the duke, while her eyes were gazing on his messenger. 2 Pregnant means dexterous or ready. Mr. Steevens thus happily explains this obscure passage: "Viola has been condemning those who disguise themselves, because Oliva had fallen in love with a specious appearance. How easy is it, she adds, for those who are at once proper (i. e. fair in their appearance) and false, (i. e. deceitful) to make an impression on the hearts of women!-The proper false is certainly a less elegant expression than the fair deceiver, but seems to mean the same thing: a proper man, was the ancient phrase for a handsome man.” To set their forms, means, to plant their images; i. e. to make an impression on their easy minds. Tofadge, is to suit, to fit. i. e. a cup. i. e. voice. i. e. thy mistress. Meaning probably a jolly or merry song, agreeably to the bon vivant of the French, from which the phrase seems to be adopted. 10 In some counties sweet and twenty is a phrase of endearment,

5

Sir